Among the Gods (14 page)

13

T
HE SKY WAS JUST TURNING LIGHT
when Prince Amariah stumbled into the rented market stall in Nahshon with his wife. Jerimoth took one look at them and clung to his sister Dinah, weeping like a child. “I’ve been insane with worry, praying for a miracle … and here you are. Thank God, thank God!”

But Amariah knew they were still in great danger. One sole survivor from among Hadad’s troops had staggered into the booth not long before them to tell Jerimoth how he had narrowly escaped the king’s soldiers.

“Did you see any sign of Joshua or Miriam?” Amariah asked the young recruit.

“No. I was hiding in one of the trenches along the road when I heard Joshua yell for us to run—that it was a trap—so I ran. I don’t know what happened to anyone after that.”

“We’ll wait for Joshua and Miriam,” Jerimoth said firmly. “If one soldier made it … if you and Dinah made it … please, God, maybe the others will, too.”

As fear and uncertainty consumed him, Amariah wondered for the hundredth time if he had made a mistake to trust General Benjamin. He studied Jerimoth’s worried face and knew he had to tell him what he had done.

“Dinah and I didn’t escape on our own. I had help. General Benjamin captured me, and I talked him into defecting. He says he’s coming to Egypt with us. He’s going to meet us here in a little while.”

“God help us.” Jerimoth sank down on a bale of straw as if his legs could no longer hold him. “Can you trust him?”

“I don’t know. It might be a trick. He wants to capture Joshua very badly. Look, maybe you and Dinah should leave now and start back to Egypt before the general comes. I’ll wait here with the caravan in case anyone else escapes.”

Jerimoth shook his head. “That won’t do any good. If it is a trap, he’ll be watching our booth.”

“So I’ve betrayed us all?”

“Or saved us all. Only God knows which.”

The marketplace came to life shortly after dawn. Two of the Ishmaelites Jerimoth had hired conducted business outside the stall, haggling loudly over their spices, while Amariah and the others waited behind the curtain in the rear of the booth. Jerimoth urged him to get some sleep, but Amariah was too tense. He nibbled on some bread and waited, his stomach a knot of anxiety.

When General Benjamin suddenly stepped past the curtain, armed and in his uniform, Amariah leaped to his feet. The general’s features were inscrutable as he turned to Jerimoth. “Who are you?” he asked gruffly.

“I’m Jerimoth ben Eliakim. I own this caravan.”

“Joshua’s brother?” When Jerimoth nodded, the general turned his gaze to Dinah. “Who’s she?”

Amariah was ashamed to admit to the general that he had entangled his wife in this mess. Only cowards involved women and children in their schemes. He put his arm around her shoulder. “She’s my wife.”

Benjamin studied her. “You’re Lord Eliakim’s daughter, aren’t you? She’s not your wife, Amariah. She’s your brother’s concubine.”

Anger raced through Amariah so swiftly he could barely grab onto it and wrestle it down. “Dinah was kidnapped by my brother and held against her will! She freely consented to marry me!”

“Hadad told us she was dead. Is she the reason he betrayed you and Joshua?” The general’s canny intuition amazed Amariah.

“Hadad was in love with her, yes.”

Benjamin turned to the soldier. “You the only survivor?”

The abrupt change of topics surprised Amariah until he realized that this was an interrogation. The general wanted the entire story of their ill-fated plot.

“I’m the only survivor so far, sir.”

“How many men were in your commando squad?”

The soldier didn’t answer. Amariah’s mind raced, looking for the snare. In the end, he couldn’t see what difference it made for the general to know. “We had thirty-two men, not counting Joshua, Hadad, and me.”

Benjamin was silent for a moment as he stroked his beard. “Twenty-eight of your men have been either captured or killed, so far.”

The small amount of food Amariah had eaten rose to his throat. Twenty-eight stupid, senseless deaths. Even if Amariah made it out of Judah alive, how could he ever face their families? If only he had opposed Joshua and his insane idea.

“So do we leave now?” the general asked. “Or wait for Joshua and the last three men?”

