By the Waters of Kadesh (Journey to Canaan)

by Carole Towriss

  “Igal, relax. It will be fine,” said Gaddiel. “You’ll see.”

  Closer to noon, the sun radiated heat over his shoulder. Gaddiel pulled his thawb from his pack and wrapped it around his head, using the arms to secure it. He craned his neck and looked up at the sky. The protective cloud had remained at camp, and after more than a year under its protection, without it his skin was already turning bright pink. The heat made it hard to think, and he had to be clearheaded. He needed this time to come up with a plan to take down Joshua.

  The easiest way would be to discredit him. That would be an extremely difficult task. Joshua was held in such high regard. To convince everyone he had lied would take a great deal of work. Perhaps Gaddiel could be sent ahead with Joshua, then he could disagree with Joshua’s report. Or he could simply tell everyone Joshua was saying something he wasn’t really saying.

  Maybe he didn’t have to convince everyone. Just a few. Palti had been a close friend for years. He would side with Gaddiel no matter what. If there were any kind of disagreement or challenge, Palti would back him up.

  Sweat dribbled down Gaddiel’s neck and under his tunic. He rubbed his neck and pulled away a wet hand.

  Maybe he could just injure Joshua, take him out of action for a while. It would be hard to do unnoticed. He could trip him. No, that would probably be noticed. He could kick a rock in his path, make him stumble. Probably not enough to cause a fall, though. Unless they were on a downhill.

  Maybe combine the ideas. Make him fall, get hurt, then when Joshua claimed Gaddiel caused the fall, deny it. Who would believe he would do that to their leader? For no apparent reason?

  But first, he would have to appear to be Joshua’s biggest supporter.

  3 Tammuz

  “Kamose, could you go find Ahmose? He’s been gone a long time.”

  Kamose studied his friend. Bezalel rarely worried about Ahmose.

  The boy was old enough to take care of himself, and he was comfortable with all their neighbors. And he was more Kamose’s responsibility than Bezalel’s now. “Does he need to come home?”

  “No, I just want to make sure he’s not bothering anyone, or hasn’t fallen in the spring, or isn’t hurt.”

  “Why don’t you go look for him, if you’re worried?”

  “I’m busy.”

  “You’re holding a baby.”

  Bezalel held Adi out. “Do you want to hold her?”

  He’d rather face an Amalekite. “Not really. Where’s Meri?”

  “She’s resting. Can’t you just go look for him?”

  Kamose narrowed his eyes. Was that a flicker of a smile crossing Bezalel’s face?

  “If he’s not at the big spring … see if he’s with Tirzah.”

  Tirzah. Of course. He would check the spring first, although he would bet Ahmose was with Tirzah, and that Bezalel knew it.

  Warblers darted among the broom bushes, and the date palms cast long shadows over the north spring. Kamose surveyed the area, but as he suspected, no Ahmose.

  He’d managed to avoid her the last several days, but as he strolled toward the area Tirzah favored, he smiled. She was beautiful, he had to admit.

  Beyond the trees, the girls squealed as Ahmose chased them with a palm branch.

  Kamose called to him.

  “Uncle, can’t I play a little longer?”

  He glanced down at Tirzah, resting against a log, her legs curled to one side. “Are you sure he’s not bothering you?”

  “On the contrary, he is a huge help. Would you like to sit?” She gestured to a spot in front of the log.

  He should really go. He had no reason to stay. He hesitated, then sat on the log, several steps away from her, resting his arms on his knees. While Ahmose and the twins splashed in the shallow river, Kamose tried to avoid staring at the lovely woman relaxing on the ground near his feet.

  Her long hair was the color of cedar, meandering over her shoulders and down her back. She seemed only a few years older than most women with small children, but she also appeared to carry the weight—or sadness—of one who had lived much longer.

  He cleared his throat. “So, Gaddiel is your brother-in-law. I thought he was your husband.”

  Tirzah nearly choked on the milk she sipped. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

  “When I first met him you were in what I assumed was his tent. You brought him food when he was training. You came to see him off.”

