At first, the man did not approach. But all those who had passed through the line previously were now armed, and Amon’s entourage stood there with swords glinting in the morning suns-light. After a short hesitation, the soldier cleared his throat and stepped up to Amon, pride in his countenance.
Amon held the man’s palm open, and Pekah could see marks on the soldier’s hand. The scars overlapped, causing a wide, white, jagged trail across his palm, evidence that he had been part of Rezon’s covenant for quite some time. A hush came over the entire company.
“Please stand over here,” Amon ordered with a gesture.
The man complied, and the remaining soldiers were checked. To the surprise of all, one additional soldier with dark, wavy hair presented a scarred palm. Amon made the two of them stand together. They seemed to recognize each other, but Amon did not ask their names.
Pekah watched the general with interest. Amon stood in silence, grinding his teeth and breathing hard. The expression on his face reminded Pekah of the pain caused by betrayal. When Amon spoke again, his voice was harsh.
“Where did you get these scars?”
Neither of the men answered.
“Your presence here has endangered the safety and peace of all around you. A very good man died last evening because of the wicked acts of your associates. The Brothers have banded together to end this war. You cannot stop it. I suspect that your leader, General Rezon, will not wish to join us. Do you agree? ”
Both men again refused to answer. Each man’s gaze was intently focused on the toes of his own boots.
With a deep, almost mournful sigh, Amon said, “You will forfeit your lives for the covenant you have made. That is what you swear, is it not? You swear by your throats? Well, that time has now come.”
Four captains stepped up at the order of the general to bind the hands of the two men. Amon’s entire contingent then marched the traitors through the home-lined streets north of the Council Hall, out of Hasor through the north gates, and around the village to the western side, not far from Izri’s former camp. Rezon’s men were placed up against the village wall. The rising suns shone brightly upon their faces.
“Bowmen at the ready!” Amon ordered. “Take your aim! Fire!”
Both of the traitors fell with three arrows each.
Amon shook his head. He directed the captains to have the men buried.
Pekah studied the crumpled bodies before him. What a waste, he thought. If they had only spent some time among the Danielites, maybe they wouldn’t have listened to Rezon’s lies. Instead, they would have seen that Jonathan’s father had no intention of attacking Gideon. Pekah sighed, suddenly very grateful he never had been given the opportunity to join with this group of wicked men who had pledged their lives to Rezon’s service.
“We ride within the hour!” Amon thundered.
Chapter 29
As the company dispersed in order to prepare for their departure, Jonathan, Eli, and Pekah stayed behind with those digging the graves for the executed men. Jonathan watched in silence for a few minutes before asking Eli and Pekah to come with him. “Before we leave for Ramathaim, I want to visit the gardens of Hasor.”
A lump in his throat, Jonathan squared his shoulders and started around the village wall in the direction of the gardens. The smooth flagstone path hugging the wall made their way easy. Rounding the southwest corner of the stone wall, Jonathan could now see the olive groves, vineyards, and vegetable gardens nestled between the guard towers.
He glanced up at the southwest tower platform above him as they entered the gardens, remembering his escape in the dark. It seemed like a long time ago. His boots now clicking on the cobblestone path, he fought to control his emotions. When the olive grove came into view, he looked at Eli. Eli’s nod confirmed the place. Walking the rest of the way into the grove, Jonathan left the path and passed trees with numerous grafts, many of their branches looking like the tail of a porcupine. Ducking under one limb as he went, he touched the coarse bark as he passed, remembering that he had worked with his father on that very tree the previous fall.
Avoiding another branch, Jonathan noticed that Eli and Pekah were no longer behind him.
He did not need to be led to the burial site of his father, a spot intimately familiar to him. This had been his and Samuel’s favorite olive tree-tall, full, grand. No other tree in the garden was as impressive. Although olive trees were somewhat rare for this part of Gan, trade winds from the East Ocean blew sufficiently inland to moderate the climate around Hasor. This transplanted tree had prospered. With nearly perfect symmetry, it looked more like an aging oak displaced from the nearby forests than an olive tree.
As Jonathan drew near to the east side of its massive trunk, he found the mound of backfill from a recently dug grave several paces away. He removed his sword, bow, and quiver, and then knelt at the edge of the mound. Fists resting on the ground, he poured out his soul in prayer. At first he could only think of the scene within the Council Hall-the glow of his sword, the vandalized book shelves and debris piles, and his father clothed in blood-stained robes. But with everything that had changed in the past few days, his thoughts refocused on the miraculous turn of events since he had met Pekah.
Instead of pleading for comfort, he gave thanks. He reviewed each of the miracles he had witnessed, and conversed with his God and King as if He were there beside him. As he did so, he realized that being driven from Hasor had been a great blessing. His father’s sacrifice had been turned to good. As he prayed, he felt certain that Samuel was a guiding participant in all of it.
Unaware of how much time had passed, Jonathan once again became cognizant of his surroundings. He wiped tears from his cheeks with the back of his hand and then ran his fingers through the soft dirt, churning the soil in his hands before dropping it and retrieving more. He looked for Eli and Pekah, but they still held back to give him some privacy. They were silent.
Jonathan patted the dirt firm, then grabbed his belongings and turned to rejoin his friends. His eyes were bleary, but surprisingly, he found the strength to put a smile on his face.
“Are you going to be all right?” Eli asked.
Jonathan thought for a moment, and nodded. “Yes. I’m fine. Do you mind if we go into the Council Hall for a few minutes before joining Amon in the courtyard?”
“We have enough time,” Eli said. “But why?”
“You shall see.”
They left the gardens to enter the village by way of the south gates, broken down by the invading army of Gideon just days before. Following the cobbled roads that led to the temple and Council Hall, the three men passed the barn where Jonathan had hidden during the siege. Arriving at the Council Hall, they found that Amon was nearly ready to depart. Jonathan hurried them inside and shut the door.
Jonathan drew in his breath at the sight before him. He had expected the same mess of torn books, overturned tables, spilled candles, and broken furniture that he had left the night of his escape, but the room was now tidy and clean. A few pieces of furniture were missing, namely several of the chairs from around the Council Table, but everything else seemed to be in its proper place.
The table held a few damaged books, hand-inked pages previously torn from their bindings now stacked in neat piles next to the volumes. Other than those awaiting restoration, the books had been placed back on the shelves. Jonathan examined the floor where his father had lain between the judgment seat and the back door. Even the blood stains had been removed from the smooth stone. He wondered who had cleaned up the hall.
Walking over to the books on the northern wall, he saw they were all correctly filed. “Someone from Daniel placed these in their proper locations,” he observed. He looked around the room again and remembered his purpose for coming.