The Chronicles of Gan: The Thorn (35 page)

“Are you sure?” Eli asked, an eyebrow
raised. “I thought the other side wouldn’t be so bad.”

Pekah’s eyes closed. After he opened them,
Jonathan saw that his eyes were moist. “No, it wasn’t bad. In fact,
it was the most incredible experience I’ve ever had, but I knew I
needed to come back. My mother was there, and she told me.”

Stillness settled upon the room. No one said
a word, not even Sarah. Jonathan felt particularly hesitant to
delve deeper into Pekah’s experience. Only once before had he heard
someone tell of spending time in the world of spirits. He yearned
to hear more about the afterlife—to know what it might be like for
his own parents who were there, to glimpse in his mind’s eye the
scenery, the people, the feeling, the light—but he simply could not
ask. Pekah would have to volunteer it.

“Jonathan?” Pekah asked.

“Yes?”

Pekah fidgeted with the last apple slice
sitting beside the leftover bread crumbs on his plate.

“Yes
?”

Pekah looked up. Intense sadness pulled at
his mouth and brow. “Lady Abigail . . . I wonder if Jasher has . .
.” Pekah did not finish either of his sentences.

“I’m not sure what you’re asking. What about
Jasher?”

“If Jasher has brothers who are not married,
then shouldn’t one of them take Abigail to themselves and provide
for her?”

Eli spoke before Jonathan could reply. “Yes,
Pekah, I think you’re right. That would be proper. And besides,
there is—”

Jonathan held up his hand. Eli stopped and
stared at him.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you, Eli, but Amon
told me several things I need to share with Pekah.” He turned
toward the Gideonite captain. “The night Jasher died, I also
wondered if he had any family. I took General Amon aside, and we
had a conversation about it. I asked the same questions.”

Although tempted to share
the reason for his asking, he did not.
I’ll tell Pekah about the dream later,
he thought.
Besides, I’m not sure
what it means anyway.
He decided to keep
it simple.

“Pekah, Jasher had no brothers. He was the
oldest of five, and his siblings were all sisters. He had no male
cousins. It seems as though there is not a single living male
member of his family who can fulfill this duty. Is that what you
needed to know?”

Pekah’s head bowed low under the weight of
what he had heard. Jonathan gave him time to absorb the
information. When Pekah finally looked up at Jonathan, concern
still clouded his face. “How can I do this? Why did Jasher choose
me?”

Jonathan didn’t answer right away. Trying to
offer Pekah a reassuring look, he said, “Jasher had been deeply
impressed by you. Your experience as you stood before Manasseh was
sacred to him. He saw you protected by the power of the Holy One,
and commented on it several times as we rode between Ain and Hasor.
Jasher watched you intently during those two days.” Jonathan placed
his hand on Pekah’s shoulder and finished with, “Amon himself said,
Jasher could not have chosen better.”

The distress in Pekah’s face visibly
softened. “I will not force her to marry me.”

“I would not expect that. Abigail must
choose this on her own. Take some time to get to know her. If she’s
comfortable with the idea, she’ll let you know.”

“From what I’ve seen, Abigail won’t have a
problem with it,” Eli said. “Jonathan, did you not see the woman
rush to him after he walked out of the tent?”

Jonathan nodded with a grin, and Pekah
blushed at the memory. He hadn’t expected Abigail to throw her arms
around his neck like she did, once she’d overcome her surprise. She
obviously did not consider him revolting.

Popping an apple slice into his mouth, Pekah
stood. “I appreciate your ideas—you’ve made me feel much more
comfortable. Abigail may still choose to go a different way, but if
she decides to honor Jasher’s request, I will at least consider it.
Sarah?”

Sarah glanced back from feeding the
boys.

“Thank you again for your hospitality.”

Jonathan, Eli, and Tavor all stood and
offered their thanks. Tavor stepped to his wife and kissed her.

“You’re welcome. Where are you all going
this morning?” Sarah asked.

“We’re meeting General Amon at the city
gates,” Tavor replied. “Some unfinished business—and then we’ll be
back for Sabbath worship services.”

“Unfinished business?”

“A party is being sent into the mountains
tomorrow to seek out Rezon and those who escaped with him,” Eli
responded.

