Gaddiel dropped onto a cushion. “Of course. Very prudent. But Joshua is the leader. And Caleb.”
“Caleb? Of Judah? Why is it always Judah?” Nathaniel’s mouth dropped and his voice rose in pitch as he offered Gaddiel a cup of cooled goat’s milk.
Not much took Nathaniel by surprise, but apparently even he hadn’t counted on this.
Gaddiel waved the cup off. “I know that Egyptian had something to do with it. I don’t trust him. And—hear this—he’s training us.”
“That’s insulting.” Nathaniel’s upper lip curled.
“I know.” Gaddiel pondered a while. “I’ve got to find a way to discredit Joshua. He has been Moses’s favorite for far too long. If we plan to be rulers once we reach Canaan, we have got to remove him from leadership, one way or another.”
“Agreed. Any ideas?”
Gaddiel rested his chin on his fist, his elbow on his knee. “I hoped you might have some. I’m too angry at the moment. Tirzah says to go along, find a chance to show them how smart I am.”
“Not a bad idea. She’s pretty clever herself.” Nathaniel stroked his well-trimmed, light brown beard. His light gray eyes, the same color as Gaddiel’s, twinkled. “She still hasn’t asked you to marry her?”
“No, and I don’t want her to. Women aren’t worth the trouble.”
Nathaniel grinned. “Just because you had a bad one …”
Gaddiel shoved his finger in his brother’s chest. “I’m glad she died. And the baby she carried. Saved me a life of pain.”
“I wish she would ask you, so you could refuse and it would fall to me.”
Gaddiel scoffed. “Like she would have you!”
Nathaniel spread his hands. “Why not? I’m as good as you. Maybe better.”
“It doesn’t appear she wants anyone.” Gaddiel shrugged. “Which is fine with me. I keep Jediel’s sheep, and she cooks my food, and I don’t have a nagging woman in my tent.”
“Maybe she’d have me if she knew you would say no.”
“Leave her alone. I like this arrangement. I’m older and I say leave it alone. You’re young. Find a bride of your own.”
20 Ziv
Kamose walked back and forth before the twelve men who stood before him. His gaze quickly took in each one. He’d already met them and taken account of each. Most were young, quick, and strong—just what they needed. Caleb was a bit older, and brought wisdom and an ability to handle the others. Then there was Gaddiel. He was surly, arrogant, and divisive.
Kamose faced the scouts. “You have three jobs: to learn about the men, the cities, and the land.
“One. What kind of men inhabit the land? Are they many or few? Are they farmers? Are they warriors? What kind of resistance will they give us? Yahweh has given us the land, but we must still take it.
“Two. What kind of cities are there? Are they walled, or guarded in some other way? How many are there? How far apart are they?
“And three. How is the land? Is it fertile? Will it support us? What kind of crops does it bear now? What kind of livestock will it support? Moses asks that you bring back samples of the fruit of the land on the return journey.
“The journey will be difficult. You will sleep in the open. If you are found out, you will likely be killed. Everything you do and see will be new to you. You must be on your guard at all times. Never be complacent. Never forget you are part of a team.”
He reached down to a pile of daggers, each with a belt and sheath, and passed them out as he talked.
“You’ve all fought out in the open, been in battle at Rephidim and at Sinai. Remaining unseen is altogether different. I’ll teach you. How well you learn determines whether you stay alive.”
He led the men to the first rise to the north of camp. “Most cities will be at the top of a hill since that’s the best way to defend against attack. If the city is fortified, the main part will be walled in, at the crest. The dwellings will be inside and the crops, animals, and anything else will be outside. Everything will be brought in at dusk and the gates shut. I know Hebron had walls the last time Egypt fought Canaan. I don’t know about anywhere else.”
“If it’s at the top of a hill, how can we possibly see anything without being discovered?” Palti asked.
“The land has many dips and rises. There will be places you can hide to view the city during the day. Then, at night, you can get closer to get more information. Now, you.” He gestured at four of them.
“Down on your bellies. Close your eyes.”
