Lioness: Mahlah's Journey

by Barbara M. Britton

  Swallowing the lump in her throat, she whispered, “I love you, too.”

  Mahlah turned and scooted toward the tent flap to secure their dwelling for the night. She reached and took hold of the ramskin.

  As she did, a man’s rough hand took hold of hers.

  8

  Stifling a scream, Mahlah yanked her arm free from the assailant. Not wanting any stranger to enter her tent, she leapt outside. Hand on her blade, she whipped around ready to confront her attacker and shout for her kinsmen. A warning hung on her lips.

  Reuben jumped backward. His mouth gaped.

  His dark-eyed, dark-lashed gaze made her heart boom all the way to her belly. He’d always had that effect on her until his wedding day when she hid behind her father and vomited into an empty vessel.

  Hand to pulsing chest, she stumbled forward. “Reuben, I almost called a curse upon you, not to mention I could have summoned the whole camp.” She paced a few steps to calm her frantic heart and restore some of the energy that had dashed from her body. The slightest trade wind threatened to tip her over.

  “Forgive me.” He stood immobile watching her blow out breaths as if she had run a race. “I would have sought you sooner, but Moses called the leaders together for a council.”

  “It must be important.” But no one from her tribe or clan had deemed it necessary to include her in the meeting with Moses.

  “It is.” He straightened to his full height. “I have been chosen to fight for Manasseh against the Amorite soldiers.”

  “I see.” His announcement made her bones weary. The thought of losing another relative troubled her soul. Reuben was not like her other kin; he hadn’t spoken one foul word about her father. Not one disrespectful remark in all their growing up years or after her father’s shameful death. “What about Jonah?”

  “That’s why I’m here.” He ambled closer. Close enough for her to smell the scent of his freshly washed linen. “If I should die—”

  “Folly! Don’t speak as such.”

  He jerked at her response.

  “I mean, you will return.” She rubbed a chill from her arms. A dam of tears built behind her face, which caused her right eye to flutter. “God will grant us possession of the land. You will return and be greeted with honor.”

  “It’s my time away that causes me worry. My mother is feeble, and Basemath hasn’t taken an interest in raising my son.” He glanced at his tent as if expecting Jonah to come running down the path.

  “If truth be told, your sister’s only interest is in herself.” Mahlah had the scars to prove it.

  Reuben’s clenched-jaw grin made her love him a tiny bit more. Being the eldest children, she and Reuben had overseen their siblings for years.

  “Jonah feels at home in your tent.” He cocked his head toward the open flap. “Is it too much to ask for you to watch him as your own son?” He dipped his chin, and his eyes beheld her with a hint of sorrow.

  A few years ago, she would have given anything to bear Reuben a son. He chose another. Her desire was best left buried deep in her soul.

  She cleared the regret from her throat. “In our tent there are ten arms to hold your son. Only a fool would stay away from all that affection.” Her cheeks heated. If only he knew how her arms longed to embrace him.

  “Toda raba, Mahlah.”

  Under the moonlight, his eyes sparkled, and for the briefest of seconds, she didn’t feel like an awkward neighbor, but like a woman adorned with rubies and gold.

  “I will pray for your safety.” Her pledge caught in her throat.

  His gaze bore down on her like a judge. “And I yours.”

  Mahlah’s brow furrowed. “I am staying in camp.”

  “You are.” He flashed a rugged grin. “With my son, my sister, and four sisters of your own. War doesn’t seem so troublesome.”

  She managed a slight laugh. Did he notice her trembling lips?

  Footsteps slapped the ground. Two men strode past. Reuben stepped backward and hesitated.

  “Shalom, my mighty Mahlah.”

  “Shalom.” She watched him withdraw to his dwelling.

  Before disappearing behind a drape of ramskin, he turned and fixed his gaze upon her. The intensity of his expression made her breath hitch. Was that interest in his eyes, or were the shadows playing tricks on her? More likely, it was gratitude, or worse, pity.

  Head down, he entered his tent.

  An ache spread across every rib and settled in her side. Would tonight be the last time she laid eyes on Reuben? If it were, she would remember this night as the third worst night of her life.

