by Daron Fraley
A cheer that seemed to shake the heavens echoed back and forth between the peaks on either end of the valley. Uzziel supported himself on one hand as he leaned closer to the observation slit, nervous about the retaliation he knew would be forthcoming. His hand trembled. Frantic activity down below made him look again. What he saw drew out a smile—sloshing buckets being passed so fast along a line of soldiers that by the time they reached the catapults, the remaining water was almost less than a spit. He had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing.
* * *
Rezon stood in the observation hut, seething with anger. He shouted orders for the three loaded catapults to be aimed in the direction from which they had been attacked. Responding to the commands, soldiers struck latches with mallets, and the machines launched their stones high over the wall. Yelling and great commotion from inside floated over the walls, heard by all the ranks of Gideon.
Stretching further out the open window, Rezon thought he could make out screams of pain.
Oozing with delight at the successful hit, he guffawed as he slapped Jael on the shoulder. “That will teach them.”
* * *
Uzziel held his breath as three large stones sailed high over the battlements, hurtling toward the open field between the walls of Ramathaim. He stood, his old eyes focused on their expected impact point, then he let out a sigh of relief when he realized the onagers were already being moved. He watched with interest as a group of Uzzahite soldiers ran up to the three Gideonite stones that missed their mark, now sunk into the grassy turf. Turning toward the wall with their hands cupped around their mouths, a few soldiers took turns yelling. Some of the men banged on shields. One of them screamed as if in pain. Then, with their ruse accomplished, they hurried from the area and rejoined their ranks.
Peering down to where the onagers had been moved, he saw that soldiers were already prepping them for another attack. He clapped his hands with joy as he saw the Uzzahite captains manning the weapons signal to the spotters that no one had been injured, and that all the machines were safe.
Soldiers brought fresh leather pockets to replace the ones that had been damaged by the flaming projectiles, then loaded more tarred iron balls. The targeting and firing process repeated, and as soon as the fireballs were airborne, the rope-drawn onagers lurched toward the central ramp.
Intent on the fields outside the outer wall, Uzziel listened as the missiles fell. He heard the splintering booms of another breaking catapult. He heard shouts—cries of pain—the twang of bows from enemy archers randomly targeting areas around the last known firing location. Above it all, he could hear a single man ranting at the top of his lungs. Unintelligible threats drifted up to the blockhouse. Uzziel could not make them out at first, but then recognized a few distasteful words. He frowned.
Leaving the blockhouse so he could avoid the language and also congratulate Captain Jeremy, stationed below, Uzziel motioned Josiah and Abram to follow. As he descended the steep stairs with Abram’s assistance, the ranting continued to echo off the cliff walls on either side of the city. Uzziel wondered who was so angry. The few words he could make out were offensive, and one even blasphemous. He wiped his brow, muttering under his breath.
“May the God of heaven have mercy on that man’s soul.”
Chapter 26
Subterfuge
Late that evening as the first stars flickered in the sky, the battle between Gideon and Uzzah paused like breathless silence at the end of a sigh. Rezon stood in the doorway of his tent, observing the tiny watch-fires upon the walls of the city. Repeated pounding on the archways above the main gate had not yet broken them, but support structures had crumbled. A single, great crack had also appeared above the gate. Now that they were unstable, Rezon suspected the archways would fall on the morrow.
He tore at a chunk of jerky, punishing the salty meat with his teeth. He was pleased by the progress made during the afternoon, but the recent loss of another catapult irritated him. He swallowed hard and gulped from a goblet. At his side, Jael and Gad discussed strategy for breaking the gates. He held up his hand, and their conversation ceased.
“So, you believe the arches will fall, and you will still be able to push the rams into place? How do you propose to move the rubble?”
Jael drew in a big breath. “Yes, they will fall. But not all the rubble will have to be moved. The rams are not very wide. Besides, with the arches down, whatever passageway the Uzzahites built into the wall will be completely exposed. Our own archers should be able to hold the enemy down. You will gain entry to the outer courtyard by nightfall tomorrow.”
