Ben-Hur: The Hunting Accident

by coonskin

In the great 1959 movie Ben-Hur, Esther refers to the time years ago when Judah and Messala had been out hunting, and Judah was badly injured. This story creates that episode long ago when the two were just boys and were best friends.

A/N: I was rewatching the great 1959 version of Ben-Hur the other day (awesome movie!), and I was struck by Esther's comment to Judah early in the movie the evening they have their conversation on the roof after he has given her permission to marry. She remembers the day years ago that he and Messala had been out hunting, Judah was injured, he was carried home, and she was praying that he would not die. There aren't details given beyond that, but my muse decided to grab it and fill in the missing scene. It turned into more and longer than I had expected. Some background has been invented and expanded, of course, but I tried to stay true to what little info we have in the movie and to the characters in the book. It was interesting to write of Judah and Messala back when they were just boys and were best friends. Possibly nobody but me will enjoy this one, but I did have fun writing it.

(BH)

Esther always loved coming to Jerusalem. Her father had only brought her with him a few times, but the house fascinated her. The house in Antioch where she lived was considered large by the town residents, but the one in Jerusalem was on a different level. It was immense, with the great courtyard, connecting areas, and all sorts of nooks and crannies to explore. She loved to play around it.

There was also the Hur family. Tirzah, close to her own age, was usually willing to play, both here and when the family came to visit Antioch, which they did a few times a year. Judah was a few years older, but he was unfailingly kind to her and occasionally would join them in games. He had an intense gentleness to him that she was drawn to. As for Miriam, she always treated all children of the household, even the slaves, as her own people. Everyone loved her.

Then there was Ithamar. He had a quiet authority to him, not unbending with her as much as Tirzah and Judah would, but all of the servants respected him highly, and he was fair and gentle with them. Esther could tell just how much her father thought of his master. Once a year, when Simonides had to make accounting of all the investments he managed for the family in Antioch, he would spend the final few weeks ahead of their trip going over and over it, making sure every last detail was in place, and once they arrived in Jerusalem, he would present it like an offering to his master.

He had done so this day, and he and Ithamar were discussing a few points. Tirzah was out for the day with friends, Judah had gone off with his best friend that morning to practice hunting skills, and Esther was tagging along quietly with her father. She enjoyed watching him at his work and spending time with him. Ithamar had greeted her politely but was now in deep discussion with his steward.

A sudden disturbance near the main door drew their attention, and Ithamar and Simonides both broke off their discussion and looked that way. In the next second, a sharp wail of grief and denial echoed through the courtyard. It was Amrah, the devoted personal servant to Judah since his infancy.

Ithamar ran, and Esther followed her slower father. The gathering crowd of servants parted as they recognized their master, and Ithamar shoved his way through them to the center. "Judah!" His own cry was as loud as Amrah's.

Simonides managed to thrust on through the servants to reach his master's side, and Esther, sticking closely to him, gasped at the sight before them.

Judah was being carried by a strange man. Blood heavily stained his tunic about his chest and side; his eyes were closed, and he did not move. Amrah, weeping, was clutching the boy's feet. Next to them was Messala, his Roman friend. No blood marred his garments, but he was as pale as Judah.

Ithamar put a hand on Judah's chest, feeling him still breathing, and turned. "Joseph," he commanded one of the onlooking servants, "fetch a physician. Quickly!" Joseph nodded and left at a full run. Ithamar next pierced Messala with his gaze. "What happened?" he demanded.

Messala took a deep breath. "We were outside the city practicing tracking game," he began. "We were tracking prints, and we found a den with several young wild boars. Judah wanted to leave them alone, but I could see the quarry ahead undefended, so I advanced toward the den and raised my spear. Just then, Judah shouted a warning and tackled me. He knocked me out of the way, but he took the full assault of the sow as she attacked. She was enraged, and she kept going after him. I…I froze for a moment," he admitted. "I was afraid of my aim, but finally I did throw my spear. My aim was true." He looked at his friend. "But he was bleeding so badly. I ran for aid. This man helped me bring him back home." He shook his young head. "It should have been me."

Ithamar sighed. He knew Messala almost as well as his own son at this point, and Messala had always been the more impetuous one, the more hot-headed. Judah was the steadier, sensible one, though his son, too, had a temper when sufficiently provoked. Messala should have known better; he was still a boy but old enough to be practicing use of a spear and thus old enough to be learning how and when to hunt. To proceed straight on into a den of young wild animals, assuming the mother was nowhere around? Still, this was not the time for the lecture. Messala knew his error already; his voice held none of his usual self-confidence, and he still looked almost as pale as his friend. "You did save him in the end," Ithamar said. "I thank you for that."

He touched his son tenderly, lightly on the forehead, then stepped back. "Carry him to his chamber," he ordered. "Bring water and some cloths. Amrah, you must let him go for a few minutes." The devoted woman was still weeping and clutching the boy around the feet and legs, and Ithamar gently but firmly pulled her back, letting the man carry Judah as servants showed the way.

Simonides stood still as the crowd dispersed, staring after his master and his master's son. Esther tugged lightly on his hand, almost afraid to ask. "Father?"

Slowly, he turned to her. "Yes, Esther."

"Will Judah be all right?" He did not reply, and she persisted. "He will, won't he? Can't the physician make him well when he comes?"

"I don't know," he said gravely. "He seems badly injured. Come, I must see if I can help in any way."

"We can pray, can't we?" she asked.

He gave a sad smile. "Yes, Esther. We can pray."

