The Remnant

By George H. Edgley

The 8th Century B.C. is a tumultuous period of history dominated by the great Empire of Assyria. When Assyria invades Israel, Japhlet, a leader of a small troop, and Gevirah, an Assyrian woman fleeing from the harem of Assyrian King Shalmaneser, find love in this raging cauldron of uncertainty. To save his own life, Israeli King Hoshea ultimately deserts his army in a futile attempt to flee to Egypt. Japhlet, his men and Gevirah remain trapped inside the besieged City of Samaria, facing death or the horrors of slavery. Somehow, they must escape from the city and reach Judah, their only haven. Standing in their way, eager to annihilate them, is the elite of the Assyrian Army!

• Language: English
• Publisher: George H. Edgley
• Release date: Dec 4, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310453519

George H. Edgley

George H. EdgleyAuthor BiographyI was born and raised in Washington State. Following graduation from high school,I enlisted in the United States Marine Corps and served with the First Marine Divisionin Korea during the Korean War. I advanced to the rank of Sergeant andwas trained in and assigned to Intelligence work. I was honorably dischargedafter the end of the war, when my enlistment was up.After my military service, I attended junior college, whereI obtained an Associate Degree in Engineering. I then attendedand graduated from the University of Washington withBaccalaureate Degrees in Physics(BS) and in Mathematics(BA).Employed by The Boeing Company as an Associate (Mid-Level) engineer,I worked in a variety of positions, most notably in Operations Analysisdoing war gaming, research testing and writing for contract proposal teamsand writing test manuals for various products related to missile programs.During this time, I was a candidate for the State Legislature,but lost narrowly to the Governor's son. I then decided I wasnot meant to be a politician. Later, I worked for the City of Seattlein Personnel/Civil Service, where I wrote and administered original examinationsfor employment testing of managers, engineers and skilled trades applicantsand performed job classification analyses for the same groups.During my years in Washington State, I hunted deer and elk and fishedthroughout the State and was involved in casual shooting sports,which I continue to enjoy. I maintained an interest in military history,primarily Civil War and World War II.Because of my employment background with the City of Seattle,I served on the Civil Service Commission for the ClallamCounty, Washington, Sheriff's office for several yearsfollowing my retirement. I currently am living in Cottonwood,Arizona, where my wife and I enjoy researching theNative American culture and history of the Southwest.-George H. Edgley

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Kfar stood in the partial shadow of the ancient wall, his eyes narrowed against the blinding glare, his leathered brow wrinkled as he gazed through the open gate at the desolate, shimmering landscape. Perhaps the Prophet Hosea is right. Perhaps God is punishing the nation with this heat and drought and planning to destroy it. I have never seen it so dry before and the heat -- it is almost unbearable. The crops wither in the fields and the grapes dry up. Hosea says it is because the nation is so evil and full of drunkards, but no one listens to him. I wonder.

It was mid-morning in the Israeli border town of Engannim and, already, the sun was beating upon the land with a savage vengeance, sending the temperature soaring. The cloudless sky promised even greater heat later in the day. By noon, all commerce would grind to a halt as everyone, even the animals, sought some form of relief. It had become a common sight -- people unwilling to leave their shelters to toil in the fields, sheep crying hoarsely through parched throats, cattle standing with heads hung low and dogs panting breathlessly, all clearly yearning for a mouthful of cool water or some respite from the heat. In this desolate land, few features existed that could provide even a small patch of shade for a modicum of relief.

The wind seldom found its way to Engannim, seldom cooled the air here on the northern fringe of the Carmel uplands. The ascent of Gur, that narrow defile through the uplands to the Plain of Dothan, would not allow the cool ocean breezes to pass and bring relief. So the land and its occupants baked in the sun.

Kfar ignored the two sentries standing at ease on either side of the gate and tried to spit, but there was no saliva in his dry mouth. How long have I been here, how many years have I wasted in this god-forsaken land? It is only spring and the land is parched, the wells low, the forage nearly gone. What will it be like when the heat of summer hits? It has not always been so. When I first arrived here, the land, while not green, at least had some forage for the sheep and the water was usually cool. It was never this hot. Would I could join Japhlet and go with him to Samaria, leave this hell. It is not cool in Samaria, but, at least, it is not as hot as it is here. I have never seen such a dry spell in all my years. If Hosea is right, then -- I don’t even want to think of it.

