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Warrior Prophets 2 Chapter 23 – Clouds of War

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Warrior Prophets 2 Chapter 23

 Clouds of War

Mahlon narrowed his eyes as the Amalekite delegation trotted towards the royal stables. They are worse than the Moabites, Mahlon thought. They would kill us just for fun. He focused on the white mare of King Galkak. Shake him off, Mahlon requested of the mare. The mare shook its head. Shake him off! Mahlon commanded. The mare neighed, stood on its hind legs and pawed the air with its forelegs. Galkak fell off the horse, but somehow landed on his feet. Mahlon gritted his teeth.

“Easy, girl,” Galkak soothed his mare. “What happened to you?”

The mare neighed and pointed its head in Mahlon’s direction.

“Did he scare you?” Galkak asked as he led the mare towards Mahlon in the stable.

“Perhaps the horse no longer likes its rider,” Mahlon said to the approaching Galkak.

Galkak stopped and looked deep into Mahlon’s eyes.

“What do you want, Amalekite?” Mahlon spat to the side.

“I have had dealings with Elimelech, your father,” Galkak said quietly. “He is a great man. I’ve also known your uncle Boaz well, young Judean. You may find that we are not all as we seem, my impetuous Mahlon. Save your power for the true enemy. Now take care of my horse.” Galkak handed the reins to a speechless Mahlon. “I have business with the Tyrant.”

 

 

 

“Galkak!” Eglon announced cheerily from his throne. “Come sit next to us.”

Galkak walked in slowly, with half a frown on his face. His right hand shook intermittently. He sat to the left of the massive Moabite. Dirthamus the necromancer sat to Eglon’s right.

“You are looking gaunt, King of Amalek,” Eglon said with some concern. “What has happened? Soon you shall look like our cadaverous Dirthamus. Bring him some wine!” Eglon commanded his servants.

“No thanks, Boss.” Galkak put his hand out. “I’d rather not.”

“Who is this impostor?” Eglon squealed. “Where is the true Galkak? I have never in my entire life seen you refuse a drink. That is one of your more endearing characteristics. Are you ill?”

“The rumors are true, then,” Dirthamus hissed from the side, a cruel smile on his face. “He has given up the drink. See how he shakes. He must still be suffering from the lack. If he’s not careful, he may die.”

“Galkak,” Eglon said with more iron in his voice. “I have summoned you here for various reasons. First, I wanted to see for myself if the rumors were true. Will you not have a drink? For old-times’ sake?” Eglon offered his own wine skin.

“No, Boss. No. Please. Don’t.” Galkak forced the words out of his mouth as his eyes started to tear.

“I see. And what is this I hear of rebellion of the Amalekites against you? Know that rebellion against you is rebellion against me. You have been a loyal and steadfast vassal all these years. Almost eighteen years since we conquered Canaan together and subjugated those restless Israelites. You have been by my side throughout and now I need you to remain strong. We have one last effort to safeguard our Empire forever.”

“You know me, Boss.” Galkak gripped his own thigh to keep his hand from shaking. “I’m tough as nails and no unhappy subjects are goin’ to stop me. Just tell me what you wan’ me to do.”

“I knew I could count on you.” Eglon clapped his hands, his enormous girth shaking and his triple chin wiggling. “I want you to bring all your soldiers here, to the plain of the Jordan. We shall punish the Israelites with a massacre they shall not soon forget and that shall forge the union between us and the Egyptians.”

“I don’t get it, Boss. What’s the connection? What’s the plan?”

“I want you to meet the new commander of my army. He is a brilliant young tactician and a fearless warrior. Call General Bagdon!” Eglon ordered.

Tall, dark-haired Bagdon entered the audience chamber. Only a thin scar from his ear to his mouth marred his otherwise handsome features.

“General Bagdon,” Eglon said. “Meet our vassal and ally, King Galkak of Amalek.”

“Galkak the drunk,” Bagdon said, as he looked at the Amalekite with disgust. He then looked at Galkak closely. “You remind me of someone.” Bagdon contorted his face as he tried to recall the connection.

Dirthamus looked from Bagdon to Galkak and couldn’t help but notice a resemblance.

“Bagdon son of Avod, Prince of Simeon,” Galkak stated loudly. “Your reputation for cruelty and ruthlessness precedes you. My congratulations. But Boss, can an Israelite, can a son of a prince no less, be trusted with this new plan?” Galkak turned to Eglon.

“Bagdon has my complete and utter trust. He has proven himself countless times that he is a son of Moab. He has earned his place on the backs, blood and corpses of the Israelites. I think they may even fear him more than they fear me. No, Galkak. Bagdon is the right man for the task. And once our union with Egypt is complete, I have promised him my daughter Orpah as wife.”

“So what is the plan, then?” Galkak asked, holding his thigh tighter.

“We are to assemble all the Israelite firstborns on the Jordan plain, shortly after the upcoming Tribute,” Bagdon answered. “Then we are to kill them all. Their ears will be collected and sent to Pharaoh as proof of the slaughter and as dowry for the marriage of Princess Ruth to Seti, Pharaoh’s heir. Thereby the Empires of Moab and Egypt shall be united. We shall be the greatest power in the world.”

Beads of sweat formed on Galkak’s brow and his skin turned greenish.

“Are you unwell?” Eglon asked.

“It’s nothin’, Boss. Just the lack of drink. It happens sometimes.”

“What can we do?”

“I jus’ need some fresh air, that’s all. Please excuse me.”

“By all means, Galkak. Go and return when you’ve recuperated.”

Galkak rose from the chair and walked unsteadily out of the chamber.

“Strange,” Eglon said.

“Indeed,” Dirthamus agreed. “I shall have to investigate further. Excuse me, sire.”

“Yes, yes, Dirthamus. Go make sure he is well. We cannot afford for Galkak to fail us just now.”

“Certainly, sire. We cannot afford any weakness.” Dirthamus hobbled out of the chamber, his wooden staff clattering loudly on the stone floor.

 

 

Mahlon was surprised by Galkak’s early return.

“I’m sorry, I was rude –” Mahlon started saying.

“Never mind that.” Galkak grabbed Mahlon by the arm and whispered. “Eglon is planning to kill all the Hebrew firstborns.”

“When? Why are you telling me this?”

“After the Tribute. Why am I telling you? I will reveal a secret to you, young Mahlon. A secret that has been eating me alive for eighteen years. I am no Amalekite! I am Galkak of Simeon. I fought in the Israelite militia alongside Boaz, Amitai and Ehud. I must warn Ehud of Eglon’s plan. The time has come for us to fight back. This planned massacre cannot be God’s will. Have we not suffered enough under Moabite tyranny? Does your family, does Elimelech not cry out to God for salvation? I’ll inform Eglon that I’m leaving to bring my troops. You must alert the other loyal princelings and get the word out to the princes. Beware of Bagdon. He suspects me. He doesn’t realize I am related to him. Prince Avod is my cousin, though I haven’t seen him in more than two decades. If Bagdon unmasks me, my effectiveness will be neutralized. Be strong and of good courage, Mahlon son of Elimelech son of Nachshon the Brave. We shall need every man we can get, and I suspect you are well placed to save Israel.”

Without another word, Galkak mounted his horse and rode out of the stable. He found his Amalekite retinue, gave them orders and rode out of the City of Palms.

Dirthamus hobbled into the stable a few moments later.

“Mahlon, blast your inscrutable mind,” Dirthamus rasped. “Have you seen Galkak?”

“The Amalekite King?”

“Is there a different Galkak, you dimwit?”

“No, I haven’t seen him.”

“Prepare me a donkey and my wagon,” Dirthamus ordered.

“Where are you going?”

“That is not your concern, Judean.”

“If you want me to harness the donkey properly, then I do need to know. Is it a short ride or a long one? Is it on trodden roads or on hilly terrain? If I attach the harness too tightly, the donkey will tire quickly. If I attach it too loosely, you’ll have a rickety ride.”

“I am going to the tribe of Simeon.”

“I know the road. Your transport will be ready in just a few moments.” Mahlon ran to his favorite donkey, Chamrah, his plan already formulated.

 

 

 

“Prince Seti,” Eglon exclaimed. “What an unexpected surprise.”

The heir of Egypt stood in front of Eglon in a resplendent robe of white linen woven with golden threads and adorned with colorful gemstone embroidered around the collar of the robe.

“You did not think we would merely allow our new ally to fend for himself,” Seti said. “We wish to provide whatever assistance you might need. And I of course have come for a personal reason. I wish to gaze again upon the beauty of my intended. I wish to see Ruth.”

“Call for the princess!” Eglon commanded. “In the meantime, Seti, please meet the commander of our forces, General Bagdon. I have promised him the hand of my second daughter should he succeed in this venture. That would make you brother-in-laws!”

Bagdon bowed to Seti. “It will be my honor to serve you and our grand alliance.”

“Bagdon,” Seti said pensively, “you do not look Moabite. What is your origin?”

“I am born of the tribe of Simeon and a loyal soldier of Moab.”

“Interesting, Eglon. You bring a Hebrew to quash the Hebrews. That is somehow ironic. In Egypt too, before your forefathers escaped, we made good use of the Hebrew leadership. They drove their own brothers in the slave pits. They were some of the harshest taskmasters.”

“My mission is to see to the glory of Emperor Eglon and now to Pharaoh as well,” Bagdon declared.

“That is encouraging to hear. Ah, Ruth,” Seti exclaimed as Ruth entered the audience chamber. “My beautiful desert flower. How are you? I have missed you.”

“I am well, Seti,” Ruth stated plainly. She wore a simple white cotton dress, with her red tresses pulled back under a white shawl.

“I have come to ensure your father’s success in his upcoming campaign. We are eager to receive the promised dowry.”

“Of course, Seti.” Ruth looked down.

“Are you unhappy?” Seti asked.

“I am distressed by this unwarranted massacre you are planning.”

“My love, you are young and do not understand,” Seti answered. “The Hebrews are slaves. For generations they were enslaved to Egypt. Then, under the influence of that renegade, the sorcerer Moses, they escaped. But it was not merely an escape. Those thankless upstarts, those crude thieves, looted Egypt. Every ounce of gold, every talent of silver was stolen. We clothed them, we fed them, we employed them and this is how they thank us? Devastating plague after plague ruined our beautiful land. The Nile ran red with blood. Animals and pestilence destroyed our crop. Fearful hail and petrifying darkness attacked us. And then the firstborns. They claim it was their God, but every firstborn of Egypt died. Every one. This cannot go unavenged. This is our opportunity. And the death of every Israelite firstborn will be our vengeance. It will signal our ascendance, Egypt’s return to its full strength versus man and god.”

“Splendid, Seti,” Eglon interrupted. “I could not have explained it better myself. Now what assistance did you have in mind? We have sufficient troops, do we not, Bagdon?”

“Our united forces,” Bagdon explained, “including the Amalekite and Ammonite regulars, number ten thousand men. That should be more than enough against unarmed rabble. We could use more horses however.”

“We have horses aplenty,” Seti stated. “What type do you need? We have Arabian, Barbs, Hunters, Nubian and Tarpans.”

“A horse is a horse,” Bagdon said in confusion.

“This is the commander of your forces, Eglon? A man who does not understand the difference between horses? Bring someone who knows the difference between a stallion and a mare,” Seti stated.

“Call for Mahlon, the Royal Stable Master,” Eglon ordered. “He is the best with animals.”

Ruth’s face brightened at the mention of Mahlon.

“Prince Seti,” Eglon cleared his throat. “Mahlon is a masterful stable-man and there is no one with better command of the horses. However, he is Israelite and I am not certain of his allegiance.”

“I understand. I shall keep my discussion with him purely technical.”

A few moments later Mahlon entered the chamber.

“Mahlon, bow to Prince Seti, heir to Pharaoh and future husband to Princess Ruth,” Eglon commanded. Mahlon bowed stiffly. “Seti is going to supply us with horses for our troops and we wanted your opinion as to the disposition of the horses.”

“How many horses are we talking about?” Mahlon asked.

“As many as you need to reinforce your cavalry,” Seti said. “What types, man, tell me what types.”

“We could use a dozen Arabians for the commanders,” Mahlon said. “Two dozen Nubians for the front line riders, half a dozen Tarpans for the scouts and as many Barbs as you are willing to part with.”

“Barbs?” Seti raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, they are not as pretty as the Arabians, which is why I only requested the Arabians for the vain commanders. The Barbs are the hardiest breed and do best in our desert.”

“This is a man who knows his animals,” Seti declared with obvious admiration. “Perhaps you will let me take him back to Egypt. We can use a man like this ourselves.”

Ruth looked at Mahlon in a mild panic.

Mahlon looked at Ruth in confusion. She doesn’t want me to leave, he realized.

“Mahlon is one of our royal hostages and his absence at this stage would be noted,” Eglon explained. “Perhaps in the future he can be spared.”

Ruth sighed softly in relief. Why is she relieved? Mahlon wondered. She is sad. She knows about the upcoming massacre and is against it, he sensed. She doesn’t want to be married to Seti. She is still a prisoner, after all these years.

“You did not request any Hunters,” Seti noted. “We find them to be formidable animals.”

“They are cruel and ill-tempered animals that will just as quickly trample their own rider as their prey. The Moabites are not proficient enough riders to control such wild and dangerous beasts. They would end up biting the backs of the other horses and create havoc in the cavalry.”

“You are wise as well as knowledgeable.” Seti smiled. “Eglon, make sure to save this royal hostage for me. I think our business for today is done. My Princess,” Seti curtsied to Ruth and exited the chamber.

“You are dismissed,” Eglon said to Mahlon.

Mahlon bowed lightly to Eglon and looked into Ruth’s sad eyes. She seemed to be saying to him, get away from here, but he already had other plans as he backed out of the chamber.

 

 

 

“Galkak? What are you doing here?” Ehud asked as Galkak entered the smithy quickly.

“Eglon means to kill all the Israelite firstborns,” Galkak answered breathlessly.

“I know.”

“How do you know? I just found out myself. He means to assemble and massacre them all after the Tribute.”

“God came to me in a dream. He told me of Eglon’s plans.”

“What else did He tell you?”

“We are going to fight.”

“How?”

“I’m working on it.”

“Well, you better work quickly, because you’ll be fighting against ten thousand trained, armed and brutal professional soldiers. You don’t have any weapons! What are you going to do?”

“Cut the head off the snake.”

“And then what? That Bagdon seems fairly vicious and they have Egyptian backing.”

“We need to make our effort and God will take care of the rest. I am quietly trying to assemble an army. We will attack the day of the Tribute, right after we’ve delivered it to Eglon. I think now may be the time to use your influence on the Amalekites against Eglon.”

“I will. Also, Elimelech’s son is in charge of Eglon’s stable and I believe he can be of some help.”

“Yes. He has some mental power. We will need everyone’s help in the end.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“Go, Galkak. Have faith. The time has come. The day you’ve waited for all these years is approaching and your painful toil has not been in vain. You will use your position to save your brethren. Go. Pit the Amalekites against the Moabites and that may ensure our victory. Perhaps get word to the Ammonites as well. All will be nervous about what an Egyptian alliance will do to their positions.”

“God better be with us, or it’s goin’ to end really badly.”

“Have faith, Galkak. Do you want a drink before you leave?”

“No, I’ve given it up.” Galkak said and left the smithy as quickly as he entered.

Ehud raised his eyebrow and said to the door: “If Galkak can give up drinking, there is hope indeed.”

 

 

Chamrah knew this human. He had been one of Bilaam’s apprentices many many years ago. The human was ill-tempered and smelly and avoided the light in his strange covered wagon that she pulled up the Arava Road. Mahlon had instructed her what to do. She liked Mahlon. He was the first human, except for the one episode with Bilaam, who understood her. Whenever she wanted more hay or water or a scratch behind the ear, Mahlon had been there. He often commented to her about her intelligence and her unnatural lifespan. She loved hearing his complements. Mahlon had often said she was his favorite animal in the stable.

Now he had given her an important mission. She was to strand this foul sorcerer in the Judean Mountains. It went against her nature, to abandon one of her charges, but Mahlon had convinced her that it was imperative, that this Dirthamus was on a mission of evil and that he needed to be delayed. That’s all he had asked for.

Chamrah knew Mahlon had cut into her harness. He had thought to her, when you leave the desert mountain and reach the trees of Judea, break free. Break free, leave him there and come back home.

“Blasted animal,” Dirthamus muttered. “Can’t you go any faster? It’s just like Mahlon to saddle me with a slow, stupid, sickly beast. Go!” Dirthamus whipped Chamrah’s backside. Chamrah instinctively quickened her pace. I won’t have any compunction about leaving you behind, she thought.

They climbed up the mountain road, accompanied on either side by pink and tan craggy mountains, rivulets of loose stones and a sprinkling of shrubs. As they ascended higher, the shrubs grew in number. Chamrah spotted a rare tree or two amongst boulders and rocks of various sizes. The road started to level and finally they reached the tree line. Wide oaks and tall ferns marked the end of the mountain desert.

Chamrah put on a burst of speed. Dirthamus, surprised, fell back into his wagon. Chamrah felt the leather of the harness tear, but not completely. She tried another burst of speed, but the harness held. Now what, she thought.

“What is wrong with you, you dumb animal? Dirthamus yelled and whipped Chamrah.

