by Daron Fraley
Eli handed him a water skin as the group began their descent on the winding road toward Ain. He asked about Jonathan’s previous night under the stars.
“I used young pine boughs to make my bed comfortable, but I didn’t sleep well. Too worried, I suppose.”
As they rode, Pekah frequently glanced over to watch Jonathan, noticing that he would often reach out to touch Rachel’s hand whenever their eyes met. He felt a twinge of jealousy as he witnessed their tender exchanges. He let out a sigh, masked by the clomping of horses’ hooves.
Pekah’s mind wandered back to the conversations being carried on between the riders. He found Eli relating the tale of their arrival in Ain on the day previous. Eli told of the reception they received and everything else leading up to the final scene with Manasseh, taking special care to describe the emperor’s violent and angry reaction when Pekah refused to hand over The Thorn. Eli stopped his narration and motioned for Pekah to finish the story.
Pekah kept his gaze upon the horse’s ears before him, self-conscious about his part in the tale. Choosing his words with care so as not to bring attention to himself, Pekah tried to describe the manifestation of power from above. “A fierce wind blew in the building. It was like being in a storm, but it wasn’t dark. A light entered the room as if from heaven. Jonathan, I could feel it.”
“You could feel the light?”
“Yes. It felt like fire, but it did not burn me. And it was stronger than the wind. The light flashed through The Thorn and hit Manasseh. He immediately died, and the building shook and fell apart.”
“I saw it!” Jonathan said, startled. He leaned forward in his saddle with an intense look on his face.
“You saw what?” Eli asked.
“The light! Early this morning, I sat watching the city. The ground shook, and I saw a flash of light. I worried that something terrible had happened.”
“That’s when we were talking to Manasseh!” Pekah said.
All three men fell silent, the significance of the event sinking in.
Now thoughtful, Pekah touched the leather bag hanging from his neck. Realizing that Jonathan had never asked for the scepter to be returned, he mentioned it, but Rachel had Jonathan’s attention. Apparently confused by the story, she asked more questions, which Jonathan and Eli answered. Pekah listened. By the time they were within sight of the city gates, Pekah forgot his desire to give the scepter back.
In the distance, they could see the banners of Gideon flapping in the wind, now joined by the banners of both Uzzah and Daniel. A lump rose in Pekah’s throat when he saw the colors posted together. And in my lifetime, he thought. Reviewing the chain of events that had brought him from Hasor to Ain, he marveled.
When Jonathan asked about the flags, Eli filled in the rest of the story, including the dreams of General Jasher and Captain Amon. As Eli described the procession that flowed into the prison area, declaring the freedom of all with an end to the conflict, Jonathan grinned. He reached out and shook Pekah’s hand. “Thank you, my dear friend. I couldn’t have hoped for a better outcome. You have brought about an end to this war!”
Tavor spurred his horse closer. “Jonathan—this is actually just part of the army of Gideon. Much work remains to be done in order to truly end the war.”
Tavor is right, Pekah thought. General Jasher may have aligned with the other tribes, but Rezon has not. At least, not yet.
There wasn’t much talk after that. Pekah had other things he wanted to say, but noticed that Jonathan had a far-off look in his eyes, as if he were somewhere else, and chose not to disturb him. The last minutes of the journey passed by with only the gentle clomping of hooves reaching his ears.
They arrived at the gates to find them open, Danielite families gathered both outside the walls and in the courtyard, all assembled for their various journeys back to their homesteads around Ain. Avoiding the noisy crowd, the riders pressed on, past the tents and down the street that would lead them to the central courtyard.
The first time Pekah and Eli traveled this way, most of the neighboring buildings had either been abandoned or filled with Gideonite soldiers. They were now occupied by Danielite businessmen and families, spending their time tidying up their various properties. The laughter of children was a most welcome sound, but what touched Pekah most was seeing Gideonite soldiers working side-by-side with Danielites and Uzzahites in repairing broken doors, railings, and windows.
