By the Waters of Kadesh (Journey to Canaan Book 2) Page 12

  “What I can expect is for you to stay out of my life!” She shoved him away from her fire.

  He stumbled backwards. The laughter disappeared, and his face darkened. His eyes shot daggers. “Well, when you arrive in Canaan, and no one will marry you, and you have no land, and no way to support your girls, just remember I warned you.” Now he pointed a finger. “And if you’re very lucky, maybe I’ll take pity on you, and you can be my servant.” He spun on his heel and left.

  When she was sure he couldn’t hear her, she unleashed the pentup tears. Could it be true? Was Kamose like all the other soldiers? And did that mean she was just another of his conquests?

  She dropped to the sand. Maybe that explained his irresistible charm. He’d perfected it on hundreds of other women. He knew exactly what to say to make her want him, trust him, believe every word that came from his mouth.

  Was any of it real? She wrapped her arms around her knees and sobbed until her tears were spent.

  Her thoughts calmed, she drew a slow breath. Memories of his smile, his kiss, his touch, danced through her mind. She wasn’t ready to give up yet. Meri trusted him, and she did not seem to be a foolish girl. Tirzah had met charmers who had come to court her sister. Her stepfather was one. Even her brothers, to a degree. Kamose did not act like any of them. As charming as they were, there was always a shallowness, a hollowness to them. And they were always impatient. If they didn’t get the reaction they wanted soon enough, they moved on to the next girl. None of that was Kamose.

  Maybe she should forget Nathaniel had ever said anything, see what happened. If it was real, Kamose would continue to see her. If he was pretending, he would move on.

  There was no way to find out tonight. All she could do was try to sleep, and wait until tomorrow. And pray that she hadn’t already lost what she’d only begun to hope for.

  14 Tammuz

  Dread settled on Gaddiel like a cloak. The mound had been visible from the time they left the lake. For two hours it had loomed in front of them. Hazor sat atop a huge hill, like a guardian of all northern Canaan. Walls surrounded it. They couldn’t see inside, but the outside was imposing enough. It was as big—or bigger—than Shechem. Much as Shechem controlled a critical junction, anyone traveling between Egypt and Mesopotamia had to go through Hazor, and the city profited immensely.

  The scouts veered to meet up with the main east-west road. As they passed the mountainous first level, it became clear that Hazor was bigger than all the cities they had seen so far put together. To the north, a lower level, perhaps three times larger than the upper, cocooned it on three sides.

  Gaddiel took in the earthen rampart surrounding the lower city. It was not nearly as high as the walls of Arad or Shechem. Perhaps it could be taken. Why would they leave their walls so low? As they neared, towers on the wall proved to be lookout points with guards inside, guards who could call out reinforcements if needed. From the size of the city, they would have plenty of defenders to draw from.

  Even the lower level sat high above the surrounding land. Its height was a distinct advantage. The enemy would be seen before they came anywhere near them. Their army would have plenty of time to ready itself if the attackers did not retreat. They could rain down spears and arrows—and any other projectile they could think of, flaming or not. Gaddiel shuddered.

  The spies turned off the main road onto the one leading to the city. Gaddiel lined up behind a caravan of donkeys laden with bags. The smell of sweat, dust, and dung hung heavy in the air.

  Gaddiel leaned to the side to see what was happening. The guards apparently knew many of the traders, giving only cursory glances at their packs and nodding.

  The line moved at a steady pace until the donkey caravan reached the gate. The sentries questioned the trader at the head of the line.

  The leader responded, but the guard continued questioning. He motioned to two more guards, who strode over and searched every pack in their group.

  Gaddiel pulled at the neck of his tunic, cracked his knuckles. They had nothing to trade. Would they be allowed in? They had a few coins left. Would it be enough? Or would they be discovered as spies?

  The group ahead was waved through, and Caleb stepped toward the guard. “We’ve come to buy.” He shook his pack of coins and shells.

  “These are all with you?” The guard responded in Egyptian as he gestured to Gaddiel and the others.

  Caleb nodded and the guard waved them through.

  Gaddiel let out a breath.