God’s not going to open your ears like he did your master Bilaam, Chamrah thought, so I won’t even bother with a reply. There’s the solution. Chamra spotted a fallen tree trunk by the side of the road. She ran towards the tree at full speed.

“Stop! Stop!!” Dirthamus screamed, seeing the large trunk ahead.

Chamrah jumped over the trunk. The wheels of Dirthamus’ wagon slammed into the fallen tree, sending Dirthamus flying out of the wagon. He landed on the hard road several feet away. Chamrah’s harness tore free from the wagon and she trotted casually to the fallen sorcerer.

“Come,” Dirthamus croaked and reached out to Chamrah from the ground.

I don’t know if Mahlon would have wanted me to do this, but I detest this human, Chamrah thought as she turned her back to the sorcerer.

“Come, beast,” Dirthamus commanded.

Chamrah kicked the sorcerer in the face, sending him back a few more feet, unconscious. I hate sorcerers, she thought. They’re so dumb.

 

 

Galkak had assembled all the Amalekite leaders. They sat around the large rectangular table in his palace. He would deal with their rebellion once and for all. He looked around at each face and calmly tried to take in each thought as Yered had taught him.

“You, the leadership of Amalek and the people of Amalek, are unhappy with my rule,” Galkak announced. A murmur of agreement answered his statement.

“But I am not the source of your unhappiness. It is Eglon. He is and always has been the source of my power. He tells us what to do. He holds us back from our old ways, from attacking the Israelites at will, from marauding caravans, from ambushing merchants. He has turned us into his guards and tax-collectors. Is this what you want?”

“No!” was the unanimous answer from around the table.

“Good. I admit I’ve been his puppet all this time. And that is only because I thought it was in our best interest. But I have learned something disturbing and this alliance, this subservience to the Moabites must come to an end.”

“What has happened?” one of the Amalekite leaders, Harpag, asked.

“Eglon has sold us to the Egyptians.”

“What do you mean?” Harpag asked.

“He means to ally with Egypt and attack his old allies, us and the Ammonites.”

“Why should we trust you?” Harpag pushed. “You’ve always been in Eglon’s confidence. How do we know this is not some elaborate ruse?”

“You ask a valid question, Harpag, and you have little reason to trust me. But let me ask you this. Why should I wish to betray the man who has given me power, if not to bring freedom to Amalek? It may be suicide, but I will risk it. Do you fear his might? Do you think that our forces cannot overtake him, if we have the element of surprise?”

“What are we going to do?”

“We are going to play along with Eglon. We are going to pretend we are still his loyal subjects. We are going to join Eglon in the upcoming attack against the Israelites, but then, when the time is right, we will turn on Eglon and the Moabites and regain our freedom. Will you join me? Will you all join me?”

“Yes!” was the unanimous answer. “To war!”

 

* * * * * *

 

5772, Book of Judges, Eglon, Ehud, Fiction, Mahlon, Warrior Prophets

Warrior Prophets 2 Chapter 22 – Blacksmith’s Deception

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Warrior Prophets 2 Chapter 22

 Blacksmith’s Deception

“Stable boy,” Bagdon called to Mahlon. Bagdon walked his large black stallion into the stable.

“It’s been years since I was the stable hand. I run the stables now, Bagdon. Do I need to be king for you to address me properly?” Mahlon asked as he rubbed the coat of a chestnut mare.

“You’re still a stable boy to me, Mahlon. And while we’re at it, you can call me General Bagdon.”

“What do you want, lout?”

“You’re insufferable. That’s why people avoid you. No wonder your only friends are these beasts. My horse is limping. What wrong with him?”

“What did you do to him? You’ve always been too rough with the horses.”

Mahlon rushed to Bagdon’s stallion and inspected its hooves.

“Its horseshoe is worn. You trotted on the stonework, didn’t you? I’ve warned you that it’s bad for the horses. I’ll have to keep him in the stable.”

“What? But I need my horse. Just replace the horseshoe.”

“We’re out of horseshoes. I’m expecting a delivery only next week.”

“Can’t the blacksmith just make a new one?”

“Katzor is a dunce and his horseshoes were injuring our herd. Eglon only trusts Ehud to make our horseshoes.”

“Ehud of Benjamin?”

“Who else? He’s the best in the Empire. Certainly after you killed his partner.”

“His partner? That other blacksmith? He was trouble and mouthed off at me. I needed to remind them who was in charge. I don’t care if he was a friend of Ehud’s. Eglon’s mercy may extend to his appointed agent, but it certainly doesn’t extend to the rest of the Israelites.”

“No, only the murderous ones,” Mahlon said under his breath.

“What did you say?” Bagdon asked.

Mahlon stared hard into Bagdon’s eyes. Bagdon stood transfixed for a moment.

“Never mind.” Bagdon coughed. “Just tell me when my horse is ready. I’ll take a replacement from one of my soldiers in the meantime.”

Bagdon hurried out of the stable without looking back.

 

“Dirthamus.” Eglon spoke softly from his throne to the ancient man on his right. “You know my mind.”

“Yes, sire,” Dirthamus rasped. “This is a most exciting development. I love the irony of it. But how will you lure all the firstborns to their death?”

“We shall conduct a census. Didn’t Moses count his people all the time? They will like that. They are used to the idea. First, we shall recall our troops and have them positioned throughout the plain. We shall then assemble all of the firstborns on the plain. It’s quite simple, once you think about it. Where can they go? The nearest Hebrew city is Gilgal. We shall block the mountain road west and the Jordan crossing. There is nowhere to hide on this plain. The Jordan shall run red with Hebrew blood.”

“Fitting that we should bring the first and last plague upon the Hebrews,” Dirthamus cackled. “But when will you do this?”

“Right after the next tribute. I shall personally command the princes to send their firstborns and then we shall have our dowry and our alliance with Egypt.”

“What shall we do until then, sire? Should we perhaps ease up on our tormenting them? Give them a lull? A reprieve from the subjugation before the final blow?”

“No, Dirthamus. We must continue to tax and squeeze and punish the Israelites. Their lives must continue as hard and miserable as usual. No one can suspect a change.”

“You are wise, as always.” Dirthamus smiled.

 

A dim sun descended through the mist over the land of Benjamin. Loud banging erupted from the smithy on the hilltop. “Keep it hot,” Ehud bellowed over the roar of the fire. Ehud’s burly hands held the molten ingot of iron with heavy tongs. He quickly placed the red-hot ingot on the anvil and banged it into shape with a hammer. Satisfied with his work, Ehud picked up the horseshoe-shaped ingot and dunked it in the barrel of water. Furious hissing escaped from the barrel as the hot metal boiled the water in a flash of steam.

“Keep them coming,” Ehud yelled over the sound of the hissing. Ehud repeated the process with the help of his three assistants: lanky Davneh on the bellows, big Perad by the hearth, and young Lerim packing the cooling horseshoes in wooden crates.

The Moabites had sent an order for new horseshoes. They were predictable, Ehud thought. Every spring they ordered six dozen iron horseshoes for their cavalry. They sent him an exact amount of the iron ore and paid him a pittance for his work. He did not complain. The alternatives were worse.

Ehud’s team efficiently finished seventy horseshoes. He took the remaining iron and melted it into a bronze casing the size of a newborn’s head. He melted the bronze casing shut and placed the bronze ball into the water barrel.

“Lerim, you know what to do,” Ehud said. “Be quick about it. They may be here any moment.”

Lerim grabbed the bronze ball and placed it on the dark smithy floor. He grabbed a spade, picked a spot next to the wall and dug a hole two feet deep. He dropped the bronze ball in the hole and covered it. He moved a workbench to cover the hole.

Ehud walked out of the smithy and greeted the setting sun. It was the first time he had seen it that day.

He could see the Moabite cavalry riding up the hill. Bile rose up his throat.

Yigal, how I miss you, Ehud thought. They were so cruel that day; those Moabites and especially that monster, Bagdon. Every time their cavalry trots up the hill I think of you, Yigal, and their cruelty. You stood up to them. You told them they were robbing us. In return, Bagdon had us chained.

And I remember what happened next. The way they maimed you. The way they toyed with you. They only spared me because they thought I was more useful, more experienced. And because of Eglon of course, curse him. They didn’t need two blacksmiths – only one.

First your hand. They burned your hand with a hot iron poker. I remember the smell of burning flesh. They joked that a blacksmith only needed one hand. They were careful to burn your left hand – not knowing you were left-handed.

Then your legs. A blacksmith doesn’t need legs, Bagdon had said. They savagely hacked at your legs. Your two stumps gushed blood onto the mud and straw, making a sick pattern of red and brown and beige on the ground. The chains cut into my wrists as I screamed at those merciless soldiers. I let them do it. I should have seen it coming. I should have known that those close to me would not be spared Eglon’s depravity.

They laughed all the time. ‘We expect to see some pots in the morning’ Bagdon called to you as your life seeped away. From this very hill. Five years now. And now their cavalry comes again.

But not for much longer.

Ten horsemen approached Ehud’s smithy.

Ehud walked from his porch to greet the riders.

“Welcome, noble sirs,” Ehud gave an awkward smile.

“Well met, Ehud,” the captain of the troop replied. “Are the horseshoes finished?”

“Yes, sir,” Ehud bowed his head. “But as usual, the iron you supplied was not enough. We were barely able to squeeze seventy shoes out of it.”

“Only seventy? Our blacksmith assured us the iron would be good for at least seventy two. See here, Ehud. If you are cheating us, you will pay dearly for it.” The captain placed his hand on the pommel of his sword.

“My dear captain,” Ehud answered unruffled. “If your blacksmith is so sure of himself, let him do it. But I know that fool Katzor always skimps on the metal and that’s why his shoes wear out faster than mine. If you don’t trust me, feel free to inspect my smithy.” Ehud opened his arms wide and pointed at his stone structure.

The captain looked at Ehud, at the smithy and back at Ehud. “If you were not the best blacksmith and Eglon’s agent, we would not give you such liberties. But never forget who lets you live in peace and freedom amongst your brethren. We shall punish any deception harshly, even if you’re favored by Eglon. Where are they anyway? Bring us the horseshoes.”

“What about my payment?”

“Yes, of course.” The captain grabbed a heavy cloth bag from his saddle bag and threw it at Ehud’s feet. The sound of coins was clearly heard as they hit the ground. “Don’t spend it all in one place.” The captain flashed a crooked smile.

“Davneh, Larim,” Ehud called to the smithy as he picked up the clinking bag, “bring the shoes.”

The captain nodded to his soldiers. Eight men dismounted their horses and walked to the smithy. Davneh and Larim shuffled out of the smithy carrying a heavy wooden box. Two soldiers grabbed the box from the two Benjaminites. Davneh and Larim avoided looking the soldiers in the eyes and hesitantly escorted the remaining ones into the smithy. Ehud counted in his mind how long the soldiers would remain in the smithy if there was trouble.

Three pairs of soldiers exited carrying heavy boxes between them. The soldiers loaded the boxes onto their horses and mounted.

The captain opened one of the boxes and took two horseshoes out. He clanged one against the other and listened to the ring of the medal. He smiled, “You are the best, Ehud. Keep out of trouble and you will be well rewarded.”

“Of course, sir,” Ehud bowed again. “I wouldn’t consider otherwise. Long live Eglon,” Ehud saluted. “May his reign flourish and grow.”

The captain saluted and smiled at Ehud. “Good man, Ehud. I shall report favorably as to your comportment.”

“Much appreciated, sir,” Ehud smiled back. He continued to smile as the troops trotted down the hill. He bared his teeth as he smiled.

Don’t worry Yigal, he thought. I shall avenge you and we shall be free of this tyrant. Soon.

* * * * * *

5772, Book of Judges, Eglon, Ehud, Fiction, Ruth, Warrior Prophets

Warrior Prophets 2 Chapter 21 – Egyptian Dowry

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Warrior Prophets 2 Chapter 21

 

Egyptian Dowry

“Walk with me, Princess,” Seti, heir to the throne of Egypt, called to Ruth on the banks of the Nile River.

Ruth, at sixteen years old, had grown into a strikingly beautiful young woman. Her dark red hair fell in undulating waves down her back and over her shoulders. Her angular features gave her an exotic, yet graceful, appearance. Her green eyes sparkled despite the somber expression she wore. Ruth approached Prince Seti and walked beside him as the wide Nile flowed northward.

“Are you sad, Princess? It does not become you,” Seti said gently.

“Do I appear sad? Forgive me, I was just being pensive.” Ruth looked at the streams flowing away from the river to the lush fields on either side of the Nile.

“What are you pondering?” Seti asked.

“Your river is so wide and the land so green. We live in a dry desert.”

“We are both desert people. However, we are blessed with the power and life of the Nile and the strength of Ra.” Seti pointed at the sun.

“You are not dependent on the rains,” Ruth noted.

“We are not dependent on anything. Our gods are powerful. Pharaoh is powerful. Together they see to the well-being of our people. Our people and our allies. It is our enemies that are dependent. Dependent on our mercy and our interests.”

“If you are so powerful, why do you need allies?”

“You are intelligent and beautiful, Ruth.” Seti smiled. “Man must strive. Man was born to achieve. It is a sin to allow the gods to hand everything to us on a golden platter. We must conquer and struggle to reach the glory we were born to. Allies are a means to achieve greater strength. Your father has been most successful in his conquests. It is only because we admire his success that we have invited you.”

“But if you and your gods are so powerful, how did the Israelites escape Egypt and their god destroy your land and army?”

“Pfah!” Seti spat on the ground. “Those Hebrew slaves were a curse. The gods punished us for our lack of faith. We have rebuilt our land and our army since. We are at the height of our power once again. The plagues are no more than a memory. Tales mothers scare their children with. But the Hebrews shall be punished. You shall see. Come; let us return to the palace. Pharaoh shall be expecting us.”

 

“God, forgive us.” Avod fell to his knees outside the Tabernacle of Shilo. “We were wrong. I was wrong to follow the strange ways.”

The Prince of Simeon had come on a private pilgrimage to the Sanctuary. Tears streamed down his face as he prayed out loud.

“My own son does not recognize me. Bagdon is so enamored with the Moabite ways that he has no Hebrew identity. I am to blame. I embraced Baal. I paid homage to Ashtarte. I have forgotten You. I have betrayed You. And You have rightfully punished us. But this punishment of Eglon has become too harsh. He enslaves our children. He takes our crops and our flocks and kills us when we resist. My people are starving. They cannot feed themselves. Not just my tribe of Simeon, but all Your tribes of Israel. We all suffer as one under this tyrant. I am sorry. I am sorry, God. Please help us. Please!”

Avod sobbed violently as he crouched on the ground.

Pinhas, the High Priest, in his resplendent garments, exited from the Sanctuary and approached the fallen Prince.

“Rise, Avod, Prince of Simeon.”

“I am without hope for me or my people,” Avod said haltingly.

“Rise, Avod, for God has heard your prayer.”

“What shall I do?” Avod asked as Pinhas helped him back onto his feet.

“Return to your tribe. Strengthen them. Bring them back to God and leave the worship of idols.”

“Will that save us?”

“Perhaps.”

 

“She is beautiful, is she not, son?” Pharaoh declared from his throne. He looked Ruth up and down as a jackal would survey a carcass.

“I would be pleased to make her my wife, Pharaoh,” Seti answered from Pharaoh’s side.

“Then it is agreed.” Eglon clapped his bloated hands. “My Ruth shall be wife to the next Pharaoh, uniting our empires, creating a force unrivaled in history!”

Eglon and Ruth were in Pharaoh’s audience hall. The hall was spacious, with large columns of marble supporting a tall ceiling. The feeling of airiness was pleasant despite the hot humidity outdoors. A team of black eunuchs in simple white tunics stood behind Pharaoh, mechanically waving large palm branches. Court elders and priests sat on either sides of the room. Eglon sat in his sedan chair. His weight had grown so much that he could barely move himself. It took eight muscular slaves, two at each pole, to carry Eglon about. The tongues of the slaves had been cut to ensure their discretion regarding royal matters.

Ruth stood next to her father in a simple white dress. Her mother, the Empress Neema, had insisted she wear something much fancier with threads of silver and gold, but Ruth had refused.

“Almost, Eglon. Almost.” Pharaoh smiled. “There is one other matter.”

“Yes, Pharaoh,” Eglon said, one heavy eyebrow lifting.

“We are most pleased with your subjugation of the Hebrews. We still remember the pain of their rebellion. The time is ripe for settling of accounts. Do this one thing, and we shall formalize our union. We want the head of every firstborn Hebrew.”

“The head?” Eglon asked in surprise. “You wish me to kill every firstborn Israelite? That is a significant number of slaves. And to transport so many heads would be a monstrously large undertaking. Perhaps a hand or a finger from each would be a more practical demonstration of evidence and a fitting wedding gift.”

“Hmmm.” Pharaoh held up his cleanly shaven chin. “Perhaps you are right. I understand the logistical concern, though heads would be most satisfactory. Let us make it ears then. One ear from each dead firstborn. Does that suit you, Eglon?”

“Pharaoh is most wise.” Eglon nodded. “Ears are compact and flexible and much simpler to transport. I shall deliver the ears of each firstborn of Israel, as the dowry for this union. Shall we set a date?”

“Let us make it a year henceforth, on the winter solstice.”

“Agreed!” Eglon exclaimed.

