The Warrior: Caleb

by Francine Rivers

  “In Egypt, you never knew from one day to the next if you would have bread to eat!”

  Jerahmeel turned to the others. “We should go back to Egypt. They fear us. Even the gods fear us. We can fashion gods and show that we have returned as brothers.”

  Caleb sneered. “Return to gods who had no power to protect themselves?”

  “And what good is this god doing for us now? We sit and wait. Weeks we have waited. Are we to live the rest of our lives at the base of this mountain?”

  “Go then, and see how far you get without His protection.”

  “We won’t be going alone, Caleb. Everywhere I turn, others are saying the same thing I am saying. Even that old man you follow around, Zimri, has gone with others to speak to Aaron.”

  “And what does Aaron say?”

  “At first he said to wait. Now he says nothing.”

  Caleb went outside. He couldn’t abide the air inside the tent any longer. He looked up at the mountain. Nothing had changed. The cloud remained, surges of light flashing from within. Why would God kill Moses? What sense did that make? And yet, if the old man hadn’t died, why did he linger up there? And where was Joshua?

  He clenched his fist. “I will not believe You brought us out here only to abandon us. I won’t believe it.”

  “Kelubai?”

  Azubah stood at the doorway. She came to him hesitantly, her gaze troubled. “Why are you so determined to believe in this God?”

  “What is the alternative?”

  “Return to Egypt.”

  “Yes, and I would rather my sons die here than go back to that place of death.”

  “It will be different this time, Kelubai.”

  “Woman, you speak of things you do not understand.”

  Her chin jutted. “Ah, yes, as you understand this God. As you understand why we must remain here, day after day, waiting for no one knows what.”

  “You would do better to listen to me rather than my brother.”

  “I listen to you, but you would do better to listen to your father.” She went back into the tent.

  Frustrated, Caleb walked away into the night. How he longed to climb that mountain and find out for himself what had happened to Moses. But there was a boundary set; the mountain was sacred ground. He would not set foot upon it.

  Wandering among the clustered camps, Caleb heard others talking. Jerahmeel had spoken the truth. He was not the only man counseling a return to Egypt. It was near dawn when he returned to his tent, exhausted and disheartened, and went to bed.

  Azubah awakened him. “Messengers came through camp, my husband. Aaron has called for the men to bring him a pair of gold earrings from each wife, son, and daughter.” She had already collected the earrings in a cloth.

  “What for?”

  “Does it matter? Your father and brothers wait outside.”

  “Hurry!” Jerahmeel appeared at the entrance to the tent. “Baskets are set outside Aaron’s tent, and they are overflowing with gold earrings. Some put in necklaces and bracelets.”

  “Give whatever you want.” Angry, Caleb turned over on his pallet. He was too tired and despondent to care why Aaron had asked for gold.

  He found out soon enough. Word spread. All were to come and worship before the Lord. Caleb went eagerly, his family with him. Shocked, he found himself standing before a golden calf much like those he had seen in Egypt. This one was far from the svelte beasts set upon pedestals in Egypt. “Where did it come from?”

  “Aaron made it for us.”

  “Aaron?” He couldn’t believe Moses’ brother would make such a thing. But there he was, standing before the gathering, presiding over it, calling for offerings to the God who had brought them out of Egypt.

  This cannot be! Confused, Caleb drew back.

  The people bowed down and presented offerings. Azubah and Caleb’s sons, his brothers and father went forward. No one trembled and shook before this god. Instead, they rose up to laugh and dance and celebrate. Aaron proclaimed a feast. Caleb didn’t know what to do. Sick and confused, he returned to his tent.

  Music filled the camp. Then shrieking and laughter. Azubah came in and lay down beside him, her eyes dark. She smelled of incense and tasted of wine. “This is better, isn’t it?” She moved over him, wanton, eager.

  Caleb caught his breath. Maybe it was better not to think about a God he couldn’t understand. But, somehow, this didn’t feel right. He wanted to push her away, but she kissed him. His senses swam. She was his wife, after all. Surely, there was nothing wrong in this. Maybe it was better not to trouble himself with inexplicable feelings of shame and guilt. “Azubah . . .”

