Blades of Valor

by Sigmund Brouwer

  Thirty-Five

  I have heard much of this sea,” Rashim said, gesturing past the wide beach. “Were not the soldiers in pursuit, I would send one of my men to test its waters.”

  Thomas concentrated on his balance. It was difficult work, to slog through the sand along its shore. Without freely swinging hands, the task was doubly difficult.

  “Yes,” Rashim was saying. “I am told the water is so salty that men float in it like pieces of wood.”

  Just one more step, Thomas told himself, one more step. And then another. We have traveled beyond Engedi. The next valley holds the Caves of Letters. Just one more step.

  Rashim grabbed Thomas by the arm as he stumbled.

  “My friend,” he said with a wide, false smile. “We cannot have you die.”

  Rashim whistled.

  Thomas was too exhausted to lift his head.

  The bandit ran up from behind, and Rashim impatiently called for water.

  Within moments, Thomas was drinking deeply. He did not mind the musky, leathery taste of water hot from hours in the sun.

  Rashim pulled the water bag away.

  “Are we near our destination?” Rashim asked.

  Thomas closed his eyes.

  Rashim slapped him. Gently.

  Thomas opened his eyes. He was able to briefly focus again.

  Beyond Rashim, the beach led to the flat, waveless water of the Dead Sea. Its waters appeared silvery white from the glare of the sun. Wavering in the heat, yet somehow appearing close enough to touch, were the high hills on the opposite shore, hardly more than ten miles away.

  “Are we near our destination?” Rashim repeated. “Already we can see the dust of the soldiers behind us. Their pace quickens now that they, too, have reached the shoreline.”

  Thomas nodded in a delirium of confusion. All he wanted to do was lie in shade, close his eyes, and finally die. His mouth had swollen and cracked from the blows dealt by Rashim earlier. His feet were blistered and his arms numb. Because his hands were bound so tightly, each jolting step had seemed to pull his arms from their sockets.

  “Where?” Rashim was saying. “Where from here?”

  Thomas tried to mumble something.

  It was not soon enough or clear enough for Rashim’s liking.

  “Bring the girl,” Rashim commanded the bandit who had brought water.

  When Thomas opened his eyes again to sway where he stood, Katherine was there, in front of him.

  It felt like a feverish dream. He struggled to push aside the curtains of white haze between them, to reach out and touch her.

  But his arms wouldn’t move.

  A sharp crack brought him back instantly.

  Rashim’s hand had flashed to strike Katherine flat across her face. A red welt appeared, showing clearly the outlines of Rashim’s hand.

  Rage burned away the mist in his brain and ignited his final reserves of strength. He set his feet wider, and the swaying stopped.

  “Where from here?” Rashim asked again and raised his hand to strike Katherine once more.

  She held her chin high, defiant, even as blood trickled from her mouth.

  His thoughts crystallized. One thought took hold and grew. A thought of hope.

  “Send most of your men ahead,” Thomas said firmly. “They must continue along the shoreline.”

  “Now you give commands?” Rashim asked.

  “The soldiers,” Thomas said. This small chance may be all we will be given. I must convince him.

  “Soldiers?”

  “Surely if all turn away from the sea into the valley of the caves, the soldiers will follow. And the valley has no exit. We will all be trapped.”

  Rashim squinted as he considered the advice.

  “We send most ahead to draw the soldiers,” Rashim finally agreed. “And cover our own tracks as we go into the valley.”

  “Yes,” Thomas said. “But Katherine and the knight must go with us.”

  Thomas held his breath. Any chance they had required the bandits be divided. If Katherine or the knight continued on with the others …

  Rashim shrugged.

  Thomas then felt his stomach shrink with momentary fear to the hardness and size of a walnut. He agrees easily because he cares little what happens to us when the treasure is found.

  “As you say, the girl and the knight travel with us,” Rashim said with a mock bow. “After all, I am a man who bargains fairly.”

