Chapter 11
Obed’s Code ~ continued from Chapter 11 | War Harms Everybody
“Master,” said the man as he bit his lip and shook his right leg and then collapsed on the rocky ledge.
“What,” his friend whispered as he returned.
“Nothing,” said the man whose face contorted in pain.
“Master, Master,” he coughed while grabbing his leg.
The squat, heavily muscled man cradled his friend’s head between the craggy rocks as the wind and rain grew in strength.
“We can get help here.”
“No.”
The sick man grabbed his leg as a sharp, powerful pain shot through his body. He tensed his leg as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. He convulsed in the mud as his legs kicked out twice and then his body went limp.
“Master,” he whispered before he passed out.
His leggings were torn and the wound on his thigh became red and swollen. The bruise opened and there in the mud high above the sleepy town of Bethlehem a single black scorpion slowly emerged with its tail high and ready to strike. It crawled off the man’s body and was motionless on the muddy ground.
The squat man wiped his face and briefly pulled away his hood to watch as the creature made for the cave entrance.
“No,” he whispered. “Not here.”
He grabbed at the scorpion and without a thought he put it into his mouth and swallowed hard.
He moved to a sheltered area and put his friend down against a grassy patch in between the rocks.
“I’ll be back,” he whispered.
He took mud from the ground and covered his face before pulling his hood low over his head.
“May two strangers sit by your fire on this cold night?” he called at the entrance to the cave.
Inside the cave voices were raised and the clanging of steel on rock was heard.
“Who asks?” Yazan said as he stood up and peered into the darkness.
“Strangers escaping from conflict.”
“What conflict?” Yazan said.
Shimea came and stood near his friend. The wind and rain slashed against the rocks and the cave’s entrance.
“All conflict.”
“You can never escape,” Yazan said.
“For one night,” the stranger said.
“Come,” Shimea said.
“Thank you,” the hooded man said. “I will tell my friend.”
He gazed upon Shimea’s face and quickly turned from the firelight. He returned to his friend who still lay unconscious on the rocks and with great strength picked him up and laid him across his broad shoulders.
He walked into the cave and gently put down the injured man.
“You are brave to be out tonight,” Shimea said.
The broad-shouldered man sat down and kept his hood on.
“As you are,” he said.
“We have the company of brothers,” Yazan said.
He watched the two men closely.
“Sick?” Yazan motioned towards the unconscious man.
“Just tired and hungry,” the hooded man said.
“Take some soup.”
Yazan passed a bowl to the man.
The man took the bowl and swallowed it quickly.
“Many thanks.”
“Where are you from?” Shimea asked as the other men gathered around.
“We are out of slavery from Egypt,” the man said.
“Ah, Egypt,” Yazan said.
“Yes, we bought our freedom.”
“Freedom,” Yazan laughed.
“And where do you travel to?” Shimea asked.
“I am a farmer and so wish nothing more than fields of wheat and barley,” said the man as he turned from the firelight so as to hide his face.
“The fields are wet with blood, my friend,” Yazan said as he brought out his sharp knife and ran his fingers along the edge.
“And so you fight for your land,” the man said.
“We kill for it,” Yazan said as he played with his knife.
“Are you an army?” the man asked.
“Many come forward,” Shimea said.
“Do you have a leader?”
He looked quickly at Shimea then looked away. The group of 30-odd men became silent as the wind picked up and slashed at the highlands.
The sick man moaned slightly while attempting to sit up but then fell back on the soft earth and closed his eyes once more.
“We lead ourselves,” Yazan said.
Shimea looked down at the cave floor as the others nodded in agreement.
A man still dressed in his blacksmith apron moved forward from the rough crowd his forearms bulging.
“We do what we must.”
“We don’t need anybody,” Yazan said.
The squat, muscular man, his head still covered with his hood, looked around at the intense yet purposeful faces of war.
“Brave,” he said.
Shimea came forward.
“We are waiting for our leader.”
Yazan cautioned Shimea.
“Wait.”
“Where is he?” the man asked.
“He is coming,” Shimea said.
“And then you fight?”
“Yes,” Yazan said.
The other men became uneasy and restless with the conversa- tion. They turned to their barrels of beer and one man threw a knife at the earth floor close to another’s foot.
“Close,” he said.
The other man stepped forward.
“Dead men don’t need close.”
The other men laughed and pushed the two away from each other.
“Another round!” another yelled.
They all filled their mugs and were deep in their drink.
“Why do you need the leader?” the man asked.
“We don’t need your questions,” Yazan said.
The other stranger pulled himself up slightly.
“Master,” he said, “Master.”
The group of bandits and thieves looked at the weak man.
Continue reading… Chapter 11 | King of Sheep & Goats
[…] Continue reading… Chapter 11 | The Weak Man […]