Ayala's King: Pt. 2

Welcome back to the second installment of Ayala's King! I hope you all are loving this story as much as I loved writing it. Without further ado, here's part two!

Part Two: 

The Star 

“Gather round, ye children, come, listen to the old, old story of the power of death undone by an infant born of glory. Son of God and Son of Man! So gather round, remember now, how creation held its breath, how it let out a sigh, and filled up the sky with the angels…. 

So sing out with joy for the brave little boy who was God but He made Himself nothing. Well, He gave up His pride and He came here to die like a man.” 

~Andrew Peterson, “Gather Round, Ye Children, Come”

Twenty-five years earlier 

Ayala skipped out to the courtyard, cradling the bar of soap close to her chest. “Ima gave me more lye!” she cried excitedly. “She said to be careful and not use it all.” 

“Perfect!” Mary smiled at the little girl as she took the soap dish, carefully pouring the lye into the large vat filled with steamy water. “And now we stir it all up.” She took up the wooden pole nearby and began to poke the clothes into the water, swirling them slowly to help the lye fully soak into the fabric. 

Ayala sat down in the dirt, drawing her knees up to her chest and tilting her head to the side to watch Mary work. She thought Mary might be the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen, with her long dark hair, always peeking out from under her veil. She had a smile ready for anyone at a moment’s notice, and she was always willing to let Ayala press her ear to Mary’s large abdomen to try and hear the child growing within her. 

Ayala’s family had been invited to their cousin Joseph’s wedding, many months ago. They had sent their apologies, deciding it would be too long of a journey with baby Miriam, and Ayala had heard about the wedding from her cousin Naomi. 

She disliked Naomi, who at the grand age of seven, thought herself Ayala’s superior, despite the fact that Ayala was only a year younger. Naomi had returned from Nazareth with grand stories of Joseph’s new wife, and how Mary had hugged her close and said she was her new favorite relation. Ayala resented Naomi for her claim on Mary’s heart, but even so, it was Ayala’s family that Mary and Joseph had chosen to stay with while they registered for the census. 

With the hundreds of people streaming into Bethlehem, Ayala’s family had been obligated to provide shelter for several family members. Mary and Joseph had been among the last to arrive, and they had without complaint taken the last available place to sleep: the courtyard, on a pile of hay. 

The door to the courtyard creaked as it started to swing open, and Ayala jumped to her feet excitedly, running straight for the two men who entered, shaking the dust from the road off their feet. Her father held out her arms for her, but she barreled into Joseph, who stumbled backwards dramatically. 

“Ouch!” he cried, pretending to struggle as he heaved her into the air. “Ah, Ayala– did you drop a rock into your insides?” 

Ayala giggled. “No, silly! Were the soldiers there? Did you see anyone you knew! Was it a long line? Did you get registered? Did you bring me back any food?” 

“Peace, Ayala,” her father rumbled as he pulled off his sandals. “You’ll give the man a headache.” 

Joseph laughed and touched Ayala’s nose fondly. “Yes, the soldiers were there, yes, I saw people I knew, yes, it was a long line, and…” he frowned. “....No? Why were you wondering about food?” 

Ayala squirmed until he put her down. “Well, Ima is making bread again, and Mary said that maybe sometime she could make honey rolls for me.” 

“Ah.” Joseph’s gaze shifted to Mary, who had abandoned the washing to come and join the three of them. “Mary is an angel with honey rolls.” 

“An angel who keeps them all for herself,” Mary teased, rubbing at her face tiredly. 

Joseph’s face softened, but before he could answer, Ayala jumped up and down, eager to hear the answer to her final question. “Did you get registered?” she repeated, hoping that the answer would be no. She didn’t want to think of Mary and Joseph leaving so soon. 

“I’m curious to this answer too,” Mary said, and Joseph sighed. 

“No,” he admitted. “The line was so long, and the soldiers organized us by families, which put me at nearly dead last. I didn’t want to worry anyone, so we came straight home, but I promise I’ll go at dawn tomorrow. And we’ll be home by the end of the week.” 

Mary nodded, but her smile was half-hearted. "I see."

Ayala’s father cleared his throat, cutting off any reply Joseph could have given. “Put these by the door, child,” he told Ayala, handing her his sandals. “Let’s go see what Ima has for dinner.” 

