by Daron Fraley
Jonathan relented. There was no way he could deny her, and he knew Eli couldn’t force her. “Rachel-thank you. The men will be grateful for your service.”
Her face still red, Rachel searched his eyes. “Good!” She mounted her steed, her look smug.
“Move out!” Amon gave the command above the crowd.
Jasher tromped up to the men and took Jonathan privately aside.
“I want you and your companions to ride with me near the banners of the tribes, if that’s acceptable.”
“It’s an honor,” Jonathan said as he tightened his Gideonite breastplate.
Once again, Jonathan’s ears filled with the rumble of hooves, a dust cloud rising above the riders. With the beautiful weather they were having, it seemed more like a family outing than a march to battle, but those false perceptions faded as the day dragged on. Several places along the Hasor road still exhibited signs of recent battles. Fresh gravesites reminded them all of the seriousness of their quest.
Late in the evening, the walled village of Hasor came into view. Jonathan pulled the reins back when Jasher signaled the advance units to halt. Far in the distance, just north of the village and outside its walls, loomed an exposed camp of Gideonites. Campfires there already burned, smoke drifting high into the air.
Jonathan retrieved his spyglass to get a better view of the enemy. Jasher did the same. Jonathan admired the general’s spyglass-ends of polished brass, cylinders of beautiful cherry wood, three telescoping sections-then lifted his own two-section scope, placing the sight to his eye.
The enemy camp was small, its soldiers easy to count. Jonathan estimated the band to be about forty men, none of whom paid any attention to the road from Saron. Finished counting, he reached to give Pekah the spyglass so he could look. Pekah scanned the camp briefly, then handed the scope back.
Jasher cleared his throat. In a low voice to his captains, he said, “ Thus it begins…”
Chapter 24
Messenger
Somewhere over the walls of Ramathaim, a cock crowed. The sound caused Rezon to roll over in his bedding with a groan. His head still hurt from the night before when he had spent the evening with his captains and drunk far too much. He pushed his sandy brown hair out of his eyes and stared up at the top of his center tent pole. He could just make it out in the growing light, surmising that the suns were about to appear over the western peaks of the Hara Range.
With some effort, he sat up and reached for the clean clothing lying on a stool near his bed of piled furs and blankets. He stood to dress. As he cinched his sword belt, he heard shouting in the camp. A posted guard popped in to report, giving a smart salute and then delivering his message like a springtime downpour.
“General Rezon, the catapult we pushed into position during the night has been attacked. Before we could use it, the Uzzahites saw it. It’s burning. A few men were injured, but none were killed.”
Rezon’s mouth twisted into a scowl. “Was it not protected?”
The guard stammered as he tried to describe the protections put in place, but gave up trying to excuse the incident. “Yes, but Uzzah hit us too hard and too fast.”
Rezon waved the soldier away, who saluted as he was dismissed. He reached for a crust of bread on his table, left over from the day before, and washed it down with the final drops in his wineskin. Temporarily satisfied, he loudly called for assistance. One of his captains entered the tent, bearing some hot breakfast. At the sight of the fresh eggs, fruit, and cheese, Rezon wondered why he had finished off the old bread.
“Gad,” Rezon said with a growl, “what is being done about the attack?”
Gad set the tray on the table. “Another two hundred men have been stationed to assist the front line. Five more catapults are being readied for use, and they will be pushed into position at the same time. I do not think Uzzah can stop them all.”
A smirk formed on the general’s face, but changed to a frown. He glared at Gad as if the captain were at fault for the previous mishaps with the siege engines. Gad stiffened.
“I will make sure they do not,” Rezon swore.
Gad left the tent, and Rezon sat to eat his breakfast. After pushing the empty plate away, he took the opportunity to inspect himself in a hand mirror. He retrieved his leather headband to pull his hair back, and then straightened the hem of his red tunic under his belt. The color of red on this first day of battle was intentional. He moved the mirror around to get a complete view, thinking that red did look good with his soot-colored cloak and black leather pants.
