I had done my best to obey Mosheh’s laws, delighted in hearing them whenever the priests read portions out loud to the people. I had not meant to hurt those boys. I deserved mercy! I deserved a life of happiness! I did not deserve to die! My heart swelled with the rightness, the fairness, of it. I opened my mouth to agree with Darek’s plan—
NO.
But, Yahweh, surely this cannot be justice, my spirit pled.
NO.
My hopes released with a gush of air that twisted into a sob. I laid my head against his shoulder and wept. He brushed his hand down the length of my hair, again and again, his lips against my forehead until my tears abated. Darek’s words had tickled my ears with temptation, but I knew the truth. If I ran with him now, I might escape temporary justice, but I would never truly be free.
“I cannot.” I mumbled against his neck. “It is not right. Justice demands my life. I do not want to be the cause of this beautiful land being defiled, or I would be no better than the people who have shed innocent blood here for hundreds of years. If I ignored the Torah, I would bear an even greater burden than the one I carry now.” I pulled back to look into his eyes. “It would destroy me. And it would destroy any chance at shalom for us together. I have only now begun hearing Yahweh speak again. I cannot bear to pull the veil between us once more.”
And it had been my own doing. The knowledge that had begun to bloom as I’d danced in Megiddo now took firm root in my heart. How many times had I ignored the stirring to quit hiding inside my home? To deliver meals to those who could not fend for themselves, who were grieving—suffering? How many times had I turned my face away in the market, fearful of censure by others, instead of offering a smile or a kind word? How many times had I silently railed against Adonai for allowing Mishabel to destroy my face, blaming him for human evil? It was I who had blocked out the words of Yahweh, not Yahweh who had gone silent.
Darek nodded once. Kissing my forehead again, his lips lingered there for a few moments before he released me. As I stood and began to comb my hair through with my fingers, Darek stood too, arching his back against the cramped position he’d slept in. When he drew his hand down over his face and scrubbed at the beard just emerging along his jaw, his eyes glanced away, but not before I registered raw hurt in their depths. Had he thought me not desirous of the future he’d drawn for me?
I went to him. Grasping his hand in mine, I lifted it, kissing the center of his palm, then pressed my lips to his forearm, where the wound he’d received in defense of me had only just begun to heal. “If Yahweh had said ‘yes,’ I would go with you without a second glance behind me. I would like nothing more than to be called your wife, Darek, but a marriage built on disobedience to Yahweh would only cause us more pain.” Tears sprung to my eyes. “And I must trust that even though it cleaves my heart in two, there is a purpose in all of this.”
He cupped my cheek in a gentle palm and brushed away my tears. “Of course, you are right. Forgive me for even asking—”
I placed a finger on his lips. “Already forgiven.”
“Your denial of my foolish suggestion only makes me admire you more.” He kissed me one last time, a whisper of sad resignation in the light touch of his lips.
“We should go,” he said. “We have a two days’ walk ahead of us.”
We left the shelter of the tamarisk tree we’d slept beneath and began our walk north on the narrow trade road. Only once during the long hours did we see people, a large group of Hebrew soldiers, heading northward. Darek had heard their approach around the bend in the road long before they appeared. With both of us disguised as Canaanites and reluctant to waste time describing our predicament and appearances to men of unknown loyalty, our only choice had been to duck into the brush and wait for the contingent to pass.
We reached a wide, glassy lake that filled the northern end of the basin, the same one Alanah and I had skirted on our flight to Jericho. Here the road veered off toward the northwest, toward the territory of Manasseh where Darek had suggested we might flee.
I hesitated, false freedom calling my name, tugging at me to succumb to its lure. But my spirit, which was becoming more and more attuned to the quiet whispers I’d squelched years ago, reminded me of the truth. Again, I heard the words of Mosheh, recited by Eleazar the High Priest that day under my fig tree.