Amariah realized that the question was addressed to him. Benjamin showed neither eagerness nor anxiety, and his calm control struck Amariah as out of character for a career soldier to whom loyalty was vitally important. He didn’t act like a general who was about to desert his duty and his king.

Jerimoth stood. “You may all leave if you’d like, General, but I’m going wait for Joshua and Miriam.”

Before anyone could respond, another one of Hadad’s men suddenly stumbled into the booth. He was nearly weeping with relief until he saw General Benjamin.

“It’s all right, the general is with us,” Amariah assured him.

“Are you alone?” Benjamin asked. “Did anyone else escape with you?”

He shook his head, fighting tears, and Amariah realized that the soldier was even younger than he was. How could Joshua allow Hadad to pick such inexperienced men?

The general folded his arms across his chest. “Tell us your story.”

“The king’s soldiers are everywhere. Hundreds of them. They caught my brother Reuben and so I … I had to crawl most of the way on my stomach.” He lost control and began to weep. “What happened, my lord?” he asked Amariah. “I was on top of the ridge, and I saw Joshua kill Colonel Hadad and then—”

“
Joshua
killed Hadad?” the general asked in amazement.

“Yes, then he told us to run. Was Colonel Hadad really a traitor?”

Amariah nodded. “He was working with King Manasseh to capture Joshua and me.”

“But what about all of us? Colonel Hadad wouldn’t let all of us die like that! He—”

“Did you see where Joshua went?” Benjamin asked abruptly.

The lad wiped his eyes and drew a shaky breath. “Over the cliff.”

“Did he fall? Jump?”

“He climbed over the edge. That’s the last I saw of him.”

“What about Miriam?” Dinah asked.

The soldier looked at his feet. “Colonel Hadad killed her, ma’am.”

“No!” Dinah cried. “She was Hadad’s friend. He wouldn’t kill her.”

“I saw him push her over the cliff.”

After all that she had endured the past few days, the news about Miriam’s death seemed too much for Dinah. Amariah let her collapse into his arms and grieve. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I never should have let Miriam go. She would still be alive if she had stayed with us.” He wanted to weep at the futility of her sacrifice. All of Hadad’s men had been captured anyway, except for these two. “I hope you realize that you owe Miriam your life,” he told his two men. “If she hadn’t gone back to warn Joshua, neither one of you would be here.” They nodded mutely.

General Benjamin walked to the door of the booth. “My men never searched the area near the base of the cliff. Joshua might still be there. I’m going to look for him.”

“Wait!” Amariah leaped up to stop him. If the general captured Joshua, he would have no reason to fear the king, no reason to flee to Egypt with them, and every reason in the world to turn them all over to Manasseh. “Joshua is armed, General. He won’t know that you’re on our side. He’ll fight like a wild man if he’s trapped.”

Jerimoth stepped forward. “Let me go look for him. I’ll take the caravan and a few of the Ishmaelites. You stay in the background, General, and make sure your troops let us pass through.”

Amariah couldn’t read the general’s face as he pondered Jerimoth’s offer. “All right,” Benjamin said at last. “I’ll rejoin my men for a while longer so they don’t become suspicious. I’ll be back.” He ducked out of the stall.

“Are you sure we can trust him?” one of the soldiers asked when he was gone.

Amariah sank down on the bale of straw. “No … but we’ll have to. We don’t have any other choice.”

Joshua awoke after dawn, furious with himself for falling asleep again instead of praying. And he should have been keeping watch. It wasn’t like him to be so careless. The sun was blinding, and his head ached from his need for water. His mouth felt as dry as sand.

He sat up and suddenly the earth tilted, whirling crazily, as if he had drunk too much wine. He closed his eyes and lowered his head, waiting for the sensation to pass. When he felt the dull throbbing of his shoulder and thigh, and saw how inflamed and swollen the wounds had become, he understood why he felt feverish. The wounds never would have made him ill like this if he had cleansed them right away.

His fever intensified his thirst. Joshua scanned the area where he sat, desperate for even a drop of dew clinging to a leaf or a blade of grass. The sun was already too high; if there had been moisture during the night, it had long since evaporated in the scorching heat.

