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Breakfast at Hattus

The full book Ephron Son of Zohar is available free as ebook on all online retailers but here is Chapter One to whet your appetite.

Breakfast at Hattus

“Wake up, Ephron. There won’t be anything left if you don’t hurry.” A female voice penetrated Ephron’s groggy consciousness as he rolled over.

“We didn’t get anything hunting yesterday,” said Ephron. “I’d rather sleep than eat yesterday’s stew. Nothing but vegetables.” He didn’t move until … “Ow! What was that for?”

This time he opened his eyes and looked through the darkness. One of his sisters had just poked him. He wasn’t sure which in the dim light and sleep-fog. “Hey, that’s my spear.”

“It’s not the pointy end. And I made you some bread. Well, not just for you. But anyway, there’s bread.” She came up to his bunk. “A dragon came by this morning. It was only a little one, so you better hurry or there won’t be anything left.”

Ephron sat up like he was stabbed and jumped out of the sturdy leather hammock which served as his bed. “Okay, but first I need to change.”

“Into what? Poof. My brother is going to be a dragon.”

His brother Akiia’s bed below him was already locked into the wall. The room was made entirely of large, smooth stones; walls, floor, and ceiling. Large timber beams ran from the inner to the outer wall at four-cubit intervals to support the ceiling. The individual stones fit without a trace of the cracks between them in the near-darkness. The long hall for the unmarried men had a dozen and a half wall notches for hammocks in the stone, all on the same wall. Hooks filled the other walls, hung with an orderly array of personal belongings, tools, weapons, changes of entirely leather clothes, shoes, garments, and various items whose purposes were difficult to determine. The many skins, mostly deer, antelope, and gazelle, insulated the floor and walls as throw rugs and wall hangings. They were the only signs of creature comforts.

“I will be so glad when you get married,” said Ephron.

“You’ll just have to wait. I’m not even twenty. And maybe we’ll still live in this very room.”

“Sisters!” Ephron pushed her through the massive doorway and closed the well-finished wood door on her. The door was made with thick-sawn cedar and fit perfectly into the smooth stone frame. The heavy door closed with a whisper of a click as he slid a bolt into the jamb to hold the door closed. The bolt had handles on both sides. This permitted the bolt to slide open from either inside or outside the room. He finished changing just as the door opened again.

“You want this?”

Ephron turned around as his spear whacked him broadside in the chest. He grabbed it with one hand and swung it into place back on its wall hooks.

“You always let Tawananna play with your weapons?”

“Taku?” asked the still-groggy Ephron.

“Come on, brother. There’s dragon in the pot. It was a little one and it’s not going far. If you want any, you’d better hurry.”

As Ephron finished tightening his sandals, the door flew the rest of the way open, bouncing back from the leather doorstops on the wall. Two small children with lanyards draped around their necks, from which hung bowls and spoons, ran into the room.

“Daddy, can we have some more dragon?”

“Can we?”

Ephron grabbed the solid and ornately-carved boards of his bed frame. With his left hand he lifted and folded it into a matching notch in the wall while his right hand secured it into place. The tongue and grove of the boards visible on the bottom of the bed frame displayed solid workmanship.

Taku scooped up both children, one in each arm. “Mesha, Sephar, you know the rules. No seconds until everyone gets firsts.”

“Hurry up, uncle Ephron,” begged Mesha, the older of the two.

Ephron grabbed the leather lanyard next to his bed and his bronze bowl, cup, and wooden spoon came along. Unlike the ornate bowls and cups of his nephews, Ephron’s utensils were plain and smooth. As soon as he looped the plain lanyard over his head, Mesha and Sephar jumped down from their father’s arms. Each child grabbed an arm and pulled Ephron through the door. The wooden spoon clapped with a loud echo against the bronze bowl and drinking cup.

The bright sun blinded Ephron as he walked through the doorway. He could sense rather than see dozens of eyes on him as he walked across the grass commons to the tiled courtyard where a large, half-filled bronze pot bubbled. The smells of animals more than two bowshots away from the living quarters were more than overwhelmed by the smell of baked bread, wood smoke and meat stew. The autumn sun had just begun to peek over the top of the outer stone wall.

“How’s the night watchman?”

“Mom.” Ephron hugged and kissed her on the top of her uncovered black hair, which still had only a few strands of gray.

“Hold out your bowl,” said his mother. “Then everyone else can get seconds.”

Ephron took the leather lanyard off of his neck, detached the spoon and cup and held out his bowl as his sister filled it. Mesha and Sephar each handed him a large round loaf of bread with the top ripped off.

