The Reconciling

By Raymond Smyth

A novel about the destruction of Jerusalem by Nebuchadnezzer and the subsequent events that brought a throne to Ireland. The reconciling of two different families separated by thousands of years and thousands of miles. Through many and various adventures our hero is brought through battles, wars, sea sickness and the establishment of a new family in a foreign land. Conscripted into Pharaoh's army as a youth he makes a name for himself and suffers many indignities before setting out on the journey of his life with a party of important refugees and finds love along the way

• Language: English
• Publisher: Raymond Smyth
• Release date: Jan 11, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310007217

Book preview

Chapter One.

The sun had gone down long ago and the moon now ruled the night. It was chill, sharp and clear, but the shadows thrown by the cold blue moonlight were deep inky black. Fercher shivered and felt the goose bumps on his arm. He pulled his thin cotton tunic closer, but it did little to warm him. The cold stone of the battlement wall felt icy and rough against his back and he wished fervently that he was home in bed.

The pending approach of a Babylonian army had leant a strange foreboding to the atmosphere; a strange, heavy and peculiar feeling of impending disaster highlighted by the dark, black clouds that now and then veiled the moon. The city was, quiet, still, silent, and even the guards walked softly on the city’s ancient walls, as if fearing the very sound of their own footfalls. The moon and stars shone brightly in the midnight sky when revealed by the passing blackness of the clouds and painted the scene in a mysterious washed out blue. The whole battlements and courtyard were steeped in shadows of a deep mysterious black.

Fercher hugged the archway where the dark shadows hid his presence. He watched the guard in the nearby tower etched against the sky. He knew the guard was tired, leaning on his spear. etched against the steely moonlight, eyes heavy and drifting. Fercher braced himself to dash for the other side of the old cobbled square, where the great shadow of the wall itself offered a cloak of safety and a place from which he could easily view his goal.

The guard moved slowly to the western part of the castellated turret and turned his attention, wearily, to the ridge of hills to the north from where, he knew, the threat would more than likely come. As he stared northwards, a slight wind caught his helmet plume and whipped his eyes. Irritated, he cursed and repositioned his spear on his shoulder. Fercher watched him and conjectured that the guard would probably welcome the sight of the approaching army, rather than this interminable waiting. Fercher tended to agree, although he knew the reality would be much worse than the anticipation. He remembered, wryly, the last Babylonian incursion.

While still caught up in his contemplation, Fercher, thoughtlessly moved the precious bag of food, which hung under his arm, to a more convenient position behind his hip and made ready to spring forward. Somewhere a dog barked and the guard swung back and looked down from his vantage point into the cobbled square. The starlight glinted on the metal of his helmet as he leaned over the granite parapet. He was nervous because of the approaching enemy, and now suddenly alert. Detachments of the Babylonian army were already encamped around the city to cut off supplies and people were starving. Fercher, shivered, he would have to be very careful.

Quickly flattening himself against the buttress, he held his breath. He had purposely removed all metal objects from his person, so that no tell-tale glint would be noticed, as he silently glided through the empty streets on shoeless feet. He wore a dark tunic which came up over one shoulder and was belted around his middle with a thick leather belt. The belt was without a buckle and was fastened by an intricate series of leather thongs, the type used by soldiers to guard against sword thrusts. Underneath he was naked, except for the cloth wound round his loins and the bag of food which hung from his shoulder on a leather strap. He was young and agile, in the first bloom of youth, but he was not inexperienced. He had been in this situation many times in the last few weeks. He knew every nook and cranny of the courtyard, he knew the disposition of the guards and even their habits. He knew that the guards had relaxed a little now that the Babylonians had settled for a holding action. Nothing would happen till the grand army arrived.

The guard, now satisfied, turned away and Fercher made his move. Like an arrow from a bow, he launched himself across the square, keeping clear of the brightest patches and running on his toes as swift and silent as any dancer that graced a pagan temple. Unscathed and unnoticed, he gained the safety of the jet black stain which inched slowly across the square as the moon sank. He paused to catch his breath; a guard he had not noticed coughed harshly high to his right which momentarily filled Fercher with fear and made him resolve to be more vigilant. He could so easily have been seen. Breathless, but thankful, he lifted grateful eyes to the sky. Thank you, God, he muttered under his breath.

