In the Shadow of Sinai (Journey to Canaan Book 1)

by Carole Towriss

  Ahmose looked up. “I’m Ahmose.”

  “I know you. You are Egyptian?”

  “Yes. They said I could come!” Ahmose shrank behind Sabba.

  “Of course. It’s all right.” Moses crooked his finger and beckoned the child. “Do you believe the water is sweet now?”

  Ahmose emerged. “You said it is. Shaddai healed Bezalel. He can make the water sweet.”

  “You have greater faith than my people. Go ahead; test the water.”

  Ahmose ran to the spring and plunged his hands in. He brought them up to his mouth and slurped. Then he looked back and smiled.

  Cheers erupted from the crowd, and those closest drank and then filled their skins before backing away to allow others access.

  They found a place to camp, and Imma passed around the few remaining mat sot they had. “We are almost out of food as well as water. I hope Moses’s oasis has something to eat.”

  “I guess we’ll find out in the morning.” Sabba yawned and stretched.

  Bezalel began setting up tents—one for Imma and Meri, then one for himself, Sabba and Ahmose.

  Ahmose plopped on the ground and moaned.

  “Come here, habibi.” Meri pulled Ahmose into her lap and pulled off his sandal. “Where does it hurt?”

  “Here.” Ahmose pointed to a spot on the sole of his foot.

  “I think you had a tiny rock in your sandal. Didn’t you feel it?”

  Ahmose shrugged.

  Meri turned to Imma. “Do we have any honey or oil?”

  Imma rummaged in the bag. She found the precious liquid and handed it to Meri.

  Meri put a few drops on her fingers and gently rubbed it onto Ahmose’s dirty foot.

  Ahmose sighed and snuggled into her chest.

  “Don’t fall asleep yet. You have to eat.” Meri reached for the plate of flat bread.

  Ahmose grabbed the last two pieces and began gobbling them.

  “Wait—” Bezalel leaned toward the empty plate.

  Meri shot him a warning look. When Ahmose had finished, she shooed him into his tent.

  “Did you get anything to eat?”

  “He needs it more than I do. I’ll eat tomorrow.”

  Bezalel chuckled and shook his head. “I’d have saved you some if I knew you were going to do that.”

  “One missed meal won’t hurt me. I missed more than that when Jannes locked me up. I’ll be fine.” She kissed his cheek. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Before he crawled into his tent, Bezalel lay on the warm sand. The heat crept into his muscles and soothed them. Meri was here. Sabba and Imma. Sweet Ahmose. An oasis tomorrow. And freedom. They should be in Canaan in a few weeks. A whole new life. Everything he never even dared hope for.

  His body relaxed as his mind shut down. The sun dropped in the west, and the cloud above them metamorphosed from fluffy white, to transparent, to glowing.

  25 Abib

  Elim

  As soon as the sun rose over the mountains, Bezalel and his family began walking south. Other groups were ahead of them on the path, having started in the gray hours before dawn. Everyone knew that just a few hours away waited a beautiful oasis called Elim, with palm trees and water. Abundant, sweet water—Elim had twelve massive springs, with succulent dates and figs. And luscious shade.

  They reached Elim before midday. As Imma set out lunch under a tree, Bezalel took all of the water skins and found a spring. He quickly filled each bag and brought them back to the others. The little group gulped the cool water and enjoyed fresh fruit.

  “I don’t think I can walk another step!” Meri rubbed her shoulders.

  “I hope we can stay here a day or two.” Bezalel knelt behind Meri and massaged her neck.

  “I think I’d like to lie down a while.”

  “I’ll set up the tent for you.” He placed a kiss on the top of her head.

  “Moses says we’ll be here for quite a while. We only move when the cloud moves.” Sabba pointed at the sky above him and then stretched his arms above his head.

  Bezalel set up the tent for Imma and Meri, and they disappeared inside.

  “Sabba, take a walk with me?”

  “A short one. I was hoping for a nap under one of these trees.” Sabba chuckled.

  “Sure, a short one.”

