The Journey Begun (18 page)

Twenty

lihu pulled open the tavern’s door. He recoiled at the nauseating odor of stale wine, burnt oil and unwashed bodies. The soldier’s hulky frame blocked the outside light and stifled the sparse conversation in the room. Only a handful of men were there, two or three of whom slumped at tables with their heads pressed onto the rough wooden surfaces. Half-opened mouths snored and slobbered through stained drool, rancid from a night of imbuing the foul fluids the tavern owner passed off as drink. He looked to his right where three men clustered around a fourth, who clutched his hands to his chest and labored breaths in hoarse gasps. The men fixed cold stares on the intruder in the doorway.

The apparent owner stood behind the long table littered with mismatched and stained drinking vessels. He leaned stiff-armed on the table in conversation with a short, stocky man in a soiled cloak.

“Comp’ny, Ari.” The squatty comrade threw an annoyed glance at the doorway.

Ari looked up. “I’m closed.”

“I’m not buying.” Elihu returned the tavern keeper’s glare.

Ari straightened and glanced at the group of men sizing up the newcomer. The senior commander stepped into the room. He turned and scanned the foursome with his eyes narrowed and his hand resting on a bulge on his hip. He could smell army deserters as easily as another man could smell smoke. The group shifted in their chairs and returned their attention to their injured comrade.

Elihu turned and strode across the room. Ari slouched against the wall with his arms folded across his chest. The soldier stopped at the table and held both men with a frown of contempt.

He leveled his eyes at Ari. “I’m looking for someone.”

“I haven’t seen anyone.”

The short man snorted. “Maybe you should check the stables with the rest of the horse dung, old man.”

Elihu struck without
warning
[B27]
 
. With a crunch, the short man’s face hit the table, pinned there by Elihu’s stiff left arm. In the same instant a short sword appeared in the warrior’s right hand and pinned Ari’s neck against the wall, its point denting the hollow of the tavern keeper’s throat. The three men by door came to their feet and the old veteran stopped them cold without removing his gaze from Ari’s bugging eyes. “One step closer by any of you and some poor jackass is going to inherit a really filthy tavern.”

The trio wavered where they stood for a moment,
as though
[B28]
 
trying to determine whether or not the stranger was bluffing.

With a flick of his wrist, Elihu opened a small slit in Ari’s throat that swelled red before spurting a trickle of blood down to his chest. Ari yelped and Elihu raised the tip of the sword under the terrified man’s chin. The men across the room glanced at each other.

“Get out. Take the wheezer with you.” Elihu never raised his voice.

Ari’s wide eyes pleaded with the men to do as they were told. They turned, hoisted their gasping companion to his feet, and stumbled out the door. The short man wriggled and groaned under Elihu’s stiff arm. A rivulet of blood from his broken nose streaked a path to the edge of the tabletop. Thick crimson drops dripped off the edge and splattered on the dirt floor.

“I’m looking for someone.” Elihu repeated.

Ari nodded as best he could, given the position of Elihu’s blade.

“How’s your memory now?” He lessened the pressure on the tavern owner’s chin.

Ari lowered his head, but not by much. “A lot of men come through here. I don’t know who they all are.” He avoided eye contact with his questioner.

“Come now, I’m sure a place like this gets mostly repeat customers. I suspect you’d know if there were a stranger in the room, now wouldn’t you?” Elihu nudged the sword back up. “Think hard.”

“All right, all right—
hoi,
you’re cutting me!” Ari craned his neck as far back as he could to escape the point of the blade.

“Last night you had a guest. Not a regular. Short. White hair. Not quite my age. Probably kept to himself.”

“I’m not sure.”

Elihu saw Ari’s eyes flicker involuntarily to the wall near the table the four men had just vacated. He moved the flat side of the sword to the side of his captive’s face and twisted it so the edge rested against a dark vein bulging from the side of the man’s neck. “I think you are.”

“All right!” Ari gulped. “There was someone here who might have looked like that.”

“‘Might have’?” The sword creased Ari’s skin.

“Stop! How can I think with you slitting my throat?”

“Very quickly, I suggest.” Elihu nudged the sword up and down until it chafed the skin red.

“By the gods,
please
stop!”
Tears
[B29]
 
welled up in the tavern owner’s eyes. “Yes, he was here!”

The soldier brought the blade back around to the front of Ari’s throat and rested the tip once again in the hollow. “Go on.”

“He sat over there.” His eyes flicked again to the far wall. “He bought wine and gave me extra silver to keep it coming. He left after the fight.”

