Fourteen
2 Av
Gaddiel threw the seed of the fig he’d finished into the dust at his feet. They had been looking for the cave long enough. He didn’t see the point to begin with, and now they were wasting valuable time. And they were perilously close to Hebron and its giants. Every time he looked south toward the towering walls, he shuddered.
Caleb frowned. “It’s got to be around here somewhere. It’s north of Hebron, next to an empty plot of land.”
The sun was sailing westward and they were losing light. Joshua climbed up on a hillock and shaded his eyes.
“It doesn’t rise up much above the ground. Do you see anything?” Caleb called to Joshua.
Couldn’t he be quieter? They were probably far enough away from Hebron, but why take chances? Did they really need to visit the graves of their ancestors?
“Over there.” Joshua pointed toward a group of trees to the east.
Gaddiel rolled his eyes and hiked in the direction Joshua pointed, following Caleb. Down off the crest of the mountain ridge, the land was green and full of trees. The air was cooler; it even smelled fresher.
They reached a rounded plot of land, rising to near the height of Caleb’s shoulders. Caleb walked all around it, disappearing on the other side for several moments. When he returned, his face was solemn. “I found the entrance.” He beckoned them to follow.
They crowded before the small, dark entrance to the cave. The mound of earth, topped with smooth rocks, was unimpressive. Giant trees as old as creation itself surrounded the site like silent sentries. A breeze rustled the leaves above them.
It was impossible to stand before this burial site, this holy ground, and remain unaffected. Even if he thought the rest of the trip was useless, standing before the eternal resting place of Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebekah, Jacob and Leah, connected to a spot in Gaddiel’s heart he didn’t know existed. His skin tingled, and the other sights and sounds around him seemed to fall away as he concentrated on the spot of land before him.
Caleb’s voice broke through his reverie. “ … one or two at a time. It slopes down, so be careful.” He pointed down into the open mouth of the sepulcher.
Joshua and Shammua went in first.
The stories he had heard all his life echoed in Gaddiel’s head. Abraham being called by Yahweh, and Yahweh’s promises to him—promises to make his descendants as numerous as the sand on the shore. Isaac on the altar. Jacob and Esau, fighting over the birthright. Jacob working fourteen years for Rachel. Joseph and his coat. Joseph sold to Egypt—which started everything.
Gaddiel envied their faith. In all those stories, they talked to Yahweh, believed every word He said. Abraham ate with angels. Jacob wrestled with God. Joseph believed in the face of overwhelming persecution. Why couldn’t Yahweh tell Gaddiel more clearly what to do?
Joshua and Shammua exited, and Gaddiel and Palti went in next. Gaddiel dropped to the ground and followed Palti down a narrow passageway. Pebbles cut into his hands and knees as they crawled. His head bumped the roof several times, raining down a shower of dirt. The passageway spilled into a room tall enough to rise comfortably off his feet, but not stand up straight.
The smell of cold stone and stale air surrounded him. The silence weighed heavily. On each side lay three bodies placed head to toe on a narrow ledge dug out of the rock. Their names were etched on the stone above them. Gaddiel paused before each one. Careful not to touch the bones, he swept away a cobweb hanging over Abraham. Except for a brief time in Egypt because of a famine, Abraham spent his life in Canaan. Left a comfortable life in Ur and traveled who knows how long to get here because Yahweh said it was good. That kind of faith …
A squeak startled Gaddiel. A tiny white-spotted mouse skittered around a corner. Gaddiel took a step from Abraham to Isaac. Isaac had never lived anywhere else. He lived all one hundred eighty years of life in this land. He couldn’t bring himself to marry any of the women here though, and sent his servant far away to find him a wife among his distant kinsmen. Didn’t say much for Canaan.
Gaddiel moved over to Jacob. Jacob, too, left Canaan to find a wife. He returned, but left again when famine struck. Didn’t seem like the land was able to keep most people fed very well.
Gaddiel placed his hand on the cold rock above his head as he twisted to look at the matriarchs, each one faithfully across from her husband; Sarah, Rebekah, Leah. Jacob’s favorite, Rachel, had been buried near Bethlehem after she died birthing Benjamin.