“Scribes,” Pharaoh motioned. “Set forth our accord. The daughter of Moab shall marry our heir, Seti. This shall forge an everlasting union between our peoples. It shall extend our dominion to Canaan and the lands east of the Jordan River. Our armies shall be a unified army. Together we shall quash the upstart Philistines on the coast and be rid of this intruder from the seas. We shall have a joint treasury to be divided as per our concurrence. And to seal the agreement and the matrimony, Eglon of Moab shall execute every Hebrew firstborn and deliver their ears to us as dowry for the wedding ceremony to be conducted on the winter’s solstice, here in our palace.”

Scribes drew cuneiform on long papyrus scrolls. Ruth stood impassively, looking down.

“Wonderful!” Eglon cheered. “This shall be an alliance of historic import. I have one small request, Pharaoh. I simply adore those structures of yours, those pyramids. I would like one made for myself.”

Pharaoh narrowed his eyes and frowned.

“The pyramids are the exclusive right of those of divine descent,” Pharaoh said frostily. “Perhaps we can make some arrangement in the noblemen’s City of the Dead.”

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to ask.” Eglon shrugged. “Not that I’m eager for the afterlife, but it does seem a very impressive way to go.”

“Is there anything else, Eglon of Moab?” Pharaoh asked with a mild threat in his tone.

“Yes, this calls for a celebration. When can we eat?”

 

Prepare yourself, God said to Ehud in his dreams.

For what? Ehud asked.

The time approaches to end Eglon’s tyranny.

What am I to do?

You will discern the course of action. That is why I have chosen you.

But I don’t know what to do.

God?

God!?

 

The tanner knocked on the door of Avod’s house. The dark splotches on the tanner’s hands highlighted the bones underneath his skin. He was emaciated. He did not recall the last time he had eaten. He had been a proud man once, skilled in his craft and successful in his business. He thanked all the gods, but was careful to start with the Hebrew god. He was a Hebrew after all. His grandfather had fought beside Joshua. His great-grandfather had been amongst those who had left Egypt and witnessed the might of the Hebrew god firsthand.

The tanner knocked again. Avod opened the door.

“Avod, I haven’t eaten in several days. I hate to intrude, but do you have something to spare.”

“Of course, come in, we may have a bit of soup left, if you want to call it that. Have a seat.”

Avod led the tanner to a table. He gave him a wooden bowl and poured some soup from a pot into it.

“Thank you,” the tanner said as he tried to sit as dignified as possible and sip his soup slowly.

“Thank God, not me,” Avod corrected. “Our God. Not the heathen ones. Our God is the powerful one. The rest are nothing and merely infuriate God and bring down his wrath. That is why we suffer so. Call to him.”

The tanner ate his soup quietly and stood up.

“You really believe this trouble is because of the other gods?” the tanner asked.

“I do. Only by getting rid of the gods can we hope to be free of Eglon.”

“Thank you again. And I thank God. I have been unfaithful to Him.”

 

“Why are you not joyous, daughter?” Eglon asked from his reinforced wagon as Ruth rode beside him on a chestnut mare. “You have been entirely too quiet this journey. Tell me, Ruth. What is on your mind?”

“Mahlon is a firstborn,” Ruth whispered.

“What of it? All the princelings are firstborns.”

“You will kill him.”

“I suppose. His ear is to be amongst the thousands upon thousands of ears that will be your dowry. They shall write songs about it.”

“It is horrible in so many ways.”

“How did I sire such a squeamish child?”

“What about your pet, Bagdon? He’s also an Israelite firstborn.”

“I hadn’t thought of that. It would be a shame to lose such a valuable officer. I suppose Pharaoh will not miss one ear out of so many thousands. We shall have to give it more thought when the time comes.”

“How will you kill so many Israelites? They will not come as sheep to the slaughter.”

“We will have to be careful. Cautious. Though we hold the Israelites in thrall, we must be circumspect until we strike. And then we must do so swiftly, ensuring minimal resistance. They must not suspect until the last minute. I shall have to call back all of our soldiers to give them new instructions. And there is one man that we must eliminate before we can start.”

“Who?” Ruth asked.

“Ehud son of Gera of Benjamin. Blacksmith and Prophet of the Hebrew god.”

 

Ehud hid in the mountains across from Eglon’s City of Palms. The walls teased Ehud. Come to me. Try me, they said. Your pitiful forces will not even dent me. See how I tower over the valley. See how I command the high place. You have no chance. Go back to your miserable life. I will quash your rebellion before it is even formed. Look at my ramparts. They are strong and well-manned. My portholes are filled with archers. The boiling pitch is ready. We are vigilant. We are prepared. We know you Israelites are chomping at the bit. We shall not release our iron grip. Even your God has forgotten you. The God of your ancestors is dead or slumbering. The God of your miracles has cut his allegiance.

You are alone. An orphaned Godless people. The only parentage you can claim are the long cold shadows of my walls.

Ehud studied the walls. The defenses were perfect. No direct force could overcome the city. Ehud noted the well-armed gate. Archers stood on the rampart with casual ease, professional soldiers bored by the flow of peaceful merchants in and out of the city.

I must strike you from within, Ehud thought.

I must strike the very belly of the beast.

* * * * * *

5772, Book of Judges, Eglon, Ehud, Elimelech, Fiction, Mahlon, Ruth, Warrior Prophets

Warrior Prophets 2 Chapter 20 – The Weight of Oppression

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Warrior Prophets 2 Chapter 20

 The Weight of Oppression

Ruth waited for the changing of the guard as she nibbled the core of an apple. Ever since she could remember, her father had posted a guard outside the servant’s entrance to the palace kitchen. She crouched behind a large cauldron against the wall, next to the open door. At seven years old, she was a thin little girl in a simple beige tunic, leather sandals and lustrous red hair, pulled back starkly, accentuating her angular features. Over the years, she had learned to be very quiet, to the point that she was invisible to most adults.

A tall guard approached the door and greeted the heavyset soldier on duty. Ruth spotted two other soldiers walking several feet away. She threw the apple core with all her might and hit one of the soldiers on the head.

“Hey! Why’d you hit me?” the soldier turned around to his companion.

“What are you talking about? I didn’t do anything,” the companion answered.

“You clumsy oaf. You must have knocked me with your spear. Be careful next time.” The soldier shoved his companion.

“My spear is straight. You’re the clumsy one.” The companion shoved back. The tall guard and the heavy guard at the kitchen door approached the duo.

“What’s the matter?” the tall one asked.

Ruth didn’t hear anything further as she casually walked out of the kitchen towards the exit of the compound.

Ruth reached the Jordan River. She enjoyed the bubbling of the stream and loved collecting the smooth rocks from the river bank. Most of the rocks were gray in the morning sun, but her practiced eye already knew which rocks had the potential to surprise.

She grabbed one dusty rock and held it in the rushing water of the river. The water cleaned the rock, revealing flecks of pink and blue in the smooth stone.

“Ooh,” Ruth cooed joyfully as the colors of the rock were revealed. “This one will be great for my collection.” She took the stone out of the water and ran to a small grotto upstream. In the grotto was a collection of dozens of stones organized in three different pyramids. One pile consisted of flat smooth stones of a bluish hue. The second pile had rounder stones will a red tint. The third, smaller pile, consisted of smaller stones with green and tiny shiny specks of silver.

“Where should I put you?” Ruth wondered aloud to the stone.

“I know. You’ll go in the middle.” Ruth placed her new stone in-between the blue and red pyramids.

“Princesses should not be wandering alone,” said a young voice, startling Ruth.

“Oh, Mahlon. It’s you,” Ruth said with both fear and annoyance.

At fifteen, Mahlon was already the height of a man, with a thin frame and a wispy moustache of red hair. Ruth knew Mahlon well. They often dined together, whenever Eglon desired the company of the Israelite princelings. But she had never seen him outside the compound, nor spoken to him alone.

“You should be in the palace,” Mahlon said.

“Do you always do what you’re supposed to?” Ruth asked.

“No, but I’m not the daughter of the king.”

“So? That means I need to be locked up like a prisoner?” Ruth argued.

“We are both prisoners. But yours is a prison of privilege. No one is threatening to kill your family if you leave.”

“You hate me, don’t you, Mahlon.”

“I hate all Moabites.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m a hostage. Because I can only see my family once a year, and even then, I’ve become a stranger to them. I don’t know what it means to be an Israelite – I only know you Moabites and I hate you. You’ve subjugated, enslaved and killed my people. You want me to be happy about it? You make us bow down and worship your lifeless idols. You starve our tribes and steal their crops and flocks. Should I not hate you, princess?”

“But I didn’t do any thing!?” Ruth protested.

“You didn’t. But your father has, in the name of his glorious Empire.”

“I’m sorry. What should I do?”

“What can you do?” Mahlon turned around and stomped away.

Ruth sat down on a large stone and looked at her rock collection. She sat pensively for a long time until a single tear fell down her cheek. She stood up and kicked her pyramids until the grotto was filled with a disarray of reddish, bluish and greenish stones. She picked up the stone she had found that morning and trotted off angrily back home, back to the City of Palms, capital of the Moabite Empire.

Bagdon saluted smartly at Emporer Eglon. Eglon’s girth had doubled since the conquest of Canaan. It was a strain for him to walk, but he was determined to come out to see the troops whenever possible. He was surveying Bagdon’s unit standing at attention in the palace training grounds. Bagdon was the son of Avod, Prince of the tribe of Simeon. At seventeen, Bagdon had a muscular frame and a dark complexion. Though young, he had proven himself as an outstanding soldier, a strong commander fiercely loyal to Eglon. He had been made a Captain of One Hundred and was ambitious for more.

“Ah, my dear Bagdon, my star pupil,” Eglon said with obvious joy. The fat of his body shook as he stroked his double chin. “It is such a pleasure to see you in command. If only all your people clung to me with such passion, all our troubles would be over.”

“I live to serve and obey, my Lord.” Bagdon bowed. “I have often tried convincing my people to see the wisdom of joining you wholeheartedly. I don’t know why they insist on the old ways and beliefs.”

“Patience, young Bagdon. Patience. You are a model citizen. When they see your success and happiness and compare it to their wretched and miserable existence, they will understand. It may be too late for the older generation, but I have hopes for a new generation of Israelites. A generation that will not remember its god, a generation that will worship as we Moabites do, serving as loyal citizens in our empire.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Now listen to me,” Eglon said softly. “I have a mission for you and your troops. There’s a group of shepherds up by the tribe of Ephraim who’ve been avoiding our regular tax collectors. They’re an unsavory lot, those Ephraimites, brigands really, cheating us from our rightful taxes. I want you to go up there, find them, conduct a thorough count of their flocks and take our due. If they give any resistance, kill a few of those fools, just to remind them who is in charge. If you and your men take a few extra sheep for yourselves, I won’t say a thing, as long as you bring me my full measure.”

“Yes, my Lord. The justice I will bring in your name shall be swift and powerful. Those ingrates will learn not to cross the will of the Empire.”

“That’s the spirit, Bagdon. Keep this up and I shall make you rich and powerful. If you perform this mission well, I shall have to think of a special reward for you.”

“Your daughter?” Bagdon blurted.

“Ruth? No,” Eglon chuckled. “I have her reserved for the Pharaoh, but perhaps my second daughter, Orpah. Yes, Bagdon. If you show yourself worthy, I would not be against the union of my daughter with an Israelite. That would prove to the tribes my respect for your people. But she is still young, only five years old. We have time.”

“Yes, my Lord. You shall be most impressed by our performance against the Ephraimites. It shall be a punishment they shall not soon forget. I assure you that after our visit they shall become the most obedient of tribes.”

“Very well. Just don’t overdo it. A lesson and my sheep. Don’t destroy resources. A few lives are fine. We need a productive obedient people. Not a revolt. It’s a fine line.”

“Yes, my Lord. I will not forget.”

“Good, Bagdon. Make me proud.” Eglon turned about and headed back into the palace. Bagdon smiled, already thinking of riches and glory.

Mahlon put out fresh hay for Eglon’s horses. He was content being a stable boy. Years ago, the Moabite captains had learned to keep him away from men. There was always a heightened discomfort and even anxiety when Mahlon was around. He would stare intently at someone, and then the person would do something erratic. People avoided Mahlon and he liked it that way. Mahlon was at peace with the animals. Their thoughts were clear and direct. I’m hungry, the grey mare would think. I’m thirsty, the young brown stallion complained. That fly is annoying me, the white stallion, repeated often. Here’s some hay, Mahlon thought back to the mare. Drink from your trough, you lazy colt, he thought to the brown. He ignored the white stallion as there’s not much one can do about the flies.

“Mahlon, there you are,” Bagdon said as he trotted into the stable on his black mare.

“Bagdon,” Mahlon said without looking up.

“I need a new rein. The strap is all worn on the left.”

“That’s because you pull too hard on it. Go easier on your horse.”

“You’re going to teach me how to ride, stable boy?”

“I could probably teach you much more than that, traitor. Get off your horse and I’ll put on a fresh strap.”

“Watch your mouth, son of Elimelech. I could have you whipped and everyone here would thank me.”

“Then go ahead, big mouth.” Mahlon stared into Bagdon’s eyes.

“Just change the strap.” Bagdon looked down. “You know, you can join us. If you showed more respect to Eglon, you could join the troops; share in the honor and the wealth.”

“And attack our people?” Mahlon asked as he replaced the strap. “Is that how you get honor and wealth? By killing and stealing from our brothers? By stomping on the face of the downfallen tribes? Your father must be so proud.”

“My father is proud.” Bagdon raised his chin. “He said I should throw in my lot with the victor. Eglon would oppress the tribes with or without me. I might as well gain from the position and perhaps I can help our brothers in some way when the time is right.”

“Is that your plan? Rise through the ranks with cruelty and brutality to our brothers so that one day you can turn around and show some kindness? No, Bagdon. I think you are more Moabite than the Moabites themselves. I think you bend over backwards to show how much you believe in their cause. You worship their idols and Eglon with such fervor that even the Moabites are impressed. You are Israelite only in name. But I don’t blame you. How could it be otherwise? You were raised for this purpose. Your father encouraged it. I’ll ask you this though, when you kill your brothers, do you wonder who you are?”

“I am the son of the prince of Simeon and a soldier of Moab. There is no contradiction. My allegiance is to Eglon and the Empire just as is yours and all the tribes of Israel. My father, your father, all the tribal leaders, swore allegiance to Eglon and I am upholding their vows.”

“They have succeeded then,” Mahlon said.

“Succeeded at what?”

“In blinding you. Do you not see the injustice of our subjugation? This is not right!”

“It is the way of the world. The strong subjugate the weak. Get used to it.” Bagdon trotted out of the stable with his new rein.

Ruth was excited to be present at the yearly Israelite tribute assembly. This would be the first time she and Orpah would be allowed in the throne room for such a large and official event.

“Welcome my dear princes,” Eglon said from atop his throne. It was the third throne that had been constructed for him and it was already becoming too narrow for his expanding girth. Folds of flesh under his white robes hung over the armrest of the marble chair. He held a plate and ate slices of roasted beef dipped in olive oil. He was careful not to drip on his white robes. Dirthamus sat on one side of Eglon and the Empress Neema sat on the other side. Ruth and Orpah sat on small stools next to their mother. The twelve princes of Israel with their retinues and the royal hostages bowed to the Moabite Emperor. Ehud of Benjamin was amongst them.

“Your contributions this year leave much to be desired,” Eglon noted as he looked at the gifts the retinues had brought. Trays were laden with coins of gold and silver and a selection of grapes, figs and pomegranates. Sacks were filled with grains of wheat, barley and spelt. Reams of wool and jugs of oil and wine were placed in front of Eglon. “Were the rains poor this year? Was there not enough grazing for your herds?”

“If your henchman hadn’t stolen our flocks and killed our shepherds there might have been more,” the prince of Ephraim protested.

“That was a necessary disciplinary action and I’m quite proud of your own Bagdon of Simeon who led our forces.” Eglon nodded at his young captain. Ruth noted Bagdon’s evil grin. She had heard of his ruthlessness in killing the Ephraimites and his growing avarice in the spoils he took for himself.

“I trust the message was clear and we shall not have other shepherds evading our tax collectors,” Eglon continued.

“You are squeezing us dry Eglon,” Elimelech of Judah protested. “You leave us barely enough for survival. You cannot blame us if our farmers and shepherds are frustrated and angry.”

“Is that a threat I sense?” Eglon asked. “Ehud! Speak up, man. I appointed you my intermediary so that I shouldn’t have to hear or deal with each individual prince. Are you Israelites threatening me? Shall I bring my iron fist harder upon your people?”

“Your Majesty,” Ehud stepped forward. “If you squeeze any harder, there shall be nothing left. How can we threaten you? You’ve confiscated all our weapons and outlawed the production of more. You do not let us congregate. Your soldiers are in every city and village and upon every road. You account for every head of cattle and every stalk of grain. You have an army ten thousand strong while we do not have even one soldier left. No, your Majesty. Even if we desired to, we do not have the means, the strength or the resources to threaten one soldier, let alone the might of the Moabite Empire.”

Ruth looked at Ehud with a mixture of fear and curiosity. He was grim, though likeable. But there was something silently threatening, even ominous about him that she sensed would change her life forever.

“That is true,” Eglon smiled, appeased. “Nonetheless, I do not appreciate the grumbling and I understand that the worship of Baal has been halfhearted. I hereby declare that every prince shall place a statue of Baal in their homes, besides the ones by every city gate. Whoever does not erect the statue will suffer the usual elimination of their family. Furthermore, I shall take a child from every family for my work-force. They shall be my slaves for life.”

