The Knights of J'shua Book 1

Updated 3/14/24

Chapter 31

Sarah

Sarah skipped across the yard, carrying the basket of food leavings to the scratching, clucking hens that came running. While they tore at the scraps, she picked the warm eggs out of their scraggly straw nests. It’s already hot, she thought as she wiped sweat from her brow with the back of her hand.

Shaun, her new da, left early in the morning to go to a meeting at the common house. She gnawed on her lip when he left. He told Ma that each man had to voice their thoughts on the keeping of the village. Otherwise, they were only slaves. Then he quoted a passage she recognized.

[Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty.]

She thought about that. Her real da had said one night when they looked up at the stars, “The God of Truth watches to see what each of his children will do with the life he has given.”

She picked up the basket of eggs and walked to their hut. After she and Ma made honey cakes and the crackers for the week, she would meet her friend, Ned. She glanced at a trimmed knobby stick that leaned against the fence.

Sarah had watched her real da whenever he exercised. She stood out of his way and imitated his every move. When he practiced with his sword, she twisted, lunged, and pierced invisible foes with a stick. All the while he had observed her with an approving smile.

She and Ned trained in the woods every day. After swords, they’d throw rocks at trees. And when they played hide-and-seek, they would wrestle when found. They were the same age. That made it fair. He was the best friend, ever.

Finally, she wrapped all the cakes and crackers in waxy cloths and stacked them in the food box. When she turned, Ma nodded. “Go on, Sarah. I know Ned is waiting for you.”

“Thank you, Ma!” she said as she ran off, swinging her stick in the air with a roar. Ned was waiting in the clearing with his stick as he always was. He didn’t have as many chores as she. His four older brothers and sisters did most of the work.

Sarah parried Ned’s thrust, knocking his stick away again. Taking a step back, she nodded toward the ground where it lay. He let out a sigh and picked it up. “You’ll get better, my first da knocked mine away a hundred times, until I got stronger and learned how to adapt my grip. I can still hear him, “Everything we learn takes failure,” he said that over and over. I didn’t like it, but he was right.

“So I should count my failures to see when I might beat you?” He grinned.

“Maybe, I didn’t think of that. Or just don’t let them make you lose hope. Anyone who says they’ve never failed is lying.” She moved her stick in a figure eight before lunging at him again. After they were both tired, she tossed her stick away. “Ned, I was wondering, do you think we could get real practice swords?”

“Where? The village doesn’t have any, not real ones either.”

Sarah scowled at the ground and tapped her foot until she got an idea. “Let’s ask Lyster. We could do chores for him and earn them. I am sure the Lockes have lots of swords. And the Locke’s hunting trip should be soon.”

***

Just as Lyster predicted, everyone in the village heard the commotion. A minstrel played and led songs about heroes and battles of old as the caravan of wagons and guards on horseback galloped toward the hunting lodge. One song about a woman and her fruit made no sense, but those on the wagons enjoyed it, while many of the villagers wore scowls.

It was a mile off the Lexandria-South Fort road, but only a short run through the woods by the meeting house. Ned and Sarah waited beside the road as the colorfully dressed people passed by. The guards in front carried white banners each bearing a ravenous purple wolf, the Locke family crest, and the ones that followed behind the fancy coach wore swords and bows.

The village elders invited the duke and his hunting party to a reception the day they arrived. It was the customary feast the village held every moon, but there were a several special dishes and Mother Berenda’s berry tarts graced the table, too. Sarah helped ma make several large batches of herbed crackers. All the women made sure that no one went hungry.

As a thank you the duke invited all the men to his lodge, and the duchess met with the women. Sarah snuck through an arched entryway into a large room with soft rugs and knotty pine walls, pulling Ned with starts and stops. They hid in a shadowy corner.

Inside the grand hall Berenda led Ma toward Duchess Ellyth Locke. The atmosphere was warm, and a sense of joy permeated the air. The duchess looked up as Berenda approached.

"Your Grace, may I introduce Kennah Decker, our beloved midwife, a pillar of our community."

Duchess Ellyth smiled warmly, offering her hand. "Midwife Decker. It's a pleasure to meet you. Berenda speaks highly of your dedication to the village."

Ma held her hand and curtsied. "Your Grace, the pleasure is mine. I've heard much about the kindness of the Locke family."

Duchess Ellyth chuckled. "Kindness is a virtue we hold dear. My midwife, Matilda, has served the Locke women for many years. She's a treasure."

Ma’s face lit up. "Matilda Caleta?"

"You know of her?" Duchess Ellyth's smile grew.

"Yes, indeed. She was my mentor, guiding me in the art. A remarkable midwife, I owe my life to her wisdom and experience. She shaped me into the person I am today."

Berenda added, "Kennah has just arrived in our village, Your Grace, but in our previous town in Lorness, she attended almost all the births of these women." She placed her hand on Ma's shoulder while her arm swept the room. "Each mother aided by her gentle touch and reassuring words."

Duchess Ellyth raised her brows. "It warms my heart to hear it. Matilda is getting on in years so it pleases me that her students will preserve her wisdom and skills.

Ma nodded. "Matilda's teachings are a gift, Your Grace. And I'm honored to teach new mothers and welcome their babes. It is a joy. I'm grateful to be a part of it."