He turned to scan the virtually deserted square. It, too, was desolate, the soil covered with a thick layer of dust, the weathered coating on the stone walls crumbling and chipped away in large areas. Generally, merchants would set up their tents around the perimeter at the base of the walls to sell their wares. Today, there were none. The merchants knew no one would come to buy in this heat, so why bother to even attempt to sell anything. Besides, very few merchants had anything to sell. The fields were all parched, the crops withered and not worth the effort to harvest them. Little in the way of wares to sell found their way to Engannim from the more prosperous areas of the nation. It has always been so. Engannim was considered the end of the earth, so to speak.

The stone wall that surrounded the well stood near the center of the square, opposite the gate. It, too, seemed to be crumbling from age and the heat. Two women were by the well drawing water. Ah, a sip of cool water would dampen the dust in my throat, relieve the thirst burning my bowels. I must draw some before I return to my office. Once Japhlet leaves, I will do so.

Kfar eyed the women carefully, tried to swallow the cottony fluid in his mouth. The faces of the women were hidden, but he knew who they were. One was Khuldah, the other the new slave girl Khuldah had recently acquired. Khuldah was a bitch, a prostitute he had slept with many times -- he and almost every soldier in Engannim. Every one except Japhlet, that is. Kfar shrugged. Shortly after Japhlet arrived, he had offered to pay for Japhlet’s visit to Khuldah. He had noted that Japhlet was extremely bitter and tense and angry. He thought that a night with Khuldah would help him relax. Japhlet refused the offer. That was Japhlet’s business, of course. Even a prostitute had to earn a living, however, and with only two in the town, business usually was good.

His gaze drifted over the figure of the new slave girl who was standing beside Khuldah. He had already forgotten her name, but names were not important for prostitutes. Customers simply either asked for Khuldah or, if she was busy with a client, for the new girl.

The young slave had a nice body and her form was evident through her clothing. She had come to Engannim only a few weeks earlier, forced into the profession of a whore by her situation. She was attractive, young and tender -- he had enjoyed her only two nights ago. She had done well, but was somewhat unprofessional in her performance. It actually was a pleasant change and she would soon learn. It was most unfortunate that such a pretty young woman had to take up the profession because she was left penniless when her parents died. But, that was the way things worked sometimes. Life was not always fair.

His eyes moved to Khuldah, drifted slowly over her body. He could discern the shape of her hips as she stretched to lift the bucket of water. A grin crossed his face. Aye, Khuldah is a professional, well versed in the techniques of pleasing a man. She is smart enough not to talk too much and is warm and soft in the right places. Her kisses are like a rich, sweet wine and her caresses are exciting and planned to arouse a man. But, in this heat, both of us would be sticky with sweat. Her nipples would be damp and our bodies would stick together as we moved. So what? I would still enjoy lying with her.

He saw a movement in the shadows and turned. It was Japhlet. He hated to lose Japhlet. Seemed like the few officers who overcame their problems eventually were transferred. Yet he always remained. Those that stayed? They were the troublemakers, the malcontents, the ones who had not resolved their personal problems. That they had problems was why they had been sent to Engannim. Japhlet certainly had problems when he had been exiled here seven years earlier. Engannim was a post where those who could not adjust were sent and from where few were ever recalled.

When Japhlet had been assigned to Engannim, the man had harbored an extreme bitterness and anger toward King Hoshea and even toward his God. Japhlet had been difficult to deal with at that time. The man groused, argued and complained about every assignment and bitched continuously. Clearly, he wanted to be out of the army and free of his commitment. Kfar often had wondered why Japhlet had not deserted. Yet, Japhlet had never spoken to anyone about what had caused his bitterness. It was still a mystery.