“You can’t do that!” Elimelech stood up.

“I can and I shall.” Eglon grinned. “You protest too much, I think. Perhaps you need a personal reminder, Elimelech. Perhaps I should kill your son before your eyes. I have never liked your Mahlon in any case.”

“No!” Elimelech pleaded.

“Mahlon, come before me,” Eglon ordered.

Mahlon stood up, unafraid, and walked to Eglon, his eyes boring into those of the heavy monarch. The assembly looked on in utter silence. Ruth’s heart beat faster for some reason she couldn’t explain. He’s so brave, she thought. To stare down my father like that.

Mahlon looked intently at Eglon for a few moments.

Eglon looked back silently, then broke his gaze and looked back at Mahlon in confusion. He coughed and then announced:

“On second thought, we’ll let the lad be. He’s been good with the horses. Competent stable-boys are so hard to find.”

Mahlon walked back to stand next to his father, who let out an audible sigh of relief. Ruth thanked her gods.

“Ehud,” Eglon turned to the blacksmith. “I tire of this assembly and I am displeased by your people’s attitude. I have brought you peace and security, commerce and enlightenment, and in return I receive surliness and hostility, anger and treachery. Your Moses was right when he called you a stiff-necked people. Get them out of my sight and make sure my orders are obeyed and our taxes are collected. Now out, out all of you.” Eglon waved his hands at the Israelites.

The princes and their party left the chamber in a slow and orderly fashion, leaving their tribute behind.

“You stay, Ehud,” Eglon commanded.

“Yes, your Majesty.”

“Why are they so unhappy?”

“You need to ask?”

“I suppose not, but for how long can they hate me? Why can’t they live with the new reality? Why can’t they accept my dominion and cooperate? Why do they force me to be harsher with them? They must learn to fear me without my constantly punishing them.”

“I do not know the answer.”

“What does your god say?”

“That we must suffer longer.”

“Then I am fulfilling that role.”

“Yes, quite well.”

“Then your god approves of me?” Eglon asked with surprise.

“My people are suffering as per God’s plans, but I think you have taken matters too far.”

“Is that a threat from you, my dear blacksmith?”

“Your Majesty, I think you know me well enough by now to recognize that I speak plainly and do not make veiled threats. I fear for the well-being of my people, but as God’s servant I will not interfere in His plans. That is all.”

“What about your loyalty to me? You swore!”

“I did indeed swear to follow you as per God’s plans. But I think you are only hurting yourself seeing danger and threats in every corner. Your Empire is strong and steady, with no one to threaten you. You have the respect of the Egyptians to your south and the Arameans to the north. Your borders are secure and your trade is flourishing. As you envisioned, you control the main trade routes of the world. Even the Phoenicians respect you and have agreed to your taxes on their wares. I recommend that you not oppress the Israelites further, or you may find God no longer approving of your role.”

“That is a threat!” Eglon stated.

“Do you fear me?” Ehud asked.

“I fear all who may threaten me.”

“Then kill me,” Ehud said.

“No, no. I trust you. I need you.”

“Then stop acting like a scared bully and behave like the confident Emperor you are! You are strong. Being paranoid does no one any good, least of all you.”

Eglon stared at Ehud with his mouth open. He started to talk and then stopped again.

“How dare,” Eglon stammered, barely containing his shock and rage. “I don’t believe – you can’t – I ought.”

Empress Neema placed her hand on Eglon’s arm. Ruth looked at Ehud with open admiration. These Israelites are brave and honorable, she thought. I should get to know them better. Especially Mahlon.

Eglon closed his eyes, breathed deeply and calmed himself. He was quiet for several moments.

“You are right,” Eglon said finally. “I am strong and these doubts are beneath me. Ehud, you are a true friend. Only a true friend would say what you said to me. I will not doubt your friendship. You are courageous to have risked your life to show me the error of my ways. I chose wisely when I chose you to represent Israel. Thank you.”

“I am here to serve, your Majesty – even if it will cost me my life.”

“You have my eternal trust. Go in peace, my friend.”

“I hope I will not disappoint you.” Ehud bowed and left the chamber.

Ruth didn’t understand how, but she knew both men were lying.

* * * * * *

5772, Book of Judges, Eglon, Fiction, Warrior Prophets

Warrior Prophets 2 Chapter 19 – Galkak’s Enemies

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Warrior Prophets 2 Chapter 19

Galkak’s Enemies

I’m going to kill that drunken fool, Katrun thought as he approached his king. He’s dismissed his guards again. This is my chance.

Katrun entered the stark audience chamber of Galkak, King of Amalek. He carried a new skin of wine for his majesty. Galkak now consumed prodigious amounts of wine, which his servants supplied on a constant basis. Galkak lay half-conscious on his throne, one leg over the armrest, with his golden crown balanced precariously on his knee. He was murmuring some inane Hebrew song to himself, “ani holech habayta…” Katrun didn’t understand the words and didn’t care for the idiosyncrasies of this strange monarch Eglon had foisted upon his people.

It had occurred eight years ago, when Eglon had managed to poison all the men of the city, and Galkak the drunk had been the only one left standing. Eglon had had the previous king murdered, and had promoted the unknown drunkard to king of the Amalekites. Galkak had demonstrated an innate canniness, negotiating a peaceful agreement with Eglon, conquering the Ammonites for him, taking an arrow for the large monarch and becoming his right-hand man and trusted friend. The Amalakites hated him, though. Galkak had participated effectively in the campaign against the Israelites, assisting Eglon in subjugating the Hebrew tribes with an iron hand. But there was something disturbing about Galkak that irritated all the Amalakites. They couldn’t put their finger on it. And one unsuccessful assassination attempt after another had failed to dislodge this irksome monarch.

Katrun thought of all this history as he brought the new wineskin to Galkak.

“Um,” Katrun cleared his throat to get Galkak’s attention. “Your wine, my liege.”

I can stab him right now, Katrun thought as his heart beat wildly against the dagger inside his robe. He is so weak and defenseless.

Galkak gave Katrun his full attention and smiled at the wine steward.

“Somethin’ on your mind, Katrun?” Galkak asked as he grabbed the wine skin, uncorked it, smelled it and took a long swig of the red liquid, part of it gushing freely down his trimmed beard.

“No, no, sire. I am here to serve. Is the wine to your liking?”

“Simeonite, from five harvests ago. One of my favorites.” Galkak burped and closed his eyes.

“Is there anything further, my liege?”

“Huh?” Galkak opened his eyes again. “No thanks, Katrun.”

Galkak fell asleep.

It would be so easy, Katrun thought, his breath getting shallower. But I will wait. Many other assassins died trying. I will wait until he is deeply asleep.

Katrun stepped a pace behind the throne and waited patiently.

 

 

“Babysitter!” Dirthamus hissed to himself as he slammed the door of his chambers.

“Eglon has relegated me to be a babysitter and I tire of it,” Dirthamus told the dark walls of his chamber. He clutched a white rooster by its neck and dragged it across the floor. The rooster squawked and clawed uselessly, dropping white feathers in its wake.

“He continues to favor that drunkard and I will finally put an end to that sycophant’s life. Babysitter! He forgets my power. He forgets the power that brought him the throne. I shall not be merely the caretaker of those Hebrew brats. I will again be his prime advisor and confidant.”

Dirthamus grabbed a large copper bowl from a shelf. Other utensils fell and clattered loudly on the cold stone floor. He grabbed the rooster with both hands and bit into its neck, letting the warm blood spill into the bowl. He discarded the still-moving bird and examined a row of jars on the shelf. He added a rat’s tail, a rabbit’s leg and a cat’s eye to the bowl and finally he took a knife and sliced his own palm, letting drops of blood fall into the bowl from his clenched fist.

The mixture sizzled and steamed. Dirthamus kneeled, rolled his eyes and chanted:

“Bo elai shed tehom. Bo elai shed tehom!”

A dark mist formed over the bowl.

“Who daresss call usss?” the mist asked.

“I ask the questions here, demon,” Dirthamus whispered. “I recognize and name you, Mefistos!”

The mist solidified into a red-skinned human with black horns and the legs of a goat. The demon bowed.

“You have named me and I am yoursss to ssserve. Until you lossse control.”

“I shall not lose control, Mefistos. I am Dirthamus, disciple of the great Bilaam. You shall obey my will.”

Dirthamus squeezed more blood from his fist onto the pan.

“Tareh et haoyev!” Dirthamus commanded the pan.

Another mist rose from the pan on which a scene appeared. The scene was Galkak’s chamber where an attendant stood at attention besides the throne of the slumbering monarch.

“This is who you must destroy,” Dirthamus pointed at Galkak in the mist.

“You call usss just to kill a man?” Mefistos hissed.

“He is canny and resourceful. He has killed every other human assassin that has attempted to kill him. I do not know how he does it. He drinks enough to kill a normal man and appears constantly drunk, but somehow he is able to save himself in time. Perhaps he has an ally I do not know about.”

“That isss all you desssire of usss?” Mefistos asked.

“Yes. If you can destroy Galkak then I shall release you as per the ancient rituals and with the proper protections.”

“Consssider him dead.” Mefistos smiled and disappeared.

 

 

Katrun watched his sleeping monarch impassively. Galkak’s troubled snoring and grunting had finally subsided to a calm consistent breathing.

I will put an end to this travesty, Katrun thought as he inched closer. When I see him like this I know why I hate him. He is not of Amalek. That explains why he is so soft on the Israelites and kills our own people so easily. Perhaps he is an Israelite himself. How ironic would that be? Our hated enemy crowned as our king. Well, I shall put an end to it now.

Katrun stood in front of the deeply snoring monarch. Katrun grabbed the dagger from within his robe and raised it high to strike violently into Galkak’s exposed chest. Katrun was surprised to find a sword suddenly enter his own belly and Galkak’s open eyes staring at him.

“Come closer,” Galkak whispered as Katrun’s dagger clattered to the stone floor. Galkak pushed the sword further up Katrun’s torso and pulled the bleeding wine steward closer.

“I’m glad you figur’d it out before the end,” Galkak said in Katrun’s ear.

“How, how?” was all Katrun could croak.

“Because I can hear your stinkin’ thoughts,” Galkak said. “Why do you think I have to drink so much? It’s the only thin’ that keeps all the voices at bay. But I can always hear murder.”

Galkak withdrew his sword from Katrun’s limp body and let him crumple to the floor.

“I hate bein’ the king,” Galkak said to the empty room.

 

 

“You’re asking for a king’s ransom,” King Galkak’s apothecary complained to Yered. Yered stood in the palace courtyard with a beautiful black and white monkey on his shoulder, wielding a tall walking stick in his hand.

“Good thing for a king’s palace it is,” Yered answered. “Silverweed cheap is not, and this freshness or quality between here and Tyre, find you will not.” Risto the monkey, with his wooden arm, chittered in agreement.

“What do you have for drunkenness? My master suffers greatly from the drink,” the apothecary whispered conspiratorially.

“Abstinence best remedy is, but celandine the head pain can ease. Some fresh celandine on us we have.”

Yered motioned to Risto who opened the compartment of his wooden arm and placed some crushed herbs into Yered’s hand.

“Three golds that will be,” Yered said as he handed the herbs to the apothecary.

“Robbery,” the apothecary mumbled.

“My business and my herbs elsewhere I can take.” Yered held back from passing the herbs.

“You are merciless, but you leave me no choice.” The apothecary counted three gold coins into Yered’s other hand. Yered gave the apothecary the herbs which he stored in a wide wooden box. The box contained multiple compartments that could each be closed individually.

“Apothecary!” a guard called. “The King needs you.”

“Perhaps you will come with me, friend?” the apothecary asked Yered. Mayhap you will have a better prescription for my master once you have seen his condition.”

“The way lead.”

 

 

Galkak was still slumped over his throne. Katrun’s body had been removed and two guards stood by the door of Galkak’s audience chamber. Katrun’s blood stained Galkak’s robes. His hangover was so bad that he hadn’t bothered changing. Galkak vaguely recalled killing Katrun. It was probably more out of instinct that any conscious thought. He barely recalled conscious thought. He seemed to be living from drink to drink, drowning out the thoughts of others from his mind and staying alert enough to survive to the next drink.

The apothecary entered the chamber with a thin, ancient-looking man and a strange monkey on his shoulder.

“I know you.” Galkak waved at Yered.

Yered approached Galkak. Risto hopped on Yered’s shoulder excitedly. Yered nodded. “Yes, Risto. Another prodigy. But a sad one.”

“Met before I do not believe,” Yered bowed. “But unexpected place to find you I can tell this is.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. We haven’t met, but I’ve heard stories about you.”

“Of service how can I be, King of Amalek?” Yered tried suppressing a laugh.

“Can you help me?” Galkak hiccupped.

“With the drinking or the voices?”

“How do you know?” Galkak sat up straighter.

“Few this skill develop. Fewer still how to use it learn.”

“Apothecary, guards, leave us.” Galkak had enough awareness to say. The guards and apothecary left the chamber.

“Can you heal me?” Galkak asked.

“Doubt healed you can be. Close to death you are. Until the drink kills you, just a matter of time. This before, I have seen. Horrific, pathetic and painful.”

“What can I do?”

“Drinking stop.”

“But how do I stop the voices?”

“Ah, a different issue that is. If drinking you stop, work on it we can.”

“Stop drinking? I think I’d rather die.” Galkak took another drink from the skin.

The door to the chamber opened and a starkly beautiful woman in a flowing red dress entered.

“Who are you?” Galkak demanded. “I did not order any courtesans.”

“But I am no ordinary woman, your majesssty, and I am sssure you would not wish to missss what I have to offer,” she said seductively.

Yered stood aside and Galkak sat up straight as the woman approached the throne. Risto jumped off Yered’s shoulder and hid in a corner of the chamber.

“Um, no thank you, sweet lady, I’m a bit preoccupied right now,” Galkak said. “Perhaps we can talk tomorrow.”

“Just one kissss, for you to remember me by.” The woman came within arm’s reach of Galkak. She then wrinkled her nose. “What is that horrendousss smell?”

“All the wine must be,” Yered volunteered.

“Ugh,” the woman frowned. “Well, a job is a job.” She moved to kiss Galkak.

Galkak scrambled and fell off his throne.

“Come now, my love.” The woman smiled. “I’m told my kissesss are unforgettable.”

“Woman as she seems is not,” Yered noted as he threw his staff at the woman.

The staff hit the woman on the head and bounced back to Yered. An aura around the woman steamed and then sizzled. In her place stood Mefistos, red-skinned, with horns and goat legs.

“Cursssed man,” Mefistos bellowed, baring his fangs. “You make my work more difficult.” Mefistos clawed at Galkak leaving a trail of long bloody marks on the King’s chest. Mefistos raised his other claw to tear at Galkak’s head, but Galkak parried the blow with his sword. Yered smashed his staff on Mefistos’ head. Mefistos roared and turned on Yered.

“I shall kill you old man, though it doesss me no good.” Mefistos vanished in a cloud only to reappear in another cloud directly behind Yered. Before Mefistos could pounce on the old man, Risto jumped from the shadows with a ripped wineskin in his arms and covered Mefistos’ head with it. Only the demon’s sharp horns protruded from the wineskin.

“I will kill you all!” Mefistos yelled.

Yered poked his staff into the demon’s stomach. Mefistos doubled over. Galkak ran over and slashed his sword over the demon’s neck. The sword bounced off harmlessly from a blow that would have decapitated a mortal.

“Notoriously difficult to kill, demons are. Imprison him we must,” Yered said as he smashed the demon on the head. Mefistos fell to his knees and started clawing at the air.

“How?” Galkak asked in a panic.

“Oil lantern.” Yered pointed to a lantern on a table. “Empty it you must and to me bring.”

Galkak ran to the table, grabbed the lantern, spilled out the oil and handed it to Yered. Yered waved his staff in a circle over the demon’s head and chanted: “asir asircha, ledor dorim, yashen shed, ad bo hagoel.”

The demon transformed into a mist, which funneled itself into the lantern in Yered’s hand. The mist emitted a piercing sound as it was sucked into the lantern. Once all the mist had entered the lantern, the lantern made a shrieking noise and then fell silent.

Yered waved his staff over the lantern and chanted: “shalosh bakashot lebaal hametzia, veaz lechofesh beolamchah.”

“Quick, Risto,” Yered motioned to the monkey. “The lantern out to the desert take and deeply it bury. For a few generations this demon found we do not want.”

Risto chittered excitedly, grabbed the lantern and hopped out of the chamber.

“Was that demon real, or is this a hallucination from the drinking?” Galkak asked as he was about to drink.

“Very real demon was. Hallucinations much worse can be.”

Galkak dropped the wineskin as if it was on fire.

“In that case, I quit,” Galkak said with a frightened burp.

* * * * * *

5772, Boaz, Book of Judges, Eglon, Ehud, Elimelech, Fiction, Mahlon, Nachshon, Naomi, Ruth, Warrior Prophets

Warrior Prophets 2 Chapter 18 – Baby Steps

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Warrior Prophets 2 Chapter 18

Baby Steps

Mahlon balanced himself on the edge of the palace wall. It was a two story drop to the training grounds below, but the danger did not trouble the eight year-old redhead. Mahlon enjoyed watching the Moabite soldiers train in the summer afternoon, but today he had another purpose. Ever since his father Elimelech had sent him as hostage to Eglon, together with the firstborns of the eleven other princes of Israel, Mahlon had taken every opportunity to disobey and tease his captors. His favorite prank had been placing the dung beetle on Eglon’s throne. Eglon still looked cautiously now when sitting down on his throne, remembering the sharp pincers of the beetle. Mahlon had a great new plan. He would place some oil on the step leading up to the throne. He only wished he could be there to see Eglon fall hard on his fat face.