Gaddiel and three others dropped to the ground.
“Four more, go down on the other side of this ridge. Tell me if you see these men.”
Shammua, Gadi, Ammiel, and Geuel sprinted to the other side of the rise.
“Now, you four, crawl to the top, but keep your heads down.”
Gaddiel and the others crawled to the edge of the hillock.
Kamose strode to the top of the ridge and straddled it so he could see both sets of men. “When you reach the top, try to peek over to see the others without being seen.”
Palti poked his head over the top. “I see th—”
Shammua shouted. “I see him!”
“Palti, you’re dead. Out of line.”
Gaddiel looked at the other two.
Igal tried next. Same result.
“Igal. Out of line.”
Was anyone going to try anything different?
Gaddiel backed up a bit and crawled sideways until he was below a broom bush. He scooted up and raised his head behind the shrub. “I see Shammua, Gadi, Geuel, and Ammiel.”
No one beyond the rise called out.
Kamose nodded his approval. “Excellent, Gaddiel. You get to stay alive.”
25 Ziv
A dry wind blew through the leaves of the date palms. Tirzah leaned back against the trunk of one of them and watched the branches sway, the gentle movement vaguely soothing. She closed her eyes.
Moments later, the girls squealed with delight. “’Mose!”
Ahmose bounded over a log.
Meri followed him, carrying Adi wrapped in a blanket. She stepped over the fallen tree and settled in the sand next to Tirzah.
Tirzah drank the last of the sweet sheep’s milk in her cup and offered the skin to Meri, who smiled as she accepted it.
The girls splashed in the shallow river, closely guarded by Ahmose.
Tirzah held out her arms to take the baby.
Meri gave her the babe. As she stretched her arms, three vertical rows of blue-black dots peeked out from the bottom of her short sleeve, ending just above her elbow.
A tattoo? Why would Meri have a tattoo?
“What a lovely spot. It’s so much cooler here.” Meri finished her milk and returned the skin. She eyed Tirzah for a moment. “Can you explain what you meant when you said you are sometimes shunned because you have not remarried?”
Tirzah shifted her weight against the tree and recrossed her ankles. She couldn’t tell the girl everything. She’d never understand. “It’s just not very acceptable for a widow to remain alone. She’s expected to remarry again soon. So they see me as a troublemaker, a woman who chooses to flaunt generations of custom. I’m considered a rebellious woman.”
“Isn’t it hard being alone?”
Tirzah blew out a long breath. How to explain it? “To everyone else, my husband, Jediel, seemed kind and generous. But he was cruel. I hate to say it, but life has been much easier—and nicer—since he is gone.”
“So you didn’t know he was so cruel before you married him?”
“I didn’t know him at all.”
Meri blinked. “What do you mean? How could you choose him if you didn’t know him?”
“I didn’t choose him. Fathers arrange the marriages.”
“Why would your father choose such a man for you to marry?”
Tirzah played with Adi’s blanket, adjusting and readjusting it as she studied the mountains in the distance. “Jediel was very good at appearing kind to
others. Only in our own home was he so cruel. And to be fair, it was my stepfather, not my father who chose. I took care of my mother when she was ill, and by the time she died, I was older than most brides. And I am taller than men usually prefer their women. So he married me off to the first one who paid the bride price.”
Meri gaped at Tirzah with her mouth open, eyes as wide as pomegranates.
Tirzah touched Meri’s arm. “It’s not as bad as I’ve made it sound. Almost all fathers give their daughters a say. Many girls marry the one they love. I just didn’t have a father who cared.”
Meri let the silence sit for a moment. “Why didn’t you leave him?”
Tirzah furrowed her brow. “Leave him?”
“Yes. Divorce him.”
“Wives can’t divorce.”
“They can’t?” Meri grasped Tirzah’s hand. “Tirzah, I am so sorry.”
Tirzah smiled. “Thank you.”
Naomi skipped up with a handful of purple flowers. “For you, Imma.” She pulled a few out and gave them to Meri. “You, too.”
