32
Deker followed Salmon to the Tent of Meeting, where a line of Gadites snaked outside with Achan at the end. Salmon and Deker walked past them inside the tent where Deker saw General Bin-Nun in the front with a priest beside him at the altar. The troops were lined up as though they were about to receive Communion, but it was no cup that Bin-Nun held in his hand.
“It’s a flint knife,” Salmon explained from the back corner of the tent where they stood.
“I see the knife, Salmon. Who is the priest?”
“Phineas’ father, Eleazer. His name is almost the same as the good angel.”
Deker watched as a soldier dropped his field kilt and knelt before Bin-Nun, his back toward the line, and looked up at his leader. Bin-Nun fixed his gaze on his soldier and brought down his knife. Deker himself tensed at the sound of the blade scraping the stone. There was a pause, and then Bin-Nun used his blade to flick a piece of foreskin to a pile at the end of the altar.
“Holy God,” he said under his breath. “He’s circumcising them, Salmon. But why? They’re adults.”
“Our fathers who came out of Egypt were circumcised, but we who were born in the wilderness were not,” Salmon explained. “Today Yahweh has rolled away the reproach of Egypt from us. The sons of Israel can finally take the place of their fathers. That is why General Bin-Nun is calling this place Gilgal.”
A hot fury quickly succeeded Deker’s revulsion. His efforts to save Bin-Nun’s army when they were most vulnerable, crossing the Jordan in a single day, were all for naught. This stupid mutilation of the troops would set back the attack on Jericho by days if not weeks. Rahab would remain at risk, and Hamas would have an incalculable reprieve to regroup and draw help from neighboring cities. Worse, it left the Israelite troops at less than half strength. Hamas could attack them at any moment.
“This is insane,” he said, trying to keep his voice low, but aware that his raspy words and snarling tone had turned several soldiers’ heads. “You can’t sack a city after you chop off the tips of your men’s dicks.”
Salmon moved closer to Deker, trying to shield his anger from the others. His eyes were still bright with hope, his voice imploring. “But this is the sign of faith in Yahweh from Bin-Nun we’ve been looking for,” Salmon said. “Don’t you see? Bin-Nun has surrendered his war plans to Yahweh and seeks a new directive. Yahweh will lead the way in battle now. Bin-Nun is announcing it was Yahweh and not Moses who led us through the desert for forty years to test our hearts. And it will be by the hand of Yahweh and not the edges of our swords that we take the Promised Land.”
Deker asked, “How long will the healing take?”
“They say about fourteen days for the healing to be complete,” Salmon said. “But the men can fight after seven, which is the end of the Feast of Unleavened Bread, which begins tomorrow.”
What Bin-Nun was doing, Deker now concluded, was cleverly securing single-minded devotion from his troops ahead of the impending attack on Jericho. Circumcision and the Feast of Unleavened Bread during the healing would keep the men from feasting on sex with their wives and food from the new land. There would be no repeat of the mistake Moses had allowed when the Israelites first pitched camp at Shittim in Moab.
Deker knew then and there he had to grab the rest of his explosives from Kane and break for Jericho that very night. He had done Bin-Nun’s dirty work twice now. He could wait no longer.
“I’m up soon,” Salmon told him stoically. “You’ll stay to watch?”
As Deker left the tent, he sensed Bin-Nun’s eyes follow him on his way out. But Deker didn’t look back, only heard the sound of the flint knife strike the stone and the scrape of the blade behind him.
33
Waiting until it was completely dark and the Passover meals had begun in the tents throughout Gilgal, Deker quietly made his way to the dramatic fires at the south end of the camp facing Jericho. There he beheld acres and acres of smelting furnaces—hundreds of them—stoked by Kane the Kenite’s army of metalsmiths. The pillars of fire lit up the night.
Bin-Nun has bred his army, Deker thought. Now he was going to forge his swords.
But as Deker looked closely at the smelting furnaces on his way to find Kane, he noticed only wood was going in to stoke the fires. Not a single blade or any other metal was being forged.
These pyrotechnics, he realized, were yet another example of Bin-Nun’s psychological warfare designed to strike the fear of God into the melting hearts of the Reahns huddled behind their walls. He could only imagine how the multiplication of Israel’s pillar of fire into more than three hundred fires looked to Rahab and what must be going through her mind even now.
At the same time, the firewall proved to be an invaluable defensive move, blocking the ability of the Reahn watchtowers to see behind it. Deker knew from night training how a bright object at night affected the naked eye’s ability to see behind it. A Reahn on the walls who turned his eyes away from the fires might require a half hour for his eyes to readjust. Bin-Nun, meanwhile, could safely maneuver his troops behind the light until he was ready to attack. Deker supposed the same could be true in the daytime with the smoke. Either way, the Reahns were blind.
“Is anything around here real?” he asked when he saw Kane standing outside his tent, tending to one of his larger furnaces.
Kane was smoking some stinking, home-fashioned cigar and seemed to have been expecting him. “Only the tin and copper inside the treasury of Jericho.”
Deker had already begun to suspect as much.
“So that explains why Bin-Nun is attacking Jericho,” Deker said. “And why he’s going to kill every breathing thing in Jericho, burn all its grain instead of feeding his own people with it and declare a
“The survival of Israel is at stake,” Kane said, pushing his iron poker into the furnace to stoke the fire. “If we prevail against Jericho, we will need all the weapons we can forge if we are to have any hope of going up against the superior armies of the five kingdoms to the south and the even stronger armies to the north. Gilgal here will serve as a station for the rest of the campaign for the Promised Land,” he pointed out. “The troops can pass through anytime for repairs and new weapons.”
“After they destroy Jericho and everyone inside.”
“Every breathing thing,” Kane said. “From the river to the Great Sea.”
Deker stood in the glow of the heat and looked out across the desert toward Jericho. He couldn’t even see it. All their lights were out, like a blackout for an air raid. Deker wouldn’t be surprised if many Reahns, despite the assurances of General Hamas, feared hailstones of fire were about to rain down on them as they had on the Egyptians forty years ago. Such was the cloud of terror General Bin-Nun had successfully blown over their walls. But it was a mirage that would blow over soon enough, and the walls would still be standing when it did unless Deker took action.
“Give me my explosives,” Deker demanded.
Kane eyed him up and down. Deker flashed no blade, but Kane seemed to understand Deker didn’t need anything more than his bare hands to kill quickly and quietly. “You want to go to Jericho tonight?”
“We promised her,” Deker said.
