“I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”
“It’s all right. I know you’re worried about Kamose, but they’ll be back soon. You’ll see. I think it’s wonderful that you let him go bring back the others.”
“Let him go? I practically begged him to go.”
“You did? Why? You’ve haven’t been married a month.”
“I know. I kept thinking about the children who may have fathers left out there.” Tirzah brushed tears off her cheeks. “Maybe I made a mistake. Or maybe I’m being selfish. I don’t know.”
Meri wrapped an arm around her. “Why don’t you take a walk by the river? You’ll feel much better. I’ll feed the girls, and we’ll be sure to save you some manna.”
Tirzah drew in a shuddering breath, and sniffled. “If you say so. I just can’t help thinking something horrible is going to happen.”
Meri rubbed her back. “Don’t be silly. Go take your walk. Everything will be just fine.”
Tirzah stood and headed for their spot by the river, guarded by the date palms. But the cloud of fear came with her.
Kamose stood up slowly to keep the hot metal from piercing his skin.
His assailant tied Kamose’s hands behind him.
“Are you alone?” he asked in badly-accented Hebrew.
He thinks I’m an Israelite.
Kamose wasn’t going to tell him otherwise. “Yes. I am.” But no sooner had the words left his mouth than another Canaanite appeared with a bound Caleb.
His guard continued to hold the knife to Kamose’s throat, his eyes blazing. “You lie! How many others?”
Yahweh, give me the words. “Only a few. We only came to gather our wounded.”
His captor glared at him, obviously deciding whether to believe him. He spoke to his partner in an unfamiliar tongue, then turned back to Kamose.
“As I told you, we only came to gather our wounded. We are no threat. You can let us go.”
The guard looked from Kamose to Caleb. “Not all can go. I only need one. You choose.”
Caleb stepped toward Kamose. “Kamose, you should go home. Let me go. What about Tirzah?” he whispered.
“I will be more valuable. I know strategy. I can figure out what they are planning. I’ll let them question me and then I am sure I can convince them to let me go.”
“What if you can’t?”
“Maybe this is what Yahweh has planned for me all along.”
“Enough!” the Canaanite roared. “Who goes?”
“I will.” Kamose turned to Caleb. “Just get the men home. Or it means nothing.”
Kamose trudged through the scorching sand and rocks, his chest and his legs burning. Kamose had slept little the past two nights, hiking for two solid days, pushing hard to find the men and get back home as swiftly as possible.
Home. The word hit him like a punch in the gut. Would he ever be home again? It was odd that home now was not so much a place as a feeling, a person. Home had always been a small room with his few practical and necessary belongings, a dwelling that never moved, to which he returned after a battle or a long day. Now, he wouldn’t care if it were a different place every night, as long as Tirzah was there.
He stumbled, coughed, tried to talk. His throat ached. He managed to ask for water. The guard seemed excessively annoyed, but stopped and removed one of the skins from Kamose’s belt, lifted it, and squirted water into Kamose’s mouth. The warm liquid slid over his tongue, and he gulped several mouthfuls.
The guard drank some himself, though he had his own bag, and retied the skin onto the belt around Kamose’s waist. He poked his blade into Kamose’s side and grunted.
Four other guards caught up with them a few hours later. After a hushed conversation, the first one shoved Kamose into a cave, and followed him in. The four others lined up at the entrance.
His captor, now apparently his personal guard, lay down and appeared to sleep. Kamose tried to do the same, but it was difficult to relax when trussed up like a bird ready to be roasted.
21 Av
Kamose plodded on. The brutal sun pounded heat into his reddened skin and sweat dripped from his brow and his shoulders. They’d been hiking for two days, steadily north and steadily climbing. The last half-day the ground had flattened and was less sandy. Lush grass fed cattle, sheep, and goats. Further ahead grass grew even more abundantly, and wheat, barley, beans, and olive orchards surrounded the city. A walled city, this close to the edge of Canaan—had to be Arad.
