The Daggerman
Copyright 2019 by Glenn Starkey
Cover designs by Jake Starkey, www.BattleCryRevival.com
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electrical or mechanical, including photography, recording, or by any information or retrieval system without written permission of the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in reviews.
Scriptures from the Holy Bible are KJV, public domain, and from multiple public sources.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, places, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
ISBN (print) 978-1-54397-077-7
ISBN (E-book) 978-1-54397-078-4
Books by Glenn Starkey
BLACK SUN
“Gold Medal 2016 Historical Fiction Award” —Military Writers Society of America
“…It was Glenn Starkey’s ability to capture humanity at its worst and at its very best that touched me so deeply… Where some authors write a great story you can’t put down, Glenn Starkey weaves a richly coloured tapestry and breathes life into every thread of the story. Every sentence, every paragraph, every description, and every character matters...”
“2016 Readers Favorite 5 Star Review” —Readers Favorite.com
SOLOMON’S MEN
“… genuinely suspenseful… a cascade of power struggles… Exciting and unpredictable, Solomon’s Men is highly recommended as an original action/adventure thriller.”
—The Midwest Book Review
“Silver Medal 2012 Mystery/Thriller Award”
—Military Writers Society of America
“... one thing I can say with certainty is that if Glenn Starkey’s name is on a book, I’m reading it!” —“2017 Readers Favorite 5 Star Review” —Readers Favorite.Com
THE HONJO
Sequel to SOLOMON’S MEN. New Release!
THE COUNCILMAN
New Release!
AMAZON MOON
“Notable Indie Book of 2013 Award” —Shelf Unbound Magazine
“Bronze Medal 2014 Thriller/Mystery Award”
—Military Writers Society of America
“… This would be one incredible action movie for sure! ‘Amazon Moon’ is deeply layered in emotions and themes of both revenge and redemption. The human elements of his characters are sharply focused but layered as well…”
—W. H. McDonald Jr., American Authors Association
“Amazon Moon is the sort of novel that grabs you by the throat on the first page and doesn’t let go until the last. It is an exciting story and, at the same time, something more. It is a fable about one man’s redemption, his rediscovery of innocence.”
—Nicholas Guild – New York Times Best Selling Author
The Spartan Dagger, The Ironsmith, Blood Ties, The Assyrian, Blood Star…and more.
MR. CHARON
“One of the evident appeals of Mr. Charon is Starkey’s descriptive prose. It gives vivid pictures of the surroundings and moves the story flawlessly, which also contributes to the plot’s deft execution. The classic good versus evil theme mixed with love, hate, and redemption makes Mr. Charon a great read.”
“2016 Readers Favorite 5 Star Review” —Readers Favorite.Com
YEAR OF THE RAM
“… it felt as if a hand had made its way out of the novel, gently grabbed me around the neck and pulled me into its story until such time as what was being told had come to an end. After accomplishing what it set out to do, the hand would then draw me out of the world I was in, pat my cheek, and disappear leaving me sitting there in wonder…”
—Sandra Valente, Novel Review Café
THE COBRA AND SCARAB: A NOVEL OF ANCIENT EGYPT
“… Rich, vibrant, descriptive language. Characters with depth, imbued with loyalty, courage and strength or touched with madness for power and evincing raw brutality. Treachery, betrayal, intrigue at every turn…”
– Amazon.com - Five Star Review
STEEL JUNGLE
“…Terrific read. Talented writer. Recommending it to my friends. So easy to understand how this could happen. Scary…”
—Amazon.com – Five Star Review
Non-Fiction:
THROUGH THE STORMS: THE JOHN G. SLOVER DIARY
Edited by Glenn Starkey for the Alvin Museum Society
“…An important and valuable work…genuinely impressed with the completeness of the manuscript, as well as its organization…a work that, in my view, combines both the best of first-person observations and conventional historical narrative to understand Slover’s experiences as part of the larger sweep of American history during that period.”
—Andrew W. Hall, author, historian, DeadConfederates.com - Civil War Blog, and regional Marine Archaeological Steward for the Texas Historical Commission
Dedicated to
Donna, Jake, Cindy, and Caleb whom are God’s daily blessings upon me.
Tony and Ludwig for safeguarding and educating so many pilgrims.
Pastor Tim and Pastor Howard—true men of faith, guided by God...
“... If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink. He that believeth in me, as the scripture hath said, out of his innermost being shall flow rivers of living water...”
John 7:37-38
“... Be strong in the Lord, and in his might. Put on the whole armor of God, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil...”
Ephesians 6:10-11
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Epilogue
About the Author
Chapter One
5 B.C.
Near Bethlehem, District of Judea
A full moon painted the cold, desolate landscape with ample light to see the slopes of surrounding hills. As the three magi, each an esteemed astrologer from the eastern Babylonian school, traveled with their servants and watched the sky, they debated their divinations and calculations until the moment a star rose with a brilliance never witnessed by man. They had charted the coming of a magnificent star that would mark great change, a shift in mankind, and announce the birth of a new king. Now, sitting upon their camels, gazing at its wonder, there were no longer doubts as to the accuracy of their foretelling.
