“Uncle Kamose!” Ahmose bounded up to him. His dark eyes sparkled, and some of his straight black hair had escaped its leather tie. “They said there’s a spring! Can we go see?” The child bounced on his heels.
Kamose chuckled. Where did the young get their energy? “Yes, we can go see. Where is your pack?”
Ahmose looked from side to side. “I don’t know. I put it down somewhere ….”
Kamose folded his arms over his chest and waited. “When you find it and put it in the tent, we can go.”
“Yes, Uncle.” Ahmose scurried away and returned almost instantly. He threw his bag in the tent. “Now can we go?”
Kamose chuckled and tousled the boy’s hair. “Yes, habibi, we can go.” They walked north through the neat rows of tents springing up, then out of camp northeast, toward the sound of rushing water. The terrain around them grew greener the nearer they drew to the water.
A massive spring bubbled up through the desert floor. Date palms soared into the sky, bunches of round, brown fruit weighing down long branches toward the sand. Scruffy, gray-green broom bushes bordered the water on all sides. Brown babblers with curved bills and long tails bounced on tiny feet looking for insects, hopping around each other in an intricate dance. Petite scrub warblers hid in the brush, poking their streaked heads out for only a moment before pulling them back into the dull foliage.
Ahmose dropped to his knees at the edge of the spring and scooped handfuls of water into his mouth.
Bezalel grabbed him by the neck of his short tunic and pulled him back. “You’ll make yourself sick. Slow down.”
Kamose looked over his shoulder and pointed west. “There’s another spring further west, then two springs south of here, to the east of camp. And several more on the south side of camp that are smaller and not as sweet that will serve the animals. Joshua says we’ll be here only until we establish a camp inside Canaan.”
“It’s not as lush as Sinai, but it will be better than it has been the last two months.” Bezalel wandered off toward the eastern end of the large pool. As he passed a broom bush, a group of babblers escaped from the shrub, and Ahmose chased them into the shallow edge of the water, their chirps mingling with his laughter.
Kamose smiled at his carefree nephew, then raised his gaze and scanned the horizon to the north. On the edge of the foreboding desert, slopes turned into hills, and those turned into mountains.
Bezalel returned. “There’s a stream connecting this spring to the next one. It’s not huge, but it’s running water.”
“Depending on the time of year, there’s one running between all of them. This is a popular spot on several trade routes. It’s been fought over for generations.”
“Looks like the desert is coming to an end.” Bezalel pointed toward the north.
Kamose nodded. “Yes, they’ll have to choose wisely when they decide who will be first to go in.”
Disappointment pierced his heart like a dagger. One thing was certain. It wouldn’t be him.
10 Ziv
The shrill blast of the trumpet awakened Gaddiel after a restless night. He shook his head to dislodge the fog. His sister-in-law’s annoying little girl had cried most of the night. Even in his own tent he could hear her. Couldn’t they have called for a meeting some other morning?
One sounding of the trumpet. That meant only the tribal leaders were called to the meeting, not the entire assembly. Gaddiel sat up, stretched, then reached for the water skin. He took a long draw, tossed the nearly empty skin to a corner, then kicked aside the long-sleeved thawb he used for a light blanket, and crawled out.
Tirzah had already arisen and prepared manna. He grabbed a bowl and filled it with the warm meal. He stuffed it down, but the sweet flavor couldn’t improve his sour mood.
On the way to the gate of the tabernacle he caught up with Eliab.
“Good morning, Gaddiel.” Eliab’s strong, deep voice belied his age.
Gaddiel looked down at the man. “Good morning, Elder. Do you have any idea what the meeting is about?”
“We are on the edge of Canaan. I assume we will discuss plans for entering the land Yahweh has promised us.”
Couldn’t Eliab walk any faster? Old age and short legs—not a good combination. Gaddiel wanted to get to the gate and find out why they had been summoned.
Palti of Benjamin and Shammua of Reuben joined them. From all directions, elders headed toward the tabernacle courtyard in the center of camp. Within moments, a crowd of seventy sat in front of the western gate. Moses and Aaron made seventy-two: six leaders from each tribe—a head elder and five others.
