A farewell to remember

Salman racked his brain to think of a solution. A fast solution.

“Alright, that’s a problem. A big problem. Let me think about it for a minute. Our soldiers wont recognize know you. They might accidentally kill you in the heat of battle. You need a sign, or a secret password, or something.”

“That’s stupid,” Phinehas interrupted, “and impractical, especially if we’re under orders to kill everyone. And what if someone finds out about it?”

“You’re right. Secrecy is everything,” Salman continued. “Tell no one about us and we can save you.”

“Should we hide somewhere?” asked Rahab, “in the granary or...”

“No no - that’s too risky,” Salman interrupted as he paced the floor thinking out aloud. “If someone finds you they’ll ask questions. It’s too risky. But... if you stay here in your home, no one will suspect anything. Yes, you must be here when we attack.”

“Or you’ll die,” Phinehas added, “you and all your family. You can be certain of it.”

“Alright, I get it,” said Rahab, “ but what’s stopping your men crashing in here and killing us by mistake?”

Salman thought for a moment then rushed back to the window and grabbed the rope. “It’s too obvious.”

“What is?” asked Rahab.

“That rope, it’ll look like you’re trying to escape.”

He scanned the room and noticed some red cord wrapped around the bed posts. “I’m not even going to ask what this is doing here,” Salman chuckled as he hurriedly unravelled it.

“You don’t want to know.”

“I thought so. But if you hang this out your window on our soldiers will know where you live. Problem solved.”

Rahab embraced him hurriedly. “Thank you.”

“Salman, we've got to go. Now!” whispered Phinehas, as he climbed out the window and slid down the rope.

Salman reluctantly straddled the window's ledge. He wished he had more time to make sense of everything. Would Rahab be executed for helping the enemy? What about after the battle - would she flee the country? Would he even see her again? There was no time to think. No time to doubt.

Salman lingered for one last look, then began his descent down the wall.

“Come back quickly,” Rahab whispered, rushing to the window. “The Jordan will flood soon.”
Salman looked up at her. “I’ll never forget you.”

Rahab leaned further out the window and smiled. A million thoughts raced through Salman's head. She likes me? I could just reach up and impulsively steal a kiss. No one would ever know. It would be unexpected, uncalled for, and unbelievable! It would be the kiss of a lifetime.

But he was too far down the rope! Their lips missed by a few inches.

Rahab supressed her laughter. “Hide in the mountains. They'll come back in a day or two. Then you can cross the river safely.”

“Thank you,” he replied.

“God be with you.”

He slid down the rope with ease, silently joining Phinehas on the ground below. Escaping into the night, they rain straight through the barley fields towards the palm trees beyond the reach of archers on the wall. Far in the distance, lightning and thunder awoke the black northern skies.

Rahab sat by her window looking out over the horizon, her tears of joy illuminated by flashes of lightning. For the first time in her life she prayed to the God of the Hebrews.

“God help them. Please.”

Caleb's scars

“What??!” Salman gasped in amazement.

Caleb stopped in his tracks, wondering what Salman had seen. And then it clicked. The ghastly scars from Egyptian lashes on his back were completely exposed. Caleb turned around and saw Salman standing on the river bank completely horrified.

“What are you looking at?” asked Caleb.

“Why didn't Joshua come with us?”

Caleb shook his head in frustration. “Why are you asking me now? You know he wanted to, but it was too risky to leave the tribes to themselves.”

“And He never talks about the first time you saw Canaan.” Salman continued.

“You wait until I’m knee deep in the Jordan river before you ask me this?” yelled Caleb. “Son, you're opening an old wound.”

“I think I need to know,” Salman replied.

Caleb threw his arms up in the air with frustration. “You already know about the spies Moses sent! We weren’t much older than you. The others turned out to be cowards. They saw Jericho’s walls and wanted to go back to Egypt. Fools, as if slavery was the answer!”

“Why didn’t Moses stop them?” Salman asked.

“He tried. They convinced the whole camp to rebel. Your parents didn’t tell you? I’m not surprised. They took up stones against us. Sure, they repented later – but it was too late. It broke Joshua's heart. He's never been the same.”

“Why doesn’t anyone talk about this?”

“I suppose it brings up too much pain.”

“What about you?” asked Salman.

“Me? The only difference between you and me is forty years, and from where I'm standing that's not much.”

“Isn't it more like fifty?” ask Salman, “not meaning to sound rude.”

“Alright. Fifty three. I'm not one to grow old graciously.”

“I can only hope to have half your courage when I'm your age,” replied Salman.

“Well it's not doing much good now,” said Caleb as he stumbled to inch his way further into the river.

Salman looked across and saw Phinehas had reached the other side. He was waving Caleb to hurry up.

“Stay here with the horses. I'll go in your place,” Salman blurted out.

Caleb hesitated, facing his limitations was never easy. “I'm sorry, I've let you down. Too old and slow, that's my problem.” Caleb passed his satchel to Salman and took his place on the shore.

“Nonsense. The water is too deep, that's all,” replied Salman, side-stepping Caleb's bruised pride. Wading into waist depth, Salman turned around hesitantly.

“Pray for us. Please.”

“I have,” Caleb answered, “all my life.”

Salman could have sworn he saw tears swell up in Caleb's eyes, but he would never dare tell anyone. Besides, he had to deal with his own as he swam to the other side of the Jordan.
Leaving Caleb behind was a tough call. Neither Phinehas or Salman had travelled this far and Caleb's experience would be sorely missed.

Salman wondered if something went wrong, or a quick decision had to be made, who would make that call? Both Phinehas and Caleb were stubborn, but at least Caleb had the wisdom of years.

By God's grace and the prayers of Caleb, he knew they would stay safe.

Spies cross the Jordan

The three men arrived at the Jordan river just as the soft light of dawn touched the water. A flock of birds scattered in their path as they cantered around the final bend in the river, but the men were too busy studying the opposite bank to even notice.

The river was high. Caleb could tell by the water lapping around the shrubs and trees. It was also too fast for his liking, for the markers at the crossing barely stood against the steady flow.
They dismounted and undressed, preparing themselves for the treacherous swim across.

“Just wait a minute till we know its clear,” said Caleb scanning the surrounding landscape for signs of danger.

“What?” replied Phinehas. “Are you afraid? I thought you’d be the first to rush in.”

“Rush into a trap?” said Caleb, “This is the perfect place for one.” He knew he was right, but he could see by the look of surprise of Phinehas’ face he had to spell it out.

“Crossing the river makes us easy prey for an ambush. We can’t defend ourselves, and we can’t retreat quickly. Any fool hiding in the grass with a bow and arrow could pick us off.”

“So what are you going to do?” asked Salman.

“We’ll cross one at a time.”

“Great, me first,” said Phinehas pushing Caleb aside and stepping into the water. Young and muscular, he forged steadily through the current, keeping his leather satchel dry above his head.