As they neared the city, the ground began to rise again. Soaring walls circled the city like oversized protecting arms. Towers stood atop the massive barriers, but Kamose was too far away to see if watchmen stood guard within the strongholds.
Reaching the top of the hill, he gazed at two open, huge, wooden double doors, giving a clear view of the main road cutting through the city. His captor propelled him through. Another guard joined them on the other side. They each grasped a forearm and half dragged him along the street. Several times he fell, his knees scraping raw on the pebbles.
Another half hour brought them to the palace complex in the northwest quadrant of the city, and a second set of massive wooden doors, these closed. On either side thinner, lower walls—but still high over Kamose’s head—stretched to the city’s outer wall.
Guards stationed on either side of the doorway rushed to the center, grabbed at huge bronze rings, and grunted as they pulled at the heavy doors. The hinges groaned at the weight, and the wood scraped along the ground as it reached the end of its arc.
The trio entered. The temperature dropped immediately inside the long tiled hallway with its stone floors. Small torches set aflame hung in stands along the way, casting peculiar shadows along with the minimal light. Open doors revealed dim storerooms, opulent bedrooms, large bathing areas.
An archway at the end of the hall opened into a large room with two golden thrones against the far wall. Not nearly as ornate as Egypt’s capital, it was nonetheless impressive for a city of its small size. Hand-smoothed wooden beams supported a high ceiling, and niches built into tiled walls held art—Kamose recognized vases and sculpture from Egypt and Canaan and beyond. He’d seen similar pieces in the palace in Pi-Ramses. Servants bustled in and out of doors built into three of the four walls. The far wall, facing west, had to be on the outside wall of the city, for all along its length tall windows set high allowed the rich golden light of day’s end to pour into the room.
In the center sat a stone, two figures inscribed on it, their heads stalks of wheat. One stood with its arms raised, the other lay on the ground. Grain lay scattered before it as if in offering. Could the rock be one of their gods?
The guards dragged Kamose near the thrones and shoved him to his knees.
A young man rose from the smaller of the golden chairs. A plumed helmet sat atop his head, and a silver belt adorned the shenti around his waist. He looked more like a warrior than a king—perhaps a prince.
He strutted toward Kamose, stopped before him, and puffed out his chest. “I am Keret, son of Ibiranu, king of Arad.” He, too, spoke in broken Hebrew. In fact, it was so bad, Kamose had to reveal his identity.
“My name is Kamose. I am Egyptian.”
Keret caught his breath and his mouth dropped open. He closed it quickly and crossed his arms. “Why are you traveling with the Hebrews?” His Egyptian was much better than his Hebrew, but still carried a strong accent.
“That is none of your concern.”
“I decide what is my concern!” The prince’s cheeks flamed red. He slapped Kamose across the face.
Kamose had struck a nerve. And he intended to keep poking. He refused to deal with this impulsive child. He would wait for the king.
“When are the Hebrews coming into Canaan?”
“They are not.”
Keret sputtered, his eyes flashing. Obviously not the answer he was expecting. “Of course they are. Why wouldn’t they?”
Kamose bit back a smile. “They are being punished
for disobedience.”
“Disobedience? To whom?”
“To their God. He is making them wait.”
Keret paced, hands on his hips, muttering to himself. “So, how long—next year? Two?”
“Forty.”
The prince wheeled around. “Forty?” He scoffed, walked away. Returned. “Forty? How can they wait forty years? They’ll die in that desert.”
That’s the point. Kamose shrugged.
Keret strode away again, muttering. He faced the throne. His hands fisted, the muscles in his neck tightened. “Either you are lying, or you are still serving Pharaoh, and spying on us to seek out our weaknesses. Whichever is the truth, you will tell me soon enough.” He signaled to the officers behind Kamose. “Put him in a cell.”
22 Av
Tirzah knelt beside Naomi and Keren as she tucked the blanket around the girls.
“Imma, when is Abba coming back?” Naomi reached for Tirzah’s cheek.
“I am sure they will be back soon. Maybe tomorrow. Give me a kiss.” She leaned over for her kisses, then stood and closed the fabric between the sections of the tent.
