The Chronicles of Gan: The Thorn (20 page)

When Jonathan asked about the flags, Eli
filled in the rest of the story, including the dreams of General
Jasher and Captain Amon. As Eli described the procession that
flowed into the prison area, declaring the freedom of all with an
end to the conflict, Jonathan grinned. He reached out and shook
Pekah’s hand. “Thank you, my dear friend. I couldn’t have hoped for
a better outcome. You have brought about an end to this war!”

Tavor spurred his horse closer.
“Jonathan—this is actually just part of the army of Gideon. Much
work remains to be done in order to truly end the war.”

Tavor is right,
Pekah thought.
General
Jasher may have aligned with the other tribes, but Rezon has not.
At least, not yet.

There wasn’t much talk after that. Pekah had
other things he wanted to say, but noticed that Jonathan had a
far-off look in his eyes, as if he were somewhere else, and chose
not to disturb him. The last minutes of the journey passed by with
only the gentle clomping of hooves reaching his ears.

They arrived at the gates to find them open,
Danielite families gathered both outside the walls and in the
courtyard, all assembled for their various journeys back to their
homesteads around Ain. Avoiding the noisy crowd, the riders pressed
on, past the tents and down the street that would lead them to the
central courtyard.

The first time Pekah and Eli traveled this
way, most of the neighboring buildings had either been abandoned or
filled with Gideonite soldiers. They were now occupied by Danielite
businessmen and families, spending their time tidying up their
various properties. The laughter of children was a most welcome
sound, but what touched Pekah most was seeing Gideonite soldiers
working side-by-side with Danielites and Uzzahites in repairing
broken doors, railings, and windows.

At one residence, two dark-haired soldiers
had hung their armor over a post and were in the process of taking
orders from an elderly Danielite woman as to where she wanted a
large clay flowerpot moved on her flagstone porch. The woman had a
gentle hand on the shoulder of the soldier next to her. The other
one gazed up from where he knelt as if she were his dearest
grandmother. This display of service by men who, just hours before,
had been considered conquerors of the city, brought tears to
Pekah’s eyes.

Arriving at the grand central fountain, they
found themselves surrounded by a large host of Gideonite soldiers.
The gathered crowd listened intently to General Jasher, who stood
behind a makeshift podium set up on the exposed floor of the
portable stateroom. Pekah rose in his saddle to see if the throne
was still occupied, but it was empty. He pulled back on the reins
so he could ask a man standing below him what had been done with
the body of the emperor.

“They took Manasseh’s body out of the city
and burned it in a funeral pyre,” came the reply.

Pekah thanked the man for the information
and spurred his mount to catch up to the group.

The travelers arrived together near the
northeast corner of the platform and dismounted. A loud cheer arose
from the crowd as General Jasher announced he had released all
prisoners, and some were already returning to their homes. Even
with the clamor, Jasher noticed the arrival of Pekah’s group. He
nodded with recognition as one of the escorting Gideonite soldiers
raised his hand in greeting.

“Men of Gideon, my friends of Daniel and
Uzzah,” Jasher thundered to the crowd once the noise died down, “we
have just one more duty to perform, a duty to make right the wrongs
that have been done by our people. We must travel to the other
lands of Daniel and of Uzzah. We need to counsel with Rezon, in
hopes that he will abandon his oath to wage this war. I am not the
man to plead the cause for peace, yet there is now one among us to
whom this right belongs.

“Pekah,” Jasher called, pointing. “Please
bring your friend before us, that we may see him together.”

A hush went through the crowd, and all heads
turned toward Pekah. Estimating those listening to be in the
hundreds, perhaps even a thousand, he threw a nervous, silent plea
to his companions, to which they responded with encouragement. Eli
nudged him toward the steps. Tavor and Jonathan followed him for
support, but Eli stayed below near Rachel.

As Pekah trudged toward Jasher, he surveyed
the huge assemblage below him. There seemed to be a general
attitude of anticipation from the soldiers around the platform, but
there were many new faces gathered in the plaza that had not been
present earlier in the day. He wondered if they had made the same
covenant with Jasher. Because of the concern and distrust that
darkened their faces, he doubted it.

