The Chronicles of Gan: The Thorn (31 page)

As Jonathan drew near to the east side of
its massive trunk, he found the mound of backfill from a recently
dug grave several paces away. He removed his sword, bow, and
quiver, and then knelt at the edge of the mound. Fists resting on
the ground, he poured out his soul in prayer. At first he could
only think of the scene within the Council Hall—the glow of his
sword, the vandalized book shelves and debris piles, and his father
clothed in blood-stained robes. But with everything that had
changed in the past few days, his thoughts refocused on the
miraculous turn of events since he had met Pekah.

Instead of pleading for comfort, he gave
thanks. He reviewed each of the miracles he had witnessed, and
conversed with his God and King as if He were there beside him. As
he did so, he realized that being driven from Hasor had been a
great blessing. His father’s sacrifice had been turned to good. As
he prayed, he felt certain that Samuel was a guiding participant in
all of it.

Unaware of how much time had passed,
Jonathan once again became cognizant of his surroundings. He wiped
tears from his cheeks with the back of his hand and then ran his
fingers through the soft dirt, churning the soil in his hands
before dropping it and retrieving more. He looked for Eli and
Pekah, but they still held back to give him some privacy. They were
silent.

Jonathan patted the dirt firm, then grabbed
his belongings and turned to rejoin his friends. His eyes were
bleary, but surprisingly, he found the strength to put a smile on
his face.

“Are you going to be all right?” Eli
asked.

Jonathan thought for a moment, and nodded.
“Yes. I’m fine. Do you mind if we go into the Council Hall for a
few minutes before joining Amon in the courtyard?”

“We have enough time,” Eli said. “But
why?”

“You shall see.”

They left the gardens to
enter the village by way of the south
gates, broken down by the invading army of Gideon just days
before. Following the cobbled roads that led to the temple and
Council Hall, the three men passed the barn where Jonathan had
hidden during the siege. Arriving at the Council Hall, they found
that Amon was nearly ready to depart. Jonathan hurried them inside
and shut the door.

Jonathan drew in his breath at the sight
before him. He had expected the same mess of torn books, overturned
tables, spilled candles, and broken furniture that he had left the
night of his escape, but the room was now tidy and clean. A few
pieces of furniture were missing, namely several of the chairs from
around the Council Table, but everything else seemed to be in its
proper place.

The table held a few damaged books,
hand-inked pages previously torn from their bindings now stacked in
neat piles next to the volumes. Other than those awaiting
restoration, the books had been placed back on the shelves.
Jonathan examined the floor where his father had lain between the
judgment seat and the back door. Even the blood stains had been
removed from the smooth stone. He wondered who had cleaned up the
hall.

Walking over to the books on the northern
wall, he saw they were all correctly filed. “Someone from Daniel
placed these in their proper locations,” he observed. He looked
around the room again and remembered his purpose for coming.

“Pekah,” Jonathan said as he turned to look
at the new captain of Gideon, “I haven’t asked for The Thorn to be
returned to me. I gave it freely. But I would rather not take it
with us into battle with Rezon.”

Pekah appeared to be embarrassed. “I forgot
I still had the pouch around my neck.” He removed the pouch, then
opened it to retrieve the cloth bundle, which he handed to
Jonathan. “I’m sorry.”

“No apology needed. I considered you the
steward of the scepter.” Jonathan grinned, and then repeated,
“Steward of the Scepter—I like that.”

Pekah smiled.

“Eli, Pekah, I want you to see where this is
stored, but I don’t want anyone else to know. Would you mind
locking the doors, please?”

Eli hastened to the back of the hall, and
Pekah went to the front. They locked both doors, then returned to
watch.

Jonathan looked at Pekah
and said with amusement, “And
this
, my dear Gideonite captain, is
why you and the late Sachar never found The Thorn!”

He went to the judgment seat and sat down,
and while firmly pressing his left heel against a small protruding
piece of stone at the base, he twisted the right armrest outward.
Placing the cloth-wrapped scepter in the revealed compartment, he
slid the armrest back into place until it clicked, then rose from
the seat. He looked up to see shock on Pekah’s face. Eli simply
laughed out loud.

