As Pekah rubbed his hands near the flames, he watched as Eli rose from his bed. Eli smiled and waved a friendly hello, leaving in the direction of the stream. Nate stood up and stretched.
“I hope you slept as well as I did,” Nate greeted.
“Thank you, but not really. I didn’t sleep much.”
“I’m sorry to hear it.”
Nate looked at the dagger in the dirt beside him. He regarded it with curiosity, then glanced back at Pekah, who was watching for a reaction. Nate didn’t comment about the dagger. He merely stepped around it, aiming toward the stream.
“I’ll be back,” he said as he left.
Dawn approached. It would not be long before the twin suns made their appearance. Pekah tested his shirt, and found it still damp. He turned it around to dry the other side, but after a few more minutes he became impatient with the process, so he shook the wool tunic in the air, pulled it over his head, and cinched his belt. Faint wisps of steam rose around him into the cold morning air.
Eli and Nate returned from the stream together, both with wet hair and clean faces, just as the first beams of direct light fell from the rising suns. As the orbs rose from the western horizon, Pekah could see that Azure had eclipsed Aqua. They appeared to be one body except for the color difference and size of their spheres. Aqua’s almost colorless hue-a light blue with a greenish tint-formed a near-perfect ring around the smaller, almost purple Azure. Now superimposed, they seemed somewhat less bright than they had the day before, yet their intensity still required caution on the part of onlookers.
With the aid of the morning light, Pekah took the opportunity to get a better look at his companions, and found them to be quite a contrast standing together. Nate was tall, with brown hair and a well-trimmed short beard, large blue eyes, of medium build. Eli was taller yet, of a strong build, and his red hair highlighted friendly green eyes.
Pekah glanced over at his polished armor leaning against a log near the campfire. Eli stared at it as if making eye contact with the raven upon the hardened leather.
When Eli noticed Pekah also looking on, he joked, “Perhaps you can get your bird to feed me!”
Pekah was confused by the comment and shrugged his shoulders.
“You do know the story of the raven, do you not?” asked Eli.
“No.”
Eli appeared dumbfounded. “Well, would you care to hear it?”
Pekah still didn’t feel like himself after the horrible night he had, but to avoid offending his new companions, he relented with a less-than-convincing “Sure.”
Eli made a show of clearing his throat, and the three men each found a place to sit on the logs around the fire. Eli apparently loved to tell stories. He began with excitement and animation.
“The written words of my fathers tell us that this raven was a godsend to Gideon, and it kept him alive. Always fond of hunting, Gideon would travel many days, deep into the wilderness, searching for the largest deer or the largest boar to bring to his family for meat. On one occasion, he was far into the forest when a strong storm arose and left a dense fog which caused him to lose his way for many days, without food for most of them. Almost without hope, Gideon felt as if he would not live. But he prayed to God that he would be spared and led home.”
Eli paused at this point, as if to make sure his student still listened. Pekah didn’t have the heart to tell Eli he wasn’t in the mood for a story.
“As Gideon arose from his prayer, this raven descended with a branch of berries in its beak.” Eli pointed at the image on Pekah’s breastplate. “Dropping the branch, it flew away, and Gideon followed. More ravens came, each one bearing fruit. Gideon ate, and then followed the birds until he was back on familiar ground and was able to leave the forest. On the day when Father Noah gave his final blessings to his sons, he counseled Gideon always to follow the path of the raven, and to do so by watching out for the welfare of his brethren. Noah charged Gideon to provide for them in whatever ways he could, so they might all dwell together in joy.”
Pekah now understood the prodding joke from Eli about the raven feeding him, yet the story did not cheer his heart-not in the least. It made him feel worse. At this point in time, Gideon as a people was about as far off “the path of the raven” as the tribe could be. Pekah glanced again over toward Nate’s bed where the dagger lay in the dirt, a reminder of the sleepless night he had passed. An overwhelming urge to clear his conscience made his heart race, but words to express himself would not come. Frustrated, he sat in silence, unable to even acknowledge the story Eli had so eloquently related.
Eli took a deep breath as if he was about to tell more, but stopped short. Out of the corner of his eye, Pekah saw Nate grip Eli’s arm.
Nate suggested that they all pray to begin their Sabbath day, and then partake of a meal together. Pekah mechanically knelt and closed his eyes. Still feeling the effects of a difficult night, his thoughts wandered. At the end of the prayer, he could not remember a single thing said, nor could he remember who had spoken. His mind foggy, he joined the other two men in finding a seat around the dying fire.
Saving the bread and dried meats from Pekah’s provision sack, Nate took the food from his own supply, broke the bread, and passed it with handfuls of dried fruit to the others. Pekah received his portion, but held the crust in his hands, staring down at the ground much as he had done the previous evening.
The struggle he felt within was fierce. Guilt. Sorrow. Fear. Insistence that he had done nothing wrong. Yet still there was confusion as to why he felt so horrible. What was it? Then he knew. The murders-a little boy and an old man. Something surged within him, and he felt the sudden need to clear the air.
“Nate,” Pekah began very abruptly. “I was there on the day my people attacked Hasor. I wanted so badly to stop them, but I could not find the strength to try. I witnessed the murder of innocents. A little boy was killed for no reason.”
Pekah hesitated, and then without regard to what he was saying, he spat out, “I saw other things. The man you killed yesterday, Captain Sachar-I saw him kill the judge. He threw his dagger into the judge’s back, like a coward. That is the knife.” Pekah stiffened, fully expecting some sort of retribution.
How incredibly stupid. I’m alone in the woods with these two, and either one of them could kill me without a second thought.
Nate’s face went pale as he leaned forward to stare at the gilded sheath on the ground. Surprised at himself for what he had confessed, Pekah remained fixed and motionless, pointing at the weapon. Nate was still.
Should he not be angry? The leader of his people was murdered! Why doesn’t he threaten me?
Pekah saw the tears well up in Nate’s eyes, then pour down his cheeks.
“Please excuse me,” was all Nate said. He got up after placing his breakfast on top of his shoulder sack, and left the camp to go sit where he had the previous evening.
Pekah lowered his arm to his side, his eyes once again finding the ground. Grieving, he wiped tears from his face as the stresses of the night began to release.
What was I thinking?
He peeked over to where Eli sat, but did not make eye contact with the Uzzahite.
Eli rose like he was about to get up and follow Nate, perhaps to comfort him, but he did not leave, sitting down again instead.
Pekah set his bread aside. “I don’t understand, Eli. Why was he not angry?”
Eli did not answer, but moved closer. “Pekah,” he said as he sat down, “Nate was not the only person in his family defending Hasor when your army arrived. He has not mentioned it yet, but Nate’s father was killed during the fight. Last evening when Nate and I talked about the fall of Hasor, we shared information with each other about the events of that day. I feel terrible about what has happened to Nate’s father. I have always felt like one of Nate’s family, and I feel his loss as if it were my own.”
Pekah’s chest tightened. Once again, a feeling of intense guilt for his part in the skirmish made him tremble. He folded his arms, his hands squeezed into tight fists.
“And I’m actually quite surprised that you shared the information about the knife and the death of the judge. Pekah, why did you tell him?”
Pekah did not stir, but raised his brows and blinked the water from his eyes.
“Pekah, I need to tell you something. I know of your army’s mission. We had been told by a Danielite spy that the armies of Manasseh were marching, and of the emperor’s intent to capture the judge so they might find his son
