Lioness: Mahlah's Journey Read online

  Setting Jonah down as gently and possible, she stormed toward Basemath like the lioness that heathen priest had claimed her to be.

  15

  You shall have no other gods before me. The command from her God roared through her conscience. Mahlah ripped the gold armlet from her cousin’s arm. Had Balaam given her cousin this trinket on purpose? Did the sorcerer delight in branding a Hebrew girl with the image of a pagan god? Or had another bestowed this golden image on Basemath? Even sober, Basemath would have accepted jewelry of value.

  Mahlah covered the engraved image with her palm and fled from the tent.

  A collective gasp came from the crowd of her kinsmen gathered outside. Did they believe her family dead? Nemuel collapsed into the dirt.

  “Stoke the cooking fire.” Mahlah grabbed a log and threw it on the waning orange coals. Sparks burst into the night shadows. “Hurry. We don’t have much time.”

  “My wife,” Nemuel wailed.

  Milcah and Tirzah raced in front of an older woman and poked at the growing flames with sticks. An aunt came forward and arranged new wood on the stirred-up fire.

  Mahlah held the armlet with Baal’s image over the fire. She dropped the gold band in the center of the fiery coals.

  “Char that gold. It belonged to a pagan priest.”

  Her sisters gasped.

  Another clanswoman screamed and scampered from the fire pit.

  “What is this madness?” Nemuel rose and stumbled toward the flames. “There are no idols in my tent.”

  “There aren’t now, but I can’t be sure your daughter wasn’t given any other tainted gold.” Mahlah swiped her hands together to remove the feel of the band. “Every jewel in your tent must go into the fire.”

  “We will burn it all good.” Tirzah placed more kindling on the rebirthed flames.

  “No, no. It cannot be.” Nemuel reached for her sleeve.

  Mahlah did not have time to argue with her elder or explain her actions further. Dodging his grasp, she fisted her hand. “Do not challenge me. I know of what I speak.” She scanned the crowd for Abishua, but he had abandoned his kinsman. “That was the first trinket to go, and it won’t be the last.”

  “Leader,” Milcah said. “Let’s ask God for mercy.”

  Others echoed her sister’s request for prayer.

  Nemuel nodded; despair etched in his brow.

  Mahlah dashed inside the tent and filled a satchel with all of Basemath’s jewelry. Not a single bauble remained on the girl’s body.

  You shall have no other gods before me.

  Had Basemath given any gold to her mother or Hoglah? Mahlah couldn’t risk disobedience to God’s command. She slipped every ring, bracelet, or bead into her bag. Her gaze swept the tent for the tiniest of stones. She would not let Balaam and his false gods endanger her family further.

  “Curse you, Balaam. Curse you for stealing our goat. Curse you for trying to defile my family.”

  One step. Two steps. Three. She whipped open the tent flap and hurried toward the fire’s roaring flame.

  “The Lord is our God, the Lord Alone,” she shouted as she tossed gold and jewels into the vibrant yellow-orange blaze. “Do not remove these from the ashes. We will bury them, so the plague does not strike our tribe anew.” Turning, she spoke, half to herself, half to the ramskin in front of her, “I must change the face cloths.”

  “I will assist you.” Milcah abandoned her stick.

  Tirzah stomped toward the tent. “We want to help Hoglah.”

  “Wait.” Mahlah held out her hand. Her nerves twisted tight. Should she allow her sisters to tend the sick? Was the engraved band the only cause of the plague? She licked her lips, but no moisture clung to her skin.

  God, give me wisdom.

  “You shouldn’t worry.” Milcah rocked on her sandals as if was contemplating sprinting into the tent. “There is no sign of the plague on your skin.”

  “What if it comes later?” Mahlah bit her lip. “I don’t know what I would do if I caused my family to fall ill.”

  “We won’t get sick,” Tirzah offered. “We prayed.”

  If only these little ones knew the depths of evil she had seen near Shittim.

  “I believe in you, Mahlah. Like father did.” Milcah stepped closer to the tent flap. “With three of us tending our family, the plague doesn’t have a chance.”

  Mahlah opened the flap. A windstorm would be easier to thwart than her sisters.

