“It shall never leave my lips.”
“Then may The One Who Would Suffer protect you with His power.”
Pekah swallowed. “Thank you.”
The three of them again exchanged embraces. With a wave, Jonathan left the road and climbed toward the rocky heights. Pekah and Eli watched him leave. Once he disappeared behind an outcropping, they each took a halter and led the horses with their trailing wagon down the gentle, winding switchbacks of the road to Ain.
Chapter 12
Pekah nearly became dizzy as they wound their way back and forth down the switchbacks, but they soon found themselves approaching the farmland where small stone and wood homes were interspersed among groomed gardens, orchards, and grain fields. An abnormal stillness had settled over the area. He guessed his fellow Gideonites had rounded up all the inhabitants of the outskirts of Ain and taken them into the city itself, or elsewhere entirely, as there was very little sign of life apart from the occasional penned goat, cow, or chicken.
As they continued to lead their horses down the dirt road between the fields, it became apparent that several days had passed since the animals had been tended. Some of them showed signs of illness. Other farms devoid of livestock suggested raids by the invading army to feed both troops and prisoners. Most of the homes seemed to be undamaged, but as they advanced, they noticed several homesteads had been reduced to piles of charred rubble. The smoky smell of ash stung their noses.
Most disturbing were the fresh mounds of dirt, some as long as a man, others as small as a child. Pekah guessed that the army forced survivors to bury their dead before marching them away in bonds. Imagining the event caused a lump to rise in his throat. The dreary scene gnawed at his soul, reminding him of similar feelings experienced two nights previous-feelings of regret, of sorrow, of pain. He shook his head in an attempt to dislodge the memory.
Eli waved a hand in front of his face. “Pekah?”
“Oh. Sorry, I was just thinking.”
“That’s fine. I was, too. In fact, I was thinking about Jonathan. You know, Pekah, Jonathan doesn’t normally share his feelings.”
Pekah glanced over at Eli, glad for the diversion from the dark, wispy images of Hasor.
“He’s a private man, and has few friends. I’ve marveled as I have watched him be so open with you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, he usually stays to himself. You may have noticed, he’s deliberate in his conversation. He feels things very deeply. Because of that, he has difficulty sharing with people, and therefore, doesn’t take the time to create friendships. Does that make sense?”
“I suppose so.”
Both men were silent for a few minutes. The rhythmic crunch of the road under the horses’ hooves thumped like the music of a hand drum. It lulled the men into a slow, synchronized march. Pekah considered Eli’s comments, but his description of Jonathan didn’t seem to fit.
“I didn’t notice. He seems friendly enough to me.”
“You’re right. Apart from the obvious sorrow he feels over his father, Jonathan has been talkative, but he hasn’t always been that way. Several years ago, his mother passed away in a tragic accident. Since then, he has stayed pretty much within the circles of family and close friends. In fact, I cannot recall the last time he engaged in any significant conversation with a person he has not known for years.”
“What happened to his mother? Or is that too private to ask?”
“No, it’s not private.” Eli paused. “One year at the end of harvest time, Jonathan’s father was laid up for a few days with an injured ankle. Jonathan and his mother were plowing a field in preparation for winter. They stopped at the end of a furrow to rest the horse. That particular animal had always been a bit skittish, so Jonathan held the reins, and his mother held the halter. Something spooked the horse, and it reared. Jonathan lost his footing in the soft furrow, and dropped one rein as he went down. This caused the horse to pull toward his mother. She fell under the animal and never woke up.”
Troubled, Pekah put a fist over his mouth, his head bowing toward the ground. He looked back up at Eli. “I’m very sorry to hear it. Jonathan must feel terrible.”
“Jonathan blames himself, or at least he used to. Do you understand why I am surprised at his behavior?”
“I think so.” Pekah recalled the manner in which Jonathan had forgiven him near the stream-sincere, gentle, and reassuring. Not a hint of desired retribution. Pekah wondered if Jonathan’s struggle to forgive himself had taught him compassion for others. “Thank you for telling me, Eli. I appreciate being able to get to know him a little better.”
“You’re welcome. I doubt he would have told you that on his own, but I thought it was important to share. He’s a good man, and I think he could use another trusted friend.”
Pekah thought of his own family. A father he never knew. A mother he missed. No siblings. He sighed. “I could use a good friend, too.”
Eli smiled.
In the distance they could now make out the eastern gate of the city, including the banners of Gideon snapping in the evening breeze. Soldiers milled about near the wall, keeping watch. Pekah and Eli took the opportunity to exchange well-wishes. Pekah steeled himself against the possibility of being taken prisoner or failing in his mission. Their march toward the city wall remained deliberate and sure.
“I’ve been thinking,” Pekah said. “When we get to the city, the Gideonites may not like the fact that we’re traveling together, and you’re not in bonds.”
Eli put out his hands, ready to be taken prisoner.
Pekah chuckled. “We’re not doing that again! I just wondered if you have any idea what to say to the guards.”
“Say as little as possible, I suppose. We should demand audience with Manasseh. Anything else might get us into a whole lot of trouble. What do you think?”
Pekah thought for a minute. “I agree.” Although he was still nervous, this straight-forward plan strengthened his resolve. They walked the rest of the way in silence.
“What is your business here?” came a bellow from the gate-tower once they were within earshot of the city entrance.
Pekah did not answer, but raised his arm in greeting, and Eli bowed his head low. A few of the soldiers outside the gate readied themselves to meet them, drawing weapons. Pekah waved again as they approached, making sure his raven-emblazoned breastplate was plainly visible. One of the Gideonites waved back in acknowledgment, but then dropped his arm quickly.
As they drew up to the rise in the road which led to the wall, several of the soldiers, with weapons in hand, came to inspect the wagon and the two men. The largest soldier among them, who seemed to be in charge although he did not wear any distinguishing uniform, stomped up to Pekah and threw a sour expression of displeasure in Eli’s direction.
“What is your name, soldier, and why are you with this man of Uzzah?” he spat out, a drop of spittle landing on his chin.
“I am Pekah, and this is Eli. We have traveled far with a gift of supplies for the emperor and news of the war in the north.” Pekah paused, and then added, “We also bring important news from Captain Sachar and must see the emperor at once!”
The large Gideonite scratched his left forearm with the pommel of his short sword, hesitated a few seconds, but then waved them onward. “Open the gate!” he hollered, loud enough to startle the horses.
The gates complained as they swung inward, revealing a cobbled pavement leading into the city. Pekah was motioned to enter, and he shot a nervous glance at Eli as they both tugged on the horse halters to pull their load
