by Daron Fraley
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 and 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.”
Pekah didn’t seem to have any idea what the general was trying to say. He looked quizzically at Amon, at Eli, and then at Tavor who were all nearby, but they could not explain. Pekah cast his questioning gaze toward Jonathan. All Jonathan could do was shake his head and shrug.
With great effort, Jasher tried to lift his head to see Abigail. A soldier rolled a spare blanket and placed it behind the general’s neck.
Tears welled up in Jasher’s eyes. “My only love… my dear Abigail.”
Abigail nearly sobbed. She clung to his shoulder.
“Pekah, give me your hand,” Jasher choked out.
Pekah slowly brought his hand near that of the general. Jasher reached for it and drew Pekah closer. The general then placed Abigail’s palm in Pekah’s. At first, Pekah recoiled, but Jasher’s grip tightened. Pekah relaxed. He did not move, and neither did Abigail.
“Abigail. Marry this man. He is good. He will care for you as I would.”
Jasher coughed again, and his eyes began to close. Abigail wept openly now, and she started to pull away from Pekah, but Jasher’s eyes opened. He squeezed her hand into Pekah’s again.
“I love you… my dear, sweet Abigail.”
With that final declaration, Jasher’s breath sighed out of him.
Abigail fell forward, burying her face in Jasher’s arm. There she stayed for many minutes, grieving. With Pekah’s hand released, he stepped back, looking bewildered. Jonathan sheathed his sword and stepped forward to grasp the Gideonite’s shoulder, giving him support. Pekah stared at the dead general and hardly seemed to notice.
Jonathan let go. Abigail sobbed into her husband’s neck, her frail frame shaking uncontrollably. Jonathan’s chest tightened, the sorrowful scene causing him to gulp as he fought away tears. He turned back to his Gideonite friend and saw that the young soldier appeared to be overcome with emotion, his head low.
Pekah wept.
Chapter 27
Abigail
The smell of freshly turned soil filled Abigail’s nostrils as she stood at the gravesite, clinging to Rachel’s arm for support. Everything around her appeared drab, washed out by the moons-light falling from above. The scrapes and thumps of a shovel endlessly throwing dirt into a hillside depression that was now nearly full, and the chirp of a single cricket hiding somewhere in the trees nearby, were the only sounds disturbing the night air. Standing on the gentle rise where Jasher’s body had been laid to rest, Abigail was forlorn, affected by every detail of the dismal place.
She trembled with each vibration of the ground as the gravesite grew before her- becoming a haunting mound of dark memories. Her head throbbing from the incessant pounding of the thrown dirt, she tried to watch the soldiers who wielded the tools, but found it nearly impossible to make out their faces. At last the grave was filled, and the soldiers rested, leaning on the shovels.
Fresh tears welled in her eyes and mixed with the reflections from the moons above. Her bleary vision prevented her from seeing anybody but those who stood closest to her-Rachel, Eli, Jonathan, Amon, Tavor, and Pekah. In every face, she recognized deep concern. She wiped her eyes with her sleeves, grateful for her friends’ sil
ent support.
One by one, every person around the grave approached her, offering their sympathy. She listened to each of them, but remembered none of their words. After they had all come to her, they stood quietly nearby, waiting for her to say her goodbyes. With yearning for the husband she had lost, she fell to her knees and leaned into the mound, her hands clawing at the soil.
Abigail could feel Rachel kneeling by her, patting her back, rubbing her shoulder. The attention only made her sob harder. Her strength gone, she collapsed into the dirt. The men around her whispered, and she felt herself be lifted. Cradled in Eli’s arms, she looked up into his moist eyes. He only stared forward and carried her down the hill without a word.
Overwhelmed, Abigail buried her face in his shoulder.