  They wandered toward one of the springs surrounded by palm trees. “I told you I asked Meri to be my wife.”

  “Yes, you did. You still want to marry her?”

  Bezalel stopped and faced his grandfather. “Without a doubt.”

  “She is how old?”

  “Old enough. Fifteen.”

  “She has no family to ask. I don’t see why not, if she agrees.” Sabba ambled on, his hands behind his back. “Are you ready for the disapproval you will receive from some here?”

  “I’ve already gotten a taste, just for being with Kamose.”

  They reached the spring. “You know it will be much worse with Meri. She is a wonderful girl, and we have already fallen in love with her as well, but others will only see her as a concu—”

  “But nothing happened that night!” Bezalel pounded his fist into a palm trunk as rage whipped through him like a desert wind. “And you know what? I wouldn’t care if it did! She was a slave to him as much as the rest of us. She wasn’t in control of what happened to her body any more than I was.”

  Sabba put his hands on his shoulders. “Habibi, if you cannot control your anger with me, how will you control it with anyone else?”

  Bezalel expelled a long breath. He obviously couldn’t control his anger at all. But if he wanted a life with Meri, he had better learn. And quickly.

  Bezalel sat leaning against a date palm tree as Meri giggled and splashed around in one of Elim’s many glistening pools.

  “This feels so good on my feet.”

  He enjoyed watching her face light up whenever she experienced something new. At this particular moment, he also enjoyed watching the way the silky fabric of her tunic hugged her curves.

  She snuggled down next to him, facing him, and then caressed his cheek. “You look so different with a beard.”

  He laughed. “I’d hardly call it that. It’s been less than two weeks.”

  She reached behind his neck and touched his hair. “Why do you still wear it tied up? You’re not in the palace anymore.”

  He shrugged. “It’s habit, now. I’m not used to wearing it down yet.”

  She tilted her head and looked at him. “You’ve never told me what your name means.”

  “What?”

  “In your language. What does your name mean?”

  “In the shadow of God.” He blew out a harsh breath. “It’s appropriate. I’ve always felt like I’m in the shadows—cold, dark, forgotten.”

  “Hmmm. That’s not what comes to mind when I think of shadows at all.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When I was a little girl, before my imma died, we all worked in our field together. When we weeded, or planted, or picked the crops, I always tried to stay in her shadow. I thought it was a little cooler, but mostly I always knew that she was nearby, without even having to see her. I knew I was safe, and loved.”

  She stared into the distance, as if seeing a memory. “Later, in the evening, as she made dinner outside, I would lie down in her long shadow. I would try to lay my head on her shadow-head, and see where my feet ended up.” She laughed. “She always scolded me for lying in the dirt, but I never listened.”

  She looked into his eyes. “Maybe that’s how you should think of it. You don’t seem to be forgotten now.”

  “Maybe.” He played with a lock of her hair.

  She grinned. “Do you know what my name means?”

  He laughed. “Of course, beloved.” He kissed her cheek. Then he paused for a moment. “You do know I tried to come for you. Soldiers surrounded the palace. I couldn’t get near you.”

  “I know. I couldn’t get out.”

&nb
sp; He took her hand and held it, drawing circles on the back of it with his thumb. “Tell me what happened the day you left.”

  “Ramses finally realized Amun-her was dead and his slaves were gone. I guess he knew he couldn’t bring back his son, but he could try to bring you all back, so he sent Kamose to ready the army. He was screaming from the throne room. I could hear him in the harem.” She shuddered.

  “The rest of the harem was upriver, so I was alone. Kamose burst into the room, told me if I wanted to go with him to find you I had to leave right then, not to pack anything, just to follow him. He grabbed my hand, and I went with him to the stables. He helped me on a huge horse, the biggest one I have ever seen, and we rode for what seemed like forever.”

  “The ride was hard?”

  She laughed. “Kamose rode so fast, I thought I’d fall off many times. My legs hurt. My back ached. I was hotter than I’ve ever been. But I just kept thinking that at the end of it all … would be you.”

