The Chronicles of Gan: The Thorn (14 page)

“Them?”

“I didn’t tell you before,
but there is a tradition passed down in my family—a prophecy. The
Thorn will be claimed by the Holy One when He comes, a symbol of
His authority as King. But it will not be the only item
claimed.
My
sword, the sword of Daniel, will become
His
sword. It just occurred to me it
may be a good idea to keep the two items apart for a while, even if
we have to trade the scepter for prisoners. Does that make
sense?”

Pekah scratched his head. “Yes. I think it
does. If the scepter is not with you, the sword will most likely be
overlooked.”

“Precisely.” Jonathan leaned away, then
turned back to Pekah, his gaze earnest. “I need to tell you . . .
besides Eli’s family, a few select friends of my father’s, and
myself, nobody else on Gan knows that the sword I carry shares the
same promise as The Thorn. And you are the first Gideonite to
possess that information. Guard it well.”

“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

Ain

P
ekah 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 forward. The
Gideonite leader assigned four men to escort the wagon. Several of
the soldiers guarding the gates whispered to each other as the
group of men crossed under the archway.

Once they had passed the posts, the doors
were again secured behind them, and the four escorts led the way
into the city. They passed tents in the entry court and then
followed a well-worn cobbled passage flanked by stone and brick
buildings, many of them outfitted with canvas awnings hanging over
the two-lane street. The shops and businesses they passed were
unattended, many showing evidence of looting. Several of the doors
were torn from their hinges, and a few of the buildings were being
used as makeshift barracks by armed Gideonite men. The sounds of
the horses’ hooves echoing between the buildings grabbed their
attention, but Pekah did not acknowledge the onlookers. Eli was as
silent as a rock.

The short street emptied into a small round
courtyard, punctuated by a beautifully carved stone fountain that
depicted an overflowing flower basket, with four spouts arcing into
a pool of clear water. A spillway from the pool filled a shallow,
covered aqueduct, which ran down the side of the fountain to become
part of the road before disappearing somewhere behind the walls of
a neighboring building. The escorting soldiers allowed a few
moments for Pekah and Eli to drink, and then hurried them on again,
out of the court and into the confines of another narrow
street.

This street was much like the first except
for the fact that the buildings here were all two-story. It also
emptied into another round courtyard, graced by yet another
fountain. Not as elaborate as the last, the sight of the fountain
did not hold Pekah’s attention. Worried about what he might say to
the emperor, his beating heart thumped in his chest, distracting
him from appreciating the picturesque balconies, exquisite iron
railings, and vibrant flower pots above him. He trudged onward.

When they broke free of the road and entered
into the central plaza of Ain, Pekah could see the sharp edges of
the eastern mountains in the distance, slicing Aqua and Azure as
they drooped ever lower. Soon the colors of dusk would burn lines
across the sky. Pekah was bothered by the lateness of the day. He
hoped they would still be able to deliver their message and avoid
staying the night in Ain.

Noticing that shadows from the buildings
obscured some details of the stone walls surrounding the immense
court, he traced their edges to the well-lit center of the city
plaza. There sat another wide and impressive sculptured fountain.
The awesome sight of it nearly took his breath away.

A huge granite bowl rested more than two
stories high upon three separate pedestal columns, whose footings
dipped into a perfectly round, raised pool. Flanking all sides of
the splashing pool were statues of lions. They stared outward as if
guarding the precious water, and their polished manes glistened in
the mist produced by the fountain’s clear curtains. Underground
aqueducts on opposing sides of the lower pool took the spring water
to various parts of the city, and the stone cobbles above them
betrayed their presence with a gentle rise. Near the northern edge
of the plaza, next to the spot where one of the aqueducts
disappeared behind a brick and mortar wall, Pekah could see
remnants of the original landscape. There was still a five-foot
rock outcropping that the builders of the city had chosen to pave
and build around, rather than remove.

Near the rock stood a most peculiar wooden
structure surrounded by several canvas tents. About nine feet tall,
fifty feet long, and forty feet wide, the building was made of
stained wood panels fastened together by slotted beams. These beams
were stained green, connected at the top to cross-members that in
turn were fitted with other wood panels, forming a pitched roof.
The structure was locked together at various joints by polished
brass pegs, and their accent against the richly stained panels
attested not only to the fact that this structure was portable, but
that it belonged to someone of wealth.

As they continued to walk, Pekah spied a
flag fluttering in the late evening breeze near one end of the
building, and he gulped. It was the banner of Manasseh. Sewn onto
the flapping cloth was a more detailed version of Aqua and Azure,
an image pressed into all Gideonite solars. With the intended goal
of their mission now imminent, he suddenly had the urge to flee. He
looked at Eli, whose jaw was set, his eyes wary.

Pekah wanted to express his anxiety to Eli,
even if he had to whisper, but the escorting soldiers stopped and
held them back with an upturned hand. One of them walked toward the
tents.

While they waited, Pekah observed the other
soldiers who milled about the plaza, and saw some of them leaving
in groups toward the west side of the city. Because of the constant
activity on that road, he suspected prisoners were being held in
that area.