by Daron Fraley
“Are there only two rams?” Rezon asked Jael.
“Yes. More are being constructed, but these are the only two ready.”
“Well, we cannot wait for others to be built. Keep them rolling.”
Now twitching with anger as he thought of the approaching united army, Rezon turned back to the messenger who had not been dismissed. His ire boiled over.
“Get out of my sight or be flogged!”
Looking confused, the messenger ran off without saluting.
Rezon stepped out of the hut to kick a helmet lying on the ground near him, sending it into a nearby trench that stretched up to the front lines.
Gad approached the hut, and Jael passed on the orders.
“Get those rams ready to advance!” Gad shouted to the front line.
* * *
Puffs of white smoke rose from the Rock of Sacrifice as the remains of an offering finally surrendered to the flames below. Boaz and Uzziel both knelt before the altar, heads bowed in reverent prayer. They had been there for quite some time, but their knees were not uncomfortable as they rested upon white cushions. Other priests serving at the temple went about their duties, but none of them disturbed the two aged men praying before the altar.
As if they sensed the sacrifice was complete, Boaz and Uzziel opened their eyes at the same time.
“What do you feel?” asked the High Priest of Uzzah.
“Uzziel, I had the strangest thought,” Boaz answered “I had the distinct impression that Jeremy needs to assemble the Host of Uzzah in the streets of the city. They need to be ready right now. I think something is going to happen soon that will make the enemy more vulnerable to us. I don’t know how it will be done, but we need to be ready.”
Uzziel thought for a minute, recognizing that his own feelings were similar—to muster the army right away. “I will send the message to Captain Jeremy at once,” Uzziel said as he stood up from his prayer and brushed his white robe free of wrinkles.
“The temple priests will be armed, and then we’ll join you.” Boaz retrieved the cushions, handing them to another priest who came to assist.
“Meet me at the inner gates. I think we should be assembled within the hour.”
“I agree.”
With that, the High Priest of Uzzah trotted off toward the archway that led to the markets of Ramathaim.
* * *
“What do you see?” Amon whispered as he stood behind Captain Mehida and Jonathan, who were using their spyglasses to observe the enemy assembled on the hills of Ramathaim.
“There are about four thousand men with Rezon,” Jonathan replied.
“It may even be nearer to five thousand, and they have several siege weapons in position,” Captain Mehida added.
Amon shook his head with a sigh. His heart felt like a heavy stone in his chest. “We are outnumbered almost two to one.”
Arms crossed in a defiant manner, Eli loudly cleared his throat to get Amon’s attention. “No disrespect, General, but Uzzah is behind those walls. Our numbers are at least equal, and we have an advantage—our people defend their homes. Rezon will not stand.”
Amon didn’t take offense at the comment. “I apologize. You’re right, Eli—Uzzah will fight as no other warriors can. This is your home. My only worry . . . I’m not sure how to let your people know we’re here. We will need their help.”
Eli and Tavor both regarded each other, and then laughed.
“Oh, they’ll know,” Tavor said. “Eli’s father is the High Priest of Uzzah. He will be ready to help.”
Amon wasn’t sure how the priests of Uzzah would know, but he thanked the men for their confidence. Motioning the captains to gather closer, he bent on one knee and used a thin rock to draw in the dirt. He started with marks for the enemy.
“Rezon’s army is here. We need to give the appearance of numbers. Place your men along a line from here to here. This will also give us more room to fight. Ezra?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Take a rear-guard position and keep the women with you. I would like the balance of your horsemen to act as messengers. If the front line falters, send groups of ten and fifty as required to strengthen it.”
“And if the battle goes poorly?”
Amon paused. “Take the women to safety, back to Hasor or Saron.”
“I will keep them safe.”
“Very well. We still need to get a little closer before we can plan our attack. I want to see if I can figure out how Rezon plans to protect the siege engines. Are each of you in agreement?”