“We have already made a thank offering to Adonai,” said Zohar, his father, as dozens of family members lined up for more food.

Ephron sat on one of the many backless wood benches, folded his hands and, looking up, offered his own prayer. The stone roof made this a large porch with a stone floor, which contrasted with the grass and dirt of most of the courtyard. As he began to eat, his parents sat down across from him. Tawananna, the sister who had so rudely awakened him, filled his cup with water and sat next him. Taku sat next to their parents and several other brothers stood around.

“Gazelle are coming,” said Zohar. “Thousands, probable even tens of thousands.”

Ephron looked each of his brothers in the eye. “That is good, but that is not why you are standing here. May I guess that Gilgamesh’s men follow the gazelle?”

“I told you Ephron would know what to do,” said Taku.

“Knowing what is going to happen is easy,” said Ephron. “Knowing what to do about it, now that is another matter.”

“They are lazy,” said Zohar.

“They let you notice a few of their men, probably only three or four, no more than a half dozen,” said Ephron. “They want us to think there are not enough men to be concerned with. What they want is for someone else to do the hard work of slaughtering the animals, tanning the hides, and preparing the meat for winter. Then they will come with thousands of men and take the meat we have prepared for our families for the winter.”

“But there are more of them this year,” said their mother Nebajoth.

“More gazelle or more of Gilgamesh’s men?” asked Ephron?

“Both,” said Taku. “We met one of Uncle Anah’s hunting parties yesterday. The leader told me that Gilgamesh’s men are fighting each other.”

“That certainly does not surprise me,” said Tawananna. “Greed always works that way.”

“They also told me that they could not talk to Gilgamesh’s men,” said Taku.

“Taku! Don’t sit on the table!” Turning to Ephron, their mother, Nabajoth, continued. “I have always been afraid it would come to this. Were any of our relatives hurt? Did the strangers attack?”

Taku shook his head. “That is not what they meant, mother. They meant that they could not talk to them.”

“You mean,” asked Zohar, “that they would not get close enough to speak?”

“No father,” said Dumu. “We were with Taku. The men from Anah said that when the men of Gilgamesh spoke, the sounds coming out of their throats were not words. They all had the same kind of sounds coming out of their throats, but they could not understand the men of Anah. But the men of Gilgamesh could understand each other.”

“What did the men of Gilgamesh do?” asked Ephron.

“The sons of Anah were all on horseback, with shields, swords, and spears. Some even had bows, and there were nearly a hundred of them,” said Taku. “There were only about a half-dozen men of Gilgamesh. The sons of Anah said that Gilgamesh’s men got angry and began screaming, but still no one could understand them. After listening to the screaming for a few minutes, the sons of Anah began laughing at them and men of Gilgamesh left.”

“Father,” asked Ephron, “do you mind if I go to the sons of Anah myself?”

“Did the sons of Anah tell you about the gazelle?” asked Tawananna.

“No,” said Dumu. “We learned about the gazelle from a caravan going down to Yadiya.”

“We will miss your skills in hunting today,” said Zohar to Ephron.

“Can I come with you?” Tawananna asked Ephron. She wrapped her arms around her brother and batted her eyes.

“Please,” said Adah, wife of Taku. “Give us a day of peace. Besides, you might find a nice warrior husband for her.”

Ephron looked at Taku and shook his head no. “They are also sons of Heth,” said Nabajoth. “Adah might have a good idea. Tawananna is quite good with a horse.”

“And a bow,” said Tawananna.

“I see that we are outnumbered,” said Zohar. “You do know that your mother actually runs this family?”

“And it seems as if Tawananna rules over her mother,” said Taku.

Ephron swallowed the last of his bread, drank the last of his water, stood up, and pulled his sister up beside him. He wiped his bowl, spoon, and cup clean, and put them on a hook next to his bunk.

The rest of the family watched as they readied their horses. They put large pieces of soft goatskin on the horse’s backs first. Their simple leather saddles only had smooth seats and two straps to bind the seats to the horses. They led the horses over to a set of steps so they could mount the animal more easily. They each strapped an awkward but portable step behind their saddles in case the need arose to mount the horse somewhere without a mounting step. The small saddlebags had only water and very few provisions, since they planned to return before sunset. Their uncle could provide them with an afternoon meal.

“Father,” said Taku. “Ephron is doing your job. You should be talking to the sons of Anan, not Ephron.”

Zohar looked at Taku without speaking. Realizing their father was not going to answer, Dumu put his hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“That was a very small dragon,” said Dumu. “Let’s go. There’s nothing for dinner tonight.”

The men motioned to their brothers. Everyone rose to get their hunting spears, shields, knives, bows and straps.

