Promises
Jonathan broke the silence. “My father was slain.”
Eli exhaled. “I know. I saw him.”
“You were there? Tell me what you saw!”
Eli’s face filled with sorrow. Light from the moons above glistened upon his wet cheeks as tears tumbled from his green eyes and into his scruffy red beard. Jonathan’s own eyes blurred as Eli rubbed his eyes dry.
“I am so sorry, Jonathan,” Eli said with emotion. “This morning, after a speedy march with a group of eight other Uzzahite warriors, Tavor and I arrived at Hasor just as the suns were rising. I had hoped to assist you in your defense. However, my fears of arriving too late were confirmed as we approached the village walls. We came down from the north road, and when the east gate came into view, we found the heavy doors destroyed. The entire village had been deserted.”
“I think they were all taken prisoner,” Jonathan interjected as he wiped his cheeks with the backs of his hands.
“I think you’re right,” Eli confirmed. “We had seen a very large contingent of soldiers escorting a group of at least two hundred men, women, and children due west toward Saron the previous evening. We believe they were going to use the Geber Pass to get to Ain. Our scouts confirmed that Ain was taken just four days ago.”
Eli paused and crossed his arms as if to allow Jonathan time to absorb the new information.
“Father and I suspected Ain had already been captured, but we did not know for sure.” Jonathan let out a deep sigh, then pursed his lips. Confusion replaced his anger. “If you found the village deserted, how did you get mixed up with the Gideonite soldiers?”
“I sent most of my men to check the garden gate while I took Tavor with me to check out the temple, palace, and hall. The temple seemed to be undisturbed. Obviously the Gideonites were not after gold candlesticks that day.”
Jonathan managed a thin smile at this somewhat positive news.
“When I got to the hall, I found your father in the Council Room.” Eli placed his hand on Jonathan’s shoulder. “I sent Tavor to call the other men, and then the ten of us carried him out the broken gates into the olive garden. We found some shovels in the gardener’s hut. Jonathan, we laid him under your favorite olive tree.”
Tears were visible in Eli’s eyes again, and Jonathan’s own sorrow pulled his head low. He felt the strong squeeze of Eli’s hand on his arm. He looked up, again wiping his face with his hands. “Thank you, Eli. You did my father a great service.”
“I loved him too, Jonathan.”
Eli paused, but then explained that after their very emotional ceremony for Samuel, they split up to cover the entire village to be sure there were no survivors within the walls.
“When we met back at the hall, we thought it peculiar that we did not find any other bodies in the entire village. There were evidences everywhere of intense fighting when the village was overrun, but we did not find a single soul, living or dead. We decided to patrol the outside wall, and did so, starting at the garden gate. We circled the southern wall heading west.”
Eli cleared his throat. “We were surprised to find a fresh mass grave to the west of the village, still being filled by a group of Danielites and their captors. Not far off, a group of about forty Gideonites were camped in the hollow there by the vineyards. About ten of them rushed up to us as soon as we were seen, and knowing we were outnumbered, we surrendered. We were harshly questioned, and when they figured out that I was the leader of my band of warriors, they separated us. My nine were added to the main group of remaining Danielites and marched down the road towards Saron. I had the pleasure of traveling the forest trails toward Ain in company of the rogues you caught me with earlier this evening. The captain told Pekah and the others it would be a faster route.” Eli grinned and spat on the ground in defiance. “Once again, you have gotten me out of a bad one,” he said with a laugh.
Jonathan didn’t laugh, but he did return the smile. “It’s so good to see you, Eli. Thank you again for giving my father a dignified burial. It was I who left him on the floor of the Council Hall. I hated to do it, but I was in a hurry to escape.”
With hand gestures for emphasis, Jonathan proceeded to tell Eli about hiding in the barn, hearing the commotion in the village, and returning to the hall where he found his father. He also mentioned the noise which had startled him, and his retrieval of The Thorn. Jonathan patted his chest.
“Eli, I got it, and then literally ran out the door.”
“I’m glad you did,” Eli said as he glanced back toward the camp. Jonathan also leaned to see the dim outline of Pekah sitting by the fire.
Jonathan ended his account by describing the long day in their secret cave. The two of them laughed a little as they reminisced together about the many items they had hidden there long ago as boys. But again their moods became somber, and they both grew quiet as their gazes rested on the moons-lit ground.
Eli lifted his head and pointed at the campfire. “What are we going to do with him?”
“I don’t know. He seems to have a good heart. If we can convince him to join the side of peace, he may be able to soften the hearts of others. What do you think?”
“You may be right. Although we all expected this war, I would very much prefer that it end quickly, and he may be able to help.”
Jonathan tapped his sword pommel with his hand, anxious to do whatever was necessary to stop Gideon. Numerous possible outcomes crossed his mind in mere seconds, but then he threw a startled expression in Eli’s direction.
