The old judge pointed to the back of the hall. “My most loyal guards wait at the door to protect me. I want you to be safe.”
Guilt filled Jonathan from head to toe. How can I leave? Am I a coward? He watched for reassurance in his father’s face. Samuel’s eyes were moist. Jonathan reached for his father, and Samuel pulled Jonathan into a firm embrace. They clung to each other for a moment. When Samuel released him, Jonathan noticed how his father studied him, as if they wouldn’t see each other for a very long time. Jonathan’s gaze fell to the ground as the old judge’s mouth began to quiver with emotion.
In a stern, yet gentle tone, Samuel again urged his son to leave. “Jonathan, I do not want them to find you.”
His father’s love pierced him to the very center. He looked up from his boots and saw the kindly face of the old judge through his own tear-blurred blue eyes. Then, in his heart, he felt a strong impression. It was that familiar inner voice he had heard so many times before, and it told him he should go quickly. Jonathan didn’t hesitate to follow the prompting. With nothing more than a tender, tear-filled smile to the old man and a squeeze of his hand, Jonathan grabbed his hooded cloak from the table and ran out the back door.
After closing the door to the palace hallway, three guards entered the room to take their places around the judge, steel blades exposed and ready. The clamor outside the Council Hall intensified.
Samuel attempted a calming smile for his protectors, but sat down on the judgment seat with a deep sigh. He unconsciously tapped the stone armrest as his eyes followed the line of windows high in the east wall. On account of the cloud cover, the afternoon light only cast dim shadows on the vaulted ceiling. The projected mood caused Samuel to wonder if it would be better if he also fled. He mumbled to himself, but his guards remained at attention. I must stay. I must try to convince the Gideonites.
The front doors burst open with such force that dust fell from the plastered timbers above him. He watched with horror as a contingent of kneeling archers on the porch killed his armed guards with a single volley. Five other soldiers wearing the Mark of the Raven stomped into the room, dragging between them a beaten and bloody palace guard. One of them slammed the doors shut while the rest of the soldiers dropped their captive to the floor in front of Samuel. The Danielite soldier appeared to be dead. Samuel realized the battle was now lost, and his left hand trembled.
The judge suppressed his anxiety by gripping the armrests of the judgment seat so hard, his knuckles hurt. He glared at one of the Gideonite soldiers, who seemed to be the troop captain. The tall, strong man wore polished leather armor and a large leather cap. Both the raven-emblazoned leather breastplate and the cap were lined at the edges with lamb’s wool, dyed red. Samuel’s face contorted in disgust. The wool had been purposely colored, not with dye, but with blood.
“Where is it?” the Gideonite leader barked while slapping the blade of his drawn sword against his thigh.
“You’re too late. The Thorn left with a caravan to the north countries five days ago.” Not very practiced at lying, Samuel sensed from the Gideonite’s facial expression that his ruse had not been convincing.
With upper lip curled, the captain leered at the judge, contempt seething from him. He yelled again, “ Where is your son?”
“I told you. You are too late.”
Samuel sat stiff and upright in the seat, not daring to move his feet for fear the Gideonite might sense his nervousness. The soldier who had been dragged into the room groaned, and Samuel felt relief that he was still alive. He glanced down to see who the injured man was, but the guard faced away from him, and he couldn’t tell. Samuel looked back up at the enemy.
The captain’s eyes were devoid of any emotion, and his cold stare spooked the judge. Pulling back into the seat, Samuel tried to put some distance between them, even if it was only a hand’s breadth of space. Without warning, the captain kicked the fallen palace guard in the face with tremendous force, causing the man to cry out in agony. The sound of his jaw snapping echoed in the room. Samuel felt faint.
A sneer bubbled up to the surface of the Gideonite captain’s face, and a single, low-pitched laugh fell from his lips. Samuel exerted all the self-control he could muster to show he wasn’t afraid. He glowered back at the man, who took a small step forward. The fact that Samuel wasn’t cowering in terror appeared to anger the Gideonite.
Within an instant, the captain’s countenance changed for the worse. In a fit of rage, he reached for his belt dagger with his free hand. Now in immediate danger, the judge twisted from his seat, desperate to make his way to the back door. He was two paces from freedom when the Gideonite threw his weapon, striking the old judge squarely in the back. With a groan, Samuel sank to his knees and then fell to the floor, still.
One of the young soldiers said to the captain in some dismay, “This was not in our orders! We were to detain and deliver the judge so the emperor could question him. You’ve killed him!”
“Orders can be changed! General Rezon commands this troop, not the emperor.” One of the captain’s eyebrows drooped as the corner of his mouth twitched. He studied the young soldier. Feigned happiness replaced his disgust. “Besides,” he continued in a sickly sweet tone, “we do not need the old man anymore. Even if we don’t know the identity or location of his son, there is still a possibility The Thorn may be here, and I intend to deliver it to General Rezon.”
The young soldier retreated a few steps.
The back door opened. Another soldier wearing the Mark of the Raven entered. “Sir, all the guards have surrendered.”
“Good,” the captain replied. “Did you find the judge’s son among them?”
“We do not think so, sir. The men of the palace guard insist he left five days ago. He doesn’t seem to be among any of those who surrendered, although we cannot be sure.”
“Question them again! He may be hiding among them, and I want him, dead or alive!”
“Yes, sir!”
As the messenger left, the Gideonite captain began to systematically search the shelves lining the room. With the exception of the young dissenting soldier, the other men joined in, ruffling through the books. Two of the men tore out some of the hand-inked pages, threw them to the floor, and then added the broken tomes themselves to the pile. All but the youngest soldier commenced to ransack the room. They broke, tossed, opened, cleared, and swept every item from every corner of the hall. Each inspected object was hurled into varied heaps on the floor.
After twenty minutes of desperate searching, the soldiers stopped, bored of the relentless vandalism. The troop captain finally noticed that one of his men had not participated in the destruction. He grunted his disapproval.
The young soldier came to attention, but said nothing.
“It’s not here,” one of the other soldiers announced.
“We must get back to the company and report,” said another.
Angrily kicking items from their path, the group hoisted the beaten palace guard from the floor and made their way to the back door. Other soldiers were motioned in to remove the bodies of the guards. The captain pointed to the judge’s body.
“Leave this one,” he ordered. “I want him to stink. Maybe the smell of him will freshen up the place.” Stooping to twist his dagger from the dead judge’s back, he wiped the sticky blade on the judge’s robes before returning it to its gilded sheath.
He cursed as he pushed a large candelabra onto the stone floor, further dimming the available light in the hall as the fallen candles were snuffed. Turning to leave, he grumbled, “I swear, before the sister moons rise tonight, the Danielite captain who told us the judge’s son was here will pay dearly for his lies.”
Chapter 3
Jonathan winced as he stood up in the barn loft where a palace guard had covered him in straw, helping him