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Michael J. Findley

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Most Fortunate of Men

Cairnsford was so small, and it lay so close to the borderlands, that any day its people expected to see the enemy army march into the dusty town square. Squire Duncan’s daughter Jael could not help being nervous as she drove her pigs to the village well.


Not that the people lacked faith in their army. Why, on the outskirts of town sprawled the great stone mansion of General Caleb himself. But bitter hostilities with Lochbourne had continued on for ten years now. It seemed the best of generals could not win this war.


Many men and boys from the village had gone and never returned. Horses and oxen and every other kind of beast had been sacrificed in the fight. Jael remembered sadly what their herd of pigs had once been. The few that were left did not even have to fight to get a share of the water.


Jael looked at her reflection in the dark water and wondered. Her black hair still showed no trace of gray, still looked shiny and felt soft. Her face seemed unwrinkled, even around her green eyes, and her figure still slim, though she had now reached the age of twenty-seven.


“Have you heard?” Isa, the innkeeper’s daughter, exclaimed. “Our army won! The peace conference is to be held in the Trent Valley, just the other side of the forest.”


“Are you sure?” Jael demanded. She wondered that no word of this victory had reached her father.


“Of course I am sure!” Isa said mockingly, staring insolently up at Jael. “The squire’s daughter does not always get the first news. The messenger just arrived at the inn an hour ago. You have been tending your dirty pigs, I suppose, so of course you wouldn’t know. He has gone to see your father by now, so you’ll know soon enough. The war is over, and soon your betrothed will come home and see how haggard you’ve gotten!”


“At least I have one coming,” Jael said quietly.


“He may change his mind when he sees you,” Isa taunted.


Jael turned away from her and hoisted her bucket up on her shoulder, then deliberately let it spill out onto Isa as she passed by her. She left the screaming, sputtering girl without even seeing the results, though she chuckled inside at the thought of Isa’s painstakingly crimped yellow hair lying in wet rivulets along her stumpy fat neck.


Jael drove her pigs home as quickly as she could, thankful suddenly that she had so few. She saw the strange horse at the hitching post outside their dark-timbered house. Hurrying the pigs into their pen, she strode quickly inside. Her father sat at the long, rough-hewn table with a thin, weary-looking man in herald’s garb. The fellow rose hastily when Jael entered.


“My daughter,” the squire said by way of introduction. “You may repeat your news for her.”


The herald bowed. “Greetings to you, gracious lady,” he said. “I have made my apologies to the Squire for not coming first to your house, but my horse went lame and I had to stop at the inn to have him seen to.”


“It is no matter,” Jael said. She saw something in the man’s face that caused a sick feeling of dread to rise up inside her. “Tell your news, herald.”


“Lady, the war is won,” the herald said, far from being as hearty about such news as he ought to have been. “There is a force of about two hundred enemy left in the Trent Valley which we have surrounded. In their ranks is the Crown Prince of Lochbourne, and our king is even now sending negotiators to them to make terms.”


“What other news do you bear?”


“My lady is shrewd,” the messenger said, bowing again. “It is indeed a time to temper our joy with mourning. General Caleb has fallen, my lady.”


“It is impossible.” The room shifted around her, it seemed, but she grasped the back of a chair and steadied herself. “It is impossible,” she said again.


“Would that I lied, my lady,” the herald said, tears springing suddenly into his eyes and falling unchecked into the lines down his face. “I myself have come from that battlefield, straight to your father’s house. And I myself saw the general plunge from his horse in the midst of that final battle. It was their prince himself, a mighty warrior, who felled him with a terrible lance-blow. I saw him fall, lady. I saw him fall.”


“What of the body?” Jael demanded.


“Oh, lady, we searched the field all the next day, but found him not. It is our thought — lady, I would spare your gentle ears if I could — it is our thought that the body was taken by the enemy — they may have sought a thing upon which to vent their anger at their defeat. They may have defiled the general’s corpse.”


“May it not be possible that he lives?” Jael asked. “Could he have escaped the field and hidden himself?”


“You did not see the blow he received,” the herald said. “Lady, I was born in this village. For that reason I came straight here, for it is days closer than the capital, and I have told–” he faltered for the first time, and glanced at Duncan with a look Jael did not understand ” — I have told my tale.”


“What is this?” Jael demanded, staring at her father, who avoided her look. “Father?”


“There is nothing we can do,” her father insisted. “There is not a man in this village who could protect us. No one to attend us. We cannot do anything.”


“Father, we must go,” Jael exclaimed. “This outrage must not be permitted. We shall get the body from them and bring it home. It shall be buried here, where he was born, and where he lived and went out to defend our lives.”


