The Walls of Arad (Journey to Canaan Book 3)

by Carole Towriss

  She closed her eyes again and savored the contact, entwined her fingers with his, pulling his hand to her chest. In the middle of the night, it was easy to imagine a life with him. Pretend he would always be there. See children, grandchildren. A long life, a happy life.

  Zadok shifted, burying his face in her neck for a moment before his head dropped back on the cushion they shared.

  Arisha waited until his breathing slowed again. Then she pulled the blanket up higher, and sighed contentedly as she drifted back to sleep.

  When the warmth of the sun and the aroma of manna cooking over campfires finally invaded their tent, Arisha rolled on her other side and studied the face of the man lying next to her. How could he sleep so deeply? His face seemed so peaceful, so content. As it always did, whenever she saw him. Since the first time, at Miriam’s tent. That peace was one of the most attractive things about him. Although his face and form were quite handsome, it was this quiet strength that drew her the most.

  She stretched out her fingertips and smoothed his thick hair from his eyes, stubborn curls falling back onto his forehead. She traced his jaw, hidden under his soft beard. Her hand followed the curve of his shoulder, then the muscles down his arm. How could he be so strong and so gentle at the same time?

  He was locked in here with her for seven days, but after that … after that he would leave, and she could never again be certain he would be back. The hope that had burned so brightly in the deep of last night evaporated like smoke in the bright light of morning. Her heart clenched.

  His eyes fluttered open. He blinked a few times, then smiled as he drew her closer. His arm still encircling her waist, he leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Sleep well?”

  She nodded. “And you?”

  “With you next to me? Of course.” He kissed her cheek again, then slid his mouth to hers.

  She slipped her arms around his back, his kisses sending heat throughout her body as they became more intense. Every thought in her mind was banished except her delight in the warmth of his body next to hers.

  A child’s giggle outside the tent drew their attention and she broke the kiss. She furrowed her brow as she glanced at the door. Who would come this early? The day after they married?

  Zadok chuckled. “It’s just Zivah and Adira delivering our manna for the day.” He bounced his brows. “Since it’s our bridal week and we can’t leave.” He kissed her a few more times, then rolled over and sat up. He reached outside and retrieved the food and a skin of milk. “Hungry?”

  “Not yet.” She shook her head and sat up.

  Zadok grinned mischievously and set the food aside.

  She laughed. “That’s not what I meant!”

  He laughed as he grabbed her, laid her back down on the sleeping mat and kissed her passionately. He pulled back to look in her eyes. “I love you, Arisha. I promise you I will prove it to you every day.”

  She caressed his cheek. I’m certain you do love me. If only I could say it back. But that was something she could not risk.

  Not yet, anyway.

  Fifteen

  13th day of Sivan

  ZADOK scanned the pasture one more time, making certain that each of his sheep was happy and well. He trusted his men, especially Jonah, but after being back only one week, he had to be sure himself.

  Shika nudged his shin, and he knelt beside the jovial lamb. “Did you miss me, girl?” Zadok rubbed her head, then moved his hands down the animal’s neck and back, scratching as he went. “Feels good?”

  The lamb responded with a shake of her tail, and nuzzled Zadok.

  Zadok patted her head and stood, then signaled Jonah. “I’m going to say goodbye to Jacob before he leaves with Joshua. Take care of my sheep?”

  The younger man smiled. “Always.”

  Zadok jogged to camp. He stopped by his tent and poked his head inside. Arisha wasn’t there. Where could she be? He checked Abba’s tent. Not there either. And not to the right, at Zivah’s. One place left. He cut between Abba’s tent and Joshua’s. Ah, there she was.

  In the walkway in front of Moses’s tent a large group milled around Moses, Aaron, Joshua, and Caleb. On the outer edge, Jacob held Adira, who laid her curly head on his shoulder. Josiah stood with his little hand clutched in Zivah’s.

  Zadok slid in next to Jacob and took Adira from him, who joined the others. Most of the men Zadok didn’t know, as the group represented all twelve tribes. He quickly scanned the crowd. Who was from Judah besides Jacob?