  Thomas took a deep breath and looked around. Hands bound, he had no other way to point except with a jerk of his head in the direction of the rocky ravine just ahead. In his mind, the directions echoed clearly. “The fourth ravine will lead you to the caves of Bar Kokhba, where the last Jewish rebels died. There are five caves high on the sandstone walls. Bar Kokhba took his last stand in the fifth cave, the one farthest west from the Dead Sea.”

  Thomas hoped he and the knight would not join those rebels in the slumber of death.

  One hour later, he and the knight and Katherine, along with Rashim and five of the largest bandits, stood at the top of a path, near the dark circle of a cave’s entrance.

  Thirty-Six

  My good friend,” Rashim said, “I am pleased to discover you did not deceive us about the caves. But perhaps now it is time for you to die.”

  Rashim nodded once.

  The largest of the bandits drew a scimitar high above Thomas’s head and waited for another nod.

  Thomas set his jaw straight and stared straight ahead.

  I have done everything I can, Thomas thought. If this is how it must end, I will not beg nor show fear.

  The sword hung against the sky.

  Thomas became vividly aware of sharp details—a spider darted across a nearby boulder, intricate shadows of spiked leaves framed the cave’s entrance, a hawk screamed overhead.

  In that long, timeless heartbeat, Thomas became overwhelmed by awe. And joy. The smallest of things reflect eternity, he thought, suddenly unaware of the sword. What a marvel, that a creature as insignificant as a spider may be constructed so perfectly that it moves with such grace on legs lighter than thread. What an incredible mystery, the forces that direct this bush to grow, to shoot forth branches and leaves. What a wonder, the hawk that learns to conquer even the wind and untamed, goes where no man might predict.

  The passage of a moment became meaningless. The peace within him expanded and rushed outward, as if Thomas himself were becoming a part of the spider, of the bush, of the hawk.

  My God, he thought, again, I find myself facing death and crying out to You. But this time I am more than a boy, selfish and frightened of dying. I see life all around me, and in that life, I see You. How can I deny what my soul continually cries? You are Master of all of this. How can I fear death?

  “No!” a voice reached Thomas. “Do not kill him!”

  Thomas blinked.

  The pain of his swollen mouth returned. The throbbing of his blistered feet, the ache of his arms. No longer did it seem he could hear the spider’s steps across the boulder, no longer did it seem he rode the wind on the shoulder of a hawk.

  “You dare speak out of turn, girl?” Rashim roared. “Why would I take orders from you?”

  Katherine bit her lip and cast her eyes downward.

  Rashim sneered. “What is his life worth to you? I might be willing to make another bargain. A new bargain.” He raised his hand and she cowered, but instead of hitting her, he caressed her cheek. “For the right offer, I might even share this wealth.”

  “What if this is not the right cave?” Katherine asked. “Do we have time to search all the others? Will the soldiers remain in pursuit of the others indefinitely?”

  Rashim pursed his lips together, not fully convinced.

  “And you alone know how to escape this maze of rock. You mustn’t be hurt. Send Thomas ahead.”

  “What if he perishes in pursuit of our treasure? Will you blame me for his death and withhold from me your own … treasures?”

&nb
sp; Katherine’s eyes narrowed. “I want to live. I can only live if you live. Allow Thomas to seek our fortune. If anything befalls him in his quest, I will know that at least my life shall be preserved. Even if that life must be spent with you.”

  Rashim smiled. “That is no way to convince me, girl. But you are bound by your word, and these men are witnesses. And your foolish prattle has caused me to realize something far more valuable than executing this man. Yes, your friend shall live. For now. Let him be inflicted by vipers. Let him stumble into bottomless pits. Let him risk his life for us. I wish for us to live in luxury.”

  Thomas stared at the ground. He told himself that she again was bargaining for time, forestalling as long as possible the moment of their deaths, hoping against all hope that something might occur to set them free.