“How can we?” her father exploded. “We shall be killed before we ever reach the place! And we could do nothing if we got there! They may have cast bits of him to the four winds by this time.”
“We must go,” Jael said firmly, letting go of the chair. “Father, we have taxed this poor herald most inhospitably. I will get him food and drink and then gather our things.”


“Lady, I will accompany you myself,” the herald cried. “It does my heart good to see you so resolved. Thank you for your courage.”


Jael’s father led in prayer for the food. “Oh, Lord God, we thank thee for this victory. We pray for thy protection as we go in Your Name and for courage and wisdom to do right.” His voice gained courage and resolve even as he spoke and Jael knew he was back to being the father she knew and loved. She just wished her knees would stop shaking.


They rode all that afternoon and came to the Trent Valley at dusk. The herald was so weary he seemed ready to fall from his saddle by the time they reached the camp of their forces, which held the enemy within its circle. When they made their errand clear they were at first refused permission to cross the lines. The general’s second-in-command came to speak to them.


“We have come to ask the enemy to return the general’s body to us,” Jael stated. “These soldiers block our path. Are we the enemy, that your men stop our way?”


The commander bowed. “Lady, these are not honorable soldiers we hold within our circle,” he said. “If you did not know it before, this outrage must have told you. We have sent messages every hour demanding the return of the body. The answer comes straight that they refuse to give it up. It is our hope that the king’s negotiators come quickly and make terms for its release.”


“They are at least another day distant!” Jael exclaimed. “Is not the king himself coming?”


“Aye, my lady, but he will follow by at least another day. It is hoped all will be settled by then.”


“All will be settled tonight,” Jael said. “Let me pass.”


The commander looked into her eyes, studied the straightness of her carriage, glanced at her fearful but determined father, and stepped aside.


“I will send an escort of soldiers,” he proposed.


“No. We go on a mission of peace,” Jael said, “not to start the war again.”


In half an hour they met the first of the enemy’s troops. Jael was surprised to find that they were at once conducted through the lines to the tent of the Prince. Jael and her father were ushered inside.


The prince was a very young man, younger than Jael. It was impossible to suppose he had fought for the duration of the war. No doubt he had joined the army only recently. He was tall, straight, handsome, and powerfully built. When they entered he had been seated in a chair draped with rich fabric, but he rose as soon as he caught sight of Jael. His clothing was completely black, buckles, tassels, even the small bells that adorned it. His skin was very white and his hair and eyes light-colored.


“Welcome, Lady Jael,” he said with a graceful bow. “May I offer refreshment to you and your father?”


“Yes,” Jael said calmly. They sat on a beautiful rug and were served bread and cheese and fruit and seasoned meat. The prince stood by and ate nothing. At last his servant offered them wine. Jael refused and said, “We have come for our general, and ask you to release him to us.”


The prince looked at her in genuine astonishment. “Your general? Why, my lady, it is impossible.”


“My father has brought a ransom which should be suitable,” Jael said. Duncan hastily produced a cask and opened it, showing the gold within. The prince paced the tent and whirled back to look at them.


“Is this what the commander has been asking for all this time? We could not understand,” the prince said. “Your general is a man of great courage and strength. I have never seen his like in battle, and mine is a family of warriors. He must be highly regarded among his own people as well, if they would send one such as you to plead for him.”


“He is of our village,” Jael replied, blushing. “It was fitting that my father and I should come.”


“Your village is close?”


“Half a day only.”


“Then perhaps if your general is alive in the morning, I will allow you to take him home. He may live to die in his own bed.”


“The general is alive?” Jael’s father cried.


“Why, friend squire, would I take him from the field if he were dead?” The prince asked quizzically. Then he saw the look Jael and her father exchanged and his face clouded.


“We are not beasts who find sport in worrying corpses,” he said sharply. “I saw that he still lived and struggled after he fell, and that your troops were unlikely to find him in time to do what could be done.”


“If he has lived all this time, are you so sure he will die?” Duncan asked.


“Squire, I broke his back,” the prince said without emotion. “Lady, allow me to prepare you quarters for the night,” the prince said, seeing Jael’s faintness. “Tomorrow take your general home.”


Jael’s father helped her to the hastily-emptied officer’s tent where they were to stay and she collapsed, weeping, when they were alone. Her father held her close.


Jael slept but poorly that night and was out of the tent at dawn. To her surprise, the prince stood waiting outside the tent. He bowed.


“Come and see your general, Lady,” he invited. “I have told him of your arrival. It is easier for him to trust me with himself, since he has no choice, but his concern for your safety is very great. Show him that I have done you no harm.”


