Lioness: Mahlah's Journey Page 16

  Susanna approached the donkey. Her eyes sparkled as bright as the hues in the rainbow.

  “I will watch over Jonah. Go quickly and find a few for all of us.”

  Grasping Tirzah’s wrist, Mahlah scanned the procession. People still trekked across the banished Jordan, arms raised, mouths open in awe. The crowd thinned near a massive boulder. The natural barricade made backtracking safe, for a moment. Little feet could get trampled with oxen and carts on the move to cross into Canaan.

  “Hurry.” Mahlah reversed her stride and sprinted toward the river. Tirzah gripped her skirt and charged like a skittish goat.

  Dodging, sometimes leaping, they made their way to the river bed. The lush foliage on the bushes stood as a testimony to the goodness of this land.

  Tirzah reached under the fronds of a fern trampled by frenzied feet.

  “Look at this one.” She held up a tiny oval of onyx.

  “Shhh. Keep your hand low and put the stone in your bag,” Mahlah said. “We can’t have thousands mulling through the dirt in search of treasures.”

  “There’s a few more under here,” Tirzah whispered.

  “Ask and it shall be given.” Mahlah bent over and helped her sister stand. “Did you get a fist full?”

  Tirzah nodded.

  Mahlah briefly blocked the procession of clans and angled Tirzah toward their family. The fortress of Jericho loomed over its outlying terraced fields. The hues of green from emerald to malachite to grape leaf contrasted with the sunbaked browns of the desert wilderness.

  “Why aren’t we going toward the city?” Tirzah clutched her satchel to her breast.

  “We are to follow Joshua. Only he and God know when we will attack the city.”

  Tirzah’s brow furrowed. “Won’t the people believe in our God after they see this miracle?”

  Would the inhabitants of Jericho worship the God of Abraham? Mahlah shifted her head covering into place. What would she have done after seeing a flooded river parted?

  “What does our Shema say?”

  “To love God with all our heart and soul and strength.” Tirzah’s voice rang out with no hesitation.

  Mahlah’s own heart almost burst with pride to hear her sister pronounce Moses’ teaching.

  “Then I believe if anyone behind those stone walls turns from their idols and believes in the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, our God will spare their life.”

  Tirzah cocked her head and smiled. “I believe you, Sister.”

  “Tovah. Good.” Mahlah maneuvered Tirzah around two crying toddlers. “Because wherever Joshua leads us this day, we will march.”

  “More marching?” Tirzah whined.

  Mahlah embraced her sister.

  “Oh, little one, we will march until we get our inheritance. And now, we are one river closer.”

  33

  Hoglah scrubbed an arm across her forehead. “I am ready for a meal.”

  Mahlah was too, but Joshua led the tribes east, not far from Jericho, but far enough for her to crave a rest.

  “At least we are not carrying the large stones from the river.”

  The sun overhead heated Mahlah’s hair like a fiery flame. A grove of oak trees grew as if to touch the shortest ray of light.

  “God is showing us another display of His majesty. Look at those grand oaks. I have never seen such stature.”

  “You are almost as tall as those trees.” Milcah laughed from her new perch atop the camel.

  Mahlah had taken charge of the beast when it decided Milcah’s hair and head covering were best chewed and eaten for food.

  Nemuel stalked her direction, hands waving.

  “We are camping at Gilgal.” He pointed in a southward direction. “We will stake our tents as before between the Benjamites and Ephraimites.”

  Praise be. She did not know how much farther she could walk without draining their waterskins.

  Yawning, Tirzah leaned back on their donkey. “I thought we were going to live in houses made with stone.”

  Jonah nuzzled into Tirzah’s chest.

  “We will have our own dwelling and land soon enough,” Mahlah said. “And then I will hear how you are bored and want to travel to search out different stones.”

  “Not for a long while.” Tirzah rested her cheek on Jonah’s windswept curls.

  Mahlah set their tent not far from Nemuel’s, and with the sun drooping almost as fast as her sisters, she left Hoglah to cook the quail that had wandered into camp. Even in Gilgal, God sent provisions for His people. Tirzah and Milcah sat around the fire pit poking at the kindling with sticks. Susanna had claimed her slumbering grandson. Jonah traipsed wearily after his grandmother, still clutching his carved staff.

