Category Archives: Mahlon

Warrior Prophets 2 Chapter 25 – Hidden Weapons

Warrior Prophets 2 Chapter 25

Hidden Weapons

Dirthamus hated everything. He hated the warm sun that blinded his sensitive eyes. He hated the merry chirping of birds that assaulted his ears. He hated the caress of the dry wind as he hobbled into the Israelite city of Aroer in the Tribe of Simeon.

I will kill that donkey, Dirthamus thought, and then its master. As soon as I get back.

The old wizard looked at the impoverished residents of Aroer. It had been the same in every Israelite city he had been forced to traverse: thin, hungry-looking people, tattered clothing, and stooped backs. Eighteen years of oppression have done its work. Dirthamus smiled, the Israelite anguish a small amelioration for his discomfort. But the children, he noticed, still had a bounce in their step, still contained an irrepressible energy he found highly offensive.

“Where is the home of Galkak?” Dirthamus stopped one boy with his walking stick.

“Galkak? Never heard of a Galkak.” The child ran off and the wizard sensed that the boy spoke the truth.

Dirthamus approached the busy city marketplace. Merchants sold scraps of food and material to residents who possessed just a few copper pieces. People seemed to congregate more for the company than for any commercial purpose. The wizard noted some barter, small eggs for dark bread, a worn shawl for some meager vegetables.

He approached a cabbage vendor, a man in his thirties.

“Where is the home of Galkak?” the wizard wheezed.

“Galkak?” The vendor scratched his stubby chin. “Name sounds familiar, I can’t say I know.” Dirthamus read the vendor’s mind and saw that he too spoke the truth.

I need to find older residents, the wizard thought. Galkak probably hasn’t been here for many years.

“Where is the home of Galkak?” Dirthamus grabbed a middle-aged man walking by, the wizard’s talon-like fingers clutching the man’s bicep.

“Who wants to know?” the man looked at Dirthamus through narrow eyes.

“I command you, in the name of Emperor Eglon, to tell me where the home of Galkak is!” the wizard raised his raspy voice.

“Galkak hasn’t been here in ages. He’s probably dead. Go look in the cemeteries, old crone.” The man loosened himself from Dirthamus’ grip and sped away.

Dirthamus read the man’s mind and was pleased to find he had lied. He was even more pleased to find the location of Galkak’s home in his mind.

The wizard limped excitedly to a modest stone house off the city center. He rapped his stick against the wooden door.

“Hold your horses,” an old female voice called from inside.

Moments later the door opened. A tiny woman with short white hair and glazed eyes stood in the doorway, peering sightlessly past the wizard.

“Where’s the fire?” she asked, leaning on her cane.

“Are you Galkak’s mother?” Dirthamus asked.

“Who wants to know?”

“An old friend.”

“You don’t sound like any of his old friends. What’s your name? Where are you from?”

“So you are his mother, and he is Israelite. When is the last time you saw him?”

“Now you listen here, young man. My Galkak never had such rude friends, who didn’t introduce themselves or answer my questions. His friends were Boaz and Amitai and Ehud and those other boys from the militia, brave souls all of them. You sound more like a scoundrel to me.”

“He was with the militia?” Dirthamus gasped. “Friends with Ehud? He is a deceiver of the highest order!”

“You’re no friend of his!” Galkak’s mother shouted and whacked him on the head with her cane.

“Stop!” Dirthamus cried. “I am the Emperor’s advisor. You shall suffer for this.”

The blind old woman whacked Dirthamus again. He tried moving but his yelping guided her aim. She whacked him again and again until he fell to the ground, a bloody, crying, crumpled man. She finally kicked Dirthamus in the face. He groaned and fainted.

“That’ll teach you to mess with my family,” Galkak’s mother spat, shuffled back into her house and slammed the door behind her.

Malia polished the stone god in the early morning. In her worn robes and with her long blonde hair covered tightly under her shawl, she scrubbed away at the idol. The idols were right outside the gates of Gilgal across from the great quarry. Major portions of the nearby mountain had been cut away systematically. It was first dug by the Canaanites, later by the Israelites and most recently by Israelite slaves under Moabite supervision. Malia spat into the rag and wiped away the dirt and grime that accumulated on the man-sized statues over the course of the month. It was her hateful task. The garrison commander of Gilgal had ordered her to clean the stone carvings once a month, every month on the day of the full moon. Gilgal, the only Israelite city on the Jordan plain, had once been the camp for all the tribes of Israel, when Joshua had conquered the land. From Gilgal they could see to the south the grand City of Palms, new capital of the Moabite Empire, though the Moabite ancestral lands lay even further south and east across the river.

She had finished polishing the third god and was about to start on the fourth and final god at the gates of their city, when she saw them. The princes of Israel. What a sorry lot, she thought. The dozen princes of Israel together with another dozen men and as many wagons. Every year they came through Gilgal, on their way to Eglon, bringing the symbolic Tribute. The princes looked sad, dejected, even fearful. Then she saw Ehud and was filled with hope. She saw the look of determination, of cunning on his face, and another look she had not seen on him in years past: murder.