Jael followed the prince silently as he made his way through the wounded lying everywhere, some under makeshift awnings, and some in tents. Many cried for a touch of his hand, which he gave willingly, speaking with great kindness to all he passed.


He led Jael into a tent and she fell down beside General Caleb. It had been a long time since she had seen him. He was a very tall man. His dark hair and beard were thickly shot with gray, but his blue eyes looked clear and filled with relief as he reached out a hand to her.


“Lady Jael,” the general said, kissing her hand. “Is your good father well?”


“Very well, my lord,” Jael said, wishing her eyes would stay dry as she bade them. “We have neither of us been harmed. The prince has been most gracious.”


“I thank God. And my thanks to you, sir,” the general said to the prince. “It is a strange thing to find one’s enemy not so much an enemy as he supposed.”


“This was my father’s war, noble general,” the prince said softly. “I tried to be a dutiful son. But I am glad it is over. Your people are fine and brave, and I am not sorry that you will keep what is yours. The lady has come to take you home.”


“We must send word to our army that a wagon will be needed, and men to help,” Jael said.


“Lady, I would be honored to give you what you require,” the prince said. “My men honor your general as I do, and will be an honor guard to show our respect for him.”


Jael stayed while the general was being prepared for travel. Only when her father had mounted his horse and started to follow the ox-drawn wagon toward their own lines did the prince draw her aside for a moment.


“I will take no ransom,” he said firmly. “I have told your father so. Our people have cost your people enough.” He hesitated, making Jael think he had finished, but then grasped her hand. “Lady, our people will be at peace soon,” he said. “I do not know if God will spare my life, but after today I believe He works miracles. If I am to live, may I ask your father if I may seek your hand in marriage?”


Jael stared at him, startled, and blushed. “You honor me,” she said. “But I am already betrothed.”


“Are you sure that he has lived through this ten years of war?” the prince asked wryly.


“I have no doubt of it,” Jael said.


“He will be the most fortunate of men,” the prince said wistfully. “Farewell, Lady.”


Miraculously, General Caleb survived the trip home. Jael stayed in the wagon with him all the way, making him as comfortable as she could. He insisted that he felt little pain, and could feel nothing at all in the lower part of his body. Duncan rode alongside on his horse and answered the general’s questions about the village, lamenting the shortage of beasts and poor crops. Jael said little except to express her concern for the general’s comfort.


At last they arrived at the dark stone house. Word of their coming had spread through the village and most of the people came to welcome General Caleb home. Even Isa gushed her praise for Jael’s bravery.


But Jael shooed them quickly away, except for those who could help deliver the general safely to his bed and prepare food for him. It was late in the evening before he was settled in for sleep and Jael could leave him with those who would care for him through the night. She came home to find her father brooding at the kitchen table.


“I will go back to see how he does in the morning,” Jael said as she fixed her father some cold meat and bread and set a tankard of ale before him. He looked at the food but did not eat.


“The general is a very strong man indeed,” he said in a low voice.


“Father, you should eat,” Jael urged.


“It may be that he will not die,” her father continued. “Our village doctor thinks he may live.”


“It would be a wonderful thing if he would live and grow strong again,” Jael said briskly, setting things to rights as she moved around the room.


“He will not gain the use of his legs again, my dear,” Duncan said firmly, stepping into Jael’s path and stopping her bustling around the room.


“How can you be so sure?” Jael demanded sharply.


“I am sure,” her father answered. “You must face it as a fact.”


“Father, time may make him well!” Jael insisted.


“How long will you wait before you realize it? And what will you do when you can no longer deny it?”


Jael began to tremble. Her father seized her in a fierce, protective embrace.


“You have been strong all these years, my Jael,” Duncan said in her ear. “Do not be weak about this.”


“I cannot, father. Surely he will not force me.”


“I do not think he will. But he will need you more than he ever could have.”


“I cannot be his nurse! I would have been proud and honored and glad to be his wife. But what kind of life can we have?”


“He is the same great and noble and courageous man he has always been. And you are betrothed to him.”


“Will you force me to wed him, then?”


“My Jael, I will honor my word.”


Jael pulled away from him and ran out of the house. She caught her horse in the paddock and galloped out into the night. The animal’s long legs stretched out beneath her, its hooves seeking footing as she plunged through the forest along a faint path.


Thunder rumbled, but she did not pause, even when a downpour drenched her. But the horse stumbled at last and she realized how dark it had become. Stopping, she found that a sharp stick had forced itself under the horse’s shoe. Binding it up with a piece ripped from her sleeve, Jael began to lead the beast home.


