She trembled with each vibration of the ground as the gravesite grew before her- becoming a haunting mound of dark memories. Her head throbbing from the incessant pounding of the thrown dirt, she tried to watch the soldiers who wielded the tools, but found it nearly impossible to make out their faces. At last the grave was filled, and the soldiers rested, leaning on the shovels.
Fresh tears welled in her eyes and mixed with the reflections from the moons above. Her bleary vision prevented her from seeing anybody but those who stood closest to her-Rachel, Eli, Jonathan, Amon, Tavor, and Pekah. In every face, she recognized deep concern. She wiped her eyes with her sleeves, grateful for her friends’ silent support.
One by one, every person around the grave approached her, offering their sympathy. She listened to each of them, but remembered none of their words. After they had all come to her, they stood quietly nearby, waiting for her to say her goodbyes. With yearning for the husband she had lost, she fell to her knees and leaned into the mound, her hands clawing at the soil.
Abigail could feel Rachel kneeling by her, patting her back, rubbing her shoulder. The attention only made her sob harder. Her strength gone, she collapsed into the dirt. The men around her whispered, and she felt herself be lifted. Cradled in Eli’s arms, she looked up into his moist eyes. He only stared forward and carried her down the hill without a word.
Overwhelmed, Abigail buried her face in his shoulder.
Sitting on the back steps of the Council Hall, Abigail propped her chin up, an elbow on her knee. Her mind numb, she watched as the rising sister suns caused scattered clouds above the hills west of Hasor to blush. Nearby, one hundred and fifty of General Amon’s company stirred in the courtyards of Hasor, their tents pitched close to the hall. After getting some much-needed rest, Abigail felt better, but solemn. The first rays of daylight fell upon the ground in front of her. Rachel, who had shared her guest room on the upper floors of the palace, sat beside her, watching the breaking morning lights.
“You should eat something, Abigail,” Rachel kindly suggested, a hand on Abigail’s arm.
“I do feel better this morning. I think I will.”
Rachel appeared to be relieved. “That would be good. You’ll need strength today if you wish to ride with us.”
Abigail felt foggy, even exhausted. She recalled being carried into the village the night before. Although the bed in the palace had been comfortable, she remembered she had felt cold. She shook her head. “It seems like a dream, Rachel,” she muttered. She pulled her knees up to her chest and held them.
Rachel’s gaze fell, and she put a hand on Abigail’s crossed arms. She gave Abigail a squeeze, but said nothing.
Abigail appreciated the unspoken show of support. She yearned for Rachel’s friendship, and felt strength flow into her from Rachel’s touch. But the grief she felt was overwhelming. She sighed and stood up to look across the way toward beautiful stone houses, all in neat lines and close together. She could see that several of the homes had been re-inhabited, as smoke rose from their chimneys.
Bordering the first row of houses ran a chest-high stone fence, north to south, ending at the small village courtyard before the Council Hall. Soldiers dismantled tents in the court, while others packed everything up. Horses were also being readied. The noise of the scene intensified.
“Rachel…”
“Yes?” Rachel said, standing.
“Thank you for caring for me last night.”
“You are most welcome.”
“I must have cried myself to sleep.”
“You did.”
Abigail crossed her arms, warming herself from the morning chill. She wondered at the small group of soldiers before her.
“What happened to the rest of the army? There aren’t many here.”
“After you fell asleep, most of the army left. Captain Amon… I mean, General Amon, sent Captain Mehida north with the army.”
“General?” The word stung. A tear rolled down Abigail’s cheek.
“Yes. By the voice of all captains present, Amon was made General of the Host of Gideon.” Rachel hesitated. “They said it was done according to custom.”
Abigail wiped the tear away and sniffed. “Yes. That is the custom. It just surprised me. Jasher…” She didn’t finish.
“I know it hurts. I’m so sorry. If I could share the burden with you, I would.”
They embraced. Abigail felt the sincerity of her new friend’s words. Feeling horribly alone in a land far from home, Rachel’s kind words calmed her fears. I don’t know what I would do without Rachel here, she thought. Pulling away, Abigail thanked her.
“Abigail, I should also tell you… well, I don’t want you to be surprised later. Jonathan and Eli were asked to be General Amon’s special advisors. Tavor was made a captain to take Eli’s place, and Mehida now occupies Amon’s former position. They also made Pekah a captain of fifty.”
Abigail turned away. Somehow the news about Pekah’s promotion didn’t bother her, but she wanted to be upset about it. Bewildered by her husband’s last request, she searched her soul for anger toward Pekah, for disgust-anything to justify not heeding Jasher’s dying wish. She tried to understand his motivation, hoping to find some reason to reject his desire. All she found was love. Jasher loved her. She cried.
Rachel patted her on the back. “Abigail, will you come with me?” Rachel asked with a gentle hand on her shoulder.
Abigail wiped her eyes, then pulled her straight black hair behind her ears. A lump still in her throat, she only nodded. Rachel led the way.
Previously, they had come out of the western door and hallway that connected the Council Hall to the palace. Rachel explained that this time she wanted to go back into the palace by way of the eastern door so she could show Abigail the Temple of Hasor.
They followed the graceful curve of a flagstone path winding between mature oak trees on the south side of the hall. As they rounded the south-east corner of the edifice, the Temple of Hasor loomed before them. The sight of the white granite walls and the tall central spire filled with glow-stone windows nearly took Abigail’s breath away.
“It’s almost identical to the Temple of Sacrifice in Ramathaim-smaller, but just as beautiful,” Rachel explained.
“It is magnificent,” Abigail said, admiring the spire.
Rachel touched her arm. She saw Jonathan, Pekah, and Eli walking toward them from the temple. Jonathan found his way to Rachel and fell to one knee as he kissed the hand of his betrothed.
“You rested well, I hope?”
“Yes, thank you,” Rachel replied, watching Abigail.
Unprepared to face the man she had been told to marry, Abigail awkwardly avoided Pekah’s eyes. Both Jonathan and Eli greeted her warmly.
“Peace and comfort to you, Lady Abigail,” Jonathan said.
“And rest from your sorrows,” Eli added.
“And to you-and thank you, Eli. I am very grateful,” she said, her voice muted. She studied the boots of the men. They were scuffed and worn. Feeling Pekah’s gaze, she forced herself to look up. He looked at her steadily, his face calm.
“We were in the temple before dawn this morning,” Pekah said. “I prayed that you would feel the love of the Holy One in your broken heart, that it might be made whole, and that you would be comforted. I’m sorry for your loss.”
Touched by the evident emotion in his voice, Abigail believed he was sincere. She bowed her head, but could not find the words to respond. Her husband’s request of the night before, for her to “marry this good man,” again played out in her mind, leaving her speechless. She did not know Pekah. Although probably her age, he seemed younger, a stark contrast to Jasher, who was older, wiser.