“Nathaniel,” she whispered.
“Who’s Nathaniel?”
“My husband’s youngest brother.”
Another brother? “And why does he say you must marry him?”
She looked away and sighed, her face registering pain, as if she would rather do anything than explain this to him. “In Israel, a widow is required to marry her husband’s brother to produce a son, so his name will not die.”
All the air left his chest. He couldn’t breathe.
“If Gaddiel says no, the responsibility falls to the next brother, until there are no more. In theory I don’t have to, but if he does not release me, no one else can or will marry me.”
For a moment her words rendered him speechless. He had no idea her situation was so dire. “Tirzah, why didn’t you tell me?”
She raised her shoulders. “What would you have done?”
“Why does he say you will starve?”
“Once we reach Canaan, each tribe will be assigned land, which will be divided among the clans, and then among the families.” She took a shuddering breath and rubbed her arms. “If I had a son, I would be given some land in Jediel’s name, to hold until my son reached adulthood. As it is, I will receive no land, and will have no way to support myself or the girls.”
He shoved his own hurt away, his protective instinct taking over. “What can I do to help you?”
“There is nothing to be done.”
No. Not possible. “There must be something.”
She shook her head, gave him a sad smile, as if he were a small child.
His heart ached for her, but for once he had no power or wisdom to do anything. He despised feeling helpless.
“I’ve alienated everyone because I haven’t already married Gaddiel. Not that he wants me to. He’s happy with the arrangement as it is. But Nathaniel will not let me go. I’m going against hundreds of years of tradition, and the worst part is, I haven’t any better idea what to do.” She looked north. “I can pretend it’s not true as long as I am here in the desert with manna falling every day. If I were alone, it would be one thing. But I can’t let my girls starve. As soon as we reach Canaan, I’ll have to marry one of them.”
Gaddiel peered from behind the gnarled old tree. From the vineyards, a handful of fair-complexioned men approached. Gaddiel felt dizzy and grabbed onto the trunk. His breath came faster.
The men were twice as tall as Gaddiel, and had long blond hair tied up on the crowns of their heads. Their thighs were as wide as his entire body, their heads as wide as his chest. Their voices were so deep they caused Gaddiel’s bones to rattle. The muscles in his shoulders grew tight, and though he wanted to run, he couldn’t bring himself to move.
The shortest—if you could call him short in any sense of the word— and stockiest one led a sheep. As the animal passed Gaddiel, its ear brushed the trunk he leaned upon.
The trio stopped outside the city walls. The stocky one grabbed the sheep, straddled it, and twisted its neck. The animal collapsed in a heap. The giant took out a knife and skinned the creature while the other giants built a fire with a spit. After he skinned it, the man skewered the animal and set it over the flames.
The twelve retreated farther into the grove. Once far enough away to assume the giants could not hear them, Gaddiel wasted no time sharing his opinions. He pointed back toward the fortified city. “Did you see them? Now we know how these walls were built!”
“They’re huge. Are they all like that or just the guards?” Sethur peered around a tree, angling for a better view.
“It doesn’t matter. As I said, we cannot take this city,” Gaddiel said.
“You’re right, we can’t. But we don’t have to. Yahweh will give it to us.” Joshua crossed his arms.
Gaddiel scoffed. Did Joshua’s confidence know no bounds?
“We’ll keep watch until daybreak to see what the other inhabitants look like. We’ll watch in shifts.” Caleb held up three fingers.
“Three at a time.”
Once again, Caleb makes a decision single-handedly. Might as well get it over with. “I’ll go first. Palti, Shammua, with me.” Gaddiel headed toward the edge of the grove.
They stole as close as they dared and watched.
The hulking blond guards drank from an enormous jug stashed by the gate. They stuffed mutton in their huge maws and poured the drink down their seemingly bottomless throats. The longer they sat, the louder they talked. The stocky one must have insulted another, since the pair stood and started throwing punches. They seemed to enjoy fighting, and when they were done, sat again and laughed and drank, slugging each other on the arm.
At the end of their shift, Gaddiel lay down to catch a few hours’ sleep. It was a fitful sleep, however, and far from restful.