At one residence, two dark-haired soldiers had hung their armor over a post and were in the process of taking orders from an elderly Danielite woman as to where she wanted a large clay flowerpot moved on her flagstone porch. The woman had a gentle hand on the shoulder of the soldier next to her. The other one gazed up from where he knelt as if she were his dearest grandmother. This display of service by men who, just hours before, had been considered conquerors of the city, brought tears to Pekah’s eyes.
Arriving at the grand central fountain, they found themselves surrounded by a large host of Gideonite soldiers. The gathered crowd listened intently to General Jasher, who stood behind a makeshift podium set up on the exposed floor of the portable stateroom. Pekah rose in his saddle to see if the throne was still occupied, but it was empty. He pulled back on the reins so he could ask a man standing below him what had been done with the body of the emperor.
“They took Manasseh’s body out of the city and burned it in a funeral pyre,” came the reply.
Pekah thanked the man for the information and spurred his mount to catch up to the group.
The travelers arrived together near the northeast corner of the platform and dismounted. A loud cheer arose from the crowd as General Jasher announced he had released all prisoners, and some were already returning to their homes. Even with the clamor, Jasher noticed the arrival of Pekah’s group. He nodded with recognition as one of the escorting Gideonite soldiers raised his hand in greeting.
“Men of Gideon, my friends of Daniel and Uzzah,” Jasher thundered to the crowd once the noise died down, “we have just one more duty to perform, a duty to make right the wrongs that have been done by our people. We must travel to the other lands of Daniel and of Uzzah. We need to counsel with Rezon, in hopes that he will abandon his oath to wage this war. I am not the man to plead the cause for peace, yet there is now one among us to whom this right belongs.
“Pekah,” Jasher called, pointing. “Please bring your friend before us, that we may see him together.”
A hush went through the crowd, and all heads turned toward Pekah. Estimating those listening to be in the hundreds, perhaps even a thousand, he threw a nervous, silent plea to his companions, to which they responded with encouragement. Eli nudged him toward the steps. Tavor and Jonathan followed him for support, but Eli stayed below near Rachel.
As Pekah trudged toward Jasher, he surveyed the huge assemblage below him. There seemed to be a general attitude of anticipation from the soldiers around the platform, but there were many new faces gathered in the plaza that had not been present earlier in the day. He wondered if they had made the same covenant with Jasher. Because of the concern and distrust that darkened their faces, he doubted it.
Pekah could see many seasoned soldiers present—captains of ten and captains of fifty, and others who were surely from the late emperor’s personal guard. The expectation in their eyes made him nervous. Others before him appeared to be angry. He followed their disapproving glare toward Tavor and Jonathan. These soldiers would be the most difficult to convince to join Jasher’s cause.
Jasher motioned Pekah to take his place before the assemblage, which he did somewhat reluctantly. He cleared his throat, and addressed them with a traditional Gideonite greeting, “Prosperity and a safe haven for you all!” This prompted an echoed, “And to you!” from the crowd.
Pekah’s knees trembled. He cleared his throat again, and with a shaking, open hand, presented Jonathan to the soldiers below. “This is Jonathan, son of Samuel, and the heir of Daniel. He has come seeking peace, and desires
your help so all may go home to their families and be comforted from the losses and pains suffered in past weeks—pains and losses that have caused all The Brothers to mourn. Will you join with Jasher and with Jonathan, so peace may be accomplished?” As the words came forth, he was surprised by their strength.
Apart from those who had already covenanted to join Jasher’s cause, there were a few more declarations of enlistment among the other soldiers. Most were younger men who shouldered little or no visible authority. Other soldiers in the crowd, many of them older, remained stolid, unaffected by Pekah’s announcement. One grizzled, battle-hardened individual even spat on the ground when Pekah paused for reaction. Pekah noticed, but his resolve strengthened, a well of power springing up within. His hands steadied, and his knees held firm. He even felt taller.
“Just two days ago, after a sleepless night, a son of Daniel and a son of Uzzah shared with me the story of the Raven of Gideon. I am now in my twenty-third year, and never before had I heard this tale, even from my own people. How long has it been,” Pekah demanded, “since Gideon has led any brother lost in foggy paths out into the bright light of day?”