  He ran the backs of his fingers down her cheek. “I thought I’d never see you again. Those first days without you were … agonizing.” He closed his eyes a moment. “I don’t ever want to feel like that again.”

  She smiled. “I’m here now. You won’t.”

  “I want to marry you.”

  She scoffed. “Out here? In the desert?”

  “Why not? I thought Egyptian weddings were simple.”

  “They are. But yours aren’t.”

  “Sabba can do the blessing; the rest we can do without.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’ve asked you twice now. You’re the one who needs to be sure.”

  She giggled. “I think I proved that by riding a horse for hours to get here.” She wrapped a hand behind his neck and pulled his head to her. She touched her lips to his forehead, his temple, his cheek.

  He slipped his arms around her and drew her closer. Her mouth moved to his jaw, kissing him from his ear to his chin. Heat coursed through his body. A moan rumbled low in his throat as her lips hovered over his, her tantalizing mouth just out of reach. He leaned forward and claimed his kiss, and she returned it with such intensity it left him breathless.

  “Need more proof?”

  “Need or want?” His voice was raspy.

  She giggled. “Marry me and you can have all the proof you want.”

  Bezalel woke with the sun and stretched. He stared up at the stripe around his tent—why was it blue instead of red? Then he remembered he was in a new tent, one he now shared with Meri. He rolled over on his side and draped his arm over her sleeping form, pulling her closer and breathing deeply. Even without the jasmine, her scent was intoxicating. Her black hair spilled onto her bare shoulders. He never would have believed skin could be so soft. Raising himself up on his elbow and resting his head on one hand, he traced his finger over her eyes, her cheeks, her jaw. He left his hand on her neck and drew his thumb over her full lips.

  She stirred. Her eyes fluttered open and rested on his face. A look came over her he could not name, but which caused his entire body to shiver with delight.

  The wedding had been far more Egyptian than Hebrew. After a blessing by Sabba, Meri had simply moved from Imma’s tent to his. There was no procession to her house to ask her father for permission. There were no attendants for either of them. There was no dancing or feasting long into the night after the bride and groom retired to their new home.

  For Meri’s sake, they had wanted as little attention as possible. He didn’t care. He didn’t want attention. He only wanted her.

  And now he had her.

  15 Ziv

  Wilderness of Sin

  Bezalel gulped water from a skin as Imma set out the last dates and figs brought from Elim. The white-hot desert sun, high in the sky, poured out more heat than ever. The hot and dry season of Egypt had arrived early and in full force. The unbroken expanse of sand and rock reflected the heat and kept the air much hotter and drier than the delta ever was. Only the cloud kept the heat from turning them into the dry bones they saw scattered along the way.

  They left the large pools of Elim and found only pockets of water hidden in the rocks, and several small pools. Clearly, there was water underground to supply the acacias and tamarisk trees, but so deep as to be useless to travelers. The winter had apparently been an especially dry one.

  They had camped at Elim for most of a month, to allow everyone to rest, gather energy, and fatten the animals for the weeks-long journey, and at this moment Bezalel wished they had never left. They had eaten most of the food from the oasis on the last few days’ journey into the desert. The gnawing in Bezalel’s stomach demanded his attention. Would he ever be full again?

  Around him, the grumbling of the people grew louder. Again. True, in Egypt there was always food and drink, but they had also been beaten, controlled, and harassed. Slaves died for no other reason than the taskmaster of the day disliked them. Surely they could see this was a vast improvement. And they would be in their new land in no more than a month, even at the slow pace they kept. Never again would they be hungry. Never again would they be slaves. It was almost over. Apparently, Shaddai really did have a plan after all.

  Bezalel reached for a date and ripped it in two. He offered half to his grandfather.

  Sabba held out his hand, but a breathless young man—a tanned, tall, muscled, and filthy intruder several years older than Bezalel—raced up to Sabba and fell at his feet.

  “Sir, are you Hur, son of Caleb?” Gasping for breath, he looked up from where he had fallen on his hands and knees.

  “I am.” Sabba knelt and faced the young man. “What can I do for you?”