(BH)

Upstairs, Judah was placed upon his bed, and Ithamar carefully moved the torn and bloody garments aside to reveal his torso. Amrah gasped. Judah had several gashes from tusks visible, some still bleeding slowly, and his chest was a mass of forming bruises. A servant approached with a basin of water and clean cloths, and Ithamar wet a cloth and started to wipe away some of the blood for a better look at the wounds. His pressure was light, but still, Judah reacted, moving for the first time and retreating from the touch as he moaned softly.

Miriam appeared at her husband's elbow, her face grave as she looked at her son. "Where is Tirzah?" Ithamar asked.

"Visiting friends." Miriam picked up another cloth herself, and her hands shook slightly as she wrung it out. "We had best summon her."

"Yes." Ithamar knew how close his son and daughter were. Tirzah should be home, whatever happened. He turned to a servant. "Take a message to Tirzah. Tell her to return home urgently." He turned back to his son and continued sponging the wounds.

Miriam used her wet cloth to wipe away the sweat and dirt from his face, and again, Judah reacted, pulling away. "No," he muttered.

"Rest easy, my son. Lie still." His mother's free hand stroked his hair.

"Watch out," he mumbled. The words were faint but distinguishable. "Messala!"

Messala moved up beside them, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I am here, Judah. I am safe."

"Messala! Watch out!" Ithamar caught his shoulders, trying to pick unbruised spots to grip but firmly holding his son still against the bed as he kept trying to move.

"Easy, Judah," his mother repeated. His eyes fluttered and opened. "You are home. You are safe."

"Messala?" he asked.

"I am here," Messala said, leaning over his best friend. "I am unharmed. I - I thank you for my life, Judah."

Judah relaxed seeing him and gave a weak smile. "Should have left - them - alone."

"We will discuss that point at an appropriate time," Ithamar promised. Messala flinched.

"How do you feel, my son?" Miriam asked.

Judah's eyelids fell again. "Hurts. Everything hurts." Amrah moaned in sympathy.

"A physician is coming," Ithamar promised. "You must stay strong and lie still." Judah nodded faintly.

Esther moved up between the others to stand next to his face. His beautiful eyes, which she had always admired, had looked nothing like themselves when they opened, weak and hazy instead of their steady compassion. She could sense the pain coming off of him in waves. She touched him lightly, afraid to hurt him more, and prayed, "God, do not let him die." Judah's eyes opened again at her words, and he looked at her. She tried to make herself smile at him, and he smiled back at her reassuringly. Miriam's hand rested briefly on Esther's head, and Judah lifted a hand himself to reach out to her, but he flinched and his breath caught as he moved. "Lie still," Ithamar repeated.

At that moment, the physician arrived. He pushed on into the room through the crowd and reached the bed, his eyes sweeping Judah's injuries. Then he turned to face the onlookers. "Out!" he commanded. "This is not a public marketplace. I must have space to work." There were at least 25 people by this point, all of them pressing as close up as they could, and even for a large bedroom, the chamber was getting crowded. Everyone loved Judah, and the watchers had kept growing as the news spread like wildfire through the house.

"Leave us," Ithamar reinforced.

"We will give news when we have it," Miriam promised. Slowly, reluctantly, the servants dispersed, leaving the physician alone with Judah, Ithamar, Miriam, and Amrah, who didn't budge and who probably would have had to be carried bodily from the room.

Once outside, Simonides gave a deep sigh. Esther, looking up at his solemn face, spoke softly. "God will answer our prayers, won't he?" There was as much fear as confidence in the question, though.

Her father put a hand on her shoulder. "I hope so."

(BH)

The hours plodded on through the afternoon toward evening for the anxious vigil out in the courtyard, the monotony of waiting broken up only twice. The first time, Tirzah arrived and swept up the stairs and on into the inner rooms with anxious speed. Everyone watching envied her the access. The second interruption was when someone knocked at the main door, and when the door was opened, it was a messenger from Messala's house.

"Your parents bid you return home," he stated. "It will be night soon."

Messala hesitated, torn between knowing he would be in trouble at home if he refused and wanting an update from upstairs. "Most likely they will give Master Judah something to make him sleep for tonight," Simonides suggested. "You could not talk to him even if you stayed. I will see that a message is sent on to your house as soon as possible with any word from the doctor."

Messala turned to the head steward and eyed him. Esther, staying close by her father's side all through this afternoon of worry, felt something catch inside her at the boy's expression. She had noted before that Messala did not look at her father or any of the slaves like the house of Hur did; she wasn't sure what the difference was, but it was definitely there in the background of his thoughts at all times. It was stronger now. Messala did not like taking a suggestion from her father, totally aside from the content of it.

"Your father is already annoyed that you are late," the messenger urged. "If something has happened to delay you, he would take that explanation better in person."

"I will see that you get any news," Simonides repeated. Messala studied him almost coldly, then abruptly turned away and headed for the door. He clearly didn't want to further annoy his father.

Annoying his father. Esther remembered the tightly controlled annoyance in Ithamar's posture when Messala had explained how Judah had been hurt. Really, that had been unwise; she, still a mere child, already knew to leave any wild animals alone that she ever found while playing, especially young ones in a den. Esther wouldn't like to be Messala when Ithamar got down to giving him the lecture he deserved.

Another long hour crept by. The stairs were vacant, silent. In spite of her worry, Esther was starting to get hungry. It was now past time when the evening meal would have been served, first to the family and then to the servants back in the kitchen. She shifted.

Simonides looked down at her. "What is it, Esther?"