Caleb watched him closely. For someone who grew up in the wilderness far from rivers or oceans, Phinehas moved quite quickly, but the further he crossed, the harder it became. He soon started drifting slowly downstream, further away from Caleb and Salman, and into the deadly clutches of panic.

“Keep going Phinehas!” yelled Caleb, “Don’t turn back. You can do it.”

“Come on Phinehas,” yelled Salman as he started to follow him down the river bank.

“Salman, stay here with the horses,” shouted Caleb, “He’ll make it.”

“How do you know?” asked Salman.

“I know. Just believe,” he replied with steadying calm.

They watched as Phinehas barely kept his head above water. He couldn’t possibly keep his satchel dry, but it’s buoyancy was keeping him afloat. He was going to make it, just as Caleb expected.

“Well it’s now or never.” Caleb through off his tunic off and stepped into the river in nothing but his undergarments. The water was cold and his body stiff and sore. Did he have the strength to swim across the fast moving swollen waters? Time would tell.

Midnight race to the Jordan

Across the moonlit plains the three men galloped with fearsome determination, as though all of Heaven held it’s breath in expectation. Phinehas led from the front, skillfully jumping over rocks and boulders, closely followed by Salman.

Caleb, however, lagged a little too far far behind. Not that he was a poor horsemen, but with every jump over tree stumps and ditches, his knees and back ached with pain. He usually didn't feel a day over forty, but to his own frustration, his eighty year old body was finally letting him down.

Moving out of the desert wilderness and into the Jordan valley, the landscape rapidly transformed into an oasis. The ground was carpeted with grass and lush plants, and a chorus of frogs and crickets filled the cool night air. The men galloped and weaved through large majestic palm trees that lined the river like sacred guardians of an ancient boundary.

One such tree had fallen over in a recent storm, presenting another hurdle for the horses. Phinehas was the first to jump and cleared it easily. For Salman, a slight stumble on landing was not enough to knock him from his saddle.

Finally, it was Caleb's turn. Salman waited behind to watch him negotiate the obstacle, but negotiation wasn’t one of Caleb’s strengths. He cleared the log courageously but then fell from his horse in the most undignified manner, hanging upside down with his legs still wrapped around its neck.

The fall wasn't hard enough to hurt more than Caleb’s pride, but Salman still checked to ask.

“You alright?”

“I'm fine,” Caleb replied, “just fine, keep going.”

“Let me help,” Salman insisted, as he dismounted his horse to hoist Caleb back into the saddle.

“Don’t bother, we're running out of time,” said Caleb.

“All the more reason,” replied Salman with a glance to the horizon. A faint glow in the East foretold the imminent arrival of dawn.

“There’s only an hour or so of darkness,” said Caleb. “If Jericho’s scouts see us approach the crossing from the South, they’ll know we’re Hebrews.”

“You think they have scouts?” ask Salman.

“Bet your life on it. I would, if I were them.”

“Come on,” continued Salman, “we can still catch Phinehas.”

Joshua sends spies

Several days went by as the people of Israel mourned the death of their great leader. Moses was in a much better place, and although Joshua felt a great urgency to press on with the invasion of Canaan he also wanted to respectfully acknowledge the moment.

Joshua didn’t talk much of his experience on Mount Nebo, for he was mindful how easily the people could be frightened. Stories of Lucifer and Michael fighting over the body of Moses could be taken the wrong way. If the Devil can’t deceive people into doubting his existence, then he’ll try to crush their faith with fear. Either way, Joshua wasn’t going to stand for it.

However, so many people kept asking to see Moses’ body that, in the end, Joshua had to tell the truth. He had no idea where Moses was buried. That was a secret known only to the Lord, for which Joshua was surprisingly grateful. A grave can become a shrine, and a shrine can become an idol, and if that were ever to happen people would completely miss the point of Moses’ entire life.

Mindful that history has a way of repeating itself, a few hours after the ritual mourning had ceased, Joshua summoned his most trusted friends under the secrecy of darkness.
Caleb, Phinehas and Salman were ordered to spy out the land of Canaan, and pay particularly attention to Jericho and it’s fortifications.

Eleazar the High Priest (and Phinehas’ father) was also there to add his blessing and prayers, even as they saddled up their horses on what was certain to be a dangerous mission.

“Caleb, enter Jericho on foot,” said Joshua, “or you'll look suspicious. Salman will guard the horses at the river until you return.”

“Why the big secret?” Salman asked, “can’t we at least tell our families?”

“It’s for your own safety, and theirs” Joshua replied. “Besides, you don't have much time.”

“How long?” asked Caleb.

“Four days at the most.” said Joshua. “We'll cross the Jordan on the fifth. If you're not back, I’ll assume you're dead, or soon will be.”

“That's the least of our worries,” replied Caleb.

“I know,” said Joshua, “I only wish I could go myself.”

“Yes, but what kind of trouble would we return to?” said Caleb.

Joshua nodded his head in agreement. Caleb was right, at least on the big things, and more often than he cared to boast.

“Eleazar, it’s time send them off.”

On Joshua’s cue, the High Priest stepped forwarded and anointed each man with oil on the forehead. “The Lord bless you and keep you. The Lord make his face to shine upon you, and give you peace. Shalom.”

“Shalom,” echoed Joshua, as the three men mounted their horses.

“What were you saying?” Phinehas asked Caleb.

Caleb leaned towards him with a crazy look in his eyes, “If you even smell of fear,” he whispered, “I'll kill you myself. You and Salman.”

“Oh that’s comforting,” Phinehas replied.

“Stop your squabbling and get out here,” Joshua ordered, and slapped their horses on the hind legs to send all three charging off into the night.

Eleazar stood solemnly watching them off under the moonlit sky. Joshua sensed the Priest’s fatherly pride wrestling with fear for his own son’s safety.

“He would be in more danger if he stayed,” said Joshua philosophically, “We all would.”

Although Eleazar kept his mouth shut tightly with stoic resolve, he still had to wipe the tears from his eyes. “There’s no safer place to be,” Eleazar replied, “other than in God’s will.”

“Amen,” said Joshua, as he gazed into the glorious night sky. “God’s will be done.”

The stars were too numerous to be counted.

Cold blood

“What is it?” asked Joshua.

“Come here,” Moses replied, “both of you.”

Joshua and Phinehas cautiously approached, with Caleb following behind, if only for moral support.

Moses glared into their eyes. “I said kill them all.”

“We did,” Joshua replied “they're only women and children.”

Moses breathed a deep sigh, stroked his beard, and took time to compose himself.
“I know the torment that grips your soul,” he continued. “Spare them and our sons will be fighting for a thousand years, or worse, they'll marry. Whose children will they raise? Abraham’s or Baal’s? You think the Messiah will come if there are no children of Abraham left on the earth?

Joshua could barely accept what he was hearing. “But surely...surely the only just thing to do... I didn't know...”

“Oh yes you did,” Moses interrupted. “You just didn't want to know. You wanted to bargain with God. Believe me, I've been there myself.”

Joshua bowed his head in shame. He had never felt so humiliated in all his life. If this is what a leader must do, he thought, God why did you choose me?