  9

  The tribes of Israel felled King Sihon and his army in haste. God had given His people victory over the Amorites, but more importantly, God had given the tribes land and cities to inhabit.

  After Sihon was defeated, the soldiers of Israel met Og, King of Bashan, in battle. God bestowed another victory on His people, and He bestowed more land.

  Her Reuben had not yet returned.

  Mahlah and her sisters settled in Moab. The tribes of Israel staked their tents near Shittim.

  She remained true to her vow to Reuben and his son. She cared for Jonah while keeping her own sisters out of trouble.

  Their elder, Nemuel, rarely spoke to her about tribal business. Her knowledge of clan matters had died with her father in the desert.

  As the sun set, she clapped her hands and urged Jonah to catch quail. The boy ran in a circle charging the docile birds and herding them closer to the tents and away from the outskirts of camp. The waft of roasting meat from her kinsmen’s fires made her jaw pull tight.

  “Hoglah only needs one more hen.” She feared Jonah may play this game for hours.

  “Come here.” Jonah grasped a small bird. When it stilled, his eyes grew as big as walnuts.

  “It’s not going.”

  She bent low, took the quail from him, and slipped it carefully into a sack. “They know they are our food.”

  He cocked his head. “How they know?”

  Had she ever given God’s provision much thought? “Well.” Her mind filled with Moses’ teachings. “God sends us the quail every night. Those we don’t catch, go back to be with Him. He will send them again tomorrow.”

  “Same birds?” Jonah jogged toward a feathered straggler.

  “Ah, maybe.” Where was an elder to answer such a question?

  Jonah stopped pursuing the quail. He craned his neck toward the darkening sky. “Where God live?” He turned and beheld her as if the answer were simple.

  The birds in her sack squirmed.

  Her face flushed though the evening trade wind lifted her veil. “God is in the cloud over the Tabernacle. He is the pillar of fire that guides us when we travel at night. You have seen Him.”

  She had beheld these manifestations for seventeen years, but she had also felt God’s presence. He’d been in the alcove when she faced the thief. He’d comforted her when her mother died. Even when her father would not gaze at Moses and the snake, she had not been alone. How did she explain these feelings to Jonah?

  “God is with our men in battle. He is with your father now.” She tousled Jonah’s soft, black curls. “God is with us, too, sending us food.”

  Deep in thought, Jonah’s brow furrowed. He touched her bird-filled sack. “Birds go to God.”

  She snorted a laugh. “That is a question for Moses.” Dipping into the satchel, she lifted a bird and held it in front of her face. “Where do you go when you are not feeding our bellies?”

  The hen cooed a reply.

  “It no talk.” Jonah giggled and darted toward the neighboring tents of the tribe of Benjamin.

  Putting down the bird, she gave chase and grabbed Jonah’s hand. “Come, it’s getting late, and you have me speaking to quail.” She held the sack in front of him. “We better get these to Hoglah or our stomachs will remain empty.”

  A squeal broke the calm of the evening.

  Jonah huddled close, grasping her ski
rt.

  Two women emerged from tents to the south. An older man stumbled after them. He held an uncapped wineskin. Fermented grape juice sloshed on his hand.

  She tried to cover Jonah’s eyes.

  Mahlah recognized the man as an elder from the tribe of Gad. He had been at meetings with her father. She did not recognize the scandalous garments worn by the women. Skin and jewels glistened in the early starlight. Hardly any cloth covered the women’s flesh. A string of gold coins dangled from one woman’s waist while the other adorned her belly with a large ruby. Tirzah would have plucked that gem for fun. Praise be her sister was not here to witness this wanton behavior.

  The gold-coin-wrapped woman strutted closer, her gold-banded arms outstretched. She mumbled something in a foreign tongue and bent down to Jonah’s height, displaying most of her breasts.

  Mahlah tugged Jonah farther from the woman, putting distance between them and the woman’s wine-tainted breath.

  The harlot repeated her gibberish.

  “You need a man, not a boy,” the elder said. He stumbled toward the talkative woman and kissed her cheek. He glanced at Mahlah. “Isn’t my Midianite fawn a beauty? She wants to know if the boy is yours.”