“They shall be here shortly,” Eglon told Bagdon. “It is probably best that you not be here when the Princes arrive. Prince Avod is after all still your father. Perhaps just exchange pleasant greetings with him when you pass him, and tell him you are on an errand for me. You should be in place when they return through Gilgal.”

“Yes, my liege,” Bagdon responded. “This mission will be carried out most efficiently. I will take the best archers of the army with me.”

“Remember, Bagdon. I only want Ehud dead. And kill him in front of the gods of Gilgal. That will demonstrate to the Israelites the gods’ displeasure with him, and will encourage the Princes to follow our commands.”

“Agreed. Galkak is also scheduled to arrive today with the full complement of Amalekite and Ammonite forces. We shall deploy them throughout the valley tomorrow to prepare for the execution of the firstborns.”

“Excellent, my general, my son. Proceed.”

Galkak trotted ahead of the combined armies of Amalek and Ammon. He had convinced King Zakir of Ammon of Eglon’s duplicity and Zakir swore his soldiers to the command of Galkak. The Moabite forces still outnumbered them three to two but Galkak hoped for the element of surprise.

“Harpag,” Galkak called his general. “Bivouac our forces outside the City of Palms on the plain of the valley. I think this time we aren’t goin’ to accept the Moabite hospitality.”

“Understood.”

“Good. I’m goin’ ahead to meet the Tyrant and see how things stand. If for whatever reason I don’t make it back, you’re in charge. Wait until the Israelites arrive before you attack Eglon’s forces.”

“Good luck.”

“We’re gonna need it.” Galkak rode into the city. He reached the royal stables and was greeted by Mahlon.

“Today is the day, son of Elimelech,” Galkak addressed Mahlon as he dismounted. “Are you ready?”

“I’ve been talking to the horses. Most of them have agreed to help me.” Mahlon took the reins of the horse and stroked its neck.

“Excellent. That can make the difference between victory and defeat.”

“Galkak, I have something else to tell you. Shortly after you left, Dirthamus came looking for you and then demanded to go to the tribe of Simeon. He suspects you’re Israelite and went to confirm.”

“That’s bad. Has he returned?”

“No. I sent him with a special donkey.” He pointed at nearby Chamra who wagged her short tail at the attention. “She made sure he had a difficult journey.”

Galkak looked at the donkey with admiration and stroked her bristly hide. “Good thinking, Mahlon. Now I better get to the Tyrant before the Tribute arrives.”

Ehud, extra wary, was the first to spot the approaching Moabites upon the Jordan plain. The river bubbled untroubled by mortal cares to his left. Bagdon led two dozen soldiers on horseback.

“Greetings Princes. Greetings Father,” Bagdon declared when they met.

“Bagdon,” Prince Avod was the only one to answer.

“I apologize that I will not be present for the Tribute, but I am on a small but urgent assignment for the Emperor. I hope all is well.”

“You will not change your ways or allegiance?” Avod asked knowing the answer.

“Good day to you Father, Princes. It was lovely chancing upon you.” Bagdon replied and trotted off with his men.

“I am sorry for you, Avod,” Elimelech said softly.

“I wish it was my head Ehud had cut off all those years ago,” Avod sighed. “That I should live to see my own flesh and blood betray us…”

“There is nothing to be done now about Bagdon. He has chosen his side,” Ehud said. “I just hope we have enough people on our side when it comes to fighting and not a whole lot of fence-sitters.”

“Your plan is mad,” Elimelech said.

“If you will not help, then stay out of the way,” Ehud warned.

“And suffer the consequences of your failure? I told you before I am tired of fighting. I shall suffer whatever fate God has in store for me.”

“Enough, Elimelech. Your talking depresses me and I do not need my own brethren weakening me.”

“So we are still brothers?” Elimelech asked with some surprise.

“We have always been. It is you that forgot. I shed a tear for every brother I slayed. I argued against our fighting, but I do not wish to rehash old history. We are brothers. And that is what I fight for. If more of us remembered that, if more of us remembered our God and believed in him, victory would be assured.”

“I finally realize why we never got along,” Elimelech said. “You remind me of my father. He had so much faith. I could never understand it. I could never have as much faith. And you know what the danger is, Ehud? Most people don’t have that faith either. And then you find yourself alone. Ahead of the pack. Because no one is strong enough to follow you. My father, Nachshon, had a once in a lifetime event, where his faith showed the way, where he jumped into the sea and it split. I think it must have been a close thing and, even so, the age of miracles has passed. We are just shadows of our fathers.”

“Elimelech, go ride in the back and after we bring the Tribute go straight home. Do not talk to anyone. Let Naomi console your broken heart. Your presence will only serve our enemies.”

Elimelech let the other princes and their retinues pass him. He rode in the back silently, head bowed down.

