By the Waters of Kadesh (Journey to Canaan Book 2)

by Carole Towriss

  What next?

  Nineteen

  23 Av

  Tirzah hated waking up alone. It had only been six days, but it felt like weeks. Until Kamose, she’d never slept with anyone before. Jediel had always used her for his pleasure then left the room—or even the house—when they lived in Egypt. In the tent, he slept as far away from her and the girls as possible for a few weeks, then he stopped coming home at all. Which was fine with her.

  She had never loved Jediel. But Kamose was part of her. When he was gone, it was like he took a piece of her heart with him.

  She reached for Kamose’s tunic and buried her face in it, breathing in his familiar—but fading—scent of leather and earth. How could she miss him this much?

  She shook her head. She’d been raising the girls alone for three years, married or not. She could do it again. She washed her face, brushed her hair, pulled on her tunic, and stepped outside.

  The sun was barely up, and the cool of the night still lingered. Night birds called to their partners, telling them they were on their way home. A Nubian vulture circled overhead—something hadn’t made it through the night. She raised her face to the glowing cloud hovering overhead, reminding her of Yahweh’s presence.

  She didn’t sleep long with Kamose gone, but Naomi did, so even though she rose early, she still rested well. She grabbed her manna pot, caught up with Meri, and collected the day’s manna.

  “And she actually rolled over last night! When I woke up this morning she was all the way to the edge of the tent. And when I went to pick her up, she laughed at me!”

  “Ah.” Tirzah couldn’t quite work up the level of enthusiasm Meri had. Meri always had. She got excited if the sun rose in the morning.

  “She babbles constantly. Whenever she’s awake she’s trying to talk.”

  Like her mother.

  Meri stood and faced Tirzah. “She’s just … I never dreamed I could love anyone else like I love Bezalel. Does that make sense?”

  It wasn’t Meri’s fault. Tirzah had felt the same way when her babies were born, and Jediel didn’t care. She remembered how that hurt. She shouldn’t do this to Meri. She smiled her biggest smile. “It makes perfect sense. It’s amazing how such a tiny person can completely rearrange your life.”

  Meri giggled, and they headed back.

  At the fire, Tirzah stirred the embers.

  “Do you want to hold her while I make the manna?” Meri offered the babe to Tirzah.

  The memory of holding Adi last night returned. “I do.” She reached for her, and Meri placed the baby in her arms. Adi cooed and smiled, as if she knew her job was to comfort and distract Tirzah.

  Tirzah ran her fingertips down Adi’s soft cheeks, counted her tiny fingers and toes, grinned at the faces she made. Adi kicked her feet and waved her arms. She worked her mouth, trying desperately to talk, unconnected sounds spilling from her little pouty lips.

  What would she say if she could? Would she, too, tell Tirzah everything would be fine? Or would she just say she loved her?

  Tirzah was vaguely aware of a desire for a baby of her own, hers and Kamose’s, far in the depths of her mind, but she shoved it down, hard, and concentrated on the one in her lap.

  Adi blew bubbles, and Tirzah chuckled. Not an actual laugh, but enough of one for this morning.

  Ahmose and the twins bounced in behind Bezalel with handfuls of sweet dates. “Good morning, Aunt Tirzah.” Ahmose drew near and kissed her cheek, then bent and kissed Adi. Nahshon and Sheerah, then Joshua arrived at the fire and soon conversation flowed, and distraction was no longer an issue.

  After cleaning up from breakfast, everyone scattered and silence took over for a few moments. Tirzah struggled to control her worrisome thoughts, to keep them focused on Kamose’s returning at any time. She looked north. Nothing. She tried to smile.

  Ahmose took Tirzah’s hand. “Let’s go see the big spring. There are these funny birds that hide in the broom bush.”

  Ahmose was trying to keep her busy. Kamose must have told him to. She grinned at her husband’s thoughtfulness. Facing a dangerous mission and still he thought of her. “Why not?” She held the boy’s small hand and followed him and the girls to the spring. Wildflowers of purple, yellow, and red dotted the ground as they approached the water. And the warblers did poke their heads in and out of the bushes. Ahmose and the girls tried to catch them, but the birds always won. It wasn’t a bad way to spend a morning.

