Zimri tossed his gear over his shoulder. His two companions followed, grabbing their packs as well. Eliab stood watching, jaw dropped, yet absent of words.
Eliab finally muttered, “So, that’s it? In the middle of the season?”
“Yep… that’s it.” Zimri barely glanced up. He hurried to catch his two companions ahead of him.
Work paused in the grove. The men became onlookers while the drama was unfolding.
Eliab leaned on his staff, watching the trio move off and wondering how things had gone so wrong. After a long minute, he gathered himself, turning toward the press.
Seeing Eliab, Asher broke from staring and turned to the workers. “Come on. We still have a harvest to accomplish,” Asher called out, looking over his shoulder, seeing Eliab veering off, head down.
Asher glanced up twice more. He was biding his time so Eliab could digest the event. “Let’s take the olives,” Asher said to his helper. “Their baskets are nearly full,” Asher instructed his helper.
Asher slid a pole through both baskets, waiting for his helper to grab one end. They took the load onto their shoulders and headed toward Eliab.
Eliab looked up with a forced smile. “We are down three men,” he said, with a tight voice.
“We will manage,” Asher returned. “We have done fine with fewer workers in the past.”
Eliab nodded. His eyes lingered, unfocused for a moment, giving thought to the situation.
“He said he would rather starve than work for a man such as me,” Eliab vented. “A man like me?” His face froze on his last syllable as his head turned toward Asher.
Asher attempted to empathize; his lips barely parted until the silence became awkward.
Finally, Asher spoke. “That’s untrue, sir. I have never thought of you as anything but fair and gracious. You treated Zimri no differently, even when I could see your irritation.”
“I know I was harsh this morning. I found him slacking at camp with those other two while you and everyone else were in the grove making headway.” Eliab’s face tightened. “It had become a pattern.”
“I would have spoken to you about him and the other two, anyway.” Asher confirmed. “Like you said, their slothfulness was becoming worse each day. Others were grumbling. They claimed they had to pick up the slack.”
Eliab refocused his eyes on his work. “I saw it. I gave correction, and he responded with offense. It doesn’t matter now.” His voice became stern as his eyes met Asher’s. “We will have to make do and complete this harvest. Let’s make sure no one else wants to quit.”
Asher nodded, grabbing an empty basket and jogging to catch up with his helper.
A few days passed at Misthos Grove, and a new routine was gradually being worked out. Asher stayed committed to gathering the choice olives, yet didn’t abandon his foreman position. He worked off a ladder, remaining close to the primary operation. His helper steadied him, bracing the ladder with one foot while balancing a small basket on his shoulder.
The rest of the crew was steady, yet they felt the weight of being shorthanded. Extra work brought new challenges, though they took pride in overcoming, and were able to keep the quota.
“Watch out!”
A worker tripped over the man behind him. The basket went over. Olives rolled into the dirt.
“I didn’t see you,” the fallen man said, already reaching for the spilled olives.
Asher came down the ladder. He set the basket upright and helped the man to his feet.
“We’re short,” he said, loud enough for the row. “That doesn’t mean we rush. Watch your feet.”
After the brief reprimand, Asher had everyone’s attention. “Yes, we are short three men. We are still meeting the quota. I know it’s difficult, but take pride. Eliab sees the situation and knows your efforts.”
Asher continued to offer compliments where he could fit them. Everyone seemed to be more productive with a little extra bounce in their step.
Morning became evening, and harmony became their method.
The campfire crackled and popped as one man poked it. The men all found a seat, more spread out than previously. They waited patiently in expectation of the evening meal. Finally, one rose, then all of them, seeing Eliab and Asher approach.
“Mara didn’t disappoint, men,” Eliab smiled while placing a basket. Asher began preparing each worker’s portion. “Wine, bread, and onions, thanks to Amal.”
The mood quickly lifted, like the flock when the fold-gate is opened at evening.
“It is good to have you join us, Eliab,” an older worker welcomed.
“Yes, your company is enjoyable, and especially all the good food you bring,” a younger man joked.
Eliab only chuckled while stirring the pot over the fire. “You are a fine band of men and good company for me as well. Traditionally, I have stayed separate, but recent events have called me to be more involved. I just want to be sure everyone is happy here.”
“You need not worry, Eliab,” another worker spoke. “We do not think as Zimri, but are grateful, and looking forward to the good food makes the day shorter.”
“Hopefully, he found what he was looking for,” Eliab said, his face straight. “I hold no ill-will toward him.”
Another worker spoke with a mouthful. “I don’t miss him. Things are better. He has an opinion on everything.”
“It is true,” another chimed in, lowering his bread. “But he did have a way of making the day seem shorter.”
“What about you, Asher?” Eliab turned, glimpsing him through the flickering firelight. “Why do you think things didn’t work out?”
Asher seldom had much to say, but felt put on the spot this time. He kept his steady glare into the flames for a moment.
