by Daron Fraley
They both helped Jonathan to load his shoulder sack.
“Take care, brother,” Eli said, hugging Jonathan tight.
“I will.” Jonathan let go of Eli and extended a hand to Pekah. “If I have learned nothing else in the last few days, your presence here has been quite providential. I’m convinced you will succeed. You must.”
“We’ll be back soon,” Pekah promised, not knowing what else to say.
“Eli…” Jonathan said with some emotion. “Please find Rachel and the other prisoners. Perhaps the emperor will be willing to trade the scepter for their release.”
“I hope so. But I wish there was another way. What if we never see The Thorn again?”
“The promises are sure, my brother. Somehow, it will find its way back into our hands. Certainly the lives of our people are worth more than the glass rod, are they not?”
Eli let out a slow breath. “Yes. You’re right. I certainly didn’t mean that Rachel’s life doesn’t matter. May the Holy One forgive us for putting it into Manasseh’s hands.”
“The One Who Would Suffer will someday claim the scepter as promised,” Jonathan said.
“I know He will,” Eli agreed.
Jonathan put both hands on the back of his neck, then let them fall as he turned his head. He suddenly had a strange look in his eyes.
“What is it?” Pekah prompted.
Jonathan nodded as he spoke. “I just realized. It may be a good thing to keep them apart for a while.”
“Them?”
“I didn’t tell you before, but there is a tradition passed down in my family-a prophecy. The Thorn will be claimed by the Holy One when He comes, a symbol of His authority as King. But it will not be the only item claimed. My sword, the sword of Daniel, will become His sword. It just occurred to me it may be a good idea to keep the two items apart for a while, even if we have to trade the scepter for prisoners. Does that make sense?”
Pekah scratched his head. “Yes. I think it does. If the scepter is not with you, the sword will most likely be overlooked.”
“Precisely.” Jonathan leaned away, then turned back to Pekah, his gaze earnest. “I need to tell you… besides Eli’s family, a few select friends of my father’s, and myself, nobody else on Gan knows that the sword I carry shares the same promise as The Thorn. And you are the first Gideonite to possess that information. Guard it well.”
“It shall never leave my lips.”
“Then may The One Who Would Suffer protect you with His power.”
Pekah swallowed. “Thank you.”
The three of them again exchanged embraces. With a wave, Jonathan left the road and climbed toward the rocky heights. Pekah and Eli watched him leave. Once he disappeared behind an outcropping, they each took a halter and led the horses with their trailing wagon down the gentle, winding switchbacks of the road to Ain.
Chapter 12
Ain
Pekah nearly became dizzy as they wound their way back and forth down the switchbacks, but they soon found themselves approaching the farmland where small stone and wood homes were interspersed among groomed gardens, orchards, and grain fields. An abnormal stillness had settled over the area. He guessed his fellow Gideonites had rounded up all the inhabitants of the outskirts of Ain and taken them into the city itself, or elsewhere entirely, as there was very little sign of life apart from the occasional penned goat, cow, or chicken.
As they continued to lead their horses down the dirt road between the fields, it became apparent that several days had passed since the animals had been tended. Some of them showed signs of illness. Other farms devoid of livestock suggested raids by the invading army to feed both troops and prisoners. Most of the homes seemed to be undamaged, but as they advanced, they noticed several homesteads had been reduced to piles of charred rubble. The smoky smell of ash stung their noses.
Most disturbing were the fresh mounds of dirt, some as long as a man, others as small as a child. Pekah guessed that the army forced survivors to bury their dead before marching them away in bonds. Imagining the event caused a lump to rise in his throat. The dreary scene gnawed at his soul, reminding him of similar feelings experienced two nights previous-feelings of regret, of sorrow, of pain. He shook his head in an attempt to dislodge the memory.
Eli waved a hand in front of his face. “Pekah?”
“Oh. Sorry, I was just thinking.”