Moses turned his attention to Caleb, who by now was looking rather sheepish himself.
“Caleb, spare the girls. Get rid of the boys and women.”

“Yes,” Caleb answered, “if that's what you want, I’ll do it.”

Moses raised his finger sternly, “No. That's what God wants.”

Who could answer that? thought Joshua as he watched Caleb and Phinehas walk back and begin the gruesome task of separating the living from those who would soon be dead.

Moses gently put his arm around Joshua, pulling him aside from the cries of mothers desperately clinging to their children. “A great prophet will come after me.”

“The Messiah?” asked Joshua.

“Yes,” Moses replied. “Be sure to do everything he tells you.”

Amidst the bloodcurdling screams and wailing, Joshua stood emotionless watching Moses walk back into the camp. Is this what I’ll become? He thought to himself. If this is leadership, then it's a burden too great to bear. “God,” said Joshua to himself, “I just want to be free.”

Death

Joshua stood transfixed in the moment. So many mixed feelings awash with blood. Death is never pleasant, he thought, even the death of an enemy. He begged to be my slave? As if I was the free man.

The deathly silence was broken by Salman walking towards Phinehas. The crowd parted, and everyone saw he was carrying his brother's body in his arms.

“Zebulan is dead.”

“You tell his wife,” answered Phinehas

“You’re that heartless?”

“What, you're his brother, of course you'll tell his wife,” replied Phinehas.

“Tell her what?” asked Salman, “You rode the camels too early and too far. Your reckless lust for glory broke our ranks. No, you tell her.”

Joshua sensed the tension rising, but felt like he couldn’t take sides. His purpose there was to unite, not divide the troops.

Phinehas walked closer to Salman, close enough to whisper. “I led from the front. It's war. What did you expect?'

Phinehas turned aside to walk away but Caleb stood in the way. He wasn't moving, and after a moment of uneasiness, Phinehas yielded and walked around him.

Joshua realized the situation was deteriorating. “Salman, we did all you could to save your brother.”

“I prayed he would live,” replied Salman.

“You'll see him at the resurrection.”

Somehow Joshua's answer didn't seem enough, both for Salman and Joshua. But it was the only hope they had. It would be a long march back to camp.

Victory

Salman charged first, but smashed his shoulder against the giant’s shield.

Caleb was tossed aside like a rag doll, his axe slipping from his grip.

Joshua lunged at his throat, but the giant grabbed the sword, crushing Joshua’s right hand in the process.

“Out of my way Grandpa,” roared the ogre as he knocked Joshua unconscious.

Salman threw a rock and smashed his right eye - but a wild kick in reply threw Salman back onto Zebulan.

“Two at once!” he said, wiping the blood from his face. “Number twenty and twenty one.”

“You can count?” said Salman.

The humor went unappreciated, as the giant kicked the sword from Salman’s hand then plunged his massive boot on Zebulan's chest. He was raised his sword high in the air to decapitate him.
Joshua stammered to he feet, dazed and confused. His sword was missing, but Caleb’s axe would do.

Salman hastily threw a knife into his back.
No reaction. Nothing. Not even a flinch.

The giant's sword rained down with morbid finality. Zebulan struggled to free himself but couldn’t escape the sword plunging deep through his chest.

Joshua swung the axe with one hand and struck the giant clean through the neck, sending his head flying into the backside of a passing camel. It was a stunning kill, but not enough to console Salman, who rushed to cradle Zebulan in his arms.

“Oh God, save him. Please,” he wept.

Joshua stripped off his tunic and pressed it firmly onto Zebulan’s bloodied chest. “Salman, pay attention!” Joshua ordered. “Hold this down hard, You hear me? We can't lose him. You must stop the bleeding.”

Blood was everywhere.

In the middle of the battle, Phinehas and his men were completely drenched in it. But it was royal blood they were after. Only two Midianite Kings remained, and the best of their henchmen were fighting to the very last man.

The rest of the Hebrews (those not helping the wounded) quickly surrounded the enemy, blocking every path of escape. Phinehas led the final push, slashing and jabbing his way through the remaining hundred or so Midianites. He was brutally unstoppable, slaying men with both the sharp and blunt ends of his trusted spear. Indeed, it became such a spectacle, his comrades stood back and watched in awe as Phinehas finished off the lot of them.

In the end, plump King Reba stood cowering behind King Hur, both arrayed in fine costume and jewelry.

But the party was over.

Dripping with blood and sweat, Phinehas took a moment to catch his breath and feel the adrenaline surging through the veins of his muscular limbs. He glared at King Hur like a rabid wolf.

“Sin always comes to this,” shouted Joshua as he pushed his way through the crowd. He felt compelled to witness the final judgment of his enemy.

“Joshua, you’re insane, the whole lot of you,” replied Hur.

“Maybe,” said Phinehas as he wiped his face. “You can’t reason with us, so why bother?”

The ground squelched with blood as Phinehas stepped forward for a closer look. But his face was so filthy he could barely open his eyelids. Just as he paused again to wipe his eyes, Hur charged forward and tackled Phinehas to the ground. Reba saw his chance and rushed in to help, but although Phinehas lay flat on the ground, he managed to raise his spear just in time for Reba to walk straight into it.

Phinehas flipped to his feet. Checkmate.

King Hur realized it was over. He lowered his sword to the ground and raised his arms slowly in the air.

Joshua stepped forward over the dead body of King Reba. “Hur, You brought this on yourself.”

“Take us a slaves,” Hur replied, “We'll serve your gods.”

The other Midianites dropped their swords.

“Gods? There’s only one true God. Serve you own,” cried Phinehas “...in Hell.” And with that he rammed his spear into King Hur. One hundred other Hebrew spears finished the rest in an instant. There they lay, the last of the Midianite men, bleeding, gasping, dying.

The battle was won.

The Heat of Battle

Stepping over his companions, a tall hooded Midianite entered the fray - keen to claim the scalp of Joshua. He was armed with a reaper’s scythe, its long curved blade normally harvested wheat, but could easily slice clean through limbs.

The reaper paced steadily towards Joshua - barely pausing to butcher someone foolishly standing in his way. A strong low sweep of his razor sharp blade took a young Hebrew’s left leg off at the knee.

Joshua couldn’t fight him alone, yet Phinehas was still unarmed. He quickly threw the spear back to him - it was far deadlier in the hands of its owner.

In the nick of time, Phinehas jabbed the Reaper’s thigh while Joshua’s sword blocked a powerful sweep of the scythe just inches from his knee.

With a quick lunge to his left, Joshua swiped his sword tip across the heels of the Reaper, tripping him to the ground. It was all over bar Phinehas’ death blow to the throat, when Joshua lunged to fend off another threat.

A Midianite axeman took Joshua’s sword through the chest. It wasn’t enough to kill, so Joshua stole the axe and sliced his throat.

“Thanks,” said Phinehas.

“You did well” replied Joshua. “Just remember, the spear tip is for flesh, the blunt end for ribs - don’t confuse the two. Now go get those Kings.”