“Please keep this a secret,” he asked. “I
don’t believe any other living person knows about this hiding
place, and I would prefer to keep it that way for now. But we are
going into battle, and if something happens to me, I don’t want to
be the only one who knows where it is.” Then with feeling, he
added, “I trust you both with my life.”

Eli grabbed Jonathan up and squeezed him
hard, making Jonathan choke out a laugh before he let go.

“You are my very dearest friend, Nate. I
would do anything to protect you. And . . .” Eli paused momentarily
as if to be sure Pekah was listening. “ . . . Pekah already
has.”

Pekah glowed. Eli gave a small bow of
respect in his direction, making him redden even more.

Jonathan thanked Eli for his sincere
loyalty. Turning to Pekah, he said, “Your humility is evident, but
Eli’s right. You have done some amazing things in the last week. I
thank you again for saving my life.”

Pekah stumbled over his words. “You are
welcome.”

The three men then left the Council
Hall.

They found Amon’s company ready to ride, and
it was apparent that Amon had been waiting for them. Even Rachel
and Abigail were on their mounts next to the general. Rachel threw
Jonathan a look of disgust, but then broke into a smile.

“I hope I won’t have to wait this long for
your letter of marriage to arrive,” Rachel teased.

Jonathan shrugged,
pretending not to know what she meant. “Am I late? I am
so
sorry. Please forgive
me.”

This made Rachel laugh, and Abigail managed
a smile.

Amon called for attention, then asked Tavor
if he would pray to their Creator and Protector for deliverance.
Tavor graciously accepted. The priest of Uzzah stayed on his horse,
but bowed his head and loudly offered a prayer that all could
hear—a humble petition, heartfelt, and sincere. On behalf of the
united army, he requested protection and success, then closed with
tokens of gratitude, all of which were echoed by a communal
“amen.”

The general thanked Tavor for his petitions.
With a waved command, they left the walls of the village of Hasor
and started down the northern road.

Blinding dust clouds rose from the wide and
well-traveled road to Ramathaim as the thundering hooves of more
than two hundred horses hastened on their way. Pekah, Ezra, and
Tavor all rode near Amon, each at the head of their fifty, and
Jonathan, Eli, the women, and all of Amon’s support staff traveled
in the rear. Many of the mounts in the final group were burdened
with provisions, tents, and other supplies. As they began to fall
behind, Amon gave the order for them to catch up later. The
distance to Ramathaim was normally a very full day by donkey-drawn
cart or by foot. But with the horses, Jonathan calculated that
Amon’s company would make it to the Holy City sometime after Azure
and Aqua were high overhead, well before the cool of the evening
set in.

Dirt that had turned to powder testified of
the thousands who recently marched that way. Jonathan suspected
Captain Mehida’s host had traveled far during the night. Feeling
sure they would not find the army until they were nearly to the
Holy City of Uzzah, he hoped Mehida’s army would not be exhausted
by their forced march.

Those hopes were bolstered a few hours later
when they found signs Mehida had camped sometime before dawn. Amon
called for the company to halt. The gurgle of a familiar stream
promised an opportunity to water the horses. On their way to the
stream, they passed an abandoned fire-pit. The general bent down to
check its warmth with his palm.

“The coals are still alive. I expect we will
catch up with Captain Mehida within the next hour or two.”

“Ramathaim isn’t far,” said an Uzzahite
soldier in their midst, his tone anxious.

Jonathan noticed fear in the eyes of some of
the younger soldiers around him, the implications of being so close
to their goal finally settling in. A few of them, mostly
Danielites, expressed their misgivings about going into battle,
causing conversations to center on the gruesome work of death that
would soon be required in order to subdue General Rezon and protect
the inhabitants of the Holy City. Dread settled over the entire
company like a pall, the sudden change in mood felt by
everyone.