“I need to finish hanging the clothes up,” Mary murmured, and Joseph touched her shoulder lightly. 

“Let me do that, love. You look exhausted.” 

Mary raised her eyebrows. “Are you sure? I can finish, if–” 

Joseph turned imploring eyes on Ayala. “Look at what little confidence she has in me. Surely I can manage to hang a few clothes on a line.” 

Mary laughed, and Ayala took her hand, pulling her cousin to the kitchen. Ayala’s father followed, his face lined and covered with dust from the road he must have traveled with Joseph today. 

Ayala’s mother, Leah, straightened up from the oven as the three walked in. Her face was red and beaded with sweat from the meals she’d slaved over today– the other three families that were staying in the house had already eaten and were observing the evening prayers in their rooms. Leah drew her lips into a thin line at the sight of her husband. “Ach, Ezra! How did you get so filthy! And in my kitchen!” 

Ezra spread his hands. “Apologies. The line was long and dirty.” He leaned over baby Miriam’s cradle and touched her forehead gently. “She looks like you when she sleeps.” 

Leah acknowledged this with a sigh. “Dinner will be ready soon. Sit down, please, Ayala. Where’s Joseph?” 

“Outside,” Mary answered quietly. “He’s finishing hanging the clothes out for me. I’m sure he wouldn’t want to keep us waiting.” 

Ayala didn’t miss the way Mary kept her eyes lowered, or the way her mother glared. No matter how hard Mary seemed to work, Leah could always find some fault with her. She seemed to ignore the fact that Mary was happily sleeping out in the courtyard, and the fact that Mary was the only one of their guests who regularly helped with the household chores. In Leah’s opinion, no mere girl from Nazareth was good enough for her nephew, and the fact that Mary was with child already had only lowered her opinion of Joseph’s new wife

“The bowls are on the table,” said Leah shortly, turning back to stir her soup. 

Mary obediently reached for the bowls and set them at each place, making sure to set Ayala’s small one beside hers.  

Ezra set Miriam’s cradle rocking and took his own seat at the table. Mary sank down gratefully and Ayala jumped up beside her on the bench. She leaned against Mary, wrapping her arms around her cousin’s waist. 

Leah was ladling out the soup when Joseph slipped in, kissing his palm and pressing it to the doorframe before he sat down beside Mary. “The clothes have been hung,” he said cheerfully. “I can’t promise they won’t blow away.” 

   Leah snorted. “I’ll let you explain to your grandmother why her favorite shawl has lye marks on it, then.” 

Dinner was a quiet affair. Ezra said the customary blessing, then retreated into himself, eating quietly. Joseph ate more than everyone at the table combined, laughing heartily at Ayala’s jokes and making sure to compliment everything he touched. Ayala kept her mouth shut, as she usually did in front of her mother, but she watched Mary nibble at a crust of bread. Mary seemed even more quiet and tired than she usually did, eating only enough to pass Leah’s watchful gaze.

Ayala noticed that Joseph’s gaze returned to Mary many times, but he never addressed her. If he was worried, he hid it well, and finally Ezra dismissed the meal. 

Mary helped to pile the dishes beside the stove, but she moved slowly, and finally Leah took the bowls from her hands and ordered her out of her sight. Mary and Joseph slipped out to the courtyard, and Ayala dutifully dried the dishes until Leah ordered her upstairs to the loft for bed. She slipped up the stone steps as quietly as she could, not wanting to disturb the guests behind the other two doors. 

Alone, in the loft, Ayala pulled off her tunic and stood shivering in the cool air, dressed in only a thin shift. She hopped from one foot to the other as she tried to undo her braid without pulling out any tiny hairs. 

Downstairs, dishes slammed and chairs scraped as Leah cleaned the kitchen, then abruptly paused as Ezra said something softly. Ayala grimaced. She hated when her parents assumed she couldn’t hear a private conversation. Normally, she plugged her ears under her bedroll until they were finished, but Leah’s response made her stop in her tracks. She froze, then crept as close as she dared to the edge of the ladder. 

They were talking about Mary. 

“She’s trying,” Ezra was saying in his deep, gravelly voice. “Think of what she’s been through.” 

“A ten-day journey to Bethlehem?” Leah snapped. “Forgive me if I don’t think of that as a hardship.” 

