by Daron Fraley
They attempted to hurry through the meal, but before they could finish, the commotion of an army on the move already buzzed furiously around them. As they rose to leave the tent, Jasher greeted them at the door. They exited, and, once outside, could see the women’s tent had already been taken down. Abigail’s belongings were stacked in a couple of crates, ready to be loaded onto a wagon.
Jonathan noticed a sudden change in Rachel when she sighed and looked away. He gave her a concerned frown.
“I will be all right.”
“Are you sure?”
“I lost everything I purchased in Saron. . . but that’s not important. Remembering my capture made me think of Asah again. It makes me sick that I will have to tell Father about Asah’s death.” Rachel grabbed for his hand and held it tight, her brown eyes looking up into his.
“He was a very faithful steward. Uzziel will miss him greatly.”
“Yes, he will. Asah has been a lifelong friend to Father. The news will break his heart. How will I tell him?” Rachel’s lip quivered.
“I’ll go with you.”
Rachel squeezed his hand tighter.
Their conversation was interrupted as Jasher approached. He acknowledged Abigail with a brief touch of her arm. “Jonathan, I would like to march soon. Are you ready?”
“I am. We need to get to Ramathaim as soon as possible. I’m worried about Eli’s family—and for that matter, the entire city.”
“Agreed. I’ve arranged for mounts for you and all your companions. After you have gathered your contingent together, will you join me at the fountain?”
“I will.”
Shortly thereafter, the entire group assembled near the lion-guarded pool. The wagon loaded with items belonging to Jasher and Abigail caught Jonathan’s attention. It looked vaguely familiar. He motioned for Eli and Pekah to take a look. Eli grinned wide.
“Yes,” Eli said. “That’s the same cart.”
“I thought so! It looks as though your gift to the late emperor will get some proper use.”
Pekah laughed.
All around them in the central plaza, groups of tens and fifties made final preparations to leave, some with horses, some with wagons of supplies and weapons. Jonathan marveled at the sight. Never had he witnessed a mixing of the tribes—groups of fifties being comprised of tens of Gideonites and tens of Danielites, with occasional tens of Uzzahites scattered here and there. Before him, a sea of raven-emblazoned breastplates covering the green tunics of Gideon was accented by the humble browns and grays of Daniel, and garnished with the coarse whites and browns of Uzzah.
Above them, Azure and Aqua were hidden behind a tapestry of gray, causing the morning to be cool, yet slightly humid, as the mists of the previous night lifted from the damp cobblestones of the plaza. Jonathan peered heavenward, hoping to catch a glimpse of the blue suns, but could not make them out. Now three days since the Sabbath, the two sisters were surely as far apart as they could be.
His neck ached. He rubbed it, noticing his own fatigue. Aimlessly scanning the crowd, his gaze fell on Jasher, who whispered to his next in command. Amon nodded, and Jasher lifted his hands until all chatter died.
“I wish to make good time in our travel today, so we are going to leave at once. We will take five hundred. Others are still gathering, and will bring up the rear with the supply wagons. I have arranged for horses for our group, especially on account of the women who will be traveling with us.”
A particularly rotund Gideonite shouted from the back of the crowd, “Will the emperor’s chamber be loaded up and brought with us?” His deep voice rumbled across the plaza, and those who heard him turned to look at the platform. Jonathan could see the dark wood flooring, once part of the portable stateroom of the emperor, and right next to it, a pile of broken beams, splintered lumber, and other pieces of ruin.
Jasher hesitated, but then responded gravely, “No. We will leave it. Let the Danielites of Ain have it. Perhaps they wish to save it for a memorial, so their children will remember what happened here yesterday when a very brave man named Pekah came to visit the emperor of Gideon . . .” Jasher’s voice trailed off, and then with a tremor in his voice, he exclaimed, “And remember today, when Gideon rides with Daniel and Uzzah. May our peoples never war again!”
A cheer went up from the group. Jonathan felt Jasher’s humble words pour into his own heart, and he was thrilled by the joy and excitement shining in faces all around him. Many in the group shook hands in friendship, and a break in the clouds spilled light across the city.