Gaddiel awoke to Sethur shaking him. Geuel, Ammiel, and Gaddi had returned from their turn keeping watch over the guards. They joined the rest of the group seated in a circle. Though the morning was cool, they dared not start a fire.
“They opened the gates. Only a few people are up yet, but everyone we’ve seen so far is a giant.” Ammiel spoke for his group.
“So, the legends are true. You said they were only myths! You said everything would be all right!” Igal waved his hands in the air, barely able to breathe.
“Igal, be calm.” Sethur turned toward Igal and grasped his shoulders.
“They’re Nephilim. I thought they were destroyed in the flood. How are they still here?” Nahbi stared down toward the fortress.
“They’re not Nephilim.” Caleb’s voice was firm.
Nahbi jumped to his feet. “They are. They are undefeatable. God sent a flood to rid the world of them because they were so evil.” He brought his hands to his head. “How did they get back here?”
Caleb rose and stared down Nahbi. “They are not Nephilim. The Nephilim are gone. They are the sons of Anak, the Anakim. They may be descendants of the Nephilim, but they are only human.”
Nahbi glared back, clearly deciding whether to take on Caleb. He must have decided against it, since he sat back down. Too bad. Gaddiel would have helped.
Gaddiel stood. “Nephilim, Anakim, does it matter? Take a good look at them. We can’t win. They’ll use us as playthings. It’s useless to even try!”
Joshua, silent until now, rose. “Yahweh is with us. He parted the waters. He destroyed Pharaoh’s army. He defeated the Amalekites. He can defeat the Anakim.”
Gaddiel took two long strides toward Joshua. “The Amalekites and the Egyptians were not giants! These people are. They’re massive. They love to fight. They fight each other if there’s no one else around. They won’t even need weapons!”
“Yahweh has given us the land. It is not our decision whether or not to take it.” Joshua bent and picked up his spear. “We are done here. Time to move on.” He glared at Gaddiel as if daring him to challenge the order, then stormed off.
Joshua was just like Caleb. Make a decision. Make a pronouncement. Brook no opposition.
Gaddiel groaned. He’d had enough. He wasn’t sure how, but it was time to make his move.
Seven
8 Tammuz
Kamose knelt behind the broom bush where he’d been for the better part of an hour. His thighs ached, but he ignored the pain. He would gain his reward soon. He scanned the foothills of the mountains northeast of camp. Fingers of light clawed their way into the gray sky, loath to give up their hold on the night.
There it was—a flash of white. A streak of brown. Then nothing. He slowly raised his head and chest above the brush and stared down the length of the arrow. He aimed below and to the right of where the movement had been and lifted his bow. When the Nubian ibex took another step down the rocks, it was his last.
Kamose sent another arrow flying to ensure the animal was dead. He strolled to where the magnificent creature lay at the base of the mountains. He ran his hands down the long, gently curved horns. The tan coat was broken by the dark brown stripe down its back. It would make a
warm blanket.
Kamose pulled out his dagger and began to field dress the deer. He removed the inner organs, then carried them a good distance away. The meat would feed several families near their tent. He concentrated on each step to keep Tirzah out of his mind, repeating to himself the instructions, as if training someone next to him.
It worked until it was time to drain the blood from the ibex. He tied the front feet together and hung the beautiful animal from a tree branch, and then all he had to do was sit for a while. His mind returned to her. No matter how many times he tried to shift his thoughts to something else, they always came back to Tirzah. Beautiful Tirzah. Her tinkling laugh had invaded his dreams last night.
He stood and paced, his hands clasped behind his neck.
He’d spent his whole life believing soldiers don’t make good husbands.
Then again, he was no longer a soldier, was he? Right now, he was nothing. Not an Israelite. He’d embraced Yahweh, had found a family here. But not everyone accepted him. He wasn’t truly one of them. Yet not really an Egyptian. Not anymore. He’d turned his back on his country, his king, his gods.
He wasn’t a warrior—he had no army. No longer a bodyguard—he had no one to protect. He wasn’t a father or a husband. He was an uncle and a friend. That was about it.