Joshua and Caleb formed a defensive perimeter around the wounded, along with others who quickly came to their aide. There were too many wounded to remove from the battle, but at least they could protect them from further harm.

Although Joshua’s sword was not as swift as Phinehas' spear, with Caleb’s help he always seemed to be in the right place at the right time. At times, they were comical.

“Caleb, are you holding up?” Joshua remarked while skillfully dispatching an enemy.

“Stop worrying,” shouted Caleb. “I'm fine, though my shoulder's a bit stiff”.

Caleb swung his sword around to loosen up his joint, and quite innocently smashed another attacker in the forehead.

“Just leave some for the others,” Joshua laughed.

Meanwhile, Salman scarcely held his own against the Midianite onslaught. Protecting his brother made him a magnet for anyone with a bruised ego looking for an easy kill.
Fortunately, one such scavenger was the third Midianite patriarch, King Zur. His golden breastplate was a telltale sign of royal title and a clear target for Salman to aim a hasty slingshot. It found its mark, but failed to shatter. Zur kept charging towards him, barely winded from the blow.

Salman hit the dirt, narrowly missing decapitation from Zur’s sword. He saved his skull, but now Zebulan lay unprotected with Zur vengefully poised to deliver a fatal blow.

With no time to stand up, Salman reacted instinctively. In one swift motion he lassoed Zur's neck with his leather slingshot.

The King spun around, furious that someone would snare him on a leash. Salman seized the opportunity to jump to his feet, and twist the cord tighter around his neck.

But it wasn't enough - Zur was still mobile. Salman crash tackled the king and tried to drag him to the ground, but he was too big. Like a huge dog on a short chain, Salman had him bound and gagging, but still couldn’t overpower him.

As he clung tightly to Zur, Salman endured frightening blows to his face and body. He couldn't fight back for fear of losing his stranglehold, so leaned against the leather cord with all his might.

And the more he leaned, the tighter Zur choked.

But two could play that game. Zur grasped the leather straps and yanked Salman over his shoulder like a rag doll. Salman tried to hold on valiantly as he swung into orbit, but Zur was breaking free of the noose. Letting go of the straps, Salman dropped to the ground and sent him reeling in agony with a kick to the groin.

The leather sling was sill wrapped around Zur’s neck, so Salman stood squarely on his back and yanked it as hard as he could.

SNAP! Zur's neck was broken, and his head slumped to the ground like a melon.

King on a stick

“Watch out!” yelled Caleb.

Joshua was set upon by a swordsman. His defensive block only dampened the attack - just enough time for Joshua to trip him to the ground with a kick to the ankle.

THUD! Joshua’s sword finished him off.

WHACK!

Joshua turned and recognized a familiar axe embedded in the chest of a enemy behind him.
“You fight with a sword and axe?” said Joshua handing it back to Caleb.

“I haven’t been training for nothing,” Caleb replied, yanking his sword out of another body.

The battle soon opened up and Joshua finally caught sight of Phinehas. He was rescuing a wounded soldier, struggling to pull him up onto his camel and fend off attackers with his free arm.

Who is it? thought Joshua. Salman? Worse - his brother Zebulan. Much loved. He cannot die.
Joshua felt powerless to intervene but decided he must. He sensed a tragedy unfolding in slow motion.

Zebulan slumped to the ground, barely able to raise his shield and fend off two Midianite swordsman.

Phinehas speared one, but was dragged off his camel by the other.

Bad move, thought Joshua as he pushed his way through the fighting. Phinehas is deadlier on foot - that buys me some time.

Phinehas slashed his attacker in the jugular, then flipped his spear around and rammed the blunt end into his chest. CRACK! Ribs shattered, blood splattered, and the Midianite fell to the earth.

Joshua arrived to find Zebulan in worse danger. King Evi, a large barrel chested man, lumbered towards him like a angry bear.

Joshua knew his chances were slim. He was too big to outmuscle.

Evi charged, straight into Joshua’s flying dagger.

It landed firmly in the abdomen, followed in rapid succession by Salman’s slingshot to the head and Phinehas’ spear through his ribs.

Evi dropped dead. He didn’t stand a chance.

“Nice work men,” shouted Joshua, trying to remove Phinehas’ spear, but it was jammed in the rib cage. Joshua saw Salman running to Zebulan’s aid. “Good, see to his wounds, before he loses too much blood.”

“He’s messed up pretty bad I think,” replied Salman. “How did he get hit by our slingshots?”

“Don’t know. The plan didn’t work,” Phinehas replied, fending off another attacker with his dagger.

“No time to argue.” Joshua could see where this was going. “Salman get your brother out of here.”

Zebulan groaned at the prospect of moving.

“He’s in too much pain,” yelled Salman.

“Right - we’ll stay with him,” Joshua ordered. “Phinehas, get your spear and keep fighting. Go for the other Kings.”

“Why?”

“Don’t argue.”

“But we haven’t taken out their infantry”

“Phinehas! Nothing ever goes to plan” yelled Joshua sternly. “Now strike the shepherds and the sheep will scatter!”

“Yes sir,” replied Phinehas.

And from that moment, Joshua assumed command of the rescue, for by now he realized they were taking far too many casualties. “God forbid anyone of us should die.”

But his words were of little comfort. Even as Caleb arrived to help, panic gripped Salman’s heart. “God please, oh God, ... not my brother.”

Joshua and Caleb desperately fought off an onslaught of attackers while Salman nervously opened Zebulan’s tunic. The shoulder joint was split in two, with bones piercing the skin. His chest was drenched in blood.

“I’ll be fine,” Zebulan moaned through the pain.

“No, it’s bad. Really bad,” Salman replied.

“You’re not supposed to say that,” Zebulan screamed angrily, “Just don’t leave me, alright?”

“Never,” Salman replied, “You think I'm insane?”

There was no time to waste, but Joshua realized Phinehas still needed help. His spear was jammed King Evi’s rib cage, and no amount of pulling and heaving could dislodge it.

“You alright? What on earth are you doing?” shouted Joshua.

“I don’t want to lose the spear tip,” replied Phinehas.

“Spear tip? What about the battle?” yelled Joshua. “Give it to me.”

Joshua grabbed the end of the spear like he was holding a pitchfork.

“What are you doing?”

“Arggh... King on a stick,” shouted Joshua, as he flung Evi around on the end of the spear. The carcass flew off and hit a row of Midianites.

Chaos

With exploding clay shots decimating their ranks, the Midianites didn’t know which target to choose; the foot soldiers or the camels? Most aimed for somewhere in between.

Arrows rained down like deafening hail on the ground in front of Joshua. All he could do was lie still and sweat it out, hoping none hit their mark.

“Salman,” yelled Joshua, I’m feeling helpless here.”

“Don’t worry,” Salman replied over the roar of arrows striking the earth “They’re hitting no mans land.”

Joshua looked up again, and much to his relief saw that Salman was right. They were safe, at least for the moment.