Hear, O Israel. The Lord your God, the Lord is One. And You should love the Lord with all your heart, all your mind, and all your strength . . . these words which I command you today shall be on your heart.
If I loved Yahweh, I would obey, no matter the cost.
I turned north, toward whatever Yahweh had planned, knowing Darek was following and grateful that he was with me, even though every step closer to Kedesh was another step toward the moment I’d be separated from him for good.
CHAPTER
Thirty-Two
A few fishing vessels rotted along the shoreline of the lake and the barren homes in the Canaanite village were cloaked in silence. Darek tried to pilfer a fishing net from one of the half-sunk, slime-encrusted boats to catch something to eat, but it disintegrated as he yanked it free, and he abandoned the effort.
Instead we ate our fill from the abandoned vineyards and overripe orchards. It was not far from here that I’d tasted the first fruit of my life, a moment that had defined so much for me. It seemed I had walked a long, convoluted circle since that first drop of succulent pomegranate juice had sparked such curiosity on my tongue.
We spent the night beneath another stand of trees, this one on a small bluff overlooking the lake. The sunset-tinted water was so still and placid it seemed as though one might walk directly across it to the opposite side. A few glints of torchlight across the water indicated that Hebrews might inhabit a village on the eastern shore.
Holding me close to buffer the chill of the evening, Darek quietly related more about his time serving Yehoshua and wandering the Land of Promise with the surveyors, but deftly avoided any mention of his brother’s part in the adventure. I, in turn, spoke of my father and my Egyptian grandparents, my sisters and their new husbands, my precious friendships with Ora and Eitan, and even some about my brother Shimon.
Nestled in his arms, it was easy to pretend that tomorrow did not hold such uncertainty and sorrow. Yet after our stories faded away and we lay still and quiet throughout the long night, I sensed he slept as little as I did.
Waking with the sun, we continued northward and then climbed out of the wide valley of the lake, stopping only to search out more food. I enjoyed showing Darek which plants were edible and which were to be avoided, and he seemed nearly as eager as Eitan to probe my knowledge of such things. We scavenged a large harvest of jujube nuts before continuing on to Hazor, the Canaanite stronghold Yehoshua had reduced to ash and rubble a few years ago.
As we sat among the ruins, nibbling the last of the jujube, Darek regaled me with stories from that battle, one of the first he’d taken part in when he was old enough to fight with his tribesmen. I lived the experience through his words: the anticipation, the fear, the keening cries of death, the smoky hours of victory afterward when the kings of Canaan who’d so foolishly stood against Yahweh were brought to a bloody end. Laying a hand atop one of the only blackened walls still left standing, I wondered how long before the remains of this once powerful city were swallowed by the dust of time.
We moved on from the remnants of Hazor, and the farther we walked the more taciturn Darek became. His mouth firmed into a straight line, all teasing remarks and time-passing stories evaporated into single-minded focus on the path ahead. Again I saw a hint of the sharp-eyed soldier that Yehoshua had chosen to lead the surveyors through the land and wondered if Darek would ever be satisfied with a life of tending olive groves like he’d spoken of that night in the vineyard.
Skirting a few low hills, we passed over a narrow ridge and into a wide valley. My sandals sank in the soft red soil as I took in the sight in front of me.
Seven years ago I’d
seen this mountain, the tall three-headed sentinel of the north, from afar. But now I stood in a valley completely dominated by its snow-capped magnificence. With a lake glittering at its center, the basin was surrounded by forested hills swathed in every shade of green. Overflowing with olive orchards, fruit trees, and lush pastureland, the valley begged for herds of sheep and goats to indulge in its treasures.
Numerous flocks of birds, delighted with the abundant fruit left behind by the Canaanites, gossiped on branches and played chase among the trees, causing a boisterous chorus of birdsong to welcome us.
Enamored by the sight of the lake, still and clear—a precious gem reflecting the sky—I strode forward, making for the shoreline, heedless of whether Darek chose to follow me. As I stood on the bank, silent and searching for a stir of the Voice from deep within, a few gray cranes meandered along the shore, poking their long sharp beaks into the marshy area at the southern end of the lake.