His back ached from slumping and he crawled back out. He stretched, arms high above his head, trying to get the kinks out. An eagle screeched as it soared above him in lazy, ever-widening circles.
He thought about Tirzah and the girls—what were their names again … he couldn’t remember. Whether Gaddiel married her—and he definitely didn’t want to—or Nathaniel did, they were his brother’s children and therefore Gaddiel’s responsibility. He needed to make sure they were properly cared for.
He crossed his arms over his chest. Bringing them to this land would be a mistake. Nathaniel would be at war almost immediately and constantly. There were wild animals everywhere. It would take forever to get crops growing—what would they eat until then? They’d have to build houses and villages … and what if famine struck again, as it did for Abraham and Jacob?
He frowned and shook his head. It wasn’t safe. This whole trip was a mistake. Maybe the troubles so far had been warnings, and they shouldn’t have ignored them. The lack of water, food, the heat, the endless desert …
Joseph left Canaan. Well, he was sold, but when his brothers found him, he had them bring his father and his entire family to Egypt. When they left Canaan, there were only seventy of them. In Egypt, land of abundance, they grew to a great number of people. If they came back here, they would only be defeated again. This place was dangerous. Joseph knew it. Gaddiel knew it.
And he bet that deep down, Joshua and Caleb knew it, too.
6 Av
Gaddiel awoke in a sweat after fitful dreams of giants chasing him and chariots running him down. He sat up and wiped his brow, then put his head in his hands. He exhaled a deep sigh. They were south of Hebron; surely they were almost home.
He smelled grouse cooking over a fire. He was getting about as tired of grouse as he was of manna.
Maybe not. Nothing could be worse than manna.
He packed his bag, then headed toward the fire and filled his stomach with meat.
Joshua stood and addressed the group. “We’re getting close to the end of the fertile ground. Tomorrow we’ll be in the desert. If we’re going to bring home fruit, we need to get it now. Gaddiel, you found the grapes last time. Do you remember where they were?”
Of course I remember. I’m not stupid. Gaddiel had had enough of Joshua, giants, cities—of everything in Canaan altogether. He just wanted to go home and never come back. “They’re a little past Arad, in a valley.”
“We should be there by tonight. We’ll get the grapes and be home in two days.”
Two days. The most wonderful words he’d heard in a long time.
As the sun was nearing the western mountaintops, they reached the vineyard. Gaddiel combed the vines for exactly the right branch to cut. He raised his hand to slice one.
“Gaddiel, stop!” Joshua’s strident voice caused Gaddiel to jump.
What now? Gaddiel hung his head.
“It’s so close to sunset, I think we should wait until morning to keep the fruit as fresh as we can.”
“What? Why? There’s enough light and the moon is half-full. We can get closer to home before we stop.”
“But that’s it. Then we have to stop, and put the grapes down one more time. If we leave at first light, and push hard, we only have one night.”
Gaddiel sighed heavily. “It took us three days to get here. You think we can make it back in two?”
“It’s always faster going downhill. We can be in camp before sunset day after tomorrow.”
Gadd
iel shoved his knife back into its sheath. “Whatever you say. I’m going to at least determine which are the best grapes to take now, though, even if I don’t cut them, to save time in the morning.”
“Excellent idea.”
Thanks for your approval. Gaddiel returned to the heavy, drooping vines. The grapes had grown in the weeks since they had passed here. He pushed aside tendrils and fruit and looked for the right branches. Even a single bunch would be too much for one man. One bunch weighed a much as a young child and was much longer. And they were traveling farther. They couldn’t carry them in their packs, like last time—they’d be bruised and maybe squashed by the time they reached camp. To avoid dragging the ground they’d have to be held almost above their heads, and no one could do that for long.
He growled and plopped down among the trees the vines had overtaken. Tendrils stretched from one branch to another, even from one tree to another, spreading the fruit over an ever-widening area. As he stared at one vine hanging between two trees, its fruit swinging below in the evening breeze, the solution came to him.