The thought of participating in the
impending battle soured Jonathan’s stomach. Grateful as he was for
Amon’s leadership, and for the great change wrought upon Jasher’s
army, Jonathan found it difficult to soften the bitter anger he
felt in his heart. As long as the war continued, he doubted he
would find peace in his soul. Even though he wanted nothing more to
do with the war, he had no choice. Rezon had to be stopped.

Jonathan pushed his own need for peace out
of his mind. Standing near Rachel while their horses took water, he
reached for her hand. “Do you need anything?”

“I’m fine. Tired of riding, but fine,”
Rachel said, her response anxious.

Jonathan wasn’t convinced. Although she did
not complain, he could tell she was not only weary, but perhaps
even afraid. He stayed close to her until Amon suggested that they
be on their way.

Amon’s eagerness to catch up to Mehida’s
army caused them to ride harder than they had all morning, but the
determined pace helped ease some of the heavy burden on their
hearts. When they stopped for their mid-day meal—or mid-day snack,
as Eli had termed it—they ate standing up. Again they rode with the
speed of a falcon to its prey.

Just as predicted, they caught up to
Mehida’s thousands on the edge of the foothills, the sharp peaks of
the Hara Range looming before them. As they rode into the ranks, a
cheer went up from Mehida’s men. Many of the soldiers wished health
and prosperity upon the heir of Daniel as he passed by them.
Somewhat embarrassed by being singled out, Jonathan managed to
greet them politely, wishing them the same.

“Welcome, General Amon,” Mehida said with a
salute as the company approached the head of the column.

“Thank you, Mehida. You have done very well
in your march. Are the men still strong?”

“Yes, sir. We rested for several hours this
morning, and they seem to be as fresh as they were yesterday. What
are your orders, sir?”

“No specific orders at this time, Captain.
We are here to march with you. I’m grateful for your strength. My
men feel the weight of the coming battle, but we will march to
Ramathaim with our proud banners declaring the unity of this Army
of Brothers.”

Soldiers from Gideon, Daniel, and Uzzah, who
were close enough to hear the general name the army, all shouted,
“Hosanna!” Others added their voices as the expression was repeated
again, followed by the entire host joining in yet a third time,
their shout loud enough to reach the heavens. The rumble of their
declaration seemed to shake the very ground upon which they stood.
The heaviness of fear lifted, replaced by a thrilling feeling of
purpose. For a moment, Jonathan felt nothing in the universe could
prevent them from accomplishing their goal.

With great excitement, the men holding the
green and white banners of Gideon, the purple and white of Daniel,
and the blue and white of Uzzah, waved them back and forth in front
of the Army of Brothers. At Amon’s command, they marched onward
together, toward glory or defeat, according to the mercy of the
Holy One in whom they trusted.

Chapter 30

Vengeance

G
eneral Rezon!” the messenger shouted as he ran toward the
observation hut.

Rezon and Jael both turned and watched as
the messenger stumbled up the hill, clearly exhausted by his
efforts in the hot afternoon suns. The messenger saluted in a
sloppy manner before bending over to catch his breath. Impatient,
Rezon ordered the man to speak. With some difficulty, he spat out
the information he had just learned from scouts on the southern
patrols.

“An army is approaching. It is as we were
told . . . an army of Gideon, Daniel, and Uzzah! They are less than
an hour away!”

Cursing angrily, Rezon looked at Jael.

“I will kill every one of
them
myself!”
Jael spewed, his voice filled with venom.

Rezon turned back to study the outer wall of
Ramathaim. The protective arches of the front entrance had just
fallen, fully exposing the main gates. Most of the rubble had
fallen to one side, leaving plenty of room to get a ram near the
reinforced doors. Glaring out the hut window, he could see two
covered battering rams that had been pushed up near the central
catapult. Housed within A-frames on wheels, the capped rams were
protected by steep, sloping roofs covered with wet furs, soaked
overnight to make them more fire resistant. Teams of soldiers
waited alongside rope handles intended for swinging the suspended
ram.

“Are there only two rams?” Rezon asked
Jael.

“Yes. More are being constructed, but these
are the only two ready.”