Rachel squeezed Jonathan’s hand, but he hardly noticed she had done so at first. She tugged a little harder, finally getting his full attention. He turned to see tears of joy in her eyes, apparently also deeply touched by Jasher’s pronouncement. Grateful for her sensitivity, he pulled her close and felt her warmth.
Daniel. Uzzah. Gideon.
Jonathan soaked up every detail—the crowd, the fresh smell of the light fountain mist floating in the air, the blast of a horn as Jasher waved the troops out of the plaza, Rachel’s hand in his. Everything about the experience made his skin tingle.
“I will remember this forever, Rachel.”
“Which part will you remember most?”
“The tribes, all together. Our children will hear the story of this day until I’m too old to tell it, or they are too tired of hearing it.”
“You will be a wonderful father, Jonathan.” Rachel pulled him close and kissed him.
Chapter 19
Assassins
The next day Jonathan awoke to the warm glow of both suns and heard the enthusiastic chirping of birds in the trees all around him. They had camped in the Geber Pass, their tents filling every level spot next to the road that hugged the Saron River, winding between craggy cliffs and sheer rock faces. Gurgling from the swift water echoed against the nearby rock walls on the east, while the clangs, scrapes, and voices typical to any breakfast scene for several hundred soldiers bounced through crevices and cracks on the west.
Jasher’s company, led by Amon, had been joined by three other captains of fifty during the previous day, and the smoke from fires belonging to two thousand others was strung out as far as they could see toward the valleys and mountains of Ain—the city itself no longer visible in the distance. Most of the men in Amon’s camp had eaten and darted about in preparation to march once again.
Jonathan stood with Eli, Pekah, and Tavor, all dressed in Gideonite armor. A breastplate large enough for Eli had been found and brought to the camp during the previous evening’s meal. He wore it proudly.
Searching for either Captain Amon or the general, Jonathan spied Jasher apart from the camp, talking to Abigail. Eager to get Jasher’s opinion about leaving right away, he motioned to the others, and they started walking. As they approached the couple, Jonathan realized they were whispering. He held back, not wishing to interrupt any conversation intended to be private, but Jasher noticed them and waved them over.
“Good morning, Lady Abigail and General Jasher,” Jonathan greeted.
Abigail smiled and bowed. The general stepped forward and gripped the heir of Daniel by the hand.
“What a beautiful morning it is!” Jasher exclaimed.
“I don’t mind a little rain, but it certainly is nice to see the suns again after a day of total gray. Far better for travel, too.”
“With weather like this . . .” Eli said with a suspenseful long pause and a yawning stretch, “I am going to need another breakfast.”
“You would eat three, if offered,” Tavor chided with a wink.
Eli appeared shocked at the accusation, and then sheepishly shrugged his shoulders in a most exaggerated manner, causing his bright red beard to bunch up.
They were interrupted by the noise of horses riding fast from the north, and all turned to see who approached. Two Gideonite soldiers, both with wavy hair as black as night, rode up to the small group, pulling their mounts to a stop. The tallest one dismounted first and held both
horses in place, but the shorter, stronger one jumped from his perch, heading straight for the general.
“General Jasher,” he declared, “I am Zev. Ilan and I have been sent by General Rezon to deliver an important message to the emperor. Where can I find him?”
Jasher studied them, but did not answer.
Something peculiar about these two, Jonathan thought, watching them closely.
“The emperor is not in our company,” Jasher finally replied. “Can we talk about this message privately? I can then take you to Manasseh, if need be.”
Ilan shot Zev a troubled glance, but did not speak. Zev straightened and, with a wry smile, said, “Yes, sir. Would you like to walk for a minute?”
Jasher consented and motioned for the rest of the group to remain as he joined the two riders. Zev and Ilan led their horses by the reins, and the three of them went a short distance in the direction from which the two soldiers had just come.
Zev whispered. From where he stood, Jonathan couldn’t hear a word of their conversation. Meanwhile, Ilan frequently peeked over his shoulder, his expression puzzled. On his third glance back, his countenance changed to fear.