Kfar sighed. He knew Japhlet came from a long line of professional officers, that he was a good man at heart, that he basically had character and integrity. The two of them had spent many hours talking and considering the facts of life in general, the fallacies that events, loves, and overall circumstances of life always turned out well. Slowly, Japhlet had come to realize that life sometimes dealt a man a rather harsh lesson and that bitterness did nothing but make it worse. As he began to overcome his bitterness, Kfar assigned special duties to him that would keep him occupied and take his mind off his problems. The few times the Prophet Hosea came to speak in the square had also helped, for Japhlet believed in the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, as did Hosea. When free of his duties, Japhlet always went to hear Hosea speak. Perhaps that was what had helped the most -- the visits and talks Japhlet had with Hosea.

Despite the fact that Engannim was where all the malcontents and troublemakers were sent, there were good men among them. Men like Japhlet, Hadar and Rafah. But they were good men before they were exiled to Engannim. Sure, life had presented them with some problems.

Kfar snorted. Who didn’t have problems? No one lives free of difficulties. Life would be extremely boring if one did not have problems to resolve. Japhlet appears to have overcome his problem, but Hadar and Rafah -- they are good men, but are still bitter and angry. Perhaps --.

He shrugged. Even I have problems. I would love to be assigned to a garrison where the weather is better and where I could command a troop of good men. Then I could use my knowledge of military tactics and impart it to my men. If I stay here, as I assuredly will, I need a larger garrison and some good officers so the men can be trained for combat. I’d like to entice a few more prostitutes to the city so the men could enjoy more recreation. Then there’s the horrible, hot weather, the tax collector who no one likes and who refuses to raise taxes, the few people who want to leave more than I do, the merchants who struggle to make a poor living and the farmers who cannot raise a decent crop. There is a lack of good, fresh food from the dried up fields, a lack of good wine for me and my men to drink, the status of the city walls and, of course, the gate.

He glanced at the gate. It was in dire need of repair. A good blow from a battering ram would knock it from its sockets. It didn’t matter. There was no need to fear an attack here. No army of any size would ever attempt to invade the land through the Ascent. If one did, however, the few men of the garrison could do little about it. The city would be taken within a day by even a mediocre army. Hell, the walls would crumble from fear alone and the gate would simply disintegrate if an enemy so much as glared at it. He knew that and so did his men. The simple fact was -- no one really cared. Well, that was not entirely true. A few of his officers felt that, if war were to come, some of the good men might want to fight. It was an intriguing thought. The problem was that they were so few. Most of the troops had fallen into a state of lethargy and had to be prodded to even perform simple tasks and assignments.

As an exercise, he had directed Japhlet to prepare plans for a defense of the Ascent. The plans were well thought out and logical, the customary concepts of static defense abandoned in favor of an active and offensive defense. Japhlet had written that he believed it best to meet the enemy in the Ascent itself, to fight where a few men could effectively stop a large army. It just might work. With adequate warning, the troop could deploy in the Ascent and likely could succeed in slowing or stopping a larger force. But the plan would never be needed.

Kfar knew that. He had commanded the garrison at Engannim for many years. In that time, there had been several wars, including the invasion of Tiglath-Pileser seven years earlier. Not once had any enemy attempted to use the Ascent. There was no reason to expect any to do so now. If they did -- well, perhaps he could mount some sort of defense. As Commander, it was his responsibility to at least try.

Kfar watched Japhlet approach, returned the salute and smiled slightly. His eyes evaluated Japhlet’s uniform, noted it was, as usual, neat. The tour of duty at Engannim had not ruined this officer as it had so many others. Not even the extensive heat would cause Japhlet to appear as anything but the well-dressed and neat officer which he was. Even the small knapsack he wore was neatly placed and tied shut.

I hate to see you go, Japhlet, my friend, he stated, meeting Japhlet’s gaze.

And I, Kfar. We have passed many days together and have talked long hours, experienced much. You have helped me beyond what words can express.

You have a good career ahead of you, Kfar smiled, ignoring Japhlet’s comment, This is a good assignment. It will go well on your record.

I don’t know if I shall enjoy being in Samaria, so close to the King and his staff. I also do not know how I will stand being so close to the spot where Toviyah was executed. If I am assigned to defend the East Gate -- I don’t think I can take it. I still yearn for her, still love her even after seven long years. The memory is so strong my insides shudder and cringe even to think of returning there. I fear I will break down and lose my poise if I --.

You will do well, Kfar was saying.

Thank you, sir.