“Now can we fight?” asked Caleb

“Nooooooo! Stay down.”

Salman reloaded and fired a second volley as Phinehas thundered ever closer towards the Midianites.

Enemy horses suddenly caught the scent of the camels and panicked at the apocalyptic sight. No amount of curses and whipping could restrain them from throwing their riders and fleeing the battle field in terror.

“And I thought camels were a silly idea,” said Joshua. “Now can we attack?”

“Yes! Quickly,” replied Salman, helping him up off the ground.

“About time, I’m due for a nap soon,” joked Caleb.

Joshua and Caleb charged towards the enemy, as two thousand slingers drew their swords and joined ranks with the Hebrew infantry.

With the slingshots still raining judgement from the sky, Phinehas’ camelry smashed through the Midianite frontline. Their long spears were unstoppable. A devastating jab to the chest, a gut, and a neck - in two seconds three men were slain by the hand of Phinehas.

Joshua kept running - muscles aching, heart pounding - whatever it took to keep up with the younger soldiers. He could see King Hur now, through the rows of Midianites decimated by slingshots.

Clay shrapnel tore through shields and flesh. Standing beside King Hur, the potbellied King Rekem turned around to call for reinforcements, but there were none. A few men staggered around in a daze, holding wounds on their head and limbs. No one was spared.

Not even King Rekem.

Barely had he time to turn and to face the camels, when a final clay shot embedded in his forehead. Dead on his feet, it took a moment for him to topple like a massive cedar tree falling to the ground.

Joshua finally reached the front line, momentarily disorientated in a forest of camel legs and thick undergrowth of dead and dying men. Where was Phinehas? What the heck was going on?

Life or Death

“What on earth are you doing?” Joshua couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Their presence on the battlefield was supposed to inspire courage. It wasn’t meant to be this difficult.

“It’s alright,” replied Phinehas dismounting his camel, “I respect my elders.”

The two men faced off, standing toe to toe, eyeballing each other. Phinehas’ tall muscular frame towered over Caleb’s short stocky body. Neither man was prepared to budge.

“In case you’re hard of hearing,” said Phinehas, “I’ll say it real slow and loud. YOU. ARE. TOO. OL...”

THWUMP!

Phinehas never finished his sentence. The force of Caleb’s mighty punch to his stomach completely winded him as he dropped to the ground like a sack of barley.

“As a wood cutter,” said Caleb standing proudly over Phinehas squirming in the dust, “young green saplings snap easily in your hands. But old wood - well, that’s much tougher.”

Joshua extended his hand to help a very humbled Phinehas to his feet, and motioned for the other soldiers to stop smirking with laughter.

“Well I wont have the boy,” Phinehas said as he remounted his camel. “And with all respect, you may serve under my command today but your lives are in your own hands.”

Joshua shook Phinehas’ hand in good faith. “Moses wants you to lead this battle. Nothing would make me more proud than to see you win. And if we live or die, that’s up to God.”

“What about me?” asked Othniel.

“Do as he says son,” Joshua replied. “Back to camp. There’ll be other battles.”

Phinehas deferred to his elders and moved his camel aside to let them pass. And through the ranks they marched, amidst the gob-smacked gaze of soldiers less than half their age.

“Great day for a fight,” Caleb remarked,

“That it is,” replied Joshua, quite relieved to put the argument with Phinehas behind him.

“Of course, it takes a little while to warm up,” chuckled Caleb as he loosened up the joints in his stiff right arm. “Now that I’m not as young as I used to be.”

Like the parting of the Red Sea, thousands of soldiers respectfully stepped aside to make way for Joshua and Caleb. These ancient warriors were living proof of a miracle-working God, and their entrance onto the battle field finally ushered a much greater sense of courage than Joshua had hoped for.

As they reached the frontline, Joshua gripped Salman’s hand firmly with immense honor and humility.

“Salman,” said Joshua, “Is there room for us here by your side?”

“Joshua, ... Caleb, I'm shocked, I mean.. honored.”

“Just don't expect us to carry you”, muttered Caleb.

Joshua drew his sword and raised his eyes towards Heaven. What came forth was as much a life-long fervent prayer as it was a battle cry.

“God of Abraham, Creator of Heaven and Earth, grant me now the strength of my youth. Whether in life or in death, in this world or the next, guide me now Great Jehovah, into your promised land.”

“Amen” shouted Caleb, and all raised their swords and shouted in hearty agreement.

War

Children’s temper tantrums are usually a little more sophisticated by the time they grow up and go to war, but for King Hur, the best he could do was smash large pottery flagons of wine on the battle ground where he paced like a wounded bull.

“Curse Joshua! Curse his god, his prophet and his people”, bellowed the angry tyrant, “I’ll drink the blood from his skull before this day is done.”

The King’s murderous rants left globules of spit dangling from his long bushy beard, as he tip-toed around the shards of broken pottery. If the situation wasn’t so serious, his subordinates would have laughed at the absurdity of such a dummy spit. So incredulous were Hur's violent threats, it seemed he mourned the loss of his pride more than his daughter.

The Midianite’s proud words did nothing to impress his regal companions assembled on that dreaded day of battle. Four other kings united forces with Hur - King Evi, Rekem, Reba and Zur all appeared sympathetic to Hur's personal loss, but “pathetic” more accurately described the true nature of their allegiance.

It was alliance of fools, politicians and mercenaries - the worst way to go to war, and for the very worst reasons. Hastily forged in the fires of convenience, Hur’s army flagrantly mocked the Hebrews under the hideous banner of their man-made god, Baal Peor.

Nevertheless, across the dry hot valley the two armies stood. The Midianites to the north were a ragged horde of ten thousand barbarians and nomads, blackmailed into service on the promise of spoils and the threat of retributions. The pride of their forces consisted of several hundred horsemen, mercenaries who were as fine as any calvary in the known world (as long as they were paid).

In front were several thousand archers, mostly herdsmen who hunted wild goats in their spare time, but their weapons were equally deadly aimed at human foe. At the rear, six or seven thousand foot soldiers bulked up their numbers, but the absence of any real discipline or fighting prowess was clearly evident in their motley assortment of weaponry. Sickles and pruning knives, stone axes and rough metal implements suggested that they either lacked the ability to forge iron or had arrogantly assumed the Hebrews would pay for the convenience of a negotiated peace.

The Hebrew army stood on the opposite hilltop in strict formation, looking keen, focussed and ready for battle.

Joshua and Caleb eagerly observed their preparation from a distance. They weren’t asked to fight the Midianites, as it was Moses’ decision for Phinehas to lead the troops into battle.

“...to reward his zeal for killing King Hur’s daughter,” said Joshua.

“Or finish what he started?” Caleb asked.

“Perhaps.”

Joshua studied the battlefield to guess Phinehas’ plans. At the front, Salman marshaled two thousand slingshots, armed with long leather straps and hollow clay balls the size of oranges. A hit to the skull could kill a man at three hundred yards - or worse still, shatter on his shield and tear shreds of flesh off several men. Wounding three was better than killing one, if only for the chaos it created.