They reached the City of Palms and the royal stables. Servants were ready for them and unloaded the wagons. Elimelech embraced Mahlon stiffly when he saw him. Mahlon gestured to Ehud to join them.

“Bagdon is laying an ambush for you,” Mahlon whispered.

“Where? Who? When?” Ehud asked urgently.

“I don’t know where, but they just want to kill you, Ehud, not the princes. It will be some time after you leave here.”

“Good work. How did you find out?” Ehud asked.

“The horses have big mouths,” Mahlon answered.

Ehud and the princes made their way to the audience chamber. Eglon was on his throne, as big and heavy as ever, wearing crisp white robes with necklaces, belts and armbands of gold. Empress Neema sat to his left in a regal gown of gold and silver thread. To her side sat Princess Ruth and Princess Orpah, similarly attired. To Eglon’s right sat Galkak, King of Amalek, looking fidgety, holding his hands under his legs and biting the inside of his cheek.

Ehud and the princes knelt in front of Eglon. Moabite servants brought the trays of Tribute and placed them on the floor in front of Eglon: fruits, vegetables, grains, wines, oils, skins, garments, tapestries, pottery, glassware, metalwork, the best of the assorted production of the tribes of Israel were given as a gift to the Moabite Emperor.

Eglon looked at the Tribute and smiled slightly.

“A bit better than last year,” Eglon commented. “The tapestry is a nice touch. Is that Judean, Elimelech?”

“Yes, your Majesty,” Elimelech answered, still kneeling.

“Very well, you may rise,” Eglon commanded. The princes rose slowly.

“Ehud, what is this I hear of growing discontent amongst the Israelites? Am I not a benevolent ruler, father to my people? Do I not feed them, protect them and look out for their every interest? I do not appreciate hearing such complaints.”

“I shall attempt to quiet any complaints against you,” Ehud said.

“That’s it? You do not take up their cause? You do not cry for mercy? What are you hiding Ehud?”

Ehud felt the cold metal of the short sword hidden under his robe on his right thigh.

“I hide nothing, your Majesty,” Ehud lied blatantly. “I have learned there is no use complaining. Your will is of iron and my people are as chaff to you. I shall remind them to be thankful for their lives and all that you provide them.”

“That is appropriate. Now princes,” Eglon said. “You know of the census that is to be conducted tomorrow. All of your firstborns are to come to the valley of the Jordan where we shall count them, every last one of them. It is vital for the smooth functioning of the Empire that we have an accurate accounting of each family from each tribe and each of their firstborns. We will know if a family does not send their firstborn and rest assured that the recalcitrant family will be killed in its entirety. I will not run the chance of a miscount and throw our Empire into turmoil.”

“Be at peace, Majesty,” Ehud raised his hands. “The firstborns are already on their way. Those from the further northern tribes left a week ago and some may even arrive to the valley today. I would suggest alerting your officers that great numbers of firstborns will be arriving in the valley this afternoon already and will probably wish to make camp so that they will be available for the census first thing tomorrow morning.”

“They are coming. That is good. That is good,” Eglon said. “Very well then.”

“Stop!” Dirthamus screamed as he burst into the audience chamber.

“Dirthamus? Where have you been?” Eglon asked. “You look terrible. How dare you come here like that? Go clean up your wounds, get some fresh clothing and come back when you’re more presentable.”

“No, my liege! There is no time! That man! That man is a fraud!” Dirthamus pointed a scrawny shaky finger at Galkak.

“Galkak?” Eglon asked.

“Excuse me, Boss,” Galkak stood up. “The old man is clearly not well. I’ll get him cleaned up and bring him back when he’s rational.”

“No! Don’t touch me you filthy Israelite! I know who you are! It’s all been a sham! All these years! Eglon! Don’t believe him. He’s allied with-”

“Let’s calm down now.” Galkak clamped Dirthamus’ mouth. “You don’t want to say anythin’ you may regret when you’re sober. I know the symptoms better than anyone. He’s clearly been drinkin’ too much. I’ll take care of him, Boss. Don’t worry. I’m too fond of this curmudgeon to see him suffer from the drink as I did.”

Dirthamus struggled and punched Galkak, but the stronger man held his mouth in an iron grip and escorted him forcefully out of the audience chamber. Once in the hallway, Galkak let go of the wizard’s mouth and bent the old man’s arm.

“One wrong word and I’ll break your arm and then your scrawny neck,” Galkak whispered.

“You are Israelite,” Dirthamus hissed.

“What else do you know?”

“You are of the tribe of Simeon from the city of Aroer. You were in the militia with Ehud. Your entire reign has been a sham and you will die.”

“All true, but let’s see if we can keep the matter quiet a little longer. Now what should we do with you? I know. Let’s go to the stables.”

“I am not without power,” Dirthamus said.

“It has no effect on me.”

“Perhaps, but I can still influence others.” Dirthamus closed his eyes, concentrated and murmured as Galkak walked him to the stables.

