Mercy
A qua 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 his 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.
In addition to the resilience of the wall itself, the effectiveness of the catapults was lessened because of the constant harassment by sorties of Uzzahite warriors from sally ports at either end of the wall. Both ports were fiercely guarded by Uzzah. Many Gideonites died while trying to breach the doors until Rezon called an end to sorties against their attackers.
After several hours of minimal progress against the central portion of the wall, Chief Captain Jael stepped away from the observation hut and sent a few messengers to each end of the line. In response, the heavy wood beams of two catapults groaned and creaked as several hundred men pushed them back and then pushed them forward again, this time aiming them toward the sally ports.
After several missed attempts, one of the catapults hit its mark. The protective archways covering the outer reinforced door of the eastern port tumbled to the earth, completely blocking the exit. An additional catapult was turned toward the western port, and two tries later, its archway also fell. Rezon’s army cheered.
“Get those catapults lined back up with the center!” Jael shouted. He pulled Rezon’s arm and pointed. “Do you see the archways above the main gates?”
“Yes,” Rezon said.
“I think we should target those too.”
Rezon brought the sight of his spyglass up to his eye. Massive gates were reinforced with iron plates and bands, very little of their wooden beams exposed. The successive archways that extruded from the wall over the main gates were made of gigantic, precisely cut granite blocks and prevented a direct hit on the door. Most of the projectiles previously fired had enough arc left in their trajectory to cause them to bounce off the top of the protective structures. To this point, the catapults had not hit the gates at all.
“You’re right, Jael. You are going to have to get the arches down first. Otherwise, you will never hit the gates. I do worry, though.. .”
“About what?”
Rezon folded his arms. “We could end up blocking the gates completely. If we do, we won’t be able to get the rams into position. Maybe we should just push the rams forward. The arches could even provide cover.”
“Rezon, those main arches are a death trap.”
“They have murder holes?”
“And spouts for hot oil.”
Rezon spat on the ground. “Then knock them down.”
Uzziel peered down from a spotter’s post in a blockhouse upon the inner wall. The sound of popping pebbles from grinding wheels had caught his attention. Below him, the gates of the inner wall had been flung wide open. Eight machines, much lighter and more nimble than the heavy catapults being used by the enemy, creaked their way down the ramp, flanked on either side by the soldiers who rolled them. He pulled at Josiah’s sleeve.
“What are they doing?”
“Captain Jeremy had us build the onagers in secret. They were assembled far up the canyon and tested there. From what I hear, they have been marked with distance lines. With the assistance of a good spotter and some luck, we should be able to aim them with great accuracy. Obviously, the Gideonites don’t know we have them.”
Uzziel was excited. He didn’t know what the weapons were, but any advantage, especially if obtained by a surprise attack, thrilled him.
“What do they fire?” he asked.
“Yes,” Abram replied, snickering.
Uzziel was confused at first, but then it hit him. “Oh!”
A messenger ran up the stairs to the blockhouse and saluted. “Captain Jeremy sent me. He wanted you to know that although the eastern sally port was completely blocked by debris, the western port is still operational. He doesn’t think the Gideonites are aware of this. Only one of the men stationed there was injured. None killed. The captain says he will only open the door again if strategically necessary.”
“Thank you.”
The messenger scurried off.
Through a wide observation slit in the stone wall, Uzziel stared down at the onagers, now well onto the grassy pathway between the two protective city walls. Captains of ten and fifty arranged the engines in an arc and prepared them for service. A fire-pit, which Uzziel had not noticed before, hummed with activity. Pairs of men hauled iron balls coated in a sticky, tarry substance to each onager, handing the projectiles off to the teams manning the weapons. The teams then loaded the leather pockets hanging from the ends of the throwing arms.
A spotter on the outer wall relayed direction and distance for each of the onagers separately. Soldiers operating the engines moved adjustable stopping bars and anchored them in place while designated soldiers stood at the ready to set a burning torch to each tarred ball. Once the spotter signaled their readiness, the captain gave the order.
Eight flaming balls rose high over the outer wall and came crashing down onto two catapults near the trenches. Enemy soldiers near the siege engines stared in disbelief as all but one of the projectiles hit its mark. An alarm sounded, and Rezon’s soldiers rushed forward with water buckets to douse the flames, but one of the units was so completely engulfed by flame that they abandoned it. The spotter on the wall signaled again, this time indicating perfect hits.
A cheer that seemed to shake the heavens echoed back and forth between the peaks on either end of the valley. Uzziel supported himself on one hand as he leaned closer to the observation slit, nervous about the retaliation he knew would be forthcoming. His hand trembled. Frantic activity down below made him look again. What he saw drew out a smile-sloshing buckets being passed so fast along a line of soldiers that by the time they reached the catapults, the remaining water was almost less than a spit. He had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing.
Rezon stood in the observation hut, seething with anger. He shouted orders for the three loaded catapults to be aimed in the direction from which they had been attacked. Responding to the commands, soldiers struck latches with mallets, and the machines launched their stones high over the wall. Yelling and great commotion from inside floated over the walls, heard by all the ranks of Gideon.
Stretching further out the open window, Rezon thought he could make out screams of pain.
Oozing with delight at the successful hit, he guffawed as he slapped Jael on the shoulder. “That will teach them.”
Uzziel held his breath as three large stones sailed high over the battlements, hurtling toward the open field between the walls of Ramathaim. He stood, his old eyes focused on their expected impact point, then he let out a sigh of relief when he realized the onagers were already being moved. He watched with interest as a group of Uzzahite soldiers ran up to the three Gideonite stones that missed their mark, now sunk into the grassy turf. Turning toward the wall with their hands cupped around their mouths, a few soldiers took turns yelling. Some of the men banged on shields. One of them screamed as if in pain. Then, with their ruse accomplished, they hurried from the area and rejoined their ranks.
Peering down to where the onagers had been moved, he saw that soldiers were already prepping them for another attack. He clapped his hands with joy as he saw the Uzzahite captains manning the weapons signal to the spotters that no one had been injured, and that all the machines were safe.
Soldiers brought fresh leather pockets to replace the ones that had been damaged by the flaming projectiles, then loaded more tarred iron balls. The targeting and firing process repeated, and as soon as the fireballs were airborne, the rope-drawn onagers lurched toward the central ramp.
Intent on the fields outside the outer wall, Uzziel listened as the missiles fell. He heard the splintering booms of another breaking catapult. He heard shouts-cries of pain-the twang of bows from enemy archers randomly targeting areas around the last known firing location. Above it all, he could hear a single man ranting at the top of his lungs. Unintelligible threats drifted up to the blockhouse. Uzziel could not make them out at first, but then recognized a few distasteful words. He frowned.
Leaving the blockhouse so he could avoid the language and also congratulate Captain Jeremy, stationed below, Uzziel motioned Josiah and Abram to follow. As he descended the steep stairs with Abram’s assistance, the ranting continued to echo off the cliff walls on either side of the city. Uzziel wondered who was so angry. The few words he could make out were offensive, and one even blasphemous. He wiped his brow, muttering under his breath.
“May the God of heaven have mercy on that man’s soul.”