As he stood there admiring his appearance, his mind drifted to thoughts of his mother. He had her features. Even his sandy-brown hair color was similar to hers. He remembered her kindness-she had always been so patient. Rezon turned his face to the side, searching for some of her better traits. Perhaps they were there, but he couldn’t see them.
More like my father every day. He sometimes hated himself for that. His father had been a cruel, harsh man. Why can I not be more like my mother? His self-analysis always came to the same conclusion: People are weak. They do not understand kindness. They respond better to other methods.
Rezon shook the memories away.
My mother was weak.
He left the tent and looked past six other captains, who stood nearby, to see that the sister suns were well above the tall, round-topped mountain fronting the western slopes. He turned to inspect his best men and expressed his satisfaction. Girded for battle, their leather caps edged in bloodstained wool matched the exposed bottom linings of polished leather breastplates, each painted with the Raven of Gideon. Most of the breastplates were also adorned with jewels or trimmed with gold. The captains saluted in unison with hands raised high, and the general acknowledged them.
For the next hour, Rezon sat with his captains around the campfire before his pavilion, discussing the morning’s events and instructing them again on his strategy for the day. “Once the catapults are ready, I want them all pushed forward together. Jael and I will give orders from the observation hut. We will use the catapults to clear the defenses, then we will bring up the battering rams. When the gates fall, we will rush in to secure the outer wall. This will provide us the needed protection to attack the inner wall more freely.”
Returning from the front lines, Captain Gad hastened up to the group. “General, we are within an hour or two of completing enough tunnels and trenches to support the advance.”
“And the trenches are within striking distance of the wall for our archers?” Rezon asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Well done. We will attack today, when the sister suns are high in the sky,” he said. “I want to give the units assembling the war machines a little more time to finish all of them.”
Rezon paused and then said, “Once the forward trenches are complete, set our archers into position. Prepare your men. I will join you at the forward observation hut when it is rolled into place.”
The captains stood, saluted, and then left, except for Gad. He stayed behind to assist Rezon with any last-minute preparations for the attack. Numerous soldiers also came and went, performing various tasks and errands as Rezon and Gad discussed strategy over a hot drink.
About the time their cups were drained, a rider approached the pavilion area, his horse visibly failing and wheezing. A lather of sweat covered its mouth and chest, some of the froth dripping to the ground. The horse’s muscle tremors and wobbly legs caused the rider nearly to fall as he dismounted. Another soldier led the exhausted animal away. Rezon stood to receive the rider. As Zev approached, he frowned. “You rode that horse too hard.”
Zev saluted but did not respond. His eyes went to the pavilion.
Rezon understood. “Come with me.”
Upon entering the tent, the door flap was lowered, and Zev stood alone before General Rezon. Over the next few minutes, Zev described his journey with Ilan to Hasor, Saron, and the Geber Pass. He told of the various groups of Danielite soldiers they had to avoid
, and then of their uneventful passage through the mountains. As Zev told of the encounter with General Jasher when they reached the high point, and of the companions who traveled with Jasher, the general stiffened.
“Jasher was traveling with Danielites and Uzzahites… and women?”
“Yes, sir. They were definitely together. Many of the Danielites and Uzzahites were wearing Gideonite armor.”
“Where is Ilan?”
“I fear he is dead, sir. As I escaped, Ilan was captured by Jasher. Hoping he followed, I glanced back, but I saw him roll over onto his weapon.”
Rezon wandered over to his table and retrieved his goblet. He wanted to fill it, but instead just stood there, tapping the side of the cup with his finger. His clenched jaw made his teeth hurt. Distracted, he lifted the empty goblet to his lips to drink, but no refreshing liquid came forth. The lines in his forehead deepened.
“If Gideon is traveling with The Brothers, it can only mean one thing,” Rezon said as he slammed the empty goblet to the table. “Jasher of Bezek has already killed the emperor. He has somehow convinced those who should be in subjection to me, to support him as the new leader. I cannot fathom how he did it, but I see no other explanation.”