He grabbed his knife and searched for the perfect piece he needed.
The squawking awoke him. He opened one eye to see a preying kestrel hover over the fields, searching for fleeing mice. The bright sun hadn’t completely chased away the night’s chill, but it was comfortable.
He’d been up late preparing what they needed, but it didn’t matter. He wanted nothing to interfere. He intended to leave on time and arrive tomorrow before sundown.
He retrieved his handiwork and returned to the circle of scouts to address the group. “Here is what we need to do.”
Joshua raised an eyebrow but did not interrupt.
Holding a long and fairly straight branch, Gaddiel continued. “I’ve removed the bark and smoothed this as much as possible, especially near the ends. We carry this between two men, on their shoulders. We drape the bunch over the wood so it doesn’t drag the ground. This divides the weight and makes sure the fruit stays out of the dirt and doesn’t bruise.”
Joshua took the wood from him and ran his hands along the pole, then nodded. “Very nice. Good work and great idea. Let’s get some men and cut some grapes.”
Gaddiel headed toward the vines while Joshua chose a few men to help him.
Igal and Palti showed up first, and Gaddiel placed the pole on their shoulders. “Someone else will have to carry your packs. Shammua and Ammiel, help me with the cutting.” He showed them the bunch he’d picked out last night. They held it high while he grasped his knife and freed it from the rest of the branch. Near the end it began to rip. “Don’t let it fall!” They dove to catch it before the grapes smashed to the ground.
The cluster safely in hand, the three of them struggled to lift it over the pole. Igal and Palti squatted to make it a bit easier, and finally the fruit straddled the pole and Gaddiel was certain it would stay there.
Joshua jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover. Let’s go.”
Geuel and Nahbi strolled over, packs in hand. Geuel frowned. “What about food?”
Gaddiel scoffed and pointed to the vines. “Eat some grapes.” Then he set off after Joshua. He wasn’t stopping for anything now.
Fifteen
8 Av
Standing on the hillock north of Dan, Gaddiel shaded his eyes against the bright sunlight. The twelve, along with Moses and Aaron, perched atop it, facing the assembly. The cliffs to the east and the low hills around the rest of the oasis made their voices easy to hear.
They’d dragged themselves into camp to cheers and slaps on the back. It had taken half a day longer than they planned, and they’d arrived just before midday. Before they even had a chance to wash their faces or eat, Moses herded them like so many sheep onto this raised portion of earth to report on their mission. Gaddiel just wanted to eat, sleep, and forget about the whole thing.
That would come later. At least he was home.
Gaddiel’s head ached as Caleb droned on. “The land is beautiful. It abounds with grapes, pomegranates, figs, and other fruit we have never even seen. We can grow anything we wish. We brought a sample of the fruit of the land.” He signaled to Nahbi and Igal.
The two lanky men emerged from behind the others, hiked down the hill, and waded into the crowd, carrying the pole, now bent under the constant weight of its bouncing, edible load. The crowd parted like the sea did eighteen months earlier. A few reached out to touch the grapes; most backed away, eyes wide, hands over mouths.
Ammiel bumped Gaddiel as he placed a basket full of figs bigger than his fist at Moses’s feet.
Gaddiel glared at the younger man, but Ammiel was far too excited to notice.
Sethur and Palti followed with a load of pomegranates the size of small melons.
Gaddiel dug his nails into his fists. All this produce was going to blind everyone to the truth. Yes, there was food. But at what price?
Joshua offered a couple of grapes to Moses while Caleb continued. “Grassy plains for supporting cattle, sheep, and goats are everywhere. Rivers, lakes, a sea to the west. Hills, mountains. Whatever anyone wants to do, it can be done in the land Yahweh has given us.”
For several moments the Israelites roared their delight. Men hugged their wives and swung their children in the air. Women cried in relief. Four hundred years of captivity and more than a year of waiting were almost over.
Gaddiel rubbed his forehead as if that would make the pain lessen. This wasn’t going well. He needed to say something before it went too far. He had to at least try, even if in the end Caleb and Joshua got their way. The people deserved to know the whole truth, and right now Caleb wasn’t telling it.