  “Lord, honor our devotion,” she said as she ushered her sisters inside.

  In the flickering lamplight, Hoglah sat bent forward, her arms resting on her knees. “I don’t feel right. My head is pounding.”

  Milcah offered her sister a cup. “You’re speaking. That’s a good sign.”

  Mahlah checked Jonah’s forehead. His skin had cooled from earlier. “Praise be to the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. The fevers seem to be going.”

  Jonah grasped her arm. “I hungry.”

  Mahlah’s heart soared to the heavens at Jonah’s request. “It’s almost time to gather fresh manna.”

  Tirzah’s hand shot toward the tent top. “I’ll go gather it.”

  “So loud.” Basemath rolled onto her side. “My ears hurt.”

  “That’s from fermented grapes, not our voices.” Susanna struggled to rise from her mat. “I would have said I dreamed being ill, but my body is like one of those rags.”

  “To see you move is a blessing.” Mahlah reached over and squeezed her friend’s hand. “Praise the Lord. He has answered our prayers and spared this tent.”

  A melody came to Mahlah. “Our God is the faithful God. He keeps His covenant of love. To a thousand generations.”

  “Of those who love Him,” Milcah sang.

  “And keep His commands.” Tirzah’s voice rang out strong.

  Hoglah joined in the singing.

  Basemath covered her ears. “This is causing me more pain.”

  Jonah giggled. Once. But even a small snort was a victory.

  Mahlah set Jonah on her hip. She offered the boy a drink, her muscles relaxing with every sip he took.

  A few women peeked into the tent.

  “Manna is forming, one woman said. “We will harvest some for you.”

  “Toda raba.” Mahlah swayed side-to-side with Jonah in her arms. “We have a hungry boy, and we have plenty of fire to heat a stone.”

  A smile of gratitude graced Susanna’s face. “Husband, come sup with us.”

  Nemuel shuffled inside the tent, tears flooding his face.

  “My family lives. God has answered my prayers.” He embraced his wife and almost knocked Mahlah over as he wrestled Jonah from her arms.

  The elder lifted the boy in the air. “My heir is alive. God has shown us His favor.”

  Favor? Mahlah stood, gaped-mouthed, as Nemuel smothered Jonah with kisses. God had shown mercy, but didn’t her kinsman care about what had drawn his daughter into a pagan pit? What about her own faithfulness to family and to their God?

  Another woman barged into the tent. Now that the plague was gone, the entrance had become a trade route.

  “Noah?”

  Fists embedded in her hips, her sister said, “I’m glad there is rejoicing in here because Abishua is raising havoc in my field.”

  16

  Mahlah’s knees almost buckled as she rushed toward her sister. In all the chaos of the night, she hadn’t sent word to Noah about the pit nor the plague. She didn’t want to pull their shepherdess from the fields after the accusations that her family relied too heavily on their kin. And with the plague, well, Noah would have barged right into Nemuel’s tent and chastised their wayward neighbor, fever or no fever. That possibility could come to fruition even now if Noah lingered.

  She grasped Noah’s hand and pulled her outside and toward their empty tent. The rest of their family did not need to hear the sordid details from the pit.

  Huffing, Noah followed.

  “I cannot believe you left the camp wit
hout me. Without a word.” Noah’s harsh tone held a hint of hurt. “I knew I should have questioned Jeremiah’s absence.” She paced back and forth, her arms berating the air. “Why does one need a donkey after dark?”

  Leaning forward, Mahlah grabbed hold of her sister and kissed her cheek.

  “Oh, Noah. I needed you here. If I did not return, someone would have to care for Tirzah and Milcah.” She inched backward. “How much do you know?”

  “Everything.” Noah’s deep brown eyes bore into Mahlah. “Our elder was furious. He demanded to know if his sons worshiped Baal. He said you named them as witnesses to your journey and the lawlessness at the pagan orgy.” Noah rubbed her forehead. “I should have known to question Jeremiah when he returned with Eli. That man has never spent one night with his father’s livestock in all our years together.”

  “Where is Eli now?” Abishua had a quick temper.

  “Taking care of our sheep.”

