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

by Carole Towriss

  Ahmose’s cry interrupted his thoughts. He bolted toward the sound.

  Michael stood towering over the boy, scowling.

  Kamose placed a hand on Ahmose’s shoulder, easing him back. He inserted himself between Ahmose and Michael, who came up only to his chest.

  Michael took a step back. “The mighty Egyptian soldier, the famous bodyguard. Didn’t do such a good job last time.” He curled his lips into a sneer.

  Ahmose peered out from behind Kamose’s legs.

  Kamose glared down at Michael. He’d never killed before unless in battle or under orders. But for Michael, he’d make an exception—if Ahmose weren’t watching. “You were, and always will be, a coward. You cannot be proud of attacking an unarmed old man. And you accomplished nothing.”

  Michael stepped closer. “You don’t belong here. You should leave.”

  “There are many Egyptians here. And many of other lands as well.”

  “And none of you belong here. Watch out. Or you’re next.” He peeked around Kamose. “Or he is.” He spun on his heels and walked away.

  Ahmose took Kamose’s hand. “I don’t like him. He’s always saying mean things like that.”

  Kamose arched his brow. A shudder went through him. “You’ve seen him before?”

  Ahmose shrugged. “He finds me all the time. He says something to scare me and then leaves.”

  Kamose knelt to face him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me, habibi?”

  “I knew you would protect me if he really tried to hurt me. So far all he’s done is talk.”

  Kamose smiled weakly.

  If only Ahmose knew what Michael had already done.

  20 Av

  “It’s been three weeks. What do we have now?”

  The Levite studied the skin and made some final calculations.

  “One hundred talents of silver, twenty-nine talents of gold, and seventy talents of bronze.”

  Bezalel locked his hands behind his neck. “That’s more than enough. Tell the people to stop bringing gifts.”

  “I did. Day before yesterday. They won’t.” The man pointed toward the gate. “More are coming now.”

  Bezalel scanned the area for Aaron and spotted him just outside the enclosure. He hurried across the field and hopped the fence. “Aaron, the people are bringing too much for the tabernacle.” He waved his hand toward the piles of precious metal. “We are running out of room and spending all our time cataloging and sorting the materials. We have spent the last two days telling people to quit, but they won’t listen. You have to tell them.”

  “If you wish. But you are sure you have enough?”

  “We have more than enough. Add the silver from the ransom price and we are full to overflowing.”

  “We’ll stop, then. And I’ll put Asher there in charge of all the guards and the inventory. You worry about the building.”

  The sun shone its last rays over the western mountains. “All right, Ahmose, there should be no more offerings. When you are finished sorting these last few pieces, we’re done.” Bezalel looked over the list one last time to ensure they had enough of all the necessary materials.

  “Then what will I do?”

  “I’m not sure yet. But we’ll find a special job for you. Maybe you can help me melt the gold. We’ll need a great deal of that.” Bezalel nodded to Asher as the pair stepped through the entrance to the enclosure.

  “That sounds like fun!”

  “It can be exciting at first, but believe me, it will get boring. And it’s a very hot job, too.”

  “I’ll love it as long as you’re there.”

  Bezalel mussed Ahmose’s hair.

  “Last one.” Ahmose took a pitcher to the towering pile of gold.

  “Ready to go then?”

  “Wait.” Ahmose scrambled to the top of a large pile of rams’ skins.

  Bezalel laughed as he peered up at the child. “What are you doing up there?”

  “Just looking.”

  “At what?”

  Ahmose spread his hands. “All the stuffYahweh provided. We needed it, and He gave it. Just like the ram! Like the ram in the bushes with Father Abraham! What was that name Abraham called him again?”

  “Jehovah-Jireh?”

  “That’s the one! Jehovah-Jireh.” Ahmose climbed back down. “Jehovah-Jireh. Yahweh. El Shaddai. He has many names, like the pharaoh. Did you know Ramses had more than twenty different names?”

  “No, I didn’t.” They sat down near the gold that already been counted, and Bezalel grabbed a jug of water.

