Daughter of Deliverance (7 page)

Caleb snorted abruptly. “He's either here or he's not. Now, which is it?”

“He was here a while ago, but I don't know where he went.”

“Yes you do. You're lying to me.”

Achan tried desperately to avoid telling the truth, but Caleb had an eye like a hawk, and there was no hiding the truth from him.

“Well, I know he's your nephew, so I don't like to get him in trouble,” Achan whined.

“You're going to be in trouble if you don't let me know everything. Now, where is he?”

“He's taken up with that woman from the tribe of Dan. Her name is Carphina.”

“She's a married woman.”

“I know it, Caleb, and her husband is a rough fellow. I tried to talk Othniel into staying here, but you know how he is.”

“Yes, I know how it is. Listen to me, Achan. The next time he starts to do something like this, you let me know right away. I won't have my nephew acting like he does.”

“But I can't be a talebearer.”

“Would you prefer to have your back scratched with a whip?”

“No, I wouldn't.”

“Then you mind what I say. He's my nephew, and he's not going to bring dishonor to my family. If his father were alive, he wouldn't be acting like this. Now he stays with you most of the time, so you're responsible for him.”

“I can't do anything with him, Caleb. He's strong-willed. He laughed at me when I tried to correct him.”

“He won't laugh at me,” Caleb said shortly, then turned and walked away.

Achan swallowed hard and wiped the perspiration from his forehead. He was deathly afraid of Caleb, for he knew the old man had a temper like a wildfire. He considered trying to beat Caleb to the woman's tent to warn Othniel but decided against it, knowing that he couldn't cross this man.

“Othniel, you're in trouble this time,” he muttered, then went back, sat down, and took a long swig from his jug of wine.

****

The Levites were kept apart from the other twelve tribes because they were different. God had commanded Moses to separate the tribe of Levi to be His special servants. They were to be the keepers of the Law, to furnish the priests to minister in the tabernacle, to make sacrifices, and to serve God alone.

Caleb spotted his son Ardon talking with his good friend Phinehas, the son of Eleazar, the high priest. “Ardon,” he said, “come over here.”

Ardon turned. “Just a minute, Father. We're not quite finished here.”

“Yes, you are. Phinehas, you're going to ruin my son's mind, filling it full of religious things.”

Phinehas was a tall man, lean and strong. He had a trim beard and a pair of steady dark eyes. He smiled at Caleb, who was one of his favorites. “Why, I'm surprised to hear you say that. Most men want their sons to be men of God.”

“He's already that.” Caleb was always mystified by the work the Levites did. “What do you do with this book that Moses has been writing all these years?”

“We're preserving it, Caleb,” Phinehas said. “We're making sure that it's kept absolutely accurate. Every letter is gone over by at least half a dozen Levites. Our scribes work night and day to preserve the integrity of the Law.”

Caleb listened and, after a pause, said, “Well, Moses approves it, so it has to be all right. Ardon, come with me. You can do your study with Phinehas later.”

“Yes, Father.” Ardon walked away with his father. Physically, he was much like Caleb—tall, strongly built, with black hair and the same hazel eyes, a wedge-shaped face, and a wide mouth. “What is it?”

Caleb's mind, however, was on Phinehas. “You know, that man is unusual.”

“He has a great mind, Father.”

“Wasn't talking about his mind. He's got a strong arm. Has he ever talked about how he killed Zimri and Cozbi?”

“No, he's never mentioned it. What happened?”

“I suppose you were too young to remember, but that devil Balaam polluted our people back when we were wandering in the desert. He sent a harlot named Cozbi to tempt one of our princes, a man named Zimri. Zimri brought her into the camp, right in the sight of everyone, and began to commit fornication with her. God was ready to kill us all for permitting such a thing, but your friend Phinehas grabbed up a spear, ran into the tent, and thrust them both through.” Caleb's face was grim. “Twenty-four thousand people died in a plague because of that sin, but God said that Phinehas would never be forgotten among our people. I remember clearly what God said:
‘I am making my covenant of peace with him. He and his descendants will have a covenant of a lasting priesthood, because he was zealous for the honor of his God and made atonement for the Israelites.'”

