Samali tidied away the remains of breakfast, as Jethro and J’tan laughed convivially with a local goat herder named Badai.
Badai was a nomad, a member of an archaic race of people who still traversed the wastes of Sinai. For a man who had never been to a city, or even undergone any form of teaching, his knowledge, and his ability to speak multiple languages was impressive.
Samali took the small jar of goat’s milk Badai gave them in exchange for sharing their breakfast, sealing its lid with animal fat, and placing it in rear of the cave. The coolness found there would preserve it a few days and provide the supply of goodness essential to extended stays in the desert.
As she looked out into the valley, she caught sight of a woman staggering up the incline toward them. Whoever it was, they were very slight. Not much taller than her and no more heavily built. The woman wore a fine robe, which allowed the light from the early morning sun to pass through it and outline her delicate frame. Samali thought about going for the men, but decided she could handle the situation herself, and headed out to meet her.
As Samali got closer, it became clear the woman was in great distress. She lurched, stumbling on the slope, barely able to keep her head held high. As she staggered on, her chest heaved with her exertions, before finally she collapsed.
Samali raced across to where the woman lay. She carefully turned her over and checked she was still breathing, before recognition of the woman’s features made her to recoil.
Miriamne was barely recognisable as the proud queen Samali met in the harem. Her once elegant body was ashen, the life seemingly drained from it. Her face, once radiant and powerful, now drawn and haggard. Her cheeks covered in boils and pustules, and her lips cracked and scarred.
Samali scooped Miriamne up in her arms, her body almost weightless, and ran back to the men.
“Miriamne?” said J’tan, as Samali gently placed her in the back of the cave. “Are you all right?”
Miriamne coughed and spluttered, unable to vocalise a response.
Jethro struggled to hold back his emotions, his voice beginning to crack. “It is all my fault. I should never have brought her here.”
“She would eventually have come of her own accord, father. She is too much like her grandfather to not have done so.”
“My family are too like me for their own good, I think.” said Jethro, wiping the tears from his face. “Your companion is a good woman. The gods will show her the way to save Miriamne’s life. Of that I am sure.”
The heat of the afternoon came and went, but Samali did not move from Miriamne’s side. She bathed her wounds and helped her drink as much water and milk as she could. She had never seen anything like the affliction Miriamne was suffering. Most people taken so by a disease would have perished long before, and she was sure it was not just fighting spirit that was keeping Miriamne alive. It was almost of if the affliction itself was keeping her on the edge of death in this unnatural manner. It terrified her to contemplate who or what could have done this to Miriamne and left her in the desert to suffer its consequences alone.
“You are still troubled, I think.” said Badai, as J’tan absently stirred his evening broth with his fingers.
“Miriamne was our last hope of getting close to our goal. It has been many moons that we have tracked the caravan of the traitor. With each town he loots, he conscripts every man saved alive. We are impotent in our attempts to stop him. Now our last chance may be gone. I am justified in my worry.”
Badai nodded respectfully to J’tan, understanding his comment had not been taken in the manner it was given. He prised himself from the side of the fire and walked outside, as Jethro came and stood by J’tan’s side.
“Badai is a good man, and he is wise.” said Jethro, leaning into J’tan and wrapping an arm round his shoulder.
“I do not take kindly to being questioned on my thoughts. I am not a child.” said J’tan, his irritation clear.
“We are all children, my son.” said Jethro, soothingly. “I have witnessed the feast of the Eastern Star nearly sixty times, yet I am still warmed to see the faces of my friends when they come to share it with me. I still feel like I did as a youth when I see the men undertake the run of rebirth. The only thing that stops me from joining them is my tired and season-worn bones. In this cave are two women who mean something to you, one more than the other I think. It is only natural you feel something when one of them is in pain. Do not hold your emotions so tightly. Go, be with them and show them you are capable of being their friend,” Jethro lifted his head, a knowing grin washing his face with ageless serenity, “or maybe even their husband.”
J’tan blushed, looking across at Samali and dropping his head.
Samali did not know what to do. She turned her attention back to Miriamne, trying desperately to hide the sudden rush of blood to her own cheeks.
Eventually, Samali heard a shuffle of feet from behind her as J’tan arrived at her side. He crouched, holding a bowl of water so that Samali could continue to clean Miriamne’s wounds. She looked at him, his face stoic, and his eyes wide. Nodding, she accepted the bowl, and continued her task.
For five days the small group doted over the fevered form of Miriamne, until finally, by first light on the morning of the sixth, the worst of her fever was gone. The boils and pustules that covered her face were no more, and only dry skin and sores remained where the festering mounds once were. Her lips were coloured and the horrific pallor of her skin replaced by the reassuring hues of life.