Pekah could see many seasoned soldiers
present—captains of ten and captains of fifty, and others who were
surely from the late emperor’s personal guard. The expectation in
their eyes made him nervous. Others before him appeared to be
angry. He followed their disapproving glare toward Tavor and
Jonathan. These soldiers would be the most difficult to convince to
join Jasher’s cause.

Jasher motioned Pekah to take his place
before the assemblage, which he did somewhat reluctantly. He
cleared his throat, and addressed them with a traditional Gideonite
greeting, “Prosperity and a safe haven for you all!” This prompted
an echoed, “And to you!” from the crowd.

Pekah’s knees trembled. He cleared his
throat again, and with a shaking, open hand, presented Jonathan to
the soldiers below. “This is Jonathan, son of Samuel, and the heir
of Daniel. He has come seeking peace, and desires your help so all
may go home to their families and be comforted from the losses and
pains suffered in past weeks—pains and losses that have caused all
The Brothers to mourn. Will you join with Jasher and with Jonathan,
so peace may be accomplished?” As the words came forth, he was
surprised by their strength.

Apart from those who had already covenanted
to join Jasher’s cause, there were a few more declarations of
enlistment among the other soldiers. Most were younger men who
shouldered little or no visible authority. Other soldiers in the
crowd, many of them older, remained stolid, unaffected by Pekah’s
announcement. One grizzled, battle-hardened individual even spat on
the ground when Pekah paused for reaction. Pekah noticed, but his
resolve strengthened, a well of power springing up within. His
hands steadied, and his knees held firm. He even felt taller.

“Just two days ago, after
a sleepless night, a son of Daniel and a son of Uzzah shared with
me the story of the Raven of Gideon. I am now in my twenty-third
year, and never before had I heard this tale, even from my own
people. How long has it been,” Pekah demanded, “since Gideon has
led
any
brother
lost in foggy paths out into the bright light of day?”

Not a single voice rose from the crowd.

“When did Gideon forget the charge given to
him by Father Noah, to care for all, and to bring them into safe
havens?”

Again, there was no response.

Pekah felt his face redden
with irritation. His voice almost cracked with frustration as he
pressed them again: “
How long has it
been?
What has Daniel or Uzzah done to
merit this aggression from one who
should
be their brother?”

The gray-bearded soldier
stepped forward, and those around him parted like water. His boots
stomped out echoes upon the stones of the courtyard, noises that
seemed out of place as the rest of the soldiers stood in silence.
He pulled at his beard, and then drew his belt dagger, pointing it
in a most menacing fashion at Pekah. “
You
, my young son,” the soldier
snarled, “have misplaced your trust in Daniel and Uzzah. Your
Gideonite brethren have been oppressed for many years by the
Danielite and his family. Manasseh himself, a man blessed by
visions from heaven, was directed to ask for the scepter of
judgment . . .
and was
denied
. Daniel will not allow any other to
hold or to possess it.”

Pekah stood dumbfounded at the audacity of
the man. Young and inexperienced as he was, he knew full well
Manasseh had no right to the scepter, and had certainly never
“asked” for it. His plan was to take it forcibly. Captain Sachar
himself had proven that fact as he murdered the rightful owner of
the relic.

“You are misinformed,” Pekah fumed.

The old man bristled at the accusation, and
stepped closer to the podium where Pekah stood.

Searching for support, Pekah saw he was now
flanked on the left by Jonathan and Tavor, and on the other side by
the general. Jasher’s teeth showed, his smile wide. The general’s
expression startled Pekah, and he almost didn’t hear the response
of the old soldier.

“General Rezon is the emperor’s servant,”
the Gideonite soldier continued. “I was with Rezon personally when
he asked the old Danielite judge for the scepter. Manasseh sent us
to request it, and we were denied.”

“It’s true!” yelled another soldier. “I was
with Kalev on that day.”