  Joshua’s son Tobiah stood near his sabba. Tobiah’s son Eliel as well. But who was that hanging on his arm? Marah? Zadok shook his head.

  Next to him, Arisha slipped her arm around Zivah’s waist. His sister smiled and chattered, but Zadok knew, and he knew Jacob knew, she was only putting on a brave face. She’d never been alone; she’d always had Imma and Abba, and then Jacob. And though everyone had been expecting this moment, anticipating it, since the pronouncement, no one really knew how she would do on her own.

  Moses looked over each one of the emissaries, then turned to Joshua. “You know the message I would like delivered to the king of Edom. Remind them that our ancestors were brothers together in his land, and therefore we are cousins. Then the Egyptians mistreated us, but when we cried out to the Lord, he heard our cry and rescued us. Now we are here at Kadesh, on the edge of Edom’s territory, and we need to pass through their country. Assure them we will not go through any field or vineyard, or drink water from any well. We will travel only along the King’s Highway.”

  Joshua nodded. “Do you think they will honor our kinship?”

  “I don’t know. We can only ask.” He tilted his head toward his brother. “Let us bless you before you go.”

  The group fell silent as Aaron stepped forward and raised his hands over the men. “May Yahweh keep watch over you as you are apart from us. May He bless you and keep you, may He make his face shine on you and be gracious to you; may Yahweh turn his face toward you and give you peace.”

  “Let us go then, and stop standing around here.” Joshua picked up his pack and headed east, his spear resting on his left shoulder.

  Jacob grabbed Zivah once more and hugged her tightly. She returned his smile with an uneasy one of her own, and Jacob fell into line with the others. Arisha steered Zivah away from the group, back toward her tent.

  “Adira, let’s go to the water.” Zadok bent to pick her up, but a familiar—and unwelcome—voice caught his attention.

  “So, you found another way to avoid the battles now?” Marah’s abba sauntered toward him, his four sons in tow. “The marriage exemption. How does it feel to be the first one to claim that?”

  Zadok’s hands fisted and unfisted. He hadn’t claimed it. He was told he couldn’t go. “I’m not discussing this with you.”

  “I heard he has an even better reason for not wanting to fight.” Malkiel’s eldest stood feet wide, his chest puffed out.

  “Really?” Malkiel turned to his son in an exaggerated display of curiosity. “And what would that be?”

  “I heard his new bride is Canaanite.”

  The older man’s cold eyes drilled a hole through Zadok. “He married a Canaanite? Isn't that forbidden?”

  “Not if she worships Yahweh. Which she does.” Zadok struggled to control his tone.

  “I wonder what our high priest would have to say about this.” Malkiel’s upper lip curled, while behind him his son cracked his knuckles.

  “He knows.” Zadok said.

  “He couldn't possibly.” Malkiel huffed.

  “Moses was at the wedding.”

  “You're lying. I'm going to Aaron. You cannot bring a...a...Canaanite into our camp without consequences.” Malkiel’s face was red, his words clipped.

  “I already did.” Zadok turned to leave.

  Malkiel grabbed Zadok’s bicep. “She doesn't belong here. And if Aaron won't do anything about it, I will.”

  Zadok stepped into the man. “Stay away from my wife.”

>   Malkiel stormed off, sputtering, trailed by his sons.

  They probably never had an independent thought in their lives.

  Zadok smiled and bent to pick up Adira. “Let’s go to the river, habibti. You too, Josiah. We’ll let your imma rest a bit.” He kissed Arisha before chasing Josiah, already racing toward the water.

  “When will Abba come back, Uncle Zadok?” Adira stared over his shoulder at the retreating figures.

  “I don’t know, habibti. Not too long. Josiah, too far ahead.”

  “I miss him.”

  “I know. No one’s ever been gone from us before. It’ll be hard for your imma.”

  Adira sat back on his arm and caught his gaze. “I will be extra good for her.”

  Zadok chuckled. “That’s very sweet of you. I’m sure she’ll like that.”

  She wiggled free and chased after Josiah.