  Mahlah grabbed a water jar.

  “I will check on Noah and bring us water from the nearest well.”

  “Is there one nearby?” Hoglah rotated the spit.

  Mahlah opened her arms. “Look around you. This place sprouts grass and blooms like none other I have seen. I trust the farmers that have fled to Jericho will have left their wells uncovered.”

  “Don’t fall in.” Hoglah smirked.

  “I see your mind is not tired.” Mahlah laughed. “I will be back before the meat is charred.”

  The scent of wet fur rose from the fields on the edge of camp. Herds and flocks trampled land wetter than the desert surrounding Shittim. The air smelled like her tent after a pounding rain.

  She spotted Jeremiah stationed by a fir tree. Alabaster-colored cloth slung from a sturdy lower branch. Noah’s newest lamb tried to trot on its legs. The ewe rested not two feet from her babe.

  Mahlah shrugged and then swept her hand in an arc. She zigzagged the curves of a woman’s body.

  “Where is Noah?”

  Jeremiah pointed to her water jar and then toward the outskirts of camp.

  She guessed her sister had gone to the well.

  “You let her go alone?” Plenty of her tribesmen staked tents close by, but this was still foreign land. For the moment.

  Jeremiah scowled.

  Holding a hand over his eyes, Jeremiah rotated his body as if he was searching for someone.

  “No Canaanites are around. They’re all afraid?”

  He nodded.

  “I’d lock myself in that fortress, too. Only our God can control the waters.” She trudged in the direction Jeremiah had indicated. “We will need our rest to battle against Jericho.”

  Why did she even bother to comment? To Jeremiah, she was only moving her lips.

  Mahlah quickened her pace as the sky darkened. She stomped past a few cattle and a throng of noisy goats.

  “Is the well near,” she called to a shepherd boy.

  “By the tree.” He indicated another oak.

  She bobbed her head.

  Good. Not far.

  As she neared the fawn-brown trunk of the oak, a few ravens shot into the shadowed heavens. A few hovered, flapping their wings and cawing like disgruntled men yelling out questions in the assembly.

  Had she disturbed the birds? Had Noah?

  The circular stone well stood in the middle of a small clearing. A bucket perched on its ledge while a jar nestled next to its base.

  Where was Noah?

  Bushes rustled on the far side of the well. Saplings swayed. Twigs snapped.

  Had Noah spotted something in the brush?

  She squinted into a graying haze.

  Noah thrashed at leafy bushes. Was she caught in a vine? Had one of her sheep wandered off? Or was a predator on the prowl?

  Mahlah gripped her jar and charged forward with a battering ram made of pottery.

  As she grew closer, mudded faces turned her direction. Linen-colored eyes and alabaster teeth glowed amongst the brown, green, and gray shadows.

  Tremors wracked her body. These weren’t small trees. These were men. Men covered with branches and leaves. Men intent on not being seen. Canaanite men.

  Spies.

  A deep guttural cry roared from he
r throat, burning her windpipe.

  With her arms tensed, she thrust her jar into the nearest face. Hardened clay struck skull. The vessel’s base broke apart. Blood splattered her fragile weapon. One spy crumpled to the grass.

  Noah flailed her arm.

  Another spy broke from his assault of her sister. His hand lowered and ripped something free from his waist.

  She knew that motion. The unsheathing of a blade. She had a knife, too, used it often, but never to slice the flesh of a man. Not even a heathen one.

  He was close. Too close. He meant to kill, and she was the closest enemy to slay.

  She clutched the shattered jar in front of her chest.

  “Oh, God of Jacob, be my shield.”

  34

  Mahlah’s knife was on her hip, not in her hand. Should she attack with her jagged jar? And where should she strike?

  The spy shouted. His command came out harsh and battle ready. He sprang, thrusting his weapon upward at her neck.

  Pagan!

  She raised her pottery piece. His blade chipped the edge, but the force of the blow, cracked her defense. Her clay shield crumbled.

