The Chronicles of Gan: The Thorn (4 page)

A bit
dusty
, he thought to himself,
but still very usable.

The summer night air felt quite warm, both
outside and inside the cave, but the soft woolen blankets pulled to
his chin still comforted him. He lay there with his head turned and
stared out the moons-lit cave entrance. When tears came again,
Jonathan attempted to pray, but his troubled thoughts prevented him
from concentrating. Eventually weariness overcame him, and he
entered a fitful sleep.

Chapter
5

Memories

M
orning came, and Jonathan awoke to the singing of forest
songbirds. Warmth and brightness crept into the cave, telling him
of a sky both clear and cloudless. The angle of illumination in the
passageway also told him he had slept far longer into the day than
he had intended. Remembering the events of the evening, he sat up
with a sigh. His hunger manifested itself in a strong growl. He had
not eaten anything since the mid-day meal the previous day.
Jonathan pressed the bedding into a tight roll and secured it with
leather thongs. He pulled his boots on, then sat on the bedroll
with the supply sack between his feet to take inventory of his
cache.

The provisions were scanty—a mere two days’
worth of food, and that would be stretching it. There was a round
of shepherd’s bread wrapped in a towel and some dried, spiced meat.
He also found a half-round of goat cheese, raisins and dried apples
in gourds with lids, and a small skin of wine.

Well
, he thought,
not a king’s ransom,
but a good variety, even if it is a small portion.

Jonathan decided it would be prudent to eat
only enough to curb his hunger, so he ate a chunk of the crusty
bread and some dried apples. On the back wall of the cave, a damp
trickle of a spring crawled down from the ceiling and disappeared
into a crack in the rock. Using a stashed wooden cup to catch the
water, he filled and drained it several times until his thirst was
quenched. He filled the cup two more times, splashing the cool,
clear liquid over his head so he could wash the dust from his face
and short-trimmed beard.

Jonathan then went to work and coiled the
rope from the guard tower to a suitable size to be slung across his
chest. He tested the tension on the bowstring by pulling it to his
chin with ease. He then arranged the arrows in the quiver to be
sure they had not become entangled. He strapped on his belt,
sheathed his boot dagger, donned his large gray cloak, and grabbed
his shoulder sack and quiver. Then he made his way through the low
passageway to the ledge. Once outside, the brightness of the
morning suns made him blink as his eyes adjusted to the light. He
sat and dangled his feet for a few minutes while he thought about
his plans.

The mid-morning heat would soon make travel
far less enjoyable. Behind him and above the rocky cliffs, the
small twin solar disks of Azure and Aqua had climbed from the
western horizon and into the dark blue expanse above him. The suns’
distance made them visually small, and Jonathan could block them
both with his little finger by lifting his hand skyward. Yet the
two suns were still so intensely hot and bright that they would
blind a man if he were to look straight at them. Jonathan could see
that the sun Azure was near to its companion Aqua, and knew that
the next morning during their rising, Azure would pass in front of
the lighter blue sun, marking the start of the Sabbath day. The
purplish hue in the summer sky now surrounding Azure was beautiful
to him.

As Jonathan sat on the rocky ledge, he still
felt a fatigue as deep as his bones. He ran his hands through his
shoulder-length brown hair to untangle it, and scratched his beard.
He then reached into the pocket of his undershirt, retrieving the
cloth bundle hidden there. With deep respect, Jonathan unrolled the
cloth in his hands. A picture of a red serpent inside a white
circle had been embroidered on the soft, purple square of linen.
The Mark of the Serpent signified the Tribe of Daniel.

In the opened cloth lay a stunningly
beautiful rod about seven inches in length and an inch or so thick.
The rod had been crafted of smooth, clear glass, knobbed at the
ends with white-gold caps etched with exquisite writing and
designs. Jonathan read the familiar engraving on each end:
“Holiness, Honor, Humility.” The light from the twin suns glinted
off the surface of the scepter, and within the glass, the embedded
thorn almost sparkled as Jonathan rolled the rod back and forth in
his palm.

Centered within the scepter, and visible in
every detail, was a two-inch long, bloodstained gray thorn. It had
been pressed into the still-molten glass, and had thus been
preserved throughout the last nine hundred years.