So was he free to think about a woman? What did he have to offer? Not much. But as far as Tirzah was concerned, he was certainly no worse than Gaddiel or Nathaniel. He would never hurt her like Nathaniel had done. Never take her for granted like Gaddiel. No, he would honor her. Treasure her.
Love her.
After the blood drained, he took the carcass and returned to camp. Heading for their tent, he noticed Bezalel, Meri, and Tirzah sitting outside. “I hope you kept the fire going.” He lifted the enormous animal from his shoulders and held it by its feet while he shrugged the pelt to the sand several strides from the fire pit.
Meri jumped up and grabbed the skin, calling to Tirzah for help.
Kamose glanced at Tirzah, who sat by Meri’s tent with wide eyes and an open mouth. He’d impressed her. A rush went through him and he smiled.
“Tirzah!” Meri’s sharp command drew Tirzah’s attention and she stood. “Help me spread this out.”
The women stretched out the skin, fur side down, and Kamose dropped the carcass onto it. He removed his dagger and sliced off huge cuts of meat. Meri slipped inside her tent and returned with a long knife.
Bezalel rose and took it from her.
Nahshon and Sheerah joined them as well, and the women built up the fire in front of Bezalel’s tent while the men carved up the ibex.
“Better watch where you’re cutting, or you’ll slice off a finger instead of meat.” Bezalel grinned at Kamose.
“What are you talking about?”
Nahshon pointed his blade over his shoulder. “You keep looking at her instead of this ibex.”
Kamose only grunted.
“Have you kissed her yet?”
“What?” Kamose stopped and pulled himself up to his full height, staring down at Bezalel.
Bezalel didn’t flinch. “Have—you—kissed—her—yet?”
Kamose frowned. “I don’t know if she wants me to.”
Nahshon sputtered in laughter. “Of—” He looked around. “Of course she does. Didn’t you see the way she’s been staring at you? She watches your every move.”
“Just as you watch hers,” said Bezalel.
“Shut up.” Kamose pointed his dagger at Bezalel.
Bezalel only laughed.
“Not the captain anymore. Can’t scare him.” Nahshon grinned.
“I noticed.” Kamose threw a piece of meat onto the growing pile with more force than necessary.
Hours later, Kamose returned from a walk around the camp. The aroma of roasted meat tickled his nose.
Ahmose skipped into camp with the twins, each carrying a pot full of dates.
Tirzah followed several steps behind. She walked slowly, which did nothing to make her stride any less enticing. She raised her hands and ran them through her hair, piling it upon her head for just a few moments and then letting it fall around her shoulders.
Kamose squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, Bezalel was biting his lower lip to hold in a laugh. Kamose glared at him.
With the ibex nearly ready, the women browned manna cakes. The children scooted up next to their mothers around the fire and waited as the bread made its way around the extra large circle. Somehow, when all were seated, the only spot left for Tirzah was next to Kamose.
Kamose detected a plan. He searched for Bezalel and Nahshon, but no one would return his gaze. He tried Sheerah and Meri, but Sheerah was busy handing out dates and Meri only smiled sweetly—and innocently.
Not that he objected. He just didn’t want Tirzah forced on him. He never could tell what hid behind her eyes.
She approached with two plates and offered him one.
“Would you care to join me?” He took both and pointed to the empty spot.
“I don’t think there’s any other choice.” She laughed as she sat.
He grinned and handed back her plate, and her hand brushed his as she took it. Her fingers were long and lean, and wonderfully soft against his callused skin.
“Thank you for the meat. It smells wonderful.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I see you got all the blood off.” She pointed to his shoulders.
He chuckled. “That must have looked pretty bad.”
She took a deep breath. “Not too bad.” She gave him a smile that reached all the way to her light brown eyes. Then, as if she thought better of it, pulled her gaze from his and suppressed her smile.
What did that mean? Was she afraid? Or was she just not interested at all?
But her smile—it lit up her face. If only he could see it more often. He knew now what he wanted.
She would have to decide for herself.