Sitting on the back steps of the Council Hall, Abigail propped her chin up, an elbow on her knee. Her mind numb, she watched as the rising sister suns caused scattered clouds above the hills west of Hasor to blush. Nearby, one hundred and fifty of General Amon’s company stirred in the courtyards of Hasor, their tents pitched close to the hall. After getting some much-needed rest, Abigail felt better, but solemn. The first rays of daylight fell upon the ground in front of her. Rachel, who had shared her guest room on the upper floors of the palace, sat beside her, watching the breaking morning lights.
“You should eat something, Abigail,” Rachel kindly suggested, a hand on Abigail’s arm.
“I do feel better this morning. I think I will.”
Rachel appeared to be relieved. “That would be good. You’ll need strength today if you wish to ride with us.”
Abigail felt foggy, even exhausted. She recalled being carried into the village the night before. Although the bed in the palace had been comfortable, she remembered she had felt cold. She shook her head. “It seems like a dream, Rachel,” she muttered. She pulled her knees up to her chest and held them.
Rachel’s gaze fell, and she put a hand on Abigail’s crossed arms. She gave Abigail a squeeze, but said nothing.
Abigail appreciated the unspoken show of support. She yearned for Rachel’s friendship, and felt strength flow into her from Rachel’s touch. But the grief she felt was overwhelming. She sighed and stood up to look across the way toward beautiful stone houses, all in neat lines and close together. She could see that several of the homes had been re-inhabited, as smoke rose from their chimneys.
Bordering the first row of houses ran a chest-high stone fence, north to south, ending at the small village courtyard before the Council Hall. Soldiers dismantled tents in the court, while others packed everything up. Horses were also being readied. The noise of the scene intensified.
“Rachel…”
“Yes?” Rachel said, standing.
“Thank you for caring for me last night.”
“You are most welcome.”
“I must have cried myself to sleep.”
“You did.”
Abigail crossed her arms, warming herself from the morning chill. She wondered at the small group of soldiers before her.
“What happened to the rest of the army? There aren’t many here.”
“After you fell asleep, most of the army left. Captain Amon… I mean, General Amon, sent Captain Mehida north with the army.”
“General?” The word stung. A tear rolled down Abigail’s cheek.
“Yes. By the voice of all captains present, Amon was made General of the Host of Gideon.” Rachel hesitated. “They said it was done according to custom.”
Abigail wiped the tear away and sniffed. “Yes. That is the custom. It just surprised me. Jasher…” She didn’t finish.
“I know it hurts. I’m so sorry. If I could share the burden with you, I would.”
They embraced. Abigail felt the sincerity of her new friend’s words. Feeling horribly alone in a land far from home, Rachel’s kind words calmed her fears. I don’t know what I would do without Rachel here, she thought. Pulling away, Abigail thanked her.
“Abigail, I should also tell you… well, I don’t want you to be surprised later. Jonathan and Eli were asked to be General Amon’s special advisors. Tavor was made a captain to take Eli’s place, and Mehida now occupies Amon’s former position. They also made Pekah a captain of fifty.”
Abigail turned away. Somehow the news about Pekah’s promotion didn’t bother her, but she wanted to be upset about it. Bewildered by her husband’s last request, she searched her soul for anger toward Pekah, for disgust-anything to justify not heeding Jasher’s dying wish. She tried to understand his motivation, hoping to find some reason to reject his desire. All she found was love. Jasher loved her. She cried.
Rachel patted her on the back. “Abigail, will you come with me?” Rachel asked with a gentle hand on her shoulder.
Abigail wiped her eyes, then pulled her straight black hair behind her ears. A lump still in her throat, she only nodded. Rachel led the way.
Previously, they had come out of the western door and hallway that connected the Council Hall to the palace. Rachel explained that this time she wanted to go back into the palace by way of the eastern door so she could show Abigail the Temple of Hasor.
They followed the graceful curve of a flagstone path winding between mature oak trees on the south side of the hall. As they rounded the south-east corner of the edifice, the Temple of Hasor loomed before them. The sight of the white granite walls and the tall central spire filled with glow-stone windows nearly took Abigail’s breath away.
“It’s almost identical to the Temple of Sacrifice in Ramathaim-smaller, but just as beautiful,” Rachel explained.