As Jonathan studied the bloodstained tip of
the thorn, his mind went back to a cold winter day long ago when,
as a young boy, he sat with his father in the Council Room after
eating breakfast.

* * *

“Father, why is there a thorn in your
scepter?”

Samuel smiled and scooted a bit closer to
Jonathan on the wooden bench. He held the scepter up to the morning
light streaming from the high western windows and turned the rod to
catch the rays, dispersing the soft beams around them onto the
floor.

“What do you see?” Samuel asked.

Jonathan looked closer and noticed that the
tip of the thorn was dark brown, whereas the thorn itself was gray.
“It looks like blood,” he said with some uncertainty.

“That’s right. It is blood. Would you like
to hear the story about this thorn?”

“Yes!”

“Do you remember the name of the person who
lived about one thousand years ago, the person we call the Original
Man?” Samuel asked.

“Sure—Father Noah!”

“That’s right. When our world, which we call
Gan, was created, the first man to live upon it was Father Noah.
Noah’s wife was named Sarah. He loved her more than anything else.
Mother Sarah bore Noah three sons, whom he named Daniel, Uzzah, and
Gideon. The Writings of Daniel, Noah’s eldest son, tell of a day
when he was chopping trees and brush on the edge of a field with
his brothers to help his father clear it for planting.”

Jonathan frowned with disgust. “I don’t like
chopping bushes.”

Samuel chuckled. “I know you don’t. But
sometimes we have to do things we don’t like so we can provide food
for ourselves. Much like the good eggs and bread you had for
breakfast!” Samuel poked Jonathan, and he giggled.

“Daniel said in his writings that on this
particular day as he chopped bushes, he happened to trip over a
root. When he got up from his fall, his head hurt, and blood
dripped into his eyes. His father rushed to him to be sure he had
not been severely injured. Noah pulled this thorn from Daniel’s
forehead.”

“Did it hurt?”

“Yes, I am sure it did. But Daniel felt much
better when the thorn was gone.” Samuel assured his son with a pat
on the shoulder.

“But that is not where the story ends. With
Daniel’s brothers looking on, his father stood up and was very
quiet as he stared heavenward. Daniel, Uzzah, and Gideon all
watched Father Noah gazing into the sky. Daniel said, ‘his father’s
face shone like the sun, his eyes full of joy and gladness.’”

Jonathan gaped at the excitement in Samuel’s
eyes as he retold the story of Daniel. Oh, how he loved his father
and wanted so much to be just like him.

Samuel continued, “As the young men watched
their father, they realized Noah was listening to somebody they
could not see. The three brothers felt a very special spirit. Then
Father Noah gazed down at Daniel, and around to Uzzah and Gideon,
and said in a clear voice, with power and humility: ‘Just as this
thorn has pierced the head of my eldest son, thorns will pierce the
head of The One Who Would Suffer. He will be mocked and beaten, and
a crown of thorns will be made for Him to wear. Daniel, because of
your faith in God, you will wear the crown of a king, and you will
judge this people in righteousness to the end of your days. Through
you and your posterity will all the peoples of my seed be judged
until the True King comes and receives his kingdom here on
Gan!’”

Samuel put his arm around Jonathan’s
shoulder and explained, “Father Noah blessed all his sons that day.
He prophesied of their posterity and told them of the great
blessings they would all receive if they remained faithful to their
Creator and God.

“It has been said that Daniel was both awed
and humbled, and that his brother Uzzah was gracious and glad for
him. But Gideon was jealous of the birthright blessing Daniel had
received. The day eventually came, after the death of Noah, when
the three sons and their families became tribes, separate one from
another. Wars between the Gideonites and the other tribes became
common because of the great jealousy Gideon had for Daniel.

“Remember! Remember to always pray for them
that someday their jealousy and anger will be turned to love for
their brethren.”

* * *

Jonathan’s mind returned to the present, and
he again felt the pain of the previous day. He frowned as he
regarded the scepter. Much of the suffering in the world had been
caused by the desires of wicked men to go against the will of the
Creator as spoken by Father Noah. All three tribes were very large
now, comprised of thousands of men, women, and children. But
recently, many had died at the hands of the Gideonites. Hundreds
had been sent to their eternal home, leaving behind their loved
ones to mourn their departure.

