Lioness: Mahlah's Journey

by Barbara M. Britton

  “There will be an assembly this evening.” She knelt next to Hoglah. “Moses is going to bless the lots that will determine the plot of land each family is given.”

  Noah’s expression grew serious. “Has Nemuel agreed to give us father’s portion?”

  “No, he has not.” Mahlah pressed her lips together. How would her sisters take the coming news? “He wants me to find husbands for you and Hoglah.”

  “Ugh.” Noah sounded as though she had ingested spoiled meat. “Where is his loyalty?”

  Hoglah hugged her knees and rocked forward. Shadows nested under her eyes.

  “What about us?” Milcah grasped Tirzah’s hand. “Who would we live with if you all are married?”

  “You would live with me. No one has mentioned a husband for me.”

  She pushed away the nag of regret and wrapped her arms around Noah and Hoglah.

  “We need not worry about the leaders’ demands. I have a plan to keep us all under this sagging tent top. Tonight, we are going to the assembly as the daughters of Zelophehad, and we will petition Moses for father’s land. God has put it upon my heart to seek Moses’ wisdom. Aren’t we as valuable as sons?”

  “In our clan, more so.” Noah slapped the ground in the middle of the small circle where they sat. “I am going with Mahlah to the assembly. We need land for our herds and flocks to grow.”

  “And our rocks.” Tirzah laid her hand on Noah’s.

  “I’m going. This is the only tent I want to be in.” Hoglah placed her hand on top of her sisters’ hands. “I was silly to believe that taking care of it didn’t matter.”

  “Don’t leave me behind.” With both hands, Milcah reached into the circle.

  “Praise be.” Mahlah’s chest swelled bigger than the ramskin walls. “We must put on our finest robes and hold our heads high as we address our leaders.”

  Her sisters scrambled to rise

  Tirzah nibbled her fingernail. “What if they don’t give us land?”

  What if they didn’t? The elders of Manasseh would blame her for humiliating them in front of all the tribal elders. Her stomach twirled faster than those Midianite dancers.

  “We must trust God to act. Are we not orphans? Five of them? Does God not expect our leaders to care for the orphan and the widow?” She prayed the vision she’d beheld in the clouds was not due to the strain of the past few Sabbaths. No one had been around to utter the words she had heard that day. “We are right to ask for father’s inheritance so we can remain a family and so his name will be remembered. Moses will be fair in his judgment. Our tribal elders will listen to him.”

  “Will Moses listen to us?” Hoglah’s question dribbled with doubt.

  Mahlah embraced her middle sister. “It doesn’t matter. God is listening.”

  21

  Back and forth inside their tent, Mahlah paced. “God of Jacob, give me wisdom. Is this what You would have Your servant do? I see no other way to save my sisters and carry my family name into Canaan, Your Promised Land.” Sweat pooled above her lip. “Cast out the tremble from my limbs, for my legs do not want to march me into a meeting of men.”

  Milcah flung open the tent flap. “Nemuel and Reuben are leaving for the assembly. It won’t be long now.”

  “Come.” Mahlah unfolded an alabaster-colored veil. “We need to change your head covering. We must all be a sight to behold.”

  “That is the same color as mine.” Tirzah shifted her covering as if it was somehow tainted because of the similarity to her sister’s veil. Her bottom lip plumped.

  “You can wear mine.” Noah removed her veil. “The scarlet edging will match your cheeks.”

  “You don’t mind changing?” Tirzah asked.

  “Not at all.” Noah secured the ruby fringed covering on her young sister.

  Hoglah shook out her robe. “Noah could wear a rag on her head, and still all the men’s eyes would turn toward her.”

  “Says the girl in the indigo weave who is as eye-catching as any woman in camp.”

  Hoglah blushed at Noah’s compliment.

  “No more fussing.” Mahlah wished her words did not sound so weary, but if she did not force herself to leave their tent in the next breath, she might be tempted to squabble all night. “We need to pray and ask God to open Moses’ heart to our plight.”

  “Shouldn’t we pray for all the leaders’ hearts to be open?” Milcah cast a glance at her sisters.

  Milcah was correct once again.

  “We shall.” Mahlah grasped Milcah’s hand. “Nothing is too hard for our God. He has felled kingdoms and given us walled cities to live in. He can change a man’s beliefs.”

