East of Ashes

by Gideon Nieuwoudt

  "Are you suggesting he had something to do with it?" he asked surprised.

  "I don't know... no, I guess not. It just seems so suspicious," she said, dropping her head back onto his shoulder.

  They began walking again. Joash tried to collect his thoughts. He recalled the look on Lamech's face when he had held Leala in his arms that night: a disturbing mix of anger and awe. At the time he had been too wrapped up in Leala to think much about it.

  He had no idea what Lamech had been thinking, but it probably hadn't been good. Still, he couldn't bring himself to believe Lamech had anything to do with the attack. The way he threw himself into the fight next to Joash just didn't add up to such a possibility.

  "No, I don't think Lamech was involved. Whatever his reasons for leaving so suddenly, it wasn't related to the attack," he finally answered, remembering the flash of pain and vulnerability in Lamech's eyes just before he turned and ran out the back door.

  Aware of how the conversation had affected Joash, she stopped and turned to him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and gently placed her head against his chest as she soaked up his warmth.

  Joash rested his chin on her head and held her close. "It feels so good to hold you tight," he whispered. Leala smiled in answer and looked up at him.

  Joash bent his head and kissed her tenderly. Leala melted as he held her. She closed her eyes, lost in his kiss.

  When she finally opened her eyes, she gasped in shock. Joash, feeling her go rigid against him, pulled away to look at her face, but then spun around when he saw her staring over his shoulder.

  A group of soldiers was approaching on horseback, their spears held rigid with intent. The foremost rider spurred his horse forward and closed the distance in mere seconds. Dismounting when he reached them, he walked forward, his hand resting on the hilt of a massive, curved sword.

  "Are you Joash?" he asked.

  Joash eyed him suspiciously but then nodded in acknowledgement. Leala looked from Joash to the newcomer in confusion.

  "You are hereby placed under arrest. You will come with us. Now."

  "By whose authority?" Joash exclaimed.

  The soldier smiled at his question, but his eyes were filled with menace.

  "By the order of Pope Urban II himself."

  "For what?" Leala asked incredulously.

  "For the murder of Lord Gaal, special emissary of the Pope."

  "What?" Joash couldn't believe his ears.

  The soldier said nothing but simply stood smiling as his comrades grabbed Joash's arms and began dragging him away. Leala stood in shocked silence, the questions she wanted to scream locked in her throat.

  Joash's mind reeled, but he managed to focus. Judging by the soldier's menacing smile, he deemed it wise not to struggle against his captors. No sense in giving them an excuse, he thought as they took him away.

  Leala took a step in their direction on unsteady legs, tears streaming down her face, only to crumble to the ground. Struggling to prop herself up, her hands spread out in the snow, she tried to see through her tears.

  Joash managed to turn his head just before being loaded onto a horse and mouthed parting words at her: "I love you. Pray for me."

  As the soldiers spurred their horses into a gallop, one single thought kept Joash going: Leala would pray. She would pray the angels of heaven down upon him.

  -------

  Joash was taken to the city dungeons where he was locked up for the night. The walls felt like they were encroaching on him and he feared his mind would not survive the terror that hammered his every thought.

  Throughout the cold dark night, he repeatedly recited scripture: "Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me."

  He used the words of the Psalm as he would a sword, cutting and stabbing the groping hands that tried to take hold of him.

  At some stage during the night a man showed up outside his cell. He looked at Joash for a long time without speaking. Joash met his gaze even though the enormity of what had happened to him was making it very hard.

  Still, he dragged up every last bit of will he had and steeled himself.

  "What do you want with me?" he finally asked.

  "We found your dagger," his visitor answered.

  Joash couldn't understand what he was talking about and just stared at him.

  "Yes, your dagger. The one with Lord Gaal's blood on it."

  Even though understanding was beginning to seep through into Joash's mind, he just couldn't grasp what he was talking about.

  His questioner changed tactics: "If you confess, at least you can be assured of a swift execution."

  Execution. That one word, spoken so casually, finally broke through and Joash staggered under the realisation of what he had been arrested for.

  "But I didn't do anything!" he exclaimed.

  His interrogator looked at him, and then grunted. "Fine, then we'll do it your way," he answered and walked out the door, leaving Joash staring at his back in the dark, questions jostling for attention.

  He had questions - and a lot of them aimed at God, whom he had served faithfully all his life, only to be seemingly led to destruction. But even as the painful thought made its way onto the stage of his mind, he dismissed it with a mental backhand, knowing it to be false.

  Whatever happened, he knew that it didn't change a single thing about God's faithfulness. Time and time again, the Lord had proven to him that He was for him and, more importantly, supremely trustworthy.