Soldiers in the palace courtyard looked at the Amalekite King and the old wizard. Several of the soldiers stood transfixed and walked slowly towards them, their hands in front of them awkwardly. They chanted something. More and more soldiers marched slowly towards the duo as Galkak forced Dirthamus to the stable. Three dozen soldiers approached Galkak with their arms outstretched and vacant stares. He finally understood what they were chanting: “Kill Galkak.”

“Mahlon!” Galkak called as he entered the stable. Mahlon ran to him.

“What’s the matter?” Mahlon asked.

“Dirthamus bewitched the soldiers to kill me. I need help!”

“Get on your horse. I’ll try to hold them off.”

“No. There are too many of them.”

“You will die, Israelite.” Dirthamus smiled through the pain of his bent arm.

Galkak let go of the wizards arm and drew his sword, facing the approaching soldiers.

“Wait!” Mahlon exclaimed. “He’s not the only one that can influence others.” Mahlon closed his eyes and focused on the horses in the stable. He gave them one command: Attack!

A dozen horses charged out of the stable, jumped ahead of Galkak and intercepted the Moabite soldiers. One horse knocked Dirthamus to the ground. Horses kicked at the soldiers, sending them flying. Soldiers ran in all directions, escaping the wild horses. Galkak fought the handful of soldiers that escaped the barrage of horses. Dirthamus, behind Galkak, drew a knife from out of his robe. He crawled towards Galkak. Suddenly a donkey stood in his way.

“You!” Dirthamus yelled, recognizing Chamrah. “Besides Galkak, there was nothing else I wanted to kill since you abandoned me.” Dirthamus raised the knife with all his might and stabbed at Chamrah’s exposed neck. Chamrah moved with surprising speed, kicking Dirthamus hard in the head. Dirthamus flew deep into the stables, landing roughly on a pile of hay, never to wake up again.

Dumb human, Chamrah thought as she saw the Moabite soldiers regain their senses and stop their attack on Galkak.

The princes turned to leave the audience chamber.

“Ehud, stay a moment longer,” Eglon requested.

Ehud stepped towards the throne, the metal of his sword feeling hot against his bare leg. I could do it now, Ehud thought, but it’s too early.

“Ehud you know that I’m fond of you. I liked you years before I became Emperor, when you were a simple blacksmith. I knew you had leadership potential and I knew that you would be instrumental in governing the Israelites. It’s a hard job, for they are truly a stiff-necked people, but you have done your task well. I think of you as my friend and I think that you see me the same way.”

“I have always admired certain qualities of yours.”

“Good, then you know that what I do, I do for the good of the Empire and all my subjects. I just wanted you to understand before, before we part.” Eglon looked down, somewhat abashed.

“I understand, more than you may appreciate. I have stood by your side all these years, supporting your efforts. I shall be at your side until the very end.”

“You’re a good man, Ehud. Farewell.”

“Farewell, your Majesty.” Ehud bowed and left the audience chamber.

Malia had noticed the Moabite soldiers’ arrival, and she had watched them tie their horses within the gates of Gilgal. One soldier pointed at Malia and said to his fellow soldier, “I don’t understand why these Israelite women cover their hair. Our women let it show. It’s much more beautiful.” They’ll never understand, Malia thought. These Moabites have no concept of modesty. An Israelite would understand.

The soldiers came back out of the city gates and stationed themselves within arrow-reach of the gods. They hid behind large stones and shrubs and wherever they could find cover from the road. Malia had finished cleaning and polishing the stone idols and was now applying a coating of oil. It gave the gods a nice shine and kept the dirt off a little bit longer.

Then she saw the princes returning from the City of Palms. They rode harder and faster than during their journey south, unburdened by the Tribute and eager to return to their homes. Malia saw the Moabite soldiers draw their arrows. It’s to be an ambush, she finally realized, and I’m exactly in the wrong spot. Should I warn them? They’ll kill me and what good would that do? But if I stay here I’ll also die. I know what.

Malia took her shawl off and loosened her long blond hair. The hair fell down her back. Malia turned her head from side to side, her hair waving like a flag. Ehud raised his hand in the distance and the princes stopped. Malia covered her hair and calmly walked into Gilgal.

The princes trotted slowly towards the idols of Gilgal in front of its gate, looking from side to side. Ehud turned back and galloped to the City of Palms.

“Ehud’s getting away!” Bagdon jumped out from behind a rock. “After him!” he commanded. The Moabite soldiers ran towards the gate of Gilgal to get their horses.

“Brothers,” Elimelech said calmly. “Let us buy Ehud some time. Block the gate.”

The princes and their retinue rode to the gate and with two dozen horses blocked the Moabites from entering.

“Stand aside!” Bagdon ordered the princes.

“Are these the manners of a son of Israel?” Elimelech asked.

“I have no time for discussion.” Bagdon drew his sword. “Move so we can reach our horses!”