  “He is not my son.” A harshness edged Mahlah’s voice. “This is the son of Reuben, Nemuel’s heir.”

  The man gawked as if she was the foreigner speaking gibberish. He snapped his fingers summoning the other girl.

  “I will tell her.” Wrapping an arm around each woman, he swaggered in the direction of the wilderness, his wineskin beating a rhythm against his back.

  Why would an elder of Gad keep company with such women? And to where was the elder escorting those pagans? No leader in camp would accept the display of bared breasts and braided hair worn as a crown. Wasn’t the elder worried about offending God?

  She shivered. Her father had insulted God, and she had seen the devastating consequences. Every day she and her sisters lived with the hardship from that decision.

  “I hungry.” Jonah tugged on her robe.

  “Yes, we should return home.” She peeked at her quail huddled in the sack. They acted asleep, but not Jonah. He watched her, eyes round and awake.

  “That woman thought you handsome. You remind me of your father when he played among the tents.”

  “Yes.” Jonah smiled and then darted ahead.

  Mahlah quickened her pace. She did not want to think about those half-naked women. The Promised Land from God could not be conquered too soon.

  She trudged past the tents of Gad and Benjamin toward the tents of Manasseh. Smoke hung in the air as her clansmen huddled around fires either eating or preparing their roasted quail.

  As she approached her tent, only Tirzah and Milcah sat in the cooking courtyard. A small fire blazed between them. Milcah formed patties of ground manna and oil. Jonah discovered the mortar and pestle and pounded air.

  “Where’s Hoglah?” Mahlah’s stomach gurgled after breathing in the aroma of charred meat.

  Tirzah placed a stone slab over the fire. She shrugged. “I don’t know where she went.”

  How had her mother and father overseen five children? Mahlah rubbed her pulsing temples.

  “Who wants to prepare the quail?”

  Tirzah and Milcah exchanged glances, but neither moved to retrieve the sack of birds.

  Milcah placed a manna cake on the stone.

  “Shall we eat bread then?” Mahlah said. “It’s almost ready for our mouths.”

  Opening the sack, Mahlah let the quail go free. The hens waddled away from the fire.

  Jonah jumped around the small clearing, flapping his arms as if he were a bird.

  “They go to God.” Jonah darted after the quail.

  She lunged and grabbed his hand.

  “We need to find Hoglah.”

  He wrinkled his nose and pouted.

  Why did she sense that somewhere Hoglah was making a similar face?

  10

  Lifting Jonah to her hip, Mahlah traipsed toward Nemuel’s tent. Jonah’s head and chest draped over her like a shawl.

  The tent tops of Manasseh rose toward a brilliant moon. The glow from the sky illuminated her path. Her sisters were usually home by this hour and resting in the courtyard. Was Hoglah hiding from her? They had not shared harsh words today. Or was her sister grieving? Hoglah had not shed many tears over their father’s death.

  “I tired.”

  Mahlah rested her cheek on Jonah’s head. “You have traveled all over this camp without complaint. Your grandmother will be proud.”

  Jonah nodded, barely. His hair tickled her face.

  Susanna, Nemuel’s wife, huddled next to a low burning fire. She removed roasted quail from a spit. The charred, crisp skin of the fowl caused Mahlah’s mouth to fill with saliva. If only Hoglah had seen to her duties, Mahlah’s stomach would have been filled with warm meat instead of warm air.

  “Jonah is ready for a night’s rest.” Mahlah jiggled her companion’s body. Jonah’s eyes opened. He glanced around as if he had woken from a dream in a distant land. She sat near Susanna with Jonah nestled in her lap and dipped her hand in a cleansing jar. “Eat some quail so your stomach does not feel abandoned. Then you will slumber until dawn.”

  Susanna scraped the last of the meat into a bowl.

  Mahlah chose a piece of roasted quail for Jonah.

  “Toda raba, Mahlah.” Susanna stroked Jonah’s hair, smoothing it behind his ear. “I cannot run after my grandson. God spared me from being a cripple after Basemath’s birth, but my legs are slower than his.”

  “Even at my age, Jonah has me lumbering like an ox.” She offered Jonah more meat instead of asking after Basemath.