Squatting down next to me, Darek scooped up a handful of the rich, red soil that must lend this beautiful place such fertility. He looked out over the water, a mask of deep contemplation over his features. I continued silently begging Yahweh for more assurance that I had made the right decision to face Raviv and my grievous mistake.
Darek startled me by saying, “It is just like I told you, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean?”
“This is our portion of land, the place my family has chosen to settle. For my father’s valiance during the battle of Ai and for my willingness, and Raviv’s, to go with the surveyors, Yehoshua allotted us this paradise.”
My fingers flew to my lips. “For once your descriptions did not do this place justice.”
“The first time I stood here, breathing this crisp, fresh air and staring at those snowy peaks, I knew this was the place my family would fulfill their generations. It was as if I’d sprung from the land myself, like my body had been formed from this soil. Someday, when Yehoshua releases me from my duties to the nation of Israel or when the army of Naftali no longer needs me, this is where I will live out my days.” He held out the red dirt in his palm and studied it before letting it spill out of his hands onto the ground. After brushing his hands clean, he folded his arms, gazing over the water again.
“I was just eleven when Zeev and Yared were born,” he said. “But I remember that morning well.”
Every muscle in my body went still. Over the last few days of peril, the visions of my victims had been assuaged somewhat, but now the images rose up in my mind to accuse me. My chest throbbed and my stomach wrenched into a knot.
“Raviv’s wife, Meredit, had been so uncomfortable for the whole pregnancy. For the last few weeks the midwife insisted she stay in her tent and on her pallet. Although my father had arranged the marriage, Raviv and Meredit grew to have great affection for one another. Raviv was overjoyed about becoming a father.”
He is no longer a father—because of me.
“It was the happiest I’d ever seen him, since the day our mother was taken away. I think he blamed himself for being gone hunting with the men instead of being there to protect her. But Meredit seemed to buffer that somehow—his burden seemed lighter that year.” His mouth tipped into a wry smile. “He even wrestled with me a few times.”
I heard the pain in that statement, the yearning of a boy who’d needed the camaraderie of his older brother, especially after the loss of their mother. Both men carried such heavy burdens for something neither of them could have prevented as children. Before I could open my mouth to say so, he continued.
“When the midwife came out of the tent and announced that not only did Raviv have one son, but two, I thought he would burst open from pride. But then, before the sun had reached its high point, Meredit died. Her delicate body gave out after such a traumatic birth.” He sighed, dropping his head forward. “It was as if an icy storm descended over my brother. Everything in him turned cold and brittle. Although he provided for Zeev and Yared, he seemed to have little interest in them. Our father’s sister raised them the best that she could, but the older they grew, the wilder they became. Every time Raviv returned home from a military campaign, they clamored for his attention, but he kept them at arm’s length. And yet . . . he loved them. I know he did.”
I knew this too. As long as I lived I would never forget the sound of Raviv mourning his sons before they’d even taken their final breaths. I did nothing to rein in the tears that trickled down my face and neck, knowing I could not suffer enough to pay for every lost moment of those boys’ lives.
He turned to me, eyes shining with unshed tears. “How can I see justice done for my nephews when to do so would rip me in two? To see you imprisoned for the rest of your life for a mistake? Or worse, to see my brother have his way—” He began to pace, digging his fingers into his hair, his expression shattered. “And yet, I cannot turn my back on my brother, can I? He has lost everything that mattered to him. Raviv felt the same way as I did about this land. He wanted so badly to pass his firstborn double portion to Zeev and Yared. I’d promised him that if I did not marry I would name the boys as my heirs, so my own third would go to them as well.” He dropped his eyes closed with a heavy sigh. “And even if by some miracle you were set free . . .”