  Noah sighed. “Pray, Mahlah, before our knees buckle from all our woes.”

  “God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob; You are the father to the fatherless. Soften the hearts of the elders to our plea. May we inherit land in our father’s name, so we can stay together as a family.”

  “God of Jacob, hear our prayer.” Noah cast a glance in Mahlah’s direction and nodded.

  Noah’s support was a fresh dip of water.

  “May it be so.” Mahlah finished the prayer with a mouth as dry as withered reeds.

  “Can I close my eyes in the assembly?” Tirzah winked one eye then the other.

  “Only when we are standing still.” Noah scrubbed a hand over Tirzah’s head covering.

  “Stop.” Tirzah ducked and ran into Mahlah.

  “Shhh.” Her sister’s playful banter echoed in Mahlah’s head. Didn’t they realize the seriousness of this night? After her request for land, the men may shout their contempt or hurl insults. Worse still would be if they hurled rocks. Protect us, God.

  Before Mahlah left their tent, she untied her belt and left her knife wrapped in her sleeping mat. God would be her defender tonight, not the blade bestowed upon her by her father.

  Mahlah ushered her sisters out of their home and led them away from Nemuel’s tent and through alleys toward the Tabernacle. As they neared the center of camp, Jonah came bounding around a corner followed by Basemath. Why were they near the tents of the Levites?

  “Mah-lah.” Jonah tugged on her robe wanting to be held.

  If only she could resist those big eyes and chubby cheeks. She bent and lifted Jonah, settling him on her hip.

  “Pretty.” He fingered her mustard-hued veil.

  “You look like a bride.” Basemath sauntered closer, her gaze scanning the line of girls.

  “And we are in a hurry like one.” Mahlah’s answer held a not-so-subtle warning that she would not explain about their appearance.

  A few men hastened by on their way toward the Tabernacle.

  Basemath’s brow furrowed. “My father is attending a gathering before the Tent of Meeting. Moses is going to bless the lots.”

  “Yes, he is.” Noah wrapped her arms around Jonah and removed him from Mahlah’s grasp. “We must borrow Mahlah for this eve. She will visit your tent soon.”

  “Soon,” Jonah repeated.

  “Come now.” Basemath clasped the boy’s hand. “We must sup.”

  Food was the farthest thing from Mahlah’s thoughts. Her stomach pained as if it were full of jagged rocks. She waved to Jonah. The boy’s joyous, energetic smile bore into her burdened heart.

  When Basemath glanced over her shoulder, Mahlah glimpsed a wetness in her eyes. That would be a first. Her neighbor usually rejoiced when others cried, except after the plague. Now, she rarely spoke and remained close to home.

  “Mahlah,” Basemath began. “I wish my father would value me like a son.”

  “I wish that for all of us.” Mahlah rolled her shoulders, trying to release a pinch in her neck.

  “Then go.” Basemath sniffled. “Why do you tarry?”

  Pressure to the small of Mahlah’s back urged her along.

  “Do not mention you saw us.” Noah wrapped an arm around Mahlah’s shoulders. “We don’t need an overseer tonight.”

  Basemath nodded. “I won’t.”

&
nbsp; Mahlah needed her headstrong sister more than ever. Marching toward the Tabernacle, she didn’t know how one sandal passed in front of the other. This camp she had grown up in, with its rows of tents and cooking fires, seemed foreign. Her parents no longer roamed these paths, neither her grandparents. Why did her sisters’ well-being have to be championed by an unmarried orphan?

  Nearing the entrance to the Tabernacle, she slowed her steps. Through the opening in the colorful curtain, she could see Moses standing before the tent where the Ark of the Covenant rested. Thick and white, the cloud of God hung above the holy place. She swallowed, but no saliva moistened her throat.

  Elders and leaders, man after man, faced Moses; his fellow leader, Joshua; and Eleazar, God’s favored priest. The scarlet, purple, and blue threads of the tapestry walls could not compete with the stones and jewels sewn into the priest’s ephod. Eleazar was a tower of blue, gold, and gems. Mahlah’s mustard veil, worn by her mother on her wedding day, was but a scrap of cloth compared to the magnificence of Eleazar’s robe.

