by Daron Fraley
“I’m glad you did,” Eli said as he glanced back toward the camp. Jonathan also leaned to see the dim outline of Pekah sitting by the fire.
Jonathan ended his account by describing the long day in their secret cave. The two of them laughed a little as they reminisced together about the many items they had hidden there long ago as boys. But again their moods became somber, and they both grew quiet as their gazes rested on the moons-lit ground.
Eli lifted his head and pointed at the campfire. “What are we going to do with him?”
“I don’t know. He seems to have a good heart. If we can convince him to join the side of peace, he may be able to soften the hearts of others. What do you think?”
“You may be right. Although we all expected this war, I would very much prefer that it end quickly, and he may be able to help.”
Jonathan tapped his sword pommel with his hand, anxious to do whatever was necessary to stop Gideon. Numerous possible outcomes crossed his mind in mere seconds, but then he threw a startled expression in Eli’s direction.
“What has become of your sister?” Jonathan asked. “Last I knew, Rachel had been in Saron. Did she make it home safely?”
Eli’s jaw stiffened with anger. He shook his head, and Jonathan instantly felt ill.
“But I don’t know for sure,” Eli added, his tone grave. “To my knowledge, Rachel was still at market with the family steward, selling our spring lambs, when Saron was surprised by the Gideonites. If she left early enough, she might have made it home to Ramathaim before they attacked. I just fear she did not. When we left the city, we did not see anyone coming north from Hasor. She should have been back by that time.”
Jonathan saw deep emotion like a kindled fire burning in Eli’s eyes. “If she did not make it out of Saron, where do you think she is?”
“She may be at Ain. Our scouts confirmed there was a significant movement of people from Saron towards Ain the day before yesterday. They reported to have seen several columns of prisoner escorts. But then again, she may have been… the Gideonites…” Eli shuddered.
At Eli’s unspoken suggestion, Jonathan remembered the dishonorable things some Gideonite captains had done with female prisoners in the past. He could not bring himself even to complete the thought. Jonathan fought the images away and mustered his courage.
“Eli, don’t fear the worst. Let us have faith she has been protected.”
Eli grumbled. “I suppose you’re right. But you know as well as I do, the Gideonites do not always treat women with honor or respect. Some of them have forgotten the ways taught by Father Noah and treat women as if they were mere property.”
Jonathan bristled at the thought. His father Samuel had taught him to honor women as God’s finest creation, and that attitude prevailed amongst his own people. Jonathan loved Rachel dearly, and the thought of Gideonite soldiers harming her made his blood boil. Rachel had been promised to him, and even though she was not yet his lawful wife, Jonathan felt protective of her.
“Well,” Jonathan spat out, “at least we’re traveling in the right direction. I think we can easily reach Ain within two days. It’s my intention to find out what’s going on in that fair city.”
Eli patted Jonathan on the arm. “I feel the same way, my brother. If she’s there, we will find her.”
The two friends made their way back to the campfire and found Pekah sharpening the dagger he had taken from the Gideonite captain. He glanced up as they approached, but then returned to his work. As Jonathan and Eli removed their weapons and found themselves seats near the fire, Pekah stopped his sharpening and sheathed the dagger.
“Nate, can you tell me about the sword you carry? I have never seen anything like it.”
It seemed to be a harmless question. Jonathan took up the sword that lay next to him on the ground, pulled it from the sheath, and turned it in his hands, causing reflections from the campfire to bounce above them in the trees. Pekah gaped in wonder at the lights and leaned forward to see the narrow, thin, faceted blade.
“It is merely a glow-stone, albeit a special one,” Jonathan said. “This nearly perfect crystal was found by my grandfather in the mines near Hasor, crafted into a sword, and presented as a gift to my father.”
Jonathan stopped short of telling the whole story. To do so would reveal his identity. The Sword of Daniel had actually been given to his father as a coronation gift on the same day Samuel married. He chose to keep those facts to himself.
“How was it made?” Pekah said.