All captains present supported the decision. They quickly dispersed to retrieve their horses and gather their men. Amon gave orders to advance. Vigorously waving the banners of the Three Brothers, the army lurched forward, dust and the rumble of thousands of feet floating skyward.
As they closed on Rezon’s position, Amon gave the order for the bowmen to be at the ready for a volley into the enemy’s ranks if they charged. Spotters at the perimeters of the advance signaled that the way remained clear before them. The march slowed, but they pressed on until they came to a halt just outside of bow range for Rezon’s army. Companies of fifties and hundreds stood in their ranks and waited for Amon’s command to rush the enemy. Jonathan and Mehida dismounted and again stood at the front to observe the enemy Gideonites. Amon took the time to retrieve his own spyglass. Pekah saw it and commented on the workmanship.
“My field-scope and Jasher’s were made at the same time, by the same craftsman,” Amon noted. “They were presented to us by the emp . . . I mean, Manasseh, when we embarked on this . . .”
Amon could not find the word he wished to use. “Adventure,” came to mind, which had been used by Manasseh himself. But the idea that this unwarranted aggression was an adventure now seemed a poorly chosen description.
He did not finish his sentence. Instead, he peered earnestly through his field telescope, hoping to discover some apparent weakness in Rezon’s organized ranks. Seeing nothing obvious at first, his gaze finally settled on one area of the battlefield. Trenches had been dug all around the hills, but the siege weapons themselves were stationed in a wide, central pathway between the trenches.
“Do you see where the siege weapons are?” the general asked.
“Yes,” Mehida answered. “They have prevented themselves from moving the engines in any direction but north and south.”
“I think we may be able to use those machines to prevent the army from assembling in a large body. Their own machines and trenches block the way.”
Jonathan tapped the general on the shoulder and pointed to a spot just past a wooden hut. “General, look—Rezon is pushing battering rams into position near the front gates, and sustaining considerable losses from the bowmen of Uzzah.”
Amon looked again and saw the advancing rams. Gideonite captains shouted, shields were lifted, and most arrows were deflected, but some were not. Amon’s gaze fell on the hut. He recognized Rezon and Jael standing with the others. Rezon continued to watch the rams, even though many of his men turned to look back at Amon’s army. Amon was surprised.
“Rezon seems to be ignoring us! Does he think we will not attack?”
Disdain in his voice, Mehida said, “Rezon is arrogant. He knows we’re here. Perhaps he feels you’ll wait until he makes the first move. Or maybe he’s trying to cause us concern, making us wonder what he’s doing.”
“Perhaps you’re right. I’d wager he has other weapons we haven’t seen,” Amon replied.
Rezon did seem overly calm for being caught between a united army and the city walls. If Amon were in that position, he would turn and attack immediately. Rezon’s behavior made no sense. Amon shook his head.
“We should rush the location of the siege weapons before they can formulate a counter-attack,” Mehida suggested. “Then we’ll have a way to defend a central location from Rezon’s army—the machines and trenches can provide cover for our men.”
“That’s a good plan,” Amon readily agreed. �
��Pass the word among your men. Then let’s ride!”
Amon returned to his horse and watched as his captains immediately rode from company to company with specific orders for each group. When they returned to their places, Amon gave the signal. The Army of Brothers charged forward with swords glinting in the suns-light. Their unified shout turned to thunder, causing the Army of Rezon, many of whom had pretended to ignore them, to turn completely about to meet the charge.
“Bowmen at the ready!” Amon bellowed as he rose in his stirrups, his steed in a slow trot behind running foot soldiers.
The front line of footmen closed the distance by half.
Amon yelled for the bowmen behind the rushing soldiers to release, and a volley of arrows arced over the charging men toward their intended targets. Just as the arrows began their hurtling descent, the front line of Rezon’s men jumped into the trenches and pulled large shields above their heads. Very few arrows met their mark, but instead, bounced off the protective covers that had been deployed. Rezon’s soldiers then clamored out of the trenches again. They too charged with weapons swinging.