He reached up with a free hand, brushing a
fresh tear away. His heart ached as he realized Samuel had paid the
ultimate price for defending his family and his beliefs, leaving
Jonathan alone in the world. Somber as he sat in quiet
contemplation, he stared into the glass rod for quite some
time.

Growing uncomfortable under the mid-morning
light of the twin suns, he sighed and rolled the scepter back into
its protective cloth, then retired it to his shirt pocket. Jonathan
pulled himself up from his sitting position and yawned, stretching
his strong back muscles. He viewed the green trees below him and
prepared to climb onto the large, dead oak branch below.

Just then, he heard the faint noise of
voices coming from the direction of the trail he had intended to
follow south. He fell prone onto the rock ledge, his feet inside
the cave entrance, and retrieved his spyglass from its belt pouch.
Inching to the edge, he searched the trail for signs of
movement.

He lay very still, but the strain of
minimizing his movements and controlling his breathing caused him
to sweat. Through the ocular of the spyglass, he saw an army of
about two hundred soldiers coming from the south, all wearing
hardened leather breastplates adorned with a black raven. They
would soon pass directly below. Jonathan collapsed the small scope
so as not to cause a visible reflection, then cautiously pushed
himself back from the ledge and waited.

The noise grew louder as the army
approached. Heavy sounds of marching feet on the shaded trail below
echoed against the face of the rocky cliff. Jonathan strained to
hear conversations, but could not discern any specific words from
the men. He heard only the occasional muffled shout of orders from
one section of the advancing army to another. Because of the speed
of their march, it did not take the Gideonites long to pass the
cliff and disappear over the rolling, wooded hills to the
north.

Even though they were now gone, Jonathan was
disturbed. He moved back into the defenses of the cave and took a
squatting position a few feet into the shadows.

Now what do I do?
he thought, frustrated.
If I leave now, I am sure to be caught. If they are still
sending large numbers of troops north, there will be more to
come.

He puzzled over the predicament, then went
to his knees.

“My Father and my God, what shall I do
now?”

Jonathan listened with
eyes closed and his hands on his knees. After a brief moment, he
heard within his mind just one word from that familiar sweet
voice—
wait.
Rising from his knees, he retreated to the confines of the
cave and said audibly to himself, “Yes, I will wait until I feel
differently.”

He busied himself in the cave for the rest
of the morning. Feeling he would be there for a while, he removed
his sword belt and shoulder sack and began to clean things up a
bit. He organized the items in the cave, then took time to inspect
his own clothing for frays or tears. The few he found he repaired
with the use of some ingenuity and threads painstakingly removed
from discarded cloth in the cave. The morning grew late, and
Jonathan ate a more substantial part of his provisions for lunch.
But as he finished his meal, he still did not feel it was time to
leave. On one other occasion during the morning, Jonathan had
stopped his activities to listen to what seemed to be another army
passing below.

The much quieter afternoon relieved some of
his anxiety. Even the chirping and activity of birds in the forest
caused Jonathan to feel more relaxed. He decided to take the
opportunity for a brief nap.

Although it seemed such a short time that he
slept, he awoke late. He sat up suddenly, alarmed that the light
outside was already dim with the onset of early evening. He got to
his feet and stretched under the rough cave ceiling, touching it.
Now twenty-nine years old and over six feet tall, what had seemed
like such a grand cavern to him as a youth now just barely allowed
him to move about comfortably.

Jonathan gathered his things and decided to
go to the ledge for a look around. Reaching the old oak tree, he
surveyed the forest floor below him and listened. Nothing out of
the ordinary came to his senses, and yet he still did not feel
inclined to leave. He still had the same feeling from earlier that
morning. Not wanting to return to the cave, he set his back against
the cliff wall and stretched his legs out, his dusty brown boots
almost reaching the edge of the rock shelf. The heat of the day was
gone, having been replaced with a refreshing, cool evening breeze.
Coursing through a darkening sky, the twin suns both descended
toward the eastern horizon, the expanse painted like an ocean scene
in shades of intense blue. Soon the deep hues would be mixed with
the familiar colors of a scarlet and violet sunset. Jonathan felt
almost content as he rested there, admiring the beautiful sights of
nature. He let his mind wander from thought to thought.