  But enough truth rang from her voice for him to feel the gnawing of doubt, and he realized he would rather have died than discover betrayal by her inside the cave.

  Rashim thought for only a few seconds.

  “Find brush for torches,” he directed his men. “We shall let the knight and his friend direct our way.”

  He grabbed Katherine by the arm and pinched cruelly. “This one remains with me as we follow. Should she—or they—falter, I will slice her throat.”

  Thomas and Sir William stood side by side, ten paces ahead of Rashim and Katherine and the five other bandits.

  “The strength of your arm?” Sir William whispered.

  “I can barely hold this torch,” Thomas replied. His fingers were still numb, even though the bonds had been cut fifteen minutes earlier.

  “Begin!” shouted Rashim. His voice now reflected nervousness. He was accustomed to ruling other men, not searching for the tomb of long-dead Roman soldiers.

  Rashim’s command still echoed as Thomas and Sir William moved ahead. The cave roof was beyond the reach of the flames of the torch, and the light that licked into all corners cast yellow fingers and gray shadows that made it difficult to judge the depth of the passage.

  “Tell me when your strength has returned,” Sir William whispered as they shuffled ahead.

  Only a part of Thomas’s mind heard. Another part was repeating Rashim’s words: “Vipers and bottomless pits.” What was ahead of them?

  Thomas focused on the ground immediately in front. Their light was not strong enough to illuminate much beyond them, and to search the far shadows played too many tricks with his imagination.

  “Tell me when your strength has returned,” Sir William whispered again.

  “We cannot attack,” Thomas countered with equal softness. “He holds a knife to Katherine’s throat. And we have no weapons.”

  “Where we find treasure, we will find the remains of soldiers,” Sir William said. “Where we find those soldiers, we will find their weapons.”

  Yes! The knight was correct. It increased their odds, no matter how slim! Thomas grinned into the darkness ahead. And immediately regretted it. His lips cracked again and he tasted his own blood.

  His mind now raced. We have succeeded in dividing this small army of bandits. Our hands are now free. We may have weapons soon. But how to get Katherine from the knife at her throat?

  Another thought. Will the sight of treasure prove to be enough of a distraction? Will that give the knight the final edge he needs?

  The cave tunnel widened suddenly into a hall.

  Light gleamed off something metal at the far corner of their vision.

  “How much farther?” demanded Rashim. Thomas could hear Rashim’s quickened breathing. His fear will be to our advantage as well.

  “I cannot say,” Thomas called back. “But look here. Signs of those who lived in this cave!”

  The gleam of light off bronze became a wide, rounded bowl and intricately designed pitchers.

  “Keep your distance,” Rashim warned.

  Thomas and Sir William moved ahead.

  Behind them, they heard the clang of metal against metal as one of the bandits prodded the vessels with a sword.

  The hall narrowed again, became one passage and then almost immediately divided into two.

  “Which side?” the knight asked.

  “Does it matter?” Thomas replied. “This entire cave must be explored.”

  Thomas dared not voice his single biggest fear—that the treasure already was plundered. Obscure and remote as this cave was, what if another over the centuries had solved the riddle?

  What if—

  Thomas tensed.

  Intent on watching the ground for snakes, he noticed something the knight had missed.

  A footprint. Then another and another. Dozens.

  Then he relaxed.

  In this still air, a footprint would be preserved for centuries.

  The tunnel widened again, and looking back at the torches of the bandits, Thomas could see that the other passage, the one they had chosen to ignore, had rejoined them again.

  They moved into another hall and discovered a basket of skulls, a tangled fishing net, and a large basin scooped into a wall.

  “Water reservoir,” Sir William whispered. “Dozens of people may have lived in this cave!”

  “Move quickly!” Rashim called.

  Thomas hoped Rashim’s knife would not tremble against Katherine’s throat with the anxiety now so obvious in his voice.

  Farther on they found a bundle of letters, the edges of the parchment so well preserved that Thomas relaxed. This parchment has withstood the centuries, just as the footprints.