Consulting his counselors about the prophecies, Herod the Great at his Jerusalem palace had directed the magi toward Bethlehem when they spoke of the star and asked where the newborn ‘King of the Jews’ lives. Their audience with Herod had left them ill-at-ease when he requested to be told of the newborn’s whereabouts so he too may go pay homage to the child. But in the nights that followed their dreams warned them against such an action, and
they agreed as one not to advise him.
Resting for the night the magi Belsharusur, Melchior, and Gadaspar sat wrapped in thick wool cloaks about their campfire, observing the star’s trek across the sky. When it appeared to halt over the next city ahead, they knew then that by the next morning their search for the newborn king would draw to an end.
***
Walking and riding a donkey the ninety miles from Nazareth in the district of Galilee to Bethlehem, the city of David in Judea, had worn heavily upon Miriam, Josef’s young wife. The child she carried was due any day. Every jarring step taken upon the rocky, unlevel landscapes, worried Josef that the baby would be born in the wilderness. But they safely arrived at his relative’s home yet with little time to spare for her.
The Emperor Augustus’ decree for all within Roman rule to be registered had forced the trip upon Josef and his fourteen-year-old wife. Without such an order he would never have attempted the hazardous journey with her. The mass influx of people for registration took every available room in the city. The kataluma, the second-floor chamber of his cousin’s stone and mud-brick home on the outskirts of Bethlehem was far too small for Miriam when her hour came. Yet no relative turned another away in need, especially a pregnant woman. Yigael, Josef’s cousin, gave them use of the first floor’s room that served the family by day and sheltered their few livestock in the adjoining sheepfold at night from predators and thieves.
Face growing pale, Miriam held her stomach. A wet spot appeared on her tunic and spread along her legs. She winced and although frightened, struggled to be brave for her nervous husband. Reaching out, she squeezed Josef’s hands, faintly smiled, and gave a partial nod.
“I believe it’s time.” Bottom lip curling inward, she flinched and laid her hands once more upon her stomach. Drawing a deep breath, she exhaled and tried to calm.
Josef had piled fresh hay for the animals in their pen and cleaned their manger to use the stone feeding trough as the newborn’s cradle. Hearing her labored breathing, he hurriedly spread blankets over a thick bed of hay for Miriam’s comfort and eased her down onto them.
“She is young and strong, Josef,” Leah said to bolster his spirit as she walked down the narrow steps from the second floor. The older woman went about lighting more oil lamps until satisfied. “Our God, Elohim, will help her through tonight. With His blessing, your son or daughter will be born by dawn.”
Gaze drifting from Miriam to his cousin’s wife, Josef stood silent. But the child is not mine... and will be a boy—the Messiah. Gabriel, Elohim’s messenger told me so in a dream... Miriam’s still a virgin and conceived through the Holy Spirit, he thought, wanting to tell Leah. He knew, though, if he did, only confusion and endless questions would rise—and he himself was still overwhelmed by the revelations.
On the blankets Miriam grimaced and clenched her teeth. Her face flushed as she clutched her stomach. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead and when the contraction passed, she gasped for breath and looked at Josef. Tears rimmed her dark eyes and fear painted her youthful face. The front door opened. A shawl wrapped woman walked in and went to Miriam’s side.
“I sent for my neighbor to help me,” Leah said, glancing over her shoulder at Josef as she knelt by Miriam. “Go outside. Wait until I call you. There’s nothing more you can do here.”
Josef lightly nodded in acknowledgment but stood a moment longer to watch. Leah moved to between Miriam’s legs, bent them and eased the hem of the girl’s robe over her knees and back onto her stomach. Pausing, Leah gave him a stern look and swung a hand toward the door.
“Go,” she ordered and returned her attention to the young woman.
With a last look about the makeshift stable, Josef shook his head in exasperation and walked out. Is this how the Anointed One is to be born—among beasts of the field and upon hay spread over a dirt floor? Stepping out into the cold night’s bright moonlight, his gaze swept the crowd that was silently gathering before Yigael’s house.
“Has He arrived?” a bent-postured old man gently asked, holding his tattered gray cloak tight at the chest to keep it about his head and body. The people around the elder pressed forward to listen to Josef’s reply.
Dumbfounded, Josef scanned the anxious faces staring at him then raised his gaze to the sky. Directly above was a mysterious, shimmering star with resplendent streaks of light radiating from it.
“No, not yet, but He is coming,” Josef softly said, peace consuming his heart for the first time in weeks.
