The Warrior: Caleb by Francine Rivers Page A

that Aaron was dead, shock spread through the camp and the people went into mourning. No one had expected God to take Aaron. Thirty days passed before the cloud rose and the people followed Him along the road to Atharim.
    Shouts and screams came from the distance. Armed and ready to fight, Caleb shouted for his sons. But it was already too late. Canaanites living in the Negev, led by the king of Arad, had attacked and taken captives. The people mourned and raged. It had happened so quickly, no one had expected it.
    Caleb’s wrath boiled over. “Give us leave to destroy them.”
    “It is not my decision,” Joshua said.
    “Will you never stand and cry out to the Lord as Moses does?” Caleb strode into the courtyard of the Tabernacle. “ Lord! ” People stopped moving and stared. “Lord, send us.” No one spoke or even dared breathe. “Deliver these people into our hands and we will destroy their cities!”
    Moses rose from his knees and came toward him, face haggard. Caleb stood his ground. “Forty years we’ve wandered because we did not have the faith to go into the land. Will we lack faith again? The Lord said the land is ours. Don’t tell me the Lord wants us to be attacked and made slaves again. I won’t believe it!”
    Moses’ eyes caught fire. “The Lord has heard our plea and given the Canaanites over to us. ‘Go!’ saith the Lord. ‘Go and destroy them and their towns. Leave nothing standing and no one breathing! Go in the name of the Lord.’”
    And Caleb and Joshua did.
    The place came to be known as Hormah: “Destruction.”

    When Moses led the community back toward the Red Sea in order to take the route around Edom, Caleb had to turn his mind to daily training rather than give in to his growing tension and impatience to reach Canaan. When he heard grumbling, which came more often since the victory over the king of Arad, he reminded the people of what Moses had said: “The Edomites are sons of Esau, and therefore our brothers.”
    “Brothers who treat us like enemies!” Jesher was as eager to fight as his older half brothers Mesha and Mareshah.
    “It matters not how they treat us.” Caleb reined his sons in like young stallions. “We must do what is right.”
    “Anyone who stands in our way stands in the way of the Lord!”
    Caleb felt a prickling of apprehension. He grasped Mesha by the shoulder. “Who are you to presume you know the will of God?” He dug his fingers in until his son winced. “It is Moses who speaks God’s Word, and it is Moses who says we must go around Edom.” He let go of his son and looked around the tent at the five others. “You would all do well to remember that, whether we like it or not, Esau’s blood runs in our veins.”
    They couldn’t quibble about Edom, so they focused their anger and impatience elsewhere.
    “We never have enough water!”
    “I’m sick to death of this manna.”
    “When will we have something else to eat?”
    Beneath the surface of their complaints was a lusting for vengeance upon Edom and what they believed was a needless delay to the gratification of entering the Promised Land. The people coiled in small groups of malcontents, hissed and struck at Moses, forgetting how he had loved and prayed for them every day, all day, for forty years.

    Reaching for some firewood, Caleb felt a sharp sting. Sucking in his breath, he drew back his hand. A snake hung from his arm, fangs sunk deep into the tendons of Caleb’s wrist. Pain licked through his veins. Some women screamed.
    “Get back!” he cried out as he shook his arm. Rather than shaking free, the serpent’s tail curled around his arm and tightened.
    Caleb grasped the head and yanked the snake free, tossing it away from him. It coiled for another strike. Caleb’s grandson Hebron drew his dagger and sliced off the snake’s head. As its body writhed in the dust, Caleb crushed the head with his heel. Then, losing strength, he went to his knees.
    The poison worked quickly.