“Now that you mention it, I remember it vaguely, but I'm glad you told me the full story.”

“Phinehas is a great man, my son. Better than his grandfather Aaron, really.”

“How can you say that? God spoke to Aaron face-to-face.”

“Aaron also made the golden calves that nearly got us all destroyed, but that's enough about that. We're going to be leaving this place soon. I want you to go find Othniel and bring him to me.”

“What's he done now?”

“About the worst thing a man can do,” Caleb said grimly. He stopped and turned to face his son. “He's dallying with that whorish woman from the tribe of Dan, the one named Carphina. According to the Law, she ought to be stoned. Maybe she will be yet. Go get Othniel and drag him out of there.”

Ardon shook his head, his face registering the disgust he felt. “Othniel ought to have better sense.”

“He should have, but he doesn't. I wish his father had lived.”

“Othniel's not interested in anything but pleasure, Father.”

Caleb, distressed, chewed his lower lip. He examined the stub on his hand where the finger had been bitten off by a bear, as he often did when he was troubled. “He can change.”

“He hasn't changed since he was fifteen-years-old. When his father died, he started going downhill. Besides, men don't change.”

Caleb stared at his son, puzzled. “You really believe that, Ardon—that a man can't change?”

“You've lived many years, Father. You've had a lot of experience. How many have you seen change?”

Ardon's reply caused Caleb difficulty, and he couldn't answer. “Well, go get him,” he said.

“I'll bring him back if I have to knock him on the head.”

Caleb watched Ardon leave. Then he turned and walked back toward his tent. He studied the people as he walked through the camp, especially the men.
I wonder if this new generation will be any more faithful to God than the ones who died in the wilderness
. He was not the man of prayer Joshua was. Still, he had faith in God like a rock. “God,” he said, “we're going to need you. We can't do it alone, so be our helper in this battle that's shaping up.”

A stream of disgust rose in Ardon as he made his way to the section occupied by the tribe of Dan. His thoughts were consumed with Othniel, and they were not pleasant ones. The two had grown up as childhood playmates and had been inseparable. But as they passed out of childhood into early manhood, their pathways began to divide. Othniel was interested in having a good time and began seeking out young women early. He was a handsome, witty, and charming young fellow and had no trouble attracting their attention. He had little interest in religion, or in Moses' book of the history of Israel, and this was a matter of concern to Caleb, who had become Othniel's foster father after Othniel's father, Kenaz, had died.

Ardon was greeted by several of the members of the tribe of Dan. They were an unruly, quarrelsome group, and Ardon remembered the prophecy that Jacob, the grandson of Abraham, had given on his deathbed. He had identified the nature of each of his sons, and of Dan he had said, “Dan will be a serpent by the roadside, a viper along the path, that bites the horse's heels so that its rider tumbles backward.” A grim smile touched Ardon's broad lips. “Old Jacob got it right that time. Dan has some good soldiers, but they are not to be trusted.”

He stopped one of the young men he knew and said, “Where's the woman called Carphina?”

The young man grinned at him and pointed. “That red tent over there, but I think she's busy right now.” He snickered, and a wicked light touched his eye. “Her husband's gone on a hunting trip, but you'll have to wait your turn with that one.”

Disgusted with this news, Ardon left the young man, despising his lewd smile. He was proud of his family, the family of Caleb. And now to have their own flesh and blood dragging their name in the dust stirred his anger.

Nearing the red tent that the young man had pointed out, Ardon stopped and thought about what to do. Then he heard Othniel's voice and, without hesitating, stepped into the tent. It was gloomy inside after the bright sunlight, but light filtered in through several openings.

Othniel was lying on a couch with a woman by his side. They were both drinking, but when Othniel caught sight of Ardon, he exclaimed in surprise, “Ardon, what are you doing here!”

“What are
you
doing here?” Ardon snapped back, anger boiling up in him. “You're a disgrace, Othniel, dallying with a married woman.”