Mahlon climbed down the brickwork of the palace and jumped into the Emperor’s empty audience chamber. Ever since the beetle prank, guards had been posted at the room’s entrance, even when Emperor Eglon was not present. But the guards were outside the closed door. They did not expect a diminutive intruder to climb in through the open window on the second story. The room was pleasantly cool despite the heat of the Jordan plain.

The audience chamber was a large room, dominated at its end by a large marble throne, with soft velvet cushions and two marble steps to reach the throne. There was a wooden chair on either side of the throne where the Empress and Dirthamus would often sit.

Rich silken drapes were spread throughout the room, creating a pleasant contrast of colors and shadows. Elaborate frescoes with historic scenes filled the walls. One fresco depicted Eglon’s conquest of Amalek with Galkak and Empress Neema facing the entire Moabite army. Another showed the wedding of Eglon and Neema in the great city of Rabbath Ammon. A third fresco illustrated the twelve princes of Israel bowing to Emperor Eglon. A fourth had an Israelite city in flames, the flames a bright orange that seemed to leap from the wall. Mahlon hated that fresco. It was a constant reminder of the punishment Eglon would inflict for disobedience. And he had.

In the year since his conquest of Canaan, he had burned three cities with all their inhabitants. Only one survivor was left from each city to recount the horror of watching friends and family burned alive. Two cities had been burned for their refusal to place a statue of Baal at the entrance. One city had been burned for a brawl that broke out between a Moabite soldier and a bridegroom, after the soldier had grabbed the prospective bride. Now every city and village of Israel had Baal at its entrance and no one resisted the Moabite soldiers.

Mahlon crept slowly to the throne. He heard a soft snoring from the side of the throne. Before he realized someone was there, a bony hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. Mahlon had not noticed the cadaverous figure sleeping in the shadow.

“What mischief are you up to, Judean brat?” Dirthamus hissed.

“Oh, nothing, sir. I must’ve gotten lost in the corridors,” Mahlon squeaked.

“You lie, son of Elimelech. How did you get past the guards? By one-eyed Bilaam! Your mind is closed to me. Curious, as your sire’s mind was quite open to me. Speak the truth or your punishment shall be severe.”

“Will you take me from my home and family? Will you whip me? Will you burn Bethlehem to the ground? What further punishment will you give me for entering here by accident?”

“Let me see what devices you bring with you.” Dirthamus searched Mahlon’s body roughly, not finding anything. Mahlon thanked the Hebrew God he had not brought a flask of oil as he had initially planned.

“You see? I told you it was an innocent mistake. Can I go now?”

“Not so fast. I shall escort you out to make sure you do not make any further mischief here. I will just get my staff and shall go to the guards.”

Dirthamus reached for the staff leaning against the chair. Mahlon kicked it, sending it clattering to the ground.

“I’m sorry!” Mahlon said. “I meant to get it for you. Let me fetch it.”

“No, you little runt! Do not move. I shall get it.”

Dirthamus hobbled off the chair and walked slowly to his staff behind the throne. Without moving from his location, Mahlon retrieved a damp cloth from his tunic. He raised it above the second step of the throne and squeezed. Several drops of clear oil fell upon the marble stair. Mahlon quickly tucked the cloth back in his tunic as Dirthamus came back with his staff.

“Now young Mahlon, let us make sure you do not cause any trouble on this important day.”

 

 

Eglon paced back and forth outside the birthing room.

“Why does it take so long?” Eglon asked Galkak who lounged on a marble bench in the hallway.

“I hear the babies like to stay in as long as they can, Boss. I don’t blame ‘em.” Galkak took a swig from his ever-present wine skin.

“I’m not sure if I should be nervous, excited or happy. My heir. He will insure the continuation of my empire. I will make him great. Eglon the Second. My name will last unto eternity, just like the Pharaohs. I will train him in all the arts. I will advise him. I shall make treaties for him. He shall be the greatest ruler after me. I’m glad you’re here to share this with me, Galkak. I’ve missed your company. Dirthamus is so stark and no one else understands me.”

“Yeah. Well things haven’t been fun at home for me either, Boss. I have assassination attempts every month now. The Amalekites aren’t happy with my rule. I have to kill ‘em to quiet ‘em down. They’re troubled by all this peace.”

“I understand. You and I are warriors, Galkak. The peace has been terrible for my weight.” Eglon held his growing belly. “Why, I’m larger than Neema has been with a baby in her stomach. And I’ve noticed you’re drinking more than ever before. We need another good war just for our sanity.”

“Who you goin’ to fight?”

“I don’t know. The Midianites perhaps. Though there is no good reason to do so. Our army is large enough. We’re up to five thousand men, with another hundred arriving every month. And why shouldn’t it grow? I pay well and the conditions are good. Though the Israelites are keeping my hands full. What with insuring the collections, taxes and tariffs. It takes much manpower to ensure that the Baals remain in every city and are properly cared for.”

A woman’s screaming and cursing burst from the birthing room.

“Is that good?” Eglon asked.

“I think so. The baby’s gettin’ ready to come out and it’s punishin’ the mother for bringin’ ‘im into this world.”

“That doesn’t sound very equitable.”

“Since when is anythin’ equitable in this world?”

“Galkak, you’re sounding more bitter than usual. Be happy for me. This is a momentous day. I’ve invited our friend, the Benjaminite blacksmith, to join us as well. I’d like the prophet of the Hebrew god to bless my heir and his future master.”

“Ehud?”

“Yes, I expect him to arrive any moment.”

 

 

Mahlon had never met his grandfather, Nachshon the Brave, though he had grown up hearing stories about him. He knew his own father, Elimelech, was a great fighter and prince of his tribe. He had heard dark rumors about his father going berserk during the last and decisive battle of Givaah. But it was his cousin Boaz whom Mahlon had always admired. Boaz, with the easy smile and the inner peace. The stories of his superhuman speed and uncanny senses. How he was instrumental during Joshua’s time when he was just a young boy. Mahlon had loved those stories and always sought out Boaz in his bakery in their city of Bethlehem.

Boaz had come to Mahlon before he was sent as a noble hostage.

“They will try to change who you are, who you are meant to be.” Boaz knelt on one knee so he could look straight into Mahlon’s eyes.

“How will they change me?” Mahlon trembled.

“They will teach you their ways, their customs, their values. It will be hard for you to remember your roots.”

“What will I do?” Mahlon asked.

“You must remember. You must remember who you are and where you come from. You must remember that there is a place inside yourself that no one can touch, that no one can change. You must not forget. You must find that place inside yourself. It is a quiet place. It is a calm place. That is you. You must protect it. You must visit it. You must nurture it and it will protect you.”

“I will remember,” Mahlon said.

“You will. And you will be brave. You are descended of the bravest men in all of Israel. The spirit of your grandfather will watch over you and help you. Never fear. The blood of princes is in our veins and it will take much more than an overfed Moabite to quash our spirit. Be strong and of good courage, Mahlon.” Boaz hugged his little cousin, wondering when he would see the boy again and in what condition.

Mahlon remembered all of this as Dirthamus dragged him to the training ground.

“Sergeant!” Dirthamus called. One of the soldiers approached the skeletal old man.

“We are not due to train the princelings until this afternoon,” the sergeant said.

“This one requires some additional training. And I would prefer that he not forget this training session. Painful, but not permanent. Am I understood, sergeant?” Dirthamus hissed.

“Yes.”

Dirthamus released Mahlon’s arm and hobbled back into the palace.

“What did you do this time, Mahlon?” the sergeant asked.

“Nothing. Dirthamus is just a crabby old man. I think I interrupted one of his naps.”

“Well that would explain it. I guess it’s the whip for you then, boy. Grab a shield and a short sword from the armory and we’ll see how long you last. I’ll only leave a mark or two to satisfy the sorcerer.”

“Thank you, sergeant.” Mahlon ran off to the armory.

 

 

“Ehud, my dear fellow!” Eglon embraced the squat blacksmith in a bear hug, lifting him off the floor. “It is so wonderful for you to join us on such a propitious day.”

“It is my duty to obey your commands, your Majesty,” Ehud said.

“Yes, yes, of course. But today is special. My heir is about to be born. Your future liege. And I would have my friend, the great prophet of the Hebrew god, bless him on his birth.

“I shall do as you wish,” Ehud bowed.

“Ah, Ehud, so formal. You are amongst friends. Why, Galkak is the least formal man in my empire. Isn’t that so, Galkak?”

Galkak burped in reply as one of his legs swung beside the bench he was reclining on.

“See!” Eglon said cheerily. “This is a cause for celebration.”

Another scream escaped from the birthing room.

“They’re coming much closer,” Eglon noted.

“Yeah. I think it’ll come out any moment now,” Galkak confirmed.

 

 

Mahlon sat hunched over on his bed. The two whip marks on his back hurt horribly. He refused to cry. He refused to give any Moabite the satisfaction of seeing his tears. His fellow princelings knew to leave him alone. He did not want pity or sympathy. The children of the princes of Israel understood him. They each had rebelled and suffered in their own way. They left him alone as he wanted.

Mahlon rocked back and forth on his bed as he tried to ignore the pain. He sought that inward space Boaz had spoken to him of. He blocked out the talking of his companions. He ignored the sounds of the soldiers training. He drove his consciousness deeper and deeper within himself. He remembered his father with his big red beard that he had suddenly cut short during the war. He remembered his mother, beautiful Naomi. Sweet and kind and gentle. He remembered his younger brother, Kilyon – the one most pained by their separation. He thought of Boaz and his inner peace. He thought about the stories of his grandfather Nachshon and how he jumped into the Sea of Reeds, ahead of its parting, allowing the Children of Israel to escape the Egyptian army. And then he thought of himself. His breathing slowed down. The pain receded. He felt a certain lightness and comfort. Then he heard a whisper. He wasn’t sure where it came from, or if he had imagined it, or if he was talking to himself.

“I will not leave you,” the whisper said.

“Thank you,” Mahlon thought back to the whisper.

“Today is a special day,” the whisper said.

“Why?” Mahlon asked in his mind.

“Your intended has been born.”

 

 

The wail of a newborn broke the anticipating silence.

“This is it!” Eglon giggled and approached the door to the birthing room on tiptoes.

“Congratulations, Boss!” Galkak offered from his bench.

“May this be a day of joy for all your subjects,” Ehud said.

“Yes. We must celebrate this momentous day somehow. We must let all of our people know of the birth of Eglon the Second and share in our happiness.”

A woman exited the birthing room and announced:

“You may come in now, sire.”

“Come Galkak, Ehud. I would have you with me at this moment,” Eglon called.

The trio entered the room quietly. Neema, sweat-drenched and exhausted, lay on a large bed looking content and holding a wrapped bundle to her bosom.

“My Empress!” Eglon announced. “Mother of my heir! Congratulations! Well done! Well done, indeed! Let me look upon my son.”

“Oh, do look at her, Eglon. She’s beautiful,” Neema said, not taking her eyes off the baby.

“Her? What do you mean her?” Eglon asked, confused.

“Why, silly, it’s a girl.” Neema gently lifted the bundle, offering the baby to Eglon.

Eglon took the baby awkwardly. The baby cried lustily in her father’s hands. Eglon unwrapped the cloth around the baby to peer between its legs.

“It is a girl,” he concluded.

“It’s not something I would have mistaken,” Neema said. “Give her back to me. We need to teach you how to hold a baby.”

Eglon gingerly handed the baby to Neema. Neema discretely lifted her robe and held the baby to her breast, letting the hungry infant suckle.

“But what about a boy?” Eglon asked, still dazed.

“We’ll just have to keep trying,” Neema answered.

“I wanted a boy,” Eglon said, irritation creeping into his voice.

“Well, the gods apparently had other plans. Go talk to them if you’re disappointed,” Neema responded icily.

Eglon looked at Neema as if for the first time. He then looked closely at the baby.

“No, no, my dearest. I am quite pleased. True, a boy would have been marvelous, but you are right. The gods have other plans. And look at her. She is beautiful. Those lustrous red curls. Those bright blue eyes. Perhaps she shall be a bride worthy of a Pharaoh – that would make for a mighty alliance! I foresee great things for her!”

Eglon closed his eyes. The room filled with an eerie silence. A new presence pervaded the room. Ehud and Galkak shifted where they stood, sensing something different.

“She shall be a matriarch of kings,” Eglon said quietly and opened his eyes. “Her name will be remembered for eternity. She shall be numbered amongst the great of the world. That is my blessing to her. Ehud, now you bless her. Call down your Hebrew god, that he may think kindly of this child of mine.”

“He is already here,” Ehud whispered and looked around the room in confusion. He approached Neema and held out his hands. Neema lifted the baby and gave her to Ehud. Ehud held the baby with a gentle, experienced rocking. The baby opened its eyes and stared into Ehud’s. Ehud closed his own eyes and searched for the spirit of God. He stood still for a few moments, nodded to the unseen force, opened his eyes, and spoke.

“You are a daughter of greatness, and greatness you will achieve. Your line will never die and will ever flourish in the harshest of places. Kindness shall be your bastion and strength your inheritance. In the footsteps of goodness you will traverse and courage shall never leave you. Sorrow and anguish shall not detain you, rather honor and glory shall be your reward. May God’s wings always protect you, child of Moab.”

Ehud handed the baby back to a joyfully tearful Neema. Eglon embraced Ehud strongly.

“That was beautiful,” Eglon said with tears. “Absolutely beautiful. Thank you, Ehud. I appreciate it most deeply.”

“What shall we call her, dear?” Neema asked.

“Ruth,” Eglon answered without thinking. “Her name is Ruth.”

 

 

Mahlon lay on his bed, flat on his stomach so as not to aggravate his whip wounds. He had been excused from his lessons. He hated learning Egyptian hieroglyphics, so was relieved to miss it. What an inefficient way of communicating, he thought. He repeated to himself the list of the ten plagues, to keep his mind busy, to remember the lessons from his father: Blood, Frogs, Lice, Animals, Pestilence, Boils, Hail, Locusts, Darkness, Death of the Firstborns. May they all fall upon Eglon. Blood, Frogs…

A soldier entered his room where seven other beds lay empty. The soldier commanded Mahlon to report to the palace entrance. Mahlon put on a fresh tunic that irritated his back and marched out of his quarters.

Dirthamus waited with the other Hebrew princelings at the entrance to the palace. The children of the Israelite princes consisted of eight boys and four girls between the ages of four and eighteen. Dirthamus made sure Mahlon’s tunic covered his whip marks and smiled thinly at the obvious discomfort Mahlon was feeling. He then escorted the children up the main palace stairs and into the audience chamber. Four guards stood at the chamber doors. Two of them entered with Dirthamus and the children and placed themselves at either side of the doors. Dirthamus made the Israelites stand at attention as he sat down on his wooden chair to the right of the marble throne. Why are we being brought here? Mahlon wondered. He noticed a shiny spot on the marble step to Eglon’s throne. It would be a dream come true if I could actually witness him fall, Mahlon prayed.

Shortly thereafter Eglon entered the chamber followed by Ehud and Galkak.

“You see, Ehud.” Eglon gestured towards the children. “They are well cared-for and in wonderful condition. We see to their education and training. They will be models. Examples of what a citizen of our empire will look like.”

“I am glad to see they are whole,” Ehud said. “When will you let them see their families?”

“I think once a year is sufficient.” Eglon walked towards his throne. “I do want there to be a connection between the children and their families. If they were strangers to each other that would defeat the purpose of these noble hostages. We want to pull on the strings of the heart without severing them. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“It will certainly be a unique experience. Only time will tell the consequences of their incarceration.” Ehud gazed into the eyes of each child. He looked into Mahlon’s eyes and read his pain and anticipation. Mahlon looked down, embarrassed by Ehud’s ability to see through him.

Let Eglon trip. Let him fall, Mahlon thought to himself.

“Incarceration?!” Eglon climbed the first step to the throne and stopped. “They live as princes! They eat at my table. They are free to roam throughout our compound. I have provided them with the best teachers in the empire. Every Israelite family must be jealous of the treatment these twelve are receiving here. Perhaps we should open more spots and let the wealthy of Israel pay for the privilege of such an education?”

One more step. Just one more step you evil, pompous glutton, Mahlon commanded Eglon with his mind.

Dirthamus turned his head around as if looking for some hidden enemy. Ehud and Galkak both looked at Mahlon, their faces impassive. Eglon placed one sandaled foot on the second step. This is it! Mahlon thought as he felt his heart leap. Eglon raised his second foot and then time seemed to slow down.

Eglon’s foot slipped on the marble step. His arms flailed like a bird trying to take flight. His heavy bulk threw him off balance. He toppled off the second step, face first, and slammed loudly onto the polished stone floor.

Yes! Mahlon wanted to jump for joy, but some instinct kept him in place with the impassive face he had just seen on Ehud and Galkak.

