troop into the Danielite Council Hall, where we found the chief judge.”
Pekah paused, not sure how to proceed in his telling. The captain had disobeyed orders, and Pekah was uncertain how Manasseh would react to the news of it. The large soldier in the chamber impatiently tapped his sword tip on the floor.
“The judge told us his son had left some days before and had taken the scepter with him. Sachar was upset by this, and killed the judge.”
The general grumbled and muttered something under his breath, and Manasseh frowned angrily.
“We searched the hall in its entirety, but did not find the scepter. The captain then took us into the palace, but we did not have any luck there, either. That night we camped in Hasor and intended to march north to find General Rezon’s army on the following day. Captain Sachar said the general had bypassed Hasor and would be waiting for us near Ramathaim.”
Pekah glanced sideways at Eli. The surprise on Eli’s face reminded Pekah that he had not told either Eli or Jonathan about Rezon’s march north. He wondered if Eli knew anything about the Gideonite general’s character. Well aware of Rezon’s pride and arrogance, he was certain General Rezon would not leave Ramathaim without conquering the city.
“Soldier, finish your tale,” demanded the general.
Pekah straightened. “Our plans to join Rezon did not materialize. The following morning while breaking camp, we were approached by a small band of Uzzahite warriors, one of which is here. His name is Eli. Captain Sachar told the troop that our orders had changed. We marched toward Ain by way of the forest trails.”
Recognition lit the well-fed captain’s face. He spoke loudly, making the walls of the portable throne room quiver. “My king,” he said, pointing to Eli, “This man’s accompanying warriors are imprisoned in this city. I saw them arrive just last evening with a contingent from Hasor, which had traveled without rest for two days and nights. They traveled by way of Saron and the Geber Pass. When they arrived, I learned that the small band of Uzzahites with them had been deprived of their leader by Captain Sachar.”
“But why did Captain Sachar separate from the rest of the army?” the general asked, his tone harsh.
“I do not know, sir,” Pekah answered.
“Where is the captain?”
Suddenly feeling defensive, Pekah felt beads of sweat form on his forehead. He studied the silent emperor, whose face puckered with anger. Manasseh waved his hand for Pekah to continue.
“Eli was taken as a prisoner by my band, under Captain Sachar’s direction. We marched south on the same forest trail used to approach Hasor, with the intention of turning west to bring him here. But as we marched, we were attacked.”
“Who attacked you?” asked the general.
“We did not know who he was, but he was a Danielite. He demanded we release our prisoner, but Captain Sachar did not see the need to surrender, as the Danielite man was alone. The captain gave the command to attack him, but the battle did not go as planned.”
“What do you mean, ‘not as planned’?” the short Gideonite leader interjected.
“The lone Danielite killed every one of our troop, including Captain Sachar, single-handedly. He only spared my life because I surrendered.”
Now irritated, the general took a step closer to Pekah. He put his fists on his hips and demanded to know where the Danielite was.
“He’s not here,” Pekah said, a milder tone in his voice. “But we did travel with him for two days. During that time, we discussed many things, and I considered both what had happened at Hasor and what I would report when I got here.”
Pekah paused, staring down at the ground to gather his thoughts. “My emperor-I wish to tell you of a dream I had, but before I do, I must tell you more about this Danielite. His name is Jonathan. He is the son of the chief judge and heir to the throne of Daniel.”
The emperor did not speak, but a wry smile formed on his face. His baleful expression unnerved Pekah. Shifting on his feet, Pekah avoided Manasseh’s piercing gaze. Help me, he prayed. Gathering his strength, the young Gideonite soldier rose a bit taller, confident.
“Oh, Emperor, he taught me much in these two days. I have come to realize that perhaps I have been wrong about many things… things I remember being taught from the beginnings of childhood, and reinforced when I entered the service of my king. During the last two days, I have learned that this Danielite is a good man-a man of integrity and honor. His only desire is for this war to end, and for there to be peace in the lands once again. He wishes to purchase your favor, my king, and this is why we have come with supplies and news of the war.”
Pekah ignored the scowl on Manasseh’s face and took a breath. “The night before last, I had a dream about standing in this very room. I saw you here, my emperor, with these two men. I told Samuel’s son, Jonathan, about this dream, and he told me to come here today. I have brought you a gift from the Danielite himself. He waits outside the city walls, and he has asked that I buy the release of the prisoners in the city. He asks that you sit with him to negotiate a lasting peace.”
The general stepped back to where he first stood and seemed to be somewhat appeased, perhaps even impressed, by Pekah’s bold response. But the other man had a strange look on his face, almost as if he were in a trance.
Manasseh, on the other hand, did not appear to be amused. He pulled a dagger from somewhere in his garments, pointed it at Pekah for emphasis, and said, with hints of vitriol in his voice, “What did you bring me?”
Eli nudged Pekah and encouraged him to show the scepter. He then whispered into Pekah’s ear, “Holiness, Honor, Humility.”
The dream. This is my dream.
Pekah could feel himself turn as white as snow. His knees weakened, and he dizzied as if he would faint. He gaped at Eli, whose facial expression was concerned, yet supportive.
Pekah shifted on his feet, and with trembling hands, reached for the leather bag around his shoulder. He pulled open the drawstring and retrieved the purple cloth. Slowly unrolling it, he exposed the beautiful glass rod to the light of the many candles in the room. The scepter glistened.
The emperor stood in surprise, recognizing what Pekah held in his hands. He took a step forward, but stopped as Pekah spoke.
“Emperor Manasseh, will you trade the prisoners of Daniel and Uzzah for the scepter?”
Manasseh shook his head immediately. “I will not give you the prisoners. This trinket will not buy their freedom or end this war.”
Pekah’s countenance fell, and Eli stiffened.
“This war will continue,” the emperor almost shouted, “until all of Daniel is destroyed and Uzzah is made to serve Gideon forever.”
Manasseh stood in pure malevolence, his face hard, his eyes cold.
Both Eli and Pekah recoiled from the evil threat. Eli glanced about, as if looking for an escape.
Pekah shocked himself with a forceful and defiant response. “Then you cannot have it!” he cried. “Jonathan, Samuel’s son, sent me to trade this for prisoners. If you do not release them, you cannot have The Thorn!”
For some reason, the general and the captain did not move or speak. They stood as if they had been shackled to the floor and rendered mute.
Anger and hatred seethed from Manasseh’s face. He was a volcano, ready to spew hot, searing lava into the air. His presence seemed to grow in the room, and the darkness he carried made Pekah flinch. At the moment Manasseh appeared ready to burst, with great intensity he commanded his men, “Kill them! Kill them, and bring me the scepter!”
The Gideonite leaders still did not move. They stared at each other, and then, almost as if they were offended by the emperor’s request, they regarded him without any expression whatsoever.
This made Manasseh rage. He shrieked as if stung by a wasp and ran forward with dagger flashing. Unable to react, Pekah stood motionless, his arm still outstretched, the scepter between himself and the furious man. Time seemed to slow, and the steps taken by Manasseh were easily counted.
Eli started to move as if to protect his unarmed friend, but there came a terrible noise like a great, rushing gust of wind. It was as if an unseen tornado had entered the room-unfelt, yet undeniably heard in its roaring