“What is the rush? Can we not discuss this like civilized people?”

“Elimelech, I am warning you one last time. Get out of my way or I shall kill you.”

“Will you kill me too?” Avod asked his son and placed himself in front of Elimelech.

“If I must,” Bagdon responded.

“Then kill me now. To have a son willing to kill his own father in the name of Eglon is more than I can bear.”

“Father, let us be reasonable. I am merely following orders. Orders of the man you agreed and swore to serve. The man you gave me to, who raised me as his own son. I am to be married to his daughter, shortly. I am a man of great importance in the Empire and it is your sacrifice that has made it possible.”

“You are no son of mine.” Avod spat. “I curse the day you were born. God should have closed your mother’s womb that such an evil man should have come from my loins.”

Avod charged at Bagdon with nothing but a riding stick. Bagdon stabbed Avod as he approached. Avod fell off his horse, dead before he hit the gravelly ground.

“Your own father!” Elimelech yelled. The princes marched against Bagdon. The Moabite soldiers aimed their arrows at the princes, waiting for Bagdon’s command.

“Enough!” Bagdon pointed his sword at Elimelech. “Eglon does not want the princes dead, but I shall kill the next one that stands in my way. See, even my father cannot stop me. We shall enter the city. We shall retrieve our horses and follow that fugitive Ehud and if you stop me, the tribes of Israel shall become leaderless in one fell blow.”

Elimelech backed away from the gate as did the other princes. Bagdon and the Moabites entered Gilgal, retrieved their horses and rode out of the city.

“Will you not care for the burial of your father?” Elimelech asked.

“He was right, you know. I’m no longer his son,” Bagdon said without stopping as he went to fulfill his Emperor’s command.

Eglon had fallen asleep in the early afternoon on his throne, as usual. The Tribute had been removed to the storerooms, Neema and the girls were elsewhere in the palace and only two guards remained inside the audience chamber. They let Galkak in.

“Boss! Boss! Wake up! There’s been a terrible accident!” Galkak said.

“What? What happened?” Eglon stirred suddenly.

“It’s Dirthamus. I don’t know what happened. He must have gone crazy from the drink. I guess he couldn’t handle it. He ran into the stable and taunted the animals. He must have done something with his mind powers, because all the horses went crazy. One of them stomped him and he died from his injuries. I know how much he meant to you. I’m going to miss that old, twisted wizard.”

“That is indeed terrible. Dirthamus was a most valuable man. It will be hard to find a wizard of such power and experience.”

“Ehud of Benjamin is here seeking audience,” one of the guards announced.

“Ehud?” Eglon asked in confusion. “What is he doing here? Let him in. Let him in.”

Ehud entered breathlessly, his face red from exertion.

“Ehud, I did not expect to see you – so soon,” Eglon said.

“I have a matter of great secrecy to disclose to you,” Ehud said.

“Secrecy? Secrecy!? What secrecy?”

“A conspiracy against you.”

“A conspiracy?” Eglon looked at Galkak and then at the guards. “Everyone leave me. I will speak with Ehud alone.”

Galkak and the guards rushed out of the audience chamber.

“What is this conspiracy? Who is it? Is it Galkak? Bagdon?”

“Neither. God, our God, has spoken to me of you and has sent me to deliver a message to you.”

Eglon looked awe-stricken.

“Your God speaks through His prophet to me?”

“Yes.”

Eglon pushed his hands against the armrests of the throne. He slowly raised his massive weight off the marble chair. Finally, after moments of intense effort, Eglon stood at his full height.

“I shall stand to hear the word of your God,” Eglon said respectfully. “What does your God say?”

Ehud approached Eglon, his left hand under his robe.

“My God says that your reign is coming to an end. That you have overstepped your boundaries and have been excessively cruel to His children. For that you will die and His children released from your bondage.”

“That is not a pleasing message, Ehud.”

“I know, but nonetheless, it is my duty to deliver it.”

Ehud drew the sword from under his robe. With his right hand, Ehud clamped Eglon’s mouth shut. With his left hand, Ehud stabbed Eglon in the belly with all his might. The entire blade entered Eglon’s stomach and reached all the way to the spinal cord, killing Eglon instantly. Ehud needed all of his blacksmith’s strength to lower Eglon’s body back onto the throne. Ehud released the blade. Eglon’s fat covered the blade and even closed the incision. Except for a small tear of Eglon’s robe, there was no blood or sign of violence to the body. Ehud then noticed the smell of feces from Eglon. It happened to the dead at times.

Ehud calmly exited the audience chamber. The hallway was empty. Galkak must have drawn the guards away, Ehud thought, and silently thanked his battle partner. He locked the door to the chamber and made his way to the stable.

At the stable, he met an anxious-looking Mahlon.

“It is done,” Ehud announced.

“Now what?” Mahlon asked.

“When the fighting starts, you know what to do.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then all we need is for God to be with us.”

“I thought He was with us,” Mahlon said.

