“Danel!”
Another shout. Why was Keret so impatient?
Danel quickened his step to a near jog. He shifted the tray onto one hand and knocked once before entering the king’s private room without waiting for a response. “Yes, my king?”
“Where have you been? The day is half gone already!”
There was no use arguing. Or even asking Keret to look out the window to see the sun had barely risen above the mountains in the distance. Danel set the tray on a table and bowed. “I beg your forgiveness, my king.”
Keret snorted, but his face softened. “You should.”
Danel lifted the pitcher and filled a glass with the deep red liquid. Danel found the beverage sour, but it was the monarch’s favorite. He cut off a thick piece of cheese and a slice of bread, then arranged both on a plate, which he set next to the cup.
Keret downed the juice in one gulp but ignored the food. He flipped his long robe around and paced silently.
Danel moved to the window and pushed aside the wooden cover. The dry breeze carried in hints of almond and grape blossoms. Beyond the walls the farmers could be heard harvesting wheat as they worked together to bring in the grain, one farm at a time.
Danel stepped back and waited. The king’s sandals slapped against the stone floor as he stalked back and forth, his face pinched into a frown. Five or six times lately Keret had called for Danel but then paced for several long moments before he spoke. It was quite unsettling. And a waste of time. Danel clenched his jaw to keep from sighing, locked his knees to avoid tapping his foot.
Keret stilled and stared out the window, south toward the Israelite camp. “How long?”
“Thirty-nine years, two months. Almost.”
Keret paced some more. “We need to begin sending scouts out on a regular basis. Send a patrol out only far enough to see the camp, make sure they are not preparing to move. Have them take care to remain unseen. Once every other week.”
“Yes, my king.”
Keret raised his brows. “You’re not going to argue with me?”
Danel smiled. “Would it do any good?
The king waved a hand. “Of course not. But you’re not going to tell me it isn’t time? That they’re not coming yet? That Kamose”—he sneered at the name—“said forty years, and forty years is still ten months away?”
“No. On the contrary, I think this is a very wise decision.”
Keret narrowed his eyes. “You do?”
“Yes, my king.”
“Of course. A good commander always knows exactly where his enemy is at all times. You must always be one step ahead.”
Keret’s face brightened. “Yes! Precisely!”
“And the only way to know where they are, is to go find them. So patrols make perfect sense.”
“Then go. Make it happen. I want the first patrol out within three days.”
“Of course.” Danel bowed again and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Time to see Aqhat.
Danel finished his morning’s duties and hurried to the officer’s workroom.
“He wants what?” Aqhat furrowed his brow and closed his eyes, as if he hoped the answer might change.
“Patrols. First one in three days.”
Aqhat growled.
Danel shrugged. “Think of them as … training exercises.”
“They’ll have to be. They won’t be good for anything else. It hasn’t been forty years.”
“I know. But arguing with him about it would only make him that much more determined.”
Aqhat walked behind his desk. “I know. What do you think will happen when they do start marching north?”
“North into Canaan?”
“Yes.”
Danel shook his head. “I don’t know. Yahweh promised them this land. They beat the Egyptian army. They beat the Amalekites.”
Aqhat leaned on his palms. “I know. So, if we had a say, what would we do? Would we put up a fight? Would we even try? Would we just surrender? What would be the best plan? I mean, I know Keret would have us fight to the death for his city. But I’m having real problems preparing for a war I know in my heart we will lose.” He straightened, crossed his arms over his chest. “How do I as a commander, send my men into certain death? In any other battle, there is at least a chance, no matter how small, that we can win. I study, I strategize, I eliminate every possible risk to try to protect my men as much as possible. But what do I do here?” He dragged his hands though his hair. “Really, what do I do? Some days, I’m ready to resign my commission and let someone else do it.”
Danel leaned against the door. “I know. I know. Things are starting to get very complicated. Until now, we’ve been able to hide our worship of Yahweh. Avoid sacrificing to the false gods. Live a life in between. I am afraid that will not be possible for very much longer. Lukii’s comments last week were … unsettling, to say the least, and I fear we may be betrayed. The bigger our number grows, the stronger the possibility becomes.”
“I’ve been watching him, and I’ve had a few more conversations with him. I don’t think we have anything to worry about right now.”
“Perhaps not. But I think we need to alert the other leaders that from now on it may be wise to spend time in our meetings praying for strength and wisdom. If we thought it has been difficult until now, I believe the hard part has only begun.”
Fourteen
28th day of Ziv
“HER ROBE IS ready. I have the tent prepared. I have cheese and dates and manna and milk inside.” Zadok counted on his fingers as he spoke. “What am I forgetting?”
“Nothing.” Jacob laughed. “Nothing, except to put on your robe and go get her.” He reached for the garment lying on the blanket at their feet. “Did you get any sleep at all last night?”
“I think so. Somewhere toward dawn I must have finally dozed off.”
“Nervous? Or excited?” He shook out the robe and held it up.
“Both.” Zadok slipped his arms into the sleeves and held them out to the sides. “Abba’s robe fits well.”
