How could she not?
She turned to face him. “I think you have to go.”
“Go where?”
“Go after the wounded men.”
He shook his head. “I already told them no.”
Tears gathered behind her eyes, and her throat burned. Her stomach ached.
He grasped her shoulders. “Habibti, I told them I wouldn’t go.”
She placed her hands on his cheeks. “I know, and I love you for it. Believe me, I don’t want you to go. But I think you have to.”
“I don’t understand. You’re not making sense.”
Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I keep thinking about their children.”
“Whose children?”
“The children of the men still out there. If they have a chance to come home, you have to make sure they do.”
He wiped her tears away. “Joshua and Caleb can do that. They don’t need me.”
“I’m sure they are very capable. But if you can help, you must.”
“I promised I would stay with you.”
“You have to bring them home,” she whispered.
He stared at her, shook his head. “Are you sure?”
Hot tears rolled down her cheeks. She called up the picture of crying children one more time. “Yes. I am.”
Kamose lay awake for several hours, then, after making sure Tirzah was sound asleep, grabbed a small bag from the corner of his tent, slipped out, and made his way to Joshua and Moses’s tent. “Moses?”
No response.
“Moses?”
Joshua poked his head out. “Kamose?” He exited and stood outside the doorway, rubbing his eyes. “What do you want?”
“I have decided to go with you tomorrow.”
“You have? What changed your mind?”
“Tirzah.”
Joshua smiled. “Really? I must get to know her better. But Moses isn’t here. I think he went to the tabernacle.”
“Has he been gone long?”
“A good while. He should be back soon, but you know him. …”
Kamose nodded. “I’ll try later.”
He ambled back toward his tent. Outside Bezalel’s tent, he called for his friend.
Bezalel peeked out. “Kamose?” He emerged, then motioned Kamose away from the tent opening. “It’s very late. What’s wrong?”
“Moses asked me to help bring back some of the injured the group left behind. At first I said no, but Tirzah convinced me to go. I leave in the morning.”
“Well, we’ll take good care of her and the girls. You don’t have to worry about them.”
“I know you will. That’s not why I’m here.”
Bezalel furrowed his brow. “Then what do you need?”
“Tirzah never had the proper bridal jewelry. Her stepfather didn’t see to it, and of course when she married me…” Kamose reached into the bag and pulled out his armbands. “If I don’t come back …” He swallowed.
Bezalel shook his head. “Kamose—”
Kamose held up his hand. “If I don’t come back, I want you to make her something beautiful from these. I know what you are capable of. I want your best for her.”
“She’ll have it. But you’ll be back.”
“Create something worthy of her, then keep the rest for when the girls need it.” He placed the bag in Bezalel’s hand and closed his fingers over it. “Unless Tirzah finds someone else to marry—and I doubt she’d trust anyone again—I want your word you’ll make sure the girls find husbands who worship Yahweh and will treat them well. Just as you would for Adi.”
“Kamose, if not for you, I would not have Meri, or Adi. I owe you my life, in many ways. I promise I will make sure Tirzah is safe, and take care of the girls as my own.”
Kamose released a long breath. “This is why I never married. I can’t do these two things at once. I have to figure out how to concentrate on the mission, or I’ll put us all in danger.”
“Yahweh will watch over you, I am sure.” Bezalel paused. “When Sabba died, and then Yahweh asked me to build the tabernacle, I couldn’t understand how He could ask something so important of me after such a huge loss. You remember how angry I was.”
Kamose nodded. “You were quite a sight after your night on the mountain.”
“What I learned was that Yahweh has His reasons, no matter how hard they are for us to understand. I still don’t know why He took Sabba from me. I don’t know why you should go on this mission. But I know that if you believe He has asked you to do this, you have to trust Him. It’s much better than fighting Him.”
Kamose wandered toward the tabernacle. Much better than fighting Him? Bezalel should know. He’d struggled with Yahweh a long time. Kamose had never really had anything to argue with Yahweh about, only trying to live as He wanted him to for less than a year—only several months, really. He was used to following orders, but he’d never had one order compete with another. Until now. How was he to care for Tirzah, and leave her alone at the same time?
Moses halted when he noticed Kamose headed for him, and listened carefully as Kamose explained. “And why did you change your mind?”
“Tirzah did not want any wives or children without their men if it was possible to bring them home.”
“She was willing to risk you in order for that to happen?”
“After many tears, yes.”
“She is a brave and wise woman. You already told Joshua you were going; why did you want to talk to me?”
Kamose stared at the distance, not wanting to look Moses in the eye. “Because I don’t want to go. I am only going because she wants me to. I put being a soldier behind me and I was happy with that decision. You told me to look for the task Yahweh had given me. I thought I found it, found a new purpose. Now I am right back to where I was before, and I am not ready for this. I haven’t been a soldier in over a year. You all look at me like I’m the expert, but I don’t think I’m any better than the rest of you. I don’t think I’ll be any more help than Joshua or Caleb. I feel as much at a loss as I did right after the spies left.” Blowing out a deep breath, he finally met the older man’s gaze.
Moses smiled, and then laughed.