He could now see his objective - the pit outside Jonathon’s house. The thick iron grill glinted dully in the moonlight and seemed to ride on a shadowy pillow, the pillow could only be the mouth of the dark pit that contained Jeremiah, his master. It lay squarely in a bright patch of moonlight and he knew he would have to wait for quite some time till the moon had sunk further in the night sky and the shadow reached the edge of the pit.

He settled himself in a dark corner, sat down on his heels and put his chin on his knees. He was careful to select a spot where he could clearly see that awful pit and waited for the shadow to reach it. He pondered on the grill and wondered if it could be broken open, but he knew that was impossible. His thoughts drifted to its construction and the blacksmith who had made it. Those old workmen had really made things to last, he thought.

The grill consisted of twelve thick strips of iron, which went from east to west across the top of the pit, and twelve strips which went north and south. The criss crossed iron bars left eight inch square holes in the covering grating. It was through those holes he would have to pass the food, all the time praying that his master was still alive and in good health.

Suddenly a guard called to a fellow watchman from his vantage point, reporting nothing of consequence, but ensuring they were all awake. The advancing army was still too far away to disturb anyone and the Babylonians who surrounded Jerusalem were quite content to wait patiently, their fires twinkling in the darkness..

The enemy army may turn back or even decide to attack an easier target, Fercher thought, it had happened before, maybe it could happen again and all this suffering would blow away. Fercher just wished his master would be a little less sure that destruction was upon them.

It had been for this uncompromising message of impending doom that Jeremiah, his master, had been incarcerated in the stinking pit which Fercher now gazed upon. He knew his master stood there at the bottom of that dark dungeon up to his knees in mud and filth in the heat of the day and in the chill of the night. How had he been able to stand it and yet be so cheerful? Surely God was with him, the young man thought.

Fercher moved his feet to make himself more comfortable and breathed deeply of the cold night air. His eyes searched the whole square for any suspicious movement and even tried to pierce the deep shadows. He was well aware of the fate that awaited him should he be caught. The very thought of it made him shiver and he pulled his tunic round his shoulder hugging himself against the sharp chill of the night. What would be the end of this madness, he mused. Would his master be left here to die, or would the king relent and let him loose? Surely someone as well-respected as his master, obviously approved of by God, could not be so badly treated; could not be so shunned by everyone? It was the sheer injustice of what had happened that drove Fercher to take such risks. He had never contemplated acting against the king's wishes before, but now it seemed he had no choice. He must either follow the directives of his king and disown his master, or follow his conscience and his master. He knew it was not a decision that he would agonise over; it could not be otherwise. He knew no other family than his master. He was without father and mother or any family. Someone had left him at Jeremiah’s door and he had been cared for there all his life. He owed his life to his master and what he was doing now was just a little to repay the kindness he had known.

Somehow he knew this was a struggle between his God and his king and he was determined to follow his God, even if it seemed destruction was the only end.

He had known his master all his life, and was totally convinced that he walked with God. He knew when Jeremiah spoke in that prophetic voice, which he sometimes did not do for days at a time, that it was because he had a revelation from God. He had never known his master to be wrong and he was sure he was right now, even though the thought of it made his stomach wrench with fear. Why had the king not listened while there was still time and now Jeremiah had said there was no way out. It was too late. They had all been given over to destruction.

Many times he had sat in the great council with his master, when the old man had delivered his warnings. He had watched while tempers flared and threats were made. He dared not caution his master but, oh how he had wished that he could have made him say things just a little softer, just bent a little to the prevailing view. But that was not in Jeremiah’s nature. He said that which he thought God had sent him to say and cared not for what the people, or the king, thought.

Only he among the prophets had foretold doom. All the other prophets had promised help from Egypt, or various other ways, and that God would intervene to save the city as he had done so often before. Jeremiah stood alone, unswerving in his conviction that destruction was now inevitable.

The king and the great council had chosen the more popular message of the other prophets and turned against his master. It had become more and more acrimonious, until the old prophet had been condemned to die in the pit.

The whole city knew of the fate of the prophet, who many held in high esteem, even feared. But the people also had chosen to believe the more palatable and acceptable message. Fercher, however, was convinced if Jeremiah said it, then he would believe it, even if it did frighten him badly. His revere was broken when he noticed that the shadow had, by now, crept half way across the pit mouth and he could move soon.

