Moses shook his head. “They’ll never learn.” He headed into the courtyard.
Kamose and Joshua strolled toward their tents. As they neared Joshua’s tent, he knelt in front of it. “Give me a moment.” He reached inside and brought out a basket of some of the grapes they’d brought back.
They returned to Kamose’s fire pit and sat. Joshua grabbed a grape as he eyed Kamose. “So, care to explain the tunic?”
“I’m not an Egyptian soldier anymore.”
“You haven’t been for over a year. Why now?”
Kamose opened his mouth, but before he could answer, Tirzah emerged from their tent.
Joshua’s eyes grew as wide as the grape in his mouth.
She smiled at Kamose. “I’m going to collect the manna. Shall I get yours, Joshua?”
Joshua managed a nod.
After she left, Joshua punched Kamose in the arm. “She’s why. Isn’t she?”
“Partly.”
“You married her? I’m gone less than six weeks and you get married? Who is she? You didn’t even know her when I left.”
Kamose could not stop the smile that took over his face. “Long story. She had to marry someone. She was a widow. Her brother-in-law was Gaddiel.”
Joshua let out a long breath. “Oh-h-h-h. I understand. No woman would want to marry him.”
“Well, he didn’t want her, either. A younger brother did, though. But he hurt her. I married her to keep her safe.”
Joshua smirked. “To keep her safe? That the only reason?”
“Maybe not the only reason.” Kamose chuckled as his neck heated.
Naomi and Keren tumbled out of the tent.
Keren wandered into Rebekah’s tent, looking for Ahmose. Naomi padded to Kamose and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Morning, Abba.” She dropped into Kamose’s lap and snuggled against his chest.
“Abba?” Joshua laughed. “Oh, this just gets better and better.”
Kamose kissed Naomi’s head. “Yes, it does.”
16 Av
Seven days later, Tirzah knelt at the largest spring north of camp. A fresh breeze blew across the water and she lifted her face. Loose strands of hair blew around her shoulders. Instead of filling her water skins at the stream closer to their camp, today she had chosen to walk in the cooler air and had come all the way to the largest and most beautiful spring, the one where Kamose had first told her he loved her.
She plunged one bag beneath the water, holding it under as the liquid bubbled and gurgled until it filled the skin. She closed it up and laid it aside. As she reached for a second, a cloud of dust to the northwest caught her eye. Returning her attention to her task, she filled the second bag and started on the third, but glanced up several times as she did. The cloud grew larger, louder. She stood and shaded her eyes.
The ball materialized into individual men. They trudged toward camp.
Her chest constricted and she could barely breathe. The water bag slipped from her fingers.
Were they being attacked? Amalekites? Canaanites? The dread squeezed even tighter—the giants Gaddiel had warned them of?
She studied the figures. They weren’t big enough to be giants. They didn’t carry the long spears of the Amalekites. She glanced over her shoulder at the tents of Issachar and Dan. Women emerged, taking tentative steps toward the foreboding desert, gaping at the approaching men.
One woman put her hands to her face and bolted for the group. She screamed and then headed straight for one of the men and embraced him. Other women followed.
The stragglers were Israelites, the returning fighters who had defied Moses and attacked Canaan. They did not appear triumphant.
Tirzah grabbed her skins and ran for her tent. She nearly skidded into the fire pit. Thank Yahweh it had been banked. “They’re back.” She dropped the water bags and rested her hands on her knees, gasping for air.
Kamose’s face remained unresponsive, but Bezalel’s eyes widened. “How do they look?”
“They were quiet, walking slowly. I’m not sure.” She shrugged. “They didn’t look like the men who came back to their tents after the Amalekite battle.”
Kamose retrieved the skins from the ground. “I am sure Moses will call at least their leaders to the tabernacle gates.” He tossed the skins in their tent, kissed her cheek, and strode toward the center of camp.
A bedraggled and bloody group of men stood at the gates when Kamose, Bezalel, and Joshua arrived.
