Vengeance of Orion

by Ben Bova

  "It is known as the oldest city in the world," he said.

  "Is it? The walls certainly seem high and thick."

  "Stronger than Troy's."

  "They want us to help them take it."

  He made a coughing grunt.

  "Can it be done?"

  Lukka scratched at his beard. "My lord Orion, any city can be taken. It's only a question of time, and how many lives you can afford to lose."

  We made our camp as far from the animal pens as possible. As the men pitched their tents, I brought Helen out from the covered cart. There was no sense trying to keep her hidden here.

  "The men will want to mingle with the women here," Lukka told me.

  I nodded, but warned, "Tell them to be careful and mind their manners. I doubt that these women are the kind who take to strangers."

  He made a tiny smile. "They all seem to be well protected by family males," he agreed. "Still—no harm in being friendly."

  "Just make certain that they're not so friendly they get their throats cut."

  Ben-Jameen came back to us as the sun dipped below the western mountains and the long violet shadows crept across the plain.

  "Joshua invites you to have supper with him in his tent." He seemed excited and pleased.

  Just then Helen came out of my tent, freshly washed in water brought up from the distant river, clothed in a long pleated gown of crimson, a golden necklace and bracelet her only jewelry.

  Ben-Jameen gaped at her.

  "This is Helen, princess of the lost city of Troy," I said, deciding not to mention that she was Queen of Sparta. "She will accompany me at supper."

  It took the youth several moments to get his mouth closed and his eyes off Helen. Finally he turned to me and said, "Among us, women do not eat with men."

  "Your leader will have to make an exception in this case."

  Ben-Jameen nodded dumbly and scrambled off to inform Joshua of this startling turn of events.

  Helen stepped close to me. "I can stay here, Orion. It's not wise to cause trouble over me."

  I disagreed. "It's necessary for you to come with me. I want this Joshua, whoever he is, to realize that he can't command me as if I were his servant."

  "Ah, I understand," she said. Then, with a smile, "And I thought you couldn't bear the thought of taking a meal without me by your side."

  I smiled back. "That, too."

  Ben-Jameen returned with a guard of honor, six men in clean robes, armed only with short swords scabbarded at their sides, who escorted us to a wide, low tent of goat skins. I had to duck to get through the entrance flap.

  Inside, the tent was spacious. Worn carpets covered the ground. A low table was spread with steaming bowls of meat and platters of olives, onions, and greens I could not identify. A dozen old men at around the table, on brightly decorated cushions and pillows, to the center of the table sat a younger man, his long hair and beard still dark, his eyes bright with an inner fire.

  It was Joshua's eyes that sent a warning alarm tingling along my nerves. They blazed with the light of a zeal that knew no bounds, is if he were so certain that what he was doing was the right thing hat he never questioned any action that popped into his thoughts. He was an intense, dedicated man in his late thirties or early forties, I guessed, lean as a sword and as straight, unbent even by the burdens of leading his people as they struggled to find a homeland for themselves.

  Ben-Jameen performed the introductions. None of the Israelites stood, but Joshua invited us to sit at the empty places around the table once we had been properly introduced to everyone. I sat directly across the table from Joshua, Helen on my left, Ben-Jameen on my right. The men ignored Helen so thoroughly that I knew her presence disturbed them no end.

  There was no wine at the table, only a thin fermented goat's milk that tasted so sour I preferred the water. The food was plentiful, though. For a nomadic tribe on the march through a hostile land, they had plenty to eat. At least, these leaders did.

  Joshua remained silent as we ate, but he watched me carefully, his eyes never leaving me. The old men asked me hundreds of questions about who I was, where I came from, were my men truly Hittite soldiers, had the God of Israel really destroyed the Hittite empire? I answered as truthfully as I could, and as we finished the meal with dates and melons, I complimented Joshua on the food.

  "Yes," he said, "this is truly a land of milk and honey, just as the Lord our God promised it would be."

  "Tell me of your god," I said. "What does he look like? What do you call him?"

