Other men loyal to Jasher lunged forward in an attempt to stop Izri and his soldiers, but only Izri and the two Gideonites next to him had armed themselves. The three of them screamed an unintelligible threat and rushed forward, trying to fight their way to the general. Somehow Izri broke through.
Just as Izri planted the tip of his sword in the general’s side, Izri’s head was lopped off in the wide swath of a sword held by a nearby Danielite. The other two men were killed before they reached the general. Fifty Gideonites, led by Captain Mehida, surrounded Izri’s remaining men, demanding that they surrender.
Jasher fell to the ground in agony. Pekah and Eli both knelt at his side, fumbling with a tourniquet around the wounded leg, while another soldier ripped green and white cloth from a banner. Yet another soldier pressed cloth strips against the deep wound in the gasping general’s left side. Jasher tried to sit up, but several soldiers kept him down.
Jonathan stood near Amon and Tavor, searching the faces of every man nearby, intent on detecting any other imminent attacks. He still held his sword high in the air, ready to strike any foe. Many of the men around him stared up at his hand, their expressions confused. Tavor nudged him and pointed to the blade. Jonathan’s heart skipped a beat when he realized the Gideonite soldiers had now seen the Sword of Daniel. Too late now, he thought.
He whispered his thanks to Tavor, then stooped to the ground, removed the bow and quiver from his back, and retrieved the piece of lamb’s wool from the belt pouch that held his small glow-stone. After vigorously rubbing the entire blade for a minute, he did the same to the small stone, jammed it into the pommel, tucked away the wool, and snatched up his items.
Jonathan lifted the blade skyward. A pale blue glow that continued to brighten gently rested on the scene. In the near dark, the light of the large glow-stone sword was of great benefit to those who worked feverishly to save Jasher’s life. Within moments, the sword nearly blazed like the suns. Jonathan ignored the few Gideonites who gaped at it.
Amon barked orders to the troops. Runners were sent with all speed to the main body of Jasher’s army, secreted around the bend of the road. Other soldiers prepared a stretcher, on which the general was laid. Several of the captured Gideonites shared information about their camp and directed Captain Mehida to Izri’s tent. There, Mehida’s men found bedding, unlit torches, and some glow-stone lanterns. They lit up torches and charged lanterns, then passed them down a line so the pathway to the tent was easier to see.
Jonathan, Pekah, and Eli followed the litter bearers, encouraging Jasher to stay awake and talk to them. They arrived at the tent to find the inside fully ablaze from the many lanterns and torches held by the soldiers. Several men carefully transferred the general from the stretcher to the more comfortable bedding at the center of the tent.
“I am trained in healing,” a soldier hollered, pushing his way through the crowd.
The healer arrived at Jasher’s side, paused briefly, then checked the wounds.
Looking on, Jonathan could see that Jasher’s skin was pale as moons-light. His breathing strained, he drifted in and out of consciousness. His body trembled intermittently from shock.
The healer placed a few nearby blankets over Jasher to keep him warm. Only the general’s right leg and left side remained uncovered so the wounds could be treated. Jasher still bled through his temporary bandages, and those attending his wounds could barely keep up with making more cloth strips. The healer ordered the assisting soldiers to apply more pressure, then searched the crowd.
“Where is Captain Amon?” he asked.
Amon stepped up from the back and identified himself.
“My name is Serug. I need to speak to you alone.”
Amon barked orders that the tent was to be cleared except for those attending the general or holding lights. Jonathan paused and wondered if the captain meant for him to leave with the others. He caught Amon’s gaze, and the captain motioned for him to stay.
Jasher’s weak voice was heard, but not understood right away. Amon went to his side, and Jasher repeated his request.
“I want to speak… with Pekah. His companions should stay. Where… is Abigail?” The wheezing general coughed, and Serug wiped blood from his lips, then called for a small sip of water to be provided for Jasher’s comfort.
Abigail burst into the tent with an escort. She rushed to Jasher’s side and shook her head, saying, “No, no, no, no!” Tears poured down her cheeks as she took Jasher’s right hand in hers.
Managing a smile, Jasher gazed lovingly upon his distraught wife. His shoulders shook with another cough. Turning white, he winced. His eyes fluttered shut, but then opened wide.
“Amon?” Jasher called out.
Amon leaned down. “Yes, sir?”
“I did not know it… before tonight…” he paused to cough, then continued. “Sodi… part of Rezon’s covenant. Izri, too.” The general coughed again, but it was shallow and labored. “There may be others. Find them.”
“We will. I promise,” Amon replied.
“Pekah?”
Pekah moved up to where Jasher lay. “Yes, General?”
“Amon… is my most loyal friend. I can always…”
Jasher shook. The veil of death seemed to be drawing over him. But once again, he became very alert.
“I trust him like none other. But he is married and can’t help me. You are not. I trust you.”
Pekah didn’t seem to have any idea what the general was trying to say. He looked quizzically at Amon, at Eli, and then at Tavor who were all nearby, but they could not explain. Pekah cast his questioning gaze toward Jonathan. All Jonathan could do was shake his head and shrug.
With great effort, Jasher tried to lift his head to see Abigail. A soldier rolled a spare blanket and placed it behind the general’s neck.
Tears welled up in Jasher’s eyes. “My only love… my dear Abigail.”
Abigail nearly sobbed. She clung to his shoulder.
“Pekah, give me your hand,” Jasher choked out.
Pekah slowly brought his hand near that of the general. Jasher reached for it and drew Pekah closer. The general then placed Abigail’s palm in Pekah’s. At first, Pekah recoiled, but Jasher’s grip tightened. Pekah relaxed. He did not move, and neither did Abigail.
“Abigail. Marry this man. He is good. He will care for you as I would.”
Jasher coughed again, and his eyes began to close. Abigail wept openly now, and she started to pull away from Pekah, but Jasher’s eyes opened. He squeezed her hand into Pekah’s again.
“I love you… my dear, sweet Abigail.”
With that final declaration, Jasher’s breath sighed out of him.
Abigail fell forward, burying her face in Jasher’s arm. There she stayed for many minutes, grieving. With Pekah’s hand released, he stepped back, looking bewildered. Jonathan sheathed his sword and stepped forward to grasp the Gideonite’s shoulder, giving him support. Pekah stared at the dead general and hardly seemed to notice.
Jonathan let go. Abigail sobbed into her husband’s neck, her frail frame shaking uncontrollably. Jonathan’s chest tightened, the sorrowful scene causing him to gulp as he fought away tears. He turned back to his Gideonite friend and saw that the young soldier appeared to be overcome with emotion, his head low.
Pekah wept.
Chapter 27
The smell of freshly turned soil filled Abigail’s nostrils as she stood at the gravesite, clinging to Rachel’s arm for support. Everything around her appeared drab, washed out by the moons-light falling from above. The scrapes and thumps of a shovel endlessly throwing dirt into a hillside depression that was now nearly full, and the chirp of a single cricket hiding somewhere in the trees nearby, were the only sounds disturbing the night air. Standing on the gentle rise where Jasher’s body had been laid to rest, Abigail was forlorn, affected by every detail of the dismal place.