We could not marry and live on this beautiful land. I might never be free in my lifetime—and even if I was, Raviv would not tolerate his sons’ killer living on his family’s land, especially one whom he’d planned to take as his own wife.
I shook off the memories of Darek’s lips on mine, the feeling of contentment I’d felt in his embrace, and squared my shoulders. His mother had not received justice, but with my last breath I would submit myself to the justice of Yahweh, whose righteousness demanded my blood in exchange for Zeev and Yared’s. For the sake of my people, I would not taint this land with my selfishness.
Allowing the veil that had been ripped away when Darek had kissed me in those warm, crystal-blue waters to drop back over my heart, I turned away from him. “Please, lead me to Kedesh.”
CHAPTER
Thirty-Three
I shifted my position behind the wide-trunked olive tree Darek and I had been hiding behind. His face was obscured by darkness, but I imagined the tight line of his mouth as he surveyed the black outline of Kedesh through the trees. He’d barely spoken since we’d left his beautiful valley and come up over the ridge.
I’d been shocked at just how close Darek and Raviv’s family land was to Kedesh. Would I be able to see it from inside the city walls? If I even made it inside the walls . . . “Do you think Raviv has gone? Maybe he decided we were not coming? Or that we turned around and went back to Shechem?”
“No. He’s here. I am sure of it.”
Fear slid a cold hand up my neck. “How do you know?”
“I know Raviv.” The certainty in the statement leeched the last of my futile hope.
“What should we do?” I looked toward the walled city perched atop a hill, much like Jericho had done. Although smaller than Jericho, the ramparts seemed nearly as impregnable and were surrounded by a ditch and plastered slope that would do the work of keeping invaders at bay, and possibly those seeking refuge as well. The only way to enter Kedesh would be through the main gates at the southern end of the city, in full view of anyone who might want to prevent such a thing. Everything around the city was still and quiet in the moonlight, except the intermittent lilting calls of sheep penned somewhere nearby for the night.
Darek gestured toward the southern end of the city, and in the dark I barely saw the move. “They will expect us to approach on the road, from the south, but I think it best to come in from the northeast instead. The gates will be closed at this time of night, but if you call out for help, I have no doubt the guards will let you in.”
I felt the blood drain from my face. “Are you not coming with me?”
The night went still, as if Darek were holding his breath.
“I go alone?” My pitiful whisper cut the silence.
“I must do my best to keep Raviv from getting to you. Although we are already within the allotted boundaries of the city, you are not safe until you are inside those walls.”
Again, I imagined the cool slide of a bronze weapon against my throat. Panic stirred my doubts with a heavy hand, foreboding swirling into the mixture until the stench of my fears nearly choked me. Why had Yahweh saved me in Jericho only to bring me to my end here in Kedesh? I had cried out for the mercy of death then, and he had not granted it to me. If I’d died against that idolatrous pole, Zeev and Yared would still be alive. It would have been a mercy to allow my family to go on without shame. They would have mourned me for a time and moved on. Perhaps my mother would not have shriveled away to nothing—
FEAR NOT.
I caught my breath. The command was clear and direct, spoken with the voice of Eleazar the High Priest as if he were standing a few paces away, reading from the sacred scrolls that detailed the story of Yehoshua’s encounter with Yahweh before the battle of Jericho.
FEAR NOT.
But Yahweh. What will happen to my father? To Ora? To Eitan?
Seeing the boy’s precious freckled face in my mind, I prayed that he would soon know the embrace of a mother. A mother like Darek’s, whose kind, exuberant spirit might bring love into his dark little world, for I worried that growing up with an uncle who disdained and belittled him would drain the light from his wide eyes forever.
FEAR NOT.
None of this was mine to control. My life had always been in the hands of Yahweh; even before I was born and my grandparents had chosen to walk away from Egypt, my path had always been his to determine. As was Eitan’s. And Darek’s. Bowing my head, I accepted the words, willing them to seep into my bones and drive the terror away.
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