Vengeance of Orion (18 page)

I managed to say, as I stood with my fists clenched helplessly at my sides, "You can't destroy me. The others won't let you. They opposed you at Troy, some of them. Blame
them
for your defeat."

"I do, Orion. I will have my vengeance against them. And you will help me to achieve it."

"Never! I won't raise a finger to help you. I'll work against you in every way I can."

He made a deep dramatic sigh and took a step toward me. "Orion, we must not be enemies. You are my creation, my creature. Together we can save the continuum."

"Once you killed her you made me your enemy."

He closed his eyes and bowed his head slightly. "I know. I understand." Looking at me with those intent eyes once more, he said softly, "I miss her too."

I tried to laugh in his face, but it came out like a snarl.

"Orion, I have been studying the situation carefully. There may—I say only
may,
mind you—be a way of restoring her."

Despite his controls I leaped forward and almost grasped him by the shoulders. But my hands froze in midair.

"Not so fast!" the Golden One said. "It's only a remote possibility. The risks are huge. The dangers . . ."

"I don't care," I said, my pulse roaring in my ears. "Bring her back to me! Restore her!"

"I cannot do it alone. And the others . . . those who opposed me at Troy, they will oppose me again. It will mean a deliberate change in the continuum of a magnitude that not even I have attempted before."

I heard his words, but I could not comprehend their full meaning. Nor was I certain that he was telling me the truth.

"I never lie, Orion," he said, reading my thoughts. "To restore her means tampering with the space-time continuum to such an extent that I could rip it apart just as surely as Ahriman once did."

"But you and your other Creators survived that," I said.

"Some of us did. Some of us did not. I told you that gods are not necessarily immortal."

"And that they are not necessarily just or merciful, too," I replied.

He laughed. "Just so. Just so."

"Will you try to restore her?" My voice was almost begging.

"Yes," he said. Before my heart could leap for joy he added, "But only if you obey me fully and completely, Orion. Her existence is in your hands."

There was no sense trying to resist or dissemble. "What do you want me to do?"

For an instant he did not reply, as if he were formulating his plans on the spot. Then he said, "You are heading south, toward Egypt."

"Yes."

"You will soon encounter a wandering band of people who are migrating out of Egypt. Whole families, hundreds of them, traveling together with their flocks and tents. They seek to occupy this territory, to make it their own . . ."

"
This
territory?" I gestured around at the barren rocks and dead scrub.

"Even this," replied the Golden One. "And they are opposed by the villagers and townspeople who already live here. You and your troop of soldiers will help them."

"Why them?"

He smiled at me. "Because they worship me, Orion. They believe that I am not merely the mightiest god of them all, but the only god that exists. And soon, with your help, they will be perfectly right."

Before I could ask another question, before I could even think, the Golden One disappeared and the pillar of smoke evaporated as if it had never been.

Chapter 27

We pushed southward, down the river that flowed from one landlocked sea to another. There were villages dotted along its banks, protected by walls of dried mud bricks. Green farmlands fed by irrigation ditches stood in bold contrast to the bare browns and grays of the rocky hills. The people here were wary of strangers; too many wandering bands had come their way, anxious to take those green lands for themselves or, failing that, to pillage and loot the towns before moving on.

They traded with us, grudgingly, more in an effort to get us to leave their area as quickly as possible. I always kept Helen out of sight, inside the covered cart. And still I watched for signs of Achaians searching for us.

Then one hot afternoon, as the heat haze made a shimmering mirage out of a dry rocky canyon, we came across the advance scouts of the people the Golden One had told me about.

There were twenty of them, warriors, on foot, no two of them wearing the same kind or color of clothing or the same kind of weapons. A ragtag lot, at first glance. Smallish in stature, browned by the sun—just as we were, I realized.

They had arrayed themselves across the narrowest neck of the canyon as we approached them. I wondered if they thought they could stop us from passing through, if it came to a fight. Most of us were mounted on horses and donkeys. I thought we could punch through their thin screen if we had to.

But Lukka, scrutinizing them with a professional eye as we approached, said, "They're not fools, despite their shabby clothes."

"Do you recognize them?"

He shook his head the slightest distance it could move and still convey a negative. "They may be the Abiru that the villagers warned us against two days ago."

I nosed my horse forward. "I'll speak with their leader."

He rode up beside me. "I can translate, if they speak any language of the empire."

"I can understand their language," I said.

Lukka gave me a strange look.

"It's a gift from the gods," I explained. "The gift of tongues."

I rode slightly ahead and raised my hand in a sign of peace. One of the warriors walked up toward me, still holding his spear in his right hand. I slid down from my horse and stood on the dusty soil as he approached me. The heat beat down from the brazen sky and reflected off the scorching rocks. It was like standing in an oven. The only shade in sight was the sparse sliver along the canyon wall to my left. But this young warrior showed no interest in getting out of the hot sun.