You will be under the watchful eye of Nashon, the Chief of Staff, Kfar stated, his eyes darting to the other soldiers who had wandered into the square and were now lounging not far away. He lowered his voice so they could not hear. Watch him. He is truly a serpent and is not to be trusted. He does not appreciate competence and is not a good officer. Why the King chose him for Chief of Staff is beyond me. In the last conflict, he was merely a second-rate field commander. So, watch him carefully. He will betray you just to gain a better status for himself.

Your words have always been wise, Kfar, and I will heed them.

Tsidqenu is trustworthy, Kfar nodded, he is under Nashon, but he is a better officer. He will stand by you when you need him. He paused and glanced around the square again. I will miss you, Japhlet. Perhaps we shall never meet again on this earth. The trends do not bode well. It appears there is another war coming shortly.

I know it for a fact, Japhlet agreed, but who knows what is in the future. If not, I shall carry fond memories of our friendship. Perhaps --. He grinned and shook Kfar’s extended hand, his eyes somewhat misty. He liked this old man, this gruff commander who took him under his wing and taught him many valuable lessons, including how to reconcile his bitterness. He would miss him and the talks and the fellowship.

If only Kfar would believe in the Lord. I have told him the basis of my belief and the meaning of the Holy writings. He has heard the prophets speak and, yet, he does not seem interested. How I long to speak once again of the matter. But, it has all been said and there is no reason to repeat it.

I doubt the Assyrians will come this way should they attack, Kfar stated with a shrug, they are not prone to take chances. But, if they do, I have your plan of defense. It is unorthodox, but well thought out. Shalmaneser would not expect such a defense.

I hope, then, Japhlet smiled, that it works as well in application as it does on parchment.

Do not worry, friend Japhlet. I would not even consider the strategy did I not believe in it. I‘m not certain if I have the right men to carry it out, but, if they do come this way, I suspect we will try to stop them or slow them down some. The sentries I have posted in the Ascent will give me ample warning of any attack. You may be assured we will fight the enemy vigorously and make him pay to come through the defile. We will not be easily defeated.

Japhlet nodded, his gaze drifting to Khuldah and her young associate at the well. The two women were pleasant to look at -- about the only pleasant thing in Engannim except for the companionship of Kfar. He wondered how they managed to make a living at their profession in such a forsaken city. Yet, he knew they were the only prostitutes in the city and, perhaps, that was why they seemed to do well.

The new slave girl raised her eyes, met his gaze and smiled. Japhlet nodded and returned the smile. He looked away, met Kfar’s gaze, his eyes reflecting the sadness he felt.

Shalom, Kfar. May the Lord protect you.

The Lord, Kfar laughed, his leathery face crinkling, will more likely damn me and send me to Hades, if I am not there already. With this heat, I suspect Hell is nearby. Perhaps Engannim is in Hades. And if, as you say, the Lord is all knowing, then my damnation has been assured. He paused, a self-conscious grin covering his face. Take care, Japhlet, he stated, raising his hand in a salute.

Farewell, Kfar. Japhlet returned the salute, turned and walked through the gate without a backward glance. There were many things he wanted to say to Kfar. But what could be said? There were no words to adequately express the thoughts racing through his mind or the emotions tugging at his heart. He liked this old man. Kfar knew it. Nothing need be said about it.

He carried little in the way of personal possessions. A professional soldier accumulated virtually nothing. What he had obtained had been sent to his mother in Samaria. Now he was going to Samaria. It would be nice to see his mother again. But he still dreaded returning to the location where his life was devastated and his bitterness against both King Hoshea and the Lord almost destroyed his career.

The assignment had come without warning. Almost as if providence decreed it. There was no real reason for him to be promoted to the command of a troop. Other officers had more seniority and experience. Nashon had always preferred officers who follow his lead and do not suggest different strategies. He certainly did not fit into that mold. Perhaps it was Tsidqenu who arranged his assignment. But why? He did not know the man.

He glanced at the thick layer of fine dust covering the road. The entire land was parched. No rain had fallen for several months and this was the rainy season.