“I meant back in Nazareth. You know it must have been hard on her.” 

“Then she should have considered that before.” 

Ezra hesitated. “You don’t believe her?” 

It was Leah’s turn to pause, and instinctively Ayala shrank back, imagining what her mother would say if she found her awake and listening. “I don’t know. But I do know that she’s a child.” 

“She’s Joseph’s wife,” Ezra protested gently. 

“I know that.” The sound of Leah resuming the dishes began again. “But Joseph deserves more than dreams and stories of angels. He should have a life with the girl of his dreams, someone who would bear his children.” 

“And she will.” 

Leah made a disbelieving sound. “She’s enchanted him with her big eyes and pretty manners.” 

Ezra replied, but Ayala didn’t hear him. She backed up until she bumped into her bedroll, then flattened herself out on top of it. 

Her eyes were closed and her breathing deep and even when her parents finally blew out the lamp and climbed the ladder. Ayala lay there silently as they both removed their outer garments and crawled into the bedmat they shared. She tried to keep perfectly still. Only when she heard her father’s breathing even out did she slip from her bedroll and tiptoe past Miriam’s cradle and down the ladder. 

The house looked different at night. Herbs hung from the rafters, casting strange shadows on the table. The fire had been banked for the night, but the coals still rippled like a dying sunset. Ayala wished she’d thought to bring her sandals, but it was too late to go back up for them now. 

She opened the door and darted out into the courtyard, holding her breath until the door managed to shut without creaking. 

It wasn’t a long walk across the courtyard, but Ayala took her time, certain that her mother would look out the window at any moment and find her gone. It took her what felt like an hour to reach the place under the overhang where her cousins slept. 

She found them both awake. Joseph sat with his back against a stone feeding trough the family used for their sheep in the wintertime, his arm curled around Mary. Her head was against his shoulder, her veil spread across her lap. She raised her head wearily as Ayala approached. “Hello, sweet girl. Shouldn’t you be asleep?” 

Ayala toed the ground, suddenly shy. Her mother’s words burned in her mind, and she struggled to figure out what to say. 

“I can’t sleep,” she blurted out, and Mary held out her arms. Ayala half fell into them, snuggling up against Mary’s side and pressing her ear against Mary’s abdomen. She couldn’t hear anything except for the rustling of Mary’s tunic, and she looked up at her cousin worriedly. “I can’t hear it.” 

“He’s been quiet tonight,” Mary said softly. She shifted, giving Ayala more room on the hay. “Now, tell us. Why are you awake at this hour?” 

“I know it can’t be because you’re hungry,” Joseph quipped teasingly, and Ayala flushed. 

“I heard Ima and Abba talking.” 

Mary stiffened. 

Joseph ran a hand through his hair, looking at Mary helplessly. “I see.” 

“Ima said that you deserve a girl who will give you your children.” Ayala turned distressed eyes on Joseph. “I don’t understand. Because Mary’s going to have a baby– do you have to give it away? Is it not yours to keep?” 

Mary rubbed Ayala’s arm slowly, and Joseph chuckled, a sound he made whenever he was nervous. “I think, Ayala, that you may have misunderstood what your mother meant. Yes, this baby is ours to keep. But he’s not mine by blood.” 

Ayala opened her mouth, confused, but Mary broke in. “This baby is different, and that’s hard for some people to understand.” Her fingers twisted over each other nervously in her lap. “It’s still hard for me to understand, even. But I know that Adonai’s plan is always perfect, and my place is simply to say that I am the Lord’s servant and will do what He asks.” 

“That was poetic.” Joseph grinned at his wife, and she flushed.

“It wasn’t meant to be.”  She looked down at Ayala’s upturned face and drew her finger down the little girl’s forehead, ending at the tip of her nose. “What other questions do you have, kitten?” 

Ayala had hundreds, but she remembered what her father had said about giving Joseph a headache, and chose the first one that came to mind. “What do you mean, different?” 

“Well, that’s a long story,” said Mary. “Are you cold?” She wrapped her veil around Ayala’s shoulders tightly. 

“No,” Ayala said, but she grabbed the edge of the shawl anyway. “I want to hear the story.” 

“Joseph should start it.” Mary wrapped her other arm around Ayala. “He tells it best.” 