Gaddiel rubbed his beard as he surveyed the men. The head elders were generally at least as old as he was, except for Nahshon. When Nahshon’s father, Amminidab, died, the eldership of Judah passed to him. Nahshon had proved to be a strong leader at the battle over the golden calf at Sinai, and even at the age of twenty-one, all of Judah was willing to follow him. Of course the fact that his half-sister had married Aaron didn’t hurt. Gaddiel scoffed. In ten years Nahshon might be a good leader, but now?
The other leaders were a varied group, some younger, like Gaddiel, some older. Together they ruled their tribes, settled disputes, and offered wisdom. Gaddiel was an elder, but only because of his lineage. If he were going to make a name for himself, this would be the time to do it. He needed to stand out. He shoved his way to the front.
Moses stepped out from the courtyard. He faced his leaders and smiled. His weathered face evidenced the struggles of eighty years as both prince and shepherd. “Generations ago, Yahweh made promises to Abraham. He promised to bless him, to make him the father of a great nation, to make his descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky and the sands of the seashore. He said He would give him the land of Canaan as an everlasting possession.
“Fourteen months ago, Yahweh kept the promises He made to Abraham. He heard our cries and redeemed us from slavery at the hands of Egypt. He made us His people at Mt. Sinai. And now Canaan awaits us just over those hills.” Moses lifted his right arm, pointing his staff north beyond the tents of Dan, Asher, and Naphtali. “It has been a long journey, but it is nearly over. Yahweh has given us this land. All we must do is go in and take it. I have told Joshua to ready an army—”
“Wait, wait, wait!” Gaddiel stood and addressed the crowd, waving his arms.
Moses raised a brow at the interruption, but Gaddiel pressed on.
“We can’t just go in there with an army. We have no idea what awaits us. We could be slaughtered. I insist we send in spies first.”
Sethur jumped up. “I agree. I’ll not let any Asherites attack without advance information.”
Joshua rose, spreading his hands wide. “But Yahweh has already given us the land. There is nothing to fear. It doesn’t matter what we find. Yahweh has promised us the victory. Remember what He has done for us already. Has He yet broken a promise?”
Murmurs of assent bubbled up around Gaddiel. “Joshua’s right. We must trust. Yahweh parted the Yam Suph, killed the Egyptian army. He’ll give us this land.”
Gaddiel was not going to let Joshua—another child, like Nahshon—take over. Joshua had taken all the glory so far—at the battles at Rephidim and Sinai, going up Mt. Sinai with Moses, insinuating his way into prominence like a Nile viper. Even his tent was next to Moses’s. Everyone in camp knew the name “Joshua,” and Gaddiel had had enough.
“No!” He pounded his fist into his open hand. “We’ve been through two battles already. We all know what it’s like to carry a weapon and use it on another man. We’ve all had blood on our swords, our hands, our clothes. If there is something we can do to minimize the fighting, the killing, the dying, why wouldn’t we do it? Yahweh gave us the power to think and to reason. Surely He does not expect us to run in blindly and risk our lives, risk leaving our women and children widowed and fatherless. No, we must send in spies.”
Eliab stood. “He makes sense. I stand with him. Zebulon will not attack without inf
ormation from spies.”
Nahshon took a spot near Joshua. “Judah stands with Joshua. We obey Yahweh.”
Moses raised his hand. “That’s enough. This will not be put to a vote. I must talk to Yahweh. Return to your tents until the trumpet sounds again.”
The elders dispersed.
Gaddiel winced. Perhaps he should have kept his mouth shut. He had taken a huge risk. But then again, without risk, nothing could be gained … and the gain he sought was status.
No matter what it took.
Two
Kamose slid his dagger down the length of the willow branch a final time, removing the last of the twigs and knots, making it as smooth as possible. He ran his fingers down the branch, then took an end in each hand and flexed it. Satisfied, he tossed it in a pile with the rest of the replacement poles. Anything to keep busy.