"Nothing." She wanted to hear an update as soon as possible. She could wait a while longer. "Father, why does Messala not like you? It wasn't just worry this afternoon; he does not like you. He doesn't like any of us."

Her father sighed. "We are slaves, Esther. You know that."

"Yes." Of course, she knew that, and she knew that they belonged to the Hur family and had to respect them and listen to their directives. Her father had even shown her the scar on his earlobe, marking him forever as bound to this house. But life back in Antioch was pleasant for her, even so, her chores around the house there were as yet simple and not tiring, and visits to this house were a joy. "But Miriam and Tirzah and even Ithamar. And - and Judah. They don't look at us like that." Even in giving orders, she had never seen Ithamar look at her father as Messala had. And Miriam was kind, even maternal. Tirzah and Judah were friends.

"Some people treat slaves differently than other people do. Never forget, Esther, how fortunate we are to have a good master and house to serve. We are truly blessed. It is not always like that, I'm afraid; in fact, most slaves are not treated this well, and some are treated badly. There are some people who have harsh masters."

"Is Messala a harsh master?"

"Messala is still a boy, Esther. He isn't even master of himself yet. His father is the head of that household."

"Is his father a harsh master?"

"I've never met him, but judging from his son, I'd say he is much stricter than our master is, and his people do not feel as part of the family there. The son takes his attitude from the father most often."

"But why -"

Her father touched her lips softly. "Esther, you are young, and you still have much to learn of the world and its people. Believe me on this, but do not ask questions of any free person, please, and only talk to me privately. We are safe in this house, but in the world at large, you never know who is listening. Just give thanks every night, as I do, that the Lord has blessed us with such a good position."

At that moment, Ithamar and the doctor appeared at the top of the stairs. All conversation ceased, even Esther forgetting the current topic with her father. The two men descended the stairs side by side, and every servant listened unashamedly, trying to pick up their low conversation as they came into earshot.

"No way to see inside," the physician was saying in frustration. "I cannot look into what lies beneath the skin inside the body. It would make my work so much easier if I could. There is a large chance of infection here, but if we just can get him through that, the wounds I'm aware of should heal given time. He is young and strong of body and spirit. But if he has internal injuries that I am not aware of, if he is bleeding anywhere inside still or has some organ damaged, there is no way I can know. All we can do is wait and watch him." They had reached the bottom of the stairs by now and were heading toward the outer door. "I must go, but I will return tomorrow to check on him. He will sleep through the night, and you have my instructions for the moment."

"I thank you for everything," Ithamar replied. He took out several coins from his purse as they reached the door, and he gave them to the doctor. "I will see you tomorrow."

Once the other man had left, Ithamar turned back to face the crowded courtyard, and everyone pushed closer. Esther looked at his eyes, her master's eyes. They were tired right now, worried, and yes, somewhat annoyed, but even stressed, Ithamar looked at his people much differently than Messala did. "Judah is very badly injured, but if we can just avoid infection in the next few days and if there is no further damage invisible, he should be all right."

A collective sigh of relief filled the courtyard. One of the kitchen slaves abruptly realized the time herself. "Master, shall we prepare something to eat?"

Ithamar jumped and looked at the gathering dusk. He clearly hadn't even been aware of it. "Yes, for the women, too. We will eat up in Judah's room. Do not bother with anything for him; the physician gave him some medicine, and he sleeps for now. But starting tomorrow, we will need a rich broth for him."

"I promised a message to Messala," Simonides said, looking around for his tablet. Ithamar heard him.

"Messala left?"

"His father summoned him."

Ithamar nodded. "I will write it, Simonides. It would come better that way." Master and steward shared a look of perfect understanding.

Esther was still hungry, but she wanted something else even more. "Master, could I see Judah?"

Ithamar's eyes were kind. "He is asleep, Esther."

"I know, but he - I just want to see him looking better. Not like before."

He smiled at her. "You and your father may go up, just for a minute, while I write a note to Messala. But then, Esther, you must come back down, and you will eat. I'm sure you're hungry by now."

"Thank you," she said politely, but she was already pulling Simonides toward the stairs. They ascended as quickly as he could, tapped quietly at the door to Judah's bedroom, and then entered.

A heavy smell of both oil and herbs hung over the room. Miriam and Tirzah sat on either side of Judah's head, and the devoted Amrah was at his feet still. They looked up as the two entered. "The master said we could come up for a moment," Simonides explained. "Esther wanted to see the young master. She saw him earlier, you know."

"Of course." Miriam's voice was understanding through the worry. "Come on, Esther. It's all right; you aren't going to wake him up. The doctor gave him something."

Esther walked softly anyway. Getting up beside Judah's bed, she studied him. He was still pale, but he had on a clean robe now, not the blood-soaked tunic, and his chest and side were swathed in bandages. No blood and no wounds were visible, and his breathing was quiet and even as he slept. He looked much better than he had when carried home. She reached out and touched him lightly. "God has heard our prayers."

"I hope so," Tirzah said softly.

Simonides gently pulled his daughter back. "Come, Esther. You must eat."

(BH)

The house hardly seemed itself the next morning. Everything was hushed, even in areas far distant from the upper sleeping chambers of the family, and the servants went about their duties quietly. Normally, Simonides would have been starting to make plans to return to Antioch now that the annual accounting was presented, but this morning, he showed no signs of it. Esther finally asked him, "Are we returning to Antioch soon?"

He shook his head. "No. We will stay for the moment, unless the master tells me otherwise."

She smiled. "Good. I would not want to be wondering how Judah was." Messengers over long journeys took too much time.

