The Lamp of Darkness - - (best finance books of all time TXT) 📗

came against the gate, four hard raps followed by one soft one. I recognized the signal, but nonetheless lifted the flap and peered through the peephole.

I unlatched the gate, and Ovadia stepped in, holding three vine cuttings. “Where did you get those?” I asked as I secured the gate behind him.

“From Shmuel the Carmeli, a local farmer who makes excellent wine. He was gracious enough to let me choose the vines myself.”

“What do you want them for?”

“For my orchard.”

“You’re planting an orchard during a drought?”

Ovadia’s eyes flashed a warning. I had spoken of the drought loud enough to be overheard. He opened the gate, glanced up and down the street, then shut it again with a sigh. When he replied, his voice was a whisper. “No, Lev. You’re going to plant an orchard during a drought.”

“Me?” Didn’t I have enough to do? “Isn’t that like pouring out water on bare rock? Nothing will grow.”

“Nothing need grow.” I felt the intensity of his eyes as he watched me.

“Why else plant an orchard?”

Impatience crawled up Ovadia’s brow. “Never forget how great a responsibility rests in your hands, Lev. You and I are like men on the edge of a cliff, one slip and all is lost. It is not enough to hope to evade discovery. You must anticipate discovery and prepare for it.”

Ovadia stared at me, waiting for me to understand. I put aside my annoyance long enough to think on his words. “The orchard is my excuse should anyone see me near the cave.”

“Exactly. Soldiers may question you, but as long as you have plausible answers, they will let you be.” Ovadia grabbed a shovel and a pick from the corner of the courtyard and strapped them onto the donkey. As he did this, he sniffed the saddlebags. “I don’t smell the bread. You waited until it cooled?”

“Yes.”

“Good. The smell could attract attention. If anyone examines your bags and sees the bread, what will you say?”

I shrugged. I hadn’t given it any thought.

“Never get caught without a story.” He rubbed his brow. “There’s a widow named Zilpah in Shomron who bakes and sells bread to support herself. Should anyone ask, say you live near Dotan, your mother is dead, and your father sends you once a week to Shomron to buy bread. That story should suffice.”

Ovadia led the donkey toward the gate. “You’ll need to reenter the city before the sun sets. Remember,” he caught my eye with a hard look, “entering and leaving this house is the most dangerous part of your journey. Your greatest value is that no one takes notice of you. Once it’s known you associate with me, you’ll draw attention, and we’ll be in danger of discovery.”

I nodded and led the donkey out into the deserted alleyway. Ovadia silently shut the gate behind me. I saw no one until I reached the main road, though even this was mostly empty on a non-market day.

Two guards stood in the open space of the triple city gate as travelers passed around them. One wore the royal ox of the House of Omri, the other was Tzidonian. My heart pounded as I eyed the cedar tree emblem embroidered on his tunic. His eyes were turned outwards, inspecting those entering the city. He had no attention to spare for the boy with the donkey taking his leave.

I hurried on the King’s Road, hoping to arrive at the cave quickly enough to snatch a brief visit with my master. Before long, I spied a mangled fig tree, with one of its lower branches broken off near the trunk. Beneath it passed the head of the trail which would take me to the Cave of Dotan. I followed it to the base of a hill I knew by sight and climbed the waist-high stone walls that formed terraces in the hillside, like the staircase of a giant.

The terraces bore no signs of being planted in recent memory. Whole sections had fallen away from the walls, and little soil remained on each shelf. Only once I reached halfway up, to an olive tree so gnarled that it may have been from the time of King David himself, was there any sign of planting. Here a few saplings stood in freshly turned soil, and before I left, I would need to add my vine cuttings beside them. But my first duty was to the prophets.

I unloaded the pick and shovel and propped them against the terrace wall where they could be seen from the path below. I tethered the donkey’s lead rope to the great olive tree and untied the saddlebags. A quick glance at the trail revealed that it was empty, so I slipped behind the tree into the hidden entrance to the cave.

I had not gone far when a cold blade rose to my chest. A voice demanded, “Who is there?”

“I am Lev,” I stammered, “a disciple of Master Uriel.”

The sword came down and the wielder sighed. “That’s a relief.”

“Afraid the Queen’s soldiers had discovered you already?” I asked.

My question was met with laughter. “No, I knew from your footsteps you were a boy, but I don’t know what I would have done if you were a stranger who stumbled upon us. Could I spill the blood of the innocent to preserve our secret?”

My eyes adjusted to the dim light of the passageway revealing two disciples before me, both a few years older than myself. The one who had been silent laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “He’s never held a sword before.”

“How did I do?” The sword bearer ran his fingers through his scraggly beard. “Did I sound frightening?”

“You scared me,” I said truthfully.

“Really?” His chest expanded. “You’re not just saying that?”

“Oh no, I was definitely scared.”

