“This is Danzia,” Othniel said hurriedly. “She’s a friend of Carphina.”
“There’s just four of us,” Danzia said with an inviting smile. “Just the right number for a party. We’re late, but we can start in, Ardon.” She pressed against him and ran her hand across his cheek.
Ardon pushed her away disdainfully. It was not a hard push, but it was insulting.
The woman stared at him for a moment, her eyes burning. “You think you’re too good for me?”
Ignoring the woman, Ardon turned and said, “Othniel, we’re leaving.”
“Too good for me!” the woman called Danzia shrilled in a piercing voice. “I heard about you. Othniel said you’re so good that you wouldn’t eat an egg laid on the Sabbath. A holy man.”
“Close your mouth,” Ardon said sternly without even turning to face her. He took a step forward and said, “Othniel, you’re going one way or another.” He heard the woman leave the tent shouting curses at him, but his eyes were fixed on Othniel. “Get up!”
“Wait a minute, Ardon, I’m not ready to go yet.”
Ardon stared down at the young man with whom he had been so close for so many years. Bitterness rose in him, and he shook his head, a painful expression on his face. “Don’t you have any shame?” he demanded, his voice cutting like a blade. “My father’s given you everything. He’s treated you like his own son, and what’s the thanks you show him? You make our name a disgrace in Israel….”
Othniel dropped his head and hunched his shoulders. It was almost as if he were receiving physical blows. Ardon continued to lash at him with his words.
Finally Othniel shook the woman’s hand away from his arm and muttered, “All right, all right, I’m coming. You don’t have to make such a bad thing out of it.”
“It is a bad thing,” Ardon said grimly. He gave one disdainful look at the woman and said, “You have a husband. That should be enough for you.”
Ignoring Carphina’s curses, Ardon waited for Othniel, who grabbed his cloak, slipped on his sandals, and then shamefacedly crept out the door of the tent.
As soon as they stepped outside, Ardon became cautious. The woman he had rejected was there with three men, big fighting men.
“That’s the one. He said I wasn’t good enough for him and he hit me.”
“Nobody hit you,” Ardon said, not taking his eyes from the three men. “We’re leaving.”
The three burly men all carried knives in their belts, and one of them had a club in his hand. He, apparently, was the oldest, and he scowled. “You’re not going anywhere, fellow. You can’t treat our sister like a whore.”
“Back off,” Ardon said. He had a knife in his belt, but he did not want to enter into a knife fight with three sturdy warriors. He started toward them, hoping to break their concentration, but as he did, the one with the club raised it and struck at him. Ardon’s reactions were swift. He ducked his head so that the club went over it, and when the man grunted with the force of his blow, Ardon struck him a hard blow right where the neck joins the head. With a muted cry, the man sprawled on the ground. Ardon scooped up the club. He held it securely and turned to face the other two. They had separated now and were coming at him from different angles. One of them had drawn a knife.
“Put that knife away,” Ardon demanded. He had a hard time keeping his eyes on both men. Suddenly Othniel yelled and threw himself on the one who had not yet drawn his knife. Out of the corner of his eye, Ardon saw the two of them go down kicking and fighting. He knew that Othniel had little experience in this kind of fight, but at least he kept the fellow occupied. Ardon faced the knife bearer and advanced toward him, holding the glittering blade before him like an experienced fighter. He sneered, “You’re going to regret this when you wake up in the morning.”
The Danite lunged forward, but he was muscular and slow-moving. With one quick swipe of the club, Ardon struck his wrist. The man bellowed with pain, and with another swipe the club hit him in the side of the head and he dropped to the earth like a felled ox. Ardon swung around to see that the third brother had knocked Othniel out, falling down himself in the process. The brother was getting to his feet, but before he could rise, Ardon swung the club again. He did not strike to kill, for he was well aware that Israel needed all of her soldiers, especially tough ones like this. The club made a dull sound like striking a melon, and the third brother rolled his eyes up and sank back to the ground.