Kamose quickly surveyed the men. All were dirty, sweaty, exhausted, and most likely hungry and thirsty. At least half had removed their tunics to wrap spear wounds, or bind injured limbs and feet. The most seriously injured limped in as the rest waited, supported by others.
It was easy to see they had lost the fervor they had marched out with seven days ago, but Kamose’s experience told him they had lost faith in their leaders as well. There was no unity left.
Moses stepped out from the courtyard and waited for the leaders to speak.
Lamech spoke first, barely making eye contact. “They were waiting for us. As soon as we entered Canaan, they attacked. Men from Arad, other Canaanites, and Amalekites from even farther west. We tried our best, but there were too many of them, and they were obviously much more experienced in battle.” He grimaced as he held his left arm, bound in a blood-spattered sling.
“Did you all return?” Moses asked.
Most of the makeshift soldiers stared at the sand as Lamech spoke. “No. We left many bodies in the desert.”
Another added, “We had no chance to bury them. The enemy was still attacking us.”
Moses nodded.
Kamose spoke from behind Moses. “Did you leave any wounded behind?”
Lamech stared at Kamose, but would not answer.
Moses moved closer to Lamech. “Answer him.”
Lamech narrowed his eyes, and spoke to Moses. “Yes. I am afraid we did. As we got closer to camp, some of the most seriously injured could no longer keep up. Some broken bones, some deep wounds, some too weak to walk. And we had no more men able to help them, and no way to carry them.”
“So you just left them there?” Kamose had a hard time keeping himself from punching this so-called leader. Had Lamech been one of his commanders, Kamose would have thrown every conceivable punishment he had at him.
“Someone can go get them. They’re a couple days’ hike away.”
Kamose stepped up nose to nose with Lamech. “No. You can go get them. You left them.”
Lamech huffed. “Not likely.”
Kamose took several deep breaths while he convinced himself not to harm Lamech. “How many?”
Lamech stepped around Kamose, and again spoke to Moses. “I’m not sure. Ten. Fifteen.” He stared a moment at Moses, then walked away.
Kamose fisted his hands and suppressed a growl. He would never have left his men behind, not even one. What kind of leader did that? Lamech was no leader, that much was certain. He was barely a man.
Tirzah stared at the bowl of manna in her hand. Two weeks ago, life was wonderful. Kamose had made her his wife. She lived in Judah, with people who loved her, instead of judged her. Naomi was sleeping through the night, every night. The spies were due back with news of Canaan. And even though life would be hard with no land of their own, she looked forward to a new start in a new land.
Then the spies came back and everything changed. Gaddiel was dead. None of them—at least none of the adults—would see Canaan, which wasn’t what it seemed, anyway. And as much as spending her life with Kamose here in Kadesh didn’t seem so bad, it wasn’t the promise they’d left Egypt for.
And now this. A good portion of the camp defying Moses. Some even going off to fight, and coming back defeated. Was the next forty years going to be filled with constant conflict? She could accept Yahweh’s judgment. Her children would forge new lives in Canaan and that was enough for her. But she could not take decades of Israel striving with Yahweh.
She jumped at a hand on her arm.
“Tirzah? Are you all right?” Meri’s voice was soft and her eyes filled with compassion.
“I’m fine. Just worried. I don’t know what will happen next. I don’t like that feeling.”
Meri’s eyes twinkled. “Sometimes that’s when good things happen.”
Tirzah sighed. “Meri …”
“It’s true. The last time things were so uncertain, you ended up married to Kamose. You can’t tell me you aren’t happy with how that turned out.” She handed Tirzah a spoon. “Now eat. Ahmose and the girls are with Bezalel at the stream.”
Meri’s reasoning was infuriatingly difficult to argue with. And she refused to see anything but the bright side of a situation.
“Yes, you’re right.” Tirzah smiled, and Meri wandered off, leaving Tirzah alone with her dark thoughts again. She stuffed a spoonful of manna in her mouth and forced it down. She finished the rest and set the bowl aside.
Kamose’s hand touched her shoulder, instantly calming her.