  “Well, he did. I used to know them all, but I forgot. It’s been a long time.”

  “Yes, it has been. And we are very far from the palace, aren’t we?”

  Ahmose sighed. “What now? We have all we need. What do we do next?”

  “Now we wait for Moses to come down from the mountaintop. He has the instructions.” He handed Ahmose the jug. “For now, let’s go home.”

  Meri was nearly asleep when Bezalel crawled in beside her. He kissed her cheek and she rolled on her back.

  “Why are you so late tonight?”

  “We were almost done. The moon was out so I wanted to finish up. Ahmose was so excited and having so much fun. Everything is counted and ready now, so there is nothing left to do until Moses comes down.”

  She reached up and stroked his cheek. “You’ll be such a good father.”

  “Some day.”

  “Sooner than you think.” She took his hand and put it on her belly.

  He furrowed his brow for a moment. Then he realized what she was saying. “A baby?”

  She giggled and nodded.

  “A baby!” He leaned over and kissed her again.

  “Will we still be here or in Canaan?”

  Bezalel shrugged. “I don’t know. I have no idea how long this will take. But maybe the baby will be born in the new land.”

  “New baby, new land.”

  “That would be great. But I really don’t care where he’s born.”

  “Ha! He? What makes you think it will be a he? Maybe it will be a she.”

  “If she is as beautiful as you, I’ll take her.”

  15 Shebat

  Bezalel rolled over in the dark hours of the night and pulled another blanket over himself and Meri. Winter was here and the nights were colder, but the cloud of fire above the camp kept them comfortable. He placed his hand on Meri’s swelling belly and drifted back to sleep.

  Morning dawned earlier than he wanted. Meri slept with her head on his chest, her hair falling around his shoulder. He’d moved her to his right side after the first battle, and his left arm was still weak. He could move it, but only with a fair amount of pain. Even seven months after the battle he still didn’t have anywhere near the flexibility he used to have, and it worried him. Would it compromise the quality of his work? He was about to begin the most delicate pieces. Thank Yahweh it wasn’t his right arm.

  He waited until Meri woke up and ate with her, then went to the tabernacle, Ahmose tagging along behind. He checked on the work of his helpers then went to his own work area, away from the noise and bustle.

  He’d kept for himself the job of creating the Ark of the Covenant, the only piece of furniture that would go in the Holy of Holies, the innermost room of the tent. The Ark was made of two pieces: a large rectangular box made of wood and covered inside and outside with gold, and the lid, or mercy seat, made of solid gold.

  “What do we do first?” Ahmose looked up expectantly.

  “I have to estimate how much gold we’ll need, then we melt it.” They picked through the best pieces of gold that Bezalel had saved for the ark, and dropped them into a large clay pot. “Now we build a very hot fire.” He lit the fire under the pot. “You need to stand back so you don’t get burned.”

  Ahmose obeyed.

  Bezalel stirred the gold as it melted. When he was done he had an almost pure batch of gold, easily malleable. He poured it into a long, shallow c
lay form to let it cool.

  “This is about the size the lid is supposed to be. When it’s cooled, I have to hammer it out thinner, and pull out enough from the ends to make two angels, one at each end.” Bezalel gestured with his hands to show Ahmose where the angels would be. “They will face downward to the top of the ark, bowing before the presence of Yahweh, and their wings will spread forward and touch at the tips.”

  Ahmose frowned. “That sounds like a lot of work.”

  Bezalel chuckled. “It will take many days, and much patience. I’ll start with a big hammer then keep using smaller and smaller ones.”

  “Where did you get hammers?”

  “I made them from some bronze, then I covered the smallest ones with lambskin so they won’t leave marks. Would you like to help me make it?”

  Ahmose drew in a long breath. “I don’t know how.”

  “I’ll show you. You can hold the hammers and make sure I use the right size, getting smaller as we go to the end. Sometimes I don’t pay attention and I make the feathers too big.”

  “You want me to make sure you’re doing it right?”

  “Absolutely. You can watch over me.”