The woman named Danzia stared at her brothers, let out a screech, and threw herself at Ardon. She was mindless with rage, and not wanting to hurt her, Ardon simply grasped her by the back of the arm and shoved her hard enough to send her sprawling on the ground. “You do that again and you’ll be sorry,” he said. He watched for a moment, but as the woman got up, her face pale with fury, he went over and grabbed Othniel, whose eyes were open, staring blankly. Ardon yanked him to his feet and said, “We’ve had enough fun for one day.”
As the two made their way back toward where the tribe of Judah was set up, Othniel walked with his head down. From time to time he would glance at Ardon, but not having words to excuse himself, he kept silent all the way to Caleb’s tent.
Ariel was outside stirring some food in a pot over an open fire. She stood right up and stared at the pair. “Well, you found the wandering lamb, I see.”
“He’s not a lamb.” Ardon shook his head. “Lambs have more sense.”
“What have you been into, Othniel?” Ariel demanded.
His face flamed and she stared at him hard. “It must be bad if you can’t talk about it.”
“Go on in. My father’s waiting to talk to you,” Ardon commanded.
The pair watched as Othniel slunk inside the tent, and soon they heard Caleb’s voice, angry and harsh.
“What’d he do, Ardon?” Ariel asked.
“What he always does. Only this time it was even worse. He was in Carphina’s tent.”
“Why, she’s nothing but a harlot!”
“Pretty much so. I’m surprised her husband hasn’t beaten her to death before this.”
“Father is so hurt by this,” Ariel said. “He always loved Othniel’s father, and he’s poured himself out on Othniel. Why can’t that idiot act like a human being?”
“He’s got a bad strain in him from somewhere. Maybe from his mother. I don’t know. In any case, we had to wrestle with some fighting men to get out of there, and Othniel didn’t last ten seconds. He’s not going to make much of a soldier. I’m leaving. I don’t want to have to look at him anymore.”
Ariel watched her brother go, then returned to the pot. She listened to Caleb’s angry words to Othniel. When the young man finally stumbled out of the tent, she said, “Well, I hear you had a romance, cousin.”
“Don’t you start on me, Ariel,” Othniel said. His face was pale, and he turned to leave.
But Ariel jumped up and blocked his path, saying, “Tell me about it. I’ll bet it was a romantic affair. Did you sing love songs to her? I hear she’s a real beauty, that woman is. A woman of virtue.”
Othniel didn’t move but just ground his teeth while Ariel mocked him. When he could stand it no longer, he turned and ran away. Ariel called after him, loud enough for everyone to hear, “Here he is—the great lover, the seducer of married women.”
Laughter followed Othniel, and he heard catcalls and jeers from the women who had stopped their work to watch him.
As soon as Othniel disappeared, Ariel went inside the tent. She found her father seated on a rug, staring at the sword that was before him. He had evidently been sharpening it, and she went and stood over him. “I heard what you said to Othniel. You were pretty hard on him.”
“Not as hard as I should have been. We’re going into bat- tle very soon. What kind of a soldier will he make? He’s a weakling.”
Ariel knelt down and put her hand on her father’s shoulder. “I know you have a great affection for him.”
“I used to, but I’m fast losing it. What a terrible mess he’
s made of his life.” He shook his head sadly. “Why are some men strong and others weak?”
“No one knows the answer to that except God. You’re not going to give up on him, are you?”
“I can’t do that. Israel needs every soldier she can get. Besides, at times I see some of my brother Kenaz in him. He was a good man, and there’s got to be some of that goodness in his son. But I may have to half kill him to bring it out.”
****
Achan saw with one glance that his young friend Othniel was miserable. “You look like you just fell into a well full of scorpions. What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.”
Achan was eating from a bunch of dried grapes. He stuffed his mouth full and studied Othniel. He had become very fond of this young man, feeling almost like an older brother to him. The two of them liked their pleasure, and though Achan had a family, he still enjoyed the company of the younger man.