“It should. You’re almost exactly the same size. Except for your hair, I can barely tell you apart from the back.” He grinned. “You look good.” Jacob picked up the blanket and folded it. “Your last night sleeping on the ground. Should I take this to your new tent or to your abba’s?”
“Neither. Leave it. I may not be staying here, but someone else will be.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I prefer having someone out here with them just in case.”
He set the blanket back on the ground. “All right. Ready, then?”
Zadok nodded, then headed toward the pasture gate. “How’s Zivah feeling? Any better?”
“Yes, her nausea has stopped.”
“Any more news on the mission to Edom?”
“We’ll leave once the new moon has passed, so we’ll have light on the journey. Joshua says we’ll ‘just head east.’ Bozrah is where their king lives, but he says they will find us long before we reach Bozrah.”
“Hmmm.” Zadok had heard all Jacob’s words, but at the moment their importance was lost on him.
As they reached his family’s tent, Zadok’s chest tightened. He closed his eyes and inhaled a deep breath. Would he disappoint her? Was she still afraid of him? Had he earned her trust yet?
Would he ever?
He stopped in front of the tent and softly called her name.
His mother stepped outside. “She’s almost ready. Just give her a moment.” She brushed her hands down his arms. “You remind me of Ahmose on our wedding day.”
Zadok glanced around. “Where is he?”
“He’ll be here in a moment.”
The tent flap rustled. His breathing caught. A hand pulled the fabric back a bit, then retreated. He groaned.
Imma’s laugh caused him to scowl at her. “Calm down, habibi.” She patted his arm as she glanced over his shoulder. “Ah, here he comes.”
Zadok tur
ned his head, shocked to see Abba approach with Moses.
Abba gestured toward the tent. “She still inside?”
Zadok growled.
Abba laughed.
Moses stood next to him and placed his arm around him. “Zadok, I know you are already married according to the law, and you only need a witness today, but I promised Miriam I would make sure this was completed. Is that all right with you?”
“Yes. Will Arisha object?” Zadok’s gaze shot to the tent as the fabric shifted again. A head peered out. He avoided sighing audibly as his sister emerged. A moment passed, his heart beating wildly. Finally, his bride stepped from the tent, and his mouth felt like it was full of sand.
She smiled shyly at him from behind his sister. Her dark hair fell softly out of her head wrap, around her face, curling gently along the border that lined the neck of her robe. She held her hands in front of her chest, the fingers of one hand rubbing the scar on the palm of the other, a clear sign she was nervous, he’d learned.
Abba’s hand landed on his shoulder. “I don’t think she cares who else is here.”
Zadok pulled his stare from Arisha. “Moses?”
“Yes?”
“Would you bless us?”
“I’d consider it an honor.” Moses took Arisha's hand in his, grasping Zadok’s bicep with his other. “May you learn as your sabba Bezalel did, that it is a blessing to dwell in the shadow of the Most High. May you also learn, as did your sabba Kamose, that if Yahweh is your dwelling, He will be your refuge. Call on His name, and He will rescue you; He will protect you if you acknowledge His name. He will answer you; He will be with you in trouble and deliver you. He will satisfy you with long life.” He stepped back and continued. “Care for each other as Yahweh cares for you, and you will enjoy your life together.”
After goodbyes and kisses from Abba and Imma, Zadok led Arisha to their new tent just several strides away. He held the fabric back for her and they stepped inside.
“Are you hungry?”
She nodded.
He sat and reached for a plate and skin in the center of the room, poured milk into two cups, then handed her one. The plate held cheese, manna and dates. “Do you just want to talk for a while?”
She nodded again.
After several more moments of silence, he took her hand. “Are you nervous? About marrying me?”
She wiped away a tear. “What if I displease you? Make you unhappy?”
“How could you possibly make me unhappy? You’ve already made me completely happy by becoming my wife.”
“What if I burn the manna? Never learn to sew?”
Zadok burst out laughing. “Learn to sew? Is that what you’re worried about? Do you think you have to master those things for me to love you?”
She shrugged.
“Arisha, I love you because I love you. There is nothing you can do to make me love you more. There is nothing you can do to make me stop loving you. I will always love you.” He leaned in and brushed her lips with his. “I will tell you every morning that I love you.” He kissed her again, then moved his lips to her ear. “Maybe one day you’ll believe me.”
Once again the king bellowed for Danel. From the anteroom off the hall Danel strode to the throne room, grabbing a cup of juice as he left. No need to rush—no matter how soon he arrived, he would be late.
“Danel!” The king glared down at him from behind his throne. “What took so long?”
Danel remained silent as he ascended the dais, then extended the cup.
Keret ignored the offer. His robe lay tossed over the arm of the throne; his crown teetered on the edge of the pedestal nearby. “Where is the patrol? I heard they have returned.”
“Would you like some juice?”
Keret gripped the back of the chair. “The patrol?”
“I hadn’t heard that. Would you like me to check?”
“Bring me the commander,” he growled.
“I shall. But in the meantime, may I suggest you calm yourself first? Drink your juice. Put on your robe and crown. You’ll want to look like the king when you talk to him, not a farmer.”