  “Love me.”

  Why should he feel guilty? Maybe it was better to live and not think at all. God, God. No. He would not think of God right now. Not now. Grasping Azubah’s flowing hair, he took what she offered, surrendering himself to the fire in his belly. Passion rose, crested, and evaporated, leaving in its wake a sense of shame and bewilderment. Caleb lay in the darkness, with Azubah, sated, asleep beside him. Never had he felt so unclean.

  The camp was in an uproar. “What’s going on now?” His wife slept on, the effects of the wine deadening her to sound and light. She would have a headache when she awakened. Caleb dressed and went outside.

  Moses had returned! He strode through the camp, shouting.

  “He destroyed the stone tablets!”

  Caleb caught hold of a man running away. “What stone tablets?”

  “The ones on which God wrote the laws we were to follow!”

  Caleb ran toward the screaming. Moses climbed onto the platform and pushed the calf off its stand. “Burn it.” His face was red, his eyes filled with wrath. “Grind it into powder. Spread it over the drinking water.”

  The people were out of control, some drunk and unwilling to give up their pleasure taking, others screaming defiance.

  Caleb felt the gathering storm. Aaron was running. He shouted, and others from his tribe of Levi raced to stand behind Moses. Some had swords and drew them.

  With sudden understanding, Caleb cried out. He saw his sons among the crowd gathering against Moses.

  “Mesha! Mareshah! Jesher! Come out from among those people. Shobab! Ardon! Come to me. Hurry!” His sons wove their way through the crowd, eyes wide. He ran to meet them, grabbed them, and dove to the ground. When they cried out in panic and tried to rise and run, he yanked them down. “Bow down before the Lord. Bow down!”

  Screams of rage and death came all around him. Someone stepped over him. Metal struck metal, words exchanged, a gurgling cry, a thud. His heart pounded. Reason kept him on his face. “Forgive us, Lord. Forgive us. God, forgive us.”

  If this was Moses’ fury vented, what could God in His wrath do?

  When a man fell dead beside them, Ardon screamed and tried to rise. Caleb yanked him down again, sliding half over him to hold him to the ground. “Mercy, Lord! Mercy!” His sons sobbed in terror. “Pray for forgiveness! Pray!” Caleb ordered them.

  “God, forgive us . . .”

  “God, forgive . . .”

  Would the Lord hear such soft cries amidst the chaos of terror surging all around them?

  The battle was soon over. Sobs and wailing rose.

  Jerahmeel lay dead near his tent. So, too, another brother. Their wives lay dead nearby. Hezron sat at the opening of his tent, rocking back and forth, face ashen, his garments torn in grieving. When Azubah came outside, bleary-eyed, and saw what had happened, she wailed and threw dust into the air. Silent, Caleb commanded his sons to help him carry the bodies outside the camp for burial.

  Would his family blame him for the deaths? Would they cry out against him because he had fought so hard to come with the Israelites and follow after their God? Would they want to turn back now?

  When he returned to his tent, he found everyone silent. No one looked at him, not even his wife and sons. “You blame me for their deaths, don’t you?”

  “We should have turned back when
we had the chance.”

  “Turned back to what, Father? Slavery?”

  “My sons are dead!”

  My brothers, Caleb wanted to add, but he hunkered down and spoke gently. “We must give honor only to the God who delivered us.”

  “Should we not have choice in which god we worship?”

  He looked at Azubah. “Will my own wife turn against me? Not one, not all of the gods of Egypt could stand against the Lord God of Israel.” She disgusted him. He disgusted himself.

  “Aaron made the golden calf and Aaron still lives.”

  “Yes, Father, because he ran to Moses when asked where he stood. Had my brothers bowed down before the Lord, they would still be alive. But instead, they chose to defy God and Moses. They chose death over life.”

  The old man sobbed.