Nahshon strode toward Kamose. “We need your help.”
Kamose sheathed his blade. “Why?”
Nahshon picked up one of the poles. “I’ve just come from the assembly. It has been suggested we send spies into Canaan before we send in men to take the land.”
Fists on his hips, Kamose studied his sandaled feet. It wasn’t a bad idea. He would have made the same decision himself had he planned this conquest as a commander in Egypt. The problem was, he hadn’t planned it. Yahweh had.
He returned his gaze to Nahshon, and saw the same dilemma in Nahshon’s eyes.
“What do Moses and Joshua say?”
“Moses is bewildered. Joshua is angry.”
Kamose smiled. Anger was exactly the reaction he expected from his young friend. “What do you need from me?”
“They want to talk to you.”
“What can I do?”
“They want a professional soldier’s perspective. And you’re the only one we’ve got.”
“Lead the way.” Kamose followed Nahshon back to Moses’s tent. “What do you think should be done?”
Nahshon shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m glad it’s not my decision.”
They reached Moses’s tent and Nahshon pulled back the tent flaps. Moses and Joshua sat waiting for them.
Kamose sat on a cushion facing them, next to Nahshon. “I thought Yahweh promised to deliver the land to you.”
Joshua scowled. “He did, but the people are uncomfortable going in without information.” He threw his hand in the air and blew out his frustration. “They will not trust Him.”
Kamose turned to Moses. “What do you think?”
The strain of his decision showed in Moses’s eyes, and he raked his hand through the white hair that barely touched his shoulders. “I didn’t expect this reaction. I know the people have complained constantly since we left Egypt. But I thought once we reached here, where we can see Canaan, where we are two days from entering the land, that they would go in and take it as Yahweh said. I did not expect this delay.” He rubbed his hand over his clean-shaven face.
Kamose chuckled to himself. Moses had to be the only Hebrew who shaved every day—a habit he still practiced from his life as an Egyptian prince.
Moses interrupted Kamose’s thoughts. “What is your advice, Kamose?”
“Spies are a common military tactic. I have often been part of a scouting mission. But I cannot make this decision.”
Joshua repeatedly flicked his thumb across the tip of his spear as he looked north toward the hills. “Do you think it would help?”
Kamose studied his friend for a moment before he spoke. “You may feel it is not necessary. But perhaps the people don’t have the faith you do. You can see a future that does not yet exist. Most men cannot.” He shrugged. “If you let them go and see the land first, maybe they will have the faith they’ll need when it comes time to attack.”
Moses sat silently for several moments. Then he stood, pulling himself up with the shepherd’s staff he was never without. “We will send in spies. We must begin immediately. Kamose, I want you to train them.”
Kamose nodded. “Who will go?”
“Joshua will be one of them. Any thoughts on the others?”
Kamose drew a deep breath. “I think you need to begin making distinctions among your elders between leaders and warriors. Joshua is a good choice. He is a fighter.” He paused. “I would not send Nahshon.”
“Agreed,” Moses said.
Nahshon jumped up, eyes flashing. “Why not? I fought as well as any of you.”
Moses crossed to him and put his hand on his shoulder. “You are a leader. Your people look to you for guidance. We need you here.” He left the tent.
“It’s not an insult, Nahshon.” Kamose spoke quietly. “You are too important to risk.”
Nahshon sat and huffed, resting his forearms on his knees.
Joshua leaned closer to Kamose. “I want you to tell us what we need to look for, how to get that information, and most importantly, how to survive.”
Kamose nodded. “When do you want to start?”
“As soon as possible.”
“Is there a way to meet the spies before training begins?”
Joshua shrugged. “Sure. But why?”
“Men act differently in the field, around other men. This will allow me to get to know them a bit before training starts. I can meet with each one tomorrow, and the next day is the Sabbath. We can start the next day. We’ll meet north of camp.”
Joshua chuckled. “This is exactly why we need you.”
Gaddiel paced in front of his tent. It could go either way. If Moses agreed to send spies, Gaddiel would look brilliant. It was, after all, his idea. But if not, he would appear a menace.