“The crystal is the longest one ever found in the Hasor mines. I don’t think there has ever been another like it. My father told me the raw stone was without flaw except at the ends. The swordsmith who made the weapon could only cut or groove it near the blemishes in the stone, and so he removed one flaw by striking it from the end of the crystal, thus producing the faceted tip. He grooved out the flaw at the opposite end with special tools made from other stones. After he added the brass cross-guard, he used some type of silver alloy to form the hilt and pommel, all of which he anchored to the grooved area of the crystal. I added the leather strapping around the hilt to make the sword easier to control.
“The sword-smith also left the pommel hollow to accommodate a small glow-stone for lighting purposes,” Jonathan added as he took the stone from his belt pouch and rubbed it vigorously to charge it. He snapped it into place, and they all watched as the entire sword took on a soft, blue glow.
Pekah’s brow furrowed. “How is it that the blade does not break? Any crystal, when struck with the amount of force which you used today against our swords, should shatter, no matter how perfect it is.”
Jonathan smiled. He leaned forward, locking gazes with Pekah, and stated with a wry smile, “I don’t know.”
The answer was honest, but not complete. Although Jonathan didn’t understand how the blade remained whole, he did suspect why. Only a few close friends outside of his immediate family knew that his grandfather had been led to the location of the raw crystal by a dream of the night-a dream in which Father Noah himself had delivered a message of promise. Much like The Thorn, Noah promised that a sword crafted from the unique crystal would be claimed by the Holy One at His coming-a symbol of His kingship, a sword that shone like the blue fire of sister suns, a sword of light.
The Gideonites all knew about the scepter because their father, Gideon, was there when it was fashioned. But none knew about the sword. And under the present circumstances, Jonathan did not feel impressed to share the story of the dream with Pekah, or the prophecy given to his grandfather. After all, the Gideonites already sought the scepter.
Jonathan hadn’t intended to be so mysterious. But he almost chuckled as he noticed Eli thoroughly enjoying the puzzled frown on Pekah’s face. Eli clasped his large hands behind his head and leaned back against a log, grinning widely.
Fortunately, Pekah asked no more questions. The conversation lagged, and Pekah again grew quiet. Ready to change the subject, Jonathan removed the small stone from the pommel, sheathed the sword, and suggested that they discuss their plans for the next day. Eli agreed.
“Tomorrow is the Sabbath,” Jonathan began. “I would rather not travel on the Sabbath. We’ll need our rest for the days ahead, and so I plan to stay here through the daylight hours of tomorrow. We can leave before dusk in the evening, and then travel under cover of darkness with the face of the moons as far as we can.”
“It’s true,” added Eli. “Tomorrow will be the crossing of the sisters, and under their face, travel will be easy enough, if the weather holds.”
“But where will we be going?” Pekah interjected, staring at Jonathan.
“We believe a large body of prisoners was taken from Hasor,” Jonathan said. “It’s possible they’re traveling toward Ain by way of Saron. If so, it’s my intention to find them and free them, if I can.”
Jonathan watched Pekah’s fire-lit face for a reaction. With the news Jonathan had received from Eli, he knew Pekah was aware of the p
risoners taken at Hasor, and he wanted to see how this Gideonite felt about their plan to find them. Pekah’s countenance indeed had changed, but Jonathan could not tell if fear or some other emotion affected the Gideonite.
Sensing Pekah’s great unrest, he spoke with soft tones. “I want you to know, I have accepted your oath to me. You swore you will follow me and serve me until the end of your life. I will do all I can to ensure your life will be long, and that you will be happy, if you seek happiness.”
“Pekah,” Eli said. “Nate is a man of honor. His promise will be kept.”
“Thank you, Eli,” Jonathan said.
Pekah merely blinked as he stared into the campfire embers.
Still curious as to what Pekah’s thoughts were, Jonathan spoke again. “Can you tell me what you know about the fall of Hasor?”
Pekah remained silent. He fiddled with his boot straps as he continued to stare into the coals. Jonathan did not press him, but waited on his answer with hope that he would choose to talk about it. He looked towards the fire himself, wishing he could in some way make this awkward discussion about their plans bearable for both of them.