  Zadok glanced at the armed scouts marching east. One side of him rejoiced; he wanted to stay home, not sure how Arisha would respond when he finally had to fight on her homeland. The other side wanted do his part, fight for Israel, conquer the land Yahweh had given them.

  Not to mention clear his name.

  No matter. It would all happen soon enough.

  Danel wound his way through the clamorous throng of worshippers gathered outside the twin temples west of the palace. He twisted and moved to avoid the sweaty bodies that continually jostled him. Songs and chants and instruments competed with each other for dominance over the laughter and shouts of people. His heart ached for the people of Arad, lost in their obscene worship of false gods.

  Moonlight bounced off the gold and silver jewelry tied onto the wrists and anklets of the women spinning frenetically in circles large and small, sometimes even alone, oblivious to all else. Girls, some barely marriageable age, dressed in clothing that left nothing to the imagination danced on the round altar that stood nearly as tall as a man, and as wide as five men.

  Men and boys waved bundles of golden wheat over their heads, singing and chanting to the god of the harvest. Freshly baked loaves of bread sat on much smaller, square stone altars in the anterooms that served each of the twin temples. Danel breathed in the aroma and his stomach growled. He hadn’t eaten since early morning, when he’d awakened the king. All he could force down then was some juice and a bite of cheese. Just knowing what was coming today, what he’d be seeing …

  But the bread arranged around on the altars was for Baal and Asherah, anyway. Not mere humans.

  No, the task for humans this day was to encourage the gods to keep blessing Arad with abundance and fertility—for the crops and the people. Because apparently without reminders, the gods might forget how to bestow the fertility, so the people had to show them how. Repeatedly.

  A young girl, her long hair flowing down her back, the sash of her tunic looped around her neck instead of tied around her waist, stepped out of the aisle that ran alongside the temples. She clung to an older man dressed in the expensive purple robes of the priesthood of Baal. He kissed her cheek as she left him; another quickly replaced her and he headed back to the room from which he’d come.

  Another young woman with a tunic dyed in the same rich violet exited a room, the first of many tucked along the city wall, facing the temple across a dirty and smelly alley. She sauntered into the courtyard, her too short tunic slipping off her shoulder and revealing a good part of what shouldn’t be seen in public. “Lotan! Back again?” She wrapped her hand around a young man’s neck and pulled his mouth down to hers.

  If Danel had had any food in his belly, it would have come up.

  The temple consort and her guest retreated to her room.

  Danel turned away. Enough. He’d put in plenty of time to be seen, to fulfill his requirement of attendance at the harvest feast in case the king asked him. Or asked others about him. At least Yasha didn’t have to witness this depravity, thank Yahweh. Time to go home. But he might have to take the long way to try to erase some of these wicked scenes from his head before he spent time with his wife and grandchildren.

  He turned to walk away and slammed into the solid chest of Lukii. “Lukii, wh- what are you doing here?”

  Lukii’s face turned the color of a pomegranate. He opened and closed his mouth, but no words came out. He paused, then took a deep breath. “Well, I have to come, same as you.”

  “I know that. I mean what are you doing here? By the prostitute rooms?” Danel shoved his thumb over his shoulder. “You said you wouldn’t do that.” He stepped nearer to the young man. “The altar is here as well. Do you intend to sacrifice?”

  “No! No, of course not. I’m just taking a walk to stretch my legs after standing guard for so long.”

  Danel narrowed his eyes.

  “You can check with Aqhat!”

  “I will.”

  Lukii’s shoulders dropped. His eyes held no light.

  Danel regretted his attack. “Lukii, forgive me. I just wanted to make sure you don’t go back to these false gods. But I should have trusted you more.” He placed his hand on the soldier’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  Lukii appeared to contemplate Danel’s words as a dancer bumped into him. Without speaking again, he stalked away.

  Would he forgive Danel?

  Or had Danel made a fatal error that placed his life—and his family’s—in the angry young man’s hands?