His thoughts were interrupted by the call of the trumpet. Judgment time. He headed toward the center of camp, willing himself to take measured steps.
He reached the entrance to the courtyard. Moses was not waiting. The time stretched out. Where was Moses? He called them here; he must have a decision. Sweat beaded on Gaddiel’s brow. He clenched and unclenched his jaw, resisted pacing. His shoulders began to ache.
Finally, Moses emerged from the inner court. “I have spoken to Yahweh. I have considered the matter. I have sought advice.” He paused—for far too long—and looked at the group assembled before him. “We will send scouts ahead.”
Gaddiel bit his lip to keep from smiling too broadly. Tension flowed from his body.
“Each tribe will choose one scout, a leader. You will receive more instructions later.”
One scout? The strain returned, wrapping itself around his body like a snake. Gaddiel cracked the knuckles of his right hand with his thumb.
Outside the tabernacle gate the seventy split into their tribes.
Gaddiel turned to Eliab, Jacob, and the others. “I should go from Zebulon.”
Jacob snorted, fists on his hips. “Why you? Why not me?”
Gaddiel glared at him. “You have a young wife and a new baby. What would Miriam say if you went home and told her you were going to spy out a land full of unknown dangers, and would be gone for who knows how long?”
Jacob folded his arms over his chest, lips pressed into a thin line.
One down. Four to go.
Eleazar shook his head. “I don’t want to go. My leg will not allow me to climb those cliffs.”
Matthias agreed. “Nor I. I also have a new baby.”
Two more out of contention. Eliab couldn’t possibly want to go. Gaddiel tried to keep his face blank as he looked to his leader.
Eliab eyed Gaddiel. “It does not have to be one of us.”
What? Gaddiel raised his hands. “Who else would it be? He said a leader! We are the leaders.”
“There are others. It’s a big tribe.”
“No!” Gaddiel’s voice rose in pitch with every word. “It should be me!”
“I worry you want it too much. Why is it so important to you? We only want to gather information.”
Gaddiel took a steadying breath. He was going to lose this if he wasn’t careful. Keep calm, keep this focused on the mission, o
n the land. “I just want to make sure we get all the facts we need. This is our only chance. We need to do it properly.”
Eliab stared at him for what felt like hours.
The screech of a hawk overhead echoed in Gaddiel’s ears as he awaited the answer that would define his future.
“All right. You may go. If Moses approves.” Eliab stepped closer. “Be sure that is your only goal.”
Gaddiel put his arm around Eliab’s shoulders as they made their way toward Moses. “Of course, Elder. What else would I want? I seek only the good of Israel.”
The morning sun burned off the night’s chill as Tirzah pulled the pot of cooled manna off the dying fire and set it in the sand. She grabbed a spoon and ladled the mixture into three bowls.
After banking the fire, she turned to kneel in front of the girls, placing her hands on their shoulders. “I’m going to check on Benjamin, so I want you to stay here and eat your manna. Don’t move, understand?”
“Can’t we come, too?” Keren stuck her bottom lip out.
“No. It’s a long walk, and I can’t carry you both.”
“Please, Imma? Please?” Four big brown eyes pleaded with her. Eyes she couldn’t refuse.
She smiled. “All right. Eat your manna first. But I will not carry you.” She scrubbed the pot with sand while they ate. Then she reached into the tent to put it away, grabbed their sandals, then laced them on her daughters.
The trio set off south through the tents of Zebulon toward the smaller springs that fed the animals. She felt eyes on her, heard whispers. She kept her gaze straight ahead.
They reached the flocks of sheep and goats, donkeys, even a few camels, and scanned the area for her beloved Benjamin.
“There he is!” Keren clapped her hands. “Over there.” The little girl pointed toward an older donkey, watching them, his long ears pricked up at the child’s voice.
Keren started to run but stopped short and looked over her shoulder. “I can’t run, can I?”
Tirzah shook her head. “You might scare the sheep. Walk.”
By the Waters of Kadesh (Journey to Canaan) Page 2