Sarah threw Eli a chastising look. “Surely
you and Jonathan are not joining them? What of your own wounds? You
both need rest.”

“Thank you for your concern, Sarah,”
Jonathan replied. “But my leg is well enough that I can travel by
horseback.”

Eli shrugged his shoulders. His left forearm
was still thickly bandaged, but Jonathan knew his stubbornness
would not allow him to sit idly by.

“Go on, then!” Sarah said, scowling at Tavor
as if she expected him to intervene and make them stay.

After a futile attempt to avoid her glaring
eyes, Tavor said, “You’re right, my dear. But do you honestly think
they’ll listen to me?”

“No, I suppose not.” Sarah sighed. She
frowned at each of them, causing them all to drop their gaze.
Having made her point, she waved them out of the house.

Once outside, Jonathan put a hand on Tavor’s
shoulder. “Thank you!”

Tavor only winked.

Chapter 33

Duty

J
onathan followed Eli as he and the others descended the
steep, enclosed street where Tavor’s home crowded against other
two-story stone residences. A few balconies above them were
enshrouded with laundry hung out to dry. Sunlight bathed the men in
warmth once again when they passed onto the wider streets below the
temple, bordered on every side by tents. Normally filled with
hawking vendors of all kinds, today the tents were devoid of sales
activity. The few citizens who did walk the street waved cheerfully
or gave friendly greetings pertaining to the holy day, each exuding
a palpable feeling of relief from escaping the fears of the day
before. The smiles and pleasant exchanges warmed Jonathan’s
heart.

After arriving at the entrance to the city,
they passed through the outer gate house to walk between the fallen
archway stones. Jonathan could see the army of Amon in the
distance. Making their way down to the grid of burial mounds that
scarred the grassy field, they turned to avoid them and followed
the road. As they neared the place where the army had assembled,
Jonathan could see that the Gideonite captains were in the process
of sending thousands of soldiers home—those who had abandoned
Rezon.

Riding in the direction of the southern
mountains of Gideon, Captain Mehida rode at their head. Jonathan
could see him wave back to Amon before he rounded a bend and
disappeared behind one of the many hills hugging the road. The
ground still trembled from the many hundreds bringing up the rear
as Jonathan and his friends approached the general, who was
standing by the roadside. They all saluted.

“Good morning!” Amon greeted them with
vigor, his deep voice booming.

“Good morning, General,” Jonathan said. Eli
echoed his reply.

“Peace be to you, General,” Pekah said, in
Uzzahite fashion.

“And to you,” Amon returned.

Pekah straightened. “I am here to report for
duty, sir. What do you desire of me?”

Amon seemed surprised by the question.
“Duty?” he asked. He stepped back as if to study the young
Gideonite captain.

Jonathan’s eyes followed
Amon’s—he also saw Pekah’s wavy black hair, dark eyes, light skin,
and thin smile. They were all the same as before, and yet Pekah
wasn’t. Jonathan now saw before him a man who carried himself
differently.
This Gideonite soldier has
grown in wisdom
, he thought.

Straightening, Amon looked squarely at
Pekah. “Your duty, Captain, was fulfilled. If you desire it, you
are released from service. We serve until death, do we not?”

Pekah blinked.

“Not what you expected?”

“Released, sir?”

“Yes, you are. When you joined the Host of
Gideon—mind you, I did not say the army of the emperor—the oath of
service you gave to Gideon was to last until you were released by a
general of the Host, or until you can no longer serve because of
injury or death. On account of your recent death,” Amon said,
winking, “I certainly consider your oath fulfilled.”

Eli laughed.

Amon grinned, apparently
amused. “Do you know what the troops are saying now? The rumors are
rampant! You have become far,
far
more than just mere legend!”

Pekah’s eyes were wide, but he did not
ask.

Jonathan asked for him. “What are they
saying?”

“Many of them were present
on the morning when Pekah and I first met.” Amon’s eyes danced.
“Now they are saying, ‘Captain Pekah cannot be killed. Three times
has it been attempted, and he either will not die, or he will not
stay dead’
.
” Amon
chuckled.

At first, Pekah acted as
though he didn’t know what to say. But then the humor of the moment
took him, and his wit jumped out. “Apparently my enemies have not
used the right weapon—before yesterday, the casual glance of a
beautiful girl has always struck my heart
much
deeper.”