The two armies met, and the clash was deafening. Yells of anger, pain, and exertion shot up from the crowd amidst the clangs, pops, thuds, and booms caused by colliding weapons. Like the explosive spray from a high wave slamming into a sea cliff, the front lines furiously collided, the severity of the sudden encounter rippling outward into the ranks of both armies until all were engulfed.
Amon’s men pushed forward, trying to gain access to the war machines of Rezon, but were repulsed. They fell back momentarily, only to push forward again. Their second surge was even less successful than the first. Rezon’s men strongly leaned into Amon’s army, causing the line to break against a wall of resistance. The Brothers fell back once again, and Rezon’s troops rushed forward with their might. It was then that General Amon realized he had made a critical error in his planning.
The Gideonites of Rezon tumbled into the host of The Brothers like the boulders of a rock slide, and when they came to a standstill, only a careful observer could still distinguish them from the similarly armored Gideonites in Amon’s army. Chaos ensued. The battle slowed considerably as the soldiers hesitated at each confrontation to determine if the potential opponent was friend or foe. Captains on both sides continued to shout their commands, and in some cases, the differentiation between Rezon and Amon was determined solely by which command each man would obey.
It was at this point of great confusion that Captain Mehida lifted his sword skyward and yelled with all his vocal strength, “For Daniel and Uzzah!”
“FOR DANIEL AND UZZAH!” came the thunderous echo from Amon’s army. They again charged forward, pushing Rezon’s troops back with such fury that the Gideonites who had been pledged to the service of Rezon and the late emperor began to melt before them.
Amon raised himself high in the stirrups so he could better see the battering rams near the walls of Ramathaim. He realized that all the Gideonites who had been moving the siege weapons toward their intended goal had abandoned their posts—now running down the slopes to join the raging battle below. To Amon’s great surprise, the unsuspecting soldiers of Rezon were being followed. Both the front gates of the outer wall and the sally port on the western end of the stone curtain gaped open, coughing up hundreds of Uzzahite warriors who gathered into tight groups. Amon sat back down in the saddle and called some horseback messengers to his side.
“Tell the captains to prepare a charge!”
The messengers rushed on their errand while Amon scanned the slopes. Wanting to be sure he kept track of Rezon’s whereabouts, he again scrutinized the center of the field. There he found the target of his own indignation.
His back to the hut placed there for his protection, Rezon stood next to the catapults, Captain Jael at his side. Both shouted commands at the rate of a flash flood. Rezon’s captains turned their troops from flank to point as if they were the spiked iron ball swinging from the end of the general’s long-chained flail. This change in direction caused Amon’s men to fall out of ranks.
Amon anxiously searched for the messengers and found one of them who had navigated his way through the sea of soldiers toward Captain Pekah. When the messenger arrived, he shook a signal flag in the air. This initiated another battle cry, echoed by the entire host.
“For Daniel and Uzzah!”
To the obvious surprise of Rezon’s army came the roar of fifty silvered horns. The blast of sound bounced back and forth between the shouldering mountains of the city and rolled down the hillsides to the ears of everyone below. All heads turned to see the gates of Ramathaim open. A united voice of over two thousand Uzzahites then punctuated their sudden arrival with, “For UZZAH and DANIEL and GIDEON!”
Amon’s heart swelled with joy as he witnessed the brave men of Uzzah charge into the fray. He pulled his spyglass up to his eye in time to see a third of the Gideonites of Rezon turn back to protect their leaders. They clashed with Uzzah just as both parties reached the war machines. Amon trained his sight on the war hut.
At the center of the battle, Captain Jael seethed with hatred. In great sweeping arcs, Jael swung his large sword back and forth, clearing the ground before him as if he were cutting wheat with a scythe. Rezon remained protected from the battle, his most trusted and deadly servants bringing a sudden, painful end to the lives of all who opposed them. The fury that was visible in their faces caused Amon to catch his breath and look to his own men.