Rezon looked at Gad, who seemed to agree. “You have convinced me. As you said, we will need to be prepared to hold the outer wall as we advance the catapults and rams.”
“It has all been arranged,” Gad assured him.
“Good. Even the archers?”
“Five hundred strong,” Jael replied.
“Wonderful. I am dreaming of entering the city. I hear it’s such a nice place to live.”
“You shall have the grandest estate we can find within the walls,” Gad promised.
“Estate?” Rezon asked, feigning surprise.
Gad flinched as if he had said something wrong.
Rezon sneered. “No, my dear captain. I do not intend to have the largest estate. I will leave that to Jael of Maharai.”
Jael folded his arms across his puffed chest. Gad now appeared to be confused.
Rezon leaned closer to the captain and said in an earnest, breathy tone, “I intend to occupy the temple itself.”
Jael let out a loud, approving whoop. The sound of it echoed off the walls of the city.
* * *
Just a day’s journey away from Ramathaim, four units of ten Gideonites readied for the night by finishing their evening meal, gathering firewood, stoking campfires, and posting guards to watch over the camp until morning. From a distance, Jasher’s advance group observed their preparations through numerous spyglasses. They knelt on the ground, talking in whispers.
Jonathan stowed his spyglass in his shoulder bag, grateful that the Gideonites had chosen to camp on the road rather than in Hasor. Inviting them to depart will give me great pleasure, he thought.
“What are your orders?” Amon asked the general.
Jasher paused, and then said with determination, “We will confront the group now. If they surrender, I’ll send them home to the mountains of Gideon. If they do not . . . we will end it.”
Amon motioned for Sodi, one of the other Gideonite captains in the advance group, to bring up his men. Sodi scuttled forward, taking a knee next to the general. Pointing to the village, Jasher ordered the captain to sneak off to the south and then approach the encampment by staying close to the western wall of Hasor.
“Sodi, I need you to obtain that western position, in sight of their camp, and wait,” Jasher instructed. “I will bring a company of one hundred and fifty right up to the camp, with the banners of Gideon out front, followed by Daniel and Uzzah. Captain Amon will take a position opposite you, with Captain Mehida to protect my flanks. Captain Ezra of Daniel will support. When the situation appears to be under control, join me.”
Sodi bit his lip and gave a seemingly reluctant nod before accepting the assignment. The hesitation surprised Jonathan. He glanced over at Jasher, but the general was intent on the enemy encampment. Jonathan felt certain Jasher had not noticed Sodi’s reaction. He wondered at Sodi’s strange behavior.
At Jasher’s direction, the captains left with their units to take up defensive positions. While the remaining group waited for Amon and Sodi to signal their readiness, Jasher instructed the women present to stay behind with another one of his captains. Both Abigail and Rachel agreed to remain by the road with the main army.
It took some time for the captains to get in place, but once they were, Jasher called for his men to march. The eastern hills swallowed the sister suns as the army stomped their way to the Gideonite camp, intentionally
drawing attention to themselves. Standard bearers took special effort to wave their flags in such a way as to make them easily discernible from a distance. Jasher even had one of his soldiers hail the Gideonites, telling them of their approach.
Jonathan saw that several armed men in the enemy camp formed a line between two tents, and one of them, a Gideonite captain, stared intently through a spyglass back at the approaching group. The captain seemed puzzled. He lowered his spyglass for a moment to speak to another soldier. That soldier disappeared into the center of the camp, and then a horn blasted in the air. Seconds later, men swarmed around their leader with weapons drawn, shields at the ready. Still staring at Jasher through the glass, the captain made some unheard comment to a soldier on his left, and then shook his head as if he could not believe the scene before him.
Jasher’s men closed in, the standard bearers falling in behind. He hailed the Gideonite captain in the camp, but the nervous soldier did not return the greeting. All forty Gideonites in the camp stood as silent as trees.