“Did you see that?” Tavor said in a low voice.
“Yes. The Gideonite just realized that Jasher travels with Daniel and Uzzah,” Eli replied.
Abigail stepped close to Jonathan, who stood next to Eli and Pekah. “Why are they each wearing a glove on the right hand?”
Pekah turned white as wool and grabbed Jonathan’s shoulder in alarm. “I’ve heard rumors of secret alliances within Gideon. They make pledges in blood, cutting their right hands.”
Abigail gasped. “Something’s wrong! They’re going to hurt Jasher!”
Jonathan’s jaw clenched. Pekah’s eyes lit up with fire as he yanked his sword from its sheath, the sound of scraping metal heard by Jasher and the two soldiers. They turned to see. Recognizing that their situation had become very precarious, the two soldiers backed away from the general, putting Jasher between themselves and the others. Jasher startled, arming himself in a second.
Zev’s reflexes were as quick as a cat. He was on his horse, spurring it northward, before anyone could move to stop him. Ilan too attempted to mount, but before he could get in the saddle, Eli threw a sizable rock and hit him in the back with such force, he was knocked to the ground. Jasher pounced, his sword tip pressed against Ilan’s neck.
Jonathan grabbed for an arrow from his quiver, but realized his unstrung bow was of no use. He drew his own sword and stepped next to Pekah for support as Zev disappeared behind a rising cloud of dust.
“What is your message for the emperor?” Jasher thundered, pressing his sword point harder against Ilan’s neck.
Ilan did not respond. He lay on his side, wincing. Jonathan and the others approached, weapons in hand. Jasher backed away as Ilan was encircled. Ilan’s gaze darted all around at the Gideonites, Danielites, and Uzzahites above him. He trembled in fear.
Before Ilan could be stopped, he whipped out his belt dagger, placed the tip against his chest, and rolled over on top of the blade, choking out a pain-filled yell. Jonathan leaped forward, trying to grab Ilan’s shoulders, but was too late—Ilan gasped for breath, then stilled. Frustrated, Jonathan dropped to a knee and flipped him over.
Abigail let out a soft scream and collapsed into a pile on the ground. Jasher ran to her, and Eli followed to help. The general lifted her sobbing frame into his arms, having some difficulty keeping her limp body from dropping again. The rest of the men gathered around, watching with great concern as Jasher consoled his wife.
After several minutes, Abigail was strong enough to stand on her own. She wiped the tears from her eyes onto the sleeves of her slim green dress.
“Are you hurt?” she asked, nearly sobbing out the words.
“I am fine, my love. I am fine.” Jasher rubbed her shoulders tenderly until she stopped shaking.
Abigail sniffed, then pulled her raven-black hair into a knot. She managed to give Jasher a thin smile.
His hand still on her shoulder, Jasher turned to address the men. “I didn’t see what happened before Pekah drew his sword. What made you all suspect something was wrong?”
With great admiration in his voice, Jonathan said, “Abigail noticed it. She asked why they were wearing a single glove.’”
Jasher squinted as if confused.
Pekah explained. “Her observation reminded me of a rumor I heard while serving under Captain Sachar—General Rezon has placed men under a blood oath to kill his enemies. They make the oath by cutting their right hands.”
Jasher’s eyes grew as large as apples. He looked at Jonathan, then at Pekah.
“They were going to kill you!” Abigail trembled, her body swaying.
Catching her, Jasher pulled his dear wife into his arms once again.
Chapter 20
Uzziel
Just after dawn, Uzziel the High Priest stood on the outer city wall of Ramathaim and peered over the crenellations toward the steep hillside below, hoping to catch some view of the army in the distance. He grumbled, still unable to see much of anything. Rains from the previous day caused a lingering, thick fog to enshroud the entire landscape, including the slopes of Bald Mountain over which the sister suns were rising. It would be another hour or so before they would be able to burn off the mists.