The duchess, Berenda, and Ma continued sharing stories, laughing.

Sarah marveled that their interaction carried no sense of distance between a noble and commoners. Her real da had taught her to keep a space between herself and any noble that spoke to her, to not look them in the eye. That wasn't what she saw here.

32

Jonathan

He found the path to North Fort. Jonathan could not describe it as a road. That would be overly generous, no matter how maps recorded it.

Ancient trees towered above him. Brush scraped his legs. His horse was tense, each step tentative as they followed a trail reclaimed by the forest.

He observed hastily built tents and shanties. Jonathan marveled that any would choose this. It was hard living on the frontier. But…this was far away from Lorness, Farr Castle, or any place where nobles attempted to enslave people. The king’s proclamation would free many, but it was better never to be put at risk. Passing several children in the distance weeding a garden reinforced that thought.

He slowed to watch them, smiling wistfully. None had blonde hair.

They waved to him.

He waved back as he continued past, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

It had been over two moons since his family vanished. Overcome with thoughts of Rebekah. Sarah. He squeezed his eyes shut trying to stop the flow of tears. He could not. He cried so hard he felt sick.

When the sun set, he made camp in the woods. He lay awake praying for a long time, praying for Sarah and Rebekah and David, for all the rulers and the people he had met. Finally, he slept.

At North Fort, South Fort, and Lexandria, each herald thanked him for his delivery, read the proclamation, and sent out riders to each of the surrounding villages.

Finished with his route, Jonathan headed back toward his friends in Lorness. He let the horse graze, ate some dried meat, and prayed. The path between Lexandria and Fairness Crossing astonished him. He’d never ridden a road so well maintained, a thoroughfare heavy with traffic. Lexandria must have more variety or better quality to have so many going there.

Approaching Fairness Crossing, he felt a tightness in his gut. The hairs on his neck stood up, and his heart raced. He slowed, but seeing no threat, he dismissed his worries as foolish, continuing to the herald station, which was next to the commandant’s office.

Entering, he looked for the king’s proclamation on the wall of announcements. Not seeing it, he presented the parchment and his pass from the king.

“This is wonderful news!” The herald’s face rose and blossomed like a sunflower seeking the sun.

His expression caught Jonathan by surprise. “Have you not already received this? The king dispatched me three weeks ago. Another should have delivered this already.”

“It didn’t arrive. I shall announce this immediately.” The herald turned away, searching for his official tabard.

Surely, the other rider carrying the proclamation should have reached this town before Jonathan. It would have taken far less time to travel due south rather than his circuitous route.

Jonathan frowned, thinking of the other courier as he walked back to his waiting steed.

“Stop that man!” a voice bellowed.

As Jonathan mounted, he turned to see the commandant pointing at him. A dozen soldiers in burgundy leather charged, scattering chickens and peasants, drawing their swords. “You! Get down!” The voice belonged to an old adversary, the giant commandant at Fairness Crossing. Greysun. He was still here after all these years.

Jonathan ignored the order, replying, “Commandant, if you wish to converse, I am happy to oblige. Or are you interested in another sermon?”

Greysun glowered, and the ringing of his sword brought a snakelike grin to his face. “You son of a hundin, I’ll give you a sermon.” His blade sliced the air with a flourish and pointed toward Jonathan’s face. “I told you that day, you would pay.”

Backing his horse away, Jonathan threw back his cloak, revealing his sword. He watched the armed men, keeping the distance open.

Soldiers wearing only gambesons, shifted from foot to foot, exchanging furtive glances.

“I’ll give you the thrashing of your life, knight.”

Jonathan’s horse snorted, remaining still.

The soldiers formed a loose cordon around him, looking nervously at each other and their commandant. Subduing any man on horseback was difficult. The Knights were well known to be masters of the sword. None of the men seemed eager to come within his reach.

A breeze blew leaves across the ground.

“Pull him down! Bind him!” Greysun gestured at the knight.

The soldiers inched closer.

Jonathan placed a hand on his hilt and reached into his shirt for the pass.

“Commandant Greysun!” another voice roared. The herald stood on the porch, straightening his royal tabard. “This knight has a pass from the king. You may not interfere with his duty. Do so, and I’ll see you arrested for treason.”

The soldiers withdrew, sheathing their swords, muttering softly about J’shua’s intervention.

Greysun glowered but said nothing, holding his ground.

The herald read the proclamation aloud, “Whereas we are a Nation of Laws, these laws having been given to us over the last hundred and forty-four years by our wise ancestors, we must be slow to change them….”

The crowd grew and grew.

“Whereas, the Fruitfulness of my people and their Happiness is of my utmost concern…”

Jonathan smiled as more plain-clothed commoners filled the road. He knew well what the proclamation said.

“Whereas, great Frauds and Abuses have been committed in these debt collections…

A chorus rang out. “Hurrah!”

“Be it known that: First, every dependent that was taken in debt collection while the principal was already in a legal contract must be returned.” The herald’s reading was punctuated by many more shouts.

“Praise the God of Truth!” someone yelled.

“…if this is abused after this proclamation has been posted, all parties involved in the theft will be prosecuted.”