  “He will be a great defender of Manasseh.” Susanna washed her hands. “No one will be able to catch him.”

  “Like his father.” Mahlah laughed at the memories of her childhood. If only Reuben were here now to chase his son. “I pray for Reuben’s return.”

  “I do as well.” Susanna’s brow furrowed. “My son cannot return soon enough. Jonah needs his father. And he needs a mother. One swift of foot.” Her kinswoman tilted her head and steadied her gaze on Mahlah before shredding the meat.

  Mahlah shifted her weight on the stool. Did Susanna believe Mahlah would make a good mother and wife? If this be true, why hadn’t Reuben sought a betrothal? Instead, he’d married another. The two-toned tent standing before her bore witness to the addition for Reuben and his deceased wife. Nemuel bragged among the clan how his larger tent would hold heirs aplenty. Nemuel’s line was upheld by one lone grandson. Until Reuben came home.

  If he came home.

  She shuddered. Reuben had to return. Living without him would be worse than watching his happiness with another woman.

  “Are your arms tired?” Susanna reached for Jonah. “I can put him on his mat.”

  The moment Jonah’s body lifted from hers, warmth fled. Emptiness filled her lap. The evening breeze chilled her skin, mocking her.

  Susanna limped under the weight of her grandson.

  Mahlah rose. “Is Basemath inside? Perhaps she can see to Jonah’s needs.”

  “I do not know where my daughter is.” Susanna’s voice came out strained but not by the burden of carrying Jonah.

  Is that why her friend was outside by the fire? Was Basemath not around to help her mother cook the meal? Poor Susanna had to capture the birds by herself.

  Where was Basemath? And where was Hoglah? Two girls of the same age. Two girls. Two troublesome girls. Two almost-women.

  Two women.

  Mahlah’s heart pulsed a warning. Not like those foreign women? They enticed a leader of Gad to leave camp. Her sister and Basemath wouldn’t have followed Moabite men. May it never be.

  But would Hoglah and Basemath follow bejeweled girls? Would they drink their wine?

  Oh Lord, when will we be settled in our own land?

  “I will make a search for your daughter.” Mahlah held open the tent flap for Su
sanna and forced a reassuring smile. “Basemath is not fond of me. If I start ordering her around, she will hurry home.”

  Susanna’s eyes glistened. “Bless you, Mahlah. I do not know when my husband will be home from the assembly.”

  Hopefully, not soon.

  Leaving the tent, Mahlah sprinted toward the Tabernacle. Would Basemath have gone to find her father? Mahlah stood on a crate near the embroidered linen wall and scanned the men gathered to seek their leader, Moses. No young women gathered near the meeting place. She inquired of a few women cooking near the tents of Benjamin. No one had seen two girls unchaperoned. Of course not. Women stared at Mahlah as if she were mad traipsing around in the darkness.

  She headed home with fears invading her thoughts. Thankfully, Nemuel occupied himself with his tribal duties and had not ventured home to find his daughter and Hoglah missing.

  “Oh Lord, watch over my sister and Basemath. Wherever their foolishness may have taken them.”

  At least Tirzah and Milcah were perched around a dying fire eating cakes of crushed manna and oil.

  Mahlah snatched a flattened cake. “Finish your meal and then go inside the tent.”

  Tirzah crinkled her nose. “Are you going out again in the dark?”

  “Only to find Hoglah.” Mahlah popped another morsel of bread into her mouth. “I believe our sister might be with Basemath. She, too, has not made it home, and Susanna is worried.”

  “You will need light.” Milcah stood and brushed off her robe. “I will fetch a lamp, but before I do, we must pray.” Milcah’s gaze bore into Mahlah’s. “Thieves abound in this place.”

  How could Mahlah have forgotten to pray? God had provided the quail this night. He had led their soldiers into battle. He was protecting Reuben. And he would protect Hoglah.

  She urged her sisters closer and clasped their hands. “Yes, we must pray. How foolish of me to forget.” Mahlah bowed her head. “Hear O’ Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord alone.”

  Tirzah chimed in loudly. “Love the Lord your God with all your heart.”