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THE OFFICIAL MOURNING period for Moshe was 30 days. Shortly before it was over, Salmon was summoned to Y'hoshua's command post one night.
The runner who brought the message instructed Salmon to say nothing about where he was going, or why. Salmon had no inkling of the purpose, so that part was easy.
Salmon couldn't help but be intimidated, as he entered the Command Post. Inside the tent was one of only two survivors out of all the grown men who left Mizraim many years ago. Not only that, but he was the commander of the entire army. It was only natural for Salmon to fear he was in some sort of trouble...but he couldn't remember doing anything bad enough to warrant a meeting with the General of the Army and Judge of the Nation.
The runner escorted Salmon to the tent door. There he nodded to the guards and gestured for Salmon to enter.
Salmon gritted his teeth and stepped inside.
The tent was sparsely furnished. Y'hoshua sat on a cushion of burlap, facing a low, wide table cluttered with stacks of parchment. Many of the parchments appeared to be maps, while others looked like rosters.
Standing, facing Y'hoshua across the table, was a man in priest's garments. He looked familiar. Salmon had seen this L'vim sitting around the fire with soldiers from Yissakhar, Z'vulun, and Y'huda–including a handful from Salmon's own fifty.
Y'hoshua looked up as Salmon entered, and he briefly forced his mouth into the form of a grin. "Ah, there he is."
Salmon stood at attention and saluted. Y'hoshua acknowledged the salute with a nod. He was an old soldier not concerned much with formality. But his cool expertise in battle, from the time of his youth, was legendary throughout Yacov.
"Thanks for coming by," Y'hoshua said, as if a soldier had any choice when summoned by his commanding general. He gestured to the floor. "Relax, men. You can take seats."
The priest, seemingly not as intimidated as Salmon, turned to grab a cushion from along the wall, and sat on it, facing the general. Salmon followed suit.
"Salmon, I've heard good things about you," Y'hoshua said. "I understand you're the one who thought up the idea for training, that Kalev has been suggesting to me."
Salmon nodded. "Inter-tribal sparring? Yes Sir."
"Have you two met each other?" Y'hoshua asked gesturing between Salmon and the L'vim.
Salmon had heard that the other man was also son of the High Priest. "I've seen him around, Sir. But I'm not exactly sure of his name."
The priest turned his head to face Salmon and gave him a smile of greeting. "Pinchas," he said. "Son of Eleazar. Nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you," he replied. "Salmon, son of Nachshon."
"I called you both here for a special assignment," Y'hoshua said. "I know we're not quite done mourning yet, but I've got an army to command, as well as a nation to lead. We're close to starting the last campaign in this war, and some military considerations have to take precedence."
Salmon nodded. Pinchas raised his eyebrows.
"Everything I'm about to tell you is classified. You are not to discuss it with anyone, at any time, until I declassify it. Understood?"
"Yes Sir," Salmon said.
"Understood," Pinchas said.
Y'hoshua pulled one of the maps from a stack, set it in its own space on the table, and motioned both of them to lean in for a closer look. "I need the two of you to scout the west side of the Yarden. I need detailed intelligence on Bet-Yariq in particular. Defenses; troop strength; dimensions and composition of the walls; guard shift schedules–if you can get it; how many Gibborim are there; what is their morale; and what do they know?"
Salmon puffed his cheeks. This was a lot to dump on him out of the cold.
Of course Y'hoshua knew it was a dangerous assignment–he himself had been sent on a similar mission long ago. He and Kalev were the only surviving scouts from that reconnaissance.
"Both of you are quick on your feet," Y'hoshua continued, pointing to his temple with one index finger. "And I've been told you're both good at memorizing things. You're going to need that. Can't risk being caught with drawings or any sort of notes you take along the way."
Salmon said nothing, but wondered how their chief decided he was fast on his feet and had a good memory. Somebody must have sung his praises up the chain of command.
He felt a pang of guilt about his reputation from the battle against Arad. He had been green, impetuous, and more than a little lucky. Others were not so lucky; yet it was Salmon who was treated like some sort of mighty man.
"When do you want us to go?" Pinchas asked.
Y'hoshua leaned back, locking eyes with both of them, in turn. "When I dismiss you, return to your tents and get ready. You'll be leaving tonight during Third Watch. You'll need to pack light. Take a sword, a sling, a gourd, and some simple bedding. You'll have to forage for food. Plan on returning in a week." The old general rocked forward and pointed to a spot on the map. "We'll have moved camp by the time you return. Close to the river–right about there."
Both men took a close look at the spot indicated.
"Do you have any questions?" Y'hoshua asked.
Salmon knew there must be several important questions to be asked, but he could think of only one at the moment. He nodded toward Pinchas. "No offense meant to him, or any of the priests, Sir, but shouldn't I be going with another soldier?"
Y'hoshua frowned, but Pinchas' face betrayed no emotion.
"I have reasons for my choice, Lieutenant," was Y'hoshua's stern reply.
AFTER ENTERTAINING all the questions each man could bring to mind on such short notice, Y'hoshua dismissed them with a warning not to tell anyone they would be leaving, and to pack in secret.
As they left the command post, Pinchas walked beside Salmon a ways. "Don't worry, Salmon: I know how to handle a weapon."
"Again: no offense, friend," Salmon replied. "But you wouldn't want me trying to do the job of a priest. And I'd feel better going by myself than being yoked to a priest trying to do the job of a soldier. Handling a weapon is fine, but it's not the same as being trained for battle."
"This is a mission for spies," Pinchas said. "Not soldiers. If we find ourselves in a battle, we've probably done our jobs poorly. Besides, L'vim are trained. Who do you think guards the camp when the army is away?"
Salmon didn't see the point in debating. The decision was made. He had to do his duty whether he agreed with it or not. He pointed northwest. "There's a tall cedar in the middle of a grove about half a league past the edge of camp. Think you can find it in the dark?"
Pinchas tilted his head back, glancing at the two orbs–one white, one red–dominating the night sky. "There should be plenty of light by that time."
"Right. I'll meet you there in the Third Watch."
"See you then," Pinchas said, and veered away, toward his tribe's camp.