Suddenly, with horror, he noticed that a young girl was standing by the pit mouth. His heart seemed to stop in his chest and he held his breath, a chill ran down his spine. Her head and shoulders were projecting from the shadow, as if she were standing waist deep in inky water. He had not heard nor seen her approach and he knew the guards had not seen her, or there would have been a commotion. Indeed, she was so slight and so difficult to see, that looking strangely blue in the moonlight, she seemed to blend into the granite background. Had she not moved so swiftly, he probably would not have seen her at all. She glanced quickly in each direction and then suddenly bent over the pit and disappeared into the shadow, as if she had ducked under the water.

Fercher stood stiff with amazement. He wondered was she friend or foe? If she was a foe, why was she acting so furtively? Maybe she was a friend, but if she was, he had never seen her before, he thought, but then, in this light, maybe he was mistaken? No, she was there alright and who knew what she was up to. What would a girl on her own be doing here at this time of night? If she was alone he could easily overpower her, but was she alone? Fercher's mind raced with many possibilities. What to do, what to do? Suddenly, for no particular reason, he decided that action was the best course he could take and committing himself to God he launched forward in a running crouch.

The young girl sprang up and spun round as she heard Fercher's rush. She was too late. Fercher clamped his hand over her mouth pre-empting any scream or shout of warning.

Who's there? came a strong, urgent and whispered voice from the darkness of the pit.

It is I, Fercher the lad whispered back. There is a girl here, but I have her.

Then let her go. She is a friend and not to be harmed.

Fercher released her instantly and he knew, even in the darkness, that there was hostility in her eyes as they met,.

Who are you? Fercher asked.

My name is Lillian, she spat and the tone of her voice would not allow Fercher to ask more. Who are you? She demanded imperiously.

I am Fercher and I have come to deliver food to my master.

Then do so quickly, Lillian commanded impatiently, for he will be in need of it. She seemed very arrogant and Fercher was a little irked by her manner. Nevertheless, he knelt down and locating his master by the sound of his voice, dropped the small parcel and was rewarded by a cry of gratitude.

Suddenly, they heard the growing sounds of men approaching, it seemed like a large crowd and they were not hiding their approach. Fercher stiffened.

Come, come quickly, there is no time for explanations Lillian snapped and grabbed Fercher's hand.

Who's there? cried a voice from the wall. The guards were at the ready. Fercher froze and wondered if they had been spotted. Lillian pulled at his hand.

It is I, Ebedmelech the Ethiopian, Doorkeeper to the King, came a voice from the advancing band of men. They carried torches and were obviously not afraid of being discovered. Fercher relaxed a little, but hugged the large stone buttress much closer.

State your purpose! the guard shot back.

I have here the King's warrant, the first voice came back. Fercher and Lillian clung together in the shadows of an archway and waited, afraid to move. Hands and shoulders flat against the wall, they tried to make themselves as inconspicuous as possible. Fercher became aware of the heat of her body and the closeness of her presence.

Come forward and show that warrant, the guard ordered, sharply, as he was joined by more guard members. The whole square was quickly becoming a frightening hive of activity. Two men came forward from the newcomers and approached a contingent of guards who had climbed down from the wall, while above, their compatriots waited in reserve, bows at the ready.

The two groups converged and began to study a document by the light of a flickering torch. There was a low hum of conversation which Fercher could not hear. Fortunately, the torches were at the other side of the square or the presence of the two watchers would have been discovered..

Presently the guard seemed satisfied and they returned to their watch tower, assuring those who had remained on the wall that all was well.

Then, to Fercher's horror, the newcomers marched straight over the square to where Jeremiah was imprisoned and began to undo the locks to the cover of Jeremiah's dungeon. Fercher straightened and would have cried out, but Lillian held him back.

He will not be harmed, she whispered knowingly, holding her finger to his lips and wrenching his arm.

How do you know? Fercher hissed testily. She put a hand over his mouth and did not answer, but backed away further into the darkness. He was surprised that he had become aware of her scent, her femininity. The touch of her hand stayed on his lips even though it had been drawn away.

Fercher looked over to the mouth of the dungeon, but it was deep in the shadows and surrounded by a large group of men, he could not make out what was taking place. He dared not move and remained as still as he could. Even his breathing he kept as shallow and quiet as possible. Lillian gripped his hand tighter and he marvelled at the strength of her grip.

After nearly half an hour of constant, but subdued, activity the men left through the archway to the south of the square. The guards who had gathered to watch moved away and climbed back to their vigil on the wall, the excitement over for the night, they hoped.