  Still, the despair threatened to engulf him. He fought it in the only way he knew how: reciting scripture.

  As he began saying the words of Psalm 23 - at first in a soft whisper, gradually building to a crescendo until he was once more hacking at the dark threads of despair - he was acutely aware of what the Jewish king David must have felt like when he had penned those powerful words.

  Sometime after midnight he found himself standing next to the ventilation shaft that was cut at an upwards angle through the outer wall. Through it he could barely make out the edge of the moon, casting its light through a cloud.

  Standing with his one hand resting on the shaft's edge, fingering the smooth grooves left by thousands of prisoners who had stood in the exact same spot as him over the years, he felt a kinship with all those helpless souls who had looked up at the only bit of light left to them.

  Basking in the moonlight that radiated down, he finally found himself being filled with peace. Somewhere out there, he knew Leala was praying for him. But it was the words of the Psalmist - defiantly crying out his trust in his Maker - that calmed his raging thoughts.

  In the quiet of his cell, he knelt down and prayed a simple prayer.

  I don't know why this is happening Lord. But I know that whatever happens, You are with me. You have not forsaken me and I will not believe the lies of the enemy that say that You have. I pray that you will strengthen me, that you will give me what I need to see this through. And I pray that your name will be glorified through all of this.

  With his mind and spirit at ease, Joash lay down on his side on the little straw that was provided for bedding and promptly fell asleep.

  -------

  Kenan, magistrate of Avignon, considered himself a fair and honest man. In his line of work, the former was a necessity to see justice done, but justice was not always a matter that received extensive attention in these times.

  More often than not, power games and expedience interfered with justice. Still, he tried to make sure that every accused man under his watch received fair treatment and that when he was required to look the other way when sentences were passed, he had done all he could to ensure it wasn't too far off the mark.

  But something about the man brought to the dungeons a fortnight ago bothered him. Kenan prided himself on being an excellent judge of character and this prisoner simply didn't strike him as someone who could commit cold-blooded murder.

&nb
sp; Yes, behind his clearly gentle nature there lurked a steeliness that could be called upon when needed, but most likely only when defending others as was evidently the case during the fight at the inn in Arles. But to go to a man's room in the dark of night - after having protected him earlier - and not only slit his throat, but stab him 43 times? And only because he hadn't agreed with his politics?

  Kenan found that very hard to believe.

  The man sitting opposite him, however, was a very different story.

  He was good looking, with stabbing eyes and a dangerous atmosphere about him. Looking at his lop-sided grin, Kenan had no trouble imagining him capable of such brutality.

  But by the look of things, he also had the pope's ear - which in these times was becoming a more powerful weapon with each passing day. It hadn't always been like that, but since the start of the Crusade, the pope's political influence had been growing tremendously. Kenan feared where that would lead them all to.

  Gedi - as he had introduced himself earlier - had arrived in Avignon two days before Joash was arrested. He had presented Kenan with the dagger believed to be the murder weapon and informed him that only three other guests had stayed at the inn in Arles the night of the attack and of Lord Gaal's murder. And that all three of them were gone the next morning.

  More importantly, however, he knew who the dagger belonged to.

  According to Lord Gaal's surviving bodyguard, Joash had the dagger tucked into his belt when they had arrived at the inn, so it was a clear assumption that he was also the owner - a fact that Joash admitted to upon questioning.

  Of course, he alleged to have lost the dagger sometime before the attack, saying that when he had needed it during the fight, it had no longer been in his belt. The magistrate had to admit it was a very convenient story - too convenient - and would have dismissed it outright. Most soldiers he knew would be acutely aware of it when one of their weapons went missing.

  The trouble was, he couldn't shake the feeling that somehow Joash's story was true.

  Gaal's bodyguard said he had left the inn on Lord Gaal's instruction shortly after the attack to go look for reinforcements. He had objected to leaving his liege unprotected at the inn, but clearly Gaal had considered himself safe in the same building as Joash and his companions, following their protection during the attack.

  Upon the bodyguard's return with a garrison of soldiers the next morning, however, they had found Lord Gaal's butchered body in his quarters. On the floor in the corner of the room the murder weapon had lain discarded, covered in blood.

  Upon inspection the bodyguard quickly discovered that Joash and his two companions were nowhere to be found.

  Watching Kenan's face, Gedi had no difficulty in guessing his thoughts. It would be best to remind the magistrate of where his allegiances ought to be.

  "As I said, the pope expresses his deepest gratitude for your assistance in apprehending the murderer of one of his most trusted emissaries. He asked me to ensure you that he would not forget your loyalty," he said evenly, carefully watching Kenan's response.

