They entered the home and found Rehoboam waiting for them. He gave them a formal welcome to his father’s house as a sign of respect for his visitors. Once the formalities were completed, Rehoboam turned to his brother, “I have just met with father’s adviser. He informs me that the mourning is finished. Our father would like to meet with both of us after you have washed.”
Menelik nodded and turned to Juan and Diego. “You will excuse us?”
“Of course,” Juan replied, bowing respectfully as was the custom.
Menelik called for one of the servants to guide Juan and Diego to their room. “We will tell our father of your arrival and of your desire to speak to him.”
Juan thanked Menelik and then Diego and he followed the servant down several hallways to their room. They found the room simple yet filled with valuable items. Just as the house, the room was precisely decorated.
The servant closed the door behind him and they settled into the room, choosing to inhabit the chairs by the windows that overlooked the surrounding lands. Then, they began the wait that preceded being called by the King.
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
Solomon gave Juan and Diego a formal greeting to his home and then released them to the care of his sons as he turned to the details of his wife’s funeral. He promised them a place of honor in the feast to follow.
To pass the time, they shared contests of swordsmanship with Menelik and Rehoboam and were also permitted to enter the personal library of Solomon. Solomon’s home was peaceful and the wide lands gave opportunity for hunting.
One evening, as they were sitting in the quiet of Diego’s room, Diego asked Juan to finish his story of McKale.
Reflection entered Juan’s eyes as he began:
He had been riding nearly three hours and entered a narrow valley when he heard a noise off to his right. It could have been an echo but Juan wasn’t sure.
He dismounted behind a natural rock formation that was split down the center and made his position behind the rock. From the higher vantage point he had a clear view of his surroundings.
He didn’t want to take any chances. Just because he couldn’t die didn’t mean his horse couldn’t; he was in the wilderness and did not want to be left on foot.
He listened intently for several minutes but silence was sovereign. He began to move silently back to his horse when he was interrupted by a rustling to his left. He instinctively turned towards the sound but was stopped by a blade against his throat.
“You still move slowly,” Juan heard a familiar voice say.
The blade released from his neck and he knew who it was before he saw his face. “Adahy,” Juan smiled turning.
“It is I,” Adahy agreed.
“Adahy was from the line of Kosati, the scout who approached the village when I returned from the garden,” Juan reminded Diego before continuing:
“What are you doing here?” Juan asked.
“My name means Lives in the Woods, so why do you ask?” Adahy answered, gesturing at the surrounding trees.
Juan smiled. “I thought you went back east.”
“Perhaps my return east was exaggerated. Why would I follow you all the way here only to leave without speaking?”
“Why did you follow me?”
“There are tales from my grandfather of how you were old when he was young. Such an old man needs someone to watch out for him.”
“So you’re staying?”
“Well, I’m certainly not going to that poor excuse for land your government gave to my people.”
“Your village was discovered?”
“It was only a matter of time.”
Adahy had joined a renegade group of Cherokee that had hid in the mountains when the others were forced on the Trail of Tears. “So what are you doing out here?” Adahy asked.
“A friend of mine was killed by a man who was aiming for me.”
“And you’re looking for him?”
“In a way. The circumstances of the shooting unnerved the people of the town. They didn’t say it but they feel better with me no longer there.”
“Knowing you, I can understand people being unnerved. So now what?”
“I’ll continue along the trail. Are you coming with me?”
Adahy nodded. “You lead and I’ll follow.”
They were deep in the mountains and Adahy heard it first: the snapping of a twig. He turned towards the noise and as he did, a man stepped out from behind an adjacent boulder.
Four additional men showed themselves from atop a rock formation armed with rifles. Juan could have taken them but wasn’t willing to risk Adahy. Instead, he allowed the men to take their horses.
Juan and Adahy were bound and made to walk behind them.
For four days they traveled, eventually moving out of the mountains and onto an open plain; Juan knew they had entered Mexico.
Finally, they reached a huddle of homes and Adahy counted at least forty men.
They were led to a small adobe structure that Juan recognized as a prison. Shoved inside, they were chained to the wall in a dimly lit cell. Juan knew they would be kept until they were either sold off as slaves or they died.
On the third day of their imprisonment, a new man was brought in among them. He was given the same treatment as them: he was stripped, beaten and chained naked to the wall.
The conditions were deplorable. They were forced to lie in their own feces and urine and at night, small scorpions crawled around the cell. Snakes often found their way inside. Adahy was bitten and the unclean wound had begun to fester.
“Why didn’t you escape?” Diego interrupted.