“Ha!” He raised the sword again toward the empty entranceway. “Let all who enter tremble before Peleh, guardian of the gate.” He lowered the blade. “I will guard this entranceway valiantly as long as no true enemies attempt to enter.” His shoulders drooped as he looked at his companion. “Not sure what I would do then.”

“If you’ve never held a sword,” I asked, “why are you the guardian of the gate?”

“It’s the only place where there’s enough light for Sadya and myself to learn the ancient scrolls. You’re the first person who’s entered today, so guarding has been light duty.”

I cringed at the mention of learning. Master Uriel had told me I could begin my studies in the cave and that as a Kohen it was not my place to serve others. Yet, here I was, baking and delivering bread to others so they could learn. “You’re lucky,” I muttered.

Sadya shot me a quizzical look. He was broader shouldered and darker skinned than Peleh and stood like one who knew how to hold either plow or sword. His strong hands held a scroll, browned at the edges from age. “You bring bread?” He pointed to the saddlebags. Without waiting for an answer, he rolled his scroll and grabbed the saddlebag with one hand, easily carrying it into the cave.

I stepped in after him. The prophets in the main room gathered around Sadya to receive their portions. Uriel stood to one side, his eyes on me. “Come with me, Lev.”

I followed my master away from the broad cavern into the dark passageways. He took a lit lamp from a niche in the wall and led me into the recesses of the cave. He ducked his head to enter his low quarters and sat on his sleeping mat. I lowered myself to the ground before him, and he held the lamp aloft between us.

“So,” he began, “you believe those of us hiding in the cave to be lucky?”

I dropped my eyes to the ground. “No, Master.”

“Do not hide from your feelings, Lev. Speak only the truth.”

“No, Master, I do not consider you lucky.”

“Why not?” he asked.

I lifted my eyes to meet his. “You are a prophet of Israel. You traveled the Kingdom, giving guidance to the people. Now you must live like an animal in a cage.”

“Ah, so for me you feel sympathy and even anger at those who’ve put me in such a place. But for Sadya and Peleh?”

I dropped my eyes again. “I only want to learn as well.”

His wrinkles were deep in the lamplight. “Then rejoice, for you are learning right now.”

“Rejoice?” I gave a dry laugh. “Rejoice in a few moments between baking and delivering the bread?”

“Of course. If learning is what you desire, rejoice when you have it, rather than lamenting that you don’t have more.”

His words stung, but I would not show it. “It is so little, Master. You told me when we arrived at the cave that you would begin my instruction.”

“I’m teaching you now, Lev. The question is—do you want to learn?” He held my eyes until I looked away. “You think I have much to tell. In truth, my most important teachings are few.”

“Then why must the disciples study for so many years? Why do so many fail?”

“Because it is not enough to learn the teachings, you must live them. Most lack the ratzon, the deep will.” His words echoed in my dream and held me fast. “Even those who find the will to learn may discover along the way that it is not their deepest desire. They will run out of years before they succeed in embodying the words of the prophets. I will give you what words I can when you come to me, but only you know whether you have the ratzon, the will, to live them.”

Uriel paused, and I felt an invitation in his silence. “Master, you told me Kohanim were not meant to serve.”

“I spoke the truth. The Kohen serves only the Holy One. Tell me, Lev, can you think of any greater service to the Holy One right now than keeping the prophets alive?”

My ears grew hot with shame. I could not hold back the words on my heart. “Ovadia tricked me.”

My master’s eyes grew wide. “Tricked you? How?”

“He told me I must persuade you to come to the cave, even against your will.”

“Which you did.”

“Yes, but he let me believe I’d be able to hide with you.”

“Did he ever say this to you?”

I paused. It had only been a week since Ovadia told me to bring Uriel to the cave, but it already felt like another lifetime. “No, but he never told me I would be his servant either.”

“Had he told you this, would you have brought me here?”

I frowned. “No, Master.”

“Then he was wise to remain silent. The fool sees only what is in front of him, the wise anticipate what will come to be.”

“So I am a fool?”

Uriel placed his hand on my knee. “You have not learned to see as far ahead as Ovadia. Indeed, for him to remain in the palace and keep all of us alive, he would soon perish were it not for his wisdom.”

“I still don’t like being tricked.”

“You are too quick to cast blame, Lev.” He tapped my knee so I would look up. “Was it a trick that he allowed you to hear what you wanted to? Ovadia does not need any more mouths to feed—he needs more hands to help.”

I balled my fists but kept my face calm. Ovadia had outsmarted me, and now I was his slave.

“You cannot change the past, Lev. All you can do is choose how to approach the future. I feel your anger toward Ovadia. You even directed it toward Peleh and Sadya, who have done nothing but help the prophets and learn our ways.”

“Didn’t you say I shouldn’t hide my feelings, Master?”

“You must not hide from your