Tirzah emerged and raised her face to the setting sun. The pinks and oranges splashed across the tops of the mountains reflected the light in her heart. An owl skimmed by overhead, calling as it started its evening hunt. The breeze wafted gently through the rows of tents.
The rescue team had been gone six days. Two days there, one day to find the men, two days back. One day for any problems. They should be home tonight, tomorrow by dawn at the latest. She hugged herself, wishing for Kamose’s strong arms around her instead.
She moved toward the fire and sat, enjoying the quiet.
Ahmose padded up to her, smile on his face, a batch of wildflowers in his hand. He snuggled beside her, staying quiet, just sitting near her.
She kissed his head and wrapped her arm around him.
Caleb trudged into camp, covered in grime, shoulders slumped. She looked behind him, searching for Kamose, but saw only Joshua. When she didn’t see him, she stood, walked several paces beyond him, then turned to the older man, brows furrowed. “Where is he?”
Caleb paused before answering, as if searching for the right words. “When we found the men, they were in dire need of water and food. We had brought food, so after we tended to their wounds, we fed them while we sent four others to find springs. When they didn’t come back soon enough for Kamose, he went to look himself. I accompanied him, but we were captured by men I can only assume were Canaanite. Probably from Arad, the nearest city.”
Tirzah’s knees began to buckle. Her greatest fears were coming true. Was he never to come home? She reminded herself to listen to the rest of Caleb’s story.
“They wanted … they wanted one of us to go with them, probably to be questioned about our movements here. I tried to go, but Kamose insisted. He said as a soldier he would be more effective. He told me to bring the wounded home.” He touched her shoulder, and gave her a tender smile. “I’m so sorry. But he seemed quite confident he would only be there a day or two. I’m sure he will be back soon.”
Tirzah felt dizzy as the blood drained from her head. She locked her knees and forced her breathing to slow. There was no reason to worry. He would be back soon—Caleb said so. He was just a little late. Everything would be all right.
Joshua stepped forward. “Can I do anything for you in the meantime?”
“No, I’ll be fine. Thank you.”
Caleb bent to address Ahmose. “Don’t worry about your uncle. Yahweh will take care of him.” He patted Ahmose’s cheek and then stood and waited to catch her gaze. “He’ll be here soon. I’m sure.”
“I know.” She said it to ease Ahmose’s mind, but she knew nothing of the sort.
The men turned to go.
“Caleb?”
He spun around. “Yes?”
“Did he help?”
“Your husband?”
“Yes. Did he help bring back the men?”
Caleb drew nearer and smiled. “He was invaluable. He was the only one who knew how to set their broken bones properly. He was the one who realized how badly they needed water. I won’t say we couldn’t have done it without him, but I am sure we would have lost more than we did.”
She closed her eyes a moment and swallowed. “Did you bring them all back?”
Caleb winced. “Most of them. We lost a couple.”
Unshed tears burned her eyes. “Thank you.”
Caleb squeezed her shoulder, then they left.
Meri handed Adi to Bezalel and led Tirzah to the fire. “Let’s sit. Do you want some milk?”
Tirzah barely heard the question, but nodded, realizing an answer of some sort was expected. He’ll be fine. He’ll be back. She repeated the sentences over and over.
Ahmose sat next to her. Meri handed her a cup and joined her on the other side. “I’m sure if there were anything to worry about, Caleb would have told you. He’ll be here before you wake in the morning, you’ll see.” Meri patted her hand.
Tirzah forced a smile. “You’re right.” She sipped the milk and then set the cup aside. She smoothed her tunic, trying to suppress the thoughts that would not go away.
Adi’s cries drew Tirzah’s attention. “Can I hold her?”
Meri seemed surprised, but gestured to Bezalel, who knelt and slipped the babe into Tirzah’s arms.
Tirzah drew the child close to her chest and nuzzled her cheek. The fresh scent of the innocent babe soothed Tirzah, and her warm, soft skin offered an illusion of calm. Adi cooed when Tirzah kissed her.