“Oh no,” Joseph said, but he was smiling. He rubbed his hands together and stared at the sky for a long moment before beginning. “Do you remember the story of Isaiah, Ayala?” Ayala nodded. “I knew you would. Well, when Isaiah heard the voice of the Lord, asking Who will I send? Who will go for us? what did he respond with?”

“Here I am Lord, send me,” Ayala said automatically, and Mary let her breath slowly. 

“That’s wonderful, Ayala.” 

“I think Mary and I got a chance to echo what Isaiah said,” Joseph continued. “Because almost a year ago, Mary was visited by an angel.” 

Ayala stared. She’d heard stories of angels, constantly, but never had anyone she knew actually seen one. For four hundred years, the prophets had been silent, with no new revelations from Yahweh. The people had labored on blindly, trusting and hoping that their God had not abandoned them. But slowly, their hope had dwindled, and they’d forgotten to look for Yahweh’s goodness. 

For Yahweh to break his silence by sending an angel to a young girl from Nazareth was almost unthinkable. 

“What did he say?” she asked. 

“What did he say, Mary?” Joseph echoed, and Mary rolled her eyes playfully. 

“He said, ‘greetings oh favored one.’” 

“See, when the angel visited me, he didn’t call me favored.” 

“Well, perhaps that’s because you’re not the one carrying the baby.”

Their exchange flew over Ayala’s head. “You saw an angel too?” she demanded of her cousin. 

“Shh. Yes, but that comes later.” Joseph folded his arms easily. “So the angel said, greetings oh favored one! And he told Mary that she was going to have a baby. But not just an ordinary baby. Instead, she would give birth to the Messiah.” 

The Messiah. 

The words echoed through Ayala’s soul. 

She felt rooted to the floor. The Messiah. The one who would lead the Israelites to victory. Who would finally deliver them from captivity. 

The words of the scroll of Isaiah her father had taught her automatically flew out of her mouth. “For a child will be born for us, a son will be given to us, and the government will be on his shoulders.” 

“He will be named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” Mary finished in a whisper. “Yes. We are living the fulfillment of that prophecy, Ayala. This baby…. We can’t even begin to imagine how precious his life is. He is the king whose kingdom will never end.” 

“A king like David,” Ayala said helpfully. 

“In a way.” Joseph cleared his throat. “But David’s kingdom came to an end and so did he. This king? This king will never, ever give up his throne.” 

Ayala put her arms around Mary again. The baby inside of her felt special all at once, and she wanted to hold him tight and never let him go. “But you saw an angel too?” 

“Mhm.” Joseph rubbed the back of his neck, and Mary choked on a laugh. 

“Do you know how I was just saying it’s hard for people to understand? Well, Joseph didn’t just not understand… he thought I was lying.” She drew out her final word, putting a teasing twist on it, and Joseph sighed. 

“Listen, I wanted to believe you. But you have to admit… initially, I could only think of one thing when you told me you were with child. I wish I could take back my response in a heartbeat. But as I can’t, you’ll just have to trust that I believe you now.” He smiled at her, lacing their fingers together. 

“So, an angel visited him in a dream,” Mary went on. Her tone said she was ignoring her husband, but Ayala noticed the way she held on tightly to his hand. “And he confirmed my message and gave us both more than we could ever hope for.” 

“So you see, Ayala,” Joseph finished softly, “Our story is hard, and confusing, and I don’t blame your mother for being skeptical at all. But what matters is that we believe what Adonai has told us, and move forward faithfully.” 

“Just like the stars up there, faithfully moving across the earth,” Mary whispered, and Ayala stared at night sky, enraptured by the moonlight spilling across the floor.

"What are you going to name him?" she asked in a hushed whisper.

Joseph leaned down like he had an equally important secret. "The angel said to name him Jesus," he said dramatically.

"Or..." Mary prompted, and he raised one eyebrow.

"I thought you wanted me to tell this story, love."

"I do! But I want to give her all the details!"

"Fine," Joseph huffed, but he winked at Ayala. "Or: Emmanuel."

God with us.

Stay tuned for part three!! We're about to hit the climax. *grins and rubs hands together*

Here's part one if you missed it!

https://mirablueflower.wixsite.com/vintage-heart/post/ayala-s-king-part-one