Lights and voices warned her of the approach of at least half a dozen mounted men. Jael cursed her stupidity, which had left her caught out in a rainstorm alone with a lame horse and no way of defending herself.


She was about to try to slip away into the woods when a man approached wearing the insignia of the king’s royal guard. He was followed by a group of men carrying pitch-soaked torches burning feebly in the drizzle that remained from the storm. At the center of the men she recognized the king himself.


“What a dreadful night to find a woman out alone in the woods!” exclaimed the king. “Do you know the village of Cairnsford? Can you show us the way?”


Jael nodded wordlessly and pointed off down the trail the way she had originally come.


“Your horse is lame,” the king observed. “One of my men will give you his mount and lead the beast.”


Jael accepted reluctantly, and as she mounted the soldier’s horse the king took a closer look at her.


“Why, you are the squire’s daughter, Lady Jael,” the king exclaimed. “We go to presume upon your hospitality. Tomorrow we can reach the valley of Trent, is it not so?”


“Easily, majesty,” Jael replied. “You honor our house with your presence.”


“I suppose you have heard that the war is over, Lady,” the king asked.


“Indeed, some such tidings have reached us,” Jael said evasively.


“It is sad news indeed that General Caleb was killed,” the king mused. “They will pay dearly for this outrage.”


“But majesty, the general lives.” Jael almost enjoyed the shocked look on the king’s face. “Today my father and I brought him home from Trent.”


The king reigned up his horse and stared at her. “How can it be? I was told many saw him fall, and that the enemy stole the body and may have defiled it.”


“It was false, sire. Their prince himself had his physicians care for the general and freely gave him up to my father and I. We did not even pay a ransom.”


“Then all is well!” The king seemed to draw himself up straighter. “I can scarcely believe it. My messenger said no man could have lived after the blow the general received. Yet you say he is alive?”


“Alive, yes, majesty,” Jael hedged. The king saw in her face that which whisked away the joy from his own eyes.


“What has happened?”


“Come to my home, rest and refresh yourselves,” Jael said, for they had come out of the woods and stood before her house. “Tomorrow I will take you to see the general.”


Jael spent another sleepless night and was down in the kitchen very early, baking bread and frying slices of ham. She knew the king and his men must be very weary, for they had arrived more than a full day ahead of the expected time. She tried hard not to disturb them as she prepared breakfast, but their hunger apparently was greater than their weariness, for they bestirred themselves when they began to smell the food.


Jael came out to set the table and found her father conversing with the king. She saw in the king’s looks that her father had not hesitated to tell him of the general’s condition.


“Your household shall receive great honor for what you have done, Squire,” the king promised. “A warrior’s share of the spoil from Lochbourne shall be yours. And a portion of their tribute shall be yours as well.


“And they shall pay dearly for General Caleb,” he went on after a pause. “No less than the life of the one who took from him all but his life. Their prince shall die here in this village.”


“Majesty, speak with the general before you do this,” Jael blurted out, startling all the men at the table. She blushed at their stares and cast down her eyes. “Seek his counsel, I beg of you, before you resolve such a thing.”


The king seemed genuinely surprised at her passion. “If you wish it, I shall, Lady,” he replied. “But he has more reason to be bitter than any of us. It is my wish to avenge him. Surely he will be pleased.”


“Perhaps you do not know the general as well as you think,” Jael ventured. And she was struck by the thought that she herself was unsure how the general would react. Before yesterday she would not have believed of herself that she would seek to be loosed from her betrothal for any reason. Now she felt again the bitter resentment rise within her at the very thought of spending her life with a crippled husband.


She knew the general but little, in reality. They had met and spoken half a dozen times in all the years of her life. His reputation as a soldier, a leader, and master she knew well, but how had he changed in the face of this tragic event? Would he be glad for the death of the Lochbournian prince? It would be no worse a thing than her own opposition to the wedding she had once looked forward to.


They made the short walk over to the general’s mansion as soon as breakfast was done. Jael had been unable to eat anything. She thought of letting her father take the king alone, but something drew her and she found herself in the general’s bedroom before she quite realized it.


“Our valiant warrior,” the king said gently, accepting the hand the general reached out to him. “We have heard of your victory, and we thank you. Be assured that we will deal with the Lochbournians as is fitting after their ten years laying waste to our land and slaughtering our people. And we pledge especially that this thing which has been done to you shall be avenged.”


“Sire, there is a thing you should know before you set sail upon the course you have charted,” the general said. “The king of Lochbourne died a week ago.”