Zev nodded.
“Tell me again when this happened. How did you return so fast?”
Zev explained that he had ridden hard all day after meeting Jasher in the pass. To reach Ramathaim more quickly, he went through the hills in order to bypass Saron, and continued most of the night with just a few rests for his horse. During the last hour of the ride, he pushed the horse to its limit.
“My guess is that Jasher’s army left Saron just this morning,” Zev added.
“You have done well, my wolf. I would like to reward you for the speed at which you returned with this information.”
Rezon turned to his desk and removed a parchment sheet from the writer’s box there. With a raven’s quill, he wrote a hasty note, held a green wax stick to a candle flame, and melted a drop onto the bottom of the parchment. From his pocket he pulled a small medallion on a chain, which he pressed into the soft wax, then returned to his pocket.
Zev approached the desk and removed his belt. He slipped Rezon’s dagger from it, placing the sheathed weapon on the table.
“I’m sorry you have returned it unused,” Rezon said dryly. “But don’t worry-I will find another use for it.”
Rezon rolled the written message and tied it with a leather strap from his box.
“Take this to Jael of Maharai.”
“Yes, sir. I will.”
“Good. These are orders to make you a captain of fifty. Jael has been instructed to reassign you.”
Previously a captain of ten, Zev appeared to be excited by the promotion. He thanked the general, saluted, and left after being dismissed.
Rezon was pleased with the way Zev had demonstrated his total commitment.
“I will use him well,” Rezon said out loud, although no one was there to hear him. He unbuckled his belt so the returned dagger could hang there once again. After cinching his belt, he left the tent to return to the campfire. Gad was there, ready to deliver more news of the preparations. Rezon listened until Gad was finished.
“Zev, now a captain of fifty…” Rezon said with a long pause, waiting for the raised eyebrows of his third in command, “… was just here to inform me that Jasher of Bezek marches with Daniel and Uzzah out of Saron today.” Rezon did not use the title of “general” for Jasher, now that he considered Jasher a traitor to the cause.
“We have only two days before their arrival, then,” Gad calculated. “Unless they march through the night.”
Rezon held up two fingers. “But I think it will be two full days. The foolish man travels with women.”
Chapter 25
Mercy
Aqua and Azure swam high in a cloudless sky when Rezon’s first in command and Chief Captain of the Host, Jael of Maharai, arrived at the main pavilion in the center of the Gideonite encampment. Jael greeted Rezon warmly-not with the customary salute of all other soldiers, but with an embrace reserved for very close friends or brothers. Like complementary patterns of the same weave of cloth, they carried themselves in a similar manner, yet were a contrast in physical appearance.
Jael, large and stocky, also of mixed decent, had short-cropped, straight black hair. His facial features were more indicative of his Uzzahite lineage than his Gideonite heritage. Rezon, on the other hand, sported shoulder length sandy-brown hair and was of average height and build, his inherited Danielite features unmistakable.
“Rezon,” Jael said in a matter-of-fact tone, “I am anxious to begin. I want that wall down.”
“So do I. Like you, I’m ready to bring down the pride of Uzzah. I intend to make this city mine by tomorrow.”
Both men turned to see Gad approach and salute. Behind him were two other soldiers, one of whom held a rope. The other end of the short rope was tightly wrapped around the wrists of a terrified Uzzahite boy.
One of the soldiers whacked him behind the knees, and he fell to the ground.
“What is this?” Rezon demanded as he studied the boy, who was dressed in Uzzahite armor far too large for him.
“We found him hiding in some trees just east of here. He’s a spy.”
“I am no spy,” the boy said, trembling.
“Raise him,” commanded the general.
The two soldiers jerked the boy to his feet.
“How old are you?” Rezon asked.
“Twelve.” The boy seemed calmer.
“What is your name?”
“Daniel.”
