11

Holding her lamp high and glancing down every alley, Mahlah raced toward the outlying tents of the tribe of Gad. North would take her to the tribes of Ephraim and Naphtali, and in the direction of the River Jordan. She doubted Hoglah would travel such a distance.

Where were those gold-banded, brazen women escorting the leader of Gad? Had Hoglah and Basemath followed elders from camp? Or worse, had they followed half-naked foreign men to nearby towns? She shuddered at such folly.

Mahlah reached the edge of camp and waited. For what she did not know. A vast desert wilderness stretched before her. Shadowed acacia trees resembled crippled hands ready to pinch her from her home. Was she a fool to venture from her clan, her people? Was Hoglah crying to Noah about her woes? Mahlah blew the tepid air from her lungs. Noah wouldn’t listen to one word of complaint from Hoglah. Noah would chase her home and whack a shepherd’s staff at her heels. And Basemath? Their neighbor would not have the spine to show her face near Noah’s whip.

If Mahlah did not find her sister soon, more shame would be heaped upon the house of Zelophehad. Women who did not sleep under a family tent at night could be exposed as prostitutes.

“Give me wisdom, Adonai.”

A donkey brayed off to her left.

Her heart leapt into her throat.

She turned toward the snort.

Holding his hands high, the rider urged the donkey forward with a slight kick.

“Jeremiah?” Her muscles relaxed. A bit. What was he doing on the edge of camp? Why wasn’t he with Noah and the livestock?

Mahlah approached Jeremiah’s mount. Her clansman cocked his head. Was this his way of questioning her? Noah conversed easily with the mute, but Mahlah scrambled for a manner to explain her situation.

She pointed to her eye. “I’m looking for Hoglah.” Splaying five fingers, she grasped her thumb and held it to her breast. “Me.” She grasped the pointing finger. “Noah.”

Jeremiah grinned at the mention of her sister’s name. Perhaps her sister had jabbed him a few times with the same finger.

Rubbing her middle finger, she said, “Hoglah.” With a sweeping motion, she indicated the wilderness.

“I saw.” She touched her eye again. “A leader.” Straightening, she puffed out her chest. “Go with two women.” She displayed two fingers and pulled some hair free from its covering. Honestly, how did Noah manage with this young man?

Nodding, Jeremiah held up four fingers and pinched the smallest finger.

Youngest brother?

He grabbed his next finger and pointed into the outskirts.

Eli, Jeremiah’s brother, was missing, too.

“Take me with you.” She patted her shoulder and stroked the donkey’s mane.

Eyes wide, Jeremiah shook his head.

Mahlah wedged a fist against her hip and glared at the shepherd. Hopefully he could see her determination in her lamplight. “I’m going.” She took a step. Another stomp. Three.

Jeremiah jumped from the donkey. He caught her and laced his hands mimicking an assist to mount.

She didn’t need help getting on a mount. She shook her head and handed him her lamp.

Praise be. God had provided an escort. A clansman to protect her well-being and her reputation. She slung her shoulders back and mounted the donkey. “Toda raba, God of Jacob.”

Her mute shepherd grinned.

“And Jeremiah.”

He pointed to himself and then returned the lamp.

“Do you know where to go?” She shrugged and placed a hand to shield her eyes as if she were looking for something.

Jeremiah wedged the reins under his armpit and steepled his hands over and over.

“You know where a town is?”

Nodding, he turned the donkey into the night.

After a fair amount of riding, a glow banished the darkness. The aroma of burning wood hung over the landscape. Campfires. Jeremiah quickened his pace.

They trod closer to the outskirts of a Moabite town. Orange and amber flames brightened the indentation of a huge livestock pit. The ground rose into a mound on the far side of the sunken arena. Fire raged from an altar on top of the hill. Sparks spewed toward the stars.

Mahlah dismounted and rushed closer to the pit. Even with the warm waft of air from the raging fire, she shivered. Her skin tingled as if the embers singed her skin. This spectacle was not a feast, nor a celebration, for a cast image emerged from the vibrant flames.

Dancers flung their bodies round and round in front of a statue of a man whose head was longer than a flute. With no heed of decency, women pranced in a circle naked. Only the dancers’ gold armlets and anklets covered flesh. Pagans wiggled their hips in a disgusting manner. Saliva seeped into Mahlah’s mouth bringing with it the taste of olive oil from Tirzah’s cake. Her stomach flipped like a newly netted fish.

“Lord, help us.”

To his credit, Jeremiah did not ogle the spectacle before their eyes. His gaze scanned the mass of people whose bodies writhed in the dirt like worms. Mounds of discarded clothing cluttered the pit. Guttural moaning rose from the shadowed ground.

Mahlah heard Moses’ voice reciting the Commandments of God. You shall have no other gods. Definitely not this oblong-headed idol.

Her sister knew God’s commands. What possessed her to come to this pit?

Someone tapped her shoulder.

She gasped as a surge of frigid water shot through her body.

Jeremiah.

Her heart settled into place.

He pointed to a small huddle of people.

His brother Eli, Hoglah, and Basemath swayed in a circle, their arms slung around each other’s shoulders. Praise be their bodies were fully clothed. Her bow-strung nerves eased a notch, but only one, for she had to be on guard entering a pagan orgy.

Leaving her lamp near the donkey, she followed Jeremiah into the mass of revelers. With his broad shoulders and logs for arms, Jeremiah shoved frenzied Hebrews and heathens out of his path. Ignorant, drunken grins welcomed his aggression as a friendly embrace.

Mahlah ripped her sister from Eli’s hold.

“We need to leave.” She barked the command like her father and then wrapped an arm around her sister’s waist for support.

Hoglah’s head bobbed, but no recollection dawned in her half-lidded eyes. Her body was a baking stone upon Mahlah’s hip.

Basemath twirled, arms outstretched, as if to join another grouping.

Mahlah gripped her arm and tugged the girl toward her. “We are going back to camp.”

For once, Basemath was speechless. She focused on Mahlah’s headband as if it were bejeweled and not a band of leather.

Eli thrashed at his brother’s hold. Jeremiah bent Eli’s arm and held it behind his brother’s back. Eli swore. Jeremiah used his brother as a battering ram to escape the pit.

“Come. This way.” Mahlah’s shrieks disturbed a kissing couple. The man muttered at her in her own language. Had he no shame?

Why were her people participating in this idol worship? Did Moses know of this debauchery? Is that why Moses called a meeting of the tribal elders?

Head down and with muscles flaming, Mahlah did her best to propel Hoglah and Basemath in Jeremiah’s wide wake.

“Use your feet.” She made sure her words echoed in the girl’s ears.

Basemath sputtered a laugh.

The stench of fermented grapes filled Mahlah’s nostrils. Basemath stank the same as that scantily-clad harlot in camp.

Swinging her arms as if trying to crawl after their clansmen, Basemath’s golden armlets glistened in the firelight. She wore more trinkets than the altar prostitutes.

Hoglah’s head dropped like a boulder upon Mahlah’s shoulder.

“Lord, give me strength. I am but a yoke between two oxen.” Using her strong leg muscles, Mahlah pushed against the ground and barreled forward.

A cloaked form blocked her path.

She was in no mood for a confrontation with a drunken, love-struck Moabite or a bare-breasted Midianite.

Glancing upward, she stilled.

“Ah, we meet again, lioness,” the familiar voice hissed. “You have come to save your cubs.”