Achan’s four children swarmed around him. They were very fond of Othniel too and pestered him all at the same time to take them to the river. Another wanted him to play a game with them. Achan watched and said, “You know how to win the hearts of children—” he hesitated—“and women also. Is that the problem?”
“I’m a fool, Achan.” Achan listened as Othniel began to talk. The words tumbled from his lips, and his face grew red.
“Why do I do things like that, Achan? She’s a married woman and no good. If her husband had caught us, he would have killed me. He may come after me anyway. Everybody knew what was happening.”
“He wouldn’t dare attack the nephew of our great leader Caleb, but I expect you’d better stay away from him.”
“When a man’s angry enough and when he’s been wronged, he’ll do anything.”
“Well, the thing to do,” Achan said, “is not to let the whole world know what you’re doing. If you want a woman, just be sure you don’t let anyone know about it. A lot of that goes on in the camp.”
“Not with Caleb and Joshua. And Ardon, he’s so holy he wouldn’t think of touching a woman.”
Achan munched on the dried grapes thoughtfully, then shook his head. “Ardon’s just like the rest of us. We’re all sinners. I am, you are, and Ardon is. He just hasn’t found out about it yet.”
Othniel laughed bitterly. “You’re a scoundrel, Achan.”
“Not really. I’m just weak. Nothing wrong with being weak. Even Moses is weak.”
Othniel stared at Achan. “What do you mean by that?”
“He isn’t a perfect man, and we know a few things he did that were wrong. He admitted it. You’ve heard it. When he struck the rock instead of speaking to it, he said God didn’t like that, so He’s not going to let Moses go into the Promised Land. You see? He’s weak.”
Othniel found something wrong with the reasoning, but he was so depressed he did not care to argue. “We’re going across the Jordan pretty soon—as soon as Moses leaves. That’s what I hear.”
“I can’t wait to get there. Just think of all the spoil we’ll get. Silver, gold, precious stones.” Achan’s eyes gleamed, and he winked lewdly. “And, of course, there will be women available.”
“You’d better not let Joshua catch you at anything like that.”
“Don’t worry,” Achan said. “He won’t catch me. I’m a sly fellow. No one can catch me when I set out to do a thing!”
Chapter 7
As Othniel made his way back toward camp after hunting, his attention was caught by a cloud of blackbirds over to his right that wheeled up and away into the distance. He watched them until they became tiny dots, and as he did, he was aware of the song of a bird. He stood very still, searching the desert before him. A tiny bird appeared. It was a color of blue he had never seen before. Othniel thought quietly, What have you got to be so happy about? You’ve got enemies all around you, including me. You may not live to see the sunset. Still, the incantation of the small bird sweetly filled the space that Othniel shared with him.
Othniel laughed aloud at his own foolishness. “Why do I think these things?” he said. “People would think I was crazy if I told them about it.” He continued on past the tiny stream that fed the camp. The sunlight was fine and fresh, flashing against the distant mountains, and the smell of woodsmoke and cooking food laced the thin air. He hurried faster, for he was hungry. In one hand he carried a bow, and a quiver of arrows was across his back. In his other hand he bore the carcass of a small deer-like creature whose name he did not know. His luck had been good in his early-morning hunting. As the camp came into sight, he broke into a run. He loved the morning, and he ran as hard as he could, although somewhat awkwardly because of the deer and the bow. But there was a joy in it for him.
He needed some joy in his life, for ever since Ardon had caught him with Carphina, he had been depressed. Caleb’s words had seared him, bringing him a sense of shame he had never known before. That had been three days ago, and he had behaved himself marvelously well since then. He knew it would take more than three days, however, to convince Caleb and Ardon, and even Ariel, that he was sorry for his misdeed.
Slowing down, he walked past the outlying tents, speaking occasionally to those who greeted him. He was a popular young fellow, well liked for his good singing voice and for his cheerful disposition. The soldiers had less respect for him, however, for although he was a competent enough archer, he did not give himself to the discipline that was required to make a tough warrior.