  Lunch passed, then a trip to see Sarah and the other sheep, then it was time for the evening meal. Ahmose tried to occupy every moment of her time.

  As she came out of the tent after settling the girls for the night, Ahmose appeared before her. “Want to go collect some flowers?” His sweet, expectant face was a joy to watch.

  She tousled his hair. “I’m kind of tired, habibi. Why don’t you get some for me?”

  “Sure!” He nodded and then scampered off toward the river.

  Before she climbed back into her tent and lay down next to her girls, Tirzah looked north once again. Nothing. To the west, the sun slipped behind the mountains.

  Another day gone and no Kamose. And she was losing daylight as fast as she was losing hope.

  Kamose turned at the sound of keys jingling. He’d been waiting in this room for another day, since being sent here by the king. The door arced open, screeching as it scraped along the floor.

  A young guard, dagger on his hip, entered the large, well-furnished room carrying a tray filled with fruits, meat, cheese, and bread in one hand and a pitcher in the other. He was the same guard who’d led him around the day before. Though almost as large as Kamose, he’d not once handled him roughly, and had a kind face, even though he wore his hair down like the rest of the Canaanites, which sometimes made it hard to see his eyes. Perhaps he could be helpful. Did he speak Egyptian?

  Kamose moved closer to him. “What’s your name?”

  “Aqhat.” He smiled and winked as he glanced toward the door.

  A young girl leaned against the doorway. A gauzy fabric crossed from behind her neck, barely covering her sizeable … assets … before tying behind her waist. The skirt didn’t hide much either.

  The guard stepped out and locked the door behind her, still grinning.

  “I’m Donatiya,” she said in Egyptian. Her accent was barely noticeable, even endearing. She moved to the table in the center of the room and drew her fingers over the tray and pitcher upon it, then slinked over to Kamose. She uncrossed his arms and slid her hands along his biceps.

  Apparently their tactics had changed. Instead of beating him, they would try to charm the information out of him. Two years ago, maybe even one, he would have played their game, and won. He had no information to give, but he would have invented some, misled them. And enjoyed the girl.

  But that was before Yahweh. Before Tirzah. Now the woman before him offered no temptation. At least not to his heart. Or his mind. His body might be another matter.

  He sucked in a breath as she ran her hands down his chest. He glanced at the food. “That looks delicious.”

  She chuckled. “The food? Or me?”

  He smiled. “Both. But I’ll have more energy if I eat first.”

  “Energy? Why are you in need of energy?”

  “Because I have barely eaten since I arrived here.”

  “Ah, then you must be under the control of the prince.”

  The woman had a loose tongue. Perhaps he could learn something. “Why do you say that?”

  Donatiya circled him, drawing her fingers across his skin as she talked. “The prince is often more … enthusiastic … than wise when it comes to taking care of his prisoners. The king tries to restrain him, but it’s getting harder.” She stood facing him, and draped her arms around his neck. An overpowering scent of lilies surrounded them, made his empty stomach roil.

  He tipped his head toward the table. “The food?”

  She grinned. “If you insist, my love.”

  “Please?”r />
  She dragged the table toward the low but wide bed, then sat down and patted the space next to her.

  For the next hour, he played along. He kept up his part in the conversation, laughed at her jokes, drank the wine. He even allowed her to feed him, which was extremely irritating. He wasn’t a toddler. But it kept her occupied, so he accepted the grapes, chunks of bread, and pieces of meat she offered. At least the food tasted good.

  The meal consumed, she pushed the table away and placed herself behind him. Her hands massaged his neck, releasing the knots that had gathered there.

  He should stop her, but he was exhausted, and it felt so good.

  “So, when are you coming to live here?”

  Here it comes. “We are not coming.”

  Her hands slid down to his lower back. “I know you have to tell the prince that. But you can tell me the truth,” she whispered in his ear.