“My children will be returned!”

“My family will come back!”

The entire crowd chanted, “Hail King Edal! Hail King Edal!”

Remaining mounted, Jonathan waited while the herald finished. The people’s joy lifted his spirits. He bowed to the commandant and then watched the furious Greysun retreat into his office.

Jonathan’s crooked smile grew when the door slammed. As he rode away, he recalled when they first met.

Jonathan and two other new knights, Jean LaVoie and Harold Grammott, had walked into town on a summery day. They sought provisions for their first mission.

“Why don’t we ask the man with the full wagon?” Jonathan pointed as his eyes fell upon the most beautiful maiden he’d ever seen. She was shapely and had long, wavy, golden hair.

She was arguing with a merchant. Her gestures punctuated her complaint. “Do you have another buyer for it? Otherwise, we’ll buy one in Lexandria or River Town.”

The man hesitated and then hung his head and accepted coins from her. She turned, hands on her hips, and met Jon’s gaze. Her smile struck him as sure as an arrow, stopping him in his tracks.

Jean nudged him, noticing the object of his attention. “Well now, not a day out of training, and already your head is turned. Tsk, tsk, Jonny-boy.”

“I suppose you’ll be too busy to teach.” Harold poked him. “Or perhaps this will lead to some private instruction, eh?”

“Shut it, both of you. You make too much of a glance.” Jonathan smiled. “There is nothing wrong with admiring the flowers of the garden.”

In unison, they mimicked Jonathan and finished his oft-repeated adage, “Only do not pluck them if the garden is not yours.” Both burst out laughing.

“It is too bad you did not apply yourselves so well to your studies.” A sly grin spread across Jonathan’s face.

“Always the fast one. There’s no keeping up with you.” Harold shook his head.

As the three friends laughed, Jonathan thought to approach the young beauty, but a loud crash caught their attention. Six soldiers, clad in the vermillion of the king, guffawed on the far side of the market. At their feet, a farmer sprawled in a pile of crushed tomatoes.

Surging to his feet, the man glared at his tormentors. “My daughter won’t be the butt of jokes nor lewd comments by the likes of you. That’ll be five baden for the tomatoes and an apology to my Marsha.” He nodded toward the maid. “Do that, and I’ll not report you to the commandant.”

The soldiers laughed harder. Their leader, a bearded giant, sneered. “I’ll save you the trouble. I’m the new commandant.”

The farmer’s eyes widened.

Clutching the man’s throat, the giant raised him to eye level. Then, with a vicious smile, dumped him back into the tomatoes.

The maiden ran to help her father, but the commandant grabbed her by the shoulders and growled, “Let’s see if you’re as tender as you look.”

She struggled as her face was smothered by his large beard. Kicking and scratching, she pushed him away. “You pig!” she spat, her defiance echoing through the tension-filled air, even as terror flickered in her eyes.

“Fire! That’s what we like in a woman,” the commandant said, holding her at arm’s length. “Don’t we, men?”

They all laughed again.

Her father, the farmer, staggered back to his feet, breathing hard. He stepped forward unsteadily, tottered, almost collapsing again, but gave a determined kick to the officer’s side.

Groaning, the commandant recoiled in pain. Momentarily distracted from his perverse intentions, he released the frightened maid, who sprinted away. Her father stood his ground as the other soldiers drew their swords.

The giant straightened, snarling, “Fool! You’ve forfeited your life!” In a dark rage, the commandant struck the farmer, sending him sprawling to the ground in a gasping heap.

Jonathan tensed and dropped his pack.

Jean placed his hand on Jonathan’s shoulder. “Easy, Jon. These are the king’s soldiers.”

Harold leaned in. “It could be the farmer’s fault.”

“I will not stand by and watch such evil,” Jonathan strode forth with a primal roar, “You! Coward!”

The giant ignored him and unsheathed his sword, advancing on the still-prone farmer.

With swift precision, Jonathan saw his opportunity, dropped low and spun, sweeping the commandant’s legs. The giant landed on his back with a crash, his sword skittering away, while Jonathan drew his blade and pricked the officer’s neck.

“Commandant, why don’t we resolve this? Let us each walk away unscathed. What say you?”

The commandant scowled, fury plain on his face.

Jonathan glanced at the five militet, who kept their distance.

“Your vows won’t shield you, knight,” the commandant growled defiantly, his wrath palpable. “You threaten a soldier of the king. My men will deal with you,” he growled, “Kill me or not.”

“He is not alone, foul dog,” came the voice of Harold as he and Jean stood behind the other soldiers, swords drawn, reinforcing Jonathan’s position.

Jonathan’s voice resonated, piercing through the chaos, “Your job is to serve and protect our country. Not to act as you have here. No law protects you when you break it yourself.”

“Enough preaching. Let me up. We’ll be gone.”

“Pay for the farmer’s goods.”

“Here’s five baden.” The officer grasped a pouch at his belt.

“Ten.” Jonathan pressed the point harder into his throat.

“Ten.” The commandant begrudgingly tossed the coins to the farmer.

Jonathan withdrew a step.

The commandant rolled to his knees, moaning. As he pushed up, he hurled a handful of dirt at Jonathan, momentarily blinding him. Seizing the opportunity, the officer lunged for his sword.