Samali was busily preparing breakfast when Miriamne started from her dreamy sleep with a wheezy cough.
“Be calm.” said J’tan, pressing lightly on her shoulder. “You are among family. You were wandering the hillsides when we found you. You were delirious with disease. You are lucky to have survived. Rest, my sister. You can tell us everything you need to later. Samali has made you some food. She says it will aid your recovery.”
“I am fine.” Miriamne said, pushing the bowl away with a steady hand. “I am as recovered as I need to be.”
Jethro heard the voice, its vigour and life strong, and made his way over. “I thought I had lost you, my child.” he said, kissing her head. “We have been worried. What did he do?”
Miriamne composed herself, J’tan helping her to sit before she spoke. “When I arrived at the camp, I found Smenkhkare in the Tabernacle; the grand tent Akhenaten has constructed as a place of worship to his false idol, Israel. Inside, I found him cradling his eldest sons in his arms, both killed by Akhenaten. There, he told me he was no longer thirsting to find the Tree of Life. When I looked into his eyes, I knew he was telling the truth. He told me about what Akhenaten was planning. It was then we decided to act, to stop him attempting to activate it again.”
“Without the Midianites on your side, what did you decide?” asked Jethro.
“There was another group in the camp, the followers of Abram from our homelands. They hold sway with the other priests and thus Akhenaten’s congregation. We decided to use them as a distraction, so I could escape from the camp with the Ark. Our plan was to try to cause a disruption at Akhenaten’s planned joining with the Yamite woman Shi’ba. Unfortunately, Michaenas overheard us and relayed our discussions to Akhenaten. He sent Yehoshua and his guards to round up the priests and he dragged me and Smenkhkare before the Tabernacle. If it were not for the objections of the other priests about the treatment of Smenkhkare, he would have killed us. He used the uraeus to infect me and ordered the guards to throw me out of the camp until I was returned to health. He is using my affliction to torture Smenkhkare for his actions.”
“And what of the Akkadian priests?”
“That is what we must prevent. Ahead of us in the desert is another tribe of the sons of Amalek. Before he sent me from the camp, he was ordering those faithful to the Akkadian priests to go and fight them; alone. He said if they were truly faithful to Israel then their God would protect them. He was also rounding up the elders of the tribes, for what purpose I
am unsure.”
Samali frowned. Whatever monster Akhenaten was, his guile was unmatched. “Akhenaten plays a clever game. He knows the fight will mean the death of those that support the priests. He also knows their failure will take support away in others, who will see them as not having believed in his false God.”
Jethro nodded his agreement. “We need to find out what is going on in that camp and we need someone to get close to do it.”
“I will go.” said Miriamne, firmly. “He said I could not return until I was well, and now I am.”
“Do not be so foolish. You will end up being killed like the brave men of Akkad. I shall go.” said Jethro.
“Did it ever occur to you,” said Badai, his round face lowered toward the fire, and his brow furrowed, “that your Pharaoh now knows about all of you? If he knows of Miriamne’s plot, then I assume he knows you are in on the deception too Jethro. In addition, I can assume he already knows you J’tan, no longer work for him, and also that your companion is not on his side.” Furtive glances shot round the group, the realisation that he was correct slowly settling over their thoughts. “My point is that none of you can approach the camp.”
“What do you suggest, my friend?” asked Jethro.
“I can walk down with my herd. I can pretend to gather sticks for a fire and perhaps trade some of my goats or maybe a little milk for information. Nobody will suspect me of being anything other than what I am; a nomad and a herder.”
“I cannot ask you to do this, there may be dangers we cannot see.” said Jethro.
“Then I shall do it of my own accord.” said Badai, standing and grabbing his crook. “Akhenaten not only threatens your way of life, he also threatens mine. With every town and village he destroys, my trading options are reduced ever more. I shall return by nightfall.”
Try as Jethro might, he could not convince Badai to change his mind. Soon, he was moving off down the hillside, whistling as he walked.
Samali knew Jethro was worried, and suggested that she could track Badai into the valley, to keep an eye on events as they unfolded.
J’tan was uneasy with Samali getting so close to the camp, but with no other options, he finally acquiesced.
Samali followed Badai into the valley, always remaining out of sight. As she watched, he moved toward the edge of the camp and chatted with a guard, handing him a small vase as their conversation continued. Suddenly, the guard’s manner changed. It was clear something was amiss.
A wave of fear for Badai’s safety gripped her and she began to run back to the cave. Looking over her shoulder as she climbed the hillside, she was horrified to see a group of guards surround Badai and drag him into the camp.
Chapter 41