Simonides gave her a pat on the head. "Nor would I, Esther. Business there will not suffer for my absence a few more days."

At that moment, Amrah slowly descended the stairs into the courtyard, and Esther ran over to her. "Amrah, how is Judah this morning?"

Amrah shook her head. "He is hurting, but he is being so brave. So brave."

Simonides, slower than his daughter though not much less eager, had joined them by now. "He proved that yesterday, knocking Messala out of the way. He is awake, then?"

"Yes, he is awake now. The mistress insisted that I have a break from sitting there with him." Amrah indeed looked like she had had not much rest in the last day. Simonides doubted that she had slept at all.

"He is strong, Amrah," he reassured her. "He will fight hard to heal."

She nodded. "Yes, he is strong. Surely God would not -" She broke off as Simonides tilted his head toward his daughter.

"He cannot die," Esther protested. "I have prayed for him, and my father has told me God always hears our prayers."

Simonides sighed. "Hears, yes, but sometimes the answer is not as we wish. We must not question the Lord's ways, Esther. But yes, let us keep praying."

A knock sounded on the outer door, and one of the servants opened it. Messala and a man obviously his father entered the courtyard; he was the image of a larger, older Messala. Esther studied him, remembering her father's comments yesterday. Messala seemed smaller than usual beside his father and much less confident, and the other man had a firm authoritarian manner. "We would speak to Ithamar and Judah," he stated.

Amrah's breath caught, and she surged across the entry way to stand in front of him. "Master Judah is not feeling like visitors."

"Is he not awake yet?" the man asked.

Amrah stood firm. "Yes, he is awake now, but he does not feel like visitors this morning."

Messala's father eyed her coldly. "If he does not, I will hear that from one of the family, not from a mere slave." Esther shivered. There it was, the same attitude she had seen a hint of in Messala yesterday, only far stronger. Amrah, as devoted an obstacle as she was, would not block this man from his purpose for long.

Simonides pushed her toward the stairs. "Esther, fetch Ithamar," he commanded softly. He then went forward to stand beside Amrah, shoulder to shoulder. "We will send for Ithamar, but Judah does not need to be disturbed this morning."

That was all Esther heard as she ran lightly up the stairs. Once back into the family area, she tapped on the door to Judah's chamber and then entered. "Messala's father is here and wishes to speak to my master and to Judah."

"No," Miriam insisted. "Not today."

Ithamar stood. "I will go down. Thank you, Esther." He gave her a pat on the shoulder as he went by.

Esther hesitated and didn't leave at once, instead looking around the room although staying in the background. Judah was indeed awake. He was sitting up, propped by pillows behind him, and his mother had a bowl and was feeding him broth. Sweat stood out on his forehead, and Esther could tell from that and his posture that yes, he was hurting quite a bit this morning.

"A little more," Miriam urged. "We will give you some more medicine then."

Judah took another spoonful. "What could Messala's father want?" His voice was clearer than last night, but he still sounded much weaker than his usual self.

"Whatever it is, it can wait a few days," his mother stated firmly.

Judah sank back into the pillows a little more. "I wouldn't mind just Messala, but his father can be -"

Tirzah nodded. "Yes. He can be very insistent when he wants something."

"No less than your father can," Miriam countered. "You do not need to deal with both of them today, and you will not." She offered him another spoonful of broth.

Judah took it, and then his eyes fell on Esther, hovering in the background. "I will be all right, Esther," he called to her.

Esther, watching how much just sitting up and eating was an obvious effort for him, suddenly wasn't sure, but she tried to sound confident. "I have prayed for you, Judah."

He smiled at her. "I heard last night, and you have my thanks."

Tirzah stood up and came over, squeezing Esther's arm. "Why don't we go listen to what Messala's father wants, Esther?"

"Yes," Miriam agreed. "You need a break as much as Amrah, Tirzah. It was a long night."

"As do you," her daughter countered.

Miriam looked back at her son. "In a little while, I will leave for a bit." She touched him lightly. "Just a little more, Judah," she said, raising the spoon again.

"Come," Tirzah repeated. She and Esther together slipped out of the room.

(BH)

The two girls descended the stairs, but there was no sign of Messala's father or of Ithamar now. Amrah was still standing in the courtyard, obviously forcing herself to take this interval away from upstairs instead of returning already, and they approached. "Amrah, where did my father go?" Tirzah asked.

Amrah pointed. "They went that way, but Messala's father didn't want to discuss anything in front of slaves."

Tirzah tossed her head with a flare of spirit. "I'm not a slave; I'm a member of the family." She grabbed Esther by the arm. "Come on," she urged softly. "Let's try to hear them without being noticed. I'm curious." Amrah shook her head but was smiling as she did it, and the two girls headed off as quietly as they could. They found the two men and Messala in one of the side chambers, far enough into the complex to be away from any routine traffic of servants and household duties through the courtyard. Tirzah opened the door just a few inches, enough to hear, and then crouched outside behind the door column, pulling Esther down with her. With a conspiratorial smile, the two girls eavesdropped unashamedly.

Messala's father was speaking. "I wished to get to the bottom of what happened yesterday, and it would be enlightening to question the two boys together, where we could watch their reactions to each other."

"Did your son not tell you what happened yesterday?" Ithamar asked.

Messala spoke up for the first time. "I did, but -"

His father cut him off. "He told me a story, yes. I just want to verify that it is the truth."

"You think your own son might be lying to you? He couldn't have made that up. I heard him tell it the first time, to me, and he was too shaken up to possibly be spinning tales."