After a short time, Pekah spoke in a low voice. “I’ve seen things I do not wish to remember.”
Eli cleared his throat, but did not comment.
Jonathan let out a soft sigh. He said a silent prayer for help with their conversation, remaining calm and attentive until the impression came with words to fill his mouth.
“Pekah, there is One who can heal all things. Do you know of Whom I speak?”
Pekah nodded.
“No matter what has happened in your life, no matter what things you saw at Hasor, no matter what troubles you, if you turn to the Great King…” Jonathan’s voice became softer. “Turn to Him with all your heart, and pour your soul out to Him in prayer, even if it is by simply expressing the thoughts and the desires which are in your heart. He will hear you. He is the Great Healer, and He can remove many burdens.”
Immense hope, and a love for the young Gideonite man, started to fill Jonathan’s heart. He also noticed that he had been particularly impressed to use the title of “Great King,” but didn’t know why. Pekah still did not reply. His eyes glistened, and he turned from the fire to stare out into the darkness of the trees near the stream.
Jonathan did not feel inclined to talk further, and so after some awkward silence, he suggested they all get some rest. Now past midnight, morning would be upon them before they would want it to be. Eli asked if they should have a constant watch through the night, but Jonathan felt that with the cover of the thorny grove, and the sound of the stream behind them, they would pass the night without being discovered.
None of them had bed rolls, so they fashioned small pillows from sacks and cloaks. By this time, most of the flame was low and red. Eli placed the large log onto the fire to keep it burning.
Jonathan and Eli both knelt on the ground with bowed heads. They invited Pekah to join them in prayer, but he declined. After an expression of gratitude for a clear summer night with no rain, both men wished Pekah a good night’s sleep before drifting off.
Pekah watched them doze as he lay there, feeling depressed and out of place with these two men. He gazed up at the stars, not focusing on anything in particular. He tried to relax, but the events of the previous three days kept crossing his mind. Closing his eyes, he tried to sleep, but sleep would not come. The hard ground made him uncomfortable, and the more he tried to rest, the worse he felt. He groaned and realized much of the discomfort he felt was because of the guilt in his heart. He wished he had never enlisted in the emperor’s army. He wished he had never been in Hasor. He almost wished he were dead.
Chapter 8
Balm
The night continued to cool, making Pekah wish for a blanket. Sounds were all around him-the chirping of forest crickets, the buzzing of other unseen insects, even the hoot of an owl off in the distance. He even noticed the low gulping noise of a frog somewhere near the constant gurgle of the stream. These temporary distractions were soon lost to his senses, becoming nothing more than droning background noise as he continued to sink deeper into his depression. Over and over again, memories and images of the siege at Hasor played through his mind. Pekah remembered the dripping rain and damp fields of waist-high grain he had pushed through when his contingent rushed up to the southern garden gates. He could hear the creak and boom of the gates falling, and the pounding feet of charging soldiers upon the streets of the village.
His chest tightened with disgust as he remembered seeing some of the unarmed villagers murdered by his fellow soldiers when they should have been taken prisoner instead. He saw a young boy, not even ten years of age, running down the street away from the invading army, but a Gideonite archer’s arrow had knocked him to the ground before he could escape. The screams of women and children filled his mind.
He also recalled the purported reasons why the army had been sent there, and the dubious mission his detachment had been sent to do. Memories of atrocities committed by his fellow soldiers offended his sensibilities. He squeezed his eyes closed, but he could not shut out the horror.
Pekah’s guilt intensified to the point that he began to feel physical pain, and he groaned under the weight of it. His chest ached. He rolled from side to side, trying to shake the horrible darkness settling over him. As he analyzed the events of the battle, he severely chastised himself at each identified moment where a different outcome would have been possible. Perhaps he could have stopped some of the needless death and destruction that had taken place. But in all of his painful memories, his mind kept stopping at one particular place in time, a moment that disturbed him more than anything else. Pekah remembered the smell of blood as he shuffled past the body of the judge in the Council Hall of Hasor.
