Army of God

by Dennis Bailey

  Once the moon crested the horizon, Noah walked back across the field. Since his face hadn’t been seen, and because the soldiers were seeking someone with his head covered, he removed the hood. He would count on the darkness to keep from being recognized as Lamech’s son, aided by the soldiers’ expected level of intoxication. Judging from the noise coming from the square, it appeared they were well on their way.

  He exited a side street onto the main road, where several vendors remained open for business. His benefactor, the melon merchant, was not one of them. He was sorry he didn’t have an opportunity to thank him, or to speak to the men who’d seen the woman following the caravan.

  He peered down the well-lit street to where the fifty horses, and he hoped his donkey, remained tied. In between, nearly four hundred cubits of ground had to be crossed without being recognized. About a dozen people occupied the street, five of whom were soldiers. He moved down the right side close to the buildings, the side where only two soldiers barred his way.

  The first soldier was in the middle of the street talking with a vendor, a good forty-five cubits away, but glanced at him as he passed. He fought the urge to look away, instead he peered directly into the soldier’s eyes and nodded in respect, a gesture returned by the soldier. Noah let out a deep breath.

  The second soldier stood directly in his path, conversing with a young woman in provocative dress. Noah considered moving farther out into the street, but decided against it fearing the move might draw more attention.

  It proved to be the correct one. The soldier was so busy negotiating the price of flesh, he didn’t even bother to look at him passing within arm’s length.

  One hundred and fifty cubits to go.

  He relaxed a bit when he cleared the near end of the marketplace. He quickened his pace and set his sights on where his donkey had waited for more than eight hours.

  He stepped to move away from the building when a door swung open and three soldiers poured into the street. He stopped short to avoid running into them, but not far enough to keep from smelling them. Stumbling and slurring his words, one of them grabbed him and drew him in close. “Hey, I know you. You’re—you’re.” The soldier gestured to his companions. “Who is he?”

  “Are you kidding? I can’t remember what my own father looks like right now.” The second soldier chuckled.

  “Leave him alone,” said the third. “It’s getting late, and I still need a woman.”

  “I got it,” the first one said. “You know who you look like?”

  Noah’s heart raced within his chest, but said nothing.

  “You look just like the son of our former governor.” He again looked to his cohorts “What was his name? Noga? Boah? Nohar?”

  “Noah,” the second said.

  “That’s it! You look just like Noah. Did anyone ever tell you that?”

  “Nah,” the third said. He can’t be. Noah died thirty or forty years ago.”

  “Really? Well he sure does look like him.”

  The second and third soldiers grabbed the one holding Noah and pulled him away. “Let’s go.” The three of them moved past him up the street.

  He wiped the sweat and drunken soldier’s spittle from his face and pressed on toward the horses. When he arrived, anger and exasperation seized him. He looked back up the street in awe of the obstacle he’d just negotiated, then to the empty post in front of him.

  His donkey was gone.

  And so were all the others.

  What now? Even if he had the time, he wouldn’t know where to begin to search for him.

  “Psst,” a voice said.

  He spun around, unable to locate the source. “Psst. Over here,” came the voice from a figure motioning to him from within a group of horses across the street.

  He moved toward the man, but for the shadows didn’t recognize his being a soldier of Eden until he was nearly upon him. Noah felt beneath his tunic for the hilt of his sword. “I wonder, sir, if I could impose upon you for about ninety parts?” the soldier said.

  Do I have a choice? “How can I be of service?” Noah said.

  “I drew the short straw and got stuck guarding the horses while my friends are stuffing their gullets with wine and food. Would you be kind enough to watch the horses for a short time while I get something to eat?”

  Noah didn’t want to appear too eager. “Will you be long?”

  “Oh, no. I’ll be right back.”

  The soldier raised his hand and walked away. Noah returned the wave. He moved to a group of horses furthest from the square, untied the last one, and quietly walked it out of town on the main road.

  He rode all night to put as much distance as possible between him and the soldiers. Though he’d been unable to confirm her identity, someone matching Shiphrah’s description remained in pursuit of the caravan.

  He continued west.

  Chapter 29

  Shechem was grateful for the first real break in solving the murders. It’d come at the expense of the lives of twelve citizens of Eden, but his theory had been correct. The killer had finally been seen. No longer an invisible force or shapeless monster, the murderer now had a form. And it was the form of a man.

  Even more gratifying was the fact he’d been one of the witnesses to see him. Another, the young boy’s mother, confirmed she’d stepped outside in time to see her son’s body fall from the grasp of the dark-cloaked man.

  There’d been a third witness, but it was one he was loath to divulge lest he be forced to reveal he’d followed Claudia. Besides, he doubted his wife would be any help in identifying the killer anyhow, whose face, like hers, had been shrouded.

  Still, his progress in the case was dampened by the reality the killer had escaped, despite an overabundance of troops in the area. The soldiers sent to pursue the killer immediately following the boy’s murder had turned up nothing. And he and his men had spent the rest of the evening running to the sound of every disturbance or woman’s scream.