Fercher waited anxiously till everything was still again. Then, Lillian forgotten, he ran, in a crouch, over to the lip of the dungeon. To his great dismay there was no reply to his urgent, but whispered, call. His master was either dead or gone. He let out a stifled cry of anguish. Then he felt Lillian’s hand on his arm. You’ll spoil everything if your are caught, she hissed between clenched teeth.

Come with me, she ordered sharply and pulled him towards the northern exit to the square.

Where are you taking me? Fercher whispered.

If you are caught here, she hissed, you will be dead in the morning. At least I have the King’s approval, if not his warrant. Keep quiet and don’t make a noise, we could easily be discovered. Fercher reluctantly decided that it was best to follow her orders even though they irritated him greatly. What did she mean the king’s approval, who was this annoying creature?

Chapter Two.

Fercher was totally amazed to find he was in the house of Zedekiah the king. Lillian, the girl he had just met, had brought him here hurriedly and had gained admittance furtively and without any fuss. The guards seemed to know she was coming. Who was this girl, this Lillian, Fercher thought, who can gain entrance into the house of the King? So much had happened in so little time that his head was spinning. The night seemed to be full of frantic but furtive activity.

Lillian had tetchily sworn him to silence during their stealthy journey through the sleeping city. He had followed, confused, afraid and numbed by the thought that his master may have been killed. Tears moistened his eyes as he sank onto the cushioned stool that Lillian indicated. Confused and worried he placed his head in his hands.

Are you crying? asked Lillian, now uncaring if she was overheard.

My master, he groaned. I do not know what has happened to him, but I am he must, could be dead, Fercher tried not to sob, but involuntarily did so.

Be still, said Lillian very sharply, your master is not dead.

Fercher looked at her in unbelief. How do you know?

He has been taken to the King, Lillian continued in exasperation. Now, stay here and do not move till I find out what is to be done with you, she said in a regal tone, throwing her head, so that her long hair swung grandly. If it was meant to impress. Fercher was indeed impressed. She disappeared through a curtained archway and he sat looking around at the opulent apartment, by the light of the flickering candles.

Fercher had never seen such grandeur. Velvet wall hangings, obsidian mirrors, marble tables with a myriad of mysterious little alabaster boxes. He was still gazing about in wonderment when Lillian suddenly appeared from behind the curtain. She was obviously in a hurry and a little anxious.

Quickly! We have been summoned to the temple, she shot at Fercher in a voice that brooked no argument..

We! uttered Fercher, without knowing he said it.

We can't leave you hear on your own, She rushed past him and disappeared through a small door at the other end of the room. A door which slammed shut sharply and then bounced back a little.

We are going to where Jeremiah is, she called through the half open door. Fercher stood up, quickly. He may need you. You must come as you are, Lillian called, but I must change.

But why?....What?....How?....I mean, what do I do?....Should I?... Fercher found himself stuttering incoherently.

Don't ask questions Lillian shot back in exasperation. Just be ready to go when I come out. All will be revealed in time. The door slammed shut once more. Her voice sounded like a schoolmistress and in what seemed like the blink of an eye she stood there before him, dressed in street clothes like a lady of the market.

Fercher’s stomach lurched and he felt giddy.

Come, she snapped and turned haughtily, indicating that he should follow. He caught her arm and looked into her eyes as she turned. She seemed to soften a little as she looked at him, he thought. She smiled momentarily, but pulled her arm away annoyed.

The king sent me secretly to Jeremiah to ensure that he remained silent on a certain issue, she hissed quickly. Fercher’s anguished face must have caused her to feel an explanation was necessary. Jeremiah is to have audience with the king - tonight, and we are to be there, at once. Her imperiousness returned. She pushed him out into a hallway and indicated that he should follow her.

At a half-run they sprinted through darkened corridors, occasionally lit by sputtering torches. Her feet made no sound, Fercher marvelled. Soon they came to an open door, by which stood a very young girl and a huge man who carried a large, unsheathed sword. Fercher could not take his eyes from the giant who looked puzzled.

Princess, said Lillian and curtsied quickly. The girl and giant looked curiously at Fercher for what seemed like a long moment. He suddenly felt embarrassed and shifted from foot to foot. He bowed his head but said nothing. Without a word the tall man suddenly ushered them through a large carved door and Fercher found himself back on the street his neck still felt the steel fingers that had propelled him through that door.

