East of Ashes

by Gideon Nieuwoudt

  The man was unbelievably quick, pulling his spear arm backwards and balancing on his back leg before Lamech could even bounce back. And suddenly Lamech knew his opponent had planned it that way...

  Even though you walk through the valley of the shadow of death...

  The soldier had timed it perfectly. The moment Lamech straightened, he knocked him with his massive shield. Unable to keep his balance, Lamech stumbled backwards and began falling to the ground. Even as he was falling, his opponent was on him - arm stretched backwards, spear pointed straight at him.

  He brought his arm forward so quickly that Lamech almost couldn't see the motion. The moment Lamech hit the ground, the spear drove straight through his stomach and slammed into the stone floor below him.

  Pain exploded through him. His head arched back, his mouth open in a silent scream.

  Othniel cut down the last remaining soldier and then turned around to see his friend being speared. He ran to assist him. The massive Caracen soldier had his back towards him, so Othniel lifted his sword high and to the side, gripped in both hands, and sliced at the man's legs. The force of the blow almost severed the soldier's legs completely, and he fell to the ground screaming in pain. Othniel was on him in a flash and cut off his head with one gigantic blow.

  Lamech lay on the ground panting, his eyes struggling to focus on the clouds in the sky as life poured out of him in a torrent. Othniel dropped to his knees next to him, laid his hands on his friend and began praying fervently.

  Through his pain and even though he could barely focus, Lamech somehow registered that his friend was extremely calm. The shock of it brought a moment of clarity and Lamech could suddenly see clearly, even though the pain was excruciating.

  He looked up at the ridge of the mountain behind the city and was stunned to see the sun break through the clouds directly in his line of vision. In the background he could still hear Othniel asking God to heal him, but it sounded far away.

  ... Do not fear...

  The ethereal voice he had heard during the fighting was suddenly very loud, the words reverberating through him.

  Then the final words rang like a gong: For I AM with you.

  The moment the words were spoken, the pain was gone. For a moment Lamech was completely stunned, unable to formulate a coherent thought.

  Othniel, however, was laughing like a mad man and crying at the same time. "Thank you Jesus! Hallelujah!" he cried over and over again, but Lamech couldn't understand why.

  And then he touched his stomach and his hands began shaking as he realised there was no wound. Othniel helped him to sit up straight, still laughing and giving praise to God.

  Lamech explored with trembling fingers the hole the spear had left in his armour, incredulously staring at his blood-stained tunic below it. But when he touched his stomach, the skin was smooth and without pain.

  With a flash of understanding he looked up at Othniel who laughed even louder at the wonder in his eyes.

  "Yes, my brother!" he cried, "The Lord of Hosts has healed you!"

  Othniel did a little dance on the spot. The sight was funny but Lamech didn't - couldn't - laugh. And then the full force of what had just happened struck him and he collapsed onto his back.

  Lamech lay there, blinking as he looked up at the sun bursting through the storm clouds. Thoughts and emotions churned below the surface of his consciousness, looking for a way to break out into the open. Then they found it. Tears welled up in his eyes and formed silent rivulets down the side of his face.

  At last he understood what Joash and Leala had been on about.

  Thankfulness welled up from deep within him and his lips trembled. Slowly he sat up, swallowed a few times and eventually found his voice.

  "Othniel," he said softly. His friend walked over and kneeled next to him. "Pray with me."

  Nodding his head in understanding, Othniel clasped his hands, bowed his head and prayed: "Lord, we are simply consumed by your goodness today. Even in the midst of the ungodly bloodshed that's taking place here today, You have cast down a ray of light to envelop us; to remind us that even when evil seems to triumph around us, You will not be diminished; Your love continues to be with us. We thank You for bringing hope into our midst today."

  "But more so I thank You for healing Lamech - and for bringing life to him in the darkness that he's been living in. Thank you for bringing forth beauty from the ashes. And so I pray on behalf of my friend that you will become the Lord of his life today, Jesus. He gives his life in surrender to You. Please forgive him his sins and remove them from him as far as the east is from the west. Lead him now down a path of righteousness, and life to the full. Amen."

  Lamech had been nodding his head vigorously, silently mouthing agreement with every word that Othniel had been praying; the words his own. Opening his eyes, he saw his friend staring at him with a big smile and tears streaming down his face.

  "This is why I came on the Crusade," Othniel said. "For a time like this."

  Lamech couldn't say anything, his throat constricted with emotion. So he grasped Othniel's hands tighter and nodded.

  They sat like that for a few moments, silently contemplating the magnitude of what had just happened. Lamech still struggled with the fact that he was completely healed from a mortal wound - not to mention being cleansed from his sins in one miraculous moment.