  Inside the double walls, the scent of roasting meat floated by on a slight breeze. Gaddiel wandered past stalls with fresh fruit, milk, wine, and cool water lining one side of the road that continued deep into the heart of the city. Across the road, vendors offered baths, shaves, clean clothes, even women—anything a man traveling for weeks could want.

  “The food is incredibly inexpensive. They obviously want to keep the traders here a few days, spending their money on other things. Look, there are places to sleep.” Caleb gestured toward a building with mats visible through open doors and windows. A young girl stood at the door. Four other traders went inside and dumped their belongings on mats after dropping coins in her hand.

  Sleeping inside instead of on the ground. The thought soothed Gaddiel’s weary muscles. “Do we have enough coin?”

  “Depends on how much it costs. Anyone want to find out?” Caleb asked.

  “I’ll go.” Palti left for the building.

  “Let’s find some food. I’m tired of grouse.” Gaddiel marched back to the stalls offering meats of many kinds.

  “Watch your coin. We’ve a long way to go yet,” Joshua called after him.

  The spies split up. Gaddiel and Igal bought meat, pomegranates, and watered wine, spending very little coin. Gaddiel filled his bag with more fruit for the next day.

  They crossed the road and found a bathhouse. A young girl, wearing not much of anything, watched the door. Gaddiel held out his smallest coin, and gestured to himself and Igal. The girl smiled and nodded, then put her arms around his neck, rubbing up against him, fingering his coin pouch. “No, no!” He pulled her arms away and pointed inside, pretending to wash. She frowned, but held open the curtain to the bathhouse after snatching his coin.

  Inside the house, Gaddiel’s mouth dropped open as he watched men and women bathing together—actually, there was far more than bathing going on.

  Igal grabbed his arm. “Do you see what I am seeing?”

  Gaddiel nodded, speechless.

  Another girl strolled up to them, wearing nothing but a skimpy towel around her waist.

  Igal turned away.

  Gaddiel felt heat creep up his neck and shooed her off.

  Igal grabbed him again.

  Gaddiel spun on his heels. A girl was hanging on a young man, who was dropping several coins into an older man’s palm. He whistled. “So that’s how they make all their money. The food and beds are cheap, but the women are expensive.”

  “Let’s get clean and get out of here.” Igal headed for the nearest open area and stepped into the steaming water.

  After changing and leaving their dirty clothes behind to be cleaned, the pair explored the rest of the fascinating city. They walked through rows of vendors, through long streets of houses, and at the edge of the city, built into a corner of the wall but by no means hidden or small, they found a temple.

  People entered and exited by three stone steps leading to an open archway.

  Igal leaned close. “Seems to be awfully busy, doesn’t it?”

  Gaddiel nodded.

  “Want to go inside?”

  “Is it allowed?” Gaddiel stood on his toes to try to get a better view.

  “We can try. They’ll stop us if we can’t go in. Maybe there’s a space reserved for foreigners, like in the tabernacle.”

  The pair passed under the arch and entered an enormous open courtyard. An altar commanded most of the space. Peasants in farm attire—presumably from the fields surrounding the city�
��brought offerings of crops and laid them at the foot of the table. Kneeling, they raised their hands to the sky and called out in their native tongue.

  Not too different from us.

  Gaddiel and Igal passed a fire pit, then climbed a longer set of steps and entered the temple. Candlelight threw distorted shadows on the basalt walls. Small rooms with only thin curtains for doors lined either side of the room.

  Gaddiel’s steps echoed off the stone. He halted outside one of the rooms. His stomach somersaulted at the moans drifting from inside. He shook his head. Couldn’t be. He moved forward.

  The same noises came from the next room. From the third room, a couple, stripped from the waist up, stumbled out. The man dropped coins into the young girl’s hand, then kissed her cheek before he sauntered away. She leaned against the doorframe and waved goodbye.

  Gaddiel forced down the bile making its way up his throat. He turned to look at Igal.

  Igal’s face was pale. “Let’s go.”