  “I am Joshua, son of Nun, of the tribe of Ephraim. I have been searching for you all morning.” He sat up and gulped more air before continuing. “I cannot get to Moses. He is talking to Aaron, and guards stand outside their tents. They sent me to you instead. They said you could help.”

  Sabba placed a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “What is it that is so important? And what happened to you?”

  Bezalel marveled at Sabba’s compassion, one of the things he loved most about his grandfather. Well known by now as one of Moses’s most trusted advisors, Sabba was bombarded all day with silly questions. Yet with each person he acted as if he had all the time in the world.

  “We were attacked early, just as the sun rose. I fought them, all morning. I killed some of them, but we still lost many….”

  “Who attacked you? Where, exactly, and how?” Sabba raised his eyebrows, and the tone of his voice lowered.

  Joshua breathed deeply and sat up straighter. His ebony hair hung straight and coarse and was pulled back with a leather tie, though some of it had escaped and fallen around his neck. The battle he had been through was obvious from his tunic, bloody and ripped in several places, and from his feet, caked with dried blood.

  He took a deep, ragged breath. “I don’t know who they were. We are always at the back of camp. My grandfather is old and slow, so we are among the last to make camp, on the edges. They came before we awakened. They attacked with astonishing force, slaughtered many, and left as quickly. We tried to fight back, but we were severely outnumbered, and of course unarmed. They took what little food we had left and looted some of the tents.”

  Joshua paused and stared, his eyes glassed over, shaking his head. “I tried. I tried so hard … they just wouldn’t stop killing….”

  Bezalel had to strain to hear Joshua’s whispers.

  “And your father?”

  Joshua turned his attention back to Sabba. “He, my mother, my sister … all were killed. I have no one left.”

  “And you’ve been fighting since dawn?”

  “No. The attack didn’t last very long. I tried to calm those who survived. Then I looked for Moses.”

  “Bezalel.” Sabba spoke so only he could hear. “Take Joshua inside my tent. Give him some food and water and let him lie down. Then we’ll go talk to Moses.”

  “Yes, Sa
bba.” Bezalel went to Joshua and helped him up.

  “I’ll tell your mother and Meri where we are.”

  Bezalel put his arm around Joshua’s waist and helped the silent and exhausted man to their tent. Joshua’s weight felt heavy on Bezalel’s shoulder. Inside the tent, he pulled out a mat and helped Joshua lie down.

  Joshua mumbled, “Thank you. I’ll just rest for a while.”

  Bezalel stepped outside and got some dates and water from Imma. When he returned, Joshua had drifted off to sleep.

  So, obviously it was not almost over. Things had taken a dramatic turn for the worse. He should have known better.

  Bezalel looked at the bloody and wounded young man who had collapsed in the tent. He could not imagine how he would feel if his family were all killed. Then he did the only thing he knew to do to help Joshua—he found a pitcher and basin and washed his bleeding feet.

  Sixteen

  Bezalel rubbed at the dried blood smeared on his hands as he sat on a cushion across from Moses in the leader’s tent. Perhaps if he avoided looking at Moses and his grandfather, he could pretend this conversation wasn’t happening. But that would be disrespectful.

  “He was far too fatigued and distraught to give me many details.” Sabba waved his hand. “He only said they attacked at dawn and looted their tents.”

  Moses stroked his chin as he listened. “I have lived in this desert for forty years. Only the Amalekites fight in such a cowardly manner.” He sighed and shook his head. “They do not fight with honor. They attack the very young and very old, the slowest, those who remain behind. They are a most violent people. They kill and maraud, steal and destroy. They live by death.” The old man started to pull himself up with his staff.

  Bezalel stood and offered his arm. He grunted as Moses yanked on his forearm and shoulder.

  Moses circled the tent and rubbed his hip. “When they return, we will have to fight.” He held the flap of the tent open.

  Outside, Aaron tried to calm a growing crowd held back by ten men acting as guards. Bezalel’s heart sank as yet again the mob shouted with fists raised.

  A tall, bald man shoved his way forward. “If only we had stayed in Egypt! There we ate all the food we wanted!”