Pearl in the Sand (25 page)

The man’s eyes grew large with shock. A curious gurgle erupted from his throat, and a froth of blood flowed out of his mouth, running down into his dark beard.

As the man crumpled, Salmone grabbed the dagger from his belt. “If you’re not going to need this, I guess I’ll take it.” He wiped his bloody sword on the man’s tunic and scanned the area for the man with the knife. He had seen the man start toward Ai as the
smoke began to rise, but now saw him standing a ways off, still looking toward the city.
He’s still in throwing range
, Salmone realized. He knew he could loose the dagger and kill him in one quick movement, but the idea of sinking a knife into a man’s back didn’t appeal to him. In combat, no one would frown on such practice. Nonetheless, he couldn’t quite reconcile himself to the notion. He felt it somehow beneath him.

In the distance, he saw the larger force of Israel’s army emerging from Ai and running toward the battle. He knew the knife-wielding man would be caught with the rest of his comrades between Israel’s two forces without a hope of escape. Shrugging his shoulder, he turned back into the conflict close at hand.

Within the hour, the battle thickened as both forces of Israel drew close, surrounding the men of Bethel and Ai. Their enemies now fought with the desperation of fear rather than the bravado of victory. They fought with a reckless ferocity that required all of Israel’s skill to repulse.

Salmone found himself fighting a wild bear of a man who wielded an ax, which he also used as a club. Salmone worked to keep his head attached to his neck, prancing around the colossal figure like a Canaanite dancing girl. Near him, Hanani was fighting a wiry man who wielded two swords with substantial agility. Salmone noticed that Hanani was struggling against his opponent, remaining on the defensive, trying to parry thrust after relentless thrust.

He realized he’d need to assist Hanani soon, but the bear he faced required his entire attention. He ducked low to escape a blow, and swung his sword at the man’s legs, trying to cut him off from below. The man jumped a full cubit into the air, easily avoiding Salmone’s sword. Salmone looked at him openmouthed before rolling hastily out of the way of the club-like swing of the ax coming down toward his head as the man landed back on the ground.

Salmone took a few steps back, bringing him close to Hanani. “Hold fast. I’ll be with you soon,” he yelled. He noticed that Hanani hadn’t the energy even to nod.

Salmone’s opponent lunged with his ax, and Salmone spun to avoid being disemboweled. As he did so, he noticed the knife handler who had attacked him earlier, standing five cubits away, a knife held at the ready in his dexterous fingers. His gaze was fixed on Hanani.

N
o!” Salmone shouted. He looked around him, desperation coloring his movements, and saw there was no one to help but him. It was his fault. Pride had driven him to ignore a dangerous foe, and now his friend would pay the price. “No,” he said again, this time in a whisper. He lifted his sword high, leaving himself completely open to the frontal attack of his opponent’s ax. The man came at him without hesitation. Just before impact, Salmone twirled in a full circle so that the ax missed him by a hair. He brought his sword down under his arm and behind him at an impossible angle which the ax man had not anticipated. It landed with a sickening sound into the exposed side of the man. With a grunt, he folded.

Salmone wasted no time in freeing his sword. Instead, he reached into his belt and pulled out the knife he had tucked there earlier. Almost in slow motion, he saw the man with the twirling knife lift the hilt, take aim and begin his throw. In the same moment, Salmone realized Hanani’s opponent had managed to block Hanani’s sword with one of his own and was about to thrust his second sword into Hanani’s stomach. It would be a deadly blow.

Salmone’s breath caught. Two opponents—two lethal attacks, both trained on Hanani. The two-handed sword man stood closer, his throat conveniently exposed. Salmone took quick aim and threw. The wiry soldier took the dagger in his jugular and crumpled to the ground with a great gush of blood. In the same fluid motion, Salmone pitched the full weight of his body into Hanani, knocking him to the ground. But the body-slam placed Salmone where Hanani had stood an instant before. Exactly where the dagger was flying. There was no time to evade it. With a force that brought Salmone to his knees, the knife penetrated his belt and robe and sunk into his stomach. The impact was excruciating, and then came a curious numbness.

Hanani sprung to his side looking as white as the sands they kneeled on. “No, no, no! O Lord. O Lord, help us!” he cried.

Salmone’s whole body began to shake with such violence that he pitched backward. Hanani caught him just in time to prevent him from hitting the ground hard, bruising his skull and adding to his injuries. He set his friend down with careful hands. Salmone managed to reach up and grab a handful of Hanani’s garment. “Pull this thing out of me,” he gasped.

Hanani looked at him with eyes that were wide and tear-filled, and shook his head.

“Do it. Quickly.”

Hanani stared into the sky for a moment, then wrapped his hand around the hilt of the dagger and pulled hard and fast. The pain was beyond anything Salmone had ever experienced. He screamed in agony, unable to silence the sound that came out of his throat, animal-like in its intensity. He was still conscious, taking labored breaths, his mind stricken with torment, yet clear. “Now get him,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Before he hurts someone else. Use the dagger.”

Hanani nodded and stood, holding the knife that dripped with his friend’s blood. Through a haze of pain Salmone raised his head, and noticed that Hanani had to wipe the tears from his eyes to be
able to see. The knife man was trying to run out of their range, but the field was littered with men fighting and fallen, and it slowed his progress. Hanani took careful aim and let the dagger fly. It dropped the man in mid-stride.