“We need to constantly earn it,” Ehud said as he rode to the city gate. He waited by the side of the gate, out of sight, until Bagdon and his soldiers galloped into the city. Then he rode north as fast as he could.

The two soldiers returned to the audience chamber and were surprised to find it locked. They smelled the odor from the chamber and it confirmed their suspicion. Eglon would often lock the chamber when he wished to relieve himself and would unlock it again when he was done. They waited the normal amount of time it took Eglon to relieve himself and then they waited some more.

“Something is not right,” one guard said.

“Maybe he’s having stomach problems,” the second guard answered. “It happens to him from time to time. That man will put anything in his mouth and then he wonders why his bowels hurt.”

“But this is much longer than ever,” the first guard said.

Bagdon came running down the hallway.

“I must see the Emperor, immediately!” Bagdon ordered.

“But he is relieving himself,” the second guard said.

“How long has he been locked up in there?” Bagdon asked.

“An uncommonly long time,” the first guard said.

“Any unpleasantness will be on my head. Open the door!” Bagdon commanded.

The guards opened the door and entered the chamber. Eglon had fallen to the floor and was obviously dead.

“Eglon! Father! Emperor! What happened?” Bagdon rushed to the fallen body, kneeling by its side.

“This is terrible!” the first guard exclaimed. “What shall we do? Who shall take over now?”

“How could this happen?” the second guard asked.

“Maybe he died from over-eating?” the first guard suggested.

“It must have been the weight that killed him,” the second guard said. “There are no marks on his body, no blood, nothing. He just died and fell. Now what?”

“I don’t know,” Bagdon said rising from atop his dead liege, “but I will fulfill his last commands. We have some Israelite firstborns to slay and an Empire to build.”

* * * * * *

Biblical Source: Book of Judges, Chapter 3

15 But when the children of Israel cried unto the Lord, the Lord raised them up a saviour, Ehud the son of Gera, the Benjamite, a man left-handed; and the children of Israel sent a present by him unto Eglon the king of Moab. 16 And Ehud made him a sword which had two edges, of a cubit length; and he girded it under his raiment upon his right thigh. 17 And he offered the present unto Eglon king of Moab–now Eglon was a very fat man. 18 And when he had made an end of offering the present, he sent away the people that bore the present. 19 But he himself turned back from the quarries that were by Gilgal, and said: ‘I have a secret errand unto thee, O king.’ And he said: ‘Keep silence.’ And all that stood by him went out from him. 20 And Ehud came unto him; and he was sitting by himself alone in his cool upper chamber. And Ehud said: ‘I have a message from God unto thee.’ And he arose out of his seat. 21 And Ehud put forth his left hand, and took the sword from his right thigh, and thrust it into his belly. 22 And the haft also went in after the blade; and the fat closed upon the blade, for he drew not the sword out of his belly; and it came out behind. 23 Then Ehud went forth into the porch, and shut the doors of the upper chamber upon him, and locked them. 24 Now when he was gone out, his servants came; and they saw, and, behold, the doors of the upper chamber were locked; and they said: ‘Surely he is covering his feet in the cabinet of the cool chamber.’ 25 And they tarried till they were ashamed; and, behold, he opened not the doors of the upper chamber; therefore they took the key, and opened them; and, behold, their lord was fallen down dead on the earth. 26 And Ehud escaped while they lingered, having passed beyond the quarries, and escaped unto Seirah.

Warrior Prophets 2 Chapter 24 – The Sword of Ehud

Warrior Prophets 2 Chapter 24

The Sword of Ehud

Young Lerim jumped off his stool as the Moabite soldiers barged into the smithy. Big Perad stopped his hammering and looked fairly threatening as his bulging muscles held the large hammer above the anvil. Lanky Davneh stopped polishing the hoe he held in the corner of the smithy.

“Where is Ehud?” the Moabite captain demanded, brandishing his sword at Perad’s hammer. The midday sun reflected through the open door off the shiny sword, blinding Lerim for a moment.

“He’s not here,” Perad answered in his deep voice, gently resting the hammer on the anvil, beside the ax-head he had been working on.

“I can see that, you Hebrew scum,” the captain sneered, not lowering his sword. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know,” Perad said calmly.

“Typical. It doesn’t matter. We’ve been ordered by Bagdon to inspect all smithies and make sure there are no weapons being produced. We shall now commence our inspection.”

The captain and three other soldiers spread out through the smithy and inspected all the tools. They saw pots and pans, hoes and pitchforks, shovels and axes, scythes and hammers. The captain picked up one of the new axes and touched the edge. A small rivulet of blood sprang from his finger.

“It’s sharp!” The captain sucked on his finger and dropped the ax back on the table. “Why do you have so many axes?”

“The family of Prince Giltar has made a large order,” Davneh answered nervously. “They own the forest to the north of their fields and have been cutting down a lot of their trees.”

The soldiers moved tools, tables and benches. One soldier noticed dug up ground under one of the benches.

