Kamose was left alone. He slumped against the wood.
Though he could barely think, he knew this was his only chance. Though he could hardly stand, he headed for the door. His legs agonizingly objected. He peeked around the opening. Keret argued with the guards while a woman tearfully grabbed at his robes. Kamose glanced the other way; no one was in the hall. It was risky—very risky. He had no idea where to run even if he weren’t seen.
Keret continued to quarrel. The words were Canaanite, but the fight was clearly intense, and getting more so.
A guard maneuvered away from the fight just enough for Kamose to see his face.
Aqhat?
The guard winked, then slipped back into the crowd.
This was a setup? It was worth the chance. What more could they do to him? He slipped around the doorframe and bolted away from them down the hall. At the end of the hall he turned right. Danel was waiting for him with a huge smile on his face and a pack on his back. “I knew you’d figure it out. Follow me.”
They turned right, then left.
Pounding footsteps signaled the pursuit had begun.
Yahweh, deliver me. I need Your power now.
Energy poured into him from somewhere, he didn’t know where. His heart pumped furiously. Sweat ran down his face. His chest burned and his legs begged to stop. He no longer felt the stripes on his back.
The spies had said the palace was in the northeast quadrant of the city. Assuming his cell was on the outside wall, and the room he was beaten in on the edge of the royal dwelling, he should be headed toward the center of town.
The guards would catch him any moment. They were fresh, well-fed, and they knew the layout of the palace. Kamose was weak, injured, malnourished, and unfamiliar with his surroundings. But he was running for his life.
If he didn’t get outside soon, he’d be caught again.
One more turn. Left, through a door, into the kitchen. Workers scattered, pots flew. It was a long room. At the end of it, a wooden double door. Danel threw it open.
Kamose rushed for it when his foot caught on something and he went flying. He landed on the floor, his arm hitting a pottery jar and smashing it. Bright red blood poured from the jagged cut onto the dirt floor.
He scrambled to his feet. A young kitchen worker, obviously trying to curry favor with the prince, had tripped him, and stood smirking, ready for a fight. The Canaanite swung his fist but Kamose ducked. Unfortunately he wasn’t fast—or alert—enough to duck the other fist, which caught his right eye. Kamose hit back and connected with the young man’s nose. The man retaliated with a fist to Kamose’s mouth. Whoops and hollers filled the room as the workers cheered for their man.
He didn’t have another punch in him. This was it. He’d be captured again and taken back to the torture room, and this time it was doubtful he’d come out alive.
Yahweh, take care of Tirzah and the girls.
Danel stepped in front of him, brandishing a long knife. The worker put his hands out to his side, palms up, and moved aside. Danel motioned Kamose toward the door, then backed to the entrance.
Once outside they picked up the pace. Kamose squinted his eyes against the bright sun, and within several long strides they were through the palace grounds, the outer door, and had lost themselves among the traders in the market. He placed himself behind several men, crouching, and watched the guards tumble out the door in the shorter wall that shut the palace behind him. They spent only a few moments searching for him, then gave up and returned to the palace.
He stood. The noises and smells assaulted him after weeks in the dank and lifeless cell underground. Voices called loudly for others to test their wares. The scents of roasted meat and fresh bread filled the market. People bumped and jostled him as they hurried to buy and sell. Danel handed Kamose a sack. “Here’s some food Imma made for you. It should last three days. Or not, depending on how you eat.” He laughed. “There’s some milk you need to drink right away. Here are two bags of water. I couldn’t find your dagger—I’m sure someone has kept it—but here are your sandals, and a cloak to cover your back, at least until you are out of the city. It may sting, but you certainly can’t walk around like that.”
Kamose’s chest heaved as he stared at the boy. “Are you sure you will be in no danger for helping me? They saw you with a knife.”
“No, I’ll be fine.”
“And was that Aqhat?”
Danel laughed. “Yes. And that was my mother, crying in the hallway.”
Kamose’s chest constricted. How many people had risked their lives for him?