His name was Ben-Jameen; he was the eldest son of a tribal chief. They called themselves the Children of Israel, he told me. Ben-Jameen was a youngster, his beard barely starting to sprout. But he was lean and hard-muscled; his eyes missed nothing as he scanned my two dozen men, the horses, donkeys, and oxcarts. He was tense and suspicious, gripping his spear tightly, as if prepared to use it at an instant's notice.

When I told him that we were Hatti soldiers, he used the term "Hittites," and seemed to relax slightly. He almost smiled.

"In whose service are you, then?" he asked.

"No one's. We have come from a great war, far to the north and west of here. We helped to destroy the kingly city of Troy."

His face went blank; he had never heard the name.

"Perhaps you know it as Ilium, by the straits called the Hellespont that lead into the Sea of Black Waters."

Still no gleam of recognition.

I gave it up. "It was a war, and these men helped to take the city after a long siege."

At that, something glimmered in his eyes. "Why are you here, then, in this land of Canaan?"

"We are traveling south, to Egypt, to seek service with the great king of that land."

He glared at me, then coughed up phlegm and spat on the parched ground. "
That
for the Pharaoh! It took my people four generations to escape the slavery of Egypt."

I made a shrug and replied, "We are a unit of professional soldiery. I have heard that the Egyptian king has need of soldiers."

Those suspicious eyes fixed on me. "You are not in anyone's service now?"

"No. The old empire has collapsed . . ."

"The God of Israel has smitten the Hittites," he murmured, and now he truly did smile.

I glanced at Lukka, still on his horse, off to one side, and was glad that he could not understand the Hebrew tongue.

"And now He will smite the evil worshipers of Baal who shut themselves up in their city." Ben-Jameen looked past me, at the men and their mounts, the carts, at Lukka sitting on his horse slightly behind me, and finally at me again. There was a new light in his eyes. "You will serve our God and our people and help us to take the city of Jericho, just as you took that northern city you spoke of."

"We are not seeking service here," I said. "We are traveling to Egypt."

"You will serve the God of Israel," Ben-Jameen insisted. Then, softening slightly, he said, "At least come and spend the night in our camp and meet our great leader Joshua."

I hesitated, sensing a trap.

The youngster smiled shyly. "He would never forgive me if I allowed you to leave without bringing you to him. I would be disgraced before my father's eyes."

It was difficult to argue with him.

"Besides," he added, the smile brightening slightly, "it will be impossible for you to go farther south without running into other groups of our people. We are a multitude."

I bowed to the inevitable and accepted his offer of hospitality as graciously as I could.

The Israelites were indeed a multitude, hundreds of families camped on a wide plain between the river they called Jordan and the worn, bare, baked-brown mountains. Their tents dotted the green plain, and their flocks stirred clouds of dust when they were driven from pasture to the rough fences of their nightly fold.

With the setting sun turning the western sky blood red, and the hot wind blowing down off those scorched mountains, the smell of those flocks was almost overpowering. No one seemed to notice it except us newcomers. Families were gathering before each tent, starting the evening cooking fires, chattering in their guttural language, children running, boys shouting at each other as they played with wooden swords and shields, girls screeching with high-pitched laughter.

But what caught my eyes, and Lukka's, was the walled city sitting atop a low hill in the middle of the plain. It dominated the region, just as Troy had dominated the plain of Ilios.

"That is Jericho," I told Lukka.

"It is known as the oldest city in the world," he said.

"Is it? The walls certainly seem high and thick."

"Stronger than Troy's."

"They want us to help them take it."

He made a coughing grunt.

"Can it be done?"

Lukka scratched at his beard. "My lord Orion, any city can be taken. It's only a question of time, and how many lives you can afford to lose."

We made our camp as far from the animal pens as possible. As the men pitched their tents, I brought Helen out from the covered cart. There was no sense trying to keep her hidden here.

"The men will want to mingle with the women here," Lukka told me.

I nodded, but warned, "Tell them to be careful and mind their manners. I doubt that these women are the kind who take to strangers."

He made a tiny smile. "They all seem to be well protected by family males," he agreed. "Still—no harm in being friendly."

"Just make certain that they're not so friendly they get their throats cut."

Ben-Jameen came back to us as the sun dipped below the western mountains and the long violet shadows crept across the plain.

"Joshua invites you to have supper with him in his tent." He seemed excited and pleased.

Just then Helen came out of my tent, freshly washed in water brought up from the distant river, clothed in a long pleated gown of crimson, a golden necklace and bracelet her only jewelry.

Ben-Jameen gaped at her.

"This is Helen, princess of the lost city of Troy," I said, deciding not to mention that she was Queen of Sparta. "She will accompany me at supper."