Recognition lit up Jonathan’s face. He
pulled on Pekah’s sleeve, and he stepped back so they could talk
privately. The crowd murmured.

“Pekah,” Jonathan
whispered. “I remember this particular soldier. He rode into Hasor
as part of the escort with General Rezon, many months previous.
Word came to my father that the Gideonite emperor had sent a small
band north for some unexplained reason. I hid in the palace gardens
and watched them as they approached my father, who was pruning and
grafting trees. The Gideonite men did request the scepter,
but
not
in a
diplomatic manner. From my place of hiding, I had an arrow trained
on the general’s chest. Rezon threatened my father, saying that if
we did not comply, he would return with a greater force to take
it.”

“General Rezon demanded that it be given to
him?”

“Yes, but my father replied that the scepter
was not his to give.”

Pekah thanked Jonathan and stepped back
toward the noisy crowd, mulling over the new information. He was
annoyed by the half-truths spoken by the stubborn Gideonite. An
idea formed in his mind. He pulled the pouch from around his neck,
having nearly forgotten it still hung there. Carefully loosening
the drawstrings of the bag, he removed the purple cloth within.
After unrolling the rod, he lifted it high. It glittered in the
late afternoon suns.

“Kalev, is
this
the scepter you
were seeking?”

Gasps and whispers floated above the crowd
like hovering bees.

Pekah stood with his arm outstretched. He
moved the glass rod back and forth, causing reflections to spill in
every direction. With a wry smile, Pekah stared at Kalev.

“I seem to have
accomplished the very thing you claim could not be done, and I did
not even
ask
for
it! This scepter was placed in my hands by Jonathan, Daniel’s heir.
I shall never forget his words. He said, ‘I am giving this to you,
in hopes that it may be an instrument in convincing Manasseh to end
his aggression toward our peoples.’ Jonathan told me I was to use
it in trade for prisoners, if need be.”

Pekah now glared at the
old soldier. “As you can see, Daniel does not have the
scepter.
Gideon
does.”

Murmurs became arguments, and Pekah wondered
if they were sounds of surprise or disdain. He peered over to get
the general’s reaction. Jasher glowed with pride, almost as if
Pekah were his son. Embarrassed, Pekah looked at the ground. He
lowered the rod and returned it to its protective cover. With some
degree of regained composure, Pekah threw one last barb.

“Even though the Danielite
next to me has not asked for it to be returned, I do not claim The
Thorn to be mine. It is certainly
not
yours.”

With that bold statement, the crowd erupted,
unintelligible yells coming from some areas and cheers from
others.

Kalev was furious. He fiddled with the
pommel of the sword at his side, his gaze fixed on Jonathan. Pekah
did not flinch. General Jasher moved up to the edge of the platform
with hands raised, challenging the crowd.

“You have now seen what I have seen. Daniel
is no aggressor. The emperor deceived us all. It is our duty to end
this conflict. Pekah has joined with Daniel and Uzzah, as have I.
Will you also join me?”

This time, there were far more Gideonite
soldiers raising their arms in token than there had been a few
minutes before. Still, in addition to Kalev, there were several
other soldiers who gathered into a tighter group, refusing to
accept Jasher’s challenge. Defiant, they stood in the midst, some
with weapons drawn.

One of them, a few years younger and taller
than Kalev, spoke up. “We . . . we will not. We are men of Gideon.
We will not make an alliance with Danielites.”

After all the explanation and testimony
given, this refusal angered Jasher. He loomed tall and menacing as
he approached the very edge of the wooden platform. Shocked that
Jasher’s authority as General of the Host of Gideon was being
defied, Pekah leaned in, hoping to catch every word.

“You may have desires
within your hearts to refuse, but as your commanding officer, I am
now giving you an order. Gideon will march with Uzzah
and
Daniel to stop
Rezon’s attack on the northern cities. Yet I cannot have dissenters
in our midst. Therefore, I am giving you a choice: either you will
return to your homes in peace and renounce this war until the end
of your days, or you will be found guilty of sedition. You will
forfeit your lives.” He paused. “What say you?”