by Daron Fraley
The soldier ground his teeth like a horse chewing on its bridle, but did not stand down. He pulled the bowstring fully back, now pointing at Jonathan’s legs.
“If he decides to fire,” Eli whispered, “we will not reach him in time.”
The tension in the air was palpable. None of the four men moved.
Pekah decided to try negotiating with the Gideonite soldier. “I don’t know your name,” Pekah stated with an outstretched arm, “But I do know that you would probably like to know mine. If you drop your weapon, I will tell you who we are, and why we are traveling together.”
Very briefly, the situation seemed to improve. The soldier relaxed his pull and let the arrow-point fall farther toward his own feet. But then one of the fallen Danielites, whom Pekah had assumed to be dead, let out a groan of pain. The Gideonite started to aim for the wounded man.
His face full of anger, Jonathan advanced, his crystal sword sparkling in the daylight. Just as quick as a lightning flash, the Gideonite swung his aim back around and up at Jonathan’s chest. Pekah reacted out of pure instinct and jumped in front of Jonathan just as the arrow was let loose. It struck Pekah squarely in the breastplate, knocking him off his feet. Eli had already charged, and with all his strength, he connected his swinging staff with the side of the Gideonite’s head, producing a splitting sound like a melon falling off a farmer’s cart. The soldier dropped like a rock into a heap upon the ground.
Jonathan knelt at Pekah’s side and lifted his head from the ground. The arrow lay in the dirt beside him.
Pekah wheezed. “I can’t breathe,” he said, nearly choking on the words.
Jonathan yanked the breastplate straps loose, and Eli helped Pekah sit up. Jonathan pressed his finger against the small wound to stop the bleeding. “Pekah?”
Pekah gasped, still fighting for air. He groaned. “Ohhh . . . that hurt!”
“Not as much as it hurt him,” Eli added gravely as he pointed to the fallen Gideonite.
Once he could breathe without gasping, Pekah inspected his armor to find that the arrow had not completely pierced the hardened leather. Only the very tip of the arrow-point had made it through. The wind had been knocked out of him, but he was alive, and grateful for it.
“Can you stand?” Jonathan asked.
“Yes. Help me up, please.” He leaned on them for assistance. “Much better.”
Jonathan patted him on the shoulder, then motioned to the Danielite soldier. “He is still alive.” Jonathan led the way to the soldier’s side.
As they approached, Pekah knew the Danielite would not live. He had been cut through the belly, and the amount of blood loss indicated that his time was short.
“Can you hear me?” Jonathan asked as he knelt on one knee beside the man’s head.
The man groaned but did not answer right away. His head tilted toward the voice, and then upon opening his eyes, there came a moment of recognition as if he knew who Jonathan was.
“Do you know him?” Pekah asked Jonathan.
“No.”
The soldier tried to lift his head, but fell back to the ground. Eli retrieved a wineskin, and Pekah assisted in holding the man’s head up while Eli dripped some of the liquid into the man’s mouth.
“Thank you,” the soldier said with difficulty. He coughed, wincing at the pain. With wide eyes and the force of a driven purpose, he choked, “The emperor . . . is in Ain.”
The Danielite then lost all of his strength, groaning as his last breath left him.
Jonathan laid him to the ground with care, and arose from his kneeling position. Emotions welled in Jonathan’s eyes and dripped down onto his beard, and Pekah’s own eyes misted. Eli was no less somber.
The companions stood there together in respectful silence for almost a minute until Eli suggested they take a closer look at Pekah’s wound. It had stopped bleeding, but still needed attention. Eli pulled a small bandaging cloth from Pekah’s supplies, and Pekah tucked it into his shirt and pressed it to the wound, wincing at the pain. Eli grabbed up the breastplate and examined the small hole, pressing the indentation back out the best he could. Pekah strapped it back to hold the bandage in place.
“Did you see where the arrow hit your armor?” Jonathan asked.
Pekah peered down to see the arrow mark, precisely at the raven’s eye, and right over his heart. His knees suddenly felt weak as he realized that without the armor, he would be dead, just like the Danielite soldier.
“Are you sure you are well enough to travel?” Eli asked, concerned.
Distracted by what the dying Danielite had told them, Pekah only nodded.
Eli studied Pekah, but Pekah averted his eyes elsewhere.
“What’s bothering you?” Jonathan prodded.
Pekah sighed, but still did not answer.
“Did you know the emperor was going to be in Ain?” Eli asked.
“Yes.”
Jonathan stepped into Pekah’s line of sight. “When did you learn he was there?”
Pekah touched his leather breastplate, right at the tender spot on his chest, before looking up again at his companions. “In the dream I had last night, I didn’t know where I was, but Eli stood with me, and we talked to Emperor Manasseh. I don’t remember what we said.”
Jonathan grabbed his beard and twisted it in his fingers before tucking his hands under his belt.
Recognizing Jonathan’s pensive reaction, Pekah felt it best to tell what he was doing in his dream, and so with soberness he added, “I had the scepter with me. Eli told me to show it to the emperor.”
“I wasn’t with you?”
“No, but now that I think about it, I didn’t feel you were absent by accident—you were absent intentionally.”
Jonathan reached into his shirt. He handed the purple cloth and rod to Pekah, forcing them into his hands, clasping them both with his own. “Then you will take it. Show it to Emperor Manasseh,” he said in a kind, yet stern, tone.