“What happened?”
“As you thought, they were ambushed, defeated. As Moses predicted.” Kamose sat beside her and drew her to his side. “They lost over half their men. Left the most seriously wounded on the field.” He huffed. “Fools. They should have listened. They were unprepared. They didn’t have enough information, enough weapons, supplies, experience—they didn’t have enough of anything. And they were slaughtered.”
“Are they going back?” Tirzah asked.
“No. They’re ready to stay here. Things should calm down now.”
Tirzah let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. It was over.
The smoky aroma of burning wood from thousands of fires mingled with the sweet scent of manna and wafted through the camp. Kamose swallowed the last of his manna cake and washed it down with goat’s milk. He stretched his arms over his head and glanced at the sky. Hawks and falcons returned to their nests on the hills, screeching as they flew over camp.
Naomi crawled onto Kamose’s lap after the evening meal. He laid his cheek on her head, wrapped his arms around her. The air had cooled a bit, and Keren scampered off to play with Ahmose a little longer by the river, but Naomi chose to stay with Kamose. And he loved it.
Tirzah sat beside him, resting her head against his arm. Bezalel and Meri, along with Sheerah and Nahshon, sat around the fire as well.
“It’s getting darker much earlier now. I hope Ahmose doesn’t keep Keren out too long.” Tirzah gazed toward the palm trees.
“Will he keep her out, or will she keep him out?” Bezalel laughed.
“I think it’s a little of both,” said Meri.
“What’s a little of both?”
All heads turned at the new voice.
“Imma.” Bezalel jumped up and hugged his mother. “No babies right now?”
“No babies to deliver or new mothers to help. And I missed mine. Where is she?”
“Here.” Meri lifted her arms, baby Adi asleep within them.
Rebekah sat next to her and Meri slipped the baby into her arms. “Oh, I have missed her so much.” She placed kisses on the babe’s cheeks.
“Thanks,” said Bezalel as he reclaimed his seat.
Rebekah smiled. “You will always be my only son. You’re just not as cute anymore.”
Kamose chuckled. “My mother always ignored my brothers when they brought their children around, too.”
“And I’m sure my mother will do the same thing next spring.” Nahshon grinned broadly.
Meri squealed as she nearly pounced on Sheerah. “A baby?”
Sheerah’s face pinked as she nodded. She looked to Rebekah. “You’ll be here, won’t you? My mother isn’t here anymore.”
“Of course, habibti.” Rebekah reached to touch Sheerah’s arm and smiled reassuringly. She stroked Adi’s cheek. “We may be stuck here, but we are all safe and together. Everyone is home.”
The men left behind flashed through Kamose’s mind. Almost everyone.
“At least the fighting is over. Waiting is better than war.” Tirzah snuggled closer.
Meri nodded in agreement. “I’d rather be bored than scared.”
“I’m sure we’ll have plenty to keep us busy here,” Nahshon added.
Moses appeared at the fire, followed by Caleb and Joshua. “Kamose, I need to ask you something. Could you come with us?”
Kamose placed Naomi in Tirzah’s lap, then rose and fell in step with Joshua as they strolled away from the tents. “What do you need?”
“I think I’ll let Moses explain.” Caleb pointed to the older man.
Once out of earshot of their tent, Moses stopped and turned to Kamose. “I’d like to ask you to go with Caleb and Joshua, and some others, and bring back the wounded.”
Kamose took a slow, deep breath. “I am no longer a soldier.”
“You haven’t forgotten everything you know, have you?” Joshua chuckled dryly.
“No.” Kamose met Moses’s gaze. “I just married her. You want me to leave her?”
“You’ll be back.”
“You don’t know that. That’s why I never married as a soldier.”
“It shouldn’t be too dangerous,” said Joshua. “It will be clear we are only rescuing wounded. We’ll only carry daggers, no swords or spears. We go in, get them, get back.”
Kamose crossed his arms over his chest. “You can’t do this without me? Joshua and Caleb know the terrain. I don’t.”