Kamose leaned back against the log by the stream, for the first time completely comfortable in Tirzah’s presence. Yahweh’s glowing cloud kept the heat to a reasonable level, and in the shade of the tall, waving date palms, it was even pleasant. Black-headed bulbuls called from their nests in the branches overhead, their melancholy songs overlapping one another.
Tirzah folded her long legs to one side, bumping into him with her shoulder for just a moment. Her tan eyes peered at him from under long, dark lashes as she winced. “I’m sorry.”
I’m not. The heat of her touch rushed through him, from his arm to his torso to his feet, and he took a deep breath.
“Hungry?” He stood and walked over to a tree to their left. A branch drooping under the weight of a large bunch of oval-shaped fruit held dozens of ripe dates out of reach. He stepped up onto a large rock that had long ago slammed into the stand of palms and stretched to pull the bunch close enough to pick the dates. His foot slid a sandal’s length and he grabbed a lower branch to keep from falling.
Tirzah’s gasp gave him a strange and unexpected burst of satisfaction.
He glanced down at her as he righted himself and smiled when she blushed. Grasping a handful of slender, long leaves from the upper branch in each hand, he tied a knot to the branch beneath it, leaving the fruit dangling within reach of the ground. He selected the dates that had matured and tossed them at her feet, enjoying her laugh, before he stepped down and sat next to her again.
The girls chased Ahmose as he led them in a game of follow-me, around the palms, under broom bushes, and over fallen logs and rocks. At first glance, the twins looked almost exactly alike. Keren’s hair was slightly straighter and a shade lighter, and Naomi had a tiny mole under the lower lashes of her left eye, but those were the only differences Kamose could see.
In personality, however, the girls were as different as the delta and the desert. Keren was fearless and interminably cheerful. The only time she wasn’t laughing was when she was asleep. She was the perfect playmate for Ahmose, ready to do anything h
e proposed. Naomi was shy, wouldn’t try anything until Keren had done so first, and preferred to stay near Tirzah.
Kamose ripped open a dark brown, glossy date, pulled out the stone, and handed the meat to Tirzah.
She bit into the juicy fruit, closing her eyes as she savored it. A piece stuck to her lips, and he reached to wipe it away.
She opened her eyes.
He froze, his thumb on her mouth, his fingers on her cheek. He longed to plunge his hand into her hair, draw her near, and kiss her. He was debating whether he should move closer when Naomi’s cry decided for him. He suppressed a sigh as he retracted his arm and focused on the girl. She had tripped, skinning her knee.
Ahmose was beside her in an instant, blowing on the tiny wound and distracting her from the sting. He even got her to laugh. Briefly. She pushed herself off the ground and padded toward Tirzah.
Kamose chuckled. “I think she’s giving up for the afternoon.”
“She didn’t sleep last night. It was an especially bad night.” Tirzah stifled a yawn.
“And so you didn’t sleep either.”
Tirzah shrugged, leaned forward, and wrapped her arms around her daughter. “Sleepy?”
Naomi nodded, rubbing her eyes.
“Sit with me for a while.”
“I want him.” Naomi tipped her head toward Kamose, and before he could say anything, she crawled onto his lap, pulled her knees up, and rested her head on his chest.
Momentarily stunned, his mind blank, his hands out to the side, Kamose gaped at the tiny figure snuggled against him. Her action caught him off-guard as much as any enemy ambush. An overwhelming need to shield and comfort her crept over him, and he wrapped his arms around her.
Tirzah stared at the pair, her eyes as big as the fruit hanging above them. “She has never let anyone hold her but me. Many others have tried to calm her, but she refuses to allow them to even touch her. I can’t believe she did that.”
Holding a small child in his arms both delighted and shocked Kamose. If he had spent his adult life avoiding falling in love with a woman, he had certainly never even considered children. Ahmose had stolen into his life as his sister’s child, first as a vague responsibility, and now as more of a tiny friend. He dearly loved the boy, but this was entirely different. The image of a life with a woman and children hovered in the forefront of his mind. A family—his family.
By the Waters of Kadesh (Journey to Canaan) Page 8
