Lioness: Mahlah's Journey Page 11

  “Women are stewards of our land.” Fist to hip, Noah approached their uncle. “Do I not tend to our livestock? Have not the births of our lambs and kids been double that of the men in our clan?”

  Nemuel balked. “Because of your cousins’ skill. Not of your own.”

  “That is folly.” Noah rounded on the crowd and returned their scowls.

  “Silence.” Moses raised his staff and held it above her kin. “Stop this bickering. I will bring the matter before God.”

  “But they have no standing.” Nemuel scrubbed a hand across his forehead nearly dislodging his turban.

  “There is no harm in petitioning God,” Reuben said. “Were we not going to ask Him to bless the lots in distribution of the land?”

  Finally, a hint of an ally.

  “My own son speaks nonsense.” Clicking his tongue, her elder addressed the men standing nearby. “Why not give land to all the women in this camp? Isn’t that what these girls desire?”

  A crowd of elders sealed off the center aisle, barricading her sisters from leaving. Their angry shouts heaped disdain on her family name.

  Mahlah’s right eye fluttered. The mass of men surrounding her made her feel like bread baking on a slab of stone. Sweat trickled down the side of her face.

  She bowed her head to Moses and said, “We do not mean any disrespect to our elders. My sisters and I want to honor our father’s name. We will accept whatever God decrees. May God grant you wisdom in considering our request.”

  Milcah eased forward. Her amber-brown eyes appeared too big for her slim face. A strong gust of wind could have blown her sister into the crowd.

  “When will you talk to God about us?” Milcah’s eyes blinked as she faced Moses. “It is getting rather loud.”

  Moses pursed his lips and cast a glance at Eleazar. “I believe with all the commotion in this assembly, my child, I shall approach our God in haste.”

  “Toda raba, my lord.” Mahlah slipped her sandal onto her foot. “Shall we stay here and wait for you?”

  “Do you wish to return to your tent?” Moses tipped his head toward the elders of her tribe.

  She glanced above Moses at the cloud settled upon the tent where the Ark of her people waited. Where God waited between the golden cherubim in the holiest of places. Her God was waiting mere feet away. She breathed in the smoke from the many campfires tainting the air. Staring at the cloud overhead, she remembered the warm rays of sun and the comforting voice she thought she had heard when she prayed by the rock. Her tense muscles suddenly, and inexplicably, softened like pounded leather.

  “I believe we’ll stay here. With God.”

  23

  Mahlah and her sisters huddled near the entrance to the Tent of Meeting. More men had joined the assembly, swallowing the center aisle and crowding the open spaces in front of the holy tent cared for by the priests. Men. Everywhere. Men. Squabbling. No doubt re-telling her request of Moses and raising a raucous. The stares of the leaders stationed near her sisters held no sympathy for the orphaned girls. Their mouths snarled. Their nostrils flared.

  Her cheeks flamed. How dare these elders disregard her claim. Didn’t the same blood that pulsed through Nemuel’s veins, pulse through her body? Her bloodline heralded Joseph, Jacob, Isaac, and Abraham.

  Reuben strutted forward. He carried a waterskin and cups.

  Her heart assaulted her ribs but not with the normal, pleasant flutter that accompanied Reuben’s presence. Her friend had defended his father and his own station above her petition for land.

  She edged away from her sisters.

  Reuben thrust the waterskin into her hand. “I cannot believe you betrayed me. I sent word, so you could prepare your household, and now my father fears for his life.”

  Nemuel could handle a few disgruntled men. No uprising would occur with Eleazar in his jewel-laden ephod perched outside the tent and Moses kneeling in prayer beside it.

  She stiffened at the perusal of Reuben’s dark eyes. No compassion glistened in his gaze.

  “What did you expect me to prepare my sisters for? Servitude?”

  “A customary future with a husband.” Reuben dangled the cups in front of her face.

  Noah reached in and grabbed a cup. “I’ll take those and the skin. You two keep squabbling.”

  Mahlah crossed her arms and glared at the man who had always harbored a quiet wisdom.