Jonathan twirled to retreat, pulling up his cloak to block the dust.

The officer leaped, thrusting his sword deep.

A powerful, scraping, clash of steel rang out as Jonathan’s blade slid down the other’s edge.

With the blade poised at the giant’s throat once more, Jonathan spoke with quiet authority, “Enough.”

The commandant dropped his sword. “You’ll regret this, knight. I’m Commandant Greysun. None cross a soldier of the king without penalty.”

“I wish you were wrong, Commandant,” Jonathan said as he and his friends backed away. “These are dark days when the king’s soldiers fail to uphold his laws, and nobles abuse the people.”

“Careful, boy. You can best me with a sword, but the Earl of Lorness doesn’t take lightly those who speak unfavorably of him.”

Jonathan’s eyes flashed. “Would you pass on my greetings?”

“Fool!” the giant snarled as he picked up his sword, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. “You’d do better to pick a fight with the Serpent himself rather than provoke a Melazera. His dungeons are a sorry place for any mother to pick up the bones of her son.” He motioned for his militet to follow him. “We’ll meet there one day.”

Jonathan’s friends withdrew. “Perhaps. But, in the name of J’shua Ha Mashiach, the son of the God of Truth, I bid you a good day.” He bowed to the commandant.

The soldiers mounted and rode off as townspeople jeered.

“You will pay,” Greysun yelled over his shoulder as he disappeared.

The farmer thanked them profusely. People in the market cheered and clapped them on their backs. Then the three young men walked back to their packs, but they were missing.

“If that doesn’t cast one down,” Harold said, clenching his fists. “Help someone, and what happens? Our belongings stolen.”

“Calm, Harold. We will see soon enough what happened,” Jonathan said as he glimpsed the same young woman he’d admired earlier marching toward them, smiling. Her eyes were as blue as the sky.

“That was some display, valiant knights. I placed your bags on our wagon. You’ll be spending the night with my family. My father insists.” She glanced toward an older man on a wagon who was securing bags of grain. He peered at them and waved.

“My name is Rebekah.” She pulled her finger across Jonathan’s cheek, leaving a light streak on his skin. “It appears you gentlemen are dusty after all this. Perhaps you’d like a bath as well.”

Jonathan stood mute, mouth agape, stunned.

She chuckled, turned, and strode back toward her father.

Jean gave Jonathan a push and whispered, “Friend, you are doomed.”

That memory of his wife stabbed his chest as a new worry nagged. He had expected to finish and return to Lorness. But if the king’s affirmation of the contract laws had not reached Fairness Crossing, how likely was it to have reached River Town or Gaelib’s seat of power in Lorness?

Duty required he deliver the proclamation. He prayed for Rebekah and Sarah and the missing courier as he continued on. His next stop would be River Town.

Chapter 33

Caileagh

Caileagh accepted the report from bowing messenger and surveyed the list of evaluated novices. She marked which ones could be placed immediately and which to school for later use.

More and more people came to the enrollment tents of the Order of the Black Robe. The recruiters traveled to each town once a moon. The sons of many farmers would rather work in town than walk behind a plow all day in the heat and cold and rain. And men that lost their farms needed baden as well. They were loyal for the coin that was paid them. The greater their usefulness, the greater the pay.

Some the Order placed into positions of menial servitude until they could be trained for higher levels of service. The Order of the Black Robe guaranteed their quality. If they failed to perform, they would be replaced with someone better suited to the task. If a refund was demanded, the Order paid it. Hence all the prosperous merchants and overburdened government officers trusted the Order for competent help.

To the outside world, the Order was run by a council of seven master docents. These were ruled by the high docent, a man that reported to Caileagh directly. She participated only as the high priestess of the Alte Regieren, always in disguise. These measures kept the organization’s purpose outwardly secular and free of any visible connection to the Melazeras.

The docents were each responsible for twelve novices. They had the task of meeting with their charges at a tavern each week and teasing useful information from them. The novices rarely missed the customary social gathering since the docent paid for the drinks.

If an initiate showed particular promise, and they could be broken from family communication, she would evaluate them for training in the mysteries of the Alt Regieren. Those that passed her tests of loyalty, became acolytes and made their oaths in blood. An Alte Regieren acolyte’s first assignment was to report  any secret information about whatever office they were placed into. Their loyalty was unquestioned, their obedience absolute.

Every moon, this intelligence was delivered to  Gaelib, allowing him to evaluate the environment of a given village or castle and the intentions of many key figures. The information could be used to suborn these nobles and merchants for his uses. Certain ones were invited to lunar festivals at Lorness Castle for closer inspection.

Later, the acolytes would also spread rumors that Caileagh designed. These would facilitate unrest throughout the inhabitants, put pressure on specific individuals or lull them into a false sense of safety. These acolytes would continue reporting any new developments.

As they committed the required sacrifices, they rose in status and were given more difficult tasks. It was most important to know what motivated each acolyte. Her spirits were adept at this and led her to apply the right words and nurture the right feelings for each of them. She had learned this from her mother. The process might be tedious if she didn’t revel in it so much.