"Oh, I don't question that he was shaken up. Judah's being hurt would be enough to explain that. However, I must admit, I have trouble believing that my son was that foolhardy to prompt the boar's attack. He knows better."

"You think my son does not?" Ithamar's voice had a tightly controlled edge of steel in it that Esther had never heard before.

Messala's father's tone was knowing. "Listen, Ithamar, we both know what boys can be like. I'm just saying that I think it's a possibility, one I'd like to investigate, that Messala made up his tale to cover up his friend's initial error, figuring that Judah had been punished enough already by being hurt. That would even be an honorable thing to do."

"But it wasn't -" Messala's protest cut off with a sharp catch in his voice, as if his father had seized him by the arm.

"Be quiet for now," his father commanded.

Ithamar spoke up, and that steel edge was sharper now. "Yes, we both know what boys can be like, and you surely know that your son has a headstrong and impetuous edge at times. It is precisely in character for Messala to advance on toward that den when he saw prey, as much as it is for Judah to try to dissuade him. Judah has always been the steadier of the two. No, it was not Judah who started this. I never thought it was, but just to offer proof that might satisfy you, Judah's story matches Messala's precisely, and Judah has never yet heard Messala tell his side. He was knocked unconscious in the attack and had not yet recovered when Messala was first reporting to me, and we were alone with the doctor when he gave a complete account later. There was no opportunity for Messala to let him know what he had said, to coordinate tales, and the versions are perfectly the same. However, you will have to take my word for that at the moment. Judah is in severe pain and still has a significant chance of complications from his injuries, and I am not going to take strength he should be using for healing to satisfy your suspicions. You may think that your son is lying to you, but I assure you, he is not, nor am I." His voice was angry but also absolutely sure of himself.

Silence reigned for a moment. "I - I accept your assurance," Messala's father said finally. "Thank you. But I had to know, understand."

"One other thing," Ithamar said. "Your son may have shown extremely poor judgment yesterday, but he also showed courage, first in attacking the sow himself with his spear, but also later in admitting his error, both to me and to you. I thank him for that. Mistakes were made, but I doubt he ever will make that one again, and he certainly has proven himself to be no coward."

"Thank you," Messala said softly, still sounding nothing like himself. This conversation and his father's presence had knocked all of his usual self-assurance out of him. "Is Judah truly doing better this morning?"

Ithamar's voice was back to his usual steady tones. "He is awake, and as of yet, there is no fever, but the physician said he won't consider him out of danger for several days. He really is not up to visitors yet."

"I understand," Messala's father said. "You may send me the bills for his treatment."

"The bills are not my concern, only my son," Ithamar replied. "You have a very fine boy and hopefully a wiser one than he was yesterday morning."

Their voices suddenly were approaching the door, and Tirzah rose, pulling Esther with her. The two girls scampered lightly away before they could be caught listening. Once they stopped, Tirzah looked at Esther, her eyes flaming. "I can't believe he wanted to blame Judah for this."

"I can't either. Ithamar is right, though. Messala at least had the courage to admit his error."

"Yes. He has his faults, but there is something about him." Tirzah smiled.

"But I do not like his father," Esther stated.

Tirzah nodded. "Neither do I, Esther."

(BH)

For three days, things seemed to be progressing with encouraging reports from the family to the household. Judah was still confined to bed, of course, and didn't feel like moving much anyway, but his wounds were healing. Esther was happily convinced that he must be on the road to recovery. Amrah worried that he wasn't eating enough, but overall, things were positive. Esther did notice that her father still seemed worried when he looked toward the stairs, and he did not make any attempts to start preparing for the return to Antioch. The physician still came twice a day.

The afternoon of the third day after the visit of Messala's father, Simonides, with Esther as his shadow, caught Amrah in the courtyard as she took an enforced break. "He is still hurting," she reported, "but the gashes are closing up well."

She seemed more tense today, Esther thought, and then wondered if she were imagining it. Even as she had the thought, Simonides spoke up. "Is something else wrong, Amrah?"

The devoted woman sighed. "I don't know," she said. "There is nothing I can point to, but this afternoon, he doesn't quite seem right."

"You said he's hurting," Esther pointed out.

"Oh, yes, he's being so brave about the pain, but you can tell how bad it is. He can barely move, even in bed. But I just have a feeling that there is something different this afternoon from the last few days, even since he was injured. I do not know what. Nothing seems to have changed. It is only a feeling."

Simonides frowned. "You have been with him for a long time, haven't you?"

Her face lit up in memory. "Oh, yes. He was just a baby when the master and mistress assigned me to help with him. Not that they needed much help then, but once he got a little older and started walking, he kept me busy, I tell you. Always watching everything, wanting to play with the horses even when he was too little to, wanting to know how everything worked. But he has always been such a good boy." She looked back up the stairs. "I am probably imagining things. He is only getting better. Now, I must go get a meal myself; the master made me promise to before I returned." She headed off toward the kitchen, and Simonides followed her with worried eyes.

It was in the middle of that night that Esther awoke, hearing voices outside the servants' complex. She started to get up, but her father pushed her back down on the small divan she was sleeping on. "Stay," he ordered. "I will see what is going on." He left, and it was a few minutes before he returned.

"What is it, father?" Esther asked.

He sighed. "Judah has started running a fever. They have sent for the doctor."

(BH)

Later on, looking back, Esther never wanted to remember those next several days. They all burned into each other in her memory. Even to a young girl, it was apparent that Judah was no longer improving. The doctor came more often, several times a day now, and finally, he simply no longer left. The whole house seemed to be holding its breath, waiting, but every time they got an update now, it was worse.