  Mourning deeply, Caleb removed his jewelry. As he lifted an amulet from his neck, he looked at it and went cold. Why had he not noticed it was the Star of Rompha? He wore the cobra Ra on his arm, a lapis scarab set in solid gold on his finger. Shuddering, he yanked off every piece of jewelry he wore. “Take off everything that honors another god.” They did as he said, casting off gifts the Egyptians had poured upon them. “It’s a wonder we aren’t all dead!”

  Moses had chiseled out two more stone tablets and gone back up the mountain to plead with God on the people’s behalf. When he returned, his face shone like the sun. Until he covered his face with a veil, no one had courage enough to go near him, not even his brother, Aaron. Moses had not returned empty-handed; he brought back the Law written by God’s hand upon the tablets, and plans for a tabernacle and holy items including an ark to contain the Law. God had chosen two men for the task of building the Tabernacle: Bezalel and Oholiab. Offerings were needed for the construction, and the people responded. Had not God provided what was needed by the gifts the Egyptians had given the Israelites? The people merely gave back a portion of what God had already given them.

  Caleb gave the best of what he had.

  “Enough!” Moses’ servants said. “We have enough!”

  Everyone worked. Even Azubah. She joined other women of the family and wove fine cloth. Caleb’s remaining brothers helped keep the fires burning so the gold and bronze could be melted. Caleb worked hard, honored to be assigned any task alongside the sons of Judah. But he knew alliances weakened under stress. He had to find another way to be grafted in among these people.

  Young women wore mourning clothes. Many had lost fathers and brothers on the day of God’s retribution for the golden idol. Caleb saw in them a way to solidify his family’s connection to the tribe of Judah.

  He approached his father and brothers. “We must strengthen our alliance with Judah.”

  “How?” Kenaz spoke with willingness.

  “Take wives from among the sons of Judah.”

  Caleb took a second wife, Jerioth. His father and Kenaz followed his lead, as did the others over the next months.

  Each morning, Caleb listened eagerly to the laws God had given Moses. He wanted to please the God of heaven and earth. Though the task of following the numerous laws was daunting, he felt hedged in from all sides, safe under the watchful eye of God.

  Know my heart, Lord. Know that I desire to please You.

  When the Tabernacle and holy items were ready, Caleb stood amidst the multitude, shoulder to shoulder for the dedication ceremonies, praying that God would be pleased with their work. He did not hold a place in the front, so he had to stretch up to see, and strain to hear what was said. Giving up, he kept his gaze fixed upon the cloud. When it moved, his heart fluttered and then pounded. In awe, he drew in his breath and held it. When the cloud came down and filled the tabernacle, there was weeping in joy. Caleb shouted praise to God.

  The joy was short-lived.

  “Aaron’s sons are dead!” People shouted and wept. Some ran.

  “What happened?”

  “They were consumed by fire!”

  “Why?”

  Caleb heard later that they had scorned the law of the Lord and offered incense in a manner other than that which God commanded. Fear gripped Caleb. If God would kill Aaron’s sons, He would not tolerate sin among any of His people. Caleb was afraid to turn to the left or right of what the Lord commanded.

  Zimri represented Judah among the seventy elders instructing the sons of Judah. Whenever the old man sat to teach the laws Moses had received from the Lord, Caleb was there, listening more intently than the younger men who gathered.

  As the people moved toward the Promised Land, more trouble brewed. The Egyptian rabble traveling with them complained about the manna. They longed for the fish, cucumber, melons, leeks, onions, and garlic of their homeland. “We are sick of nothing at all to eat except this manna!” The Israelites took up the rebellious whining. Even the sons of Judah began complaining.

  “These people have learned nothing.” Caleb kept his wives and sons inside the tent. “Do they think the Lord does not hear their carping?”

  Jerioth said nothing, but Azubah argued. “I am as sick of the manna as they are. I can barely swallow it without gagging on the sweetness of it.”

  “You try my patience, woman. When will you learn to give thanks for what God has given us?”

  “I am thankful, but must we have the same thing day after day?”

  “You lived on barley cakes and water in Egypt and never once complained.”

  “Yes, but this God could give us anything and everything we want. Why does He withhold a feast from heaven and instead make us grovel on our knees every morning for one day’s portion of manna? I’m sick of it—sick of it, I say. I wish we had never left Egypt!”