Weaving a serpentine path between the tents, he came up behind Caleb’s tent, but hearing voices, he stopped before stepping around to the front. He recognized them as Ariel and her suitor, young Zuriel. He hesitated, then peered around the corner of the tent. The pair of them, he saw, were facing each other, and evidently Zuriel was upset. Othniel saw that Ariel was tormenting the young man, as she usually did. He had discovered long ago that she was very good at such things, and he himself had often been the target of her caustic tongue. Zuriel was pleading with her.
“I don’t know why you won’t become my wife right away, Ariel. I’d be a good husband to you.”
“Would you really, Zuriel? What would you do to be so good?”
Othniel grinned at the question, knowing that Zuriel would have no answer for it, and he was right.
“Why, I’d see to it that you had plenty of food, clothes to wear …” Zuriel bogged down, unable to add to the list.
“But I have all those things now, Zuriel.”
Once again Othniel grinned. Don’t try to match wits with her. You don’t have the mind for it, Zuriel.
The argument went on for some time, and Othniel was not surprised that Zuriel got the worst of it. As he pleaded more and more pathetically, Ariel took mercy on him and sent him away. “I don’t want to talk about it now. I’ll talk later,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders.
Othniel watched the young man as he trudged away, his shoulders stooped and his head down. Stepping out from behind the tent, he approached silently, leaned forward, and whispered, “You’re going to lose your man if you treat him like that.”
Startled, Ariel leaped to one side and whirled about. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”
Ignoring her anger, Othniel held up the small deer he was carrying. “I brought you a present.”
“Well, why don’t you dress it out before you bring it to me?”
Othniel liked fire in a woman, but sometimes he thought Ariel had a bit too much. “I’m sorry, Queen Ariel. I didn’t realize I was doing something wrong.”
“You didn’t bring it to me. You brought it to my father. You’re trying to make up to him for making such a fool out of yourself.”
Ariel was too close to the truth for comfort. Othniel shook his head and changed the subject back again to Zuriel. “You don’t need Zuriel for a husband,” he said.
“What do you know about it?”
“He’s not romantic, and you are.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know what I’
m talking about. You want a fellow who will do daring deeds and will sing love songs for you and tell you how beautiful you are. Zuriel will tell you how many sheep he has, but he’ll never do those things.”
“And you would, I suppose?”
“Oh, most definitely. As a matter of fact, I’ll do it right now.” He dropped the deer, fell on his knees, and spread his hands out. He sang a comical love song he had invented a short time before. As he got up, he saw that she was laughing.
“You’re a fool,” she said.
“Oh yes, but a romantic fool. You need …” He leaned forward—so close he could see the tiny golden flecks in her eyes—and whispered, “You need a man who will make you feel like a woman.”
“I do feel like a woman!”
“You need a man who will do…this.” He pulled her close and kissed her squarely on the lips.
Ariel was taken off guard. He was strong enough to hold her for a moment, but then she pushed him away and shook her head with disgust. “Go on back to your loose women. I’d more happily marry a lizard than you!”
“You may think so, but you’ve always been in love with me. I knew it when we were twelve years old.”
Ariel could not help laughing. “Well, you certainly have confidence. I like that in a man, but yours is all misplaced. Go find yourself a woman who has nothing to offer but herself.”
“What else can a woman give but herself?”
“Go away, Othniel. I’m tired of listening to you.” She turned and walked away, and he called after her. “I’ll clean the deer for you. You can think about me when you eat it.”
****
For years Moses had worked constantly to write the book that would be the guide for Israel. He was now at the end of his life, but with death at hand, his heart was burdened. He well knew that the people of Israel were prone to doubt the living God who had brought them out of Egypt. And now as he sat writing out the last few words of his testament, God guided his hand with prophetic insight.
Moses’ hand trembled as he wrote the words.
Daughter of Deliverance Page 6