  A gasp went around the table. Several of the old men actually pushed away, as if afraid I would infect them. Even Ben-Jameen edged slightly away from me.

  "His name is never spoken," said Joshua, his voice reedy, nasal, his words coming fast, as if he were angry. "He is the Lord God of Israel, the God of our fathers."

  "The most powerful God of all," said one of the old men.

  "The only God," Joshua insisted firmly. "All other gods are false."

  "He is a golden, radiant figure?" I asked.

  "No one has ever seen Him," said Joshua, "and it is forbidden to make images of Him."

  "How does he communicate with you?"

  "He spoke directly to Moses," said the elder on Joshua's right. "He led us through the wilderness and gave Moses the tablets of the law."

  "He has led us here," said Joshua, tapping a blunt forefinger on the table. "To Jericho. We crossed the River Jordan dry shod, just as He led Moses and our people across the Sea of Reeds. He has promised us this land of Canaan for our own. But if we can't conquer Jericho we will be nothing but wandering beggars, strangers in our own land, outcasts forever."

  "Jericho commands the plain here, that I can see."

  "Jericho commands the entire region. He who holds Jericho holds all of Canaan," he said. "That is why we must take the city. That is why you must help us."

  "We are only two dozen men."

  "Two dozen Hittite soldiers," Joshua said. "The same Hittites who razed Ugarit. Soldiers who are expert at siege warfare."

  "But with so few . . ."

  Joshua's eyes blazed at me. "You have been sent by God to help us. To refuse would mean refusing the God of Israel. That would be an extremely unwise thing to do."

  I smiled back at him. "It would be impolite of me to refuse your request, after the hospitality you have shown us."

  "You will help us, then?" Despite himself, he leaned forward eagerly.

  "My men and I will do what we can," I said, realizing that I was dealing with a fanatic and there was no way out.

  They all smiled and nodded their heads and murmured about the will of God.

  But I added, "Once Jericho falls, we will be on our way to Egypt."

  "Egypt!" The word went around the table as if it were a blasphemy.

  "Egypt is our destination," I said calmly. "We will help you in your siege of Jericho, and then go on our way to that land."

  Joshua smiled thinly. "After Jericho falls, you can go to Egypt or anywhere else you choose." He made it sound as if he were saying, You can go to hell, for all I care.

  Chapter 28

  "This is madness," Lukka said.

  We stood in the rising heat of morning, at the edge of the Israelite camp, studying the triple walls of Jericho. At sunrise we had ridden completely around the besieged city, as close as a bowshot. The walls were enormous, much higher than Troy's and undoubtedly much thicker. To make things worse, a deep trench had been carved out of the bedrock in front of the main length of the wall. A drawbridge crossed it, although the bridge was pulled up tight against the city gate now. The trench was partially filled with garbage and debris, but still it was steep-walled and an obstacle that looked all but impassable.

  "We'll never be able to get siege towers against those walls," Lukka told me. I reluctantly agreed with him. Jericho stood atop a low hill, its main wall slanting from the bedrock floor of the valley plain up along the crest of the hill. Where the wall was set at the
floor of the plain, the trench protected it. Where it wound up along the crest, smaller retaining walls stood before it, making a triple set of barriers. The hillside itself was too steep to roll siege towers up its sides, and the walls were studded with strong round towers from which archers and slingers could pelt an attacker with arrows and stones.

  "No wonder Joshua needs help," I grumbled.

  Lukka squinted against the sun glare. "The people of Jericho have had a hundred generations to perfect their defenses. No wandering band of nomads is going to bring those walls down."

  I grinned at him. "That's why Joshua so kindly invited us to stay with him—until those walls do come down."

  "We will be here a long time, then."

  Through the morning we rode the circuit of the walls several times, looking for a weakness that simply was not there. The only thing I noticed was that some sections of the walls seemed older than others, their bricks grayer and less evenly aligned.

  "Earthquakes," said Lukka. "The walls are made of mud bricks. Once they dry they become as hard as stone. But an earthquake can tumble them."