Not a single voice rose from the crowd.
“When did Gideon forget the charge given to him by Father Noah, to care for all, and to bring them into safe havens?”
Again, there was no response.
Pekah felt his face redden with irritation. His voice almost cracked with frustration as he pressed them again: “How long has it been? What has Daniel or Uzzah done to merit this aggression from one who should be their brother?”
The gray-bearded soldier stepped forward, and those around him parted like water. His boots stomped out echoes upon the stones of the courtyard, noises that seemed out of place as the rest of the soldiers stood in silence. He pulled at his beard, and then drew his belt dagger, pointing it in a most menacing fashion at Pekah. “You, my young son,” the soldier snarled, “have misplaced your trust in Daniel and Uzzah. Your Gideonite brethren have been oppressed for many years by the Danielite and his family. Manasseh himself, a man blessed by visions from heaven, was directed to ask for the scepter of judgment . . . and was denied. Daniel will not allow any other to hold or to possess it.”
Pekah stood dumbfounded at the audacity of the man. Young and inexperienced as he was, he knew full well Manasseh had no right to the scepter, and had certainly never “asked” for it. His plan was to take it forcibly. Captain Sachar himself had proven that fact as he murdered the rightful owner of the relic.
“You are misinformed,” Pekah fumed.
The old man bristled at the accusation, and stepped closer to the podium where Pekah stood.
Searching for support, Pekah saw he was now flanked on the left by Jonathan and Tavor, and on the other side by the general. Jasher’s teeth showed, his smile wide. The general’s expression startled Pekah, and he almost didn’t hear the response of the old soldier.
“General Rezon is the emperor’s servant,” the Gideonite soldier continued. “I was with Rezon personally when he asked the old Danielite judge for the scepter. Manasseh sent us to request it, and we were denied.”
“It’s true!” yelled another soldier. “I was with Kalev on that day.”
Recognition lit up Jonathan’s face. He pulled on Pekah’s sleeve, and he stepped back so they could talk privately. The crowd murmured.
“Pekah,” Jonathan whispered. “I remember this particular soldier. He rode into Hasor as part of the escort with General Rezon, many months previous. Word came to my father that the Gideonite emperor had sent a small band north for some unexplained reason. I hid in the palace gardens and watched them as they approached my father, who was pruning and grafting trees. The Gideonite men did request the scepter, but not in a diplomatic manner. From my place of hiding, I had an arrow trained on the general’s chest. Rezon threatened my father, saying that if we did not comply, he would return with a greater force to take it.”
“General Rezon demanded that it be given to him?”
“Yes, but my father replied that the scepter was not his to give.”
Pekah thanked Jonathan and stepped back toward the noisy crowd, mulling over the new information. He was annoyed by the half-truths spoken by the stubborn Gideonite. An idea formed in his mind. He pulled the pouch from around his neck, having nearly forgotten it still hung there. Carefully loosening the drawstrings of the bag, he removed the purple cloth within. After unrolling the rod, he lifted it high. It glittered in the late afternoon suns.
“Kalev, is this the scepter you were seeking?”
Gasps and whispers floated above the crowd like hovering bees.
Pekah stood with his arm outstretched. He moved the glass rod back and forth, causing reflections to spill in every direction. With a wry smile, Pekah stared at Kalev.
“I seem to have accomplished the very thing you claim could not be done, and I did not even ask for it! This scepter was placed in my hands by Jonathan, Daniel’s heir. I shall never forget his words. He said, ‘I am giving this to you, in hopes that it may be an instrument in convincing Manasseh to end his aggression toward our peoples.’ Jonathan told me I was to use it in trade for prisoners, if need be.”
Pekah now glared at the old soldier. “As you can see, Daniel does not have the scepter. Gideon does.”
Murmurs became arguments, and Pekah wondered if they were sounds of surprise or disdain. He peered over to get the general’s reaction. Jasher glowed with pride, almost as if Pekah were his son. Embarrassed, Pekah looked at the ground. He lowered the rod and returned it to its protective cover. With some degree of regained composure, Pekah threw one last barb.