Once a novice could write well enough, each was asked to write their personal history. The docents were old men that had served their time as spies and assassins and now shepherded the young ones as kind, fatherly docents. They encouraged them to purge their souls by expressing everything they felt in the story. These were given to Caileagh. She found them most enjoyable and actionable.

One boy in particular, a very motivated young man. He was eleven when his mother brought him to the white tent. This boy’s story was filled with heartache, outrage, and a great desire for revenge. He had lost his mother. That was by design of course. The woman had been assured that her son was sent to work in some far away border town and encouraged with a compassionate gift of baden to move there. Once she was gone, he received time to visit her. But he found no sign of her and the tailor that she had lived with, who also received a gift, wouldn’t speak to him.

Learning of this, the high priestess invited him to meet with her. Always draped in a silk veil, she listened to his woes and spoke the wisest sayings. All the while she subtly encouraged his revenge fantasies. Her door was open to him. During their frequent meetings, she plied him with herbs and wine, and gradually groomed him to trust her completely. Once he arrived at the idea himself, she took him to her bed. This soul tie is nearly impossible to break. Even now, he was their most trusted assassin.

Today, he carries gifts to Duke Fredruck of Wooster. Candles and incense for their offices that have been blessed with spirits to open doors for them. He wouldn’t know that these were from her. The letter will say it is from an admirer. The spirits will attempt to invade those who come near and plant seeds that would sprout irritation, envy, and jealousy. Human nature would water the seeds.

The duke had been a thorn in Gaelib’s side since the beginning. He was older than Gaelib by a decade. He tried to visit Gaelib after his mother died, distracting his from her attentions. She planted ideas to make Gaelib resent the duke. Eventually, Gaelib saw it from Caileagh’s perspective and sent the duke away.

Chapter 34

Rebekah

Rebekah had gone many days north chasing rumors of George Rosewud, only to spy him back here, walking out of the Sapphire dressed in the plain hemp clothing of a farmer. She watched him study the dark clouds sweeping in from the east as she leaned against a building.

Then he sat on the back of a wagon. His pretense of being a farmer, instead of his true role as Melazera’s undersecretary, was new. New to her, at least. Yet, he was too clean, too pale, and stood too straight. No one who wasn’t blind with drink could think him a proper farmer. Yet, there he was.

Why would he pretend to be less? What did he really do for Gaelib Melazera? Something covert was happening. Could he be spying on someone? Was he lying in wait? Maybe he needed a quick disguise and a farmer’s clothes were convenient.

She scowled. She had important tasks for the community, so she couldn’t follow him that day.

Rebekah almost turned away when an unsavory character approached the undersecretary as he sat. When their speaking grew louder, she edged closer into a shaded alley. But she still could not hear. After the heated exchange, Rosewud handed a heavy coin purse to the rogue who fingered the hilt of his knife. Then Rosewud climbed in the front of the wagon and drove off.

Avoiding the gaze of the ruffian, she mounted and plodded reluctantly toward her first errand. Before she reached it, the ruffian and a younger man—both on horses—raced out of town.

They were up to no good. What had the weasel pay them to do? Then as rain began to pelt down, she noticed another rider headed out of town at an easy pace in the same direction, hooded against the weather. She continued on.

Jonathan

Jonathan followed a well-worn path beside the East River, northward. Despite his fears, the proclamation had overjoyed the River Town herald. The people clapped him on the back, as they escorted him to the Sapphire Inn to buy him a drink. After many weeks of travel, he enjoyed this one night in a dry, warm bed. He woke and packed early. Savoring the inn’s breakfast, a thick, hearty porridge with ripe, purple berries and meat strips on the side, he banished all his sadness and rested in the moment, praising the God of Truth for his blessings.

As he ate, he considered the favorable responses of the heralds. They were appointed by the king, not the local authorities, to ensure that royal edicts and communication would be transmitted accurately and efficiently. It seemed one portion of the government had not been corrupted. Perhaps Melazera had been unable to suborn them.

Even as a child, Gaelib had easily enticed other children to do his bidding. They tormented Jonathan on his behalf in seemingly childish, innocent ways. Name calling, small pranks, accidental falls, and thrown acorns or stones, all their assaults done while the prince was away. Always somewhere, watching from the sidelines, Gaelib smirked. Whenever the prince was there, Gaelib played the jester and made Sagen laugh. He never showed his true colors then. Fortunately, Gaelib lived in Lorness Castle most of the time.

He was always surprised by how angry it made him to think about Gaelib Melazera, even now. He sighed heavily, blowing away the sudden attack of temper.

As Jonathan was leaving the Sapphire, a man dressed in coarsely woven hemp, like a farmer approached Jonathan, using the name George Rosewud. He lacked calloused hands and a sun-worn face, so Jonathan doubted he’d ever picked up a hoe.

“Sir knight, I am heavily burdened. Would you talk with me for a while?”

Jonathan pointed to an empty table, and they sat. “How so? Tell me, sir.”

The man spoke of his dead wife and his son taken in a debt collection.

“I am sorry to hear of your loss. I…” Jonathan was about to tell him of the proclamation, but he felt a check in his spirit. “Where are you from, George?”

“I’m from Lorness.”

“I am heading there today. Did you lose your farm there?” Jonathan pressed.