  But he knew it to be true - the weight that he had been carrying on his shoulders all these years suddenly felt lighter. The storm in his soul had subsided too. He instinctively knew it was still there, waiting for him to drop his guard and let it out again, but he also knew that with time that storm would be destroyed completely.

  Right now, however, the sound of another storm was slowly breaking through into his consciousness. Turning his head towards the city, the sound of raging battle became clearer.

  Still shaking, Lamech struggled to his feet. Othniel helped his friend and together they looked down at the city.

  The carnage that met them rocked Lamech to his very core.

  Normally when a city is taken, the conquering army would burn everything to the ground. The princes had, however, given strict orders not to destroy anything for fear of not having proper defences when the advancing Caracen army arrived.

  That did not, however, stop the Crusaders from killing, raping and looting.

  For the first time Lamech understood just how evil this whole Crusade was. After talking to Othniel that evening - which now felt like years ago - he had felt there was some truth to his words, but he hadn't thought his friend completely right.

  Now, looking at so-called Christians killing everything that moved, leaving the streets stained bright red while pools of blood formed in depressed corners, he realised that not only was God not behind this war, but that these men were not Christians at all.

  The murderous scenes were cast in shocking contrast to the light, love and hope that he had experienced just moments before. It left him deeply disturbed.

  Othniel had been right after all.

  CHAPTER 12

  --- Antioch, 3 June 1098 ---

  That evening Lamech set out to return to Europe.

  He was still struggling to come to terms with how dramatically his life had changed in the space of a single day. His miraculous survival on the walls of Antioch was earth-shattering enough, but the ensuing events had been equally dramatic.

  After witnessing the bloody slaughter of the city's inhabitants, Lamech had sought out a quiet place to try and sift through his emotions. All around him the Crusaders were celebrating while inflicting unimaginable horrors on the remaining survivors.

  It was difficult to find a quiet place away from the stench of evil, but eventually he found a nondescript little house wedged up against the walls of the city.

  He went back to find Othniel, who was busy lending a hand tending to the wounded, and told him where he could be found. His friend, sensing that Lamech needed some time alone to sift through his thoughts, smiled enco
uragingly and said he would come and find him if he needed him.

  Lamech, thankful that his friend understood, left him and returned to the little house.

  The former owners of the house were nowhere to be found, but Lamech set about cleaning up the mess left by looting soldiers. Even as his hands kept busy putting things back in order, some part of him cried deep inside at the futility of his actions when faced with the destruction around him.

  And he knew it would not stop until Jerusalem suffered the same fate.

  After he had finished tidying up most of the mess, he rolled out his bed mat in one corner of the little house and lay down. He lay there on his back for a long time, just staring up at the ceiling, lost in scrambled thought.

  He alternated between thinking about the miracle he had experienced that morning - which had caused a deep burning flame of hope to roar in his heart - and thinking about the real purposes behind this Crusade.

  Struggle as he may though, he couldn't get his mind to focus on one thing at a time as his subconscious continuously hammered him with thoughts of futility. When he couldn't stand it any longer, he gave himself over to it and allowed it to come bursting forth.

  The real problem he faced was not one of whether he should continue on the Crusade or not. He now knew that no matter how much he fought in this war, atonement did not lie in any one act that he could ever do.

  He had gathered enough knowledge over the years to know that what he had experienced on the wall that morning was a gift - that the Lord had already forgiven him everything he had done. It was not something that he could earn through deeds, but a gift in its purest form. All he had to do was accept the offered gift.

  Previously he had scoffed at the very idea of a God that would forgive a man just like that. Surely something had to be done by his hand to atone for his deeds, to balance the scales? But now he realised that he could never pay the price required. And with that realisation he finally understood that Jesus had to pay the price on his behalf. It was a deeply humbling thought.

  But even as he accepted the Lord's gift with gratitude, he had a deep longing to do something - to rectify a wrong in some way.

  He couldn't explain it. He wasn't trying to justify to the Lord why He should have saved him. But he was saddened by what he saw around him, maybe for the first time ever. It wasn't even just the Crusade - he knew there was something very wrong with the world and longed to change some small part of it.

  He experienced a cascade of mercy that morning and he felt like pouring it out to others. It was like he knew he was finally free, but he still lacked purpose. Now that he was free, surely it had to have been for a reason? Surely he had been freed to make a difference - to be an agent of change for the good?

  He weighed up his options: if he were to continue in the war, it would mean nothing. He would only contribute to the death and destruction it left in its wake. He could always return to Europe - and deep inside him something stirred at the very thought - but for what? Danger, in many different ways, lay there waiting in hungry anticipation.