  They retraced their steps, leaving the cavernous temple behind them. Gaddiel’s heartbeat slowed as he stepped onto the dirt floor of the courtyard. He wiped his hands on his tunic. “I want to get away from here. Let’s go find the others.”

  A woman strode toward the altar from the archway. She carried no crops; a babe wrapped in a cloth rested in her arms.

  Gaddiel followed her with his eyes as she halted at the altar where a priest now waited. She drew in ragged breaths and held the child to her chest for a moment. She placed a kiss on his cheek and handed the baby to the priest.

  Gaddiel held his breath as the woman retreated a couple of paces and sank to her knees.

  What was she doing?

  The priest took the baby and placed it on a pile of wood on the altar. The infant cried and flailed its arms. The priest mumbled some words over the infant, then he strode to the fire.

  Gaddiel’s heart beat triple-time. Blood left his head and he felt woozy. Could that priest possibly be doing what it looked like?

  The priest grasped a thick stick from the fire, lit at one end, and carried it back to the altar. The babe was now wailing. The priest raised his arms and chanted.

  A crowd formed around the trio.

  Gaddiel barely breathed. He shoved his way to the front.

  The mother knelt stone-faced, though her hands shook violently.

  The crowd joined in the priest’s chant and drowned out the child’s shrieks.

  The priest touched the fire to the wood cradling the baby. Flames jumped from one twig to another, quickly surrounding the child with smoke and fire.

  Gaddiel’s chest constricted. Could they really be doing this?

  The crowd swayed from side to side in unison and the chants grew louder.

  Gaddiel’s stomach soured, the meat and fruit from earlier turning to stone. He breathed faster and harder as within his chest a battle raged—he should want to try to save this child, but he didn’t; the crowd surrounding him was nearing a frenzy. What would they do to him if he interrupted their sacrifice?

  After all, it wasn’t his baby ….

  But it was a baby ….

  What should he do? What could he do? He held his head in his hands, muttering, talking to himself, trying to hear himself think over the screams before he realized it was his scream he heard mingling with the high, anguished cries of the baby.

  The baby stilled.

  Gaddiel’s legs gave way and his knees slammed against the ground. He buried his face in his hands for a few moments and sobbed.

  He picked himself up and grabbed Igal, then raced for the archway. He ran until he reached the public sleeping room, skidded as he turned in the door and raced down to the end. He leaned his hands on his knees and gasped for air.

  Caleb rose from his mat and stood before him, his hands on Gaddiel’s shoulders. “What happened?”

  Joshua jogged over to Igal.

  It took Gaddiel a few more moments to slow his breathing to the point he could speak. “We have to leave here. Now.”

  Caleb narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

  Gaddiel straightened. “We just went to the temple. You would not believe what we saw.”

  Caleb looked from Gaddiel to Igal and back.

  “What?”

  “Men and women—in the temple—doing what should only be done in the marriage bed. But that’s not the worst part.” He rubbed his hand down his face.

  “What?” Joshua nearly yelled.

  Gaddiel glanced around the room. They were alone. The other four traders must have gone. “There was a baby … a mother brought it … she gave it to the priest …” Gaddiel’s stomach rebelled at the memory. At his failure. He couldn’t repeat it—Igal would have to explain it. He left the room and vomited.

  After taking a few moments to calm down, he returned.

  Joshua paced, his hands behind his neck. “They really burned it to death? And no one did anything?”

  Igal shook his head. “No. The crowd was chanting along with the priest.”

  “I’ve heard about these things, but I’d really hoped they were just stories,” Caleb said.

  “Well, they’re not.” Gaddiel grabbed his pack. “We have to leave here. Now.”

  Joshua shook his head and exhaled a loud breath. “The gates have closed for the night. We can’t leave until morning.”

  “No, no! We have to go.” Gaddiel grabbed Joshua’s tunic.

  “Gaddiel!” Joshua grasped Gaddiel’s shoulders. “The gates are closed. They will not let us leave.” Joshua stared at him until Gaddiel understood. “I’m sorry, but we just can’t leave right now. We’ll leave in the morning.”

  Gaddiel released Joshua, doing his best to hide the tears once again threatening to flow.