“Look, captain,” the soldier pointed. “The ground here has been dug up.”

“Let’s see what they’re hiding. Dig it up,” he ordered.

Two soldiers grabbed shovels and dug up the area. They lifted heavy bronze spheres from the ground.

“What are these?” the captain asked.

“That’s our sacrifice,” Lerim said quickly. “To our gods.”

“What god?” the captain asked suspiciously. “I’ve never heard of this type of worship.”

“It’s only a worship of blacksmiths. And he’s a very humble god. Most people don’t know of him.”

“What’s his name, boy?” the captain demanded.

“Um, Vulcan. We call him Vulcan.”

“Interesting.” The captain dropped the sphere back in the hole. “I will not interfere with your worship of this Vulcan. But know that we will be back. Holding or producing weapons warrants death. We shall be conducting regular inspections of all smithies, until – well, until it’s no longer necessary.”

The captain and his soldiers left the smithy. Lerim, Perad and Davneh looked at each other wordlessly, wiped their brows, tidied up the smithy and continued making their tools, more numerous and sharper than they had ever made them before.

 

“Why do you come to me, Ehud?” Elimelech asked at the door of his home.

“I would speak with you, Elimelech. May I come in?” Ehud asked.

“No. You represent all the pain of my life. Let us go by the gate of the city.” Elimelech closed the door behind him and walked with Ehud to the entrance of Bethlehem.

“Elimelech, the time has come to fight Eglon,” Ehud stated.

“Now? Now you come to me, when my energy is spent and my hope is shriveled. No, Ehud. I am weary of struggle.”

“Are you not the Prince of Judah?” Ehud asked with an edge in his voice.

“In name only. I have lost my own respect as well as that of my tribe. Go to my brother, Ploni, or perhaps to Boaz. Maybe they still have the appetite for battle. I am finished of fighting the wrong wars.”

“That is your answer? To hand off the responsibility to others? Where is the son of Nachshon the Brave?”

“Nachshon? You ask of Nachshon? Will I forever be haunted by his specter? The sea could not stop my father, yet I have only brought death and calamity upon our people. No, Ehud. I shame and disgrace his memory. To mention Nachshon is merely to show how unworthy I am, what a disastrous failure I’ve become. Leave me, Ehud. Find some other fools to fight your battles.”

“What of your family? Of your children? Of Mahlon who is still in the Tyrant’s clutches?”

“Eglon killed Mahlon when he robbed us of him. He is a stranger to us, likely more Moabite than Judean. Burying him once was enough for me.”

“Does Naomi share this feeling? Has your wife also abandoned your firstborn? You should know that Mahlon is strong and may yet help in our salvation. You would be proud of the man your son has become.”

“Mahlon?” Elimelech looked to the east as if he could see through the mountains that blocked his view of the City of Palms. “No. It is too late. I am without hope. Goodbye, Ehud. I hope that our God is still with you, for I no longer feel his presence.” Elimelech walked back home, head down, shoulders slumped.

This is going to be harder than I thought, Ehud said to himself. Hopefully Boaz will be more enthusiastic.

 

Over the course of the next two weeks Ehud traveled throughout the tribe of Israel.  He met discretely with his fellow Israelites, avoiding those that were most apathetic. He told them all the same plan.

“We will meet on the ridges of Searim the day of the next full moon. It is the day we bring the Tribute. On that day we will destroy the entire Moabite army on our land. Do not be incredulous. God, the God of our ancestors has heard our cries, and He will answer us. The time has come for us to be free of the tyranny of Eglon. Yet we must cleanse our hearts of all thoughts of idol worship. We must cling to our one true God with all our being, and then we will be truly successful.

So come, my brothers. Gird your loins. Let go of your fears. Make yourselves into weapons of the Almighty and we will show those Moabite dogs how the sons of Israel account themselves!”

The crowds would cheer, suddenly infused with rejuvenated hope in the face of overwhelming odds. The odds did not deter Ehud’s followers. Instead their hope motivated them further.

In parting, Ehud would say the same lines uttered by Moses and Joshua – an eternal rallying cry for the Children of Israel:  “Be strong and courageous! God is with us!”

 

“And they said they would be back,” Lerim breathlessly explained to Ehud upon his return to the smithy.

“Well, good thinking on your part about that story with a god of blacksmiths, though the concept is abhorrent. We should not be so quick to call on false gods, even in jest. I can’t believe they fell for such a blatant lie.” Ehud scratched his beard as he looked at the tools they had produced in his absence.

“Now what?” Davneh asked nervously.

“Some men from some of the tribes have agreed to fight back. They are few, but we shall have to make do,” Ehud answered.

“What about weapons? Sharpened axes will be no match for professional swords.” Davneh gestured to the shinning tools throughout the smithy.

Perad grabbed a hammer and smashed an old workbench into pieces, shards flying in all directions. “Stop sniveling!” Perad exclaimed. “A hoe to the throat can kill just as well as a sword. If God is with us we will be victorious.”