One morning - it was a few weeks now since Judah had been injured, but Esther could not have told exactly how long - she and her father saw Amrah slowly descend the stairs. The woman looked half ill with worry herself after days of this vigil. She came to a stop in the courtyard, looking at nothing, and Simonides approached. "How is Judah, Amrah?"

She turned to him with a sigh, too worn out to even consider Esther's listening ears now. "He is growing weaker. He has fought so hard trying to get better, but his body is getting tired now, and this fever is just burning him up. The doctor has tried everything: Herbs, willow bark tea, cold wet cloths. Nothing seems to help cool him off. The wounds are closed by now, but the physician says the fever isn't coming from there at this point; it's gone inside his body." She shook her head. "He will die if we cannot get the fever down."

Esther gasped. "But we prayed," she protested.

Simonides put a hand on her shoulder and opened his mouth, then cut himself off before he started to speak. He stared across the courtyard, absolutely fixated. Esther and Amrah both, puzzled, turned to follow his eyes.

The small pool was there, beautiful, decorative, a living symbol in this desert country of the wealth of this house, the wealth that Ithamar would have traded in a heartbeat for his son's recovery. Simonides studied it, then turned and ran for the stairs himself. Confused, Esther was right on his heels, and she heard Amrah coming, too, though more slowly.

Esther was surprised by her father's speed; she didn't think he could move that fast. Up the stairs, down the hall. He gave a perfunctory tap at the door to Judah's chamber and pushed on in without waiting for permission. "Master," he said urgently.

Ithamar was beside his son's bed. He barely looked up. "What is it?" His voice was flat; he sounded as tired as Amrah.

"Could we put Judah in the pool? It's not really meant for swimming, but it is large enough for a person to get completely in. It would be like a hundred cold compresses, all around, totally covering his body. Maybe being held down in the water could cool him."

The doctor, at the head of the bed, considered. "That is a good idea," he said. "It might help, and it could not hurt."

Ithamar launched into action without wasting time on a reply. Standing, he quickly picked up - Judah? Esther had been so focused on her father and Ithamar's exchange that she hadn't looked closely at Judah in the bed until now. He barely resembled himself, visibly thinner and sweating. He lay motionless, his eyes were closed, and his breathing was rapid and shallow with a fragile edge to it that she had never seen before in anyone. Looking at him now, Esther finally understood that he really was dying, even with their prayers.

Ithamar gathered the boy gently but quickly and left the room. Everyone trailed him, and Amrah, who had just arrived at the top of the stairs, turned and went back down after her master and his son. Ithamar reached the bottom and literally ran across the courtyard. Arriving at the pool, he stepped straight over the wall into it himself and then knelt down, getting Judah almost completely submerged, only his face out of the water.

Judah reacted, moving for the first time that Esther had seen today. He came to life abruptly, fighting weakly against the water, and his father held him firmly. "Hold still," Ithamar commanded. "You will not fall; I have you. Easy, Judah. The water should help you."

"It's cold," Judah complained faintly.

"That is good at the moment, Judah. We can use it. Be still." Judah complied.

Everyone had reached the pool by now, and the physician pushed to the forefront of the onlookers and felt the water with his hand. He nodded approvingly. "It's as cool as anything gets in this climate, far cooler than he is. This just might help. Hold him in there for a while."

They waited, all of them. Judah's eyes fell closed again. He started to shiver, but other than that, he did not fight his father further. Ithamar held him still, completely down in the water. Finally, after several minutes, the doctor nodded. "Remove him for now, and let us see if that did anything."

Ithamar stood up and stepped back out, dripping, his own garments as wet as his son's. Judah opened glazed eyes and looked at his father. "Why did you do that?" he asked, sounding totally confused.

"It could help the fever," the physician answered for him. He touched Judah on the forehead. "It does feel lower. Come, let's dry him off. We might have to repeat it, but perhaps this will make a difference. Now we'll see how long the effect will last. If he can just get some break from this fever for a while to let his body rest and regain some strength, it would help him keep fighting for us." With Ithamar still carrying his son, the family retreated up the staircase. Simonides stayed below in the courtyard and grabbed Esther's arm, holding her back.

"Leave them alone for the moment, Esther." He reached out and touched the water himself, cool, clear. "Let us keep praying."

The family appeared again in the courtyard twice through the day, but the interval between the latter two times was twice as long as the first one. Again, Judah was put in the pool for several minutes. Esther, watching closely, thought he was breathing a little easier, and his eyes looked more aware. He did not struggle anymore, though he clearly still didn't like it. An hour after they went back up the final time, Ithamar returned alone as the sun was starting to set. He looked around at the foot of the stairs for his steward, and Simonides caught his master's eye and started that way, Esther still his shadow.

"He is asleep," Ithamar said before Simonides could ask. "Resting easily, as he hasn't been for several days. He still has a fever, but it is definitely lower. The physician is hopeful now that this water treatment can help. Judah had not before this ever had the fever go down in over a week; it has only risen. So, there is a change." Ithamar reached out and seized both of Simonides' hands. "My dear friend, you have my thanks. If I could, I would give you your freedom, but you took that offer away from me."

Simonides touched his ear. "I do not want any other life apart from this family. Serving you is everything, and you have all been good to me."

"As have you to us. You have one of the finest heads for business I have ever encountered, and I have benefited from it. Putting you in charge of affairs at Antioch a few years ago was one of the wisest things I have ever done. But your idea this morning may have saved Judah's life." Ithamar squeezed his steward's hands tightly. "I am grateful."