Back and away from the gathering stood a solitary, ominous figure draped in a thick, dark cloak, the hood on his head masking moonlight from his face. Over the heads of the people Josef saw the man standing off to himself, looking at him. In time the man lifted his face toward the star, scowled, and gradually lowered his gaze to stare at Josef once more. The cloak’s hood slipped from his bald head and the moon’s light displayed a hardened, wrinkled face with deep-set, penetrating eyes of a murky yellowish tint. Two bony hands rose and long, slender fingers eased the hood back onto his head. The hideous face vanished within the cowl’s black shadow again.
Two hours passed before a woman’s anguished cry carried from within the house. Turning to the door Josef recognized Miriam’s voice quickly followed by the wail of a newborn. His first impulse was to rush to her, but he restrained himself knowing Leah would summon him when the time was right. He raised his gaze to the brilliant star and let it drift to the crowd of anxious people. The dark cloaked figure was gone.
When Josef felt as if time had drawn to a halt, the door opened slightly.
Leah stood smiling. “Come, Josef, see your son.”
Wheeling to face the crowd, Josef proudly raised his arms into the air.
“Praise Elohim! He is born!” he jubilantly shouted then burst into the room.
***
5 B.C.
Caesarea Maritima, District of Samaria
The hour was long past the mid of night and the moonlit streets of Caesarea Maritima were barren at every turn. Even the Roman legionnaires had grown weary of whoring and drinking and returned to their barracks. The city was uncommonly quiet except for an occasional bark of a dog.
“Why do babies never come during the day?” Johanna asked, grumbling as she walked, pulling her faded blue cloak tighter about her to ward off the penetrating chill in the night air. Before turning into a shadow-filled, stone paved alley, she gazed at the rare star shining in the distant sky.
“My old eyes have witnessed many things both good and bad, yet I’ve never seen a star such as that before,” she whispered to herself. “What sign could it be?”
Shrugging at her thoughts, Johanna started along the narrow alley lined with decrepit doors. A soft clatter carried through the night, making her turn to look. The black silhouette of a cloaked man could be seen standing at the street corner she had come from. Fearing he was a robber, she hurried along the alley, her sandals clacking on the stones with each quick step. Glancing back, she no longer saw the man and slowed her pace. Relieved, she ran her right hand over the wall by a door. Her fingers found the deep cut, identifying marks of the brothel she sought. Within two knocks upon its door, a dirty-faced woman of thirty in a threadbare tunic and ragged robe, opened it and ushered her to the rear of the building.
Johanna entered a dimly lit storage room. The stench of stale wine and musty, soiled cloths struck her. She ordered her escort to light more lamps. The cramped room brightened, and the elderly mid-wife recognized the sweat drenched Jewish girl laying atop filthy blankets on the dirt floor. Enough room for the young woman to lay was cleared among broken baskets, cracked pottery dishes, a pile of blotch stained blankets and empty wine jars. In her mouth was a strip of leather she’d been biting to hold back her screams of pain to avoid waking the other prostitutes, sinners as the townspeople named them. Kneeling beside her, Johanna gently laid her right hand upon the pregnant woman�
�s stomach and rubbed it, feeling the movement within.
“Your time has finally come, Mira,” Johanna kindly said, looking at the girl of seventeen years. “How many hours has it been since your water broke and the contractions began?”
“Four, maybe five,” the girl answered between gasping breaths. “Get this whelp out of me. It’s burdened me long enough.” Mira’s face was a mask of resentment as she gazed at her rotund stomach.
“The price is a silver coin for difficult births such as this. The baby has turned. I will have to reach in to guide the child out.”
Mira grimaced at the pain engulfing her. “And what is the price to take it out into the desert and leave it for the jackals?” she asked when the agony subsided.
“Because of the late hour and danger I must undergo—.”
“I don’t care about your danger. What price do you demand?”
Years of performing her services for the sinners had hardened Johanna, but Mira’s heart was colder than the desert’s worst winter night.
“Four silver coins.”
Reaching beneath her blanket, Mira pulled the coins out and tossed them onto Johanna’s lap. “Do it,” she ordered, replacing the leather in her mouth as she laid back.
The mid-wife positioned herself between Mira’s legs, cast the girl’s tattered robe back onto her stomach and probed for the baby with her right hand. Muffled cries of misery came from Mira as the mid-wife worked. Unable to stand the sight of blood oozing from Mira onto Johanna’s arm, the dirty-faced escort fled the room.
Johanna coached Mira along then when all was ready, ordered her to push the baby out. The minutes passed like hours but soon a baby’s cry came. The mid-wife swiped the excess blood from the infant’s face and lifted it into the air.
“Hold your son while I cut and tie the mother-child cord.”
Mira opened her mouth and spit the leather away. She breathed in deep panting blasts and turned her head to avoid seeing the infant. Hair soaked from sweat, strands stuck to Mira’s face. “I want nothing to do with him—and make him be silent before he wakes the entire house.”
The Daggerman Page 1