“Fight?”

“Some old drunk picked a fight with a couple of my best customers. Jumped the one you saw sitting by the wall when you came in. Took everyone by surprise. He was huge and mean. Took three of ’em to pull him off. It was all we could do to get him out the door before he busted up the place.”

Elihu’s eyes narrowed. “Huge and mean.”

Ari nodded. “Big as I’ve seen ’em—and I get a lot of mean ones through here. He was yelling insults about Israel. He jumped my friends when they stood up for King Jeroboam’s honor.”

“Honor.”

Elihu could barely suppress a smile, as Ari’s story gained momentum.

“That’s right. He even said he had Elihu ben Barak under his thumb. What I wouldn’t have given for the great Ben Barak to come through that door! Can you imagine what he would’ve done?”

“I think so.” Elihu’s thoughts flashed back to the signs of the beating Moshe had taken the night before. “Why did the white-haired man leave after the fight?”

“I don’t know. He was probably a friend of the monster. Maybe they planned to wreck my place together.” Ari thrust his jaw forward, his face taking on a measure of indignation.

Elihu reminded Ari of his position with renewed pressure against his throat. “Where did he go?”

“I don’t know. Once they left the tavern, we let them go.” Ari pouted. “Just look what they did to my place. They should be made to pay for all this!”

Elihu didn’t need to appraise the broken-down furniture and ramshackle room. Neither did he require a close examination to know none of the damage was new. He knew the tavern owner was lying, but nothing more could be gained by questioning. He established Jonah was there, and that he had left sometime during the night. The owner probably didn’t know where he went when he left. Why would he? By Moshe’s account, shame most likely drove Jonah out after disowning his friend. If the runaway prophet had lowered himself to come to a place like this, there was no telling where he might have gone from here. Elihu would have to keep searching the city.

 
The warrior withdrew his sword from Ari’s throat and sheathed it. He pulled the short man up by his hair, released him, and let him drop to the floor. The man hunched over, moaning and cupping what once was his nose. The tavern keeper fingered the tiny slit on his throat and grumbled. “There was no call for this treatment. You owe me for—”

He jumped back against the wall as the warrior lunged over the table.

Elihu knotted his fist in Ari’s shirt and pulled him close. “Don’t push it, swine! You’re nothing but a useless, lying, low-life piece of human trash, and I’d be doing Israel a favor if I ran you through right here. Don’t think for a moment I swallowed the filth you tried to feed me. I found out what I needed to know. And if I discover my friend has been hurt, or worse, you can be sure I’ll be back to do Israel that favor. Is that clear?” Ari blinked his understanding.

The force of the door slamming at Elihu’s exit dislodged the rotting lintel from the aged masonry. It crashed into the street amid a shower of plaster and rubble. Ari spat and walked around the table to lift his comrade from the floor.

The man mumbled through his broken face. “I tho’d you were going do dell himb I dook the crippled old mand’z ‘prophid’ oud of here laz’ nighd. Thankz for gettig—”

 
“Don’t thank me for anything! I didn’t do it to save
your
neck, you fool. If that crazy old goat found out what you did to his friend, he’d have slit both our throats. You better get back to your whore and lose the little man before this madman tracks him there.” Ari shoved the swarthy man toward the ruined doorway.

“Bud he’z—”

“Go!”

Lll

As Jonah crested the first rise through Megiddo Pass, he fought the urge to look back. The urge won. The magnificent city shone in the morning light like a beacon, its familiarity beckoning him to turn back. He hesitated. All that lay ahead was the unknown. How soon would he see his beloved city, or his family, or his friends again? Ever?

“You have no friends, no family. They’ve deserted you. There’s no turning back. None.”

He grimaced even before the now familiar bolt of pain stabbed his brain and elbowed reason aside. The notion was right. It didn’t matter. It couldn’t matter. He had been left no choice. None.

Jonah stared at the road at his feet. One step would settle the issue. Its momentum would carry him the rest of the way. He didn’t know where he was going, so there was no point in looking ahead.
Just watch the road. One step at a time. Just one step at a time.

Turning his back, he took the first step.

Lll

Elihu loosed the reins of his steed and eased himself onto the stone bench beside Moshe. The horse clopped a few paces toward the wall and nibbled at a tuft of grass peeking through a crack in the pavement.

“You all right?” He studied his friend’s face, noting the hardness from their previous discussion remained.

“Sure.” Moshe kept his eyes on the road and fidgeted with a loose thread hanging from the hem of his cloak. “You find anything out from Ari?”