  No Canaanite was going to take her life, her inheritance, or her land. Bracing her legs against the soil, she pounced, using her well-marched thigh muscles to focus all her weight upon the spy’s knees.

  She rammed his legs with her body.

  He buckled and slammed against another spy. They both fell.

  Prone on the ground, the Canaanite couldn’t slice her throat. He would have to stab her and that required a change of hold on the knife’s handle.

  Mahlah scrambled to her feet. She unsheathed her blade.

  “Go! Run Away.” She assumed the stance of a fierce warrior, one similar to the men of Asher who battled in her courtyard. She pointed her knife at her twig-covered foe.

  Noah, in a stupor, stumbled to Mahlah’s side. Blood seeped from Noah’s mouth. She reached toward the ground.

  “Leave us be.” Mahlah slashed her knife at the two Canaanites that remained upright.

  God, I’m claiming Your promise of protection. Now.

  The familiar thud of leather hitting grass emboldened her skittish heart.

  Fools. They hadn’t taken Noah’s whip.

  A shout in Hebrew came from the darkness behind the spies. Another warning. Then another.

  Two spies darted in the direction of the river.

  Mahlah shoulders sagged. She tried to sheath her knife, but the simple motion sent a jarring pain across her body.

  Men swaggered through the brush into the small clearing. Fighting men with ridged arms and swords slung on their belts. She recognized their worn leather and strong-jawed faces. Her tribesmen had returned. Praise God.

  A commander rushed to the bodies of the fallen Canaanites.

  “Spies.” Noah indicated the direction the assailants had fled. “They ran toward the river.”

  A man stalked Mahlah’s direction.

  She knew those eyes, so fierce, yet caring. A father’s eyes. Jonah would be jumping all around his tent.

  Reuben grew closer. His beard had filled out. His hair curled at the ends.

  She meant to call to him, to her Reuben. But her chest ached, and the ache grew, consuming her thoughts. Her breaths didn’t bring enough air. She gasped.

  Noah coiled her whip.

  “Sister, why are you so still?”

  Mahlah couldn’t answer. Her response sputtered in her throat.

  Slumping to the ground, she held her ribs and prayed for the pain to stop.

  Why shouldn’t the consuming ache go away? God had answered her prayer earlier. He had sent her a legion of angels. No, he had sent her the fighting men of Israel.

  35

  Noah rushed to Mahlah’s side. “What is wrong?” Her cheek bore scarlet streaks of blood from her fight with the spies. She inspected Mahlah’s robe. “Did his blade strike you?”

  Mahlah breathed in, little by little, trying to fill her lungs to speak. Every puff brought a stab of pain.

  “My chest struck that heathen’s knee when I dove at his legs.” Her lips trembled, but she attempted a smile. Her mouth tasted of grass and river weeds. “If only you had gotten to your whip sooner.”

  “It was only because of you that I could get to it at all.” Noah righted Mahlah’s head covering. The cloth had hung like a braid down Mahlah’s back.

  “Mahlah.” Reuben knelt before her. He glanced at their surroundings as if wary of another attack. “What is this about a knife? Were those spies seeking prisoners or sport?”

  “Neither.” Noah dabbed at her split lip. “I heard something in the bushes. A faint rustle. I thought livestock had wandered off. When I neared where the spies hid, one reached out and grabbed me.” She rubbed Mahlah’s shoulder. “If my sister did not keep a close watch on us, I would be floating in the river.” Tears welled in Noah’s eyes. “My brave sister.”

  “Brave, no. Stubborn, yes.” Mahlah winced. “You would have done the same for me.”

  She gripped her side and glanced at Reuben. His hair and beard matched the black of the shrouded sky.

  “Why is it that I believe both of you would have come to my aid.” Reuben’s gaze scanned her body, not in a scandalous manner, but as a friend concerned about injury. His breaths puffed like storm winds. “Rest here.” He stood and conversed with another warrior.

  Mahlah eased toward Noah and rested her forehead against her sister’s brow. “We have traveled too far, and we have fought too hard not to receive our inheritance.” She struggled to speak. “This land is ours, and I mean to settle it with my sisters. All of them”

  “And we will claim our land.” Noah grasped her sister’s arm.