Kamose stared at him as he worked the muscle in his jaw. What was so funny? He’d always been able to talk to Moses, trust him. Why was he laughing at him?
“I don’t think I’ve heard you talk so much at once … ever.”
Kamose had to admit the old man had a point. He chuckled. “I’m sure I don’t make much sense. I’ve never made decisions to please anyone else before. But I couldn’t tell her no.” He dug his sandal in the sand. “Besides, she’s probably right.”
“If I tell you I also think you made the right decision, does that help?”
“It does. A little.”
“I think you would eventually regret it if you didn’t go.”
“Probably.”
“You don’t sound completely at ease.”
“I’m worried I won’t be able to keep my mind from being back here, and that I will make mistakes, and get myself—or worse, someone else—hurt or killed. That is a danger I have never before faced. And I am ashamed to say it scares me.”
“That sounds like a helpful fear.” Moses put his hand on Kamose’s shoulder. “I will pray for you—all of you—while you are gone. And Yahweh will be with you. Remember that.”
Kamose nodded.
Moses jerked his chin toward the tents. “Go to your wife. You have a long day ahead of you.”
17 Av
The feeble sun tried to nudge its way between the tent flaps. Tirzah sat on her mat in the dim morning light, watching silently as Kamose tied his hair behind his neck, laced up his sandals, strapped his dagger to his hip.
“Don’t you need your armbands?”
He shook his head. “They don’t serve any purpose in battle.” He reached down to pull her to him.
She ran her hands over his bare chest. “Back to no tunic?” She smiled.
&nb
sp; He gave her a weak grin. “It’s hard to move in that thing.” He laid his cheek on her head. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.
“It was my idea.” She locked her arms around him. “Don’t worry about us. We have plenty of people to watch out for us. We’ll be fine.” She wasn’t sure about that, but he had to be able to concentrate on bringing the men home.
He stroked her hair. “The girls don’t know I’m leaving. They went to bed before I changed my mind.”
“I’ll explain.”
“Kiss them good-bye for me?”
“I will.” She pulled back and studied him. His dark eyes, his strong jaw, his broad shoulders. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” He buried his hands in her hair and kissed her.
She hugged him more tightly, breathed in his earthy scent, tried not to think that this might be the last kiss she might have from him. From anyone. Because if he didn’t come back, there wouldn’t be anyone else. Ever.
She broke the kiss. “Bring them home,” she whispered.
“I’ll do my best.”
He kissed her cheek and slipped out of the tent.
“And bring yourself home, too.” She brushed away a tear, and tried to fight the feeling of dread that threatened to overtake her.
She didn’t succeed.
Ahmose stood waiting when Kamose stepped outside. His throat tightened, and he knelt before his nephew.
“Are you going to bring home the men who are hurt?”
“Yes, habibi.”
Ahmose thought a moment. “That’s good. They shouldn’t have left them alone in the desert.”
“You’re right.”
“You’ll be back, right?”
“I plan to.”
“You haven’t been gone since we left Egypt.”
“I know.”
“I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you, too.” He took Ahmose’s little hand in his. “Will you do something for me?”
“Of course. What?”
“Help Aunt Tirzah with the girls?”
“I already do that. I helped her before you knew her.”
Kamose smiled. “I know. But it’s especially important now, because I don’t want her to worry about me while I’m gone. So I want you to help her all you can. And make her laugh.”
“Make her laugh?”
“At least smile.”
“I’ll try.” Ahmose pursed his lips. “She didn’t smile until she met you.”
Kamose’s heart panged like an arrow had pierced it. “Just try.” He pulled Ahmose close and hugged him. “I’ll miss you.”
Kamose rose and left camp without looking back, feeling like he’d left half of himself behind.
19 Av
“Are we getting close?” Kamose wiped his brow with the back of his hand and glowered over his shoulder at Lamech, trying to keep his loathing in check.
“I think so. I’m not really sure.”
Kamose closed the distance between them in a few long strides and glared at the former leader as he towered over him. “You need to be sure. Lives depend on how sure you are.”
Lamech pointed. “I think it’s over that way. There are some caves. We hoped that would shelter them from the heat.”
“You think?”
Lamech shrank back. “It’s over there.”
About half an hour later, Kamose entered the shallow cave first. Seven men lay on the floor, barely moving. A few moaned. Hot, fetid air filled the small space. Kamose’s head nearly reached the top of the cave, but it was wide enough for the men to lie down without touching each other. He knelt beside the one nearest the entrance and placed his hand on his forehead. The man’s skin was warm but dry, his breathing rapid. Kamose pinched some skin between his fingers; when he let go, it stayed pinched.
He stood and surveyed the others. Two more appeared to be in the same condition. “These men need water. Soon. There are springs all over these deserts. We need to find one.”
“Let’s send a few of us to look for water, and the rest will tend to these men.” Caleb gestured to a few near him. “Um … Levi, Asher, Joel, Rafael—search for water. Go in pairs—we don’t need anyone else hurt or lost.”
The four of them left.