“Well, like most say, Zimri felt he should be in charge. He often barked commands, yet the others ignored him. They view him the same as all of us – a simple worker. I think pride ate at him. Pride took his will to push when he didn’t get what he wanted.”
“But you are in charge,” the older worker interjected. “You work harder, and don’t lord your knowledge over us. That’s why Eliab trusts you.” The man said, turning to see Eliab’s reaction.
By mid-morning, everyone was busy making substantial progress. The workers had a rhythm, and the olives were flowing. Between Asher and his helper gathering the choice fruit, and the bulk from the rest, Eliab was piled up at the press.
One worker broke from the others, staring down the path from Erudition. “Who is that?” he said.
Amal was not due for another day, and it was too early for Mara. Few visitors made the long trip to Misthos Grove, so everyone stopped to stare. In the distance appeared a traveler, carrying a pack and holding a familiar, steady pace.
“Let’s not lose our focus, men,” Asher summoned the workers back to their task. “We will see soon enough.”
“It looks like Zimri,” a younger worker peered before returning to work. “His pack looks light.”
Soon, the traveler was in range. He passed by, keeping his eyes on his path, and did not slow until nearing the press. Zimri stood back silently, waiting patiently.
Eliab continued his task without looking up. After a few minutes, he found a stopping place, motioned to his helper, then set his wooden paddle in its place. Eliab took a hand rag, looking up at Zimri.
He wiped his hands, set them on his hips, and looked Zimri over. “I didn’t expect to see you again.”
Zimri opened his mouth, but his lip trembled. His practiced words escaped his thoughts.
Eliab studied him some more. His arms and shoulders dropped. “You look thin and hungry.” the hardness left his mouth. “There is some leftover bread… from this morning, so come and sit, then we can talk.”
Zimri followed, finding a seat on a nearby stump. He took the stale bread, putting it to his lips, intending to nibble, but it vanished in two bites.
“I take it you didn’t find what you were looking for.” Eliab solemnly spoke.
Zimri had a mouthful, trying to answer. “I didn’t. I don’t expect you to take me back.” He swallowed. “I can only ask for forgiveness because I know I was wrong. I left wrong. I should not have left.” Zimri’s head lowered.
Eliab sighed, but said nothing. He watched as Zimri continued.
“I am truly sorry, and I don’t care about this fair treatment talk. I don’t speak about that now.”
Zimri’s apology became like begging, forcing Eliab to hold his hand up. “We can talk more,” he said, “but now I have much to do. Go and speak to Asher. He will instruct you.”
Zimri wiped his eye when Eliab rose and turned. He stood, heading for the olive grove.
Eliab watched in the distance as Zimri approached Asher. Asher pointed toward the other workers, and Zimri seemed to follow his instructions.
“Sorry, I’m running late,” Mara explained. “I had fish brine that had to make it to market today, but I still have a fair catch for the workers.”
“You are just in time,” Eliab smiled. “Since it is so late, you should join us tonight. You won’t make it home before dark.”
Mara thought for a moment. “Let me get the fish to your wife, then I’ll consider it.”
“Very good,” Eliab nodded. He turned to the grove, letting out a loud whistle. A couple turned to see him waving them in.
The men sat down as Mara approached with Eliab and his wife.
“So, Zimri,” the older worker questioned. “What happened to you out there?”
Zimri took a deep breath. “I was searching for work. No one seemed to need me. Finally, a man called Naqam approached. He said he had need of a talented man, then had me cleaning donkey pens. I worked hard for two days, then he only paid me half. He said I didn’t finish. He didn’t provide a meal, and I had no bread. I was hungry when I thought of Eliab. I thought about the way I had left. I was embarrassed.”
“Naqam?” Mara interjected. “No wonder you are half starved. That man does not hire unless he finds someone tired and desperate. He flatters you with one hand while preparing a trap with the other.”
Zimri was about to dip his bread in the pot, lowered it instead, attentive to Mara.
Mara raised her brow. “Still, your prideful feet blinded you. They led you to him.”
Mara grabbed his wrist, looking him in the eye with a slight smile. “The Giver can use bad intent for His good.”
Zimri looked at the bread in his hand. “I left a full table for crumbs.”
Eliab was standing by that time, digging in his coin purse. He began handing each their daily wage, saving Zimri for last.
“Here is your pay, Zimri,” Eliab said while dropping a silver coin into his hand.
Zimri stared at it for a brief moment. “Wait! I did not work even half a day. This is a full denarius.”
“Can’t I do as I please with my money?” Eliab’s voice evened.
Zimri’s mouth opened but quickly closed as he stared at the coin sitting in his hand like a rebuke.
Laughter broke out. The men came up slapping him on the back and grabbing his shoulder. Zimri let out a tightened chuckle, keeping his head down to hide the tear.
More Stories from Erudition
- Grace Without Works — Eliab hiring at the tree; the other side of this harvest.
- The Debt that Remained — Naqam, Mara, and mercy that is not earned.
- Rock and Grace — what the hands can build, and what they cannot.