Sons of Zadok by Michael Vetter

Author:Michael Vetter [Vetter, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fiction
Publisher: Michael Vetter
Published: 2017-01-17T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21

City of Jerusalem, Shlomo’s house on Eliphaz Street

721 B.C.

During their walk to Shlomo’s house they managed to avoid Assyrian patrols by keeping to back alleys until they reached Eliphaz Street. Shlomo inherited Uzziel’s large home when he died and chose to leave the façade facing the street in disrepair to discourage any inquiries about its occupant. Before they reached the front door they heard shouts and splintering wood from where merchants had richly decorated houses. Enraged troops must be demolishing dwellings in search of valuables hidden behind walls or buried in gardens. They would continue ransacking the wealthy parts of town and ignore this street of dilapidated and abandoned homes. Shlomo felt safe living in this poorer part of town. Shlomo said nothing during their walk. From their appearance and their reaction to the Temple’s desecration, the two men appeared to be devout believers in the LORD—could they also be Kohathites?

As Uzziel intended from the time he acquired it, the limestone block house seemed small and neglected from the outside. The weather-beaten front door was more solid than it appeared and the rusty iron gratings on the windows were not decorative but sturdy enough to deter thieves. Once inside, Uzziel securely bolted the door and lit candles to illuminate polished white marble floors, beamed ceilings, walls covered with expensive tapestries, and a tasteful arrangements of rugs around a corner fireplace. Inside, this was a home to rival the mansions of wealthy merchants.

“What are your names?” their host asked when his two guests settled onto plush rugs before a small fire that spread its warmth and sent smoke up through a hole in the high ceiling. He tempered what sounded like an interrogation by pouring each of them a cup of hot tea and sliding a plate of sweet bread in their direction. They were in the main room at the back of his narrow home that was wedged between multi-storied homes on a side street ten blocks from the Temple. Two empty buildings overshadowed his small, humble dwelling and added to its nondescript front. From the back alley it could be mistaken for a storage building. Over the years, mobs of thugs sacked the neighbors’ homes but ignored him and his shabby house with its unpainted, patched walls. Inside, it was spacious and comfortable enough for a single Levite. One window looked out through shrubs to an abandoned green courtyard. This was the home of the last Son of Zadok.

“My name is Phazim,” his older visitor mumbled through a mouthful of dates. He was as thin as a stick with light and dark blotches on his face and arms that some mistook for leprosy, although a Temple priest had certified that it was not. In fact, he had fallen into a fire as a youngster and the burns, though long healed, left him deformed. He had lost all the hair on his head and arms. Shlomo didn’t recall ever seeing him in the Temple before.

“And you?” he asked the younger who was working on his third piece of bread.

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