The woman was dressed in a clingy outfit that appeared to be blue silk. She had adopted the Egyptian method of cosmetics with the coal outlining her eyes, and she had arched her eyebrows. Her full, pouting lips were red with rouge, and her voice was shrill as she demanded, “Who is this, Othniel?”

“He's my cousin,” Othniel said, somewhat shamefaced.

“Well, he's got some nerve coming into my tent like this. Tell him to get out.”

Othniel swallowed hard and rubbed his hand through his thick reddish hair. “I think it might be better if you leave, Ardon.”

“Don't let him leave, Othniel. I would say he's all right.”

Ardon whirled around to see that another woman had entered the tent. She was past the first days of youth and was a little heavy. Still, there was a seductive light in her eyes, and she smiled and edged closer to him. “Introduce me to your friend, Othniel.”

“This is Danzia,” Othniel said hurriedly. “She's a friend of Carphina.”

“There's just four of us,” Danzia said with an inviting smile. “Just the right number for a party. We're late, but we can start in, Ardon.” She pressed against him and ran her hand across his cheek.

Ardon pushed her away disdainfully. It was not a hard push, but it was insulting.

The woman stared at him for a moment, her eyes burning. “You think you're too good for me?”

Ignoring the woman, Ardon turned and said, “Othniel, we're leaving.”

“Too good for me!” the woman called Danzia shrilled in a piercing voice. “I heard about you. Othniel said you're so good that you wouldn't eat an egg laid on the Sabbath. A holy man.”

“Close your mouth,” Ardon said sternly without even turning to face her. He took a step forward and said, “Othniel, you're going one way or another.” He heard the woman leave the tent shouting curses at him, but his eyes were fixed on Othniel. “Get up!”

“Wait a minute, Ardon, I'm not ready to go yet.”

Ardon stared down at the young man with whom he had been so close for so many years. Bitterness rose in him, and he shook his head, a painful expression on his face. “Don't you have any shame?” he demanded, his voice cutting like a blade. “My father's given you everything. He's treated you like his own son, and what's the thanks you show him? You make our name a disgrace in Israel….”

Othniel dropped his head and hunched his shoulders. It was almost as if he were receiving physical blows. Ardon continued to lash at him with his words.

Finally Othniel shook the woman's hand away from his arm and muttered, “All right, all right, I'm coming. You don't have to make such a bad thing out of it.”

“It is a bad thing,” Ardon said grimly. He gave one disdainful look at the woman and said, “You have a husband. That should be enough for you.”

Ignoring Carphina's curses, Ardon waited for Othniel, who grabbed his cloak, slipped on his sandals, and then shamefacedly crept out the door of the tent.

As soon as they stepped outside, Ardon became cautious. The woman he had rejected was there with three men, big fighting men.

“That's the one. He said I wasn't good enough for him and he hit me.”

“Nobody hit you,” Ardon said, not taking his eyes from the three men. “We're leaving.”

The three burly men all carried knives in their belts, and one of them had a club in his hand. He, apparently, was the oldest, and he scowled. “You're not going anywhere, fellow. You can't treat our sister like a whore.”

“Back off,” Ardon said. He had a knife in his belt, but he did not want to enter into a knife fight with three sturdy warriors. He started toward them, hoping to break their concentration, but as he did, the one with the club raised it and struck at him. Ardon's reactions were swift. He ducked his head so that the club went over it, and when the man grunted with the force of his blow, Ardon struck him a hard blow right where the neck joins the head. With a muted cry, the man sprawled on the ground. Ardon scooped up the club. He held it securely and turned to face the other two. They had separated now and were coming at him from different angles. One of them had drawn a knife.

“Put that knife away,” Ardon demanded. He had a hard time keeping his eyes on both men. Suddenly Othniel yelled and threw himself on the one who had not yet drawn his knife. Out of the corner of his eye, Ardon saw the two of them go down kicking and fighting. He knew that Othniel had little experience in this kind of fight, but at least he kept the fellow occupied. Ardon faced the knife bearer and advanced toward him, holding the glittering blade before him like an experienced fighter. He sneered, “You're going to regret this when you wake up in the morning.”