  More kneading. The physical relief warred with his discomfort at letting another woman touch him. But he wanted to try to find a graceful way out of the situation. If he mishandled this, what would they do next?

  She nuzzled his neck. “I want you to come here.”

  “We’re not coming.” His breathing came faster. He needed to stop this.

  “Come stay with me.” Her hands wrapped around his chest and she kissed his cheek. “I’ll give you anything you want,” she whispered.

  He flung her hands away and stood. “I am telling you the truth.” He struggled to keep his voice under control. “And no matter what you say or do, it will not change. We—are—not—coming.”

  Donatiya stood slowly. “Very well, my love.” She slithered past him, brushing her body against his as she did. She rapped on the door, and within a moment, Aqhat unlocked the door and let her out.

  Kamose stood in the center of the empty room and slowed his breathing. He rubbed his hand down his face.

  He couldn’t have let her continue. But what would they try next? Would they go back to the whips?

  He dropped onto the bed. He’d barely slept for the last several nights. His mind spun. Tirzah. Whips. Lamech. The wounded. A pouty prince.

  Whatever they had in mind, it probably wouldn’t happen tonight. He couldn’t think clearly, and he would need the energy to face whatever it would be. The best thing he could do now was to sleep.

  He closed his eyes. Guilt, loneliness, exhaustion, speculation— all combined to keep his head spinning longer than he wanted. But eventually the dark feelings left him, and he settled into a deep sleep, allowing him to prepare for another day.

  24 Av

  Aqhat pushed open the door and placed a towel and large pitcher of water on the table. He laid a fresh tunic and other necessary items on the bed and closed the door on his way out.

  I guess they’re not going to beat me. Yet.

  Kamose cleaned up and changed his clothes. He combed his hair and retied it. He had to admit, after a delicious meal, a good night’s rest, and clean clothes, he felt infinitely better.

  It made him wary.

  Aqhat and another guard returned and led him to the throne room. No prodding with knives this time, or barked commands. They treated him … with respect.

  That, too, raised his suspicion.

  In the large, high-ceilinged rom, Kamose knelt before the king.

  “This is the Hebrew that was captured outside our gates?”

  “Yes, my king,” Aqhat answered.

  “His name?”

  “Kamose.”

  “Kamose? That is not a Hebrew name.” The ruler turned to Kamose. “Explain.”

  Was the king talking to him or the guard? Unsure, Kamose remained kneeling, silent.

  “Explain.”

  Aqhat touched his shoulder.

  Kamose raised his head to the king. “I am Egyptian. I am with the Hebrews now.”

  “Why?”

  “I left Egypt when the Israelite God destroyed it. I have become one of them, and I worship their God as my own.”

  “Egyptians are a proud people. No Egyptian would take the side of those they have conquered.”

  “I have seen what their God can do. He is a better God than any of our gods.”

  The king nodded to Aqhat, who touched Kamose’s elbow and helped him to stand.

  The king nodded. “Tell me about the Israelites.”

  “What would you like to know?”

  “I hear many stories. Stories I cannot believe. I need to know if they are true.”

  “Such as?”

  “That the Israelites escaped from Egypt and destroyed the army, that they survive in the desert by bread falling from the sky. Water appears from nowhere. Slaves defeat the Amalekites … need I go on?”

  “All true, except the Israelites did none of those things on their own. Our God, Yahweh, did them. He drowned the army, defeated the Amalekites, sends the bread every day, and provides water when needed.”

  “And you now intend to take over all the land of Canaan? How will you do that? You have no chariots, your army is inexperienced. You have only fought desert raiders, not a trained army.”

  “Again, true. But when it is time, Yahweh will give us victory, just as He did against the Amalekites. You may dismiss the raiders here, but you know they are a brutal force.”

  The king smiled. “Well done. Now, what does ‘when it is time’ mean?”

  “Yahweh had planned to give us this land, and we would have taken this city. But we disobeyed Him. And now we are being punished, and we will remain in the desert for forty years.”