Caleb touched his arm. “You know how to take care of the wounds. You can keep us out of sight as long as possible, and you know how to deal with the enemy if need be.”
“I’ll teach you.”
“You won’t come?” asked Joshua.
Kamose closed his eyes. “I cannot.” This is not my responsibility.
Joshua raised his hand, palm up. “But—”
Moses placed a hand on Joshua’s arm, quieting him. “This is our job, not his. He has already done enough for Israel.”
Kamose stared at his feet. The sound of sandaled footsteps faded away.
His stomach clenched; he balled his hands into fists. They shouldn’t have left wounded men there. They’d been there already—what did Lamech say? Two days? Three?
It wasn’t his job. Let someone younger do it. He’d fought enough wars.
It was someone else’s turn.
Seventeen
Only Tirzah remained at the fire when Kamose returned, his gait slower than usual, his countenance clouded.
She studied him. “What did they want?”
He shook his head. “It does not matter.”
He was keeping things from her. Important things. She didn’t like it. She fixed him with a stare she hoped told him she would not abide secrets. “Kamose, what did they want?”
He paused only a moment before answering. “They wanted me to go with a group of men to rescue the wounded.”
Icy fingers gripped Tirzah’s heart as her throat threatened to close. She wrapped her arms around her middle.
He smiled and caressed her cheek. “I am not going. I promised I wouldn’t leave you. I am staying with you.” He embraced her as he whispered in her ear. “That part of my life is over. I am your husband, not their soldier.”
The frozen fingers loosened their hold. The steady rise and fall of his chest calmed her and she breathed deeply. That Kamose was staying was reassuring, but for some reason the discomfort did not go away.
“I’m going to find Keren and Ahmose. It’s getting dark.” He strolled off in the direction of the palm trees by the river.
She smiled as he walked away. Yahweh had given her a husband, a father for her girls. He was a good man, not like Nathaniel. Not like Jediel.
Her stomach tightened. All little girls—and boys—deserved their fathers. And some of those fathers were stuck in the desert. Wounded. Unable to come home.
She frowned. But they disobeyed. It was their own fault. Why should she have to give up her husband because they were stupid? Moses ha
d told them not to go, told them they would be defeated, and they went anyway. It wasn’t her problem.
Thoughts raced through her mind, chasing one another around and around. She tried to shut them out, but they refused to stay away. She reached for the dishes from the evening meal. She scrubbed the pot with sand and wiped it clean, then washed the bowls. Then she cleaned them again.
Giggles drew her attention away from the task.
Kamose strolled up with Keren in his arms, Ahmose trotting along behind. He knelt and set the little girl down next to her sister. “Time to go to sleep.”
The girls kissed him on the cheek and slipped into the tent.
Tirzah crawled in after them. She pulled off their sandals, washed their faces with a wet cloth, then reached for the comb and pulled it through Keren’s hair. By the time she finished, Naomi had already fallen asleep.
Tirzah kissed Naomi’s peaceful face. Naomi hadn’t awakened once since Kamose had slept in the tent with them that first time, even though he didn’t marry her and live with them for another two weeks after that. Just spending time with him during the day seemed to be enough to bring something into her life she had apparently desperately needed.
How many little girls are crying for their abbas tonight?
Tirzah emerged from the tent and eased down onto the sand next to Kamose.
“Girls asleep?”
“Yes. Naomi went fast.”
Kamose chuckled.
“Kamose?”
“Hmmm?” He pulled her back against his chest and wrapped his arm around her waist.
“They left men out there?”
“Apparently. Ten or fifteen. The leader, if you can call him that, wasn’t sure.”
She suppressed a moan. “He wasn’t sure how many men he left behind?”
“I don’t think he knew how many he left with, so it would be impossible to know how many were killed or wounded. That’s why Egyptian armies are arranged as they are. Every commander knows exactly how many men he is responsible for.”
Tirzah’s stomach ached. How could she let him go?
By the Waters of Kadesh (Journey to Canaan) Page 18