In the middle, Zebulan (Salman’s older brother) led nine thousand foot soldiers, swords held high glistening in the morning sun. They stood in twelve groups of about seven hundred and fifty a piece, each behind the banner of their tribe.

At the rear, Phinehas commanded a frightening force of a thousand riders, mounted on camels and armed with long spears. Slower than horses, but faster than foot soldiers, the camels towered over all with their impressive size and proud gait.

“I didn’t come here to watch,” said Joshua. “You think we can help?”

“Yes,” Caleb assured him, “But should we?”

Joshua stroked his beard and considered his options.

“Moses did ask Phinehas to lead the battle.”

“But he didn’t say we couldn’t fight,” replied Caleb.

“True. So we fight now, and ask for forgiveness later,” Joshua laughed as he galloped off to race his old friend once again.

Hope

Salman stood up and paced the floor to stay awake. “Hope is all we had for four hundred years. Hope is what kept us alive.”

“Its amazing you even remembered where you came from,” Rahab interrupted. The Egyptians take people from all over the world and they never return. Children born into slavery don’t know any better.”

“We’re different,” said Salman rubbing the tiredness from his eyes. “We had a prophecy that we would return, and we had Josephs bones.”

“Who?”

“What?” replied Salman. “I’m sorry, I’m falling asleep. Help me to stay awake.”

“Joseph. Who was Joseph?”

“He was the first Hebrew sold into slavery - his brothers betrayed him. That’s how we all came to be in Egypt. Before he died he asked to be buried back home in Canaan. We’ve passed his coffin down through the generations.”

“So you still have his bones now?”

“Yes. We carried his bones from Egypt to bury in the land of our fathers.”

“The bones made you remember?” asked Rahab, listening intently on the edge of her seat.

“More than that. I believe his bones carried us.” Salman slouched back in his chair and slowly deliberated over his words to fight back the tiredness.

“Hope carried us. The hope of freedom in a land of our own. The promised land, flowing with milk and honey. Canaan.”

“You make this place sound better than it is!” Rahab laughed.

“That’s God’s plan - that it be much better, better than you or I could ever imagine.”

“Things normally turn out worse than I imagine,” Rahab replied. “I’m sorry, that’s how its always been for me.”

Salman sat up in his chair and thought deeply for a moment as he stared into the soothing glow of the fire. The similarities between Rahab’s life and the story of his people were strikingly obvious now. “But hope without courage turns to despair,” he continued. “And despair breeds rebellion in the hearts of men.”

His eyelids got heavier while still rambling on. “That was the beginning ...of many sorrows. Forty years of wilderness, neither slave ...nor free.”

A crackling spark from the fire reminded Salman of what the crack of an Egyptian’s whip might sound like. Although he had never felt its pain in real life, he had imagined it many times in his sleep. He flinched and stood bolt upright, almost as if to shake off his daydream. He desperately wanted to stay awake and keep talking with Rahab.

“Slavery and prostitution are very similar you know. Someone else owns your body.”

“I’m not a Hebrew,” Rahab answered abruptly. “What can your God do for me?”

Salman was lost for words, but wasn’t about to give up easily. “I don’t know. But I do know he made all people, and if I were Him, I would care for my creation. And I’m just a man, far from perfect - so he must love you more.”

“Well, that’s a nice idea,” Rahab replied, “but how did God love the Midianites? Surely they didn’t take too kindly to the news of their princess’ death.”

“No they didn’t,” replied Salman. “You’re right. It was a bloody and terrifying battle, and one best forgotten. Sadly, I still remember it all too well.”

Stay Awake

“...and that’s how Joshua became our leader - quite unexpectedly,” Salman concluded his story to Rahab. “Moses simply handed it to him not long before he died.”

Two or three hours passed since Giddel and his men were sent on a wild goose chase. The two Hebrew spies had made the most of Rahab’s hospitality and were now fully prepared for their escape.
So prepared, in fact, Phinehas fell asleep by the window, catching up on some well earned rest. The others talked about waking him up, but decided he was so exhausted the sleep would help for the long journey home.

Salman, on the other hand, had good reason to remain awake. Several hours of conversation with Rahab seemed just like a few minutes, and with every passing moment the two were drawn to each other’s fascinating stories.

“It’s strange God would do that to Moses,” said Rahab.

“I’m sure He has his reasons,” replied Salman, “but sometimes I feel like He can be quite dramatic, almost theatrical - just to prove a point.”

“What point?”

“I don’t know. That’t the funny thing, I don’t have a clue about Moses. So many things about Jehovah are symbolic.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Take the crossing of the Red Sea for example. He didn’t have to lead us into the wilderness - we could have travelled the direct route to Canaan, by the way of the Philistines.”

“You think he was showing off?” Rahab asked.

“Well, he doesn’t need to show off,” Salman replied, “but maybe we need him to.”

“The bread should be done now,” said Rahab as she leaned over towards the fire. “So this Midianite woman that Phinehas killed, how did Joshua know her? Did he sleep with her?”

Salman waited for Rahab to remove the bread from the oven before stoking the fire with a few extra pieces of wood. “No, although some people assumed that. King Hur had offered his daughter’s hand in marriage some months before, as a way of keeping peace between our people.”

“To whom?” asked Rahab.

“What?”

“Who did he want her to marry?”

“Didn’t matter - Moses, Joshua, whatever it took to mix the blood lines of our people.”

“So he was a man of peace?”

“No. He was a merchant. Everything has its price - or so he thought,” Salman answered apprehensively, realizing the nature of Rahab’s occupation.

“You should get some sleep,” said Rahab. “You look tired.”

“What if we all fall asleep? replied Salman. “I can’t risk it.”

“True,” said Rahab “I’ll stay up with you till the middle of the next watch - when the guards are drowsy. It’ll be safe to leave then.”

Salman gazed into her stunning brown eyes. He was too tired to think before speaking. “Thanks, I’ve never talked to someone like you before.”

“What do you mean? A prostitute?” Rahab replied, “It’s alright. You can say it. I don’t mind”

“Sorry. I think you do,” said Salman. “I think you do mind, or at least you used to mind. I don’t know how anyone couldn’t.”

“Maybe, a long time ago. When I was younger, it was like looking over the edge of a cliff. You know it’s dangerous but something draws you to it. And then once you’ve jumped, it’s easy. The deed is done. It can’t be undone.”

“I disagree,” replied Salman.

“What?” laughed Rahab, “you think I can be pure again? You’re more immature than I thought.”

“That’s not what I’m saying. I mean there’s still hope.”

“Hope. I have long since forgotten the meaning of that word,” replied Rahab.

Kill them all

Later that evening, Joshua entered Moses’ tent with a great deal of fear and trepidation. The events of that day had been so horrific he had no time to process them, let alone break the news to Moses.

The old prophet sat by the soft flickering light of a lamp, diligently transcribing a parchment scroll. It must have been something of such great importance for he didn’t even look up when Joshua entered.