  “That is difficult to believe.”

  “It was difficult to hear.”

  “How do I know you speak the truth?”

  “Surely your spies have seen our camp. Does it look like we are preparing for war, or organizing a settlement?” A twinkle flashed in the king’s eyes—he’d finally convinced the old man.

  “I can see you are an excellent soldier.” The ruler drew nearer. “We could use a man like you. A man who can follow orders no matter what, to the very last.” He put his hands on Kamose’s shoulders. “Come to our side. I will make you a leader of my people. I will give you a house, riches, women, power—whatever you desire shall be yours. I admire your loyalty and faithfulness to your leaders. I need that kind of honor here.”

  “And if I left, what would it say about my loyalty then?”

  The king chuckled. “I would have been surprised had you answered differently. But I had to try.” He beckoned to Aqhat. “Return him to his room. Feed him, then prepare him for his journey home.”

  A deep sigh escaped Kamose’s chest as waves of relief washed over him. The weight lifted from his shoulders. He didn’t need food, or sleep. He could run home, all the way. Just show him the door. Tirzah, Naomi, Keren, Ahmose. Soon. Soon I’ll be there.

  Aqhat led him down the hall. He spoke in words Kamose did not understand to a young servant girl as they passed. Within moments of reaching his room, a boy entered with a tray of food. Aqhat thanked the boy and dismissed him. “I’ll be back soon with the things you will require for your trip home.”

  Kamose smiled. “Thank you, Aqhat.” He forced himself to remain patient, polite.

  Aqhat nodded and left.

  The food was delicious, as it was the night before. Kamose ate quickly. He had just taken the last bite of meat and washed it down with juice when two large armed men slammed open his door.

  Kamose’s blood ran cold. “Where’s Aqhat?”

  The men each grabbed an arm, yanked him to his feet, and thrust him through the doorway. They led him halfway down the familiar hall, then turned left, down another long hall into a different room, much larger, toward the back of the palace areas, and shoved him to the center.

  Pain shot through his shoulders as the guards bound his hands to a metal ring high above his head on a wooden pole, then tied his feet together.

  The low ceiling and lack of windows kept the air hot and heavy. The pole at the center of the large room was rou
gh and dug into his chest and his cheek as he looked around the pole at his captors. Both guards had long daggers on their hips. Spears rested against the wall. Rods and rope hung on hooks and six more armed men stood guard at the door. All eight men were sturdy and well muscled.

  What happened to going home?

  He knew what was coming. He’d never been beaten before; he’d never disobeyed an order and never been captured. He preferred not to use beatings as a punishment himself; other methods were more effective. Still, he’d witnessed enough of them and knew they could be excruciating.

  The guards were apparently waiting for something, for someone. They stood silently, unmoving. The two nearest him occasionally glanced at the door.

  He forced himself to calm his breathing and his heartbeat. Allowing himself to become agitated would only keep him from thinking clearly and exacerbate the pain. He recited the names of the men under his last command as captain of the guard. It had been well over a year, but he could see each face, remember each man. How many had died when Yahweh sent the Angel of Death?

  Not a good distraction. He rehearsed a military drill, one of those he taught to young recruits while still on the field to ready them for battle, executing each exacting move perfectly in his imagination. One finished, he moved to the next. And the next.

  After many frustrating moments, the door opened. Kamose raised his head. His mental diversion had worked—his breath was even, his heart beat at a normal pace. His mind was clear and quick. He surveyed the newcomers.

  Four slaves, a pair at a time, entered, then moved to each side. Keret, dressed in fine, crimson robes and adorned in jewels, followed. He strolled to the side of the room facing Kamose, yet remained about six long strides away.

  The two guards who had accompanied him walked to the wall across from the door, took down whips, and returned to stand on each side of Kamose, slightly behind him.

  “Thought you were leaving, did you? My father is old, and easily fooled. I have no intention of letting you go until I learn what I need to know.”

  Keret spoke a command to the guards and raised a finger.