“What has become of your sister?” Jonathan asked. “Last I knew, Rachel had been in Saron. Did she make it home safely?”
Eli’s jaw stiffened with anger. He shook his head, and Jonathan instantly felt ill.
“But I don’t know for sure,” Eli added, his tone grave. “To my knowledge, Rachel was still at market with the family steward, selling our spring lambs, when Saron was surprised by the Gideonites. If she left early enough, she might have made it home to Ramathaim before they attacked. I just fear she did not. When we left the city, we did not see anyone coming north from Hasor. She should have been back by that time.”
Jonathan saw deep emotion like a kindled fire burning in Eli’s eyes. “If she did not make it out of Saron, where do you think she is?”
“She may be at Ain. Our scouts confirmed there was a significant movement of people from Saron towards Ain the day before yesterday. They reported to have seen several columns of prisoner escorts. But then again, she may have been… the Gideonites…” Eli shuddered.
At Eli’s unspoken suggestion, Jonathan remembered the dishonorable things some Gideonite captains had done with female prisoners in the past. He could not bring himself even to complete the thought. Jonathan fought the images away and mustered his courage.
“Eli, don’t fear the worst. Let us have faith she has been protected.”
Eli grumbled. “I suppose you’re right. But you know as well as I do, the Gideonites do not always treat women with honor or respect. Some of them have forgotten the ways taught by Father Noah and treat women as if they were mere property.”
Jonathan bristled at the thought. His father Samuel had taught him to honor women as God’s finest creation, and that attitude prevailed amongst his own people. Jonathan loved Rachel dearly, and the thought of Gideonite soldiers harming her made his blood boil. Rachel had been promised to him, and even though she was not yet his lawful wife, Jonathan felt protective of her.
“Well,” Jonathan spat out, “at least we’re traveling in the right direction. I think we can easily reach Ain within two days. It’s my intention to find out what’s going on in that fair city.”
Eli patted Jonathan on the arm. “I feel the same way, my brother. If she’s there, we will find her.”
The two friends made their way back to the campfire and found Pekah sharpening the dagger he had taken from the Gideonite captain. He glanced up as they approached, but then returned to his work. As Jonathan and Eli removed their weapons and found themselves seats near the fire, Pekah stopped his sharpening and sheathed the dagger.
“Nate, can you tell me about the sword you carry? I have never seen anything like it.”
It seemed to be a harmless question. Jonathan took up the sword that lay next to him on the ground, pulled it from the sheath, and turned it in his hands, causing reflections from the campfire to bounce above them in the trees. Pekah gaped in wonder at the lights and leaned forward to see the narrow, thin, faceted blade.
“It is merely a glow-stone, albeit a special one,” Jonathan said. “This nearly perfect crystal was found by my grandfather in the mines near Hasor, crafted into a sword, and presented as a gift to my father.”
Jonathan stopped short of telling the whole story. To do so would reveal his identity. The Sword of Daniel had actually been given to his father as a coronation gift on the same day Samuel married. He chose to keep those facts to himself.
“How was it made?” Pekah said.
“The crystal is the longest one ever found in the Hasor mines. I don’t think there has ever been another like it. My father told me the raw stone was without flaw except at the ends. The swordsmith who made the weapon could only cut or groove it near the blemishes in the stone, and so he removed one flaw by striking it from the end of the crystal, thus producing the faceted tip. He grooved out the flaw at the opposite end with special tools made from other stones. After he added the brass cross-guard, he used some type of silver alloy to form the hilt and pommel, all of which he anchored to the grooved area of the crystal. I added the leather strapping around the hilt to make the sword easier to control.
“The sword-smith also left the pommel hollow to accommodate a small glow-stone for lighting purposes,” Jonathan added as he took the stone from his belt pouch and rubbed it vigorously to charge it. He snapped it into place, and they all watched as the entire sword took on a soft, blue glow.
Pekah’s brow furrowed. “How is it that the blade does not break? Any crystal, when struck with the amount of force which you used today against our swords, should shatter, no matter how perfect it is.”
Jonathan smiled. He leaned forward, locking gazes with Pekah, and stated with a wry smile, “I don’t know.”
The answer was honest, but not complete. Although Jonathan didn’t understand how the blade remained whole, he did suspect why. Only a few close friends outside of his immediate family knew that his grandfather had been led to the location of the raw crystal by a dream of the night-a dream in which Father Noah himself had delivered a message of promise. Much like The Thorn, Noah promised that a sword crafted from the unique crystal would be claimed by the Holy One at His coming-a symbol of His kingship, a sword that shone like the blue fire of sister suns, a sword of light.