  As she shuffled closer to the leaders of Israel, men turned to see who dared stroll to the front of the gathering. The growl of male voices hushed. A low rumble of mutterings began. Mumblings about her and mumblings about her father.

  Her toe struck stone. A throb of pain filled her foot.

  Twitch. Twitch. Twitch. Not her eye, too?

  “I don’t know if I can do this.”

  “Yes, you can, Daughter of Zelophehad,” Noah whispered. “You are the strongest woman I know, and we are all here behind you.”

  Her sisters echoed Noah’s belief.

  Mahlah rallied her spirit and strode boldly toward the leader of Israel even though her mouth tasted of salt and blood.

  God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob give me Your strength.

  22

  The last time Mahlah was this close to Moses was when her father lay dying. If only her father had glimpsed the serpent Moses had held high, this matter of inheriting land would have been settled. Her father would have drawn lots for a portion alongside his brothers. Being the firstborn son of Hepher, he would have received a double portion of land. Now she had to ask for something that had never been granted before. She had to ask for an inheritance, and daughters did not inherit land among the tribes of Israel.

  Nemuel stalked toward the narrow aisle she and her sisters strode. His sandals crushed anyone’s feet who did not clear his path.

  She scanned the crowd for Reuben, but he did not follow his father.

  Set your eyes upon Moses. He speaks for God.

  “What is the meaning of this display?” Nemuel flipped his ringed fingers at her sisters. “Women do not belong at this assembly. Leave at once before you bring ridicule upon our clan.”

  “Our father attended these meetings.” Mahlah forced each syllable through her parched throat. “I am seeing to my sisters’ well-being. We are the daughters of Zelophehad. We stand before everyone here as a testimony to our father’s lineage. Our future needs consideration, so we are here to seek our father’s portion of land.”

  Her elder scoffed. “How are you different from any other woman in this camp? If you desire land, then I will arrange a betrothal.” He lunged to grasp her arm. “Leave here at once.”

  She dodged Nemuel’s fat fingers as Noah blocked their leader’s advance.

  Mahlah removed her sandal and held it high above her embroidered head covering. She demanded a hearing with the leather that bound her foot. She had business to transact in this assembly. The business of a birthright.

  She glanced at the closest gawkers. “We have come in earnest to claim land.”

  Men gasped.

  “You are mad or drunk.” Nemuel reached for her hair.

  She sidestepped his attack.

  “Remove yourself and return to your tent.” Elders closed in, their fists beating the air.

  Noah and Hoglah gathered the young ones and stood back to back.

  Slap. Slap. Mahlah beat her sandal against her palm. Slap. Slap.

  The clop dulled in the dampness of her skin, but she would not retreat. She was the eldest daughter of Zelophehad. A daughter with no mother or father. An orphan. She had a right to be heard among God’s people and discuss her claim to land.

  “My sisters and I are due an inheritance. We are orphaned daughters of the Most High.”

  “Do you want to be struck down?” Nemuel’s hot breath swarmed her senses.

  A long-nosed elder wielded a stone. She darted toward Moses, elbowing anyone who dared reach for her robe.

  “Moses.” she shrieked. “I beseech you. Hear our plea.”

  “Enough.” Nemuel clawed at the back of her neck. His fingernails found flesh. “Curse you and your stubbornness.”

  Skin stinging, she bent her knees and let her weight drop toward the trodden soil. Sandal in hand, and hunched like a child, she crawled toward Moses’ feet.

  Moses raised the staff in his hand. “Let her speak.”

  “But, my lord, she has no standing here.” Nemuel glanced at Eleazar, dressed in his finery. “This matter should be decided by our clan not in an assembly.”

  Agreement echoed throughout the crowd.

  “Cease your complaining,” Joshua cried out.

  Her challengers hushed at the rebuke.

  “This woman has brought the matter to the assembly. It will not burden us to hear it.” Leaning on his staff, Moses nodded for her to begin.

  She cleared her throat and prayed her voice did not fail. Giving a brief nod of respect to Nemuel, she bowed and fixed her full attention on Moses, Joshua, and Eleazar.