  Bracing a hand against the ground, Mahlah rose.

  “Sister, can you carry your water jar.” Mahlah took a short breath. “Mine is useless, and I believe we will need to wash.”

  “I believe after that fright, I could carry ten vessels.” With a kiss, Noah headed toward the well.

  Jeremiah and the shepherd boy rushed into the clearing. They met Noah by the stone wall.

  Mahlah took a few steps and then halted.

  “You should rest a while more.” Reuben hovered at her side. His beautiful eyes held the same intensity as the night he’d recognized her presence before going off to war. “I could fetch a cart, and you would not have to walk.”

  She shook her head.

  “You should not wait for me. Your family will be overjoyed to see you.” She took a few steps and stopped. “One time Jonah saw a man in the desert. He was so happy.”

  “He thought it was me?”

  She grinned. “He thought it was you. He has been watching for your return.”

  Reuben matched her shortened steps. The glow of the moon sparked a tiny fire in his eyes. “I pray he was not the only one who watched for me.”

  Her heart rate quickened, sending an ache across her rib cage. She pressed down the hope that lingered in his question, lest she stumble and cause herself more pain. More pain from her injury. Carrying a love for Reuben had always caused her pain. “It was by another well, before we crossed the river, that Jonah and I saw a man walking at a distance.” She pushed forward on the path toward camp, joining the fighting men journeying home to their families. Mentioning Moses’ appearance would cause more conversation. She kept that revelation to herself. “Jonah and I both thought the traveler was you.”

  He slowed to a shuffle.

  “You thought of me?” His voice held a hint of surprise.

  How could he not know? Her blood ran hot. If daylight reigned, her neck would have blushed scarlet. She had thought of him more than she should have, and not only during prayers. “At times, I thought of you.”

  Reuben stilled. Sheep mulled in the fields. His fellow warriors traipsed toward camp. Rows of tent tops glowed like ghosts in the night, but Reuben did not move. Not toward his home. Not toward anything. Anything, but her.

  “T
here were times I thought of you, too.” His broad shoulders and mane of hair loomed over her. He was not much taller than she, but in the starlight, he was a mountain of a man.

  She swallowed, but her saliva stuck in her throat like a mouthful of manna. Shaking her head, she rallied her voice. “I don’t believe it. Was there talk of my thievery of Helek’s cloak? Maybe my forwardness in the assembly.” The ache in her chest overwhelmed her entire body. She dipped around his frame. “I am fodder for gossip, not praise.”

  “I do not believe that foolishness.” Reuben stalked beside her. It reminded her of the times when they were children, and he attempted to coerce her to do some task. She usually denied his request, chin upturned, and then did it later anyway.

  “Every time I saw new land we had conquered, I thought of you. Every victory brought you to my mind. How you fought for land to carry on your father’s name. How you honored God by seeking His wisdom.” His passionate speech soothed her like cassia balm.

  Was this the same man she sent into battle?

  “You speak too highly of me.” Her bones grew weary as they passed her flocks. “I think I sought the land out of fear. Fear my sisters would leave me, and I would have nothing.” If only her father had not perished. She willed her eyes not to drip tears onto her cheeks. “I want to make a home out of stone and sit on a stool and watch children race around the yard and wheat grow in the fields and watch my flocks graze on a thousand hillsides. Isn’t that why we battle for Canaan. For God’s gift of land?”

  “Yes, Mah—”

  “Would you please tell Jeremiah my scratches are not his fault.” Noah interrupted their conversation.

  Arms crossed against his tunic, Jeremiah tapped his sandal and sulked. The young shepherd boy hovered at his side.

  “You did not send her into trouble.” Mahlah pointed at Jeremiah and waved sideways. She cut her movement short as discomfort seized her. “My sister cares too much.” With a thumb motioned toward Noah, Mahlah placed a hand on her heart and slowly indicated the flocks in the field.

  Jeremiah’s expression remained stoic.

  “I can tend to her tonight.” Mahlah reached for the water jar. A twitch of pain radiated across her ribs, and she dropped her arm. “She can attend to the herds in the morning.” How on earth would she mimic her words?