Meri watched Naomi run away. “Your girls are beautiful, Tirzah.”
“I don’t know what I’d do without them.” She closed her eyes and sniffed the flowers. Time to change the subject. “How did you end up working in the palace?”
Meri fingered the blooms. “Like yours, my mother died, but I was much younger. When she was alive, we were very happy. I adored her. But after she died, there were too many of us. My father couldn’t manage. He couldn’t take care of the farm and all of us. One year, the grain taxes were due. We went to the temple, and a priest came and talked to him. I was told I was to go work in the palace. When I arrived, I found out I had been sold into the harem to pay for five years’ taxes.”
“Oh, Meri, that’s terrible!” Tirzah touched the dots on Meri’s arm. “Is that what this means?”
Meri fingered the tattoo. “Yes. The mark of a concubine.” Her face paled for only a moment. “It was a terrifying time. But to skip to the end, that’s where I met Bezalel. He had been brought to the palace and forced to live there as a child. That’s where he learned to make such beautiful works of art, and where he learned everything he needed to know to craft the tabernacle. I escaped with him, we married in Elim, and now we have this beautiful baby.”
“I wish my story could have such a happy ending, but I don’t see how it can. Anyway, now I am all alone, with these two little girls. They are exhausting, but they are the lights of my life. I thank Yahweh every day for them. I may have nothing else, but at least I have them.”
Meri shifted to face her more directly and grabbed her hand. “I don’t think this is the end of your story. I’ve seen Yahweh change too many people’s lives to think that. I thought my life was over when I found myself in the harem. I was alone. No one there would even talk to me. But I found Bezalel. Bezalel spent his life in the palace away from his family, his people. He felt abandoned by Yahweh, but Yahweh had a plan all along. He had been chosen to build a dwelling for Yahweh, and Yahweh had just been preparing him. You can’t say it’s over already. I think you have a lot to look forward to.”
Tirzah pulled her hand away and shook her head. “Not me. This is all there is to my life. There will never be any more. Maybe there was for you. Maybe for Bezalel. Not for me. Not now. Not ever.”
28 Ziv
Kamose called for the evening meal break and reached into his bag for the manna cakes he brought with him.
He looked over the group of scouts before him. They were not professional soldiers, but they would have to do. If he could just get enough information into them to keep them alive, he’d be satisfied. They didn’t have to learn too many intricate espionage skills to bring back the knowledge Moses had requested. Anyone with a bit of common sense could find out whether the land was arable, the cities were fortified, and the people were armed. And Caleb and Joshua were more than capable of finding out far more than that. No, all he was worried about was whether or not they could keep their heads down and not be seen.
Kamose had not fought in Canaan himself. Those wars had ended before he was born. The most famous battle was fought on the very ground they now camped on. But the legends endured. Legends of giants. Cities with walls that climbed into the sky. Iron chariots. Weapons never before seen. He could only pray to Yahweh for safety.
He noticed the wives bringing dinner to their husbands. The sweet kisses and whispered endearments before they returned to their tents.
Then there was Gaddiel. He snatched the bag from the woman with the beautiful, wavy brown hair and the girls who clung to her. He barely acknowledged her, let alone kissed her. She glanced at the desert floor as he snapped at her, then turned to go. Kamose stared a beat longer than he should have at another man’s wife, and then he diverted his gaze, pulling it to the cliffs past the rolling hills at the edge of camp. They’d spent today working on climbing the steep limestone bluff west of camp. A lifetime on a delta did not prepare one for rock climbing.
One more run at the cliffs tonight, and training would be complete. Kamose had done everything he could in ten days. Tomorrow the scouts would leave for Canaan. He could only hope he had taught them enough to keep them alive, to bring them all back to the wives and children they were leaving behind. He’d seen enough soldiers leave and never come back.
He didn’t want it to happen here.
Four
29 Ziv
After ten days of training, except for one Sabbath’s rest, Gaddiel’s muscles screamed. Even the backbreaking work of the brickfields and unending days of marching had not strengthened his body enough for what Kamose had put the would-be scouts through. Long mornings of physical training, hot afternoons learning strategy, and barely cooler evenings climbing the cliff walls to the west.