Danel laughed again. “The prince loves my mother’s cooking. She’s the best cook in the city. No one will touch her, or me. Don’t worry.” He glanced around. “Put your sandals on. People are staring.” Danel slid over to another booth and dropped a few coins into the vendor’s hands. The seller wrapped up a large chunk of cooked meat and gave it to the boy, along with a fresh loaf of bread.
Kamose sat on an upturned box and laced up a sandal while he watched Danel. The boy was a younger version of himself. Willing to do anything to counter injustice. Compassionate. Fearless, to a dangerous degree at his age.
Danel returned with the food. “Here’s some more. This should give you an extra meal.”
Kamose rose and put his hand on Danel’s shoulder. “Why would you do all this?”
Danel dug his sandal in the ground a moment before he raised his gaze to Kamose. His face remained impassive but his eyes showed a deep loss. “You remind me of my father. He was Egyptian. He died a couple of years ago. He met my mother on a trading expedition through here and settled in Arad.”
Kamose grabbed Danel and hugged him tightly. He could not stop the tears from gathering behind his eyelids. “You are a very brave young man.” He pulled back. “Your father must have been proud of you. I’d take you with me, but your imma would not like that much, I’m sure.” He chuckled lightly.
Danel laughed through his tears. “No, she’d be very angry.”
“You take good care of her then. And give my thanks to Aqhat, too. I pray El Shaddai will protect you and your imma.”
“And you as well. Perhaps someday I will learn more about your El Shaddai. Good-bye.” He turned and raced back into the palace kitchen.
Now all Kamose had to do was walk out the city gates. He jogged along the street toward the main gate until it was in sight, then he slowed to a respectable walk.
He fell in behind vendors and traders and other visitors leaving Arad. The gatekeepers were more interested in those entering than those leaving and he slipped out easily. Once clear of their view, he pulled off the cloak and headed southwest as fast as his battered body could take him.
15 Elul
Tirzah set the plate of hot manna cakes in her lap. She brought one to her mouth, then set it back down. She looked at the people seated around the fire—her family. Slowly she drew her gaze from one person to the next. She cleared her throat. “I need to apologize to all of you.”
Meri blinked at her, a date halfway to her mouth. “For what?”
“I’ve been incredibly selfish. I was concerned only with myself, with my own pain. I was so angry and scared and hurt at losing something I had never had before, hadn’t dared dream of, I didn’t realize that all of you were hurting, too. I am deeply sorry.”
Her voice broke, and she swiped a tear off her cheek. “And I thank you for taking care of me, and Naomi and Keren, when I couldn’t do it myself. I don’t know what I would have done without you.” She put a hand over her mouth and dropped her head.
Rebekah slid Tirzah’s hair behind her shoulder and bent her head to catch Tirzah’s eyes. “We’ve all been in pain, habibti. It’s all right. We’re family. That’s what families do. You didn’t lose us when you lost him. It only felt like it.”
The back of Tirzah’s throat burned with salty tears. Again. “Will I ever stop crying?” She laughed.
“You will, I promise.” Rebekah hugged her
tightly, then handed her a manna cake. “Now finish your manna.”
“Yes, Imma.” She chuckled.
Meri giggled.
“Now it’s settled.” Bezalel laughed. “You’re completely ours.”
After the meal, Tirzah sat by the big spring where Moses had performed their wedding ceremony. She had faced the truth: Kamose was dead. He was not coming back. Only Yahweh could help her now.
Yahweh, will you be my refuge?
The constant bubbling soothed her thoughts and the breeze blew soft ripples across the water. The evening air cooled her skin, but the sand warmed her hands. She scooped a handful of the soft earth and let it fall between her fingers. No matter how hard she tried to hold onto it, she couldn’t keep it from slipping away. Like her life, it changed. Over and over again. Now Kamose was dead, but so was Gaddiel. Nathaniel was no longer a threat. She was free to marry again, assuming anyone would want to marry a twice-widowed woman with two small children who had married an Egyptian. That was unlikely at best. But she had Bezalel and Meri and Rebekah. And Ahmose. She could make it. She would not starve. She had a new family—and a home.