“That’s fine. I was, too. In fact, I was thinking about Jonathan. You know, Pekah, Jonathan doesn’t normally share his feelings.”
Pekah glanced over at Eli, glad for the diversion from the dark, wispy images of Hasor.
“He’s a private man, and has few friends. I’ve marveled as I have watched him be so open with you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, he usually stays to himself. You may have noticed, he’s deliberate in his conversation. He feels things very deeply. Because of that, he has difficulty sharing with people, and therefore, doesn’t take the time to create friendships. Does that make sense?”
“I suppose so.”
Both men were silent for a few minutes. The rhythmic crunch of the road under the horses’ hooves thumped like the music of a hand drum. It lulled the men into a slow, synchronized march. Pekah considered Eli’s comments, but his description of Jonathan didn’t seem to fit.
“I didn’t notice. He seems friendly enough to me.”
“You’re right. Apart from the obvious sorrow he feels over his father, Jonathan has been talkative, but he hasn’t always been that way. Several years ago, his mother passed away in a tragic accident. Since then, he has stayed pretty much within the circles of family and close friends. In fact, I cannot recall the last time he engaged in any significant conversation with a person he has not known for years.”
“What happened to his mother? Or is that too private to ask?”
“No, it’s not private.” Eli paused. “One year at the end of harvest time, Jonathan’s father was laid up for a few days with an injured ankle. Jonathan and his mother were plowing a field in preparation for winter. They stopped at the end of a furrow to rest the horse. That particular animal had always been a bit skittish, so Jonathan held the reins, and his mother held the halter. Something spooked the horse, and it reared. Jonathan lost his footing in the soft furrow, and dropped one rein as he went down. This caused the horse to pull toward his mother. She fell under the animal and never woke up.”
Troubled, Pekah put a fist over his mouth, his head bowing toward the ground. He looked back up at Eli. “I’m very sorry to hear it. Jonathan must feel terrible.”
“Jonathan blames himself, or at least he used to. Do you understand why I am surprised at his behavior?”
“I think so.” Pekah recalled the manner in which Jonathan had forgiven him near the stream-sincere, gentle, and reassuring. Not a hint of desired retribution. Pekah wondered if Jonathan’s struggle to forgive himself had taught him compassion for others. “Thank you for telling me, Eli. I appreciate being able to get to know him a little better.”
“You’re welcome. I doubt he would have told you that on his own, but I thought it was important to share. He’s a good man, and I think he could use another trusted friend.”
Pekah thought of his own family. A father he never knew. A mother he missed. No siblings. He sighed. “I could use a good friend, too.”
Eli smiled.
In the distance they could now make out the eastern gate of the city, including the banners of Gideon snapping in the evening breeze. Soldiers milled about near the wall, keeping watch. Pekah and Eli took the opportunity to exchange well-wishes. Pekah steeled himself against the possibility of being taken prisoner or failing in his mission. Their march toward the city wall remained deliberate and sure.
“I’ve been thinking,” Pekah said. “When we get to the city, the Gideonites may not like the fact that we’re traveling together, and you’re not in bonds.”
Eli put out his hands, ready to be taken prisoner.
>
Pekah chuckled. “We’re not doing that again! I just wondered if you have any idea what to say to the guards.”
“Say as little as possible, I suppose. We should demand audience with Manasseh. Anything else might get us into a whole lot of trouble. What do you think?”
Pekah thought for a minute. “I agree.” Although he was still nervous, this straight-forward plan strengthened his resolve. They walked the rest of the way in silence.
“What is your business here?” came a bellow from the gate-tower once they were within earshot of the city entrance.
Pekah did not answer, but raised his arm in greeting, and Eli bowed his head low. A few of the soldiers outside the gate readied themselves to meet them, drawing weapons. Pekah waved again as they approached, making sure his raven-emblazoned breastplate was plainly visible. One of the Gideonites waved back in acknowledgment, but then dropped his arm quickly.