A crunching noise emanated from Eglon’s face as his nose moved into an unnatural position. Blood spurted out of Eglon’s fleshy nose as he moaned loudly. Ehud and Galkak rushed to Eglon’s side and quickly lifted the dazed monarch. Blood flowed freely down Eglon’s face and robe, creating a large red stain on his pristine white garment. Dirthamus stood up, shocked and spluttering.

“My liege!” Dirthamus croaked.

“My nose!” Eglon moaned as he brought his hand to his broken nose, trying to stem the flow of blood.

The Israelite children stood very quietly, except for two of the younger ones who giggled until the older ones stared them into silence.

“Call for some cloths and the healer!” Galkak commanded the guards. One of them ran out of the chamber.

“I’m fine. I’m fine,” Eglon claimed as Ehud and Galkak helped him onto the throne. “I don’t know why I lost my balance like that. Very strange.”

Eglon looked at the assembled Israelites who stood quietly.

“Did I hear laughter at my fall?” Eglon accused them. “I should have your eyes blinded for having witnessed my disgrace. I will think of some suitable punishment.”

Eglon looked at each child in turn. When he reached Mahlon, he sat back and drew his breath in. An irrational fear tightened Eglon’s throat.

The eight year old smiled back, giving a name to his newfound feeling. Power.

* * * * * *

5772, Book of Judges, Eglon, Ehud, Elimelech, Fiction, Pinhas, Warrior Prophets

Warrior Prophets 2 Chapter 17 – Council of Shilo

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Warrior Prophets 2 Chapter 17

Council of Shilo

“You have to see those Phoenician dancers,” Kaspa of Zevulun addressed the other princes of Israel sitting bundled in front of the Tabernacle at Shilo. “The way they move will drive you mad.”

“Isn’t their dance part of their worship?” asked Avod of Simeon, as the autumn wind rustled the leaves of the large oak trees behind them.

“Who cares about their worship,” Kaspa answered as he drew his rich burgundy robe tighter. “We have learned to adjust to the rituals of all who we deal with. Why, I can tell you the genealogy, powers and sacrifices for at least a dozen different gods. As merchants we need to keep abreast of all developments. There is a wonderful tale now being told about the gods and King Gilgamesh of Uruk.”

“Enough!” Pinhas, the High Priest shouted. “Have you so descended into the heathen ways that all you can talk about is their worship?”

“I’m sorry, Pinhas,” Kaspa said. “I was just making conversation as we wait for the mysterious Ehud to appear. Everyone else is here.”

The twelve princes of Israel sat together with Pinhas in a circle. The princes were accompanied by their tribal elders, and behind them sat the captains of their forces. On the cloudless morning, they still felt the strong eastern breeze, with no trace of salt from the Great Sea miles away. The naked grapevines whistled a mournful tune as the wind caressed the bare wood and traveled through the thick brush behind it.

“I would have expected Ehud to be the first one here,” Avod said. “He was the one who issued the summons.”

“Summons?” Kaspa said. “It was worded more like a command to accept Eglon’s subjugation and I can tell you already that the tribe of Zevulun will not accede to this request.”

“It is easy for you to say,” Avod replied. “It is the southern tribes that will bear the brunt of any fighting, while you merchants go gallivanting away on your ships. You’re just worried that Eglon will cut into your profits.”

“Yes. I am concerned for our profits. Our trade has been successful and if we let ourselves be subjugated by Eglon, then what? I say we fight!”

“And I say the cause is lost and subjugation is not so bad,” Avod replied. “Our brothers to the east, Reuven and Gad are already under Eglon’s dominion and they are unharmed. The cities of Benjamin are all but annihilated and Judah is about to fall. We of Simeon are next on Eglon’s menu. Eglon has promised to then bear his army upon the rest of Israel. Ephraim shall be after us and then Menashe. Do you think the rest of you will be spared?”

“What does Elimelech of Judah say?” Kaspa asked the red-headed prince. “You have ever been at the head of all fighting and your tribe is suffering the most now, yet you are strangely quiet.”

All eyes looked upon the seated prince. Elimelech looked pained as he cleared his throat.

“I am unsure how to proceed,” Elimelech said. “I have confronted Ehud. I was the one who saw him marching with Eglon and spread the report. I was the one who originally accused him of being Eglon’s agent, yet now I am confused. My own nephew, our great warrior Boaz, refuses to fight. Ehud said that our subjugation by Eglon is the will of God and punishment for our disloyalty to Him. As I hear your comfort with the strange gods, I begin to suspect that Ehud may be right. We lost so many at the battle of Givaah and we were wrong. I dare not make such fatal decisions again. I will abide by the will of the council but will not voice an opinion for or against. That is the position of Judah, which in any case does not have many sons left to sacrifice.”

“I do not believe my ears.” Kaspa stood. “Is this Elimelech son of Nachshon the Brave? Where is your spine? When did you become a sniveling coward?”

“Is it brave to sacrifice lives needlessly?” Elimelech asked. “I cannot bear to see the agony of my people further. I will not inflict death upon them, nor do I wish to witness their suffering. If that is cowardice, then I am guilty – I am guilty of much worse – especially pride and reckless bravery.”

“You have lost your spine and your brain, Elimelech,” Kaspa responded. “Do you think that your people, that all our people will not suffer under Eglon’s reign? Do you think he will not squeeze our land, our flocks, our people until we are dry and dream of Egyptian slavery? Come brothers,” Kaspa spread his hands to the other princes. “Elimelech has said that he will abide by the will of our council. We must fight! Even if it is hopeless. In other lands, they fight for much lesser causes. The Aegeans rallied all their allies and gods to destroy the Trojans just for one woman. And we fight for nothing less than our freedom! We cannot allow these foreigners to invade and infest our land unchallenged. I would rather die free than live under the foot of another! What say you brothers? Are you with me?”

Nodding and murmurs of agreement spread around the circle of princes until rustling from the oak tree nearest them made them turn around.

Ehud descended from the tree, his sword at his side, and walked purposely towards the princes.

“You were here all along?” Kaspa asked the approaching blacksmith.

Ehud walked grimly towards the circle and did not answer.

“Well, what do you have to say for yourself?” Kaspa demanded as Ehud reached the circle. “What is this charade about?”

Ehud moved through the elders and captains of Zevulun to reach Kaspa.

“Say something, man!” Kaspa squealed.

In one fluid motion, Ehud unsheathed his sword and beheaded Kaspa. Kaspa’s body fell to the ground with a thud. His head landed right-side up, his mouth still open in shock. All the princes and their retinues stood abruptly.

“Does anyone else wish to die free?” Ehud turned towards the other princes.

“You, you dare kill a prince of Israel?” Avod stuttered.

“I have had enough! Enough of stubborn and foolhardy princes throwing our lives away. Enough of blindly following decisions of princes too ready to risk our lives.” Ehud looked meaningfully at Elimelech and at his own Prince Giltar of Benjamin. “I will kill more princes until I beat sense into your arrogant minds. Who else wants to sentence thousands more of our brothers to death?” Ehud pointed his sword at each prince in turn. “I promise you that I will kill the leadership of any tribe that insists on fighting until we find someone with sense.”

Ehud turned to the elders and captains of Zevulun and pointed his bloody sword at them.

“Who will take Kaspa’s place? Do you still wish to resist? It is easy enough to fight when it is not your life on the line. Well, I am bringing the fight to you right here and now. Who wishes to fight!?”

The elders and captains of Zevulun looked sheepishly at Kaspa’s beheaded corpse but did not answer.

Laughter erupted from the wild brush behind the desolate vineyards. Eglon stood up from the brush in a resplendent white woolen robe and walked through the vineyard, ducking and weaving under the suspended vines.

“Brilliant! Masterful!” Eglon announced as hundreds of soldiers emerged from the brush and followed him. Eglon strode through the council circle and approached Ehud on the other side. The Moabite soldiers surrounded the council assembly.

“My most loyal and effective servant! You are truly a prophet of your god.” Eglon announced. “I am most pleased by your performance, Ehud. You have acted perfectly in assembling your council and cutting the foolish resistance at its core.” Eglon kicked the head of Kaspa, which rolled gently towards Elimelech.

“My dear princes of Israel.” Eglon looked at the princes with raised eyebrows. “Can I assume that I will have your cooperation?”

Nods from the circle of princes were his answer.

“Excellent!” Eglon clapped his beefy hands. “Now let us make this new arrangement a bit more formal, shall we? First, I hereby declare Ehud of Benjamin as King of Israel. He shall represent all the tribes of Israel before me.”

Murmurs of disagreement spread throughout the circle. Eglon looked at Ehud in confusion. Ehud shook his head, as if to say, “bad idea.”

“God is our King,” Elimelech said. “If you would have us as cooperative subjects, you cannot place a king over us.”

“I see,” Eglon held his clean-shaven chin and spoke to himself. “Perhaps the wrong place to start. It is semantics anyway. Fine.”

“Ehud shall merely be our intermediary to the tribes of Israel,” Eglon said loudly. “He shall represent you in all your dealings with me and he shall be responsible to carry out my commands in regards to you. Is that more satisfactory?”

The princes nodded.

“Now to more mundane matters. I will expect tribute of one fifth of your harvests and flocks annually.”

A gasp of shock went around the circle.

“What did you expect?” Eglon asked with a smirk. “We can make it more if you feel I am being too soft a conqueror.”

The princes gave him attentive silence.

“Good. I knew you would see it my way. Besides the tribute, each city and village will house and feed a unit of my soldiers. If any soldier of mine is harmed, I shall burn the offending village to the ground with all its inhabitants.”

The gulps of the princes were almost audible.

“Furthermore, each prince shall send their firstborn child to be permanent guests of Moab. Whichever prince does not accept this most gracious of invitations will be killed along with his entire family.”

Mouths opened wide in disbelief.

“Yes,” Eglon continued. “This is a venerable tradition of conquering nations. I have studied much the arts of war and conquest. The taking of royal children is a wonderful practice. It leads to greater understanding of each other and peaceful relations, which is what we all wish for, is it not?”

“All merchants, and especially those of Zevulun, shall give tribute of one fifth of their proceeds. I will have special units assigned to oversee commerce and safeguard all routes. I do not wish for the Phoenicians to take advantage of our hard work that allows them to ply their wares. We shall tax the Egyptians, the Aegeans, the Assyrians and any other people that cross our dominion. All tributes shall be brought to the new capital of the Moabite Empire on the plains of the Jordan River. Cooperation shall be rewarded with life; resistance shall be repaid with death. Do I make myself clear?”

The princes nodded.

“I do not hear you.”

“Yes, we understand,” the princes murmured.

“That is not good enough,” Eglon grimaced. “I need for each of you to swear fealty unto me, loudly and clearly.”

“We hear and obey, our lord Emperor Eglon,” Avod was the first to state and bow down. The other princes in turn each bowed and repeated, “We hear and obey, our lord Emperor Eglon.”

“That will do, I suppose,” Eglon smiled at the princes.

“There is one last matter that you will indulge me,” Eglon purred. “At the entrance to every city and village you shall place a statue of Baal and you shall worship him. Any city found deficient in the worship of Baal will be subject to the customary punishments. Death. Burning to the ground. So on and so forth.”

“We hear and obey, our lord Emperor Eglon,” the princes chanted in unison. Tears flowed freely down the face of Pinhas, the High Priest. Eglon left the circle of princes who made way for the large monarch as he rejoined his army. Ehud, still holding his bloody sword, slowly followed Eglon away from the princes. Ehud clenched his teeth and turned the sword ever so slightly towards Eglon’s back. The gesture did not go unnoticed by the surrounding princes.

* * * * * *

5772, Boaz, Book of Judges, Eglon, Ehud, Fiction, Warrior Prophets

Warrior Prophets 2 Chapter 16 – Divide and Conquer

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Warrior Prophets 2 Chapter 16

Divide and Conquer

Tamir trembled as his stallion approached Eglon’s army. He was alone on the Arava Road, riding east between the desert mountains. A white cloth flapped upon the old spear he carried high in the early autumn morning. Ehud had promised him he would be safe, that Eglon would not kill a messenger. Tamir trembled nonetheless. He had heard the widow from Naaran, Melil, heavily pregnant, when she arrived at his city of Mizpah. She described the massacre. How Eglon’s hordes overwhelmed the lightly defended city and burned the survivors. Melil had described Eglon as relishing the bloodshed. The sobbing widow urged the people of Mizpah to surrender and then left on her mare to warn the next city.

Then Ehud had appeared with his bride, Blimah. Ehud too had pleaded with the elders of Mizpah that they should surrender. Ehud had been pleased to see Tamir, his former apprentice and placed on him this mission. A message to Eglon.

Moabite scouts spotted Tamir and kept their drawn arrows aimed at the messenger. A scout rode ahead on the road and confronted Tamir.

“What is your business here, Hebrew?” the scout asked.

“A have a message for Eglon,” Tamir said nervously.

“Follow me.” The scout led Tamir into the massive Moabite formation and to a chariot carrying the large monarch. Galkak on his mare was next to the chariot. The army was camped right outside the city of Michmash. The gate lay open as Moabite soldiers and Benjaminite residents entered and exited the city. Michmash had surrendered as soon as Eglon’s army had come into sight.

“A Hebrew messenger,” the scout announced.

“Wonderful!” Eglon clapped his hand. “Perhaps another city has surrendered before we even approach? Who is the message from?”

“From Ehud of Benjamin,” Tamir held out a papyrus scroll.

“Ehud!” Eglon grabbed the scroll hungrily. “This may answer the mystery of his disappearance.”

Eglon opened the scroll.

 

Your Majesty, Emperor Eglon, Ruler of Moab, Ammon, Amalek and Conqueror of Canaan, God be with you.

I am pained to be separated from your side. After the ambush on the Arava Road, Blimah and I were waylaid by the ambushers. We were able to escape, but it delayed our reunion with your forces. I decided I would be of greatest use by proceeding ahead to encourage a peaceful resolution of your objectives.

I look forward to looking upon your countenance soon.

Your humble servant,

Ehud son of Gera of Benjamin

 

“Curious,” Eglon said. “Where is Ehud now?”

“I left him at Mizpah, but I believe he was heading south into the tribe of Judah,” Tamir answered.

“I would like you to find him and take a message back to him,” Eglon said. Eglon removed some papyrus and a quill from a compartment in his chariot. He scribbled something quickly, rolled and tied the scroll and gave it to Tamir.

“What if I can’t find Ehud?” Tamir asked.

“Then we shall hunt you down and kill you,” Eglon said with a smile.

“I will find him.” Tamir swallowed and trotted out of the camp quickly.

“You’re a great motivator, Boss,” Galkak said.

“Fear and greed, Galkak. Fear and greed.” Eglon looked at the receding Tamir.

“I’m glad to hear Ehud’s alive,” Galkak said. “I think I’ve grown fond of that Israelite. What will you do when you see him?”

“That will depend on the matter of our meeting. If he has helped our cause, I shall give him great honor. The alternative, I assure you, will be most unpleasant.”

 

 

 

Ehud and Blimah rode to Bethlehem warily. They had found fresh mounts in Mizpah and made good time on the road south. On either side of the road were golden fields of wheat. The ramparts of the city were well-manned and the gate was only slightly ajar with a company of soldiers guarding the entrance.

“The last time I was here was for Boaz and Vered’s wedding,” Ehud explained to Blimah. “What a disaster.”

“The marriage?” Blimah asked as she adjusted the dagger at her belt.

“No, no. Vered and Boaz are happily married. It was the day the Philistines attacked. It was quite a battle. It took me, Boaz and Caleb to bring down their king, a mad metallic giant by the name of Akavish. Joshua held their army off with lightning and thunder. Vered almost died. If Amitai hadn’t led our militia in time it may have ended very differently.”

“And now you’re going to ask Boaz not to fight? Will he agree?”

“I don’t know. He’s not as stubborn as his uncle Elimelech, but he is our deadliest fighter. I was able to knock him out at the battle of Givaah when I had an entire army to support me. I’m not sure how to stop him now without killing him.”

A figure ran out of the gate of Bethlehem. Ehud immediately knew who the blur was that approached with superhuman speed. Ehud raised his sword. In response, a sword clanged against his own, aimed at Ehud’s neck. The sword was held by Boaz.

“I can sense the violence in your heart, Ehud,” Boaz whispered. “Is it directed at me? Are the rumors true?”

“Violence is a last resort, Boaz. I’d much rather you listened to reason.”

“You would have us roll over and play dead? You would let Moab subjugate us, without resistance? I thought I knew you better than that.”

“Can we talk about it without swords at our throats? It’s been a difficult journey and I would see my wife rested.”

Boaz looked at Blimah as if noticing her for the first time.

“My apologies,” Boaz lowered his sword and bowed to Blimah, “and congratulations on your marriage. You are welcome to come to our home, though I may have to kill your husband if he has truly become treacherous.”

“Your friends are so sweet, Ehud,” Blimah looked at her husband. “Do they all want to kill you, or only the ones who know you well?”

“Boaz, this is Blimah of the sharp tongue. More dangerous and painful than the swords we carry.”

“Sounds like a marriage made in heaven. Let us go to my house and Vered will take care of you.”

The trio entered Bethlehem and arrived at Boaz’s large stone house. The front of the house was a bakery. The scent of freshly baked bread wafted in the air.

“Vered! We have company!” Boaz called out.

Vered entered the bakery with a flour covered apron over her simple beige dress, and a white head-shawl tightly wrapped around her long red tresses.

