Assassins
T he next day Jonathan awoke to the warm glow of both suns and heard the enthusiastic chirping of birds in the trees all around him. They had camped in the Geber Pass, their tents filling every level spot next to the road that hugged the Saron River, winding between craggy cliffs and sheer rock faces. Gurgling from the swift water echoed against the nearby rock walls on the east, while the clangs, scrapes, and voices typical to any breakfast scene for several hundred soldiers bounced through crevices and cracks on the west.
Jasher’s company, led by Amon, had been joined by three other captains of fifty during the previous day, and the smoke from fires belonging to two thousand others was strung out as far as they could see toward the valleys and mountains of Ain-the city itself no longer visible in the distance. Most of the men in Amon’s camp had eaten and darted about in preparation to march once again.
Jonathan stood with Eli, Pekah, and Tavor, all dressed in Gideonite armor. A breastplate large enough for Eli had been found and brought to the camp during the previous evening’s meal. He wore it proudly.
Searching for either Captain Amon or the general, Jonathan spied Jasher apart from the camp, talking to Abigail. Eager to get Jasher’s opinion about leaving right away, he motioned to the others, and they started walking. As they approached the couple, Jonathan realized they were whispering. He held back, not wishing to interrupt any conversation intended to be private, but Jasher noticed them and waved them over.
“Good morning, Lady Abigail and General Jasher,” Jonathan greeted.
Abigail smiled and bowed. The general stepped forward and gripped the heir of Daniel by the hand.
“What a beautiful morning it is!” Jasher exclaimed.
“I don’t mind a little rain, but it certainly is nice to see the suns again after a day of total gray. Far better for travel, too.”
“With weather like this…” Eli said with a suspenseful long pause and a yawning stretch, “I am going to need another breakfast.”
“You would eat three, if offered,” Tavor chided with a wink.
Eli appeared shocked at the accusation, and then sheepishly shrugged his shoulders in a most exaggerated manner, causing his bright red beard to bunch up.
They were interrupted by the noise of horses riding fast from the north, and all turned to see who approached. Two Gideonite soldiers, both with wavy hair as black as night, rode up to the small group, pulling their mounts to a stop. The tallest one dismounted first and held both horses in place, but the shorter, stronger one jumped from his perch, heading straight for the general.
“General Jasher,” he declared, “I am Zev. Ilan and I have been sent by General Rezon to deliver an important message to the emperor. Where can I find him?”
Jasher studied them, but did not answer.
Something peculiar about these two, Jonathan thought, watching them closely.
“The emperor is not in our company,” Jasher finally replied. “Can we talk about this message privately? I can then take you to Manasseh, if need be.”
Ilan shot Zev a troubled glance, but did not speak. Zev straightened and, with a wry smile, said, “Yes, sir. Would you like to walk for a minute?”
Jasher consented and motioned for the rest of the group to remain as he joined the two riders. Zev and Ilan led their horses by the reins, and the three of them went a short distance in the direction from which the two soldiers had just come.
Zev whispered. From where he stood, Jonathan couldn’t hear a word of their conversation. Meanwhile, Ilan frequently peeked over his shoulder, his expression puzzled. On his third glance back, his countenance changed to fear.
“Did you see that?” Tavor said in a low voice.
“Yes. The Gideonite just realized that Jasher travels with Daniel and Uzzah,” Eli replied.
Abigail stepped close to Jonathan, who stood next to Eli and Pekah. “Why are they each wearing a glove on the right hand?”
Pekah turned white as wool and grabbed Jonathan’s shoulder in alarm. “I’ve heard rumors of secret alliances within Gideon. They make pledges in blood, cutting their right hands.”
Abigail gasped. “Something’s wrong! They’re going to hurt Jasher!”
Jonathan’s jaw clenched. Pekah’s eyes lit up with fire as he yanked his sword from its sheath, the sound of scraping metal heard by Jasher and the two soldiers. They turned to see. Recognizing that their situation had become very precarious, the two soldiers backed away from the general, putting Jasher between themselves and the others. Jasher startled, arming himself in a second.
Zev’s reflexes were as quick as a cat. He was on his horse, spurring it northward, before anyone could move to stop him. Ilan too attempted to mount, but before he could get in the saddle, Eli threw a sizable rock and hit him in the back with such force, he was knocked to the ground. Jasher pounced, his sword tip pressed against Ilan’s neck.
Jonathan grabbed for an arrow from his quiver, but realized his unstrung bow was of no use. He drew his own sword and stepped next to Pekah for support as Zev disappeared behind a rising cloud of dust.
“What is your message for the emperor?” Jasher thundered, pressing his sword point harder against Ilan’s neck.
Ilan did not respond. He lay on his side, wincing. Jonathan and the others approached, weapons in hand. Jasher backed away as Ilan was encircled. Ilan’s gaze darted all around at the Gideonites, Danielites, and Uzzahites above him. He trembled in fear.
Before Ilan could be stopped, he whipped out his belt dagger, placed the tip against his chest, and rolled over on top of the blade, choking out a pain-filled yell. Jonathan leaped forward, trying to grab Ilan’s shoulders, but was too late-Ilan gasped for breath, then stilled. Frustrated, Jonathan dropped to a knee and flipped him over.
Abigail let out a soft scream and collapsed into a pile on the ground. Jasher ran to her, and Eli followed to help. The general lifted her sobbing frame into his arms, having some difficulty keeping her limp body from dropping again. The rest of the men gathered around, watching with great concern as Jasher consoled his wife.
After several minutes, Abigail was strong enough to stand on her own. She wiped the tears from her eyes onto the sleeves of her slim green dress.
“Are you hurt?” she asked, nearly sobbing out the words.
“I am fine, my love. I am fine.” Jasher rubbed her shoulders tenderly until she stopped shaking.
Abigail sniffed, then pulled her raven-black hair into a knot. She managed to give Jasher a thin smile.
His hand still on her shoulder, Jasher turned to address the men. “I didn’t see what happened before Pekah drew his sword. What made you all suspect something was wrong?”
With great admiration in his voice, Jonathan said, “Abigail noticed it. She asked why they were wearing a single glove.’”
Jasher squinted as if confused.
Pekah explained. “Her observation reminded me of a rumor I heard while serving under Captain Sachar-General Rezon has placed men under a blood oath to kill his enemies. They make the oath by cutting their right hands.”
Jasher’s eyes grew as large as apples. He looked at Jonathan, then at Pekah.
“They were going to kill you!” Abigail trembled, her body swaying.
Catching her, Jasher pulled his dear wife into his arms once again.