  Joshua clapped him on the arm. “Try to get some rest. Well leave as soon as they open the gates. I’ll go early and watch for the guards to unlock them myself.”

  Gaddiel nodded, then slumped off toward the mat closest to the wall. He lay down and faced away from everyone, tried to shut the image of the baby out of his mind. When his heart finally slowed to a normal rhythm, the soft mat brought sleep quickly.

  Just before dawn, armed soldiers burst in the door. Two held torches.

  The girl they had paid for the mats, cowering beside them, pointed toward the spies.

  The officers marched to their end of the room, spears in hand, and stopped in front of the scouts. “Up, all of you!” yelled one in Egyptian.

  The spies stood and reached for their bags.

  “Bring nothing!”

  In only his tunic, Gaddiel shivered in the predawn air.

  A soldier brought an old woman to the front and spoke in a language unknown to the scouts. She pointed to Palti.

  “You are under arrest for the murder of her husband.” The officer grabbed Palti’s left arm and another grabbed his right.

  “When?” asked Caleb.

  “Last night.”

  “But he couldn’t have.” Gaddiel stepped forward.

  “She says she saw him. He got in a fight over money and hit her husband in the head with a rock.”

  “Impossible!” Caleb pleaded with the guards. “Our God forbids it.”

  It made no difference. They dragged Palti away. He cast a glance backwards as he turned a corner, his eyes full of terror.

  Gaddiel turned on Caleb and Joshua. “What do we do now?”

  Joshua shrugged, his eyes wide.

  “Pray. Yahweh will take care of this,” Caleb said.

  Pray? Caleb’s calm demeanor was beyond irritating.

  Even Joshua had sense enough to be worried.

  Kamose stood by the largest spring, northeast of camp. It gurgled and bubbled, but no matter how much noise it made, it could not mask the thoughts in his head. Thoughts that had been haunting him, hounding him all night, keeping him from sleep. He’d paced until the sun rose.

  He crouched and splashed his face. If only the water could wash away his past as easily as it washed
away sweat and dirt. At least part of it. He had always been proud of everything he had accomplished. Until little more than a year ago, he’d been the most trusted soldier in the most powerful nation on earth. That wasn’t worth much now.

  The birds sang merrily above him, but there was nothing merry in his heart. Try as he might, he could not erase the memory of Tirzah sobbing last night after Nathaniel told her about the life of an Egyptian army officer. Just before he stepped into view he’d heard Nathaniel’s voice detailing things he hadn’t thought about in years. Tirzah had defended him, but after her brother-in-law left … the tears wouldn’t stop.

  He sat back and drew his knees to his chest. There was no way around it—he simply was not good enough for her. If he pursued a relationship with her beyond helping her or protecting her, he would only end up hurting her. His past was too sullied, too shameful. There was only one option: stop now before things went any further. His heart throbbed at the idea. To never kiss her again, hold her … to give it up would be heartbreaking. But if he truly cared for her, he had no other choice. Thank Yahweh he’d only kissed her once. She would find someone else easily enough.

  But how to help her and protect her from Nathaniel without being near her? That was the immediate problem. Ahmose could continue helping her with the girls. He’d just have to stay away for a while, long enough to get his emotions under control. He’d spent his whole life suppressing his feelings. He could do it again. A few weeks of weakness could be undone, before there was any more damage.

  Eleven

  16 Tammuz

  Palti had been kept from them for two days. They had been allowed to visit him and bring him his clothes. He was fed and treated well, but terrified. The punishment for murder was death.

  Gaddiel paced the sleeping room. Palti was the calmest man he knew. He had never seen him lose his temper or even raise his voice. To murder someone? Impossible.

  But the woman was insistent. She had not changed her story. And they had no proof. She had a bloody rock and a dead husband.

  The spies wandered through the city. Even the smell of food could not interest Gaddiel. They stayed in groups of at least three, lest anyone else be accused. Gaddiel, Sethur, and Igal strolled through the streets of mud brick houses. Children ran and chased each other, women chatted in doorways, young girls snickered and pointed at young men. It reminded him very much of his home in Egypt.