  An earthquake. The glimmer of an idea stirred in the back of my mind.

  Lukka was pointing. "See how the wall is built in sections, with timbers dividing one section from the next? That way, even when an earthquake damages one section of the wall, the rest can remain standing."

  I nodded, but my mind was elsewhere.

  That night, as we lay down together in my tent, Helen asked, "How long will we have to stay among these awful people?"

  "Until they take the city," I answered.

  "But they may never . . ."

  I silenced her with a kiss. We made love, and she drifted to sleep.

  I closed my eyes too, and willed myself to that other realm where the so-called gods played their games with destiny. Concentrating every particle of my being, I crossed the gulf of space-time that divided my world from theirs.

  Once again I stood in that golden aura. But I could see their city through the shining mist, its towers and spires seemed clearer to me than ever before.

  "Ahriman," I called, with my mind as well as my voice. "Ahriman, my one-time enemy, where are you?"

  "Not here, creature."

  I turned and saw the haughty one I thought of as Hera. She wore a golden gown that left one shoulder bare, gathered at her waist by a chain of glittering jewels. Her dark hair hung in ringlets, her dark eyes probed me. With a smile that seemed almost menacing, she said: "At least you are dressed better than the last time we met."

  I made a slight bow. My makeshift uniform of tunic and leather vest was somewhat better than the rags I had worn at Ilium.

  "Are you here to draw more of my blood?" I asked.

  Her smile widened slightly. "Not really. Perhaps I can save the blood that's still in your body. Our golden Apollo has gone quite mad, you know."

  "He no longer calls himself Apollo."

  She shrugged. "Names are not important here. I speak only so that your pitifully limited mind can understand."

  "I am grateful for such kindness," I said. "The Golden One has found a tribe that worships him as their only god."

  "Yes. And he seeks to eliminate the rest of us. And," she added, with an arch of her brows, "he is using you to help him."

  I stood silently, digesting this news.

  "Isn't he?" she demanded.

  "I am helping the Israelites to conquer Jericho," I admitted. "Or, at least, I'm trying to . . ."

  "That's part of his plan, I'm sure of it!"

  "But I didn't know he is attempting to . . ." I recalled the word she had used, ". . . to eliminate you."

  "You know now!"

  "Does that mean he wants to kill you?"

  She almost snarled at me. "He would if he could. But he'll never get that chance. We'll crush him—and you, too, if you continue to aid him in any way."

  "But . . ."

  Leveling an accusing finger at me, she warned, "There is no neutral ground, Orion. Either you cease your aid to him or you are our enemy. Do you understand?"

  "I understand," I said.

  "Then consider carefully the consequences of your actions."

  "The one they call Athene," I said. "He promised me that . . ."

  "His promises cannot be trusted. You know that."

  "I want to revive her, to bring her back to life," I said.

  "And he's offered you her life in exchange for your obedience." Hera shook her head angrily. "Leave your dead goddess to us, Orion. She is one of us, and not for the likes of you."

  "Can she be revived?"

  "That's not . . ."

  "Can she be revived?" I shouted.

  Her eyes widened, whether with anger or fear or something else, I could not tell. She took a deep breath, then replied calmly, evenly, "Such a thing is—possible. Just barely within the realm of possibility. But it's not for you to even dream of!"

  "I do dream of it. I dream of nothing else."

  "Orion, you poor worm, even if she could be revived, she would have nothing more to do with you. She is one of us, so far beyond you that . . ."

  "I love her," I said. "That's the one advantage I have over you and your kind. I can love. So can she. But you can't. Neither you nor the Golden One nor any of the other gods. But she can, and she has loved me. And she died because of that."

  "You are hopeless," Hera snapped. She turned away from me in a swirl of golden robes and disappeared into the shining mist.

  I stood alone for several moments, then remembered why I had come here. To find Ahriman. The one the Achaians called Poseidon, the earth-shaker.