“It is magnificent,” Abigail said, admiring the spire.
Rachel touched her arm. She saw Jonathan, Pekah, and Eli walking toward them from the temple. Jonathan found his way to Rachel and fell to one knee as he kissed the hand of his betrothed.
“You rested well, I hope?”
“Yes, thank you,” Rachel replied, watching Abigail.
Unprepared to face the man she had been told to marry, Abigail awkwardly avoided Pekah’s eyes. Both Jonathan and Eli greeted her warmly.
“Peace and comfort to you, Lady Abigail,” Jonathan said.
“And rest from your sorrows,” Eli added.
“And to you-and thank you, Eli. I am very grateful,” she said, her voice muted. She studied the boots of the men. They were scuffed and worn. Feeling Pekah’s gaze, she forced herself to look up. He looked at her steadily, his face calm.
“We were in the temple before dawn this morning,” Pekah said. “I prayed that you would feel the love of the Holy One in your broken heart, that it might be made whole, and that you would be comforted. I’m sorry for your loss.”
Touched by the evident emotion in his voice, Abigail believed he was sincere. She bowed her head, but could not find the words to respond. Her husband’s request of the night before, for her to “marry this good man,” again played out in her mind, leaving her speechless. She did not know Pekah. Although probably her age, he seemed younger, a stark contrast to Jasher, who was older, wiser.
Abigail barely managed an expression of gratitude for his kindness. Pekah nodded, stepped back, and seemed to melt into Eli’s shadow.
Abigail’s eyes lifted once again to the central spire of the exquisite building. Trying to be strong, she stated, “There’s a peace here. Something about these grounds makes me feel bright and warm, like the color of the stone. It’s the most beautiful building I have ever seen.”
Eli stepped a bit closer to the women and pointed to the spire. “The capstone on that spire was placed by Jonathan’s grandfather and my grandfather together. It’s not an old structure like the Temple of Sacrifice in Ramathaim. That temple was built several hundred years ago. Have you ever been there?”
“I haven’t,” Abigail said. “If it’s as beautiful as this temple, I would like to see it someday.”
“You may get your wish soon,” Eli said with enthusiasm. “You’re riding with us today, are you not?”
“Yes, I am.”Abigail hesitated, and then added, “Rachel has been so good to me. I have nowhere else to go, but with her.”
Rachel smiled and hooked her arm through Abigail’s.
Memories of the previous evening suddenly made Abigail feel like a burden. In addition to Rachel, many others had gone out of their way to try to comfort her. She remembered their concern as they all stood around Jasher’s grave. That concern again showed in the eyes of all those present, making her feel conspicuous.
“Is it all right if I come with you?”
Rachel seemed somewhat shocked by the question. “Of course it is! I wouldn’t want to go without you!”
This warmed Abigail’s heart, causing her to fight back tears. Rachel threw an arm around her shoulder.
“Would you ladies please excuse us?” Jonathan asked as if he were intruding.
Rachel reached for Jonathan’s hand. She held it for a moment, and released him with a very stern, motherly, “Yes, you are excused.”
The men chuckled at her playfulness and took their leave toward the western courtyard, where the army made preparations to travel. Abigail hugged Rachel, then together they walked toward the temple, arm-in-arm.
Chapter 28
Traitors
Still very solemn, Pekah stole a glance over his shoulder to see Abigail as he left. She was hugging Rachel. Picking up his pace, he followed close behind Eli and Jonathan. As he thought of Abigail’s hand in his, a yearning to talk to his friends in private welled up within him. What did they think of Jasher’s last wishes? Were they upset? Did they think it was improper?
The general’s request felt out of place to Pekah, even awkward. What man would give his wife away? Pekah felt certain there were some present in the tent who were not happy about what had happened, but no one had said anything to him. And that was precisely the issue-the fact that Jonathan and Eli had not mentioned the experience at all made him even more uncomfortable with it. It seemed as if he had breached the rules of propriety.