  Tirzah scoffed. “Gaddiel was my husband’s brother. When Jediel died at Sinai, everything passed to him, so I have to stay near.”

  “Why? Didn’t you get anything?”

  She traced the edge of the cup with her finger. “In Israel, everything revolves around the tribe, and the men in it. Since I have no son, it all went to his brother in order to stay in the family. He let me keep the tent, our donkey, and a sheep. In exchange, I cook and clean for him.”

  Kamose’s anger at Gaddiel collided with his astonishment at her unquestioning acceptance of her situation. Every time he thought he understood how things worked in Israel … better change the subject.

  “Your daughters are adorable. How old are they?”

  “They were born three summers ago.”

  “They look just like you.”

  “Oh, no, they don’t. They’re beautiful.”

  Was she just fishing for compliments? No, she continued to watch her children, smiling. She didn’t even look up. His gaze moved from her to the girls and back. How could she not see the resemblance? Surely she had seen her reflection. Polished bronze mirrors were common in Egypt, even among the peasants and slaves.

  The girls laughed and called to one another and to Ahmose. Keren clambered over a log, fell down, scrambled up, and ran off. Naomi squatted in a clump of wild desert flowers, her nose stuck deep into one.

  “They are not very similar, are they?” Kamose said.

  Tirzah laughed. “No, they’re not. It’s hard to believe they’re twins sometimes. Or even sisters. But they are very good to each other. Keren takes care of Naomi, since Naomi tends to be more fearful.”

  “She’s a good sister.” Kamose picked at the log with his thumb. He was used to orders, commands—either giving them or following them. Not conversation with no purpose. “Do you have any sisters? Brothers?”

  “I have a sister and two much older brothers.”

  “What’s your sister’s name? What’s she like?”

  “Her name is Hannah. She’s always been the pretty one. She’s younger than I am, but she married first, which is not our tradition. But she was so lovely, and clever, everyone wanted her. She had so many young men after her, she had difficulty choosing.”

  “Did you get along?”

  Tirzah was quiet for a moment. “She was a good sister, too. Actually she was my half-sister. My father died the summer I was five. My mother married again, and Hannah is my stepfather’s daughter. We had many happy times together, until …”

  “Until …?”

  Her eyes blinked rapidly. “Until all the boys started competing for her. Then she had no time for me. I was just … left behind. But part of it was my choice.”

  “How so?”

  “I chose to care for my mother. She was quite ill by then. My father was gone, and my brothers … I couldn’t bear to lose her, too. I didn’t make myself very available to anyone. I stayed inside with her.” She picked at her tunic. “Most of the boys wouldn’t have known I was around, even if I had been pretty and charming, like Hannah.”

  If?

  Tirzah looked up, over her shoulder. “What about your family?”

  Ahmose’s mother flashed through Kamose’s mind. “I had one sister and many brothers. My parents are still alive.” He paused. “At least they were when we left Egypt.”

  She twisted around to face him more squarely. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think before I asked.” Her honey-colored eyes held his.

  “It’s all right. We’ve all lost someone. It always hurts.”

 
“Not always.” Tirzah lifted one shoulder.

  Strange reaction. Why would it not hurt? What could she mean by that?

  Tirzah brought herself to her feet in one graceful motion and adjusted the sash around her tunic. “I think it’s time for us to return to our tent. I need to prepare our evening meal.” She smiled—a sincere smile, but still guarded. “Thank you for letting Ahmose play with them again. It really is very nice for me, and they enjoy it, too. There aren’t many children allowed to play with them.”

  Kamose stood as well and called to Ahmose.

  The boy came running, the girls behind him. He had two handfuls of dates. “We picked these for you.” Holding his hands out, he beamed at Tirzah.

  “Thank you, habibi. That’s very thoughtful. You are such a delight.” She kissed the top of his head, and his cheeks colored. Then she nodded to Kamose and started for her tent, girls trailing behind.

  He couldn’t begin to understand the beautiful woman with the long brown hair. He’d never known anyone so cautious, so detached, except perhaps himself. But he’d trained hard to be that way, and for good reasons. Emotion was dangerous in battle.