And she no longer believed she was unworthy, unimportant, unlovable. Kamose had shown her that in his short time with her. She was Yahweh’s child. She was as important as any of his people. Just because her stepfather and her first husband had failed to realize that did not make it any less true. Even if no man ever loved her again, Yahweh loved her enough to ransom her from Egypt, bring her to Canaan, and give her a new family—and Kamose, even if just for a while.
Meri was right, after all. Her story did have a better ending. She laughed. A real out-loud laugh. All the times she had scolded Meri for saying that. Maybe there were better times yet to come. Even if there weren’t, she’d learned to count on Yahweh. He was with her, would always be with her, and that was enough.
Twenty-two
Kamose slowed to a walk, glanced over his shoulder. He was out, free, safe. He could hardly believe it. If it weren’t for Danel …
Yahweh, rescue me … such a simple cry. But Yahweh had answered him. He had delivered him from trouble. And Kamose knew He had been with Tirzah, too.
Oh, Tirzah. He couldn’t wait to see her. To touch her skin, bury his hands in her hair, kiss her face. To hear the girls call him Abba.
He found a copse of trees behind a hill far enough away from Arad and collapsed to his knees beneath them. He wanted to sleep so badly. He reached into the bag for the food Danel had bought. He drew out the meat and fresh bread. The meat was still warm and tender, and the bread was soft. He stuffed it in his mouth in huge pieces. He downed the milk. He sat back slowly. The grass was wonderfully soft after the stone floor. The breeze felt good on his wounds. He reached around and gingerly touched his back. He pulled away and checked his fingers—they were tipped with sticky blood. The last time they whipped him was … almost a week ago. His skin was so damaged, though, the lacerations weren’t healing properly.
The sun had gone and the air had cooled quickly. Gently, he draped the cloak over his shoulders again and lowered himself onto his stomach. He drifted off quickly. He’d have to rise early to avoid the shepherds.
The sounds of sheep bleating pricked at the edges of his consciousness. Words he could not understand. No, go away. He wanted to sleep, needed to sleep. The noises grew louder, more insistent, and sleep was driven from his mind.
Images flitted through his mind. Thoughts slowly came together. Arad. Escape. Were they after him again? He didn’t need to sleep; he needed to leave. Now. He raised his head and peered around the trees under which he had slept. Thank Yahweh, they were only shepherds, and they were still far enough away. He grabbed his pack and cloak and loped toward the nearest rise, scurried over the top, and ducked behind. He waited for his breathing to slow, peeked over the crest. No one followed. He relaxed.
He reached into his bag for some bread and cheese. Although the crust was hard, the bread was still soft inside. He gulped it all, followed it with half a skin of water, and headed south.
17 Elul
Kamose stumbled and fell yet again. How long had he been walking?
He’d left Arad two days ago in the evening, walked two solid days, and today until early afternoon. Grabbed some sleep in a cave each night and started again as soon as the sun was up. He wasn’t making very good time in his condition—he was much weaker than when he left a month ago.
He’d finished the food Danel had packed yesterday morning, and he had no weapons to kill or catch anything else. The lack of sleep and food was catching up with him, and he had at least another day of walking to go yet.
He dragged himself to his hands and knees. Another cave was close. He pulled himself up and stumbled toward it. He’d have to get more sleep. And food. He needed something substantial to get him home. He was on his last skin of water, too.
He clambered over the boulders toward the darkened entrance. His sandal slid, and his knee slammed against the stone as his hands landed on a nearby rock.
Yahweh, I can’t do this. Please don’t let me get this close only to fail.
He knelt there, gathering his strength, convincing himself to go forward.
In the distance, thunder rolled.
A thunderstorm? This early in the season? Fresh water. Maybe it would scare some animals into hiding. He glanced around. Some lizards skittered by. They were unclean, and the meat they provided would not be worth the work, anyway. Birds flew south, away from the northwestern wind.