Kamose had better know what he was talking about. He bragged often enough about his exploits as a great Egyptian soldier. Gaddiel was sick of hearing about it. The man never let up. Never seemed to break a sweat, either. Just constantly barked orders as if they were soldiers in his private army.
The former commander strutted before them, the jeweled gold armbands on his biceps glistening in the sun. Did he not realize he was no longer captain of the guard? He didn’t need to keep wearing the symbols of his previous office. He could put a tunic on, too, instead of walking around wearing only that shenti tied around his waist. If he wanted to dress like that, he should have stayed in Egypt.
“If you remember everything I taught you, you will live, and bring back the information you need to successfully conquer Canaan.”
Could that man take any more of the credit for himself?
“The first town you will encounter is Arad. The next is Hebron, an ancient city, older than most in Egypt, and probably walled. After that, it is unknown. Moses wants you to go as far north as possible. Caleb will lead the mission, and Joshua will be his second-in-command.”
Joshua. Kamose probably had a hand in that decision as well. Joshua was his friend. They shared a tent. Kamose would want him to have the glory since Kamose couldn’t grab it for himself.
Well, Gaddiel wouldn’t let that happen.
The gray light of dusk clung to the sandy floor. Twelve families huddled at the edge of the desert north of camp. Gaddiel watched the other spies kiss their wives and hug their children. Tears flowed as husbands consoled their wives and promised a quick and safe return.
Not Gaddiel. He stood apart from the rest, pack already on his back, anxious to get underway. He had no time to waste on sentiment.
Tirzah approached, carrying a bag of food and skins, probably milk and water. As usual, one of the girls skipped around, but the other buried her face in her mother’s shoulder and never raised her head to look at him. Tirzah needed to stop coddling that child.
“Why don’t you make her walk? She’s not a baby anymore.” Gaddiel snatched the offering from her hand. “And you’re late. We are about to leave.”
She dropped her gaze and studie
d her sandals.
The wives pulled away from the men and returned to camp.
Gaddiel opened his bag. He expected to find manna cakes, but Tirzah had also added several handfuls of dates. It looked like she had given him her portion of tonight’s manna as well. He tossed her a glance as she headed toward the tents, trailing far behind the other families. She knew he despised her, and he knew she felt nothing for him either. Why the extra effort? He shrugged and slipped the bags into his pack.
Off to the side, Moses waited with Kamose. The officer stood as if he were in charge, feet apart, hands folded over his chest, watching every move the spies made. When would he learn he wasn’t a soldier anymore?
Caleb took the first step. He got about five strides ahead before Gaddiel decided he would be next. He couldn’t let Joshua be second. Gaddiel stepped out into the desert.
It had begun.
Moses’s strong voice startled Kamose.
Kamose pulled his stare away from the cliffs. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you.”
“I said you’re going to kill that bush if you don’t keep at least some of the leaves on it.” Moses nodded toward the pile of shredded green at Kamose’s feet.
Kamose grimaced, and dropped the tattered leaf in his hands. He slapped his hands across one another to clean them.
“You want to be out there with them, don’t you?”
“What makes you say that?”
The older man studied Kamose’s face. “You seem … restless.”
Kamose blew out a frustrated breath. “The training is complete, and I don’t know what to do next. It’s an odd feeling.”
Moses strolled through camp, beckoning Kamose to follow. They were silent for quite some time, until Moses spoke. “In many ways, you are like me. Or like I was at your age.”
Kamose glanced sideways. “How is that? You were a prince. I am—was—but a soldier.”
“Yes, I was a prince. I had the best of everything. Excellent tutors, the finest food, the softest linen tunics, servants for my every wish, more gold than I could wear. Ramses and I competed in every way possible. He was always jealous of me, although I was never quite sure why. He was the crown prince, and I was an adopted cousin, at most. There was nothing to envy.”
By the Waters of Kadesh (Journey to Canaan Book 2) Page 4