About a hundred reeds from the city, he paused and glanced back. Kfar still stood by the gate. The man lifted his arm in salute and Japhlet returned it. Then Kfar moved away and only the sentries stood by the gate. One or two travelers were leaving the city behind him, one driving a herd of sheep.

Japhlet smiled. I must be moving lest I end up breathing the dust of the sheep. It is a long enough journey without having to suffer that.

CHAPTER TWO

The fertile bottomland was blessed with an abundance of growth. It was valuable land Uballit had inherited from his father who had been the beneficiary of a lengthy family line. For generations, the parcel of land had provided for the family well.

Uballit scanned the level plain, his eyes reflecting the sorrow he felt in his soul. He reached up and stroked the clipped beard that covered his chin and part of his weathered face. It, like his hair, was tinged with touches of gray. He loved this parcel of land that had cared for him so well. It was good land, perhaps even the best in all of Assyria. He walked slowly and carefully, savoring his last trip across the spongy soil. Ahead, the stone cairns where his parents were buried rose above the rich, green grass, the stones partially overgrown with weeds he had not bothered to remove. And, beyond them, the cairns of the other ancestors. They, also, were overgrown with weeds. He knew he should have taken better care of the cairns, but, with a large family, there was little time for such things.

It had been a difficult decision to make, a trying decision. The land, the fates -- they had been good to him in spite of the many wars his Assyrian Kings had waged. Life, in general, had been good. Nearly fifty years of it tilling the land and raising cattle. One earns a few gray hairs from such a life.

He stared at the piles of rocks that marked the cairns. When I leave, someone will take over the land, come in and tear down these monuments and scatter the stones or use them to build a wall or a building. Perhaps even plant crops here. So be it -- they are not much in the way of monuments anyway. I wonder -- what would my ancestors say about my decision?

He rubbed his beard and pondered the thought for a moment. Perhaps they would be displeased. Perhaps they would argue that the land should be held at all costs. Of course, they could not know of the oppression being visited upon the nation these last few years by the new King, Shalmaneser. They could not be aware of the outrageous taxes, the outright theft of property by a government madly and insanely pursuing yet another war. Nor could they understand the evil engulfing the land -- vile evil that they would not have tolerated in their day.

No, my ancestors left a different land, a more benign land. They have gone to a different place, perhaps a better one, perhaps not. I cannot worry about displeasing them now. Wherever they are, they will not care what I do with the land.

His eyes moved to the distant hill just outside the city of Asshur, to the gleaming walls of the temple of Asherah. The sunlight sparkled brightly on its gold-covered dome. Only yesterday, a man from the temple -- a priest, he said, but more likely a dastardly pervert -- had come to his abode to inquire about Batrunah. Young and pretty women were needed in the temple and the man offered to purchase Batrunah for a sizable sum. In fact, the man was even interested in Jasim. Young boys were also in demand and drew even a higher price.

The mere thought of his daughter or his youngest being taken to the temple angered him. He had heard about the activities there -- mass sexual orgies, torture, bestiality and homosexuality, among other things. He had no use for these things or for those who practiced them. Such things had been going on for many years, yet it seemed as if more and more people were going to the temple each week. It was not a good omen.

Just the fact that the man -- the priest -- came by worried him. Orijon, his neighbor to the north, had fathered two lovely daughters about Batrunah’s age. They had disappeared not two weeks ago -- simply vanished on the way home from the marketplace. Orijon was heartbroken and suspected they had been kidnapped and taken to the temple. However, the authorities said they could do nothing -- in fact, they refused to do anything unless Orijon presented them with some evidence. The fact the priest from the temple had inquired three days earlier proved nothing. A mere coincidence, they said, but they asked the priest about it anyway. Naturally, the priest denied any connection between his visit and the disappearance of the two girls. Did the authorities actually think he would admit kidnapping the two girls?

That was how the authorities operated these days and, understandably, Uballit was concerned. There was little or no respect for the laws of the land. Crime and corruption were rampant and the authorities simply looked the other way. Likely they, also, went to the rituals at the temple and participated in them. So why should they do anything to curb those activities?

He would not let anyone take his daughter or his youngest without first killing him. In fact, he had drawn his knife in anger when the so-called priest made the offer to purchase his daughter. That was a mistake. If the man went to the authorities -- others had been arrested for doing less. A man was not supposed to react so and use a knife or any other weapon to defend himself or his family. That was considered assault by the authorities and was dealt with harshly.