  “What?” Flashes of the reprimands on the trail caused her stomach to cramp. She readied a rebuke. “I don’t want—”

  “Abishua insisted.” Noah poured a drink from the lone water jar alongside their tent. “I knew you’d be upset, but he wanted me to come and help you tend to our kin. This is fitting for Eli. Jeremiah was so distraught by what he saw in the pit that only I could understand his motions and relay his words to his father.”

  Mahlah, too, wished to banish Balaam’s face and his followers from her memory. “Until tonight, I never realized how frustrating it is to speak with Jeremiah.”

  “It’s not too difficult.” Noah grinned. She sipped some water and offered a drink to Mahlah. “I’m accustomed to it.”

  Mahlah sighed. “I’m sorry you had to find out about this night from Abishua. I wish this day had never come to pass.” She swallowed the last of her drink. “Perhaps we should get back and oversee our sisters.”

  “Not right away. At least not for you.” Noah clutched Mahlah’s robe. “You need to rest. That is what I am going to tell Nemuel and the young ones while you leave camp and seek out Reuben.”

  “Reuben is back from battle?” Mahlah’s heart sparked anew.

  “Yes, victorious and unclean. He stopped me on my way into camp.”

  “He sought you out?” Her glee plummeted to her bruised toes.

  “Don’t look at me like that.” Noah’s expression became stern, not sisterly. “He had a message for you. Not me. Who better to bring a word to camp than someone who traipses in and out all the time?” Noah scanned the neighboring tents. “He can’t return for five more days until he is clean from bloodshed.”

  Had Reuben thought about her while he was away at war? Mahlah walled off her heart lest it shatter again. Reuben might seek another girl for his wife. “What did he want to tell me that couldn’t wait?”

  A few women hurried by to collect manna.

  Noah feigned a giggle. Leaning in close, she sobered. “Moses is going to count the families of Israel. War and the plague have diminished some of the clans. God wants Moses to number the fighting men.”

  Number the men? Mahlah’s hopes diminished. She tossed her cup by the water jar and let it lay on the ramskin lip of the tent. “Our father left no sons to be counted.” Did Reuben mean to forewarn her? Cool her temper so she wouldn’t speak out and grumble? Like her father. “I don’t care for his message.”

  “You most of all should care.” Palms held high, Noah formed a barrier in front of her. “Our soldiers have taken cities and land. Land, Mahlah!”

  “But I am not a son or a soldier. Neither are you.” And she had seen firsthand Nemuel’s disregard for the women in their clan. He had rejoiced over Jonah’s healing, not his daughter’s.

  A storm wind released from Noah’s mouth. “Go to Reuben and ask him yourself about Moses’ decree. The fighting men of Manasseh are stationed near our livestock.” Noah tipped her head in the direction of her field.

  A throb boomed between Mahlah’s temples. Conversing with Reuben rekindled feelings she had pressed down for years. But Reuben had always been kind to her. Was he being kind now? Was there more to his message that she did not understand? Reuben, don’t cast me a fool.

  “Won’t the men be wearing loincloths?” She bit her lip at the thought of finding Reuben in a mass of scantily-clad men.

  Noah clapped a hand on Mahlah’s shoulder. “I have faith in you, sister. Your wisdom and bravery saved Hoglah and our relatives. If you are worried,”—Noah winked—“take one of father’s cloaks and a blindfold.”

  She would need more than a blindfold to suppress her feelings. When Reuben was present, the air and her body warmed like a brick oven.

  17

  Twitch. Twitch. Twitch. Mahlah’s eyelid drooped. Of all the times to have a spasm. She needed keen eyesight to spy out Reuben in a crowd of battle-weary men. She shouldn’t complain. Because of the success of her clansmen and her people, there were new cities and new land to occupy. But the stain of blood meant seven days outside of the camp in custom with God’s laws on cleanness.

  Mahlah cradled her father’s cloak in one hand and held her eye open with the other. Sheep bleated and scattered as she stomped through their fields. She avoided Eli and Jeremiah’s areas. They may whisper about why she’d wandered from her family.

  Passing a neighbor’s herds, she slowed her steps and gawked. On the far outskirts, men lounged against trees and rocks, lazily conversing in small groups. Some lay on mats trying to sleep in the shade, their skin mostly bare. Legs sprawled from beneath blankets strung for temporary shelter.