  “Have you forgotten about marriage and obedience, Mahlah? About the reputation of our clan? I could go on. But you don’t seem to listen to reason anymore.”

  “Anymore?” She fisted her hands and fought the temptation to lash out. “In all the years you have known me, when have I been unreasonable?”

  He bent low, so his breath blew in her face. “Leaving the camp in the dark of night. Strolling among unclean men. Need I go on?”

  “All of that I did to take care of my sisters. And I would do it all again.”

  “You took on the role of an elder, of which, you are not.”

  “I took on the role of a firstborn, of which I am.” Her voice rasped a defense.

  Reuben straightened and drew away from her.

  Good. At this moment, she did not want to be near him. In all her years, had she ever had that thought? She glimpsed her sisters drinking water and whispering. Her place was with them.

  Turning her gaze upon Reuben, she battled any twitch threatening to mar her fierce tirade. “Where were the elders of Hepher when my father needed comfort? What elder counselled my father when frustration ruled his senses?”

  “Do not blame the clan of Hepher for your father’s sins. He alone led a charge against God. Your father abandoned you. His clan has remained steadfast.”

  “I will not abandon my sisters. I vowed to my mother to keep watch over them, and that is one vow I will uphold until I take my last breath.”

  Reuben beheld her like a stiff-necked elder. “Did you learn nothing from your father’s disobedience?” His voice was smooth as an Egyptian’s robe, but it pierced her soul.

  “Yes, I did.” She struggled with her answer, coaxing every syllable from her quivering lips. “I learned that God will provide for me and my sisters. Shalom.” Stepping away, she turned and took the waterskin from Noah.

  “I’ll pour.” Noah retrieved the skin. “Your hands are shaking. Too bad we don’t have something stronger.” Arching her eyebrows, Noah’s gaze fell to Reuben’s haughty stature.

  “Do not worry, Sister. He is one man.”

  Mahlah’s heart constricted. She had loved that one man since she was a child.

  Before she could swallow her refreshment, Moses stood with the help of his staff and turned toward the assembly. The din of male voices hushed.

  Mahlah choked and gasped for air.

  “God is punishing her,” a man bellowed.

  Noah patted Mahlah on her back. “I never thought them such fools.”

  Calming her cough, Mahlah led her sisters forward. They knelt before Moses, hand in hand, a chain of orphaned girls.

  “Daughters of Zelophehad,” Moses called in a loud voice. He raised his staff like a scepter over the crowd. “The God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob has heard your plea.”

  Mahlah’s fingers went numb where she grasped Hoglah’s and Milcah’s hands.

  Moses scanned the assembly. “Leaders of Israel, hear these words from our God. If a man dies and leaves no son, his inheritance shall be given to his daughters.”

  A rush of gasps filled the stale air.

  Had she heard Moses correctly? Would they receive a plot of land in their father’s name? Her body felt as if it floated above the soil.

  “This day,” Moses continued, “the inheritance of Zelophehad, son of Hepher, shall be given to his daughters. His offspring shall inherit property among their father’s relatives.”

  “Praise be to God.” Mahlah rose, her arms outstretched toward Moses. “Thank you, my lord. My heart overflows with blessing.” Her eyes moistened with joyous tears. “Praise God
.” She embraced her sisters with abandon.

  “What good is your praise? No man will have a bold nag as a wife,” a bystander shouted.

  Moses stomped his staff. “Listen to God’s words. If a man has no sons or daughters, his inheritance shall then go to his brothers. Or to his father’s brothers. This is God’s ordinance.”

  Head bowed, Mahlah prayed. “The Lord is my God, and I will praise Him; my father’s God, and I will exalt Him.”

  “Praise God.” Tirzah jumped to her feet and waved her hands in the air. She hopped in a circle, dancing.

  “Let us rejoice in this word from God,” Eleazar, the priest, pronounced. “These five women sought the counsel of the Almighty and have been rewarded for their wisdom. After a time, we will pray over the lots.”

  Moses closed his eyes and began reciting the Shema.