The Gideonites all knew about the scepter because their father, Gideon, was there when it was fashioned. But none knew about the sword. And under the present circumstances, Jonathan did not feel impressed to share the story of the dream with Pekah, or the prophecy given to his grandfather. After all, the Gideonites already sought the scepter.
Jonathan hadn’t intended to be so mysterious. But he almost chuckled as he noticed Eli thoroughly enjoying the puzzled frown on Pekah’s face. Eli clasped his large hands behind his head and leaned back against a log, grinning widely.
Fortunately, Pekah asked no more questions. The conversation lagged, and Pekah again grew quiet. Ready to change the subject, Jonathan removed the small stone from the pommel, sheathed the sword, and suggested that they discuss their plans for the next day. Eli agreed.
“Tomorrow is the Sabbath,” Jonathan began. “I would rather not travel on the Sabbath. We’ll need our rest for the days ahead, and so I plan to stay here through the daylight hours of tomorrow. We can leave before dusk in the evening, and then travel under cover of darkness with the face of the moons as far as we can.”
“It’s true,” added Eli. “Tomorrow will be the crossing of the sisters, and under their face, travel will be easy enough, if the weather holds.”
“But where will we be going?” Pekah interjected, staring at Jonathan.
“We believe a large body of prisoners was taken from Hasor,” Jonathan said. “It’s possible they’re traveling toward Ain by way of Saron. If so, it’s my intention to find them and free them, if I can.”
Jonathan watched Pekah’s fire-lit face for a reaction. With the news Jonathan had received from Eli, he knew Pekah was aware of the prisoners taken at Hasor, and he wanted to see how this Gideonite felt about their plan to find them. Pekah’s countenance indeed had changed, but Jonathan could not tell if fear or some other emotion affected the Gideonite.
Sensing Pekah’s great unrest, he spoke with soft tones. “I want you to know, I have accepted your oath to me. You swore you will follow me and serve me until the end of your life. I will do all I can to ensure your life will be long, and that you will be happy, if you seek happiness.”
“Pekah,” Eli said. “Nate is a man of honor. His promise will be kept.”
“Thank you, Eli,” Jonathan said.
Pekah merely blinked as he stared into the campfire embers.
Still curious as to what Pekah’s thoughts were, Jonathan spoke again. “Can you tell me what you know about the fall of Hasor?”
Pekah remained silent. He fiddled with his boot straps as he continued to stare into the coals. Jonathan did not press him, but waited on his answer with hope that he would choose to talk about it. He looked towards the fire himself, wishing he could in some way make this awkward discussion about their plans bearable for both of them.
After a short time, Pekah spoke in a low voice. “I’ve seen things I do not wish to remember.”
Eli cleared his throat, but did not comment.
Jonathan let out a soft sigh. He said a silent prayer for help with their conversation, remaining calm and attentive until the impression came with words to fill his mouth.
“Pekah, there is One who can heal all things. Do you know of Whom I speak?”
Pekah nodded.
“No matter what has happened in your life, no matter what things you saw at Hasor, no matter what troubles you, if you turn to the Great King…” Jonathan’s voice became softer. “Turn to Him with all your heart, and pour your soul out to Him in prayer, even if it is by simply expressing the thoughts and the desires which are in your heart. He will hear you. He is the Great Healer, and He can remove many burdens.”
Immense hope, and a love for the young Gideonite man, started to fill Jonathan’s heart. He also noticed that he had been particularly impressed to use the title of “Great King,” but didn’t know why. Pekah still did not reply. His eyes glistened, and he turned from the fire to stare out into the darkness of the trees near the stream.
Jonathan did not feel inclined to talk further, and so after some awkward silence, he suggested they all get some rest. Now past midnight, morning would be upon them before they would want it to be. Eli asked if they should have a constant watch through the night, but Jonathan felt that with the cover of the thorny grove, and the sound of the stream behind them, they would pass the night without being discovered.
None of them had bed rolls, so they fashioned small pillows from sacks and cloaks. By this time, most of the flame was low and red. Eli placed the large log onto the fire to keep it burning.
Jonathan and Eli both knelt on the ground with bowed heads. They invited Pekah to join them in prayer, but he declined. After an expression of gratitude for a clear summer night with no rain, both men wished Pekah a good night’s sleep before drifting off.
Pekah watched them doze as he lay there, feeling depressed and out of place with these two men. He gazed up at the stars, not focusing on anything in particular. He tried to relax, but the events of the previous three days kept crossing his mind. Closing his eyes, he tried to sleep, but sleep would not come. The hard ground made him uncomfortable, and the more he tried to rest, the worse he felt. He groaned and realized much of the discomfort he felt was because of the guilt in his heart. He wished he had never enlisted in the emperor’s army. He wished he had never been in Hasor. He almost wished he were dead.