“Ehud,” Vered scowled. “You sent my husband back to me with a serious head injury after your last encounter.”

“Good to see you too, Vered. It was either a head injury or dead. Please meet my wife, Blimah.”

“Your husband should go back to blacksmithing and stop playing soldier,” Vered addressed Blimah, “or you may find yourself with a very short marriage.”

“I tell him the same thing, but he is intent on saving the world.”

“Men,” Vered shook her head. “When will they realize we’re all better off without their games? There is work to be done.”

“Vered,” Boaz said. “I’m sure our guests are hungry. Let us feed them and perhaps we can then have a more civil discussion.”

Boaz directed their guests to the large oak table and Vered brought out fresh pitas and rolls, together with olive oil and some vegetables. Vered showed them a basin with water where they could wash. The four sat down and ate quietly.

“Delicious bread,” Ehud complemented the couple. “I can see why your bakery is so successful.”

“Thank you,” Boaz answered. “Now please tell me why I shouldn’t kill you? Is it true you marched with Eglon?”

“Blimah,” Vered interrupted, “perhaps you would like to see some of my knitting while the boys chat?”

Blimah looked at Ehud. “I’d rather stay with my husband while I still have him.” Blimah tightened her grip on her dagger below the view of the others.

“Must be a newlywed thing,” Vered answered. “Well, I have work to do. If you’ll excuse me.” Vered got up from the table and left the room.

“Boaz, do you remember at Joshua’s last assembly when he spoke to you and me?”

“I will never forget that day.”

“Do you remember what he said to me?”

“Something about you killing my future father-in-law, but that we shouldn’t worry about it. That you would lead some battle and that then we would have tranquility.”

“Yes. He also spoke about the cycle of oppression God would bring: ‘He will bring oppressors onto Israel whenever we stray from His path.’”

“So what are you saying? That this is the beginning of a cycle?”

“Yes.”

“How do you know?”

“God told me.”

Boaz looked at Ehud in silence. He then closed his eyes and sought Ehud’s inner essence with his Vision. Boaz opened his eyes.

“You have changed,” Boaz said with a respectful tone. “Grown. You are no longer the brash warrior I knew. You are speaking the truth and are not crazed. How did this come to pass? What did God say to you?”

“I don’t know how. After the battle of Givaah I was poisoned and unconscious. God protected and healed my body and showed me visions of the war and the massacre of my tribe. He said he had chosen me. He spoke to me a second time at Shilo. I remember every word: ‘You must choose your battles and enemies carefully. Now is not the time. The Children of Israel have much more to suffer before salvation. They must understand pain. They must understand the extent of their sins and false worship before they are freed. The subjugation will begin shortly. You must be there at the beginning, be instrumental at its inception, so that you may save my people when the time is right.’”

“This is difficult to accept,” Boaz said.

“I know. Your uncle Elimelech tried to kill me and will likely try again next time he sees me.”

“I don’t blame him. I planned to do the same. But what would you have me do? I will not stand with the enemy.”

“Just don’t stand against him. And don’t let your brothers throw their lives away trying to fight him. They will surely die and Eglon will surely be victorious. We need to wait, bide our time and most importantly, repent. We must lead our brothers away from idol-worship. We have been too forgiving, turning a blind eye to their secret and not-so-secret worship. This strange worship has taken hold of our people. When the time is right, when our people understand, then we will break free.”

“Bitter medicine,” Boaz said.

“Yes. It is even more painful up close. I have good news though. You will never guess who is now king of Amalek and Eglon’s right hand man.”

“Unless the king of Amalek is utterly incompetent, how could it be good news? They hate us more than any of our other enemies.”

“Galkak of Simeon is king of Amalek.”

Boaz’s mouth opened wide.

“That drunken rascal?” Boaz finally said. “He is king of Amalek and right hand to Eglon? How in the world is such a thing possible? Do they not realize he is Israelite?”

“He has fooled them all, especially Eglon.”

“Then there is hope. Amitai used to be very close with him. He’ll get a good laugh out of it.”

“We must be discreet with this information. If word gets back to Eglon, Galkak will be dead. We must be patient. Will you help?”

Boaz ran his hand over his full red beard.

“I will not fight. But I will certainly not march with Eglon as you do. I will remain neutral. Do not ask more of me.”

“That is good enough and it is certainly better than my having to kill you.”

“What makes you think you would have succeeded?”

“Because you were focusing on the wrong threat.”

“Blimah.” Boaz looked at Ehud’s wife through narrowed eyes.

“Yes. She was ready to stab you the moment I signaled. She is quite fast and vicious with a knife. She killed Gheda — whom by the way was Eglon’s agent — before any of us could react.”

Blimah smiled. “I’m glad to see you boys are playing nicely.”

“Was this a marriage of love or convenience?” Boaz asked.

“Both,” the couple answered simultaneously.

An urgent knock on the door interrupted them.

Boaz opened the door and let a breathless Tamir in.

“Message for Ehud,” Tamir gasped.

“What is it?” Ehud got up.

“From Eglon. He said he’d hunt me down and kill me if I didn’t find you.” Tamir held out the scroll for Ehud.

Ehud took the scroll, untied and read it.

He handed it to Boaz.

 

My dear blacksmith and prophet of Israel, Ehud,

It pleases me no end to hear of your survival and efforts for our cause.

Please convene the leaders of the tribes of Israel that I may seek a speedy resolution of our disagreement.

I grow impatient and would hate to take out my disappointment on my favorite Israelite or his lovely wife.

Your Emperor,

Eglon

 

“Emperor?” Boaz asked.

“Yes. He has styled himself Emperor with his successful conquest of Ammon and Amalek. He intends to conquer all the tribes of Israel and rival the Egyptians.”

“He does not trust you.”

“No. But it does not matter. He relies on me and I have told him that he is a tool of God.”

“Will you gather the princes? They will kill you before listening to you.”

“Do I have a choice?”

“You can flee.”

“No. This is my mission and I will see it through, even if it kills me.”

“Or a loved one?” Boaz looked at Blimah.

“I like the excitement,” Blimah said as she grabbed Ehud’s hand. “Meeting new people, enduring threats, killing, running, and then doing it all over again. Isn’t this what married life is about?”

“I see you are a perfect match,” Boaz said. “Is there anything else I can help you with, Ehud?”

“Yes. Calm Elimelech, or at least slow him down. He is the most combative of the princes. If I can pacify him, there might be hope.”

“Then you better get out of here before he returns home to Bethlehem.”

Boaz escorted Ehud and Blimah to the gate of Bethlehem. Vered prepared food for them to take on the road. As they reach the gate they spot a horseman riding to the city at breakneck speed. The horseman was Amitai, Boaz’s closest friend.

“Boaz, hurry!” Amitai shouted as he neared them. “Ehud? What are you doing here? No matter. We need every good fighter we can get.”

“What happened?” Boaz asked.

“Kiryat Yearim is under attack by Moabites. It will not last long without reinforcements.”

“I think it is time for us to leave,” Ehud said.

“You’re not going to help?” Amitai asked incredulously.

“No. It is hopeless. Whoever does not surrender is asking for death. Good luck.”

Ehud and Blimah rode away from Bethlehem.

“I don’t believe it!” Amitai said. “I saw him throw himself into a hoard of Philistines and now he walks away?”

“He has his reasons.”

“What about you? Will you raise the alarm? Will you lead us against these invaders?”

With a pained look on his face, Boaz gazed silently at Ehud and Blimah riding into the distance.

 

* * * * * *

 

5772, Book of Judges, Eglon, Ehud, Elimelech, Fiction, Warrior Prophets

Warrior Prophets 2 – Chapter 15: Burning Hebrews

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Warrior Prophets 2 Chapter 15

Burning Hebrews

“Heeyaaa!!” Blimah yelled as she smashed the back of her fist into Elimelech’s face. The knife he had been holding to her neck clanged on the stone floor of the cave. Blimah grabbed Elimelech’s arm, twisted it behind his back, and forced him face down onto the floor, her foot firmly on his neck.

“I’m sick and tired of everyone threatening me and my husband!” Blimah said furiously as she picked up Elimelech’s fallen knife. “Perhaps I should have married a simple farmer instead.”

Meanwhile, Ehud slipped out of the grasp of the men holding his arms, elbowed both of them hard in the stomach and kicked the Israelite soldier in front of him. The three men who had previously surrounded him now lay crumpled on the ground. He reclaimed his sword and strode over to Blimah and Elimelech.

“Traitor!” Elimelech blurted into the floor, despite the foot on his neck.

Ehud grabbed Elimelech by the neck, smashed him against the cave wall and held the taller man up, his long feet dangling an inch above the ground.

“If you call me a traitor again, I shall be displeased,” Ehud said softly.

“I saw you side by side with Eglon. You can’t deny you’re his agent,” Elimelech rasped.

“I have never been his agent. It was Gheda who was his agent all this time. Always looking for trouble, always prodding for war. Think about it.” Ehud lowered Elimelech to the ground.

Elimelech massaged his neck and looked apprehensively at Blimah and Ehud.

“Then why do you march with Eglon?” Elimelech asked.

“Because God has decreed that he shall conquer the tribes of Israel.”

“God? Do you know God’s decrees? Has he spoken to you?”

“Yes.”

“Then you are mad and a traitor. God barely speaks with Pinhas in hints through his priestly breastplate, but now you know the mind of God?”

“Israel will be subjugated for its sins. The hand of Eglon shall lay on us for many years and it shall be harsh. Only when Israel cries out and remembers God, then we shall know salvation.”

“You are mad.”

“Believe what you want, but it shall come to pass. You will witness it and will not be able to stop it. Save your men, save your lives and repent. That is the only course left to us. Those who fight Eglon shall die.”

“I would rather die free than live in thralldom.”

“You are free to make that choice, but shall you make it for the rest of Israel? Shall you doom them all to death that God Himself did not decree? We have brought enough death upon Israel. You have lost most of your tribe, almost as much as I have. Would you see a tribe perish in Israel, or will you remove the stubbornness from your heart and finally accept God’s will.”

“I do not recognize that you speak for God. You are supporting the enemy by spouting this nonsense. If we unite and we stand in front of this invader we may yet turn him back. Does God truly wish for his children to be invaded and enslaved? Is this why he took us out of Egypt? Is this why he brought us into Canaan?”

“Our people have been fickle, disloyal to Him. They have embraced the idols and the Canaanite way of worship. God warned us about this. Read the Books of Moses. See the warnings. They are coming to pass. We shall retreat from this enemy. We shall know famine. Our children will be taken captives. Our God is a jealous God and we shall know his wrath.”

“Will you kill me?” Elimelech motioned at Ehud’s drawn sword.

“Only if you threaten me again.”

“Then kill me now, for I do not believe that you speak for God. You are a fantastic warrior and a brilliant strategist, but no more. And now you ride with Eglon. Kill me now, for the next opportunity I have, I shall surely kill you.”

“Then you leave me no choice.”

Ehud raised his sword, but with his other hand he punched Elimelech hard in the head. Elimelech slumped to the cavern floor, unconscious.

“Let’s get out of here,” Ehud said to Blimah.

“Wait a minute. I still need to relieve myself. Wait by the entrance and make sure those other guards don’t wake up.”

“Where are Ehud and Blimah, Boss?” Galkak asked Eglon as the two reunited with the troops they led on the Arava Road.

“They were right behind me,” Eglon looked behind him, as he panted and massaged his knees on his chariot. “Where can they be? Did the Israelites shoot them? Both of them? No. They must have slipped away. Dirthamus, can you sense their minds?”

“I’ve never been able to sense their minds,” Dirthamus answered. “Like Galkak, their minds are closed to me. I’ve noted it’s true with many of the Israelites. Though I did sense Elimelech. I sensed a blinding fury, but now his mind has gone quiet.”

“Ehud has left us then, at the first opportunity he had,” Eglon said.

“Should we search for ‘em?” Galkak asked.

“No. We can’t afford the distraction. We must reach Naaran before they are warned. For us to succeed in this campaign, speed is of the essence. Forward march!” Eglon commanded his army, pointing his sword westward.

The Moabite army marched at a quick pace up the road. They were relieved to be off the craggy mountain and making good progress on the well-trodden route. They looked warily to the right and left, in case of another ambush. Eglon kept sending scouts up the mountain to ensure that the way was clear.

One of the scout teams returned to Eglon.

“Naaran is beyond the next hill to the north,” the scout reported. “They have been warned. The gate to their city is closed and they have soldiers on the ramparts at attention.”

“Curse that Elimelech!” Eglon slammed the side of his chariot. “He must have gotten word to them. Now we need to do it the hard way. Galkak, take half the troops, go through the mountains and approach Naaran from the back. I will give you an hour. Then I will start the approach from the road. We will shoot a fire arrow high into the air. That will be your signal. That’s when we will start our attack. If there are as few defenders as we think, we will just have to outshoot them. Then we will move in with the ladders and the battering ram.” Eglon motioned to the supply chariots that carried the siege materials.

“Yes, Boss,” Galkak left and took his men.

Tralim of Benjamin stood with his arrow notched upon the ramparts of Naaran. Naaran controlled the road from the Jordan plain to the more populous mountain range. Tralim was a survivor of the civil war. He had fought in all three of the battles of Givaah and walked away unscathed. He considered himself more lucky than skillful. In the third battle he had narrowly missed Elimelech’s blade during his berserker rampage. He thought it ironic that it was Elimelech’s men who had warned them of Eglon’s impending attack.

He was more troubled by the other news they bore. That Ehud had betrayed all of Israel and rode beside the Moabite king. He had trouble believing that their fearless and intrepid commander was a traitor.

Tralim was amongst the few hundred Benjaminite survivors of the civil war. He had hid for four months with the remnant of his tribe in the Rock of Rimon. He had found a bride, Melil, at the summer dance of Shilo and together they had settled in depopulated Naaran. His wife was with child and Tralim was filled with hope. Though there were only a dozen families in Naaran, life was settling into a tranquil and domestic routine.

He had only been mildly troubled by the open worship of Baal by his neighbors. “The God of Moses has abandoned us,” they would say. “Why shouldn’t we pray to the local gods?” they asked. “We are now in Canaan, we should worship the gods of the land.”

Tralim noticed more and more of his neighbors wearing the small clay figurines of Baal around their necks. They still prayed to the Hebrew God, but they ended their prayers with a small prayer to Baal and signed their prayers with a quick kiss of the clay figurine.

It was only natural when his wife, Melil, gave him a clay figurine to wear. “Everyone is wearing one, Tralim,” she said as she lovingly tied it around his neck. “Some of the women started to tease me, that you were holy and stuck in the old ways. I told them you simply hadn’t given it much thought.” Which Tralim admitted was true, as he absently played with the clay idol on his neck.

Tralim never connected the idea of God’s wrath with the Moabite army marching upon his city.

He first saw them climbing the mountain. Hundreds of soldiers spread out and approached the city slowly over the hill that separated Naaran from the Arava Road. Then he saw the main force. An army over one thousand strong marched on the short path that connected the main road and his city.

There were only ten Benjaminite defenders in Naaran. Seven, including Tralim, stood on the southern wall facing Eglon’s army. The remaining three watched the eastern, northern and western sides, all within sight of each other around the small fortified city.

When Eglon’s army came within arrow’s reach, Tralim looked heavenward and said:

“God, be with us. And you too, Baal.” Tralim instinctively kissed the little statue at his neck. “Fire!” he ordered.

Five out of seven arrows hit their mark, felling Moabite soldiers.

Tralim noted Eglon smiling in his chariot and then nodding. A single fiery arrow sailed high into the blue desert sky. It was followed by hundreds of arrows, aimed at the defenders of the wall.

“Shields!” Tralim ordered. Three of his men fell to the onslaught of arrows. He heard the guard on the northern wall fall with an arrow from the other direction. He saw Eglon nod again. Five teams brought scaling ladders to the wall, as another team carried a heavy battering ram.

“Belya, Mishkor, get over here!” Tralim called to the men on the eastern and western ramparts as another volley of arrows darkened the bright sky.

Mishkor and another defender fell from the second volley. There were only five defenders left.

“I’ll focus on the battering ram,” Tralim said breathlessly, as he shot off more arrows into the sea of Moabites, “the rest of you make sure the ladders don’t stay on the wall.”

“How?” Belya asked.

“Shoot at the leaders. Push it away with your spears if it touches the wall.”

Tralim shot three of the battering ram carriers, but they were replaced in seconds.

Belya and the other defenders managed to delay two of the ladder teams, but three others got through. Two more defenders were shot. Belya managed to push one ladder off. A Moabite made it to the top of the wall. The third Israelite defender, out of arrows and having lost his spear, launched himself at the Moabite, bringing the ladder and the invading soldiers crashing down. He did not survive the fall.

A Moabite on the last ladder made it onto the ramparts. Belya unsheathed his sword and engaged the Moabite on the wall. More smiling Moabites stood behind him. A fresh volley of arrows killed Belya as well as the Moabite attackers.

Tralim ran out of arrows as the battering ram smashed into the gate of Naaran. The walls reverberated from the force of the impact. Tralim looked around to see Moabites overrunning the ramparts and all the other defenders dead. Tralim raised his spear and spotted Eglon approaching on his chariot. Tralim threw the spear at the large monarch with all his might. Dirthamus, riding next to Eglon, quickly raised his hand, causing Eglon to halt his chariot. The spear bounced harmlessly off of Eglon’s chariot.