There were other reasons to leave Asshur, of course. Haran, his eldest, was at the age where the military would call him. With Shalmaneser preparing for war, Haran would soon have to go and he didn’t want to serve in the military. Haran was, truly, a decent, soft-spoken lad and somewhat withdrawn. He was more the thinking, creative type than the fighting kind.

In fact, Mikail, the second son, who was too young now, actually wanted to go in Haran’s place. Mikail, from the time he was born, was a daring type who often got himself in trouble. He was very much the fighter and the adventurer and seemed to fear nothing. That much was very obvious. The two boys were quite different. Then, there was the matter of Gevirah’s status.

She had been claimed by the King and ordered to join his harem. Shalmaneser sought her for her beauty, clearly lusting for her. She had resisted when the King‘s emissaries came for her, of course, but to no avail. Kings simply carried too much authority and power and the emissaries were not about to let her get away lest their heads roll. So she had no choice but to go with them. Certainly, they would have taken her by force if necessary. Then, when given the opportunity and assisted by the other wives, she escaped from the harem and returned home.

He smiled. Contrary to custom, he wanted to allow his daughters -- Gevirah was the only one old enough now -- to select their mates. Gevereth’s father -- his Father-in-law -- had permitted her to choose. She was a wonderful woman -- strong, helpful, devoted and loving. He could not be more pleased with her. So he wanted his daughters to have the same opportunity to select their men.

If he remained in Asshur, Gevirah would have to return to the King’s harem eventually. Then she would not be able to choose her man. That was not good. Kings should not have so much power that they could ruin a woman’s life by demanding they join their harem.

Of course, because she had run away from the harem, it might go badly for not only Gevirah, but for the rest of the family. All of them might be executed despite the fact it was the others in the harem that helped Gevirah escape. Or Shalmaneser could send the children to the temple to be tortured and -- that thought was too horrible to even contemplate.

So, he had sufficient cause to migrate. The oppression, the dangers to his family, the well being of his children. But to where? Egypt sounded good, or, perhaps, Judah. Israel was much like Assyria, from what others had said. It didn’t sound like a good place to go, especially with Shalmaneser rumored to be ready to invade it. There were few other places one could travel to. Most lands were either too far away or too close to Assyria. Besides, almost all of the nations that bordered Assyria paid tribute to Shalmaneser and, if they knew Gevirah had been claimed by the King, they would turn her over to him simply to preserve their favored nation status.

He walked slowly toward his large tent, paused a good distance away beside a large rock. Close enough to hear any call, he was yet far enough from the tent to have some privacy. He glanced toward the kitchen tent -- Gevereth and the girls were working and Jasim spotted him and waved, then hurried toward him.

The ground was warm, the heat of the sun pleasant on his face, bright even though his eyes were closed. It was said to be hot in Egypt, even so in Judah. The climate here was temperate, but it was dry in the back land away from the river. Still, weather was only one factor that influenced life. If a man was happy and content in his soul, the physical conditions outside did not matter. Even so, living in a foreign land would necessarily bring changes.

He heard Jasim’s footsteps and opened his eyes, smiled at the lad, who waited respectfully to be recognized.

Yes, Jasim?

May I sit beside you, Father?

Of course, my son.

He looked affectionately at his youngest. The child was strong and had a good frame. He would grow into a large man. A good man, for he had the manners to go with his size.

He reflected for a moment on his six children. The boys -- Haran was the eldest, the first born; Mikail the second and Jasim the youngest. The boys were all respectful, honest and hard working lads. He had never had any trouble with them. Occasionally, the two older boys fought as brothers were wont to do at times. They always reconciled their differences.

The girls. Gevirah was the oldest, was older than Haran by two years. A raven-haired beauty with soft, fair skin, she was much like her mother and was looked upon by all who saw her as the most beautiful woman in Asshur. That was why the King chose her. After Gevirah came Batrunah, who was a year younger than Mikail. She was not as slender as Gevirah, not as pretty in some ways, yet possessed a rare beauty of her own. When she matured, she would be comparable to Gevirah. Then there was Zakiyah. She was still a child, in that stage of life where nothing was serious or important. But, with two older sisters, she was learning fast.