  The hall ended abruptly.

  Thomas and the knight carefully searched for another passage, but found none.

  “We return,” Thomas announced to the bandits who still followed ten paces behind. “There is one other passage to explore. One where this hall began.”

  The bandits gave them ample room to move by. Despite the threat of a knife at Katherine’s throat, Thomas realized, despite the weapons they held, they still feared the knight’s fighting ability. They didn’t know enough to fear Thomas’s military prowess. But with any luck, they would learn quickly.

  The realization gave him even more hope.

  Now, we must find the treasure.

  Twenty steps down the other passage, they did.

  Thirty-Seven

  Thomas and Sir William held their torches out over the pit. The light did not extend downward enough to show the bottom, nor the other side.

  “What is it?” Rashim asked from behind them. “Why do you stop? What do you see?”

  “Only darkness,” the knight replied. “The darkness of a great pit.”

  Thomas lifted his light to survey the nearby cave floor. At the edge of the light, he saw a ladder made of rope. He retrieved it and lifted it partway to his waist, so that Rashim could see it too.

  “The treasure lies below,” Thomas said with a confidence he did not feel. Why else would a ladder have been left nearby?

  “Hurry then,” Rashim said. “Bring me a sample.”

  Thomas knew he must continue to act the role of one helpless with the fear of death. It was an easy role to play.

  He bowed his head as if he had been beaten. Then he noticed a small line of dark powder that circled the edge of the pit.

  He dropped the ladder, fell to his knees to retrieve it, and managed to smear some of the powder on his fingers.

  Strange, he thought as he turned his back and touched the powder lightly with his tongue. This bitterness has a familiar taste. And why should a line of it surround this pit?

  He had no time to ponder.

  Two of the bandits were at his side, holding their hands out to grasp the rope ladder.

  They lowered it over the side.

  Another bandit prodded Thomas with the point of his sword.

  With pretended reluctance, Thomas began to climb downward. The bandits were so large and held the rope so steady that the ladder hardly moved at all with his full weight upon it.

  Thomas took one final look upward to mark Sir William
’s position. If I find swords below, I cannot falter upon my return. I must toss him one without hesitation.

  Sir William’s strong face regarded him without changing expression. Then a slow wink, and Thomas felt strengthened.

  Thomas lowered himself slowly, one hand holding the side of the rope ladder, another the torch.

  How far down?

  He counted twenty-five steps, then touched bottom.

  “What do you see?” Rashim called down.

  Thomas realized that from Rashim’s position, there would only be the glare of the torchlight. No one on the edge above would be able to see below the torch, see what Thomas now beheld.

  There were piles of large leather bags stacked along one of the smooth vertical walls of the pit. The bags bulged as if filled with stones.

  Gold?

  Thomas moved sideways, still carrying the torch high so that the glare of the light shielded the observers above.

  He kicked at one of the bags. The preserved leather, dried from centuries of cool air, broke open. Chunks of gold trinkets and scattered jewels fell on the floor.

  “What is it?” Rashim called again.

  Thomas did not reply. He cared little for the treasure, glad only it could be used as a distraction.

  He needed to find swords.

  Thomas moved again, roving around the bottom of the pit. And nearly stumbled over a skeleton. Patches of clothing and armor covered the bones that lay in a curled position, as if the soldier had fallen asleep.

  The torchlight flickered over another skeleton. Then another. All in the same positions.

  Horror hit Thomas with the realization of how these soldiers had died.

  Someone above had taken the ladder away.

  It made too much sense. They would have carried the treasure down, then been abandoned so that the secret of the treasure’s location would die with them.

  “What have you found?” Rashim broke through Thomas’s spell of horror.

  “The price of greed,” Thomas muttered in a choked voice.

  He pushed beyond the terrible sight. There, stacked neatly against the wall, swords.

  Thomas took two and tucked them into the belt beneath his cloak. He hurried back to the leather bags and took a handful of jewels.