“Wait!” Gaddiel waved his arms for silence. “Wait! Caleb is not telling you everything.”
Embraces fell open, squeals faded, heads turned toward Gaddiel. A hush worked its way through the crowd.
“He is telling you only what you want to hear, the part that makes him look good. He’s keeping secrets.”
“What are you trying to do?” Joshua stepped forward, his spear tilted toward Gaddiel.
Caleb extended his arm and nudged Joshua aside, closing the distance between himself and Gaddiel. “I am not keeping secrets.”
Those closest to the hillock drew nearer, then whispered the conversation to those behind them.
“Let’s talk about the cities.” Gaddiel spoke through clenched teeth.
Caleb spread his arms and smiled. “Very well, let’s talk about the cities.”
Gaddiel faced the assembly. “The cities are walled. The walls are high, thick, and impossible to breach. We cannot take them.”
Murmurs and whispers rippled through the crowd like a wave on the sea.
A few of the spies moved to stand behind Gaddiel.
Palti joined in. “They have water supplies and are stocked with enough food to last for weeks.”
Joshua stepped to the front. “Yahweh has said He will be with us. We can take any city He has given to us. There is nothing to fear.”
“Nothing to fear? The people there sacrifice their children! They place babies on an altar of fire to their false gods. They will steal our children as well!” That was a stretch, and totally untrue, but Gaddiel knew it would get a reaction. And it did. From both the crowd and Joshua.
The crowd gasped. Women clutched their babies. Fathers grasped the hands of their children and pulled them closer.
Joshua pointed to Gaddiel. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard! You’re only trying to scare everyone!”
“Then why don’t you tell them about the giants? We all saw them.” Gaddiel raised his hand far over his head to indicate height. “They tower over us—they were three times our size. They could snap us like twigs. Each one had a long, double-edged knife strapped to his hip. They ripped animals apart with their bare hands and ate the meat raw.” Gaddiel glared at Caleb.
Joshua strode toward Gaddiel, fist raised. “You are lying! None of
that is true.”
Maybe. But it will keep us out of that terrible place. Gaddiel faced the Israelites again. “It’s true. They are Nephilim.”
Now the women cried, but in fear, not relief. Some fainted. Children who were old enough to understand ran back to the tents.
Caleb held up his hands, palms out, to quiet the people. “Men of Israel, listen to me. They are not Nephilim. Yahweh destroyed the Nephilim. They are the sons of Anak—descendants of Nephilim, and yes, they are large. But Gaddiel exaggerates greatly. They were perhaps twice our height, and they were not carrying weapons of any kind. We can overcome them.”
“Caleb speaks the truth.” Joshua pointed to Gaddiel. “He lies! They are not Nephilim! They are only Anakim. We will go and take the land. We can defeat them. Yahweh has given us the land. He has already promised it. All we have to do is obey.”
The rest of the spies moved to stand behind Gaddiel.
Finally, visible support. Just a few more well-chosen words …. “Obey? We obey, we die! We are like … like … grasshoppers to them. They would just as soon stomp on us. We cannot win against them.”
Joshua tried once more. “We will not be alone—”
“And they’re not the only enemy.” Gaddiel paused to let his words sink in. “Caleb makes it sound like the land is ours just by moving in. But the Amalekites dwell in the south, the Hittites and the Amorites live in the mountains, and the Canaanites have claimed the coast.”
“You don’t know that—we didn’t go to those places.” Caleb drilled a stare through Gaddiel.
“I heard talk.”
“Talk is not always true, as you well know.”
Gaddiel turned again to the crowd. Now for the final blow. “This land—this land that Moses sent us to—devours its enemies. Our men would be in battle constantly, our women and children in danger. Is this what you want? Is this what we left Egypt for?”
A dark-haired man in the front of the assembly stepped forward. “At least in Egypt we had food! And our wives and children were safe.”
By the Waters of Kadesh (Journey to Canaan) Page 16