  Breathing deep, Mahlah coughed. With so many men and so much dirt, the air hung heavy with dust. Her nerves screamed for her to whip around and run.

  Reuben would not have sought Noah if his message wasn’t important. Surely, he knew the counting of men would upset her, so why did he feel the need to share Moses’ decree?

  “God give me strength.”

  Unfurling her father’s robe, she held it over her head to shade her face and so as not to be easily recognized by her kin.

  “I seek Reuben ben Nemuel.” She lowered her voice to sound like a man and forced the words from her mouth. Her summons carried over the mumblings of the fighting men. “Of the clan of Hepher.”

  “Hepher?” a man echoed. He lumbered closer. He dipped his face beneath her shroud and opened his arms as if expecting an embrace. “Are we not worthy of you, woman?”

  What had Noah gotten her into? She should have questioned her sister’s plan. Abiding in the fields with shepherds had caused her sister to be more brazen than most women.

  Mahlah pulled her father’s cloak taut beneath her chin. This stranger would not get one peek at her form. “I received a message from my kinsman, Reuben ben Nemuel.”

  “If a woman appears, perhaps we should all send messages.” His guttural laugh brought her to the attention of other loungers. “What is another day in the shade?”

  Her cheeks grew hot. She came because she was summoned. She did not wander around as a harlot.

  “I seek Reuben. None other.” Backing away toward the washing jars, she slipped a hand under the folds of cloth and held it upon her knife.

  “I’ll be your Reuben.”

  Her pursuer did not retreat.

  More men rose from their mats and joined in her humiliation.

  Ears thrumming, she halted by the tallest water jar. If anyone came too close she would push the vessel over and drench their feet in mud.

  Drawing to her full height, she whirled her father’s cloak in the air. These men would see her strength. Oh, please Lord; let these men see my weapon.

  “I am a daughter of the clan of Hepher. I seek Reuben, son of Nemuel.” Her throat burned from her declaration. “Tell me where my neighbor lies.”

  The growing group of men cast glances at one another. One shrugged. A few chuckled.

  Footfalls came from behind the tall jars.

  The hair on her arms stood at attention. She whirled around, bracing for
an attack.

  “Mahlah?”

  “Reuben?” Her heart skipped and plummeted to her belly. “Praise God. It is you.”

  And it was him. Bare chested with muscles etched into his arms. A wave of desire surged through her body. To be held in those arms, against that chest. Her knees grew limp.

  Stop those thoughts.

  Don’t faint. Not here. Not among these warriors.

  She threw her father’s cloak over her head and perched there in the middle of unclean fighting men, shrouded like a nervous bride. Better to seem mad than to be sinful.

  “We do not need witnesses to our words. Go back to your rest.” The command in Reuben’s voice sent a cool stream swirling through her veins.

  The shuffling of sandals stirred the ground.

  “Now go!”

  Her knees nearly buckled. Never had she heard Reuben be so forthright and forceful. She prayed he would not set his fury upon her for her arrival.

  “Mahlah, what brings you out of camp?”

  His voice did not hold the wrath from moments ago. He spoke in his calm manner, a manner that had drawn her heart to him as they had come of age.

  Withdrawing the cloak so she could see, she beseeched herself to look only at Reuben’s eyes. Nothing else. Solely the eyes. Eyes she could picture even after he married another.

  “I came—”

  “It’s Jonah? My son.” Horror filled his face. He reached out to her, stopping before he made her unclean.

  “No, it’s not.” She shook her head, so he would see her earnestness. “Jonah is fine now.”

  “Now? What do you mean?” His gaze bore into her like a starving vulture assessing its prey.

  How much should she tell him? All of it? About the pit and his sister? The plague in his tent? This wasn’t the time. Not when he was confined to the outskirts, left to worry for days.

  “He had a fever, but Jonah is well now. He was complaining of hunger when I left.”

  “So, you were with him?” He stepped backward, his hand massaging his brow.

  Her heart ached. She wanted to always be with him. With Jonah. Her life was somehow fuller with their smiles.