“Greetings, Captain of the Host of Gideon. I am Jasher of Bezek. I come in peace and wish to have a word with you in private, if we may.”
Again, the other captain did not speak. He stowed his spyglass, then fiddled with the pommel of his sword.
“What is your name?” Jasher asked with authority.
“I am Izri of Bethara.” He paused, eyes darting between colored banners. “A captain of Gideon. I serve faithfully under General Rezon, according to the will of Emperor Manasseh.”
Although directed at Jasher, Jonathan felt the sting of Izri’s accusation. He put a hand on Pekah’s arm, preventing him from drawing his weapon. Pekah’s face was red.
Jasher replied with an eerie calmness in his voice, “I am a general of Gideon, and I serve the best interests of Gideon and his peoples.”
Izri still did not tell his men to stand down.
Impressed by Jasher’s approach, Jonathan listened as the general masterfully controlled the situation. Jasher could have just commanded the captain to submit, but instead, the general rehearsed everything that had transpired over the last several days. By the end of the tale, all the Gideonites in the camp had sheathed their weapons, including Izri. Many of the soldiers appeared eager to join with Jasher and his men. These Gideonites stepped back toward the camp, allowing their leaders to work out the tension felt between the two groups.
“Will you join me?” Jasher asked.
Izri still stood between two other armed men, one of whom was also a captain. Izri acted as though he wanted to negotiate. He tapped on his breastplate under his folded arms. The captain next to him shifted on his feet, glancing nervously about. All heads turned to see Amon and Sodi approach.
Amon and Sodi commanded their troops to stand down, and most of their weapons were stowed. Sodi, still holding his sword, marched to the front with Amon, taking a spot next to Jasher. Jonathan made room for both of them. His interest piqued, Jonathan watched the general. Jasher still waited for a response from Izri.
Sodi and Izri made eye contact for the first time, an almost imperceptible signal passing between them. Jonathan pulled back, not able to tell what it meant. The exchange reminded him of the encounter in Geber Pass, and his palm found the pommel of his sword.
Jonathan looked at Amon.
“Yes, I saw it,” Amon whispered.
“Do they know each other?” Jonathan whispered back.
“It appears so.”
Jonathan’s eyes rested back on Izri with some suspicion. Izri’s hand was now on his weapon, but he remained as stiff as a statue and did not look at Sodi again.
Izri’s eyes were fixed on Jasher—a cold, empty stare, as if he were looking at the general, but not actually seeing him. Jonathan stiffened. He gripped the hilt of his weapon, ready to pull.
As fast as a lightning strike, Sodi swung his weapon high into the air, and then slammed the blade down on Jasher’s right leg. Pandemonium ensued as Jasher fell to his knee with a yell. Amon leaped toward Sodi, his sword thrusting forward. The sharp tip of Amon’s steel blade struck Sodi square in the chest, splitting his leather breastplate and killing him instantly. One of Sodi’s men took a swing at Amon, but Jonathan was able to block the blow. He then dispatched the man with a single stroke. He held his ground, hoping to prevent any other would-be attacker from within Sodi’s unit.
Other men loyal to Jasher lunged forward in an attempt to stop Izri and his soldiers, but only Izri and the two Gideonites next to him had armed themselves. The three of them screamed an unintelligible threat and rushed forward, trying to fight their way to the general. Somehow Izri broke through.
Just as Izri planted the tip of his sword in the general’s side, Izri’s head was lopped off in the wide swath of a sword held by a nearby Danielite. The other two men were killed before they reached the general. Fifty Gideonites, led by Captain Mehida, surrounded Izri’s remaining men, demanding that they surrender.
Jasher fell to the ground in agony. Pekah and Eli both knelt at his side, fumbling with a tourniquet around the wounded leg, while another soldier ripped green and white cloth from a banner. Yet another soldier pressed cloth strips against the deep wound in the gasping general’s left side. Jasher tried to sit up, but several soldiers kept him down.