  Ahmose laughed. “That’s funny. I didn’t know you needed watching over.”

  Bezalel tousled the boy’s hair. “Everyone needs to be watched over sometimes.”

  1Adar

  Bezalel tapped the hammer against the gold, his other hand behind the upright sheet of metal for support. “Chisel.”

  Ahmose held out a lambskin-covered chisel.

  Bezalel took the tool and defined the edges of yet another feather.

  “Bezalel, I think you should change hammers now.” Ahmose offered a smaller mallet.

  Bezalel stepped back and surveyed the wing. “You’re right, habibi. You’ve got a good eye.” He winked at Ahmose. “Is this the smallest one?”

  “No. Two more.” He looked toward the west. “Sun’s almost down. Maybe we should stop for today.”

  “Whatever you say. You’re in charge.” Bezalel draped a large piece of linen over the angels.

  Ahmose laughed and carefully packed the hammers and chisel away in a basket. “Meri sent some manna.” He pointed to a plate with a cloth over it, and a skin bag next to it.

  They sat on the lush grass facing the sunset.

  Bezalel grabbed a manna cake. “The sky is pretty tonight.”

  “The baby is almost here, isn’t he?”

  “Almost. About another month. We should be finished with everything by then.”

  “And then we’ll go to Canaan?” Ahmose stuffed the rest of a cake in his mouth.

  Bezalel swallowed some milk and handed Ahmose the skin. “I don’t know. We leave when the cloud leaves.”

  “I hope it’s soon.”

  “Why? Don’t you like it here? We’re away from Egypt.”

  “I know. But…”

  “What?”

  “It would be nice to live in a house all together again, like a family. Like we did before we left. I liked that.”

  Bezalel wrapped his arm around Ahmose’s shoulder and pulled him close. “It won’t be long, habibi. Soon we’ll be in Canaan. And it will be even better than before.”

  9 Adar

  Bezalel ran his hands over the enormous wings of the angels. He had spent almost two weeks hammering out each individual feather on the wings. And they were beautiful. Lifelike. He remembered how just before the darkness, it had taken him hours to fashion a handful of bronze cornflower petals for a necklace, trying to get each one right. It took him six or seven times for each petal at first. He finally became quite good at making them. Now he knew why Yahweh had given him that task.

  He inspected the robe of each cherub as it touched the lid, searching for imperfections. He bent down to see their faces, their eyes closed, lips slightly apart, praising Yahweh. It was finished.

  “What do you think, Ahmose?”

  “It’s beautiful,” he whispered. “Can I touch it?”

  “Yes, go ahead. Soon we won’t be able to.”

  “Why not?” Ahmose fingered the feathers.

  “Once it’s dedicated, no one can touch it. They’ll carry it by poles slipped through the rings on the corners of the bottom part.” Bezalel called an assistant to help him lift it from the wooden table he had used as a work place and moved toward the gold-covered box. As he attached the lid, the Ark of the Covenant—already holding a jar of manna, Aaron’s staff, and the new stone tablets Moses had brought from the mountain—was closed for the last time.

  All that remained was for Oholiab to finish the high priest’s clothing. He said he needed about another month.

  11 Adar

  Bezalel took a hin of fresh olive oil—prepared in the fall by an army of women crushing the fruit and pressing oil from the resulting paste—and poured it into a perfectly round gold basin, just big enough for him to put his arms around, and exactly the right size to hold the oil and spices. Of course it is, because Yahweh gave the dimensions. Olive oil was known for carrying fragrances without either diluting them or making them bitter. The oil would keep the fragrance pure for a long time.

  Yahweh had said to use a perfumer to make the anointing oil. Bezalel knew of only one.

  Meri studied the recipe. She moved slowly now. The baby would come in less than a month.

  He liked to watch her walk. He thought it was a little funny, but sweet. Of course, he didn’t tell her it was funny. If I were carrying a baby in my belly, I’d walk funny, too.