The Brothers fought like a lioness protecting her cubs, while the warriors of Ramathaim ignited a scene of terror for the minions of the emperor as they fell upon them with swift vengeance. Working together to press the enemy, Amon’s thousands surged toward the Uzzahites on the eastern flank in an attempt to hem the Gideonites in on three sides. When they finally met, they cheered for each other as the two armies merged to become one. Now vastly outnumbered, Rezon’s soldiers began to surrender in masses.
Seeing weapons dropping to the ground like hail, Amon ordered an immediate halt to the bloodshed. The Uzzahites of Ramathaim and the Army of The Brothers both fell back, allowing the nearly surrounded Gideonites to retreat to the base of Bald Mountain that rose out of the west slope of the plain. The united front then pushed forward with weapons brandishing, trapping Rezon and his faithful against the mountain backdrop. Hundreds of others surrendered. These were quickly separated from the enemy and deprived of all weapons.
Amon surveyed the carnage, sorrow filling his breast. The dead and wounded lay all around him, the smell of blood overpowering. With so many cries for help assaulting his ears, he called for Ezra’s company to assist with their care. To the other captains he yelled, “Tighten the line, and keep Rezon where he is!”
Watching their progress for only a moment, Amon then called his advisors to his side. Accompanied by Jonathan and Eli, they gathered and pressed forward to join him. Like a boat parting water before its bow, their horses cut through the ranks until they found a place on the edge of the semi-circle of soldiers surrounding Rezon’s men. Every man among The Brothers saluted them as they advanced. Once at the edge, they all dismounted and stood in a group to face Rezon and Jael, both near the front of the captured Gideonites. The hatred in their faces seemed to be chiseled into their features.
Amon grunted. He could not keep himself from imagining the difficulty that a man as arrogant as Rezon would be having at a time like this. The irony of it all struck him as being humorous. Rezon had been captured by an army comprised of his enemies and his onetime friends.
With the shouting of orders and the sound of battle now drifting away in the breeze, only the moans of the dying and the discomfort of the wounded reached Amon’s ears. Some of the women from Ezra’s company and many Uzzahites from the city hovered over the fallen wounded, tending to their needs, protected as they went by soldiers from every tribe. He looked around at the ranks of an army standing in silence, who waited for him to speak to the conquered. Fierce determination shon
e on their faces. He turned back to Rezon, intent on declaring an end to the war, but Rezon took a few steps forward, away from the protection of his men. He spoke first.
“Captain Amon, I should be pleased to see you,” Rezon nearly shouted, his voice stinging Amon like a wasp. “But I am not. You have sold yourself to the enemy.”
Amon did not flinch. He watched as Rezon stroked the clean blade of his sword as if he were testing the sharpness of the edge.
“Sold myself? I have no idea what you mean. I received no money for what I have done.”
Rezon’s eyes closed to mere slits, and he spat upon the ground. “Surely you are not accusing me of something, my brother?”
Amon’s thoughts shifted to the demise of Manasseh. Powerful memories of the incredible experience caused him to speak with boldness. “I was, at one time, part of those who would have accused the innocent. That much I do admit. But I never have taken money in exchange for the life of another.”
Amon paused, then clarified his statement with burning vitriol in his voice, “You are filth, Rezon. I have learned of your treachery. Jasher of Bezek now lies in his grave because of your lust for power.”
Rezon winced. Amon felt sure it was feigned.
“What of Jasher’s lust for power? Did he not murder the emperor? And what of yourself, Amon of Gilad? Is that not why you are here, to take control of the whole Host of Gideon yourself?”
Amon watched Jael, who twisted his long sword in his hands, clearly agitated.
These two disgust me, Amon thought. Looking to his right and to his left, he witnessed many of those same feelings written in plain language all over the faces of his captains and friends. This filled him with hope. An eager desire welled up in him to shout out the tale of Manasseh’s death as far as he could spread the news. But Amon felt this particular telling was not for him to do. The opportunity belonged to the other men who had been present on that occasion. The men of Gideon need to hear it from the two Brothers who have united us all.