Jonathan stood near Amon and Tavor, searching the faces of every man nearby, intent on detecting any other imminent attacks. He still held his sword high in the air, ready to strike any foe. Many of the men around him stared up at his hand, their expressions confused. Tavor nudged him and pointed to the blade. Jonathan’s heart skipped a beat when he realized the Gideonite soldiers had now seen the Sword of Daniel. Too late now, he thought.
He whispered his thanks to Tavor, then stooped to the ground, removed the bow and quiver from his back, and retrieved the piece of lamb’s wool from the belt pouch that held his small glow-stone. After vigorously rubbing the entire blade for a minute, he did the same to the small stone, jammed it into the pommel, tucked away the wool, and snatched up his items.
Jonathan lifted the blade skyward. A pale blue glow that continued to brighten gently rested on the scene. In the near dark, the light of the large glow-stone sword was of great benefit to those who worked feverishly to save Jasher’s life. Within moments, the sword nearly blazed like the suns. Jonathan ignored the few Gideonites who gaped at it.
Amon barked orders to the troops. Runners were sent with all speed to the main body of Jasher’s army, secreted around the bend of the road. Other soldiers prepared a stretcher, on which the general was laid. Several of the captured Gideonites shared information about their camp and directed Captain Mehida to Izri’s tent. There, Mehida’s men found bedding, unlit torches, and some glow-stone lanterns. They lit up torches and charged lanterns, then passed them down a line so the pathway to the tent was easier to see.
Jonathan, Pekah, and Eli followed the litter bearers, encouraging Jasher to stay awake and talk to them. They arrived at the tent to find the inside fully ablaze from the many lanterns and torches held by the soldiers. Several men carefully transferred the general from the stretcher to the more comfortable bedding at the center of the tent.
“I am trained in healing,” a soldier hollered, pushing his way through the crowd.
The healer arrived at Jasher’s side, paused briefly, then checked the wounds.
Looking on, Jonathan could see that Jasher’s skin was pale as moons-light. His breathing strained, he drifted in and out of consciousness. His body trembled intermittently from shock.
The healer placed a few nearby blankets over Jasher to keep him warm. Only the general’s right leg and left side remained uncovered so the wounds could be treated. Jasher still bled through his temporary bandages, and those attending his wounds could barely keep up with making more cloth strips. The healer ordered the assisting soldiers to apply more pressure, then searched the crowd.
“Where is Captain Amon?” he asked.
Amon stepped up from the back a
nd identified himself.
“My name is Serug. I need to speak to you alone.”
Amon barked orders that the tent was to be cleared except for those attending the general or holding lights. Jonathan paused and wondered if the captain meant for him to leave with the others. He caught Amon’s gaze, and the captain motioned for him to stay.
Jasher’s weak voice was heard, but not understood right away. Amon went to his side, and Jasher repeated his request.
“I want to speak . . . with Pekah. His companions should stay. Where . . . is Abigail?” The wheezing general coughed, and Serug wiped blood from his lips, then called for a small sip of water to be provided for Jasher’s comfort.
Abigail burst into the tent with an escort. She rushed to Jasher’s side and shook her head, saying, “No, no, no, no!” Tears poured down her cheeks as she took Jasher’s right hand in hers.
Managing a smile, Jasher gazed lovingly upon his distraught wife. His shoulders shook with another cough. Turning white, he winced. His eyes fluttered shut, but then opened wide.
“Amon?” Jasher called out.
Amon leaned down. “Yes, sir?”
“I did not know it . . . before tonight . . .” he paused to cough, then continued. “Sodi . . . part of Rezon’s covenant. Izri, too.” The general coughed again, but it was shallow and labored. “There may be others. Find them.”
“We will. I promise,” Amon replied.
“Pekah?”
Pekah moved up to where Jasher lay. “Yes, General?”
“Amon . . . is my most loyal friend. I can always . . .”
Jasher shook. The veil of death seemed to be drawing over him. But once again, he became very alert.
“I trust him like none other. But he is married and can’t help me. You are not. I trust you.”