  “Here O Israel, the Lord is our God. The Lord alone…”

  Mere feet from where Moses had spoken with God, Mahlah joined her sisters arm in arm, and swayed, their head coverings askew, their mouths open wide, laughing reverently. Their future was secure.

  “Love the Lord your God.” Our God. “With all your heart and with all your soul…”

  “And with all your might,” Noah added.

  “The name of Zelophehad will be remembered in Canaan.” Tears pooled in Hoglah’s eyes.

  “We have been granted land.” Mahlah kissed Hoglah’s cheek. “We can remain a family.”

  She pressed her hands together and bobbed her head toward Moses, Joshua, and Eleazar. Her kinsmen, Abishua, Nemuel, Reuben, and Eli, stood shoulder to shoulder forming an unapproving wall.

  Two men approached their circle.

  “See. It is her. I told you.” The tall, thin man elbowed the other. He opened his arms. “You do not remember us? Perhaps if I had my camel?”

  “The men from the tribe of Asher,” Noah whispered.

  “I remember, Shuni.” And she remembered the shock of finding him among her sisters. If only that pagan thief, Balaam, had not stolen their goat and distracted her. “You helped my sisters carry our load. Toda raba.”

  “Perhaps we shall come visit and help you cross the Jordan.” Shuni rocked forward on his sandals as if he was prepared to start the journey right then and there.

  “You are always welcome.” Hoglah smiled at the tall Asherite.

  “We should leave you men to the business of blessing lots.” Mahlah gave a brief nod to Shuni and his brother. “Shalom.”

  She bowed to Eleazar and ushered her sisters toward the entrance to the Tent of Meeting.

  Men let her family pass, but a glower of distrust followed her sisters.

  God had been faithful in abundance. She had His pledge of land in an amount to support five orphaned women. Praise be.

  A short distance from the gathering place, Mahlah halted. She lifted her hands toward the stars. “Let us give thanks to a God who gave wisdom to a daughter of Jacob. May He guide us into the Promised Land.”

  Her sisters raised their hands in praise.

  Mahlah beheld a vibrant star. A star that brightened and then faded into the shadowed heavens.

  24

  Early the next morning, Mahlah lay awake facing the tent flap and remembering every harsh word spoken at the assembly. The scorn from the crowd threatened to dampen the joy of being a future landowner. How could her people condemn her boldness when God had agreed with her? The Most High had granted her the right to inherit property in her father’s name.

  The scuffle of sandals interrupted her thoughts. Leather slapped the path outside her tent. First one man stomped past. Then another. A woman wandering about at night would not make such noise. But were these footfalls friend or foe?

  Mahlah unlaced the tent flap and peeked outside. Men were on the move, but no trumpet had sounded for the camp to march. With the moonlight and a hard squint, she recognized a distant relative from another clan of Manasseh. A sword was strapped to his hip. He wore a short tunic that suggested her people were going to war.

  She glanced at her sleeping sisters and then hastily wrapped her veil over her head, flinging it around her shoulders. She emerged from her tent. Heart pounding, she jogged to catch her relative.

  “Helek,” she called, keeping her voice low. “Why are you leaving camp?” Surely the scouting of land would be done during the day.

  Her tribesman slowed his steps. The men beside him whispered in his ear.

  “Were you too busy rejoicing over your inheritance to hear Moses’ instructions?” He strode forward, passing Nemuel’s tent without answering her question.

  “Do you wish to go and kill the Baal worshipers with us?” His companion said, holding back a chuckle.

  “She is not in the top thousand warriors.” Helek angled toward the center of camp.

  “Not even in the top tens of thousands.”

  Fine. Let them jest. Was she to be an outcast for seeking land?

  Had Moses called an assembly before this battle? At least Moses would not slander her name.

  “Brother,” a man’s voice rasped.

  Mahlah stilled. She knew that deep, caress of a voice. And she did not have a sinew of strength to fight with Reuben once again.

  Flexing her fingers, she tugged on her head covering so her face stayed hidden behind a drape of cloth. She shifted closer to the nearest tent and waited for the men to move on.

  Reuben tapped the hilt of his sword and then slapped Helek on the back. The small band lumbered onward.