Thunder boomed again. Large drops hit his back. The rain stung, but would probably be good for his wounds. He rose as the rain fell harder, bent over, and let the water sheet off his skin. After a few moments he raised his face to the shower. He opened his mouth and drank in the blessing.
After he was thoroughly wet and somewhat cleaner, he continued toward the cave. He removed his shenti and laid it on a boulder to continue getting doused, then he went inside.
He lay down, though he would have preferred to keep going straight on to Tirzah. Thunder continued to roll. That was good—the noise kept him from thinking. His mind overruled his heart, and he got some desperately needed rest.
The silence awoke him. He crawled out of the cave. The sun hadn’t moved far. He’d slept maybe a couple of hours, but the storm had lasted less than that. The rocks were already dry, as was his shenti. The dirt was less noticeable, but it was still quite bloody. He tied it around his waist.
Water. There must be water collected somewhere. And maybe animals. He crept to the highest boulder and scanned the area. There. A pool. He grabbed his skins and jogged to the puddle.
He halted. The water was surrounded by sandgrouse. He had no arrows. How could he capture one? He went back to the cave and grabbed the cloak he’d discarded, ripped off a narrow length about as long as his arm. He searched for a couple of smooth rocks. He tied a small loop on one end of the cloth, and a large knot in the other.
Placing one of the rocks in the center of the strip, he folded the cloth lengthwise over it then brought the ends together. He put his middle finger in the loop, the knot between his forefinger and thumb, then stood and swung the cloth in the air over his head. His back stung at the motion. The sling whistled as it sped up, until he let go of the knot. The sling opened and the rock flew. It landed to the right of his imaginary target. He tried several more times, adjusting his aim for the inferior material and construction, until it landed where he wanted it every time. Then he jogged back to the pool.
When he neared the water, he climbed up on a nearby rock. He picked out a bird sitting apart from the others while he loaded the sling, then swirled it above his head. He let go and the rock sailed toward the grouse. It hit the bird squarely in the head, and the grouse toppled over.
At least he hadn’t lost all his skill. Kamose strode to the bird, picked it up, walked a distance away from the pool, and built a fire. While the bird roasted, he climbed to the highest spot he could find and tried to figure o
ut just how much longer he had to go to reach camp. And Tirzah.
18 Elul
Only a few hours to camp. The hours he thought he would lose to sleep and finding food had helped tremendously. He was out of the mountains, and on flatter ground he made far better time. He glanced west. The sun just touched the mountaintops. If he could keep up the pace he could make it to camp not long after sundown.
His thighs ached and his skin burned. His shoulder had begun to bleed again from using the sling. The softer sand was a welcome relief from the rocky terrain to not only his feet, but his hands and arms as well.
He paused to upend a skin of water. He took a long drink and even spilled some down his back. As he put the stopper in and tied it onto his belt, he squinted into the distance. He blinked and looked again.
His heart beat faster and his chest constricted. Was he really seeing what he thought he saw? The tops of date palm trees? Had he misfigured? He was closer than he thought.
He broke into a jog.
An hour later his chest heaved as he saw his wife sitting on the other side of the spring, her head on her knees. He forced his heart rate to slow as he circled around the water, sneaked behind her, and took a moment to calm his ragged breathing.
He stepped closer to her, still several strides away. Her hair fell in waves down her back, nearly touching the sand. The setting sun reflected off it, bringing out gold and red highlights. So beautiful. So close. If he could just … He drew a deep breath. “I’ve told you before, you should not be out here in the dark alone. It is not safe.”
He watched and waited as she raised her head and remained still for a moment, as if she couldn’t believe what she had heard. She slowly looked up over her shoulder, and her face lost its color. “But you’re …”
“No, habibti, I’m here.” He closed the distance quickly then reached down and pulled her to him.
By the Waters of Kadesh (Journey to Canaan) Page 24