  He smiled at the sudden realisation that some things back in Europe wouldn't cause him any aggravation though. Some things good and true were to be found there. Even if he couldn't share in them directly, he knew that they would welcome him with open arms.

  Even as he thought it, he felt the stirring inside again. In fact, he wasn't entirely sure, but it almost felt like something was nudging him on.

  His thoughts were interrupted by a loud knock on the door.

  He got up and went to the door. A soldier stood outside and handed him a scroll without saying a word. Lamech thanked him and then closed the door.

  The mailbag must have been found at last, Lamech thought as he inspected the seal on the scroll. He didn't recognise it so he broke it, curious to see who would write a letter to him. Very few people - if any - knew that he was here.

  Unrolling the scroll, his eyes immediately scanned to the bottom of the letter to where the author's name would be. Cold shock shook him as he read the name.

  Leala.

  Questions aggressively fought for attention and he found it difficult to think. His hand holding the letter dropped limply to his side as he stood motionless for a moment. Then he looked back at the letter as if to make sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. He moved to the side of the room and slowly sat down.

  Suddenly frantic, he began to read.

  Dear Lamech

  I am not sure that this letter will find you amid the chaos that must be the Crusade, but I pray that it will - and that it does so before it's too late.

  I know that I would be the last person whom you would expect to hear from - and I also know that it might not be the easiest thing for you to bear.

  Lamech was surprised at her insight, but then with a slight smile realised that he hadn't exactly been secretive about his intentions. Still, he immediately realised she would only have said something like this if she had had a very good reason, so he continued reading in earnest.

  I say this because I need your help - desperately - and because I want you to know I am fully aware of what it might cost you. However, if you could see your way open in helping us, we'd be eternally grateful.

  Not long after we returned from Arles, Joash was arrested on charges of murdering Gaal during that terrible evening in Arles.

  Now Lamech was truly shocked. The very act that he had planned to commit had happened - and, more importantly, Joash was blamed for it just as he had intended him to be.

  He was instantly filled with remorse, but he pushed it aside and forced himself to finish the letter first.

  We both know that as much as Joash might have disagreed with Gaal that night in Arles, he would never have committed such a terrible act. However, his dagger was found covered in Gaal's blood at the scene of the crime and the authorities are convinced of his guilt.

  Lamech shivered at how closely his plan seemed to have been implemented - almost as if someone had read his mind. Someone must have picked up the dagger where he had dropped it and used it to commit the crime.

  Unnerved, he continued reading.

  As you can imagine, the Church wishes to make an example of him, but the extent to which they are going is shocking. The Pope himself is coming to Avignon in August to attend a special hearing.

  So confident are they of Joash's guilt that they don't even mind if I try and gather a defence for him, which is why I'm writing to you.

  It is my hope that you might have heard or seen something that night at Arles that could help prove Joash's innocence. I know it's a desperate hope, not to mention a lot to ask you to return to help defend him, but please consider it. If you can help us, I pray that you will return to Europe and do so.

  Thank you - may the Lord bless you and keep you, may His light shine upon you, and may He give you peace.

  Leala

  By the time he had finished reading the letter, his hands were trembling. As Leala revealed her desperate request the Lord had spoken deep into his heart - and he knew what he had to do.

  His thoughts were interrupted again by another knock on the door. Lamech struggled to get up and moved to the door on legs that felt treacherously unstable. He took a moment to collect himself and then opened the door.

  Another soldier stood there and bowed his head in respect when he saw Lamech. Taken aback, Lamech asked: "Yes?"

  "The Lord Bohemond requests you join him at the city palace. He wishes to talk to you."

  He couldn't care less about an audience with Bohemond, but the quiet voice inside nudged him on. He didn't know what the Lord had in mind but he could guess easily enough, he thought with a smile.

  "Of course," he said to the soldier. He went back inside, strapped on his sword and then followed him.

  Three blocks down the road, Othniel suddenly appeared by his side and together they walked towards the palace. Lamech looked at his friend.

  "I take it you've been summoned too?" he asked.r />
  "Naturally. Can't have you take all the glory," Othniel answered with boyish mischief in his eyes. Lamech just grinned at his friend.

  "Right you are."

  As they got close to the palace, they noted a number of soldiers also heading that way. Lamech recognised most of them as men who had scaled the wall with them that morning during the initial attack against the city. Lamech and Othniel joined them and made their way inside.

  Upon being ushered into a big hall inside the palace, Lamech immediately saw Bohemond and the other princes standing together in a huddle. It looked like the princes were congratulating Bohemond, albeit a bit grudgingly by the looks of it. Bohemond was, of course, positively glowing.