“Yes,” the man bluffed, all too obviously. “Now we’ve a place in Lexandria, through my father’s second marriage. We lost the one in Lorness…to its lord.”

“Do you have brothers that help with your farm?”

“Oh, yes, They work very hard,” the man said.

What did this imposter want with him? Jonathan let the silence draw out.

“Tell me of your travels, Sir Otual. What countries have you seen?”

Jonathan described the beautiful sights of Tarinland, Esthlanis, and Mestelina.

George’s eyes veered out the window. “I’m sorry. I see my father and must attend him.”

“The blessing of J’shua Ha Mashiach be upon you and your family,” Jonathan said as George hastily departed. The man never said anything that explained why he dressed the way he did. Why did he question me? What did he want?

Because of his recent encounter with Greysun, Jonathan turned his cloak brown-side out and slipped out the back. Taking a circuitous route to the stables, he mounted and rode north. It was a day’s ride to Lorness. If he was hunted, as he feared, he could not delay any further. He must deliver the proclamation. Did problems await him in Lorness?

The rain poured down hard and cold. Jonathan and his horse were long since soaked to the bone. He had not stopped moving since departing from River Town and his encounter with George Rosewud. Uncertainty gnawed at his gut. He prayed for Rebekah and Sarah and David, picturing them all together again in comfort and safety. And he meditated on the Writings to still his fears, thanking Lord J’shua for leading him.

In the distance, two gray figures on horseback appeared, coming nearer at a walk. Jonathan loosed his sword in its scabbard and checked his dagger as he continued the relaxed pace. The two men separated to pass him on either side, each wearing hats that shrouded their faces. One had the lanky look of a youth about him. He let them come close and then abruptly reined his stallion to the left, blocking the larger man. Jonathan’s horse snorted.

“What’cha think you’re doin’, old man?” its rider snapped. “If ya can’t control ya horse, ya should’na be ridin.’”

“I have control.” Jonathan kept his hand on the sword hidden beneath his cloak. “That is why I did not let you pass me. Perhaps that is why I am still alive.”

“If ya wanna stay that way, get off’a ya horse. We’ll tell Rosie y’ar dead. He don’t need know…if ya give us ya baden,” the brute chuckled. His young companion smiled menacingly, a narrow-bladed dagger perched expertly in his hand.

Jonathan spurred his horse, ramming the older man, whose squealing mount reared. The startled rider was vulnerable. With one slash of Jonathan’s blade, the highwayman fell from his horse, blood running down his arm.

Jonathan kneed his horse and galloped away. His heart pounded in his ears. Did Greysun send them? Were they following?

He glanced over his shoulder and slowed to listen. After a few miles with no sign of pursuit, he breathed a sigh as he reined in the horse to rest. Rosie? Did his attacker refer to the pretender posing as a farmer at the inn? Rosewud? Could those brigands have killed the other courier?

Now, Jonathan rode hard. In part to share the king’s joyous proclamation with his friends, in part to assuage the fear he could not shake.

He entered Lorness at a gallop; the horse lathered in sweat.

Lord J’shua, protect me from evil men.

The streets were full of people when he reached the herald station, slid from his horse, and marched inside.

The herald, grinning, held out a hand to take the offered parchment. “You were successful?”

Jonathan smiled back, and gave the parchment a shake.

Calling his men in from the barn, the herald told them, “We have an important proclamation from the king. Look lively.” He ushered Jonathan outside to the waiting crowd. “Hear ye, hear ye, a proclamation by King Edal, Ruler of the Kingdom of Freislicht. Whereas: We have taken into Our Royal Consideration recent grievances…”

Jonathan’s heart lifted as he watched the people while the herald read the proclamation. It was better than they’d hoped. Whoever had their loved ones must return them.

Afterward, the men who’d signed the petition slapped Jonathan’s back and thanked him.

He was happy for them, but he could only worry about his daughter. And where was Rebekah? The only reason his wife would have stolen a horse would be to give chase. And what delayed the other courier? Joy was short-lived for him.

Who would be so bold as to intercept a rider from the king?

Jonathan pushed aside his suspicion of Gaelib. The proclamation would also trouble other nobles and rich men. Any of them could have sent men to bribe or kill the courier. Jonathan had to deliver the proclamation to the last and most northern town, Dunis Glen. He carried on.

Owakar

It was the full moon of summer, the twenty-ninth year in the reign of King Edal, three and a half moons had passed with no reprimands.

Oh, no. I forgot to check the luach and almost missed it. Owakar arrived in time to see the knight spook the highwaymen’s horses and wound the older one. Ah. Guardians follow him already. They gave the older highwayman a touch of dizziness to make sure he had no thought to follow the knight. The watcher waited to make sure.

The wounded man grimaced. As he watched the knight race away, he said, “Rosey didn’a tell me ‘e was armed.” He raised his bloody arm, dropping the accent. “Don’t follow him, Rhay-Rhay.”

“But it’s so much money, Quorin.” The fuzzy bearded one said, turning to see the knight disappear in the pouring rain.

“Living is more important. Especially since I’ve been reduced to…this.” He grabbed a leather thong and tied it above the gash. “Well, don’t just gawp, Rhaylth. Help me. I’d rather not lose any more blood.”