As they drew up to the rise in the road which led to the wall, several of the soldiers, with weapons in hand, came to inspect the wagon and the two men. The largest soldier among them, who seemed to be in charge although he did not wear any distinguishing uniform, stomped up to Pekah and threw a sour expression of displeasure in Eli’s direction.
“What is your name, soldier, and why are you with this man of Uzzah?” he spat out, a drop of spittle landing on his chin.
“I am Pekah, and this is Eli. We have traveled far with a gift of supplies for the emperor and news of the war in the north.” Pekah paused, and then added, “We also bring important news from Captain Sachar and must see the emperor at once!”
The large Gideonite scratched his left forearm with the pommel of his short sword, hesitated a few seconds, but then waved them onward. “Open the gate!” he hollered, loud enough to startle the horses.
The gates complained as they swung inward, revealing a cobbled pavement leading into the city. Pekah was motioned to enter, and he shot a nervous glance at Eli as they both tugged on the horse halters to pull their load forward. The Gideonite leader assigned four men to escort the wagon. Several of the soldiers guarding the gates whispered to each other as the group of men crossed under the archway.
Once they had passed the posts, the doors were again secured behind them, and the four escorts led the way into the city. They passed tents in the entry court and then followed a well-worn cobbled passage flanked by stone and brick buildings, many of them outfitted with canvas awnings hanging over the two-lane street. The shops and businesses they passed were unattended, many showing evidence of looting. Several of the doors were torn from their hinges, and a few of the buildings were being used as makeshift barracks by armed Gideonite men. The sounds of the horses’ hooves echoing between the buildings grabbed their attention, but Pekah did not acknowledge the onlookers. Eli was as silent as a rock.
The short street emptied into a small round courtyard, punctuated by a beautifully carved stone fountain that depicted an overflowing flower basket, with four spouts arcing into a pool of clear water. A spillway from the pool filled a shallow, covered aqueduct, which ran down the side of the fountain to become part of the road before disappearing somewhere behind the walls of a neighboring building. The escorting soldiers allowed a few moments for Pekah and Eli to drink, and then hurried them on again, out of the court and into the confines of another narrow street.
This street was much like the first except for the fact that the buildings here were all two-story. It also emptied into another round courtyard, graced by yet another fountain. Not as elaborate as the last, the sight of the fountain did not hold Pekah’s attention. Worried about what he might say to the emperor, his beating heart thumped in his chest, distracting him from appreciating the picturesque balconies, exquisite iron railings, and vibrant flower pots above him. He trudged onward.
When they broke free of the road and entered into the central plaza of Ain, Pekah could see the sharp edges of the eastern mountains in the distance, slicing Aqua and Azure as they drooped ever lower. Soon the colors of dusk would burn lines across the sky. Pekah was bothered by the lateness of the day. He hoped they would still be able to deliver their message and avoid staying the night in Ain.
Noticing that shadows from the buildings obscured some details of the stone walls surrounding the immense court, he traced their edges to the well-lit center of the city plaza. There sat another wide and impressive sculptured fountain. The awesome sight of it nearly took his breath away.
A huge granite bowl rested more than two stories high upon three separate pedestal columns, whose footings dipped into a perfectly round, raised pool. Flanking all sides of the splashing pool were statues of lions. They stared outward as if guarding the precious water, and their polished manes glistened in the mist produced by the fountain’s clear curtains. Underground aqueducts on opposing sides of the lower pool took the spring water to various parts of the city, and the stone cobbles above them betrayed their presence with a gentle rise. Near the northern edge of the plaza, next to the spot where one of the aqueducts disappeared behind a brick and mortar wall, Pekah could see remnants of the original landscape. There was still a five-foot rock outcropping that the builders of the city had chosen to pave and build around, rather than remove.