Kamose moved past the first man to those behind him. The second man had obviously died from an injury caused by a sword. A bandage soaked in blood wound around his thigh. Kamose peeked under the cloth. The cut wasn’t bad in itself, and had it been treated properly and promptly in the field, he would have survived. But it wasn’t attended to, and the long hours of walking caused him to lose too much blood.
One more had died of his wounds. A couple more had the heat sickness, and two had broken legs and had been left behind because they could not keep up.
Kamose stood and strode to the front of the cave where Lamech waited. How he would love to strangle this man about now. He took a deep breath instead. “Lamech, where are the other men?”
“Right over here.” Lamech stepped back and pointed to the right.
Caleb walked toward Lamech and peeked around the edge. “I’ll go.”
Kamose nodded. “I’ll get them started here, then I’ll join you. Where are the splints we brought?”
One of the men handed Kamose a bag of wood pieces.
Kamose beckoned to Lamech. Lamech left these men here; he could face the consequences of his actions now. “It’s a good time to immobilize the bones. They won’t feel too much pain in their current condition. I’ll show you how.”
“Can’t someone else do this? I really don’t want—”
“You’re helping.” Kamose again knelt before the injured man, whose lower leg bent at an abnormal angle. “Grab his leg tight, just below the knee. And you”—he pointed to another man—“who are you?”
“Micah.”
“Hold his chest. Keep him absolutely still.” Kamose grasped the injured man’s heel and pulled with slow but steady pressure.
The man groaned and tried to arch his back, but Micah held him down. Lamech’s face lost nearly all its color.
The deformed leg slowly straightened out, returning to its original shape.
“Good. Now, get a couple of those pieces of wood, and wrap them in the bigger linen pieces. Then lay them on each side of his leg, and tie them on with the strips of linen above and below the break.” Kamose kept the pressure on while Lamech and Micah applied the splint. “Good, good. There’s one more.”
They set the other broken leg, then Kamose marched outside and found the other cave. He taught the other men to set breaks there as well before he called Caleb outside. “They haven’t come back with water yet. Maybe I should go look, too.”
“Give them some time. They’ll be here.”
Kamose peered inside the cave. “These men need water or they will die. The sun’s high in the sky and they can’t wait much longer. Which way did the others go?”
“One pair went east, one went west.”
“Then I’ll go north.”
“I’ll go with you.” Caleb picked up the dagger he’d set by the mouth of the cave and strapped it around his waist.
Kamose grabbed several skins and tied them to his belt. He removed his knife from its sheath and ran his finger down the blade—nice and sharp. Should be; he always kept it that way. Some habits remained. He stuck his hand in a bag and grabbed a handful of dates.
They worked a path north, eating dates and picking their way through the rocks. Kamose placed his feet carefully. He didn’t need to break his leg like those men in the cave. Of course, they didn’t know what they were doing. Probably weren’t watching where they were going. Where they were running. Running from an enemy they never should have been fighting in the first place.
A sparkle to his right caught his eye. It couldn’t be this easy, could it? He changed direction and headed for the shimmering pool. Minutes later, they stood at a dry depression in the rock. He shook his head. How had he let that happen? He knew better. He knew
how heat acted on hot stone, knew about the waves that rose above the ground posing as water.
What kind of soldier was he?
That was the problem—he was no longer a soldier. He was a husband. Exactly what he feared would happen, had happened. Tirzah had been in the back of his thoughts since he left, and she had apparently kept him from thinking clearly.
That wasn’t fair. It wasn’t her fault. She had let him go—told him to go. If thoughts of her were compromising his thinking, it was his fault, not hers. He’d been a soldier far longer than he’d been a family man, and he could control his mind. With Yahweh’s help.
Yahweh, take care of Tirzah and the girls for me so I can take care of these men.
A lizard skittered over the rocks. There had to be water somewhere near. He glanced at the sky. Hawks circled farther north.
He jabbed a finger toward the movement. “There. Those birds are hovering over either a carcass or water.” He left the rocks and entered a flat area. The birds still circled. A dry wadi appeared before him. He dropped to his knees and dug. Caleb wandered farther down the sandy bed before he knelt and was hidden behind a broom bush. After a few moments, Kamose found water. A bit longer, and there was enough to begin filling his skins.
He filled one, and laid it aside. He grabbed the second, and leaned over the hole. As he sat back on his heels, he felt the hot blade of a knife under his chin.
“Don’t move, or I’ll slit your throat.”
Eighteen
Tirzah stirred the manna into the boiling water. Kamose had been gone only three days, but she could not shake the sense of dread that had settled over her the moment he left with Caleb and the others. It had not dissipated, and this afternoon, it felt even heavier.
“Tirzah!”
Meri’s voice shook her from her reverie. “What?”
“Your manna is about to boil dry. Why are you boiling it in the middle of the day, anyway?”
Tirzah shrugged. “I didn’t have the energy to make cakes. So I just boiled it.”
“I’ll add some more water and it will be fine.” Meri reached for a skin and poured the liquid into Tirzah’s pot, then stirred the thick mess into something edible. “There. Perfect.”
By the Waters of Kadesh (Journey to Canaan Book 2) Page 19