His wrinkled hands were rough and gnarled, but still strong enough to meticulously etch the ancient Hebraic text. The room was cluttered with scrolls, both leather and papyrus, piled high on the chairs and table - so high in fact, that Joshua couldn’t even see Moses speak as he cautiously approached.

“King Hur's daughter, if the rumors are correct?” said Moses as he carefully lay his quill down on the desk.

“Yes, the Midianite”, replied Joshua, “apparently Phinehas didn't know who she was.”

“Would it matter?”

Joshua rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Unlikely.”

Moses nodded his head slowly. “And I guess they asked how you know her?”

“Yes,” replied Joshua.

“What did you tell them?”

“The truth. It’s better than rumors, though harder to believe sometimes.”

Moses stood up from his chair, cleared the table of several stacks of scrolls, then turned to face Joshua for the first time in the conversation.

“Phinehas did a great thing. To be honest, I’m not sure if I could do that myself, even in my younger years. Yes, it was brutal and savage. But more than that, he drew a line in the sand.”

“A line in the sand?” remarked Joshua. “Slaughtering Hebrews is something we normally leave for our enemies. God knows there are enough of them. Besides, he’s lucky he didn’t kill the wrong couple.”

Moses smiled as he embraced Joshua warmly. “Luck had nothing to do with it. This is a sign, don’t you see? Getting Israel out of Egypt was easy, but getting Egypt out of Israel - a nightmare.”

“Really? I wake up from nightmares,” Joshua replied, pulling himself away.

“I understand,” said Moses. “Forty years is too long to suffer for someone else’s sins, but that’s all gone now.”

“What?” asked Joshua.

“King Hur’s daughter wasn’t the only one who died today. You, me and Caleb are now the only old ones left.”

“Dear Lord!” exclaimed Joshua. His mind raced with so many thoughts, so many old hurts, he didn’t know what to say.

“You know what this means?” Moses asked.

“Yes, of course,” replied Joshua, and in an instant he felt the pain of an old festering wound suddenly re-opening in his soul.

Moses took a deep breath and finished off a goblet of wine on the table. He gently placed the cup back on the bench, wiped his old grey beard and cleared his throat.

“Joshua, a leader without followers is just a cranky old prophet.”

“Maybe that’s our only consolation,” Joshua replied, “the just outlive the wicked.”

“I wish it were always true,” Moses continued, as he rolled out a map on the table.

Joshua sensed there was more Moses wanted to say, but couldn’t bring himself to ask what it was.

Moses breathed a heavy sigh and continued. “Last night in the Tabernacle, God spoke to me about two things. Firstly...”

“What?” Joshua asked, almost fearful of the answer.

Moses placed small stones at each corner of the map to keep it flat on the table. Stretching out his bony index finger, he drew Joshua’s attention to the last east of the Jordan river.

“Five Midianite Kings stand between us and the promised land. By dawn, King Hur will hear of his daughter’s death and will undoubtedly assemble the largest army he can muster. I’ll ask Phinehas to take twelve thousand of our best troops and wipe them out”.

Joshua sat down to digest the moment. I knew this was coming, he thought, so why do I feel hopelessly unprepared? He resigned himself to the obvious.

“It’s begun. We're invading Canaan?”

Moses nodded. “Yes. This will be the first of many battles. Kill them all - men, women, and children.”

The Spear of Phinehas

With a sudden flash of steel, the tent ripped open and dropped to the ground, exposing their sin to the entire camp. Phinehas raised his spear high above his head - poised to kill with fearsome eyes, and nostrils flaring like a raging bull.

The crowd of onlookers stepped aside as Salman and Othniel arrived on the scene with swords drawn.

In a moment of desperation, the whore embraced Zimri tightly to cover her nakedness, drawing drops of blood from his back with her painted black nails. The facade of modesty was merely a vain act of self preservation for fear of what might happen next.

And it did.

WHACK! Phinehas rammed his spear straight between her shoulder blades. The sheer force of impact threw the couple back to the ground.

“It's not my fault”, cried Zimri, “get her off me”.

Phinehas took one last sobering gaze into Zimri's drunken eyes, before glancing at the woman. Embedded deep in the whore’s back, his spear tip crushed the serpent’s head on her blasphemous tattoo. With a deep breath, Phinehas fastened his grip on the spear then rammed it through the whore’s chest and into Zimri’s lungs. If the thought of mercy ever crossed his mind, it vanished with the gruesome sound of cracking bones and cartillage.

It took a moment for Salman, Othniel and the entire crowd to realize exactly what Phinehas had done. Stunned silence gave way to gasps of shock and awe.

The two lovers lay skewered in a deathly shish kebab, drowning in their own blood. Phinehas leaned heavily down on the shaft forcing it through Zimri’s back and deep into the soil. Not even the convulsions of death could separate them.

Death was a fitting finale for the consummate act of sin.

Their gasping quickly turned to gurgling, as Salman grabbed a blanket to stem the flow of blood. It was too late to save them, but at least he could stop the blood from cursing the ground where they stood.

Joshua arrived out of breath and in complete shock at this barbaric sight.
“Good Lord! What have you done?

“What? I didn’t do anything,” Phinehas replied.

“Why don't you cut their heads off while you're at it?” said Joshua.

“It's not my fault.”

“I didn’t say it was your fault,” replied Joshua, “but a little discretion wouldn’t go astray.”

“Are you absolutely sure you found the right ones?” Othniel asked.

“Of course, stupid.”

“You don't do anything by halves, do you Phinehas?” Joshua continued. “You and Salman clean up this mess. Burn everything, their bodies, clothes, the tent - anything they touched.”

“Can I have my spear back?” Phinehas asked.

“Not here, wash it outside the camp. I don’t want any blood on the ground. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes Sir,” they replied.

The gurgling stopped as Salman continued wrapping the bodies in the groundsheet and binding them to the spear.

“Wait”, said Joshua abruptly.

Looking all around the camp, in every direction he saw the sick getting up off their death beds completely healed.

“Just as I expected,” continued Joshua as he stepped forward to get a better look at the bodies.

He carefully turned the woman’s head with the tip of his sword to get a better look at her face.

“Good Lord!” Joshua exclaimed, “you know who she is?”

The others responded with puzzled expressions.

“Who?” asked Othniel.

“And how do you know her?” Salman asked.

They were fair and simple questions, but Joshua dreaded their frightening answers.

Seduction

Aschar, the daughter of Caleb, was burdened with shyness and stunning beauty. Her long jet black hair and fine features drew so much attention, she couldn’t hide her embarrassment behind an innocent smile.

Each day she delivered water in a small cart for the guards at every entrance to the camp. This was her responsibility since turning sixteen, which probably explained why Othniel was so diligent with his guard duty and so thirsty all the time.

Unfortunately for Joshua, Othniel’s infatuation with Caleb’s daughter was just another distraction in the hunt for the Midianite woman.

“You'll need a miracle to win her hand”, said Joshua.