  “My sisters and I are the daughters of Zelophehad, from the clan of Hepher, a descendant of Manasseh, eldest son of our forefather Joseph.” She allowed the names of her ancestors to rest on the ears of the elders. “Should such a lineage be lost as we enter the land promised by our God?”

  A man pushed through the onlookers and stationed himself at Nemuel’s side.

  Reuben! Would he be a voice of reason? He alone warned her about the counting of the fighting men. Oh, to have an ally in this place.

  “We have come together to bless the lots.” Reuben spoke as if he was the overseer of the tribes. “But we are not drawing them this eve. Surely, the clan of Hepher can see to this request when the land is divided.” Reuben gave her a reassuring nod.

  Did he expect his comments to be a balm?

  Her cheeks grew hot. Reuben’s betrayal hummed in her ears. His father, and their clansmen, would never agree to her demands.

  She stepped closer to Moses, her back to her clan’s leaders.

  “If my sisters and I are not given consideration this eve, then my father’s name will not be counted among the lots.”

  Another tribal elder shot to his feet. “Women cannot inherit land. This is nonsense.”

  “Silence these girls, Nemuel,” another shouted.

  Mahlah turned, breathed deep, squared her shoulders, and pointed her sandal at the closest men. If she wielded a sword, she would have pierced their robes. “My father deserves to be remembered among his brothers and among his clan.”

  “Your father cursed God.” Nemuel roared his rebuke. “His body rots in the desert.”

  She rocked backward, her bones unsteady. Her elder’s retort haunting her soul. “Hush your words.” A storm wind whirled inside Mahlah’s chest.

  Tirzah began to cry.

  “My…” Mahlah hesitated. “Our father grumbled at the hardship of life in the desert, but he still worshiped our God. A God we have remained faithful to in our wandering.” Mahlah turned toward Reuben as a witness to her testimony. “If what I say is true, then say it is so. Are you not our neighbor?”

  Reuben might as well have been a wood carving. He didn’t utter one defense of her father. Or her.

  Twitch. Twitch. Tiny tremors wracked her eyelid.

  She blinked away the weakness. She would stand here even if she were deaf, dumb, and blind and fight for her sist
ers’ future.

  “Someone, remove these girls,” a man yelled.

  Chants raised in assent.

  Mahlah beheld the gray-bearded leader of her people. Moses’ warm brown eyes held her gaze as if he remembered her tear-choked pleas over her father’s dying body. The leader’s face, etched with sunbaked grooves, bestowed on her the dignity of an invited guest. He lifted his staff, and the jeers rising from the crowd quieted like a brief rain.

  Eleazar, sullen in expression, cast a bewildered glance at Moses. The priest remained closed-lipped, deferring to his uncle.

  Mahlah slung her fancy mustard-hued covering over her shoulders. Mother, I am honoring my vow.

  “Leader,” she began. “You heard my father’s charges. God did not have the ground swallow him alive like others who questioned God. My father paid for his transgressions with his life. But my sisters and I are a wellspring of belief. We hold to the ways of God.” Mahlah turned and swept an arm in the direction of her sisters, their staunch line now curved and held together by comforting arms. “Behold the faithful heirs of Zelophehad.”

  “Get out.” Nemuel grabbed her arm with such ferocity, her hand numbed.

  “Unhand her,” Moses demanded.

  “‘Father.” Reuben’s plea muffled amidst the cheers and shouts of the assemblymen.

  Moses whacked his wooden staff near Nemuel’s toes. “Fall back. This woman seeks an answer to her request from the One True God.”

  “You aren’t going to grant her request?” Nemuel’s tone all but condemned their leader’s consideration.

  Reuben put a hand of restraint upon his father.

  Moses pounded his staff. “It is not for me to decide. The land is God’s to give. Are we not here to pray for His guidance? God’s ways are not always our ways. I will seek His counsel on behalf of the firstborn of Zelophehad.”

  Lord, grant my request. Spare us any retaliation.

  “But they are girls.” Nemuel appealed to his fellow leaders. “Men are stewards of the land. These girls have not fought for a single ditch. Upright men have felled our enemies. Not upright women.”

  Reuben’s gaze had not found hers since he had reined in his father’s anger. Her heart sank a little lower in her chest. What if God looked favorably upon her and Reuben did not?