It took the youth several moments to get his mouth closed and his eyes off Helen. Finally he turned to me and said, "Among us, women do not eat with men."

"Your leader will have to make an exception in this case."

Ben-Jameen nodded dumbly and scrambled off to inform Joshua of this startling turn of events.

Helen stepped close to me. "I can stay here, Orion. It's not wise to cause trouble over me."

I disagreed. "It's necessary for you to come with me. I want this Joshua, whoever he is, to realize that he can't command me as if I were his servant."

"Ah, I understand," she said. Then, with a smile, "And I thought you couldn't bear the thought of taking a meal without me by your side."

I smiled back. "That, too."

Ben-Jameen returned with a guard of honor, six men in clean robes, armed only with short swords scabbarded at their sides, who escorted us to a wide, low tent of goat skins. I had to duck to get through the entrance flap.

Inside, the tent was spacious. Worn carpets covered the ground. A low table was spread with steaming bowls of meat and platters of olives, onions, and greens I could not identify. A dozen old men at around the table, on brightly decorated cushions and pillows, to the center of the table sat a younger man, his long hair and beard still dark, his eyes bright with an inner fire.

It was Joshua's eyes that sent a warning alarm tingling along my nerves. They blazed with the light of a zeal that knew no bounds, is if he were so certain that what he was doing was the right thing hat he never questioned any action that popped into his thoughts. He was an intense, dedicated man in his late thirties or early forties, I guessed, lean as a sword and as straight, unbent even by the burdens of leading his people as they struggled to find a homeland for themselves.

Ben-Jameen performed the introductions. None of the Israelites stood, but Joshua invited us to sit at the empty places around the table once we had been properly introduced to everyone. I sat directly across the table from Joshua, Helen on my left, Ben-Jameen on my right. The men ignored Helen so thoroughly that I knew her presence disturbed them no end.

There was no wine at the table, only a thin fermented goat's milk that tasted so sour I preferred the water. The food was plentiful, though. For a nomadic tribe on the march through a hostile land, they had plenty to eat. At least, these leaders did.

Joshua remained silent as we ate, but he watched me carefully, his eyes never leaving me. The old men asked me hundreds of questions about who I was, where I came from, were my men truly Hittite soldiers, had the God of Israel really destroyed the Hittite empire? I answered as truthfully as I could, and as we finished the meal with dates and melons, I complimented Joshua on the food.

"Yes," he said, "this is truly a land of milk and honey, just as the Lord our God promised it would be."

"Tell me of your god," I said. "What does he look like? What do you call him?"

A gasp went around the table. Several of the old men actually pushed away, as if afraid I would infect them. Even Ben-Jameen edged slightly away from me.

"His name is never spoken," said Joshua, his voice reedy, nasal, his words coming fast, as if he were angry. "He is the Lord God of Israel, the God of our fathers."

"The most powerful God of all," said one of the old men.

"The
only
God," Joshua insisted firmly. "All other gods are false."

"He is a golden, radiant figure?" I asked.

"No one has ever seen Him," said Joshua, "and it is forbidden to make images of Him."

"How does he communicate with you?"

"He spoke directly to Moses," said the elder on Joshua's right. "He led us through the wilderness and gave Moses the tablets of the law."

"He has led us here," said Joshua, tapping a blunt forefinger on the table. "To Jericho. We crossed the River Jordan dry shod, just as He led Moses and our people across the Sea of Reeds. He has promised us this land of Canaan for our own. But if we can't conquer Jericho we will be nothing but wandering beggars, strangers in our own land, outcasts forever."

"Jericho commands the plain here, that I can see."

"Jericho commands the entire region. He who holds Jericho holds all of Canaan," he said. "That is why we must take the city. That is why you must help us."

"We are only two dozen men."

"Two dozen Hittite soldiers," Joshua said. "The same Hittites who razed Ugarit. Soldiers who are expert at siege warfare."

"But with so few . . ."

Joshua's eyes blazed at me. "You have been sent by God to help us. To refuse would mean refusing the God of Israel. That would be an extremely unwise thing to do."

I smiled back at him. "It would be impolite of me to refuse your request, after the hospitality you have shown us."

"You will help us, then?" Despite himself, he leaned forward eagerly.

"My men and I will do what we can," I said, realizing that I was dealing with a fanatic and there was no way out.

They all smiled and nodded their heads and murmured about the will of God.

But I added, "Once Jericho falls, we will be on our way to Egypt."

"Egypt!" The word went around the table as if it were a blasphemy.

"Egypt is our destination," I said calmly. "We will help you in your siege of Jericho, and then go on our way to that land."

Joshua smiled thinly. "After Jericho falls, you can go to Egypt or anywhere else you choose." He made it sound as if he were saying, You can go to hell, for all I care.