  Closing my eyes, I visualized his hulking dark form, his heavy gray face, his burning eyes. I called him mentally, telling myself that if he would not come to me, then I must seek and find him.

  I remembered, dimly, a forest of giant trees where Ahriman and his kind lived, in a continuum that existed somewhere, somewhen. Did it still exist? Could I find it?

  A dark shadow passed over me. I sensed it even with my eyes closed. I opened them and found myself in a dark, brooding forest. Not a drop of sunlight penetrated the canopy of almost-black leaves far above me. The boles of huge trees stood around me like gray marble columns rising toward infinity. The ground between their trunks was cropped grass, as smooth and even as a park.

  "Why are you here?"

  Out of the darkness a darker shape took form: Ahriman, solid and massive, decked in clothes the color of the forest. But his eyes glowed like red-hot coals.

  "To find you," I replied.

  He stepped closer to me. In his harsh, labored whisper, he asked, "And why seek me?"

  "I need your help."

  He glared at me. It was like a volcano threatening to pour out lava. "I will not shake down the walls of Jericho for you, Orion. I will not help your golden madman in his wild schemes."

  "It's not for him," I said.

  "That makes no difference. It is enough for me to protect my own people in our own continuum. I will not become a party to the quarrels of the self-styled Creators. They did not create me or my kind. I owe them nothing."

  "The Golden One promised he would revive Athene if I helped him," I said, ignoring his words. "He waits for me in the great pyramid in Egypt."

  "He waits there to destroy you, once you have finished your usefulness to him."

  "No," I said. "I will destroy him—somehow."

  "And what of your dead goddess then?" he asked.

  I had no answer.

  Slowly Ahriman swung his massive head back and forth. "Orion, if you want an earthquake, you must make it for yourself."

  I started to ask him what he meant, but the forest and Ahriman's dark, brooding presence slowly faded before my eyes, and I found myself sitting in the darkness of my tent, on the straw pallet next to Helen.

  She was sitting up too, her eyes wide with terror.

  "You were gone," she whispered, in a voice constricted by awe. "You were gone, and then you a
ppeared beside me."

  I put an arm around her bare shoulders and tried to calm her. "It's all right . . ."

  "It's magic! Sorcery!" Her naked body was cold and trembling.

  Pulling her close and wrapping both my arms around her, I said, "Helen, long ago I told you I was a servant of a god. That is the truth. Sometimes I must go to the gods, speak with them, ask them to help us."

  She looked up at me. Even in the predawn shadows I could see the fear and wonder in her face. "You actually go to Olympos?"

  "I don't know the name of the place, but—yes, I go to the home of the gods."

  Helen fell silent, as if there were no words to express the shock she felt.

  "They are not gods," I told her, "not in the sense that you believe. Certainly not in the sense that Joshua and his people believe. They care nothing for us, except to use us in their own schemes. They are not even immortal. The goddess that I once loved is dead, killed by one of her own kind."

  "You loved a goddess?"

  "I loved a woman who was one of the group whom you call gods and goddesses," I said. "Now she is dead, and I seek vengeance against the one who killed her."

  "You seek vengeance against a god?"

  "I seek vengeance against a madman who murdered my love."

  Helen shook her lovely head. "This is all a dream. It must be a dream. Yet—dreams themselves are sent by the gods."

  "It is no dream, Helen."

  "I will try to understand the meaning of it," she said, ignoring ay words. "The gods have sent us a message, and I will try to find its meaning."

  It was her way of adjusting to what I had told her. I decided not argue. Lying back on the pallet, I held her until she drifted back to sleep. My mind focused on Ahriman and his words to me: Orion, if you want an earthquake, you must make it for yourself."

  I thought I understood what he meant. With a smile, I went back to sleep.

  Chapter 29

  "Tunnel under the wall?" Lukka seemed more amused than skeptical.

  We were facing the western side of Jericho, where the main city wall climbed along the brow of the low hill. There were two smaller retaining walls at the base of the hill, one terraced a few yards above the other, but no defensive trench in front of them.