For a moment Salmone lost his hold on consciousness, his head lolling back on the dirt with a thud. He came to in Hanani’s arms, feeling queasy and weak. “Oh, Salmone,” Hanani moaned.

“It will be all right.”

“It’s my fault. Forgive me. It should have been me.”

Salmone wanted to shake his head, but didn’t have the strength. He looked down and saw the copious flow of blood staining his garments and soaking the ground. It looked mortal to him. He swallowed and closed his eyes.
Lord, have mercy on me
. He forced his eyes open again and tried to focus on Hanani. “The guilt is not yours. I had a chance to kill him earlier and didn’t.” He lifted his head to examine his bleeding belly. The effort caused beads of sweat to stand out on his brow. “Looks bad, Hanani. If I don’t make it, make sure my sister is well-cared for.”

“Take care of your own sister. Don’t you dare entertain thoughts of death. You stay alive, Salmone Ben Nahshon, or I’ll beat you to a pulp.”

Salmone gave a trembling half smile. “Go finish this battle, Hanani. I’ll be fine here.” He saw Hanani hesitate, agonizing over leaving him alone. “Go.”

Hanani nodded. Untying his sash, he placed it under Salmone’s head before running off. Salmone stared into the sky. It had turned into a beautiful day. White clouds dappled the horizon. A breeze rustled the trees, swaying them this way and that like royal fans. It had been so long since he had noticed the beauty of his surroundings.
Lord, is this the day I die? Into Your hands I give my life
. His breath caught as a stab of pain pierced through him, and for a few moments he was beyond coherent thought. As the pain diminished, he prayed again.
Please take care of my sister. Don’t let any harm come to her in my absence
.

Another face, very different from Miriam’s, floated through his mind. Large-eyed and full-lipped, it was a solemn face. A face filled with tenderness one moment and fear the next. A precious face. He took a laboring breath.
And Lord, take care of Rahab
. A sense of regret hit him with a force as sharp as the dagger that had pierced his stomach. Regret for what never was. He groaned. It was the wound that was making him think crazy thoughts. How ironic that his last thoughts should be of a Canaanite … no. He could not say it. He could not think it of her. Whatever she had been, she was a different woman now. Her past was not the measure of her. If he had to think of her in these final hours of his life, he would not demean or dishonor her.
Lord, she is a woman of faith. Take care of her
.

“What have you gone and done to yourself?” A familiar voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Joshua?”

“And who were you expecting—the king of Ai? Let’s have a look at you, young Salmone.”

“It’s not good. Please, will you promise to take care of my sister?”

“Let me have a look before you besiege me with demands.” Joshua’s hands attempted to be gentle as they examined the wound, yet Salmone thought he would be sick from the pain. A groan escaped him. Joshua stopped. “I won’t lie to you, son. This wound is grave. Fatal, perhaps.”

“I told you so,” Salmone said with a weak grin, enjoying the sensation of putting Joshua in his place for once. Darkness pulled at him and he stopped resisting. Anything to stop hurting. The last image his eyes saw was the sight of Joshua’s bent head, praying.

Rahab sat on the floor of Miriam’s tent making bandages. Since the deployment of Israel’s army into Ai, she had fallen into the habit of visiting Miriam for long hours each day. The younger woman, already a veteran at the harrowing business of awaiting the outcome
of wars, taught Rahab how to use her time preparing for the care of the wounded. Just outside Israel’s camp, a new tent had been set up to accommodate the young men who would return injured from battle. Rahab never doubted Israel’s victory. A conviction of their triumph undergirded her every thought. But she struggled with the knowledge that even triumphant battles could prove fatal for the victors. The thought paralyzed her with a fear she tried to hide from her friend. She was grateful that they prayed together often. They prayed for the protection of Israel’s young men, for God to sustain them, for the safe return of Salmone. Their prayers saved her sanity.

Now as she rolled up newly laundered bandages, she wondered how many might be wounded in the battle of Ai, and what kind of care they would receive upon their return. “Do you have physicians in Israel, or is it the women alone who take care of the sick?” she asked Miriam.

“We have several talented physicians. Zuph Ben Yudah is the most renowned. In fact, he left with Joshua’s forces three days ago, not as a soldier, but as a field physician to treat wounded men as quickly as possible. Speed saves lives. He has taught some of our women, I among them, how to prepare for the care of the wounded.”

“How did he learn his skill? You have been roaming from nowhere to nowhere for forty years. How was he trained?”

Miriam grabbed an alabaster pot and began filling it with honey. “Our parents were slaves in Egypt where the world’s greatest medical knowledge resides. Zuph’s father worked under a skilled physician from boyhood. The man took a liking to him, and shared some of his knowledge with him over the years. It must have been God’s doing. Egyptian physicians guard their trade secrets with jealous passion. Yet this one trusted his slave. When we left Egypt, Yudah brought his knowledge with him, and trained his son Zuph everything he knew.”

Before Rahab could respond, the tent flap flew open with great force and Hanani rushed in, forgetting even to first announce his presence to the women within.

Rahab and Miriam scrambled to their feet. Miriam gasped, “Salmone?”

“He’s been injured. He asks for you.”

“How bad?”

Hanani’s eyes filled with tears, and he looked down. Miriam let out a wail and turned into Rahab’s arms. Rahab felt the room begin to spin, but forced herself to hold Miriam, soothing her in this first panicked moment of discovery. She schooled her features into a bland mask of sympathy, trying to hide her own overwhelming response.
Salmone, no!