Jonathan and Eli both snickered.

Amon raised his hands.
“The troops are serious about it, though,” he said, still
chuckling. “They call you
Azmaveth—
strength in
death.”

Now serious, Pekah shrugged it off. “I am
nothing.”

“Choose to be nothing if you want,” Eli
teased. “I still like you as Pekah.”

Pekah kicked at a rock, sending it
skittering down the road in the direction of the last marching
troops, now far away. Humor gone from Pekah’s face, Jonathan could
see that something still troubled the Gideonite captain. Pekah
looked up at Amon.

“I need some time to weigh things in my
mind, General. The oath I made to Gideon remains important to me. I
gave it upon my honor.” Pekah glanced at Jonathan. “I have also
promised my service to the heir of Daniel. Thank you for the
official release from service, but at this time I still wish to
ride with these men.”

“So be it,” Amon replied. “I understand that
your oath to Jonathan of Daniel still remains. They are leaving
tomorrow to find Rezon. I assume you are well enough to travel with
them?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you, Pekah,” Jonathan said.

“I plan to remain here for at least two
days,” Amon said. “I’m meeting with the Council of Ramathaim
tomorrow. Uzziel invited me to attend. I will then return to Gideon
before Rezon can, should he attempt to do so. I’m taking documents
of treaty from Uzzah and Daniel, and once I have presented them
before a newly formed Council of Gideon—and forming this council
will surely need to be done, now that Manasseh does not lead—then,
I hope to return to witness the Anointing.”

“Anointing?” Pekah asked, appearing
confused.

Eli looked at Jonathan, checking for his
permission. Jonathan gave a nod.

“Pekah,” Eli said, “now that this conflict
is over, Daniel remains without a judge and king. Samuel is dead,
and Jonathan is the heir. He will be made king and judge over
Daniel.”

“And my desire,” Amon added, “is that when I
return to Gideon with the hopes of The Brothers in my heart, they
will side with me, and war will cease between us forever. Gideon
will remain a free people, just as Uzzah and Daniel, but . . .”
Amon trailed off, folding his arms. With emotion, he finished. “I
want Gideon to join with Daniel, just as Uzzah has done. Separate,
yet supporting. To counsel with, and to assist. I want the pains
and prejudices to be no more. I have seen how Uzzah and Daniel live
in peace. I want nothing less for Gideon.”

Jonathan’s chest tightened, deeply touched
by Amon’s statement. “General, thank you,” he said. “I wish for the
same peace between our peoples. But somehow—this time—it must be
different. I don’t think it’s possible to keep this good feeling
between The Brothers unless we are more involved with each other.
For how many years have there been suspicions, tensions, unfounded
rumors, and accusations between our peoples?”

Amon was thoughtful, but then he agreed.
“There must be change, but I don’t know how to change it.”

“I do,” Jonathan said
without hesitation, greatly excited by the opportunity to change
the course of his kingdom. “Amon, you will surely sit on the
Council of Gideon as General of the Host. I would expect nothing
less. But will you also sit on
my
council? My father always had both Uzzah and
Daniel in the twelve council seats of Hasor, six from each
tribe—and they all shared their wisdom with a humble judge. But
this arrangement is no longer sufficient. Would you join me by
sitting on that council, one of four from Gideon, that all tribes
might be represented equally?”

Amon’s face flushed. “Yes, I would be
honored!”

“Also, I would like Captain Mehida to sit on
the Council,” Jonathan said. “He has greatly impressed me. Do you
think he would accept?”

“Of course I do. Mehida believes in the work
that has been done to unite us. He’ll accept the charge with
gladness.”

“The fourth seat, however, I cannot fill on
my own. I don’t know who among Gideon is like unto Amon, and
Mehida, and . . .” Jonathan then looked directly at his Gideonite
friend, the one who had saved his life on the road to Ain. Being an
only child, Jonathan never had a brother—Eli had been the closest
thing to it. Jonathan now felt similar feelings growing for Pekah.
“. . . and like unto Pekah,” Jonathan continued. “Pekah, will you
sit with the Council? Your presence there would honor us all.”