He looked down at Jasim. The boy was snuggled close and he could feel the warmth from the lad’s body against his leg. It was comforting. The boys admired and respected him as much as he admired and respected them. That was important. There should be a mutual respect between father and son.

He raised his eyes, scanned the near-level field, searching for Haran and Mikail. They had left earlier to bring the herd closer to the tent for the night. A few of the animals had been stolen or had strayed off the night before. Near the tents, they would be safe. Besides, they would be leaving tomorrow. He saw the dust rising from the herd and knew the boys were acting properly.

Behind him, he heard Batrunah and Zakiyah burst into laughter and giggling. They were preparing an extra ration of bread in the kitchen. Jasim stirred, his little head twisting around to peer toward the tent.

You are curious, my son?

Yes, Father, Jasim nodded, I wish to know why they are laughing.

Then go. They may not tell you -- what they laugh at may be something only women would find funny.

Would it not also be funny to men?

Perhaps. But, often, women laugh at different things.

I do not understand, Father.

Then go and discover it.

Thank you, Father.

Uballit sighed when Jasim scrambled to his feet and ran toward the tent. The boy was just beginning to realize the difference between boys and girls. Soon his training must start. It would be difficult. Even when settled in one place, the training of a young lad was a trying period. Jasim would have to be trained while they were traveling and then Zakiyah would require it.

It was painful to think of leaving Assyria. The journey south to Judah or Egypt was long and perilous. Especially if the King was determined to pursue them. Yet, he felt it necessary to go. Perhaps the King would not miss Gevirah for several weeks and, possibly, he would not realize they had left for some time. That would enable them to get a good head start.

He glanced up as Gevereth approached and stopped a few feet away. Yes, my woman? His eyes took in her beauty, which always had fascinated him. Her long, black hair was now streaked here and there with strands of gray and her skin was beginning to show a few wrinkles, but she was as beautiful as she had been when he first beheld her.

We have completed the chores early today, Gevereth announced.

Then please sit with me a moment, Uballit smiled, shifting his body to give her room to lean against the rock.

When do we leave? Gevereth asked with a sigh as she eased into a sitting position beside him.

Tomorrow at sunrise.

I shall be sad, my husband. I have lived long in this land, and many, many years here with you.

I know. This parcel of land has been good to us. We have raised our family here. But the times are changing and the good people have become so few.

It is not as it once was. But, is it better elsewhere? Are people any better in Judah or Egypt?

I know not for certain. Yet, could it be worse? Those who have traveled to these nations say their land is prosperous and the rulers fair and just. Shalmaneser cannot be said to be fair and just. Soon, he will come to take Gevirah from us again, perhaps have her executed for running away. The other women in the harem will not be able to help her again. He will probably execute the rest of us, too, for not taking her back. But, even if he doesn’t execute us, he will soon have the nation in a war and Haran with him.

Gevirah was right to run away. She does not belong in a harem, Gevereth stated strongly, ignoring his comments about a war.

So she was right. She still might be executed. One does not run away from a King‘s harem. And being right doesn‘t always protect one.

Perhaps he won’t miss her. He has a lot of other women in his harem. Besides, I have heard it said in the marketplace that he plans to make war -- likely on Israel.

I fear it to be true, my woman, Uballit sighed, realizing she had not listened to his earlier comment, That is why we must leave now. Were Shalmaneser to make war on Israel soon, it would be impossible for us to journey anywhere except by the King’s Highway. That route is plagued by hardships and swarming with bandits. But, then, any route will be dangerous if the King decides to pursue us to get Gevirah back.

We will be ready to leave and we will face the dangers as a family, as we always have, Gevereth asserted, there is strength in our family union.

Uballit nodded, but his eyes were watching the approaching rider. The rider wore the red uniform of the King’s Guards and it could not bode well. He had a premonition it was the King’s emissary out looking for Gevirah. He stood as the uniformed rider neared the tents and the man saw him.

Hail, Officer of the King’s Army, Uballit greeted when the man guided his horse closer.

Hail. You are Uballit?

I am.

"Your daughter, the