  What could have caused her to be so wary? The only one she seemed to respond to was Ahmose. Then again, Ahmose brought that out in everyone.

  For now, Bezalel said they needed to look after her while Gaddiel was gone, and Kamose would do what his friend had asked. It was all he knew to do.

  He smiled. At least it would be a pleasant task.

  4 Tammuz

  The flames settled down, and Tirzah used a stick to nudge the rocks around the fire closer together before she set the pot on them. She sat back and stared at the water as she waited for it to boil.

  “Tirzah? May I join you?” A few strides away, Meri waited with a broad smile. She was much too cheerful for this early in the morning.

  “Of course. Did you already eat?”

  “Yes, Adi was up before the sun.” Meri dropped to the ground next to Tirzah.

  “Where is she now?” Tirzah yawned.

  “Bezalel has her.”

  “He seems like a good husband.” Tirzah poured the manna into the bubbling water.

  “He is. When I first came to the palace, I never thought I would end up with anyone like him in my life.”

  Tirzah frowned and pointed a finger at her new friend. “Don’t start.”

  “Start what?”

  “The ‘Yahweh has a plan’ speech again.”

  Meri grinned. “All right, I won’t.”

  Tirzah pushed her hair behind her ear. “But you still think He does.”

  Meri shrugged. “I heard Kamose came to visit you yesterday.”

  “He did.”

  “And what do you think?”

  “Of …?” Tirzah stirred the manna.

  “Of Kamose?”

  “What about him?” She avoided looking at Meri.

  “I think he might be interested in you.”

  Tirzah stopped stirring and looked Meri in the eyes. “Why would he be?”

  “Because you’re pleasant to talk to, you’re very pretty, you’re nice …”

  “I’m certain he could find any number of much prettier and fascinating girls who would be happy to return his attentions.”

  Meri frowned. “So, you’re not interested at all.”

  “Of course not. Besides, I’m quite sure you’re wrong.”

  Meri bent her head as if to catch Tirzah’s gaze. “About what? That you are interested in him, or that he is interested in you?”

  “Both. Now please, find something else to talk about.” The girl never gives up.

  “All right. How is Naomi doing?”

  Tirzah sighed and rested her forearms on her knees. “About the same. Still waking up several times most nights.”

  Meri placed her hand on Tirzah’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

  “I don’t think so. I keep hoping she’ll just grow out of it.”

  Meri gasped. “I have an idea.”

  Tirzah looked up. Meri was sitting with her hands clasped at her chest, eyes wide and bright as a child given a new toy. “Why don’t you move into Rebekah’s tent? She’s always with the midwives, and even if she comes back it’s only for a night or two, and she’d be delighted to stay with you and help. Then you won’t be all by yourself, and we can all help you with the twins. It will be wonderful.” Meri beamed.

  Tirzah shook her head. “Why would you do that?”

  “Why not?” Meri spread her hands.

  Tirzah shook her head again. “No. I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”

  Meri’s face fell. “Why?”

  “We’ll be moving again when the spies come home, the girls are settled here, and I don’t want them to get close to a bunch of people they’ll just have to say good-bye to. They’ve already gotten so attached to Ahmose, I don’t know how I’ll tell them they’ll never see him again once we get to Canaan.”

  “But how can you be sure of that?”

  Could she really not see it? Tirzah took Meri’s hands in hers. “Meri, you know they’re dividing the land by tribe. I am part of Zebulon, and you are Judah.” She stared at the girl until she was certain she understood.

  “I know.” Meri’s voice was so soft Tirzah could barely hear her.

  Keren stumbled out of the tent, with Naomi only a few steps behind.

  Meri pushed herself up. “I guess I’ll let you feed them. Will I see you later?”

  “I hope so.” Tirzah waved as Meri walked away backwards. She tried to smile, but it was halfhearted at best.

  After a few steps, Meri turned around and trudged toward Judah, head down, shoulders slumped.

  Tirzah’s stomach cringed a little, but it was about time that girl realized not everything worked out for the best.