Othniel shook his head in frustration.

“Caleb is an old far...”

“...father in the faith,” interrupted Joshua, as he dragged Othniel away before he made a fool of himself gawking at Aschar.

“Come on, there’s no time for chit chat. Look, Phinehas is destroying the whole camp.”

Phinehas, was indeed crashing through tents like a bull on a rampage. With no regard for life or property, he blazed a path of destruction wherever he went.

Barging through bystanders, turning over bales of straw and sending chickens flying into the air - it was easy to see where he had been by the chaos he left behind.

“Why is he so angry?” Othniel asked, in between two rows of tents.

Joshua thought carefully about his answer, with everything going on he wasn’t in the mood to give a speech.

“You never knew his grandfather, did you?” said Joshua.

“No.”

“Then you don’t really know him.”

“You’ve lost me,” Othniel replied, looking completely dumbfounded.

“Don’t worry,” said Joshua, “there’s time for that later.”

In the secrecy of their tent, the naked Midianite woman rode her drunk companion like a wrangler taming a wild horse. The soft olive skin of her perfectly slender back was completely defaced with elaborate tattoos of mysterious symbols and demons.

One such marking, right between her shoulder blades, depicted a serpent devouring a newborn baby. It was so hideously offensive it would have shocked Zimri to his senses if he saw it, but he never did.

“What harm is it?” she softly whispered, like a black widow seducing her mate into the jaws of death.

“They'll kill me. This is bad idea, don’t you think?” replied Zimri, feeling particularly vulnerable where he lay pinned on the ground beneath her.

“It’s only bad if you get caught,” she replied, “besides, it's just a little baby. Why can’t I have our baby?”

Zimri's drunken stammering turned to sobbing as he realized the error of his ways. He sat up and struggled to squirm his way out from underneath her.

But it was too late.

The Hunt

Surprisingly, it was Othniel who first found the brazen couple. They were rolling around in a hay cart, completely oblivious to the chaos of panicky sheep and goats around them.

“Get up,” he yelled, holding the tip of his spear in their faces - but the couple just kept laughing.

“Stop it! Have you no shame? You want to get yourselves killed?”

“By who? You?” the woman laughed and continued on her merry way.

Othniel stood confused and double minded. He wanted to kill them but couldn’t bring himself to it. Furthermore, he was getting queasy at the sight of them making out.

“Phinehas! They’re here. I found them!” he yelled and ran off for reinforcements. Deep down in his heart, he hated himself for not finishing the job.

Of course, by the time Othniel returned with Joshua, Salman and Phinehas the naked couple had disappeared. In their absence, Othniel had nothing but excuses to offer.

“I’m sorry. I thought they ... they were just here. They really were, you have to believe me.”

“You idiot. Why didn’t you kill them?” yelled Phinehas, “you had them right there in front of you.”

“There’s no need to defile the camp with their blood,” Joshua added.

“What, just have them run riot?” Salman replied.

“Look, as long as we keep arguing they’re getting further away,” Joshua interjected, “Now let’s use our heads and find out where they went.”

The pillar of fire cast it’s omniscient glow over the camp as the four men searched frantically amongst the rows of tents. Finding the couple would be a daunting task in a refugee camp of several hundred thousand families, but they were hot on their trail and had the advantage of sober minds and plenty of witnesses.

“Did you see them? Where did they go?” Joshua asked a crowd of bystanders.

“My word,” replied an old lady “they were as fast as foxes, and stark naked too.”

“But where? Which direction?”

“Oh, over there I think,” she replied vaguely pointing her finger somewhere, “but I had to shut my eyes.”

“Oh that’s great! That’s real helpful” laughed Phinehas sarcastically.

“That’s fine Madam, thank you,” Joshua politely interjected. “Phinehas, search all these rows of tents on the left side with Othniel. No, come to think of it, Salman you go with Phinehas. I’ll take Othniel.”

Joshua decided to team up with young Othniel, for the search was turning into a hunt and the boy’s courage was still untested. He needed no reminder of where this was going - the hill outside the camp was dotted with a dozen or more adulterers hanging from makeshift gallows.

Sin

Forty hard years had passed since crossing the Red Sea, and although Joshua kept a strong healthy frame for his age, the passage of time added lines to his face, subtracted hairs from his head, and multiplied the burdens on his soul.

All was not well in the Hebrew camp.

Walking briskly towards the tabernacle that evening, Joshua passed countless rows of people struck with the plague. Lying on mats outside waiting for a miracle, old men coughed up blood in between desperate gasps for air and young children screamed uncontrollably in the arms of loving parents.

The horrifying sights were almost too hard for Joshua to bear. He had to harden his heart and just keep walking, if only to convince himself that he was doing something to help.

Entering the tabernacle, he was encouraged to see hundreds of elders inside already down on bended knee praying fervently. Following behind, Salman and Phinehas planted their spears at the entrance and hurriedly caught up with Joshua inside.

“Where’s Othniel?” asked Joshua

“Still searching,” replied Phinehas, “You know the kid, always something to prove.”

“Don’t write him off,” Salman interrupted.

“Either way, I'll have to tell Moses the news,” said Joshua.

“Better you than me,” Salman murmured under his breath.

At the front of the meeting, the wise old prophet Moses prayed earnestly on his knees before the altar. Far older and more human than anyone dared to admit, his heartfelt prayers seemed too holy to be interrupted.

“Lord, remove this plague from us, as we have removed those joined to Baal. Lord forgive us. We have wandered from your ways, we have hardened our hearts and now we eat the fruit of our sins. Save us from ourselves.”

Joshua hesitated, looking back again at the entrance of tent just as Othniel arrived and planted his spear in the ground. The young baby-faced soldier was barely seventeen years of old, and what he lacked in height, he more than made up with his stocky frame. Unfortunately for Joshua, Othniel shook his head in disappointment. He was empty handed.

Joshua turned back again and reverently approach his mentor.

“Moses, we've searched everywhere. We can’t find the culprit. We don’t know who caused this plague. I don't understand”.

The old prophet slowly rose to his feet and turned around to face him. A chill raced down Joshua's spine as he saw the fire in Moses' eyes. But he was staring at someone else at the back of the meeting.

At the entrance of the Tabernacle two young lovers stumbled into the assembly - a young Hebrew man called Zimri and a pretty Moabite women wearing a lot of jewelry and not much else. Both were drunk with wine and lust.

She was strangely pretty, but it was an ugly sight. Much of her scantily clad body was covered in the idolatrous symbols of Baal. To make matters worse, despite hundreds of elders gasping with horror at this blasphemous spectacle, the two lovers burst into uncontrollable laughter and quickly ran away into the night.

“Murderer!” yelled Phinehas as he sprung to his feet in righteous zeal and ran to fetch his spear. “Come on, let's catch a whore,” he appealed to Salman and Othniel.

“Phinehas! Careful what you do with that spear!” Joshua yelled. But it was too late, he was off in a flash with the others not too far behind.

For Joshua’s old legs however, it took a little longer.