The king stared at him. “I heard it as I lay in their tents,” the general said. “The prince had come to the battlefront to bear the news to his commanders and seek to end the war. This whole war was the work of a crazed monarch, and not the will of any of his people, not even his own son. It was a terrible mischance that the prince happened to arrive in the midst of this final battle and was forced to help defend his people instead of bearing the message of peace he had wanted to bring. This young man worships God and seeks good, unlike his father, whose evil he could not control.”


“Do you mean to say that he did not intend to kill you as he struck that blow on the field?” demanded the king.


“Why, majesty, I would do the same in his place. A man does not become a soldier to see if he can spare as many of the enemy as possible when they press hard to end the lives of his men. He but did a soldier’s duty. And now he seeks peace. Believe me, their people have been punished for this war. They spoke freely enough in my presence, thinking that I would never live to repeat anything. Their losses were far heavier than we realized, in men, in beasts, in money — their country lies in ruins, if half what they spoke is true. It has been plucked clean to pay for this war.”


“And so you think I must be merciful?” the king was angry. “Have they not ravaged us and cost us much in just those things you have spoken of, and fought upon our soil besides?”


“Majesty, you will find yourself with little choice,” the general said with a wan smile. “There will be little spoil to gather, little tribute to exact. I doubt none of what they said. Lochbourne is a wasted skeleton. You will have to be a skillful buzzard to pick meat from its bones. It is even as I am, left with nothing of value but hope that those in whose hands my future lies will be kind to me.”


Jael started to see his eyes rest upon her as he spoke his last words. And tears burst from her eyes as she understood the man she had pledged to marry at last. She stepped up to the bed and knelt beside Caleb.


“Your future lies in my hands, God willing, my lord Caleb,” she said with a smile. “It will be as bright as I can make it.”


Caleb smiled back at her. “Then perhaps I was wrong about having nothing of value,” he said softly. “Perhaps I am the most fortunate of men.”


By the time the peace negotiations were completed a month later, General Caleb was able to sit up in a wheeled chair. Jael pushed him around his yard so that he could see the state of his property. He eagerly planned the restoration of his withered flower gardens now that the servants who had gone off to war or back to their families would be returning. Jael too was grateful for the prospect of help with the work of restoring the village. It would be good to see their interrupted lives start moving again.

Voices sounded from down the wooded lane that approached the mansion and they both looked up. Several men, including Jael’s father, appeared around the bend. Jael recognized the king and some of his retainers, and finally realized that the others wore the crest of Lochbourne. Beside the king walked the prince who had used his lance upon Caleb.


“Welcome, welcome!” Caleb called heartily, and bade Jael push him toward the visitors. “Please excuse the state of my grounds. We were just talking of how to begin to care for these poor neglected beds, and we–“


The prince of Lochbourne strode forward and fell to his knees before Caleb.


“I thank you for my life, noble general,” he said brokenly. “And for the mercy your king has shown to my people. I know very well that it was your doing. As God is my witness, when my country has recovered itself, we will try to repay you. I only regret that some things cannot be mended with tribute.”


“Why, friend prince, it has all come out well, has it not?” Caleb responded with a smile. “We shall do better as friends than we did as enemies, I am sure.”


The prince looked up and saw Jael for the first time. He staggered to his feet and his eyes widened.


“Did not the king tell you of our wedding this afternoon?” Jael smiled. “He has come to wish us joy. Will you not stay as well and be our guest?”


“He told me of the general’s marriage today…” the prince faltered. “But he did not mention the name of the bride. You … told me you were betrothed. Now I see why you were so sure your husband was alive. It is … it is just as it should be, Lady. Indeed, I can with all my heart stay and wish you joy. I do not see how you and your general can fail to have it, whether by my wish or no. Certainly, you cannot but have joy, Lady Jael.”

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October 21, 2021

This is a truly wonderful tale. It shows the reality of Godly love.

David Bergsland

Mary C. Findley

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SPRING FOREVER

Romance, Short Story, Uplifting, Literary

Thin, wrinkled fingers turned the faded pages of her well-loved book with a strength that hadn’t failed for over sixty years. Frowning slightly, Rose glared toward the whirring machines in the room that would not stop their infernal beeping. At least the steady rhythm assured her worrywart niece that everything but her blasted leg was in top shape.

Sighing, Rose tried again to focus on the story set in her beloved Paris. Pushing a stray lock of silver hair behind her ear, she squinted. Her strength may not have deserted her all this time, but her eyesight was a different matter altogether. Adjusting her reading glasses with a sharp tweak, the blurred words cleared just in time to be obscured by a large orange rose that suddenly covered half the page.

Jerking her head up, Rose wondered who would be here at this hour. Her niece had gone to get dinner only twenty minutes ago. Her green eyes collided with a pair so dark and full of passion that a long-forgotten feeling, like a tornado of butterflies trying to escape her stomach, rose.