"Master, if I might make a suggestion."

Ithamar smiled. "Of course. What is it?"

"While Judah is asleep, you might rest yourself. You and Miriam and Amrah all look exhausted, and Tirzah isn't far behind, even though you haven't let her stay with Judah constantly as you have. Tend to yourselves while he is asleep, and you will be better able to help him."

"Miriam is asleep with him right now. Amrah still keeps watch. But yes, I - I am tired. I have not slept at all for the past two days." He looked more weary than Esther had ever seen him, sagging suddenly as if it were an effort even to stand up.

"Get some sleep," Simonides urged again. "And perhaps a better meal, too, than you have been having."

Ithamar looked back at the staircase. "I will check on them again, and if everything is the same, perhaps I will rest in my chamber a few hours. You stay up there while I am absent, Simonides, and you must call me at once when Judah wakes or if I am needed before that." Simonides nodded. "And as for a meal, we will need something for Judah later, too. We must keep trying to feed him. He's barely had anything for days; the physician is worried about that, too."

Together, the two men climbed the staircase, Esther following, half afraid that they would tell her to turn back. They did not. Ithamar quietly opened the door to Judah's room, and the three of them stood in the doorway. Judah was asleep in bed, but he looked normally asleep, Esther thought, not breathing shallowly and rapidly as he had before. His mother was lying on the bed herself, sound asleep next to him, one arm thrown protectively over her son. Her face looked utterly weary. At his feet, Amrah still was stubbornly vigilant. The physician was sitting quietly in a corner, looking tired himself.

Ithamar watched his son and wife sleep for a moment, and then he squeezed Simonides' arm and withdrew. The steward moved forward silently and took a chair to one side of the room. Esther sat down on it next to him, studying Judah. God, do not let him die, she prayed again silently. He did look better, though. Still not well, and he was painfully thin, much thinner than the recent day that seemed ages ago now when he and Messala had gone out together to practice hunting skills, yet he looked a good bit better than he had when she had seen him this morning. Gradually, her own eyes fell shut, and she leaned against her father's side as she slept.

(BH)

Esther woke, sensing movement in the room. For a moment, she was disoriented, then pieced together her surroundings. She was now lying on one end of the couch against the wall of the room, though she had no memory of how she had gotten there. Her father's cloak was spread over her, and she moved it aside and sat up. Amrah was on the other end of the couch, deeply asleep. Looking around, Esther spotted her father rising somewhat stiffly from his chair, the chair she remembered falling asleep in. The physician also was on his feet and moving forward, and Miriam was sitting up on the bed next to her son. She reached out, resting her hand on his forehead.

Esther studied Judah. He was asleep but getting closer to the surface; he shifted under his mother's touch. He still didn't look well at all, but his breathing remained fairly even, not the desperate fast effort of yesterday. The doctor put his own hand on Judah's head and smiled. "He still has a fever, but this is much better than it was. Furthermore, he - "

At that moment, the door to the chamber opened, and Ithamar plunged inside. "Simonides," he said sharply, in a tone Esther had never heard him use toward her father, "I specifically told you to send for me, and instead, you let me sleep on. It is now morning."

Miriam looked over toward the window, shaded but with new light visible around the edges of the curtains. "He slept through the night," she stated in a tone of hopeful wonder. "That's the first time in days that he's really slept through the night and rested."

"Nothing happened, Master," Simonides assured Ithamar. "I watched all night, but there was no need." Ithamar went over to the side of the bed, studying his son.

Judah was quickly waking up now, stirring at the sound of the voices. His eyelids fluttered and then opened, and he looked at the circle of onlookers above. Miriam's voice caught low in her throat; his eyes looked much clearer, more like themselves while still not yet themselves, but Esther could see the marked difference from the glazed confusion of the day before. Miriam tried again, managing to speak this time. "How do you feel, my son?"

Amrah, awakened with the activity, joined them with a rush as Judah replied. His voice still sounded weak. "Tired, and my ribs still hurt," he said. "But I think I'm hungry. Could I have something to eat, Amrah?"

(BH)

The water treatment proved to be the turning point. That next morning, Judah first had something to eat. In fact, the physician had to stop Amrah from bringing the boy enough to feed a legion in her happy relief. After a short rest after Judah ate, Ithamar once again carried him downstairs to the pool. The fever was much lower now, but the doctor wanted to see if they could get it to totally break. After another period being all but submerged, he was removed from the water and taken back upstairs. Simonides then went to the slave quarters himself for a few hours of rest, having been sitting vigil alertly all night. Esther, left at loose ends, walked around the great complex, admiring the horses in the stable, helping with a few minor chores. She could feel the whole house starting to breathe again around her. Eventually, after noon, she spotted Tirzah and went to her quickly.

Tirzah greeted her friend with a happy hug of relief. "Oh, Esther, he is truly doing better. The fever finally broke. He's asleep again; the physician said he probably would sleep a lot at first while he regains strength. But this looks like sleep now. The last several days, he hasn't really been sleeping at all, just drifting in and out, but it never looked like rest. This is true sleep today. If we can only keep the fever down, then it's just a question of rest and eating."

Esther smiled. "I'm so glad. God did hear us, even if He took a while to answer. Is the doctor still here?"

"At the moment. He said if Judah stays stable, he will leave this evening. My father has paid him well for these days, but no doubt there are other people in need, too."

"What of Messala? I haven't seen him around the last few weeks."