“You do not give me orders.”
“Yes, my king.” Danel set the cup down. He picked up the robe and folded it, then laid it neatly on the pedestal before taking up the crown. He stepped nearer to Keret and held up the symbol of his office.
Keret frowned and narrowed his eyes but allowed Danel to place the gold object on his head.
Danel stepped back, eyed the crown, reached out and adjusted it. “Much better.”
“If you say so.”
“I do. Drink the juice. You’ll feel better.” He bowed, then left the throne room, shaking his head. The king’s obsession with the Israelites was getting the better of him.
Danel headed for the army quarters. Someone there must know something.
A clerk, so young he must have just been hired, ambled from the direction of Aqhat’s offices. His tunic was askew; his sandals dusty. He picked at his fingernails as he walked.
“Is your commander in his office?”
The boy looked up, stumbled back a half-step. He glanced over his shoulder. “N- no, I was just looking for him.”
“Have you heard whether the patrol is back or not?”
“Word is they just arrived.”
“Where would they go first?”
“I believe to the practice field.”
“Thank you.” Danel turned to go, but stopped to face the clerk for a moment. “And clean yourself up before he sees you. Otherwise you’ll be cleaning up after the cattle. Or worse.”
The boy frowned. “You’re not in the army. How do you know what will happen?”
Danel raised a brow. “I know Aqhat.”
The boy’s bottom lip quivered for just a moment, then thinned as he pressed his lips together.
Danel turned on his heel and headed right at the first corner, toward the field. A short hallway later, he blinked as he stepped into the bright morning light. He shaded his eyes and scanned the area. Not far from where he stood perhaps twenty men gathered around a long table piled with grapes, bread, cheese, and pitchers. One of the soldiers shoved the grapes aside as a portly, bald cook set a large pot next to a stack of bowls. The older man removed a ladle from his sash and began filling the bowls, which the men greedily snatched up. Sounds of chewing and swallowing and occasional moaning filled the air.
Danel strode up to Aqhat. “Welcome home.”
Aqhat smiled and slurped a huge bite of stew into his mouth. “This tastes so good. We haven’t had hot food in four days.” He took another bite. “Want some?” He gestured with his bowl toward the pot.
Danel grabbed a bowl and filed it with stew, balancing some bread on the edge. “I didn’t realize you had gone with them.”
“On this first one I did, so I could better plan for the others. And I wanted a look at the camp for myself.”
“Good, because Keret wants a report.”
“I know.”
“Now.”
“Can’t I finish eating first?” Aqhat spoke around a mouthful of meat.
“Better hurry. He’s quite anxious to hear the news.”
Aqhat started to set his bowl on the table, but Danel stopped him. “Eat it on the way.”
The walk back to the throne room was quick and filled with the sounds of slurping stew. At the door, Danel handed their bowls to a servant. Aqhat was dirty, sweaty and exhausted. Normally he would never be allowed in the king’s presence in such condition, but today was different.
Both men walked into the room. Danel moved to stand near the king, while Aqhat stopped in the center of the room, helmet in hand. He dropped to one knee and bowed his head low, waiting to be recognized.
Keret was talking to an attendant, and it was several moments before he called the warrior’s name.
Aqhat raised his head. “My king?”
“Stand.”
He obeyed.
“What did your patrols f
ind?”
“We saw no move by the Israelites to break camp.”
“Nothing to indicate they are preparing to come here?”
“Nothing.”
Keret leaned forward. “You must be certain.”
“I am. There are no tents being torn down, nothing being packed up, nothing being moved. Livestock are scattered in the pasture. From as close as we could get, I saw not a single sign of departure.”
“Very well. You will return in two weeks.”
“Yes, my king.”
“You may go.”
Aqhat bowed deeply and retreated.
Keret watched him leave, drumming his fingers on the arm of his throne. “I don’t care what he says. They’re coming.”
“They can’t come if their tents are still staked down. It would take days to pack up that camp. I wouldn’t worry about it yet.”
Keret slammed his hands down. “I will worry about it! I have known this for forty years. They are coming, and they are coming sooner than you think.” He rose and stalked out of the room, waving his arms and muttering under his breath.
Danel let out a slow exhale. The last year of waiting had barely begun, and the king was already nearly out of control.
It promised to be a long ten months.
And Danel wasn’t at all sure he would survive.
In the middle of the night Arisha awoke with a start and glanced around the dark tent. Something was wrong. Her heart beat quickened; every muscle tensed. Where was she? She stared hard at the flap of the tent. Why was it in the wrong place?
Oh. Her heartbeat slowed. Another new tent. How many different places had she called home in her short life? Too many to count. None of them ever felt … permanent. Real.
A soft push against her back reminded her of Zadok’s presence. His chest pressed warm against her, expanding with every breath, then withdrawing again. His arm draped over her waist, holding her close.
She closed her eyes again and savored the contact, entwined her fingers with his, pulling his hand to her chest. In the middle of the night, it was easy to imagine a life with him. Pretend he would always be there. See children, grandchildren. A long life, a happy life.
The Walls of Arad Page 14