Tirzah gently rocked Adi for several long moments, hiding her face in the baby’s blanket. Finally she drew in a deep breath, gathered her strength, and raised her head with her best smile. “Thank you, Meri.” She returned the child to her mother.
Meri rubbed her back. “He’ll be back before sunrise.”
“Of course.” Tirzah nodded.
She ducked into her tent. It wasn’t time to sleep yet, but she had no energy for anything else. She lay down on her mat and pulled up the light covering she shared with Kamose, and tried to shake the feeling of dread that followed her, threatened to overtake her, keep her from breathing.
She didn’t succeed.
Kamose had spent all night and most of the day in a tiny cell on the main floor without food or water. He was exhausted, but hunger and thirst, not to mention unease at what they intended to do with him, made sleep impossible.
He studied the room again. The only light came from under and around the door. It wasn’t much, and faded before it reached the far wall. No windows meant not only no light and no fresh air, but no means of escape. He ran his hands along the walls—they were thick, wooden, and impossible to power through, unlike mud brick. He couldn’t hear anything, see anything, smell anything.
He forced himself to sit on a tiny bed that wasn’t long enough for him to stretch out on in order to give his body a break, even though he felt like a caged animal ready to pounce, ready to destroy something. But even if he could find something to break or smash, that would only waste energy, and he had a horrific feeling he needed to conserve every resource he could marshal for whatever Keret had waiting for him.
Kamose stood as the door pushed into the room. Two new guards, knives on their hips and spears in their hands, moved behind him and ordered him out of the room. At least he assumed that’s what they said, since they spoke in Canaanite. Their gestures spoke loudly enough.
One ahead of him and one behind him, he was again led to the throne room.
Keret waited. “Egyptian. Still say you are not coming for forty years?”
“I do.”
“You lie! The fact is, you are planning even now to march north!”
Kamose remained silent. How do you argue with someone who refuses to listen to the truth?
“And is it true you now intend to take over my city, in fact, many cities, all the way to Lake Kennerith?”
“Not at this t
ime.”
“Not at this time?” Keret waved his arms in the air. “What does that mean?”
“Yahweh had indeed planned to give us this land, but we disobeyed Him. And now we are being punished, and we will remain in the desert for forty years.”
“Lies! That’s the stupidest lie I have ever heard. You are trying to trick me, to lull me into thinking you are not coming so you can take my city without resistance. It will not work.” He raised his finger and two men appeared from the back of the room—carrying whips.
Kamose breathed faster.
Two guards standing near the prince grabbed Kamose’s arms and dragged him toward the door. Before they could exit, an older man, dressed in a long robe dyed indigo, blocked the door. He glared at the armed men, who let go of him but stayed nearby. The man barked at Keret, who hurried over to the gathering, yelling back and hands flailing as he marched.
Keret and the newcomer moved to the thrones and continued to argue. The older man had rings on his fingers and a large gold necklace. His robe, and the tunic beneath, appeared to be crafted of fine linen. He shared facial features with Keret, but exuded grace and calm where Keret could not be still and constantly raised his voice. Could this be the king?
The guards moved Kamose toward the center of the room.
Keret paced with his arms across his chest, fuming.
The king spoke to the men with whips, who left the room, then approached Kamose. “I am Ibiranu, King of Arad. I apologize for my son’s harsh treatment of you.” His Egyptian was accented, but otherwise perfect. “We do not usually treat our guests in such a manner. I understand my son has already spoken to you?”
Kamose nodded.
“And you have told him the Israelites are not marching north?”
Kamose nodded again.
“Not now, and not for forty years.”
“That is correct.”
The king held his gaze for a moment. “You will now be seen to your room.”
“But Father—” The prince spread his arms wide, his brow furrowed.
“The matter is closed.” Ibiranu nodded and left.
So the man was indeed the king. And although Kamose was a “guest,” he was not allowed to leave.
By the Waters of Kadesh (Journey to Canaan) Page 20