Nodding, Rhaylth dismounted and pulled the tourniquet tight. “It’s more money than I’ve ever seen. Couldn’t we—”

“No. That was a Knight of J’shua. Had I known that beforehand, I’d have charged triple. But as it is, Rosewud thinks he hired a fool named Caydin.” He grinned, “A bit uv a no-hop’r, ya know?”

“Oh.”

“That’s why I spoke to Rosewud without you. You’ve no talent for doing voices. It’s also why…” he slapped a saddlebag that jingled pleasantly, “I insisted on half up front. And it seems Rosewud didn’t care if we survived or not so I doubt he’ll come looking for us. Since we failed, I suppose we’ll have to keep working for the Order.”

“Oh.”

“Stop saying that and bandage my arm. I can’t keep this tourniquet tight for long.”

“Yes, Quorin.”

The beating rain became a drizzle.

Owakar added everything to the luach.

Jonathan Otual may not have needed any help, but Owakar was determined to do everything he could to get him and his family through these dark times.

The times were getting darker. Owakar had been reading the history of the country of Freislicht and the Grand Destiny in the luach. That is what their teachers called it. The time when the Writings of J’shua had spread, and circles sprang up all over the kingdom.

One hundred and forty-four years ago, a man crawled out of the water and collapsed on the beach of the Sea of Glass. A child found him and ran for his father. Others came running, also having seen a body from the road nearby. A young woman put her hand to his face and felt a breath.

“He’s alive! Carry him to the inn.”

“Should we? He has been spat out by the Sea of Glass. Perhaps the Gods wish to test him,” one man said.

Another said, “See the debris of his ship,” pointing to the rubble rocking on the surf. “The Sea of Glass is calm. He must have angered the Gods.”

Nonsense,” the woman responded, “he is a gift to us from the Gods. Perhaps we are being tested.”

So they took the man to an inn and tended him.

After he recovered, he shared a strange doctrine; that the Gods that the people worshipped were only children of the God of Truth, the first beings made by the Creator that He had charged to govern the world. And he explained that some of them had rebelled against their Father and ruled the people irresponsibly or worse.

Then a trunk washed ashore a week later with other wreckage, which they brought to him. He opened the box and drew out clothes, and also a large book of ancient writings. The man explained that he was a Knight of J’shua.

He shared about J’shua Ha Mashiach and the God of Truth who had sent him, but his people expected a Warrior, and he came as a shepherd so they refused to hear him. Then Nachash, the great serpent, ordered him killed. But after three days and three nights, he was shone to hundreds of his followers to be alive. The God of Truth had raised him from the dead!

Many balked at the man’s sayings, but he spoke the beautiful words of the God of Truth and healed many people who had been sick with palsy and blind men, also. The word of this spread, and he was called to Farr Castle because the King was there. King Weisheit heard this man and believed him. Then the King also spoke the beautiful words of the God of Truth.

The Great Destiny is the prophecy the King gave to the people that our land would prosper and grow and become the center of the world for all the people would spread the good news of J’shua to other lands. He also said that when darkness came upon the land, and the people faltered, they should be renewed in the Word of J’shua by hearing the Knight who will teach them to see the light again. After this, every village was to have a circle, and the Fellowship of the Knights of J’shua was created to teach men who would spread the Word of J’shua far and wide until the whole world had heard it.

For a time, the circles prospered and most of the people walked in the light, living the law of love. But in recent years, a great many people fell away from caring for one another and their circles diminished.

[And many false prophets shall rise, and shall deceive many. And because iniquity shall abound, the love of many shall wax cold.]

Where is the knight who will bring them back to the light? Perhaps Alocrin knows.

Chapter 35

Rebekah

Done with her appointments and with many baden in her pouch, Rebekah entered the herald’s station to read the newest announcements. Then she would head home to the Frei.

Her eyes grew large reading the king’s proclamation. She was no longer a fugitive. They would return her daughter. “When did this arrive?”

“A Knight of J’shua brought it yesterday.”

“Can you describe him?”

“Straight, light blond hair, about average height, I’d say.”

She stifled a gasp, and her body tingled with bittersweet joy.

Jon!

“Do you remember anything else?”

“Yes, he tore down a poster. I still have it.” He pulled one out of a stack, showing her the inscription. “He insisted it was released by the king’s proclamation. Then I took down the rest.”

She left, cursing the Serpent for keeping them apart. “Jon, you were so close!”

She pictured Jonathan confronting the king. “You’re still my champion. I miss you so much.” A passage entered her thoughts.

[Wherefore seeing we are encompassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us.]

She dried her tears.

I’m going to confront that drecksa Greysun and get Sarah!

Rebekah headed straight toward Shining Mountain.

First, she must return to the Frei, change her appearance, and tell everyone they could go home. Soon she would recover Sarah.

She’d always told people she met in town that she had a cabin in the foothills of the mountain, so they wouldn’t think anything of her heading that way. But she wouldn’t risk someone following her. So despite the urgency, she rode beyond their camp. Seeing no sign, she disappeared into Frei Forest and doubled back.

Thick underbrush slapped against her as she continued toward the community. A branch snapped.

Someone moved parallel to her.