The angular face of her memories had softened with age, now framed by wavy grey hair. His long fingers clenched the fragrant bouquet of orange roses in his hands.

“Mon amour,” he breathed, more than said, the words.

“John,” Rose sighed and reached for the roses with hands sun-kissed by a Paris spring, no longer blue-veined and pale with a protruding IV line.

The accelerated beeping of the heart rate monitor melted away along with the whitewashed walls and disinfectant smells. They were replaced by the aroma of street vendors mixed with roses. Sunlight broke through the trees to glint on the river Seine.

Memories continued to swirl around the long-lost couple: glances stolen across pieces of art in the Louvre; passionate kisses in the shade of Notre Dame; mouthwatering picnics under an endless spring sky; early morning tea and coffee at their favorite cafes.

The thud of her book falling off the bed pulled them back to the present. John blinked unfocused eyes before time again stilled as he slowly lowered to one knee, pulling Rose’s hand to his lips.

“Mon amour,” he said again. “I finally found you.”

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Erudessa Gentian

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His Unfading Star

“Is this what it’s like, my love?” Soren reached for the hand of Rhizah, his wife of thirty years, fighting the shiver of fear quivering his words.

“Don’t fret, Soren,” she replied softly, rubbing the swollen knuckles on his hand. “It’s not the most horrible thing to happen.”

His wife was born blind, so she was at quite peace with the dark. She was probably the most humble, trusting woman he’d ever known, especially since she’s had to depend on him to see for her for the past thirty-something years. He never been without sight, and the the past 48 hours of complete and utter blackness shaved his nerves raw.

Two days ago, the stars had fallen from the sky, and Maldonine, star primary, had just fizzled out. Their light source was gone, with no explanation of why. And with the major star’s disappearance, all star power had ceased. No television or news, no microwave or electric stove, no heat. He’d held is breath, hoping some random generator somewhere from years past would kick on and restore sanity to his life.

But it was a pipe dream. No one had generators anymore.

He and Rhizah and gone down into their basement and pulled her great grandmother’s quilts from bins so that they would be warmer at night, had pulled moth-pocked sweaters from the far recesses of their bedroom closet to layer during the day. Their flashlight had lost it’s star charge hours ago, and candles…he hardly remembered they existed, much less how to use them.

“I’m so lost, Rhizah.”

He could hear the smile in her voice. “But you’re not, my love. You’re right here, next to me.” A pause. “Let’s just take it one moment at a time.” She touched his shoulder. “I’m hungry. Let’s raid the pantry and do something creative for dinner.”

Was it even dinner time? He had no way of knowing, without his star-powered watch or digital star clock. He shoved away the panic again. “Like what?” Suddenly her touch was gone from his hand and the panic broke through. “Rhizah?!”

“Easy, babe.”

He quieted, took a deep breath. He heard the creak of the chair as her weight lifted from it. He discerned the creak of the floor a few feet to his left as she moved toward the kitchen. After many, many years of describing the world to her, Rhizah was now going to have to help him navigate this lightless world the way she had for so long.

“What sounds good?” The pantry door slid open with a familiar squeak.

“Meat. Hot meat and potatoes and biscuits.”

Rhizah laughed, and the sound was a balm to ease the uncertainty in his spirit. “How about canned tuna on crackers…” he heard the crackle of the wrapper, then, after a moment, detected the whoosing ‘pop’ of the fridge. Rhizah scrounged around in the fruit and veggie drawers, feeling what was in the bins. “…with spinach salad? Might as well use up what’s in the fridge before it goes bad. We’ve got some tomatoes and cucumbers you can cut up.”

The last time he’d had tuna was when he was small, maybe six or seven. It wasn’t a moose roast or baked turkey, but it would do. He wasn’t exactly a fan of salad, but he didn’t like to be wasteful, and it was healthy for him. Honestly, he wasn’t sure how he’d do cutting vegetables without seeing them, but he would try. Carefully. Very carefully.

He got up from his cushioned chair. “I’m coming, Rhizah.” One day at a time, until time ran out.

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Katie Jo Jayne

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Bad News

Alright, I have bad new. 🙁 If you’re seeing this, then there aren’t enough stories in the genre you want to check out! I know, it’s sad. But, there’s good news. What is it? YOU can write a story! Yes, you! Everyone has a story in them. No, we might not be the best at first, but we’re humans and we’re made to learn. Made to adapt. Made to create.

If I was able to convince you, then please be sure to check out the page Write With Us and start going through the stories you’ve already written! 😀

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