Near the rock stood a most peculiar wooden structure surrounded by several canvas tents. About nine feet tall, fifty feet long, and forty feet wide, the building was made of stained wood panels fastened together by slotted beams. These beams were stained green, connected at the top to cross-members that in turn were fitted with other wood panels, forming a pitched roof. The structure was locked together at various joints by polished brass pegs, and their accent against the richly stained panels attested not only to the fact that this structure was portable, but that it belonged to someone of wealth.
As they continued to walk, Pekah spied a flag fluttering in the late evening breeze near one end of the building, and he gulped. It was the banner of Manasseh. Sewn onto the flapping cloth was a more detailed version of Aqua and Azure, an image pressed into all Gideonite solars. With the intended goal of their mission now imminent, he suddenly had the urge to flee. He looked at Eli, whose jaw was set, his eyes wary.
Pekah wanted to express his anxiety to Eli, even if he had to whisper, but the escorting soldiers stopped and held them back with an upturned hand. One of them walked toward the tents.
While they waited, Pekah observed the other soldiers who milled about the plaza, and saw some of them leaving in groups toward the west side of the city. Because of the constant activity on that road, he suspected prisoners were being held in that area.
The soldier returned from the tent almost as quickly as he had left, and said, “I have spoken to the general, but he forbids you to see the emperor today. He has arranged for a tent to be prepared. The emperor will see you in the morning, in his stateroom.”
Orders were given, and the other Gideonite escorts left with the wagon and horses.
“Follow me,” the soldier then commanded in a tone that conveyed his impatience.
They marched briskly toward the group of tents, passed several, and arrived at a small one next to a wall. The tent was in the process of being vacated by two unhappy captains, gathering their things in haste. Once the captains finished and left, the Gideonite guide curtly dismissed Pekah and Eli for the evening.
“A meal will arrive shortly. A watch will be posted. Do not leave your quarters.”
Pekah pushed through the entrance folds, and Eli ducked to enter. Once inside, they saw their assigned barracks had been supplied with canvas folding cots, both with bedrolls and pillows, and a glow-stone lantern sitting on a tiny portable table.
Even though they would not be able to deliver their message until morning, Pekah felt an immense burden lifted from him just to be away from the other soldiers. Greatly relieved they had not been imprisoned, he breathed easier. Eager to sit down, both men unbuckled the swords about their waists.
“We weren’t deprived of our weapons-do y
ou have any idea why?” Eli asked.
“I believe it’s because I was in uniform,” Pekah said. “It would be improper for them to remove my weapons without some order to do so.”
Eli shrugged and scratched his scruffy red beard, shaking some of the travel dust of the day from it.
Pekah grinned, then teased, “Apparently, they let you keep yours because you didn’t scare them, either.”
Eli chuckled. Both men removed quivers, bows, boot knives, swords, and daggers, placing all the weapons at the ends of their separate beds. Eli laid his staff next to his cot. Both men shook the pillows and situated their bedding. About this time, the same Gideonite soldier entered the tent with a tray containing two bowls of hot stew and some bread crusts. He set it down on the table and took a wineskin from his shoulder. Without a word, he exited the tent and pulled the flaps closed. Pekah could see by the dim shadows cast on the tent wall that two guards were posted near the entrance.
“A very social fellow,” Eli observed in a mocking tone.
Using the cots for benches, they sat down to the first hot meal they’d had in many days. Eli offered a simple prayer of thanks, after which they picked up the bowls. They had been given no eating utensils, so they used the crusts of bread to sop up the gravy juices, and then tilted the bowls to eat the meat and vegetables left behind. Once they finished, they took turns drinking from the skin, after wiping the crumbs from their faces with their sleeves. Eli belched loudly and apologized, but Pekah didn’t mind.
“I wonder if Jonathan will get any sleep tonight. Cots are certainly better than rocks,” Eli said, pointing down at his bed.
“As long as a Gideonite patrol doesn’t find him, he’ll be fine, I’m sure.”
“Well, I don’t plan on being bothered by your Gideonite friends tonight. I have no intention of leaving the tent.”
“Nor I. My bones are weary. Sleep is all I want right now.”