Pekah gaped at the scepter in his trembling hands as Jonathan released him.
“Pekah, you saved my life today, and I will be forever grateful. I’m giving this to you in hopes that it may be used, perhaps as an instrument in your hands, to convince Manasseh to end his aggression toward our peoples.”
“Will you not need a leather bag to carry it in?” Eli winked in Pekah’s direction. Pekah shrugged his shoulders as he followed Eli’s gaze to a small leather sack around one of the dead Danielite’s shoulders. Eli stepped over to the man and recovered it, opening it where Pekah could also see the contents. The bag held a severely damaged wooden spyglass. The ocular was broken, and the cylinder cracked. Noting that the item was rendered useless, Eli discarded it, then shook all the remaining fragments from the bag, and handed the pouch to Pekah.
“Here. Is it just like you remember from your dream?” Eli asked.
Pekah examined the bag and tested it by placing the wrapped scepter within. He drew the strings together and hung it over his neck. “Perhaps,” he responded with uncertainty. He felt a little strange that everyone was playing along with the dream he had related.
Jonathan stepped closer and gripped Pekah’s shoulder. “When we get to the city, I will stay behind on the trail and find a place to conceal myself.” He cleared his throat and with a wry smile added, “That way, you won’t have to throw me into the river to be rid of me.”
Eli laughed heartily. Pekah couldn’t help but smile, glad to have found friends who were genuine and trusting. Even though he still felt immense apprehension about taking The Thorn to the emperor—a man known for his cruelty—he knew now his dream was real, undoubtedly a gift of prophecy from the Great King.
The men counseled together about the horses, the wagon, and the men lying dead on the road, and decided that Eli and Pekah would take the wagon and team into the city as a gift to the emperor so they could gain an audience with him. They walked back to the horses and calmed them with soft words, patting and rubbing their necks. Then they led the cart to where t
he dead soldiers lay.
Jonathan located a soft piece of ground in the woods where they could dig graves for the fallen men. Using a shovel they found on the wagon, they turned up the rich soil beneath two overhanging oaks. They took turns digging until Eli became frustrated. With characteristic teasing, he used his bear-like strength to finish the last two holes on his own. The bodies were retrieved and laid to rest in the fresh burial pits.
“I want to find their families,” Jonathan said as he cut a lock of hair from each of the two Danielite soldiers.
One man had a ring, to which Jonathan tied the corresponding lock of hair, and the other had a narrow lace ribbon attached to his quiver strap, surely placed there by a loved one. Jonathan removed it, wrapping the hair within it. He tied it off in a small, rolled package, then stuffed both objects into the pocket previously occupied by The Thorn.
After covering the bodies, Eli spoke a word of prayer, and the somber men returned to the road to fetch the cart. None of them spoke as they resumed their journey. Only the sounds of the horses’ hooves and the grinding of the wagon wheels filled the air. Like the low-hanging smoke from a doused fire on a cold morning, Pekah once again felt the heaviness of war in the air about him. Conflict, death, burial—Pekah suspected the pattern would repeat many times in coming days.
Although expecting to find additional soldiers at some point along the road, their travel during the last of the morning and the rest of the day remained uneventful. They did not stop to eat their mid-day meal, but ate most of their own supplies as they traveled. During a momentary rest, they also raided a few of the supplies they hauled in the wagon. They found dried meats, a cheese softened on account of the heat, and a skin filled with water. Markings on the casks in the wagon indicated that they held wine, beans, spices, fruit, and olives. A few of the casks were marked for the emperor, which assured the three companions that the Danielite had been correct about Manasseh’s presence at Ain.
They traveled the rest of the day with nervous anticipation, discussing how they might best enter the city and what they might say to the emperor, disagreeing about how Manasseh would react to seeing the scepter. Although it would be difficult to convince him to end the war, they placed their faith in one distinct hope: Pekah’s dream was meant to tell them what they should do. Trusting that effective and convincing words would be given by the Spirit in the proper moment, they stoked the embers of faith within their hearts, confident they could provide, or produce, the environment and situation in which the Great Creator would work out His purposes.
And so they marched on, well into the early evening, when they came to a place in the road which led sharply downhill. It descended by way of a few switchbacks and continued a mile more into the outskirts of the walled city they now saw in the distance. The thinning tree line still provided enough cover to make them unnoticeable to anyone near the city who might happen to gaze their way.
From their new vantage point, they could see they were in the high hills east of Ain, bordered on both the north and the south by small mountains. Far to the west of Ain where the sister moons would later rise, an immense mountain range with high, snow-capped peaks and rugged valleys formed a jagged horizon. This range ran in a southeasterly direction, behind the small mountains on their left, toward the lands inhabited by the Gideonites. Between those distant mountains and the high hills on which they now stood was a beautiful valley, filled with numerous orchards and farmland, all of which lined the road to the city of Ain.
The three of them searched the immediate area for a place of refuge and saw that the tree line north of the road led to some rocky outcroppings, which promised a remote, and yet high, observation point.
“I’ll go up there to wait for your return,” Jonathan said.
Pekah handed Jonathan the remainder of the dried meat and cheese from the wagon. “Take the rest of this with you.”
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 dr
eary 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.”