“Daniel? A young Uzzahite warrior by the name of Daniel? Isn’t that precious. ”
The boy held his tongue.
“What are you doing here, if you are not a spy?” Rezon asked, his eyebrows low.
“I came to burn your catapult.”
Rezon laughed. His captains laughed with him.
“I am impressed by your courage. Do you know who I am?”
Daniel shook his head.
“I am Rezon, General of the Host of Gideon. This is my army. I am quite surprised to find you standing before me, alive. You must be a brave warrior to have come out here alone.”
Rezon looked to his captains and asked, “What shall we do with him?”
“Slit his throat,” Jael said, his eyes cold.
“He is a spy,” Gad added.
Rezon’s hands went up. “My countrymen, let us not be so hasty. This boy has spirit.”
He stepped closer so he could lift Daniel’s chin. He gazed into the boy’s eyes and saw both fear and determination. He let go and stepped back. “Who am I to prevent this young man from accomplishing his mission as a spy? Somebody, give me a solar.”
One of the soldiers guarding Daniel jumped forward and handed the general a Gideonite coin, then stood as if he expected some sort of gratitude. Rezon waved him away.
“Boy, take this coin as your payment. You are now an emissary of Gideon. Return to your city. Tell them everything you have seen here. Tell your leaders that I intend to attack today.”
Rezon closed Daniel’s hand around the coin. Daniel didn’t flinch.
“Let him go at the edge of camp. Inform the archers that he is not to be harmed.”
“Yes, sir,” answered Gad.
Rezon and Jael watched as the three soldiers stopped to talk with one of the archer captains. Once the orders were relayed, Gad took the boy past the siege engines, through the front lines, and out onto the road leading to the main gate. When they cut his bonds, the boy ran. A hand to his forehead to shield his eyes, Rezon was amused when he saw the boy stop in the distance and turn to face the army, his arm cocked back. Light glinted off the coin as it sailed through the air to land near one of the catapults. Spotters on the wall signaled for the door to open, and Daniel ran the rest of the way to disappear through the gate.
I can be kind-even merciful, Rezon thought, praising himself. He returned to hi
s tent.
An hour later, Rezon stood next to Jael in the safety of a three-walled observation hut placed behind the front line. Anxious, he shifted on his feet and shook his head.
“Where is Gad?” Rezon demanded, irritated.
His face red, Jael did not answer, but stared out from under the propped-up cover of the window facing the city.
The sound of boots near the hut caught Rezon’s attention. He turned to see Gad appear at the opening of the hut.
“General, we are ready.”
“I hope so, because the suns do not travel backward.”
“I know, General. I’m sorry for the delay. But the troops are ready now.”
Rezon turned back to the window as Gad hurried away on another errand. “Jael, hit them hard.”
Jael reached out the window and dropped his hand in signal. A single horn sounded, then others repeated up and down the line.
All at once, six catapults were shoved into position by several hundred men and fired in unison. The first large stones and iron balls hit the top of the outer wall of the Holy City of Uzzah like a thunderclap. Two protective merlons crumbled, exposing a section of the walkway.
Using his spyglass, Rezon saw a spotter run for cover on the wall, one of Gad’s archers barely missing the man. Behind the battlements where the spotter now hid, a volley of flaming arrows from Uzzahite archers whistled high into the sky. Gad’s shouted commands caused an immediate response from those protecting the siege engines. A mass of men in green tunics swarmed over the catapults, and large shields were raised. Most of the incoming fiery bolts bounced harmlessly to the ground. The remaining fire-arrows that did hit their intended mark were easily doused.
Shielded by other soldiers, teams of strong, muscular Gideonites cranked the arms of the war machines back into firing position. The men were fresh, and they were able to ready, load, and fire each catapult at the rate of about three times an hour. The teams worked tirelessly-cranking, aiming, firing. As the day passed, frustration set in. Merlons were easy to knock down, but the solid stone blocks of the wall proved to be much more difficult, with most projectiles only chipping chunks from the thick barrier.