  She repeated the recipe. “Five hundred shekels of myrrh, five hundred shekels of cassia, two hundred fifty shekels of sweet cane, two hundred fifty shekels of cinnamon. We also need frankincense, gum resin, cloves, and galbanum for the incense.” She looked up at the volunteers surrounding her. “All these plants are in the gardens. Come with me. I can show you.” She started for the south side of the camp.

  “You can’t walk that far!” Bezalel reached after her.

  She scoffed. “I can still walk. I’m not an invalid. It’s less than a quarter-hour.”

  “And back.”

  She narrowed her eyes, and he backed off. The group followed her to the garden and Bezalel trailed behind. She pointed out the shrubs that yielded the myrrh and frankincense. “Take your knife and cut a deep slice into the bark to bleed out the gum resin. Catch it and let it harden.” She left several behind to finish that task.

  Meri next took them to the cinnamon tree. “You must cut down one of these branches at the ground. Remove the outer bark, beat the branch up and down to loosen the inner bark, then remove it in slices. Cassia is easier. You just remove the outer bark.”

  “Sweet cane grows in the water. We need the root.” Meri showed them where to get the rest of the plants and how to harvest each of them, leaving behind a few to gather what was needed at each location.

  After two hours, she looked exhausted, but Bezalel didn’t want to say anything.

  Meri grinned at him. “Go ahead; say it.”

  “You look tired.”

  “I am. Walk me back?”

  He smiled and took her arm.

  She leaned on him. “Gather everything and weigh it, and clean it. After lunch I’ll show you what to do next. I’m going to lie down for a while.”

  Bezalel swallowed the last of a manna cake at the noon meal. “All I have left is the anointing oil. Oholiab is finishing the high priest’s garments. Then we set it all up.”

  “It’s been nearly a year since we left Egypt. It will be good to finally get on our way. Though this has been a nice place to wait.” Imma looked around the camp and then back at Meri. She reached over and rubbed her back. “How are you feeling, habibti?”

  “Ready for this baby to come. Oh!” She put her hand on her belly. “I think she’s ready to come, too. She’s really kicking.”

  “Then let’s finish the oil before he decides to get here.” Bezalel stood and held out his hand.

  Meri took it and he pulled her up
.

  “You are getting too heavy.”

  “Hush, or you can make this oil on your own.”

  “Then please forgive me.” He laughed then kissed her.

  She giggled.

  They walked the few steps to the basin, which was surrounded by the other ingredients. Bezalel removed the linen that covered the basin. “What’s next?”

  Meri lowered herself onto a wooden stool. “We need to heat the oil. We’re going to melt the myrrh and steep the fragrance out of the cinnamon, cane, and cassia. We want a slow fire so nothing burns or scalds or gets bitter. Now, for the others, the recipe said to mix it in equal parts and crush to a powder.” She picked up the stacte, onycha, galbanum, and frankincense. “They’re all hardened resins, see? So we just need to crush them.” She absently rubbed her belly.

  Bezalel retrieved the dark yellow myrrh crystals and stirred them into the oil. He scowled. “That smells bitter.”

  Meri laughed. “Add the rest. They’ll sweeten it.”

  He double-checked the recipe. “Five hundred shekels of myrrh and cassia, and two hundred fifty shekels of sweet cane and cinnamon, mixed into a hin of olive oil.” He had nearly doubled the volume of the oil by adding the spices.

  She joined him at the fire. “Now let it simmer over a very low heat for a while. When it’s finished, we scoop out the solids, and let it cool.” She put her hand over his and stirred with him. “Smells better now, doesn’t it?” She leaned back against him.

  He put his arm around her. Suddenly he gasped. “He’s really kicking!”

  “I know. She’s been doing that all day.”

  “How much longer?”

  “About three weeks.”

  His lips curved into a smile. “I can hardly wait.”

  She laughed. “You don’t have much choice. The baby comes when she wants to, and not before.”

  Twenty-two

  12 Adar

  Bezalel studied the tabernacle. The tent was eight or ten times longer than he was tall, and half that wide. Everything was finished—all the furnishings, the tent framework, its coverings, the priests’ clothing, the anointing oil.