Josiah and Abram stood nearby, fully armed, with bows ready. Even though they were occupied with their own thoughts, their presence made the old high priest feel safe where he stood. Uzziel peeked over the battlements again, thinking about the previous evening when visibility had been hampered by the storms that rolled through. He hoped clearing skies would soon allow him to catch a glimpse of the progress being made below.
The Gideonite army had been camped there for the last four days, building embankments and connecting them with trenches. The trenches provided cover—the only way for the Gideonites to stay safe from an onslaught of arrows from skilled Uzzahite warriors. Each time Uzziel had checked, piles of earth and deep ditches were ever closer to the city walls.
Uzziel analyzed the strategy he had previously observed, marveling at the careful, deliberate planning being done by the Gideonite army. Clear paths on both sides of the advance had been left completely untouched by pick or shovel, along with a wide patch of ground next to the road from Hasor, running straight up the middle. This would allow siege machines and other heavy equipment to advance into position eventually. Yesterday, Uzziel had caught a glimpse of covered battering rams and weighted catapults being built. He expected the damage inflicted by the machines would be terrible.
Worried, Uzziel leaned against a merlon and looked over his beloved city. He felt gratitude for what he saw—elegant architecture and tactical design. Ramathaim nestled up against the Hara Mountains, its northern gates wedged far into a wide canyon leading to Karmel and other cities of Uzzah and Daniel. Two other semi-circular stone walls, each reaching for anchor points on opposite sides of the gaping canyon mouth, protected the southern side of the city. Skilled stone masons had anchored the gray granite blocks of the outer wall to the eastern and western cliffs, and the height was a dizzying drop of more than two hundred feet. The inner southern wall, although not as high, rested on the top-most terrace of a network of stepped gardens, orchards, and vineyards. A vast, arcing courtyard touched both the bottom terrace and the outer wall, unbroken except for a sloping road which climbed from the outer gates, up the terraces, through the main gates, and into the city.
Besides being the fastest way to the northern realms, the canyon provided a plentiful water supply to the city. Fed by natural springs, the small river descended from the heights above to duck under the northern wall, disappearing into numerous tunnels under the city streets. Various branches of the hidden river then poured into open-air stone canals that zig-zagged across the city until all routes met again at a beautiful pool in Ramathaim’s eastern quarter. Water then spilled over into an aqueduct that hugged the ea
stern cliffs and bridged the city walls. Reaching the end of its journey, the water plummeted into a small lake below the outer wall, and the remaining stream then meandered through the southern foothills until it turned east to the ocean.
As he looked northward, Uzziel thought of the reinforcements who had arrived the previous day. In addition to families seeking protection, warriors from neighboring communities to the north had poured into Ramathaim, greatly adding to its strength. The provisions they brought with them would easily allow the city to endure a siege of over ninety days, if the walls were not breached. Many of the northern cities had been emptied of their inhabitants, and a thousand of their men were staged in the northern canyon to protect both the passage and Ramathaim’s water supply.
All of this gave Uzziel some amount of confidence. Reinforcements and provisions were blessings from above. As long as the southern walls held, families would be protected.
Families.
Uzziel searched below for the road to Hasor, but still couldn’t see through the fog. Previously guarded emotions bubbled up within him.
Where are Asah and Rachel? They are now five days late.
Uzziel’s chest tightened. With Gideon here, may the heavens keep my daughter away!
He caught an unexpected sob before it could escape and gripped the parapet to steady himself. Neither of the attending soldiers seemed to notice his body trembling under the control he tried to exert. It took him several minutes to fight back the grief that threatened to overwhelm him.
With a heavy sigh, Uzziel motioned to Josiah and Abram to follow him back down the steep steps into the grassy outer courtyard. “I will come back later,” he said. “Perhaps with more time, the fog will burn off.”
“That’s fine. We can go,” Josiah replied.
Uzziel led the way. Already girded up, his robe was held in place by a coarse, white sash, but the steep decent still forced him to further lift the lower folds in order to prevent a fall. His robe, almost entirely white except for the exquisite blue hem, bounced on his bony knees with each step down the granite stairway.