  “By tonight we should reach Arad. Depending on its layout, we can get close enough under cover of darkness to see what lies inside the city. As soon as we see dwellings, we stop and wait until the sun sets. Everyone understand?” Caleb looked around the group, waiting for assent from each one.

  Gaddiel barely nodded.

  “Pack up. We move now.” Caleb stood and kicked sand over the fire.

  Gaddiel stuffed the last of the sandgrouse in his mouth and threw the bones into the dying flames. He slung his pack over his shoulder and started north, not waiting for Caleb or Joshua.

  Later, as the day drew to a close, Gaddiel crawled on his belly and shouldered a spot between Caleb and Joshua, who peered at the city through a pair of low bushes.

  Caleb shoved Gaddiel’s head to the ground. “Are you trying to get us all killed?” Caleb backed away, Joshua following.

  Gaddiel surveyed the city on the hill before him. Wheat, barley, and beans grew in the valley before it. Earthen dams collected water for olive orchards. Goats, sheep, and cattle grazed freely on abundant grass all around.

  But beyond the grass and fruit trees, livestock, and children running and laughing, Arad itself lay inside a wall that looked to be wider than Gaddiel was tall. Towers loomed above at regular intervals. Two gates stood open but were well guarded. His heart sank within his chest like a load of mud bricks.

  Palti and Shammua joined him.

  “Keep your heads down,” he whispered.

  A caravan spilled from the city. Traders with camels piled with cloth goods, traders carrying produce, traders with baskets of who knew what, filed out of the gate. The sun ducked behind the horizon. The gates shut like a huge maw, securing the inhabitants of Arad safely inside.

  But as he nurtured his frustration, Gaddiel saw a way in. He backed down the rise and rushed over to Joshua and Caleb. “I know how we get more information.”

  Caleb peered over his shoulder. “How’s that?”

  “We go in disguised as traders. We just saw a huge string of them come out. They obviously go in some time during the day and are expelled at night before the gates close.”
r />   Joshua rolled on his back and pursed his lips. “We don’t have anything to trade. We don’t look anything like traders.”

  “Some had produce. We passed grape vineyards, and I don’t see any grapes growing outside the city. We can get some. We combine clothing to look more like traders.”

  Caleb nodded. “Very well, Gaddiel. Take five men with you. Gather the grapes and whatever else you think we can sell. Return quickly. We’ll try to ready the clothes.”

  “Fine. I need everyone’s packs.”

  Caleb emptied his pack and handed it to Gaddiel. Joshua did the same.

  After an hour of walking, Gaddiel found the grapes. He reached up and sawed at the biggest vine. Heavy and sagging with grapes, it broke before he finished and collapsed, knocking him to the ground.

  Palti burst into laughter.

  Gaddiel shoved the vine off his chest. “Shut up, Palti.”

  Palti offered him a hand up, still chuckling. “But it was funny.”

  “I suppose.” He grabbed a piece of fruit. “Look at these. They’re twice the size of any grapes we ever saw in Egypt. But it’s these clusters—they grow so large. We’ll have to break them up.” He bit into a grape and the juice ran down his chin. “They’re delicious, too. We should get a good price.” He laughed as he wrestled with the lengthy vine bursting with grapes. Loaded with all the fruit they could carry in packs and on their shoulders, the spies turned back to camp.

  An hour later, Gaddiel dropped a few grapes into Caleb’s open hand.

  Caleb laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “Excellent. We’ve arranged the disguises, enough for four of us. You, me, Joshua, and one other. Do you have a choice?”

  “Palti.”

  “Very well. Get some sleep. We don’t know when the traders enter, so we have to be ready at first light.”

  Gaddiel dropped onto his mat, suppressing a grin. Joshua and Caleb had done what he said, almost without question. It was a powerful feeling.

  Joshua shook Gaddiel awake early, and they ate quickly. The four trader-spies each carried three packs to hold all the fruit. Geuel had brought an extra robe, which they ripped up to make belts. When they tied the belts over their thawbs, they looked very much like the traders they had seen entering Arad.