He turned to Miriam and felt her throat for a pulse. His touch awakened her. Her face was as pale as death, her voice weak.

“Why are you still here?” she murmured. “You said you’d escape after dark.”

“I know I did. But I can’t leave you all alone out here.”

“I want you to live.”

“We’ll either get out of this together, Miriam, or we’ll die together. I’m praying that we’ll live.”

She closed her eyes and moaned. A thin veil of sweat shimmered on her forehead. “I’m not sure how much longer I can stand this pain.”

“Are you in pain? Where?”

“My legs …”

“Miriam, do you understand what that means? You can feel something! Even if it is painful!” Joshua began to hope that she might live. God was answering his prayers. He uncovered her feet and massaged them gently. “Can you feel that? Can you feel my hands?”

“They’re so hot! Your hands feel like they’re on fire!”

He saw no reason to tell her it was from a fever. He continued massaging her feet and legs, silently praising God. “Does that help at all, or am I making the pain worse?”

“Yes … no … I don’t know,” she wept. “Do you really think the feeling will come back? And that I’ll live?”

“Yes. I have faith in the power of God.” Joshua felt so ill he wanted to collapse again and go back to sleep, but he continued to massage her limbs as his mind slipped toward delirium.

“I’m so thirsty,” Miriam said after a while. Joshua licked his parched lips, craving a drink, too.

“I know, but I don’t want to leave you all alone while I go look.”

“I’ll be okay. Please go.”

“All right. Maybe I can find something to eat, too.” As he stood, another wave of dizziness nearly felled him. He covered her with the broken tree branch to shield her from the sun and hide her from view. Joshua knew he was too sick to go, but for Miriam’s sake he ignored his own pain and started forward on legs as stiff as planks, limping on his injured ankle as he skirted the base of the cliff.

He told himself to stay alert, to search for water, to watch for soldiers, but his mind wandered hopelessly from those tasks as he stumbled over the dry, rock-strewn ground. His head ached so badly that he wanted to lie down and close his eyes, but he wanted a drink of water even more. He willed his feet to keep walking. The arid ground was baked dry, waterless.

After too many fruitless minutes of searching, Joshua remembered that he had seen a road from the top of the cliff. Maybe it led to a village, to a well or a spring. He headed in what he hoped was the right direction, staggering through brown knee-high grass.

He found the road and—thank God!—there was a wide shimmering pool of water in the middle of it! He limped toward it, laughing and weeping, his feet tripping over each other. But the closer he got to the pool, the smaller it shrank until the mirage faded and vanished before his eyes.

Joshua sank to his knees, too weary to rise again, and crawled to the side of the road to rest in a patch of shade beneath a stunted bush. He couldn’t think what to do. He must not give in to his fever. He had to find water, he had to get back to Miriam. It all seemed impossible. The sun’s glare multiplied the agony in his head, and he closed his eyes to escape it. He awoke to the distant creak of wagon wheels, the rumble of hooves. The sun was high overhead. Joshua cursed himself for falling asleep. A frantic voice inside told him to take cover, to find a place to hide in case the figures moving slowly toward him were Manasseh’s soldiers, but his body felt as paralyzed as Miriam’s body was. He couldn’t will himself to move. He watched in horrified fascination as the procession moved closer and closer, wishing only for a drink of water before the soldiers killed him.

As the men walking in front of the caravan drew nearer, Joshua saw by their brightly patterned robes and flowing keffiyehs that they weren’t soldiers after all but Ishmaelites. He had a brief, feverish memory of making plans with Jerimoth to escape with a caravan of Ishmaelites if anything went wrong.

Everything had gone wrong! Hadad had betrayed them, Miriam had fallen, and Joshua had killed Hadad instead of Manasseh. But this couldn’t be Jerimoth’s caravan of Ishmaelites. They were traveling in the wrong direction. This road led to Jerusalem—Egypt was the other way. He wondered if the traders were friendly, if they would give him some water or sell him into slavery like Joseph. Did Ishmaelites still do that?