  This morning, Bohar provided an unfitting end to the previous night’s frustration by razzing him about the low body count. “Congratulations. I heard you only had a half person killed last night.”

  “A half person?” Shechem said. “What’s that?”

  “Wasn’t it a child?”

  “A boy. Twelve years old.”

  “A half person.”

  Shechem shook his head. “Bohar.”

  “Yes.”

  “Your sense of compassion amazes me.”

  Bohar nodded while displaying a wide grin. “Me too.”

  Shechem couldn’t afford to be so droll. The death of a child would bring a new level of interest, and pressure, from the elders to apprehend the murderer. Being the official in charge of the investigation, the brunt of that pressure would fall on him. Only he didn’t need any additional motivation. Being a father was motivation enough. That and never wanting to look into another grieving mother’s eyes was all he needed to keep him focused on finding the killer.

  * * *

  Six days west of the city, Noah had his horse in a full gallop. He’d pressed the animal since their escape, pushing him to the limits of his endurance each day. Though largely constrained to navigating by intuition, if he maintained his present course he would eventually reach the waters of the Great Sea. Only one thing worried him, a fear intensified with each pause for rest or sleep. Would he be too late?

  The Great Sea was home to half a dozen ports along its eastern border, each providing service to a great many ships. Were Shiphrah to secure passage aboard one of them, he might never see her again. Moreover, as a beautiful woman traveling alone, she might easily fall prey to any number of scoundrels along the road.

  His best chance of finding her in time to avoid either calamity rested with the possibility Shiphrah had caught up to the caravan. Those were often slowed by the pace of the large number of travelers and animal-driven carts that defined them. They also tended to make more stops than riders journeying alone, increasing th
e possibility he might still be able to overtake them.

  Rounding a soft curve, the familiar pattern of a blanket’s weave caught Noah’s eye, prompting him to yank back the reins. Off to the right, an animal carcass the size of a pack animal lie at the bottom of a gully, its flesh picket clean. He descended the hill to investigate.

  Had he been ignorant of the possible injury to Shiphrah’s donkey, he might have ignored the familiar sight of dead animal beside the road. Now, negotiating the steep incline, his feelings of apprehension increased with each step, until . . .

  Miryam’s handiwork rested partly beneath the skeleton of a donkey.

  Blood spotted the blanket.

  He inspected the dead animal’s legs, a lump filling his throat at the sight of a rawhide patch fastened around the right front hoof. He tried to swallow it away, but the scene of dozens of footprints, animal and human, surrounding the carcass made the lump grow larger. A collection of footprints, still viewable in the copper clay of the culvert, could mean only one thing.

  Marauders.

  He searched for other clues. The absence of a saddle or bridle only reinforced his suspicion about the origin of the tracks. Marauders would never leave such valuable commodities behind. As for the blood on the blanket. Was it the donkey’s? Or Shiphrah’s?

  Perhaps it was better if she’d perished in the fall. For if she’d been taken by Marauders, she might now be wishing the same thing.

  * * *

  Shechem stood a few cubits behind Claudia while she brushed the sleep tangles from her hair. And with each downward stroke, his attention paused to focus on the soft, white skin of her neck.

  Why had the killer passed her by? If the murders in Eden were just about a body count, it would have taken only a moment to rip the knife through her throat. He considered Lamech’s theory, that indeed some method to the killings existed.

  Did his wife know how lucky she was to be alive, or did she even suspect it was the killer who’d bumped into her? Part of him longed to tell her, to chastise her for being so foolish. But then he would have to admit he’d followed her.

  Who was so important to her she would risk her life to see him? The silk merchant who made her clothes? He was handsome. The elder’s son with over a thousand sheep and cattle? Not as handsome as the silk merchant, but he was rich. Dozens of men came in and out of the palace every day. And they all seemed to have eyes for Claudia. The question was, which of them did she have eyes for?

  Without proof of an affair, confronting her would only serve to increase the schism between them. It would also alert her to his suspicions and cause her to become doubly careful about being secretive. No, if she had a lover, and he was to have any chance of catching her with him, he would have to remain patient.

  Besides, he still cared for her. In spite of her vanity, coldness, and late-night odysseys to secret destinations, he couldn’t bring himself to reject her. Not without solid proof. She was the mother of his daughters, and he would need more than supposition and coincidence for that.

  He decided to test her instead. “You remember the young boy I told you about last week?”

  “The one who was killed? Yes. What his mother must be going through.”

  “Well, I don’t know if I told you, but he was attacked just outside his front door.”

  Claudia shivered. “How ghastly!”

  “I wanted to remind you, even though we’re within the palace grounds, to be careful.”

  She stopped brushing her hair and turned to him. “You know I don’t go out alone at night.”

  There it was.

  The lie.

  Surely not the first, but the first he’d caught her in and another brick added to his wall of suspicion.

  * * *

  Noah continued west after observing tracks that appeared to both enter and leave the gully from the same direction. Based on the number of imprints found near the skeleton, he estimated the Marauder party to number around forty. He also knew they wouldn’t remain on the main road for long and risk running into a patrol of soldiers. This meant hoping to find the place where they’d turned off, if such a trail were still visible after more than thirty days.