  Helek spoke into Reuben’s ear.

  Her blood became a cool stream.

  The men turned. Reuben turned. And gawked. At her.

  She captured their glares. Had she not fought for her inheritance in a crowd of jeering men? Her concern for her tribe this morn was not without merit. She did not wish for her people to perish.

  Reuben plodded closer to her while the men waited.

  “What are you doing out at this hour?” A faint hint of concern softened the grumble of his question.

  Easing from the shadows of the tent, she beheld Reuben’s rugged face.

  “I heard the scuffle of feet. I thought there might be an attack.”

  “Not on our camp.” Reuben grew taller as he puffed out his chest and cast a glance at the men filing down the pathways toward the Tabernacle. “You left the assembly before Moses gave a charge to the tribes. We are to take vengeance on the Midianites for seducing our men into idol worship. The best fighting men from each tribe will do the Lord’s work.”

  Visions of Balaam and the half-naked women clamoring for his affections, stirred her stomach.

  “I want to forget what I saw in the pit.” She swallowed the sour taste pooling in her throat. “Our God will not forget.”

  “Go home, Mahlah. War is no place for a woman.”

  “I know.” She hugged her waist as if the night had suddenly grown cooler. “I don’t mind continuing to watch over Jonah.”

  Helek let out a low whistle.

  Reuben acknowledged their tribesman and then returned his attention to her. “Toda raba.” He winked and then backed away, holding her captive with an esteemed gaze. “Remember me in your petitions to God. May I be as brave in battle as you were in the assembly.”

  He nodded and joined the fighting men of Manasseh.

  With a slight bob of her chin, she nodded back. Nothing wild. Nothing meek. Nothing to display the geyser of delight springing from her soul. Reuben had not been indignant or rude. He had simply been the boy who lived a tent away from her all her life. He had simply been Reuben.

  And it was then, as Reuben and the men of Manasseh marched off into a swarm of tent tops, that deep in her heart she reasoned, even if it was for acquiring land, she grew weary of war.

  25

  Days later, nothing had changed, yet everything had changed. Land had been granted to her and her sisters in their father’s name, but regular duties continued. The daughters of Zelophehad set to their tasks in haste and in silence
as warriors trickled into camp from the battle against the Midianite seducers.

  Hoisting a water jar onto her shoulder, Mahlah headed toward her tent. She wound through pathways where women and children labored. Since the assembly, Nemuel had not spoken to her. No elder of Manasseh, nor any other tribe, publicly chastised her fortitude, for no elder dared to malign Moses or their God.

  Praise be.

  Her own cooking courtyard brimmed with activity. Without complaint, Basemath and Hoglah stoked the small acacia wood fire. Milcah and Tirzah ground manna, heads down, wrists twisting in earnest.

  Jonah jumped off a sitting stone and charged like a bull toward her legs. He reached for a lift.

  “I cannot hold you with one arm,” Mahlah said. “I will spill this jug of water.”

  “I thirsty.” Jonah swiped a hand across his forehead as if sitting had been strenuous work.

  Mahlah laughed. “Did your aunt and Hoglah push you into labor?” She set the jar by the tent lead.

  “If only I could set that boy to a task.” Basemath rose and dipped a cup for a drink. “I pray my brother hurries home from war.”

  “We pray for Reuben and all of our fighting men.” Mahlah pressed her lips together. She did not want to remember the harsh words spoken at the assembly. How could any of the men of Israel have known what God was going to bestow upon her family? Daughters had never been granted an inheritance. Until now.

  She wished to remember only the acknowledgement of her presence which Reuben had given before going off to fight. He could have ignored her and rushed off with her cousin Helek. Instead, Reuben made her believe that a few of the tattered threads in their relationship had been mended.

  Jonah tugged on her robe and pointed to the basket of manna. “Bread?”

  The boy’s expectant thick-lashed eyes were a vision of his father’s. Reuben’s son not only tugged on her garment, he tugged on her heart. She took his hand. “It looks like we have enough ground for a feast.”

  Hoglah set the flat cooking stone over the fire. “God has blessed us abundantly this morn.”