“Even though the Danielite next to me has not asked for it to be returned, I do not claim The Thorn to be mine. It is certainly not yours.”
With that bold statement, the crowd erupted, unintelligible yells coming from some areas and cheers from others.
Kalev was furious. He fiddled with the pommel of the sword at his side, his gaze fixed on Jonathan. Pekah did not flinch. General Jasher moved up to the edge of the platform with hands raised, challenging the crowd.
“You have now seen what I have seen. Daniel is no aggressor. The emperor deceived us all. It is our duty to end this conflict. Pekah has joined with Daniel and Uzzah, as have I. Will you also join me?”
This time, there were far more Gideonite soldiers raising their arms in token than there had been a few minutes before. Still, in addition to Kalev, there were several other soldiers who gathered into a tighter group, refusing to accept Jasher’s challenge. Defiant, they stood in the midst, some with weapons drawn.
One of them, a few years younger and taller than Kalev, spoke up. “We . . . we will not. We are men of Gideon. We will not make an alliance with Danielites.”
After all the explanation and testimony given, this refusal angered Jasher. He loomed tall and menacing as he approached the very edge of the wooden platform. Shocked that Jasher’s authority as General of the Host of Gideon was being defied, Pekah leaned in, hoping to catch every word.
“You may have desires within your hearts to refuse, but as your commanding officer, I am now giving you an order. Gideon will march with Uzzah and Daniel to stop Rezon’s attack on the northern cities. Yet I cannot have dissenters in our midst. Therefore, I am giving you a choice: either you will return to your homes in peace and renounce this war until the end of your days, or you will be found guilty of sedition. You will forfeit your lives.” He paused. “What say you?”
The men he challenged shrank back, searching their friends for one who would lead out. Not one would. Fingers twitching on the pommel of his sword, it seemed as if Kalev was going to defy Jasher again. He gripped the sword tightly and looked about. Very few men stood with him. He grumbled. Stepping forward, he thrust out his hand. Jasher’s gaze locked with Kalev’s. The old soldier made his oath to return home, and the others joined him in the pledge. This appeased Jasher, and he promised them safe passage out of the city.
At this juncture, Jonathan took a step forward, and with his arm raised, said, “I will follow Jasher. He will be my protector, to lead me into safe havens.” This allusion to Father Gideon, founder of the tribe, drew a very positive reaction from the crowd.
An unknown soldier from within the group below tossed a Gideonite breastplate onto the platform, where it landed squarely at Jonathan’s feet. He did not hesitate in the least, but retrieved the armor and strapped it on.
Cheers flew skyward as soldier after soldier raised his arm in their traditional greeting, welcoming the Danielite into their midst. Several shouted encouraging words, and a few even waved swords in the air. Others joined together and cried aloud, “Health and prosperity to the heir of Daniel!”
Pekah’s jaw tightened, attempting to fight back the tears now welling in his eyes as he saw his new friend proudly wearing the Black Raven of Gideon.
Chapter 17
Bounty
Would you please join me in the general’s quarters? Our evening meal awaits—there is enough for all. General Jasher insists,” Amon said.
“Thank you.” Pekah immediately noticed his own hunger, his stomach growling.
“We would be honored,” Jonathan said.
Amon raised his voice and waved his hand to include Tavor and others standing nearby. “Please come, be filled, and rest before we depart for Saron in the morning.”
Once they were all seated around a group of mismatched tables in Jasher’s tent—a large reception area attached to the general’s sleeping quarters—Pekah breathed in the wonderful smells of the hot meal about to be served. He studied the guests around the table. Smiles were plentiful, and Rachel’s eyes exhibited pure delight, which Pekah surmised came from having both Jonathan and Eli safely there with her.
Content being among new friends, Pekah watched, intrigued by each of them. Eli teased Rachel, making her laugh. Jonathan leaned in close to whisper something that made her blush. Tavor had taken a seat next to Amon, and the two of them chatted amicably about various things pertaining to the events of the day.