  But even while he earnestly pursued them, he found himself wanting to lose them. Marauders were feared throughout the land of Eden.

  These descendants of Cain had left Enoch centuries ago, banding together to roam the land in groups of forty to fifty wayfaring plunderers. Known for their skill with the sword and merciless savagery in battle, they were capable of defeating enemies more than twice their number. Yet, despite this ferocity, they tended to shun the major cities, choosing instead to prey upon the smaller villages and towns.

  Fifty-five years earlier, Noah had witnessed firsthand the results of their ruthlessness when he passed through a village where every home had been burned and every man and woman killed. Strangely enough, evidence indicated they’d taken the children of the village alive.

  He briefly considered returning home for help but quickly dismissed the thought, realizing he would never be able to locate the Marauder’s trail again. Then again, what would he do if he found it? Even if Shiphrah were still alive and being held inside their camp, how would he get her out? Still, he owed it to Ham, and to himself, to verify her fate.

  He crested the rise in the road and was surprised by a group of fifteen soldiers approaching from the east. Too late to run now. Given their heading, he was fairly certain they constituted a separate company from the one he’d left behind. He just hoped they wouldn’t recognize the horse. Noah quickly pulled up the hood of his tunic, but his eye was drawn to a familiar face, one that likewise studied his when they passed.

  He knew better than to look back, although he could practically feel the fifteen sets of eyes piercing his back like darts. He pulled the slack out of the reins to keep his horse from increasing its gait and alerting the soldiers. Eighteen parts later the sound of their horses faded in the distance and he breathed easy—for a moment.

  He turned to the sound of horses returning, their hooves lifting clumps of dirt from the road as they thundered toward him. The soldiers surrounded him, the one he’d recognized pulled alongside and leaned to see past his hood. “Where did you get that horse, old man?” he said, eyeing Noah’s saddle. By his tenor, the man appeared to be in command of the group.

  The soldier’s saddle and the one his detainee sat on were identically fashioned. He gestured behind him. “In the city just ahead.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes, I exchanged my donkey for it.”

  “Who are you, old man?” the soldier said, stiffening. “Your face looks familiar.”

  “Just a simple farmer. One not worthy to warrant the attention of the soldiers of Eden.”

  Noah gently kicked at his horse’s sides, but the commander grabbed the reins from his hands. “What’s your hurry?”

  “Only the business to which I now find myself delayed.”

  The commander pulled the hood from his head and grinned. “It’s been a long time, Preacher.”

  “Do I know you?”

  “Not by name, but we encountered one another some forty years ago at Eden’s city gate. I worked for Bohar then. And you—well—you were about to be stoned.” The commander’s smile broadened.

  “Fortunately, that was not in God’s plan.”

  “You mean fortunately your sons showed up to save you.”

  “As I said.”

  “Just where are those two cowards?”

  He wasn’t about to let these killers anywhere near his family. “It may please you and Malluch to know I lost my wife and youngest son crossing the river the night we left Eden. Japheth died eight years ago of a fever.”

  “That’s too bad. I know Bohar was looking forward to seeing him again.” Several soldiers joined their leader in laughter.

  Noah didn’t know whether the commander truly believed him or not.

  “Bind him!” the commander said.

 
Four soldiers dismounted and yanked him from his horse.

  “Gently, men,” their leader said with a sneer. “Gently. This is the son of a governor of Eden. He should be treated with respect.”

  Noah’s wrists were bound with shackles.

  Chapter 30

  Tethered by a chain drawn behind a soldier’s horse, Noah accompanied his captors east along the road leading back to the city he’d escaped from. For three days, he’d gone without food or water. Twice today he’d fallen. Twice he’d been dragged. Cuts and contusions marked his wrists, and the heaviness in his legs made it difficult to walk. Had he the strength, he’d have been tempted to fight back, but the lack of nourishment had sapped his vigor.

  How could he have managed to elude a whole company of soldiers, only to find himself captured by this small patrol? And what of Shiphrah? Who was going to find her now? His only hope was she’d already joined the caravan, and the dead donkey was just a coincidence. Not likely, but possible.

  Yesterday, as they stopped to rest the horses, a soldier brought to his commander’s attention the obvious. “Begging your pardon, Commander, but aren’t we still a good ways from Eden.”

  “About ten days.”

  “With all due respect, sir, if you want to get him back alive, don’t you think we should at least give him some water?”

  “Maybe you’re right.” The commander pointed to a skin containing water on the soldier’s horse, then followed him over to where Noah slumped in the dirt. The soldier held out the skin to his outstretched hands, but the commander ripped it away. “I said to give him some water. Not the whole skin.”

  The commander opened the skin before his prisoner’s cupped palms, then poured the water onto the ground just out of his reach. He shook the last few drops into his hands, which he lapped up ravenously.

  “If it were up to me, I would have killed you back there and been done with it. But apparently Malluch has something special in store for you. Something to do with fire.”