  Then God sent quail and a plague.

  Azubah feasted on roasted birds and died.

  Remembering her as a young bride and mother, Caleb grieved. Leaving Jerioth in camp to tend the baby, he and his other sons carried Azubah’s body outside the camp. They buried her among thousands of others. Weeping, Caleb went down on his knees and stretched out his hands, his gaze fixed upon the cloud. Why won’t they listen, Lord? How is it I believe and so many don’t? They saw the plagues of Egypt. They walked through the sea. They saw the water come from the rock. They’ve eaten the manna. Why, Lord? Why won’t they believe?

  Thirty days after Azubah’s death, Caleb sought another wife from among the daughters of Judah left fatherless.

  Zimri advised him. “Ephrathah would be a good choice.”

  The Hebrews overhearing the conversation exchanged smiles, and Caleb suspected that no one else wanted the woman. So be it. He would do whatever necessary to solidify his family’s alliance with Zimri, even if it meant taking some loathsome woman off his hands.

  “I will make arrangements for the bride-price.”

  Several men laughed low and bent their heads close to whisper. Zimri gripped Caleb’s arm. “Do not take heed of those who only take notice of the surface.”

  Ephrathah was brought to his tent. When Caleb lifted her veil, his suspicions were confirmed. He treated her with consideration if not affection.

  Another rebellion arose, this time between the high priest, Aaron, and Miriam over Moses’ Cushite wife. The Lord struck Miriam with leprosy and then healed her when Aaron pleaded for her. Even so, the law required Miriam to spend seven days outside the camp. Everyone waited for her return, for she was held in high esteem as the sister of Moses, the one who had watched over him as he drifted on the Nile and then been bold enough to speak to Pharaoh’s daughter about his need for a wet nurse. The cunning girl had brought back their mother to tend him.

  Caleb loved to listen to Ephrathah’s stories. She knew the history of her people in a way he had never heard it. She was more eloquent than Zimri and the elders! Every bit of information he could gather helped him pry into the boundaries of his adopted tribe. He smiled as his sons leaned in close, listening hungrily. This new wife of his had the gift of storytelling. Seeing her more clearly, he cherished her. Ephrathah was as stubborn in her f
aith as he. Even Jerioth, about to bear her second child, deferred to Ephrathah.

  “Moses drifted among the crocodiles and serpents.” Ephrathah moved her hands sinuously as she told the story of Moses. “Even the wise ibises paid no attention. Israel’s deliverer was within their reach, and they did not know. And where did the Lord take the babe, but straight into the arms of the daughter of His enemy, Pharaoh. Moses’ sister, Miriam, came out of hiding then and said the baby needed a wet nurse and would the lady like her to fetch one. Of course, she did, having no milk to offer. And so it was that Jochebed, Moses’ own mother, received her son back again.” Ephrathah laughed. “The Lord laughs at His enemies, for they have no power against Him.”

  Caleb drew Ephrathah close in his arms that night. He whispered into the curve of her neck, “You are worth your weight in gold.”

  Zimri and the other elders of Judah called the heads of families together. Moses had called for twelve spies to enter Canaan, one from each tribe. Judah must choose a representative.

  Dozens of men volunteered, Caleb among them. Though he quaked at the thought of entering Canaan without the Lord overhead, he knew if he was chosen, he and his family would hold a place of honor from this time forward. “Let me. I’m not afraid. Send me!”

  Everyone started talking at once and no one heard him but those standing close. They sneered. The elders were calling for discussion.

  “It should be a young man without wife and children on such a journey.”

  “There is no guarantee the man will return alive.”

  “There are giants in the land. Descendants of Anak.”

  At that, some men changed their minds about volunteering.

  Voices grew louder. “Let each family offer one, and we will cast lots to see who the Lord will send.”

  If that happened, Caleb knew he stood no chance. He shoved into the circle. “I will go.” His sons would have a place among God’s people even if he had to sacrifice his life to make certain of it.

  The gathering fell silent. Several looked to Zimri.

  The old man shook his head. “No.”