“Perad is right,” Ehud explained. “We must do the best we can and God will do the rest. But I do need to make at least one sword. Let’s melt the brass off of those iron spheres. Good thing none of those Moabites knew their metals, otherwise they would have felt the difference immediately.”

“I want to fight as well,” Lerim announced decisively.

“We’ve been over this before,” Ehud responded. “You are too young and I will not risk you in battle. It is enough you lost your father. I shall not make Yigal’s wife husbandless and childless by the same Tyrant. Your helping us here is already a big risk and contribution.”

“I want to avenge Yigal,” Lerim said.

“We shall do that for you. I need you to be an example for the other children to stay back. You are our future and we cannot risk harm coming to you.”

“If you lose, then what future will we have? You will need all the help you can get.”

“Lerim, your heart is in the right place, but I cannot argue about this further. Enough. We have work to do.”

Ehud sat at the workbench, elbows on the table and rested his head on his fists as he finally thought about what he needed to do. I need a weapon. It has to get by undetected. But it has to be effective. It has to be short enough to be concealed, but long and strong enough to kill. A knife is too short. I would never get a sword in.

A short sword, then. What’s the longest I can make it? It must be sharp. I can strap something to my back. No. It will be too apparent. I can strap something to my thigh. The guards will not check under my tunic. That will be its length. It must be heavy and well balanced. But I have no guide. I have never heard of anyone making such a sword.

It must be able to pierce and slash, not just a one-side hacking weapon. I need to get the balance right. I can err by making the blade too heavy and then add weight on the pommel. If I make the blade too light all the work will be lost. But by how much should I err?

Having made his decision, Ehud stood up and started working on the mold. Perad and Davneh had melted the bronze off the spheres, revealing the hot iron interior. They then melted the iron core until it became a bubbling soup of molten metal. Ehud poured the red liquid iron into the mold. Bright chunks of the hot metal splattered out of the mold and onto the floor where they quickly cooled down. However, the majority of the metal settled nicely and evenly into the mold and started to cool down in the breezy evening air. With a pair of tongs Ehud grabbed the still hot shape and placed it in a tub of water which steamed angrily. He then reheated areas of the new sword-shaped object and pounded those spots with a heavy iron mallet. Ehud did this again and again into the night – almost in a trance. The heat was such that every few minutes Ehud had to wipe his dripping sweat out of his eyes. Ehud continued fiercely until he had the shape he wanted.

By the early hours of the morning he was sharpening the sword until the edges were razor-sharp. Finally he looked upon his newly created weapon in wonder. The sword was unlike anything he had ever beheld. The workmanship of the sword was clearly beyond his normal abilities, and he was sure that it was more a result of inspiration rather than skill. It was more like a long dagger than a real sword. Most swords in the region were curved affairs, while his was rigidly straight. Most swords had a single sharp edge and were used for slicing one’s enemy. In some cases a sword would have blunt edges and be used as a bludgeoning device. Ehud’s sword was a double-edged sword with a sharp tip that could be used for slicing from either side – or stabbing.

Ehud’s plan became clearer in his mind as he held his weapon lovingly.

 

Eglon woke with a start, a sharp pain penetrating his large stomach. The nightmare again, he thought. It had repeated itself for weeks now. He had been at a sumptuous banquet, with all the delicacies of the world at an endless table. Sliced pineapples, fish eggs, sides of beef from rare antelopes, an infinite number of breads in all shapes and sizes, steaming dishes with legumes and vegetables he did not recognize and wine as far as the eye could see. He sat with the greatest kings of history. Pharaohs and Emperors. Nimrod, Hammurabi, Seti the First, Gilgamesh and others he did not know. Dirthamus was at his side, warning him not to eat too much. Galkak was there too, drinking to his heart’s content.

“Eat up, Boss!” Galkak exhorted as he raised an overflowing goblet, spilling red wine. “Why should we pass up on any pleasure? Why should we restrain ourselves? We are masters of the world!”

There was a plate in front of him with miniature heads of the Israelite princelings. He ate one. It was delicious. He ate another and it was even better. Finally he reached the head of Mahlon. Eglon was filled with fear as he beheld the ruddy features of the red-head of Judah. This may be the most exotic taste of all, he thought. Eglon ate the head whole and then his stomach exploded in pain, waking him up.

Perhaps I ate too much last night, Eglon thought, and resolved to restrain himself. The resolve lasted as long as it took him to roll over and go back to sleep.

* * * * * *

Warrior Prophets 2 Chapter 23 – Clouds of War

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!”

 

* * * * * *

 

Warrior Prophets 2 Chapter 22 – Blacksmith’s Deception

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.

* * * * * *

Warrior Prophets 2 Chapter 20 – The Weight of Oppression

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.

* * * * * *

Warrior Prophets 2 Chapter 18 – Baby Steps

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.

* * * * * *