  Fully aware that he was being scrutinised, Kenan sought to deflect the attention away from his doubts: "And you say the pope wishes to attend the hearing in person?" he asked.

  "Most definitely. I received word just last night that he should be able to come to Avignon in August."

  "August? And what am I to do with the prisoner for the next eight months?" Kenan asked surprised.

  "Keep him locked up in the dungeons," Gedi replied, "But make sure he's still alive in August. I'm sure I don't need to tell you how upset the pope will be if he arrived in Avignon only to find that the man responsible for a close friend's murder is no longer available to stand trial for his crimes," he added softly.

  Kenan swallowed involuntarily at the thinly veiled threat. Matters were clearly beyond his control. It would be prudent to have it decided by a higher authority.

  "As you wish," he answered, but then decided to risk a question: "Forgive me for asking, but do you know what happened to Joash's other companion? The man known as Lamech?"

  Gedi was irritated by Kenan's presumptuous question, but decided to answer him. In his experience, it was often more effective to follow up the stick with a bone.

  "Our sources tell us he has joined with the Crusaders and has reached Antioch."

  "And you are certain he didn't have anything to do with the murder?"

  Now Gedi was getting angry: "He is fighting a holy cause! It is blasphemous to suggest he had anything to do with this devilish act," he said dismissively.

  Kenan nodded his head in assent. What information he had been able to gather about Lamech made him think it more likely that he would be involved than Joash, but he had already pushed too hard.

  He sighed. It was Joash's knife after all.

  -------

  --- Avignon, April 1098 ---

  Sitting on the banks of the river, Leala was engaged in a desperate act - the only remaining thing she could do: writing a letter.

  In the three months since Joash had been arrested on the ridiculous charge of murdering Gaal, Leala had exhausted every avenue she could think of to get him acquitted but to no avail. Everyone was waiting for the pope to arrive in August.

  In the meantime, Joash was locked up in that dungeon. At least they were feeding him relatively well. No point in executing a corpse, she thought cynically.

  She had cried until her tears had run dry; wrestled with God until she had no more words to formulate a prayer. At times she felt like she was screaming into the wind, her words blown to shreds before they were even uttered. And all the while that still small voice in her spirit was reminding her of the words of Isaiah:

  "When Your judgements are in the earth, the inhabitants of the world will learn righteousness."

  She didn't understand what it meant, but somehow the words brought immense comfort when doubt wanted to destroy her faith. All her life she had served the Lord with all her heart and she had believed He had blessed her with only good things - and kept harm away from her - because of her faithfulness.

  And then the inn had been attacked on that terrible night. It had been hard to deal with it at first, but she had managed to fight her way through it. But now one of her pillars had been removed, forcing her to face a reality beyond anything she had ever experienced before.

  Not even her cousin had been able to give much comfort. Leala had hoped that she would be able to shed some light on what had happened that night, but she hadn't had much information to add. After the attack Gaal went to his room - and in the morning his bodyguard had found him dead.

  And Lamech was gone. Which was why she was writing a letter to him now.

  The thought had come to her the previous night while she was praying. She had been pleading with the Lord for help when the thought suddenly just came to her.

  It was a desperate move, but she couldn't resist the overwhelming compulsion to write to him, though she didn't put much trust in him. It wasn't that she had suspected him of wrongdoing, but him joining the Crusade left her incredulous. She prayed to the Lord to forgive her for thinking so poorly of him, but she just couldn't believe that his motivation was pious.

  Whatever his reasons for joining the Crusade, she was sending this letter to him at the Crusader camp near Antioch, hoping that he might have seen something before he left. If he was still alive, she prayed that he would receive the letter.

  What he did with it, however, was entirely up to him - and God.

  CHAPTER 10

  --- Antioch, May 1098 ---

  --- Lamech ---

  Lamech moved his arm slowly, testing it to see at which point the pain flared up. With each passing week he had managed to get more out of it as it healed slowly. Fortunately it was a clean break and it mended without leaving him crippled - thanks to Othniel.

  When the Caracen army had arrived in February to reinforce the garrison of Antioch, he had to sit out the ensuing battle. Othniel threatened to c
ut off his arm himself if he didn't let it mend first. Truth be told, in his state, he probably wouldn't have been able to help much.

  It had still managed to make him angry that his arm took so long to heal though. He had the food scarcity and blistering cold of the winter to thank for that. It had threatened to wipe out the entire camp even before the Caracen reinforcements arrived.

  Talk about a miracle - Lamech had no idea how the Crusader army survived the winter, not to mention the battle with the Caracen army. Against impossible odds, the Crusaders had wrestled away victory from the Caracens. The way the battle had turned had left Lamech astounded.