“And what charms do you use to keep a man faithful to you?”
I walked away, out of earshot, shaking my head in wonderment. While the men were following their savage instincts, murdering, burning, looting, the women were following their instincts, too, learning how to subdue and tame their men.
For some time I walked aimlessly among the tents. The only men in the camp were children or grandfathers. The women clustered in little groups, like those with Helen, whispering among themselves and occasionally glancing at the burning city.
“Orion,” a strong voice hailed me.
I turned and saw Joshua standing in the shade cast by the striped awning extended over the front of his big tent. A humid breeze bellied the awning slightly and made the woven wool fabric strain against its creaking ropes. I could smell moisture in the breeze, and the sweet fragrance of date palms. The fire from the city was sucking up air from the river valley.
Several of the older priests reclined around Joshua on benches or the ground. They looked tired, spent, slightly ashamed.
“You have Jericho,” I said to Joshua.
“Thanks to the Lord our God,” he said, then added, “and to you.”
I bowed my head slightly.
“You have performed a great service for the God of Israel and His people,” said Joshua. “You will be rewarded amply.”
“I appreciate the gratitude of your people.” Somehow I could not bring myself to say that I was happy to have helped them. “In a day or so my men and I will continue on our way… southward.”
He knew I meant Egypt. “You are certain that you want to go in that direction?”
“Quite certain.”
“It is what she desires, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Orion, why spend your life as a woman’s slave? Stay with me! Be my strong right arm. There are other cities to consider. The Philistines on the coast are powerful enemies.”
I looked into his deep, glittering eyes and saw the same burning light that glowed in the eyes of the Golden One. Madness? Or greatness? Both, I thought. Perhaps the one cannot exist without the other.
“I have no quarrel with the Philistines or anyone else,” I said. “And I have my own reasons for going to Egypt.”
“You are tied to a woman’s skirts,” he taunted.
I replied. “I seek a god in Egypt.”
“A false god,” Joshua snapped. “There is only one true God…”
“I know what you believe,” I said, before he could go further, “and perhaps you are right. Perhaps the god I seek in Egypt is the same one that you worship.”
“Then why seek him in a land of slavery and tyranny?”
“Egypt is a civilized land,” I countered.
Joshua spat at my feet. One of the old white-bearded priests who had been listening to us climbed arthritically to his feet and, leaning on a staff, pointed a bony finger at me.
“Egypt civilized? A land where the king orders the murder of every Israelite baby girl, simply because his ministers have told him that our numbers are growing too fast? That is civilization?” His weak old voice trembled with anger. “A land where our whole nation was enslaved to build monuments to the tyrant who slaughtered our infants?”
I blinked at him, not knowing how to answer.
“We fled from Egypt,” said Joshua, “with nothing but the clothes on our backs and what little goods we could carry. Their king sent his army to find us and bring us back. Only the miracle of our Lord God saved us and allowed us to escape. We spent years wandering in the wilderness of Sinai, willing to starve and go thirsty in the desert rather than return to slavery. No, Orion, do not think that Egypt is civilized.”
“But I must go there,” I insisted.
“To find the God who in truth resides among us? Stay with us, and God will bless you.”
“The god I seek is worshiped by many peoples, in many ways. To some he is the god of the sun…”
“There is only one true God,” the old priest intoned. “All other gods are false.”
“He told me to seek him in Egypt,” I blurted, nearing exasperation.
The old priest staggered back from me. Joshua’s face went white.
“God spoke to you?”
“This god did.”
“In a dream?”
I raised my arm to point at the distant riverbank. “There, by the river, a few nights ago.”
“Blasphemy!” hissed the old priest, pulling at his long white beard.
Joshua shook his head, an almost smugly understanding expression on his face. “It was not the God of Israel you saw, Orion. It was a man, or a false vision.”
By definition, as far as he was concerned. All very neat. I decided it was senseless to argue with them. If they knew that the god they worshiped was the one I had promised myself to kill, they would have torn me to pieces on the spot. Or tried to.
“Perhaps,” I conceded. “Nevertheless, I must go to Egypt.”
Joshua said, “That is a mistake, Orion. You will be better off staying with us.”
“I can’t,” I said.
Joshua said nothing in reply. He merely spread his hands in a vaguely dismissive gesture. I took my leave of him and headed back toward my own tent, my insides churning with the realization that Joshua was not going to allow us to leave — willingly.
As night spread its dark cloak over the ruin of Jericho, the men came tottering back to camp, stained with blood and carrying the riches of the oldest city in the world. In twos and threes they made their way back to their tents, where their women waited for them. The men were silent and grim, the memories of their atrocities just beginning to burn themselves into their consciences. The women were silent, too, knowing better than to ask any questions.
Lukka brought his two dozen soldiers back in a group, each of them staggering under a load of silks, blankets, armor, weaponry, jewels, even precious carvings of ivory and jade.
“We will enter Egypt as rich men,” he said to me proudly, once the loot was arrayed at my feet by the light of our campfire.
Softly, I said to him, “If we enter Egypt at all, it will be despite the efforts of Joshua and his people.”
Lukka stared at me, his dour face half hidden in the flickering shadows thrown by the fire.
“Keep the men together, and be ready to move swiftly when I give the word,” I told him.
He nodded curtly and immediately started the men packing up the loot and storing it in our wagons.
Helen was more impatient than ever to leave, and when I told her of my misgivings, she demanded, “Then we must flee now, this night, while they are drunk with their victory and sleeping without sentries posted.”
“And what about the next morning, when they find we’ve left? They could easily overtake us and force us to return.”
“Lukka and his soldiers could hold them off while we escaped,” she said.
“And die giving us a few hours’ head start on our pursuers?” I shook my head. “We’ll leave, but only when I’ve convinced Joshua to let us go.”
She grew angry, but realized there was no other way.
That night I slept without dreams, without visiting the realm of the Creators. But in the morning I had formed a plan for dealing with Joshua. It was simple, perhaps even crude. I hoped it would work.
All that day was given to ceremonies of thanksgiving and atonement, the priests singing hymns of praise to their god in melodies that sounded somehow mournful and melancholy. The people of Israel arrayed themselves in their finest garments, many of them taken from Jericho, and gathered in ranks, tribe by tribe, and joined in the singing. I saw that although the words of their hymns were directed at their invisible god, their eyes were directed toward Joshua when they sang words of praise. He stood before them, decked in a long robe of many colors, silently acknowledging their homage.