The other girl shook her head. "We have had a message a few times asking about Judah, and we have sent updates regularly anyway, but my father thinks that his father is punishing him, keeping him home. His father was not at all happy with him when they left that day."

"No." Esther shuddered. "It really was foolhardy, what he did."

"Yes, it was, but he's only a boy. He will learn from this. I think it scared him quite a lot how badly Judah was injured."

"Besides the fever, Judah's injuries are healing, aren't they?"

"Yes. The gashes from the boar's tusks are totally closed over now. He did break many ribs in the attack, and those are going to take time to mend, but they are already better than that first day. This infection that set in was the worst thing, and hopefully he is beating it now." Tirzah gave another sigh of relief, letting the tension ebb away. "I think he will be all right. Yesterday morning, I was sure my brother was going to die, but today, I think he will be all right. How quickly things can change."

Esther remembered Judah, heading out whole and well and laughing that day a few weeks ago with his friend, then being carried home bleeding and unconscious a few hours later. But he would be all right now. God had heard their prayers after all. "Yes," she agreed. "How quickly things can change."

(BH)

Time was traveling as Esther thought it should again, forward, with progress and not with decline, not with worry. Judah slept most of the first several days after he turned the corner, but there was no doubt now that he was getting better. One day, Esther found her father and Ithamar discussing a potential new trade route, a routine business conversation of the type they hadn't had in weeks, and she knew then that she would return to Antioch soon. Sure enough, just the next day, Simonides announced that they would be leaving the following morning. He planned to spend most of that last day in final discussions with Ithamar and making preparations.

Esther spent most of that last day walking around the huge complex, wanting to remember this place, which was once again the happy, bustling house it always had seemed to her. She stopped by the pool and put her hand in the water. It felt cool. It felt alive.

Wandering on through the great house, she suddenly spotted Judah up ahead. He was sitting in a chair to one side of the courtyard, with a few extra cushions around him but sitting up and looking very much like himself, even if still thin. Messala sat next to him, apparently finally allowed to visit again. Esther approached tentatively, wanting to say goodbye to Judah and tell him how happy she was to see him up and about, yet hesitant to disturb the two in front of his friend.

Others were less hesitant, she noted. There was a steady stream of traffic rippling around the two boys, as if a current were carrying everyone who passed through the courtyard on business to that side of it. Most of the servants just walked nearby on their duties, taking the opportunity to smile at their master's son, which he returned. A few of them spoke to him as they passed. Then there was Amrah, who was kneeling nearby and who obviously had placed the tray next to him which had a whole assortment of fruits and pastries. It wasn't mealtime, but Judah had only to reach out his hand to get something to eat. Esther edged closer to the two boys, coming within earshot.

"This might as well be a marketplace," Messala complained. "And you, my friend, are the prime goods for sale. I know you aren't up to going outside yet, but could we not go somewhere else in the house more private?"

Judah laughed, then flinched and braced his side as his ribs protested. "If I moved from this spot, Messala, before we got any distance at all, every servant in the house would be trailing us, far closer than they are staying now, and my parents and Tirzah would appear quickly, too. I have no doubt that we are under very close supervision."

Messala shook his head. "But you are getting well now, Judah. I can understand your family still keeping a close eye on you, but the servants have no reason to fear any longer that their remarkably good treatment here might change if something happened to you that upset your father."

"They were worried about me, not about themselves," Judah countered. Messala dropped the subject, but Esther, hovering just within earshot, read his expression. He didn't believe the people had really been worried about Judah, she realized. Instead, Messala thought it was - what? Nothing would have changed in their treatment by the family if Judah had died. She didn't understand. Of course, everyone would have mourned for him, but why would Ithamar have then treated the slaves differently than before? That didn't even make sense, and she was confused.

"I wanted to tell you -" Messala broke off as another servant, one from the stables, passed by their chairs and reached out to touch Judah lightly on the shoulder and greet him. Judah asked a few questions about his favorite horses and finally, with his friend fidgeting next to him, told the man to go on.

"We aren't going to get much privacy today, I'm afraid," Judah apologized. "But there will be other days, Messala. Before long, we will even be practicing hunting outside the city again."

"Yes," Messala agreed. "And we will leave dens alone, but I do want to keep improving skills with the spear. That was a good blow to take down that sow, but I didn't feel as sure of it as I wished taking aim."

"That was understandable, but you made that blow, Messala, and it was indeed a good one. I wish I could remember it so I could have seen you."

Messala shuddered. "You don't want to remember it, Judah."

"Perhaps not. What I do remember is enough. Still, all that is over, and yes, we will keep practicing together many more days to come." He reached over at that moment to pick up a piece of fruit from the tray, turning his whole body to avoid having to extend his arm too much away from his ribs, and with the motion, he spotted Esther nearby. "Hello, Esther."

She came forward then, though she heard Messala's sigh. "Hello, Judah. It is good to see you up and around the house again."

"Thank you. It is good to be up and around again."

"My father says we leave tomorrow for Antioch." She reached out to him. "I just wanted to tell you goodbye."

He took her hand. "Goodbye, Esther, for now. I am sure we will meet again. The peace of God be with you."

"And with you." She stood there for a moment, then gave his hand a squeeze and turned away. As she left, she heard Messala speak quickly but softly.

"Now, Judah, before the next person interrupts us, I must seize the opportunity. You saved my life out there that day, Judah. You have my thanks. I wanted to tell you, no matter where life leads us, I will always remember that, and I will always be your friend."

"Always," Judah agreed.

Esther smiled as she went on, glad for the two friends that the ordeal was over and that they would have many more days to enjoy each other's company.