Somewhere over the walls of Ramathaim, a cock crowed. The sound caused Rezon to roll over in his bedding with a groan. His head still hurt from the night before when he had spent the evening with his captains and drunk far too much. He pushed his sandy brown hair out of his eyes and stared up at the top of his center tent pole. He could just make it out in the growing light, surmising that the suns were about to appear over the western peaks of the Hara Range.
With some effort, he sat up and reached for the clean clothing lying on a stool near his bed of piled furs and blankets. He stood to dress. As he cinched his sword belt, he heard shouting in the camp. A posted guard popped in to report, giving a smart salute and then delivering his message like a springtime downpour.
“General Rezon, the catapult we pushed into position during the night has been attacked. Before we could use it, the Uzzahites saw it. It’s burning. A few men were injured, but none were killed.”
Rezon’s mouth twisted into a scowl. “Was it not protected?”
The guard stammered as he tried to describe the protections put in place, but gave up trying to excuse the incident. “Yes, but Uzzah hit us too hard and too fast.”
Rezon waved the soldier away, who saluted as he was dismissed. He reached for a crust of bread on his table, left over from the day before, and washed it down with the final drops in his wineskin. Temporarily satisfied, he loudly called for assistance. One of his captains entered the tent, bearing some hot breakfast. At the sight of the fresh eggs, fruit, and cheese, Rezon wondered why he had finished off the old bread.
“Gad,” Rezon said with a growl, “what is being done about the attack?”
Gad set the tray on the table. “Another two hundred men have been stationed to assist the front line. Five more catapults are being readied for use, and they will be pushed into position at the same time. I do not think Uzzah can stop them all.”
A smirk formed on the general’s face, but changed to a frown. He glared at Gad as if the captain were at fault for the previous mishaps with the siege engines. Gad stiffened.
“I will make sure they do not,” Rezon swore.
Gad left the tent, and Rezon sat to eat his breakfast. After pushing the empty plate away, he took the opportunity to inspect himself in a hand mirror. He retrieved his leather headband to pull his hair back, and then straightened the hem of his red tunic under his belt. The color of red on this first day of battle was intentional. He moved the mirror around to get a complete view, thinking that red did look good with his soot-colored cloak and black leather pants.
As he stood there admiring his appearance, his mind drifted to thoughts of his mother. He had her features. Even his sandy-brown hair color was similar to hers. He remembered her kindness-she had always been so patient. Rezon turned his face to the side, searching for some of her better traits. Perhaps they were there, but he couldn’t see them.
More like my father every day. He sometimes hated himself for that. His father had been a cruel, harsh man. Why can I not be more like my mother? His self-analysis always came to the same conclusion: People are weak. They do not understand kindness. They respond better to other methods.
Rezon shook the memories away.
My mother was weak.
He left the tent and looked past six other captains, who stood nearby, to see that the sister suns were well above the tall, round-topped mountain fronting the western slopes. He turned to inspect his best men and expressed his satisfaction. Girded for battle, their leather caps edged in bloodstained wool matched the exposed bottom linings of polished leather breastplates, each painted with the Raven of Gideon. Most of the breastplates were also adorned with jewels or trimmed with gold. The captains saluted in unison with hands raised high, and the general acknowledged them.
For the next hour, Rezon sat with his captains around the campfire before his pavilion, discussing the morning’s events and instructing them again on his strategy for the day. “Once the catapults are ready, I want them all pushed forward together. Jael and I will give orders from the observation hut. We will use the catapults to clear the defenses, then we will bring up the battering rams. When the gates fall, we will rush in to secure the outer wall. This will provide us the needed protection to attack the inner wall more freely.”
Returning from the front lines, Captain Gad hastened up to the group. “General, we are within an hour or two of completing enough tunnels and trenches to support the advance.”
“And the trenches are within striking distance of the wall for our archers?” Rezon asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Well done. We will attack today, when the sister suns are high in the sky,” he said. “I want to give the units assembling the war machines a little more time to finish all of them.”
Rezon paused and then said, “Once the forward trenches are complete, set our archers into position. Prepare your men. I will join you at the forward observation hut when it is rolled into place.”
The captains stood, saluted, and then left, except for Gad. He stayed behind to assist Rezon with any last- minute preparations for the attack. Numerous soldiers also came and went, performing various tasks and errands as Rezon and Gad discussed strategy over a hot drink.
About the time their cups were drained, a rider approached the pavilion area, his horse visibly failing and wheezing. A lather of sweat covered its mouth and chest, some of the froth dripping to the ground. The horse’s muscle tremors and wobbly legs caused the rider nearly to fall as he dismounted. Another soldier led the exhausted animal away. Rezon stood to receive the rider. As Zev approached, he frowned. “You rode that horse too hard.”
Zev saluted but did not respond. His eyes went to the pavilion.
Rezon understood. “Come with me.”
Upon entering the tent, the door flap was lowered, and Zev stood alone before General Rezon. Over the next few minutes, Zev described his journey with Ilan to Hasor, Saron, and the Geber Pass. He told of the various groups of Danielite soldiers they had to avoid, and then of their uneventful passage through the mountains. As Zev told of the encounter with General Jasher when they reached the high point, and of the companions who traveled with Jasher, the general stiffened.
“Jasher was traveling with Danielites and Uzzahites… and women?”
“Yes, sir. They were definitely together. Many of the Danielites and Uzzahites were wearing Gideonite armor.”
“Where is Ilan?”
“I fear he is dead, sir. As I escaped, Ilan was captured by Jasher. Hoping he followed, I glanced back, but I saw him roll over onto his weapon.”
Rezon wandered over to his table and retrieved his goblet. He wanted to fill it, but instead just stood there, tapping the side of the cup with his finger. His clenched jaw made his teeth hurt. Distracted, he lifted the empty goblet to his lips to drink, but no refreshing liquid came forth. The lines in his forehead deepened.
“If Gideon is traveling with The Brothers, it can only mean one thing,” Rezon said as he slammed the empty goblet to the table. “Jasher of Bezek has already killed the emperor. He has somehow convinced those who should be in subjection to me, to support him as the new leader. I cannot fathom how he did it, but I see no other explanation.”
Zev nodded.
“Tell me again when this happened. How did you return so fast?”
Zev explained that he had ridden hard all day after meeting Jasher in the pass. To reach Ramathaim more quickly, he went through the hills in order to bypass Saron, and continued most of the night with just a few rests for his horse. During the last hour of the ride, he pushed the horse to its limit.
“My guess is that Jasher’s army left Saron just this morning,” Zev added.
“You have done well, my wolf. I would like to reward you for the speed at which you returned with this information.”
Rezon turned to his desk and removed a parchment sheet from the writer’s box there. With a raven’s quill, he wrote a hasty note, held a green wax stick to a candle flame, and melted a drop onto the bottom of the parchment. From his pocket he pulled a small medallion on a chain, which he pressed into the soft wax, then returned to his pocket.
Zev approached the desk and removed his belt. He slipped Rezon’s dagger from it, placing the sheathed weapon on the table.