The little group hurried furtively through the darkened streets for a short way until they came to the temple. Although the doors were closed, a quick rap and a muffled murmur and it did not take long for a small side door to be opened which offered them admittance. Suddenly, Fercher found himself in a great hall with a small and varied group of people. He stood amazed and awed, he had never been here before. Small groups of people stood randomly round the large darkened room in muffled conversation. Some were obviously priests, a few soldiers, some more elderly, a few women. There was the sound of a heavy door opening and their attention became centred on the far end of the room. Fercher stretched his neck, but could not see properly in the flickering light, as there were only a few torches, but, shocked, his hair stood on end, it looked like the King.. Awestruck, Fercher realised that it was indeed the King. Involuntarily his hand went to his mouth.

Another loud creak and that door at the far end of the room opened and two men carrying flickering torches entered. The torches brought a little more light to the room. Following the torch bearers a large black man and, Fercher gasped and his heart leapt, his master.

He felt it would not be appropriate to call Jeremiah’s name, but every part of him wanted to dash forward. Jeremiah was dishevelled, but clearly he had recently bathed.

The King ordered the room to be cleared of all those who were not necessary to the looming proceedings. Guards moved forward to carry out the order and soon the room was nearly empty. Fercher, somehow was overlooked as he stood with the giant and the two girls.

Jeremiah, called the King without ceremony in a lowered, but clearly audible voice. I would ask you something, and I would that you would hide nothing from me.

Ah, said Jeremiah’s booming voice, but if I tell it unto you, will you not surely put me to death? And if I give you counsel, will you not listen to me?

As the Lord liveth, that made this soul, Zedekiah the king said in a conciliatory tone, I will not put you to death. Neither will I give you into the hand of these men that seek your life.

Jeremiah looked at him with a searching gaze, then looked round the room at the assembled company. He either did not see Fercher, or found it prudent not to recognise him. He drew himself up to his full height and seemed to assume an air of authority that was almost beyond the human. The room was silent. All eyes were upon him and most held their breath. An air of expectancy seemed to grip all there. He pulled himself up to his full height and began.

Thus sayeth the Lord, the God of hosts, the God of Israel, Jeremiah began loudly and the hair on Fercher’s neck stood up. If you wilt assuredly go forth unto the king of Babylon's princes, then your soul shall live, and this city shall not be burned with fire; and you shalt live, and your house. But if you wilt not go forth to the king of Babylon's princes, then shall this city be given into the hand of the Chaldeans, and they shall burn it with fire, and you shalt not escape out of their hand.

But, said Zedekiah in an almost pleading voice. I am afraid of the Judeans that are fallen to the Chaldeans, lest they deliver me into their hand and they mock me.

They shall not deliver you, said Jeremiah in a more kindly voice. Obey, I beseech you, the voice of the Lord, which I speak unto you, so it shall be well unto you, and your soul shall live. But if you refuse to go forth, this is the word that the Lord hath shewed me. And, behold, all the women that are left in the king of Judah's house shall be brought forth to the king of Babylon's princes, and those women shall say, your friends have set you on, and have prevailed against you: your feet are sunk in the mire, and they are turned away back. So they shall bring out all your wives and thy children to the Chaldeans: and you shall cause this city to be burned with fire.

Zedekiah turned away, obviously disappointed. He looked beaten. His counsellors gathered round him to lift his spirits and they murmured against Jeremiah. Zedekiah pulled his cloak up round his head and moved towards the door then stopped and looked back at Jeremiah.

Speak to no one of what has occurred here and you shall not die, he cautioned in a low voice to Jeremiah. But, he raised his voice in an angrier tone, if the princes of Judah hear that I have talked with you, and they come unto you, and say unto you, declare unto us now what you have said unto the king, hide it not from us, and we will not put you to death; also what the king said unto you: Then you shalt say unto them, I presented my supplication before the king, that he would not cause me to return to Jonathan's house to die there. With that he turned his back quickly and darted for the door.

Take him to the prison house. Treat him well, he grunted over his shoulder to a guard, as he left. Fercher started forward, but the tall man caught him by the arm.

Stay with us, he whispered in a low resounding voice, there is nothing you can do for him now.