An unexpected connection then materialized in his thoughts. Intense disgust poured down upon him like a breaking tidal wave. Pekah recalled loosening the leather belt of the dead captain, sliding the gilded dagger sheath off the end of the belt to remove it, and placing the weapon on his own belt just before they covered the body of Captain Sachar with branches and brush. Sachar’s dagger. A weapon used for murder. The same one which he had sharpened by the campfire.
His eyes opened in alarm, and his hand went instinctively to his side. There he felt the handle: smooth, hard, cold. Revulsion filled him, and he sat up with a start. He stripped the weapon from his waist, throwing it to the ground before him.
There it is.
Pekah frowned at it with extreme distaste.
I have been sharpening a murder weapon.
The scene of blood roiled in his mind.
Why did I ever touch the vile blade?
The detachment’s orders were very specific. Capture the judge. Bring him alive to the emperor. But Sachar had not followed those orders. In anger, Captain Sachar had pulled his dagger from his belt, and like a coward, threw it into the back of the defenseless old man. Pekah remembered protesting, but the deed had already been done. There had been no honor in Sachar’s actions.
He stared at the sheathed dagger in the dirt.
What ever possessed me to touch the thing?
Pekah was no murderer. He had no desire to use the tool of a murderer. As he thought about those ultimately responsible for the death of the judge and king of the Danielites, he questioned his own political leanings. Pekah had felt for a long time that the three tribes should be united as one people. Like many among his kindred, he also felt the Gideonite leaders were the best choice to rule over the Three Brothers. These feelings had provided justification for going to battle.
Were not the Danielites a rebellious and wicked people? Were they not in need of strong leadership? From his youth, he had been taught that the Danielite and Uzzahite peoples were lazy, weak, and prone to hostility towards Gideon. Manasseh, the Gideonite emperor, had warned the people that if they did not attack first, the Danielites and Uzzahites would attack them.
His people
were wrong! By Pekah’s impressions, the villagers of Hasor were far from lazy. The city was clean, organized, and beautiful. And from what he could tell when entering the city, the people there were only defending their homes, not preparing to attack the Gideonites.
Was the emperor misinformed by his generals? Or was the emperor simply devious? The more Pekah thought about it, the more he could see that what he had been told could not be true. The emperor. His generals. His captains. They had willfully lied.
This realization sickened him. Oh, how naive he had been. So eager to do something great-to prove himself in battle-he had overlooked the great cost of their campaign. Pekah mentally kicked himself again and told himself he should have known better.
Sitting in the dim flicker of a slow fire, he wondered what he could do to make amends for the great injustice that had been done at Hasor. The pain he felt needed to be expressed, but Pekah didn’t know if Nate would accept an apology on behalf of his people. His thoughts rallied around this idea, however, and he decided to offer a plea for forgiveness at morning’s first light.
Feeling the need to rid himself of Captain Sachar’s dagger, Pekah pinched the pommel between a single finger and his thumb, and then stood. He tiptoed over toward Nate, stooped, then dropped the sheathed dagger into the dirt within Nate’s reach. Nate stirred. Pekah stepped toward his own patch of ground and makeshift pillow and watched, as with a dazed expression upon his face, Nate sat up briefly to look around, but then lay down again and rolled onto his side.
Pekah settled back onto his hard bed and surveyed the stars. “In the morning, I will tell Nate what happened,” he encouraged himself in an audible whisper. For a long time, he rehearsed in his mind how he would tell the story of the fall of Hasor. Sleep still did not come. He sat up again by the fire, and broke up small twigs. One by one he tossed the pieces into the coals. Each one caught fire, glowed, and turned to ash.
In this manner, Pekah passed the entire night, anguishing over the horrible things he had witnessed in Hasor. As the night advanced, the sister moons traced their way across the heavens. Sienna would soon catch her companions. Several times he noted their progress across the stars. Although tired, Pekah still felt restless.