  Arisha stuffed another branch under the huge pot balanced on rocks over their fire. The flame crackled and brightened to a deep orange, then settled down to a nice, hot blue. The bubbling increased, and she stirred the water with a stripped date palm branch, whitened from years of use. The fabric popped up with the bubbles, and she shoved it down, only to have it pop up in another place.

  Adi reached over and dropped some more of the weld flower seeds into the pot, and the deep yellow color swirled and frothed. Arisha stirred the water, the fabric clinging to the branch as it circled the pot. Satisfied the color had saturated the cloth, she sat back and picked up her sewing cloth. Up, down. Again. At least her stitches were looking better.

  “So, habibti, are you settling into your new tent? Do you need anything?” Adi slapped her hands together to get rid of the color the seeds had left behind.

  My husband needs me to tell him I love him. But I can’t. “No, we have everything we need. Thank you.” She smiled sweetly, hoping Adi wouldn’t see she wasn’t telling the whole truth.

  “It took me a long time to get used to living with Ahmose.”

  Arisha's head shot up, her eyes widened. Adi sat there eating dates like she’d just stated she wanted more to eat, not that she’d ever been uncomfortable around her husband. Arisha would never have guessed they’d been at odds for a single moment—they seemed to be one person. “Really? I- I thought …”

  Adi laughed. “I know. We get along beautifully, now. But at first, even though I’d never lived alone before, it still felt so … strange … to live with him, even though I loved him with my whole heart. It is an entirely different thing to share not just your tent, but your life with someone. To share not only your bed, but your thoughts, your dreams, everything you thought was hidden … I almost felt like he invaded my life.”

  Arisha's cheeks heated. She bent over her cloth, sewing more quickly. Maybe Adi wouldn’t see the pinking of her skin. Or maybe she would think it was because she sat so close to the fire. The bubbling beside her grew louder as the conversation quieted.

  “Arisha? Is everything all right?”

  She nodded—probably too quickly, since Adi scooted closer and draped an arm around her shoulder.

  Arisha dropped the cloth and looked away. She couldn’t let Zadok’s mother see her face, read her thoughts.

  “Let me guess. You’re glad you married Zadok, but you are uncomfortable sometimes, perhaps often, and you feel guilty about that, and you are afraid that means you do not love him. But it is too late now, and you are even more afraid you will both be miserable and you will ruin his life.”
>
  The breath left Arisha's lungs in a whoosh. How could Adi possibly know that? She swallowed a sob, continued staring into the fire.

  “Habibti, Arisha.” Adi gently turned Arisha's face toward hers. “You will be fine, I assure you. You both will.”

  Arisha searched her eyes, desperately hoping for some assurance, some promise it truly would be all right.

  “I know you love him—”

  Arisha's breath caught. “You do?”

  “Of course you do. I can see it in your eyes. The way you look at him. The way you say his name. The way you smile when he says yours.” Adi stroked her hair. “You just need time. It takes time to get used to each other.”

  Maybe Adi was right. Maybe all they needed was time.

  “I had it easier with Ahmose, I think. Ahmose is a very confident, very outgoing man. He loves to be around people. He’ll talk to anyone. That was a good thing in the first years of our marriage, because it gave me some time alone. But Zadok is quite different from his father. Zadok would always rather be away from people. I’m guessing he is always at home, yes?”

  Arisha nodded her head. She didn’t trust her voice.

  “And is that all right with you? Do you need some time? We can work something out. Ahmose can take—”

  “No! I like having him home with me.”

  “All right.” Adi tilted her head. “You just look like you’re having a hard time with something, that’s all. If I can help you with anything, or Zivah, if you’d rather …”

  “No, it’s fine.” Change the subject. “And Zivah has enough to deal with on her own. How is she doing?”

  “Better. She’s feeling better, and that helps a great deal.”

  “Good. Maybe I can take the children to the river again after the noon meal.”

  Adi nodded, but Arisha could feel her continuing to study her. Did she know? Did she know Arisha was holding back part of herself from Zadok?

  Because she could never tell him she loved him. As long as she didn’t say it, maybe it wouldn’t be real. And if it wasn’t real, maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t hurt so much when it finally evaporated like a morning’s dew.