Disgusted, Tralim ripped the idol from his neck and looked heavenward.

“All you gods are worthless,” he said as a barrage of arrows ended his previously lucky life. The small idol smashed on the ramparts of the defeated city.

“How many did we lose?” Eglon asked Galkak.

“Ninety-three during the ambush and forty-two from this attack, Boss,” Galkak answered.

“Burn it to the ground, with all inside,” Eglon commanded.

“You sure, Boss? This is a good location.”

“I need to send a message. Whoever resists will be completely destroyed. Whoever surrenders will be spared. Leave one survivor to spread the news.”

“Yes, Boss.” Galkak walked towards the captured survivors.

There were a dozen women of various ages and two elderly men, all huddled together by the opened gate of Naaran. Once the invaders had taken the ramparts, the battering ram had stopped and the army waited until the gate was opened from the inside.

How to pick who will live? Galkak thought. An old man perhaps, with wisdom and experience? A young woman, who can marry again and bear more children? That sick girl? Or perhaps someone stronger? God, why do you put me in these situations?

Galkak noted a young woman standing taller and straighter than the others. He approached her.

“What’s your name?” Galkak asked.

“Melil,” she answered, as she held her stomach protectively.

“You’re with child?”

“Yes, now orphaned from his father.”

“Come with me,” Galkak ordered and turned around. He spoke to the captain guarding the captives and whispered in his ear. The captain nodded his understanding and together with his men, herded the remaining captives further into the city.

“What is happening to the others?” Melil asked.

“They’ll be burnt alive with your city. You’ve been spared to watch this and to spread the word. The Moabites are here to conquer the land of Canaan and they are ruthless. If the Israelites resist, they will be destroyed. If they surrender they will be spared. It is that simple. Your job now is to save lives, so that we don’t have to do this too many times.”

They heard agonizing screams from within the city walls as dark smoke billowed into the clear sky.

“Music to the ears, isn’t it?” Eglon said as he approached on his chariot. “I think I enjoy the screams of Israelites. Very satisfying, wouldn’t you say?”

“You’re a monster,” Melil said.

“Yes, I am. Perhaps we should just kill her too, Galkak. There is great pleasure in instilling pain and death upon the stubborn Israelites. I’m not sure I wish for them to surrender. There is something to be said for doing things the hard way. We fought, we won. No tricks, no surrender. Superior overwhelming force against a disrupted divided enemy. Yes, perhaps I will kill this one also.” Eglon drew his sword and stepped off his chariot. “I feel the bloodlust within me, and it will not be satisfied until there are rivers of Hebrew blood.”

“I am ready to die,” Melil said.

“Brave, yes.” Eglon placed his sword at Melil’s neck. “That is the problem with you Israelites. Stubborn, brave, suspicious, ready to fight at the slightest instigation. You will be hard to conquer, but well worth it. Go. Go before I change my mind. Galkak, give her a horse and water and send her up the road ahead of us.”

“Yes, Boss.” Galkak ran and found a horse for Melil. He helped her mount the horse, showed her where the water skin was and sent her ahead with one warning:

“Whoever fights, dies – it’s that simple.”

“Where do we go now?” Blimah asked as they climbed down from the cave where Elimelech and his men lay unconscious.

“We should catch up with Eglon,” Ehud answered.

“I truly did not enjoy his company nor that of his army.”

“We have no choice. He’ll think we’ve betrayed him.”

“This is crazy, Ehud. All the tribes of Israel will think you’ve betrayed them if you continue riding with Eglon. There must be another way. I know. Send him a message that you’re going ahead to try to pacify the tribes. He’ll like that.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps it will be easier if we can move around freely without being chained to Eglon’s army.”

“Good. So where are we going?”

“To Bethlehem. I need to find Boaz.”

“Boaz of Judah? What for?”

“He is the only one who can stop me or Eglon.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Probably kill him.”

* * * * * *

5772, Book of Judges, Eglon, Ehud, Elimelech, Fiction, Joshua, Moses, Warrior Prophets

Warrior Prophets 2 – Chapter 14: Invasion of Canaan

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Warrior Prophets 2 Chapter 14

Invasion of Canaan

“My father told me of your history,” Eglon said from atop his chariot. “He told me how your Moses stood here, here on our plains of Moab, which we have now re-conquered. After forty years, after leading your people out of Egypt, Moses could see the land, almost touch it, but never to cross over, never to reach that promised land. How sad.”

Riding next to Eglon were Ehud and Blimah, the former on a brown stallion and the later on a tan mare. They moved across the plains of Moab with three thousand of Eglon’s troops, approaching the Jordan River. Galkak rode on his white mare on the other side of Eglon. Next to him was the covered wagon with Dirthamus inside. Zakir and Empress Neema remained at Rabbath Ammon.

“Yes,” Ehud answered. “It was Moses’ last wish, but was not fulfilled. Joshua brought us in and now you will undo all of his work.”

“Undo?” Eglon raised his eyebrow. “I will not undo the settlement of the tribes of Israel. I will merely rearrange the power structure. Your stiff-necked tribes will be more orderly, more compliant under a firm and unified rule.”

“As you wish,” Ehud answered.

“Yes. And now I wish to do what the great Moses himself could not.” Eglon removed his sword from his scabbard and was rewarded with silence from his troops. “To cross the Jordan!” He announced in his deep rumbling voice.

Three thousand swords flew out of their scabbards with a sharp metallic cascade. The men cheered as Eglon sped his chariot to the river crossing. Horses and men splashed in the softly flowing stream, low in the late summer.

“Hah! We did it!” Eglon shouted happily on the western bank of the river. “We have crossed the Jordan uncontested!”

Soldiers raised their swords into the air and patted each other on the back.

“What’s he so happy about?” Blimah whispered to Ehud. “There’s no one here to fight him. Of course he was going to cross it without a problem.”

“Hush,” Ehud whispered back. “It’s symbolic. The last army to cross the Jordan was Joshua’s and he went on to conquer over thirty small kingdoms of Canaan. The tribes of Israel destroyed entire peoples and regions. Eglon wants to conquer all of our lands now. He sees himself as outdoing both Moses and Joshua.”

“Where shall we go now, my dear advisor?” Eglon asked Ehud.

“The first target in our path is Gilgal, the old encampment of the Tribes of Israel,” Ehud answered.

“Will they fight?”

“Does it matter? There are only a handful of Benjaminites who live there now. Even if they do fight, you could overrun them quickly.”

“Gilgal is the only settlement on this plain?”

“Yes, our people prefer the mountains.”

“Then let us ride and remove the small thorn from this strategic location. Soldiers of the Empire!” Eglon raised his sword. “We march!”

Eglon’s army marched northward, parallel to the river, until they saw the simple stone and wooden houses of Gilgal. Once, hundreds of thousands of Israelite tents had filled the plain, but now only a few dozen houses stood, most of them vacant.

Half a dozen Benjaminites stood at the edge of the town watching the army approach. When they saw the soldiers of Eglon and realized they weren’t friendly, they disappeared into their homes, grabbed their families and possessions and fled northward, away from the approaching army.

“This will be easier than I thought!” Eglon chuckled. “Galkak, take a company of men and station them at Gilgal. We shall go on to our next target. Catch up with us when you can.”

“Yes, Boss.” Galkak motioned to a company commander and galloped ahead with him and his men to Gilgal. Eglon took the bulk of the army back south.

“What is our next stop, prophet-man?” Eglon asked.

“Naaran. It is on the Arava Road, due west. It leads to the tribes of Benjamin and Judah, the two that were most depleted by our civil war and, up until then, the strongest tribes. If those tribes should capitulate it will take the fight out of the others.”

“What is that rubble in the distance?” Eglon asked.

“The remains of Jericho,” Ehud answered.

“Jericho? How fantastic! We must see it,” Eglon drove his chariot towards the destroyed city. The entire army followed.

They reached a city of rubble. Stones of all sizes were strewn about the remains of a city, as if a juvenile giant had kicked over the walls and then played with stones, throwing them indiscriminately in all directions. A thin green moss grew under the shade of the larger stones.

“Why was it never rebuilt?” Eglon asked Ehud.

“Joshua commanded that we shouldn’t and cursed anyone who would. He stated that whoever rebuilds Jericho would live to bury his own children.”

“Still, the Israelites made a mistake in not rebuilding in the area. This plain commands the western bank and the mountain ascent. I shall build my new capital here. Well, not right here on the ruins. I don’t want to invoke any curses – I have a future dynasty to worry about. There,” Eglon pointed at a grove of palm trees south of the ruins of Jericho, “I shall build a city by those majestic palms. And from there I shall rule my empire.”

“Very pretty,” Ehud said tersely. Galkak returned, panting slightly.

“It shall be magnificent. Galkak,” Eglon called.

“Yeah, Boss?” Galkak said, still breathless.

“Find my architect and assign one hundred men to the labor. When we return from our conquest, I shall expect to see a city on this plain.”

“No problem, Boss. You want me to oversee this thing?”

“No, Galkak. I want your wily mind right next to me for the conquest. Despite Ehud’s assurances and assistance, I am certain his fellow Israelites will not submit easily. Dirthamus! Get out here. I want your opinion.”

The old sorcerer opened the flap of his covered wagon, shielding his eyes with his bony left hand.

“Yes, my liege,” Dirthamus rasped.

“What do you think of us building our new capital here?” Eglon asked.

Dirthamus closed his eyes and faced the ruins of Jericho. With his right hand he pointed at the rubble.

“I sense a strong power upon these ruins. It is a force we should be wary of. And there, at the edge of the ruins, it is strongest.”

“A part of the wall still stands!” Eglon said.

“It must be Rahab’s home in the wall,” Ehud said.

“Ah, yes, the traitor. I heard about her, and that she was quite beautiful. Is it true she married Joshua himself?” Eglon asked.

“Yes, they were very happy together,” Ehud answered.

“That reminds me. We must call for my Empress when our City of Palms is complete. Go on, Galkak. Fetch me the architect and let us commence planning the city before we proceed with our campaign.”

Galkak found the architect, a stocky middle-aged man with a shock of white bisecting his otherwise dark hair. He came with a long roll of papyrus, a thin reed brush and a small clay jar of ink. The architect and Eglon sat on the edge of the chariot. Eglon pointed and waved his hands and built palaces in the air as the architect furiously drew on his papyrus. Galkak ordered the troops to rest and refill their water skins from the Jordan.

Satisfied with the architect’s sketches, Eglon called the troops back to order.

“Up the Arava Road and to Naaran!” he commanded.

The army marched into the narrow ravine that climbed up the mountain. The soldiers were able to ride up to ten abreast or twenty soldiers walking side by side. Eglon rode in front, pleased with himself by the successful morning.

Craggy barren mountains guided them on either side as the army marched up the road.

“I don’t like it, Boss,” Galkak rode his mare in front of Eglon’s chariot to face him. “This is the perfect setup for…” an arrow in Galkak’s shoulder interrupted his sentence.

“Ambush!” Eglon yelled. He looked in horror at the arrow that would have hit him as Galkak fell from his horse. “Shields up!”

Thousands of shields went up as a rain of arrows fell on Eglon’s army. Arrows clanged and thumped into the shields.

Ehud got off his horse and dragged Blimah down as well. They crouched below the cover of their horses. The first volley of arrows from the mountains ceased. Dozens of Eglon’s soldiers lay dead or wounded, but the majority was unscathed.

“Archers!” Eglon yelled. “Return fire!”

Ehud and Blimah crawled to the fallen Galkak.

“Galkak!” Ehud turned the fallen king gently, careful not to move the protruding arrow.

“I’m okay. Not fatal,” Galkak murmured. “Just get it out of me. It hurts like hell.”

Ehud looked at the arrow in Galkak’s shoulder.

“You’re lucky,” Ehud determined. “It hit high and wedged against the bone. Hold on.”

Ehud pulled on the arrow and it slid easily out of Galkak’s shoulder. The shoulder started to bleed profusely.

“Quick, Blimah. Get me something to bandage the wound.” Ehud pressed his palm firmly on Galkak’s shoulder.

“Dirthamus has supplies in his wagon,” Galkak added.

Blimah ran to Dirthamus’ wagon and opened the flap. She saw Dirthamus on the floor of the wagon in a fetal position, his eyes closed tightly in concentration. He opened them when Blimah climbed into the wagon.

“Get out, woman!” he hissed.

“I need bandages. Galkak is injured.”

Dirthamus pointed at a corner of the wagon and closed his eyes again. Blimah grabbed a roll of cloth, a knife and left the wagon quickly. She ran back to Ehud and Galkak.

“Wine,” Galkak moaned. “Please, ol’ buddy. A little wine.”

“If I let go of your shoulder, you’ll bleed to death, you fool,” Ehud said. “Hold still for a few moments while we bandage you and then you can have your drink.”

Blimah expertly bandaged Galkak’s shoulder. When he was well-wrapped, Ehud searched for Galkak’s wine skin on his horse. He returned smiling and carrying an empty skin with an arrow through it.

“I think God may be trying to send you a message,” Ehud suggested.

“Nonsense. God never interferes with a man’s drinkin’ – that would be immoral! Check under my pack. There should be another skin there.”

Ehud found the skin and raised it victoriously.

“Shields up!” Eglon yelled as another volley of arrows rained down upon them from the mountains. An arrow pierced the new skin.

“No!” Galkak cried. “Quick, bring it here!”

Ehud ran to the prone Galkak and gave him the leaking skin. Galkak unstopped the skin and raised it to his mouth. Just a few drops fell on his face.

“Cruel, cruel!” Galkak sobbed.

“We’re getting killed here and all you can think about is your drink?” Blimah asked incredulously.

“I take my drinkin’ seriously. Ehud, there should be a third skin under the harness. Please get it for me.”

“Let’s wait for this volley to subside.”

Another dozen soldiers had fallen to the onslaught of the mountain arrows.

“Dirthamus!” Eglon called. “Get out here! What’s going on? Who’s attacking us?”

Dirthamus scurried out of his tent and ran to the side of Eglon’s chariot where he stood with a large copper shield over his head.

“It is Israelites,” Dirthamus said. “Judeans, to be specific. One of them is known to us – Prince Elimelech.”

“Elimelech! I thought we had crushed and dishonored him. How is he here?”

“He never gave up,” Dirthamus answered, “but was only able to convince a few dozen of his brothers of our impending attack.”

“That seems to be enough. Our arrows can’t reach them and they can attack us with impunity. Galkak, how are you? You took an arrow meant for me. I shall never forget that. Can you move?”

“Yeah, Boss. But I need a drink really badly.”

“Here,” Eglon grabbed a skin from his chariot and threw it at Galkak. Galkak caught it with his good arm, unstopped it and drank thirstily. He emptied the skin and burped loudly.

“Ahh, much better,” Galkak sighed. “I can take on a whole army now. What are we goin’ to do?”

“We have to get off this road and take the fight to them. Galkak, you take half our men and climb the mountain to the right. I’ll take the rest to the left. I’ll meet you back on the road when we’re done. Ehud, you come with me. Dirthamus, accompany Galkak. Go!”

The army split into two and proceeded to climb the mountains on either side of the road. The Israelites continued to fire upon the invaders, but to less effect. The arrows stopped and Eglon’s troops spotted Israelite soldiers climbing away.

“They may have laid traps,” Eglon warned his men. “Proceed carefully.”

It was slow and arduous work for thousands of men to climb the rocky uneven terrain. They passed a series of dark caves. One of the Moabite captains approached Eglon.

“Should we check the caves, your Majesty?” the captain asked.

“No, it would be a distraction. We have routed them. Let us return to the road, but keep a scout force upon these mountains ahead of us. Captain, you lead the scouts. I will take the main force back to the road. I’d love to get my hands on that Elimelech. I would not have him walk away the victor of this fracas.”

“It does not matter,” Ehud said. “You have the overwhelming force and there is little he can do to stop you.”

“Nonetheless, he has a strong spirit. I do not want him to rally the tribes together. He has irrefutable proof of our intentions now. We must proceed quickly with our conquest. Let us get off this mountain.”

Ehud together with Blimah followed Eglon and the soldiers down the mountain.

“Ehud,” Blimah whispered.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“I need to relieve myself.”

“What? Can’t you wait?”

“I’ve been waiting since we crossed the Jordan. I haven’t had a chance since then. I’m not like you men who relieve themselves wherever you want. I need some privacy and there hasn’t been any, surrounded here by three thousand men. I can go into one of the caves here. Let’s find one and you guard the entrance.”

Ehud and Blimah fell back from Eglon, struggling down the mountain.

They noticed a dark opening above them, partially shielded by some shrubbery.

“Will that do?” Ehud pointed at the cave entrance.

“Yes. Let’s go.”

Ehud and Blimah moved away, unnoticed by the mass of troops negotiating the treacherous descent back to the road.

“Make it quick,” Ehud said as they reached the cave entrance. Blimah gave him a stern look and entered the cave. Ehud stood with his back to the cave and watched Eglon’s army reassemble on the road below.

“Ehud,” Blimah called him from inside the cave.

“What’s the matter now?” he asked.

There was no answer.

Ehud unsheathed his sword and entered the dark cavern. He was grabbed roughly from either side, punched in the face and his sword taken. In the dim light he could make out the reflection of a knife held against Blimah’s pale throat and the wild eyes of the knife’s owner, Elimelech.

“Now you die, traitor!” Elimelech whispered.

* * * * * *