The room began to empty and Fercher automatically followed Lillian, who, with the Princess and the tall man, made for the same door through which the king had left. Soon they were back in the palace and Fercher was given a soft blanket by the tall man, whose name he discovered was Gabriel, and was told they may be leaving soon but to try to get some sleep. Fercher lay down just outside the door of Lillian's room, and with Gabriel lying a few feet away, he tried to rest. He did not think he could sleep as his mind was racing, ideas and thoughts chased each other through his confused mind, but presently the sleep of exhaustion claimed him and he drifted off to a world of oblivion.

How long he slept he didn’t know. Consciousness slowly returned as he realised he was being roughly shaken by Gabriel. His eyes were heavy and his tongue thick as he staggered to his feet throwing the blanket aside.

Come quickly and take this! He was handed a heavy sword. Fercher looked at it dumbly not knowing what to do. Suddenly, the place was full of people dressing on the run, in whispered chaos. Gabriel grabbed Fercher and pushed him out into a passageway, where Lillian and the Princess were already waiting.

Quickly, Gabriel grunted and they all followed him along the darkened hallway. They were hurriedly joined by two young girls and a detachment of soldiers. Soon they were out in the night air where horses were waiting. Soldiers kept the horses quiet by holding cloths over their nostrils. The whole assembly moved off into the night as quietly as possible, leading the horses through the garden.

Gabriel threw Fercher into the saddle with practised ease, just as he had done with the Princess and Lillian. Fercher, who had never ridden a horse before, held on grimly and followed, bewildered as best as he could. He was not fully awake and had no idea who these people were nor where he was going. He stayed close to the giant Gabriel and clung desperately to the horses main and clutched the heavy sword. Soon they passed through a small gate held open by a uniformed guard and were out in the open.

Chapter Three

The lyre hummed softly under the educated fingers of the pampered, nearly naked, slave girl. It's bull’s head glistened in the flickering lamplight, and her voice was as sweet as the nectar of Kish. The assembled company, tired by their evening revels, stretched out and made ready to sleep. All eyes that were not closed in sleep were drawn to that sweet voice. The young slave girl had long raven black hair, held up by circlets of gold. She had flawless olive skin and wore a long white cotton dress, which displayed more of her ample bosom than it hid. Both her fingers and her toes were adorned by rings of Gold and precious stones. She was obviously accomplished in the art of music and displayed the confidence that comes from years of training.

She lifted her soft voice in a hymn to Shamash the sun god, a traditional song which bade her listeners good night.

"The far mountains are capped by thy brilliance,

Thy glow fills the entirety of lands,

Thou dost ascend the highlands to view the earth,

The perimeter of lands in the heavens thou dost weigh,

All peoples of the lands thou dost supervise,

What divine Ea, king of counsellors created, thou dost control entirely," she sang as the lyre moved in perfect harmony.

The lamplight flickered and sparkled on her gold adornments and was reflected in her dark eyes.

Enkidu's eyes closed. He was happy, warm and comfortable. He pulled the wench that lay beside him closer and lay his head down on the pillow and dreamily surrendered to sleep.

He was a general in Nebuchadnezzar's army and he was very happy with the way things were unfolding. All the omens were good and they had swept away the Philistines, the Moabites and the Edomites   in fact, all those who opposed Nebuchadnezzar. Even the Egyptians had been put to flight. Only Judah remained, and they were locked up tight in Jerusalem, their capital city, their strong, proud capital city. Enkidu smiled he knew of the turmoil in Jerusalem. He knew, through his spies, of the deep divisions in the city. He knew that Jeremiah had advised King Zedekiah to surrender to the Babylonian army and had been imprisoned as a subversive for his trouble. He knew about the Rechabites and the pro Egyptian party. He knew about those who were turning against Zedekiah. He knew of the starvation, the fear and the riots. All of this was music to his ears. The astrologers had told him it would be a good year, and ever since he had adopted Nabu as his personal god, all had gone well. He nuzzled the bosom of the sweet smelling wench beside him.

Enkidu was from Borsippa, a city growing in importance on the Babylonian scene. He had been born into a provincial, but important family and had attended officer training from the age of fourteen. He had distinguished himself in many campaigns and had been honoured by Nebuchadnezzar's father, Nabopolassar himself.

He was known as a competent commander, if not a brilliant one. His men respected him and followed him willingly. His boast was that he had never lost a battle. He was strong, rugged and battle scarred, and a seasoned campaigner. His mind was at rest and he welcomed sleep for he knew that he had done everything he could to secure