She urged the horse behind taller cover and readied her bow, holding three arrows in her bow hand. Pinpointing the next sound, she drew.

Just then, a young buck bounded across her path, sporting bulbous buttons where his antlers would soon sprout. He paused for the slightest moment, then leaped away.

With a sigh, she continued on.

When she finally entered the small clearing, children bounded toward her as she dismounted.

“Mother Otual,” one girl exclaimed, reaching out small hands. “Did you bring us a sweet?”

“How’d you know?” she smiled broadly and pulled a bag of oranges from her horse. “Remember to share,” she yelled as the girl ran off.

“Rebekah, did you find him?” Vincent asked.

She nodded. “And much more. I’ll explain later.”

A chorus of “hallos” followed as others surrounded her.

She smiled again, giving each a hug. It surprised her how draining it was to pose as a man. Here she could relax.

“You’re back. We’ve been praying for your safe return.” Teress squeezed her tighter. “Let’s meet at the fire.”

As all gathered to eat around the cook pot, Rebekah gazed at the group and announced, “The king has proclaimed the debt collections unlawful. You can go home!”

Shouts and laughter erupted. Tears of joy ran down their cheeks as one embraced another.

“Praise the God of Truth!”

“Thank J’shua!”

Many wet faces laughed in relief, while anger showed on others. Rebekah shared what she’d heard from the herald.

“We must do something so this doesn’t happen again,” Vincent said, followed by sounds of agreement.

“What can we do?” Frink said. “We are powerless.”

Rebekah stood. “We can pray in the spirit. Prayer is the one thing we can do anywhere and anytime. And we can listen for J’shua’s still, small voice.”

Vincent spoke again, “We should remain here until Rebekah confirms that the proclamation is being obeyed in our home provinces. Let’s discuss this again tomorrow.”

Everyone nodded and spoke their goodnights.

She watched them leave, one by one, as the sparks from the fire rose into the night sky with her prayers.

The next day, Rebekah dismounted from the wagon in front of the commandant’s office and the herald station. She smoothed the flattering blue shift she’d borrowed and ran her fingers through her hair. She entered with her head high, her quiet rage dampening her fear.

“I am here to see Commandant Greysun.” She forced herself to speak quietly and politely to the militet on duty.

“He is out, ma’am.”

“When will—”

“Bring the lady back, Brett,” a gruff voice said from a room behind.

As she entered his office, Greysun stood and buckled his royal red brigandine. With a lecherous smile, he bowed. He was tall. “How can I help you, ma’am?” His arrogant tone was as unpleasant as his expression. He stroked his brown beard as he ogled her up and down.

“I’m Rebekah Otual, here to retrieve my daughter, sold to you three moons ago.”

“Otual…?” The commandant stiffened. “Many children…passed through here. We only kept boys.”

“I was assured that all the cage carts that came to your garrison left empty. She is six and has very blonde hair.”

His frown deepened. “The girls were taken to Madam Bonaforte’s brothel. She may know what became of her.” The officer pointed west. “Go to the one with the green door on the main street. It’s on the right.” Then his eyes dropped to his papers.

Rebekah placed her hands on his desk. “Sir. It is my understanding that you must actively assist in the return of all children unlawfully seized. Have someone escort me.”

Greysun scowled and motioned for a boy to attend her. He was no more than ten, a conscript probably sold by his parents.

The young militet stepped forward and bowed, his small hand resting on the head of an axe in his belt.

Rebekah let out a disgruntled huff.

The boy led the way and opened the green door.

Rebekah entered the brothel, the militet trailing behind. She looked with compassion at the feather-framed faces and scantily clad bodies of exploited children.

She glanced back at the wide-eyed militet, also a child, whose mouth was agape. Touching his shoulder, she said, “Close your mouth, son.”

The decorated ladies glowered at her with calculating eyes. Some snickered, only to be silenced as their matron stepped forward.

Rebekah’s hard gaze locked onto the madame. “According to Commandant Greysun,” she growled, “three moons ago, someone brought my daughter to you with other girls.”

The old woman stiffened and sputtered. “Why don’t you look around for her?” Her eyes narrowed as she smiled.

Terror and hope stole through Rebekah. She went from room to room, the wide-eyed boy following. Thankfully, it was midday, and most were empty. She didn’t find Sarah.

J’shua, where is she?

She wanted to cry but couldn’t.

“Are you satisfied?” The madame’s words were cold, flat.

“No…nor is your obligation to assist me complete. Either Greysun or you are lying. Which is it?”

The madame glared back. “You’ve seen for yourself. But…there were discrepancies. That drecksa Greysun demanded payment for one girl I didn’t receive.”

“What happened to her?”

“How would I know?”

Rebekah knew she’d get no more from the old hag. She turned and left, the boy reluctantly following her out.

Where are you, Sarah?

She looked frantically up and down the street. She didn’t know what to do. She expected to find her and save her—to hold her tight. Someone must have helped her escape. It certainly wasn’t Rosewud. He had no compassion. She must find that young soldier. He was the only one that might have helped her or know where she is.

As she rode, she thought of all the people that were affected by this one evil act. All over Freislicht people had been suffering, with nowhere to turn. But Jonathan’s act, one man’s act, had changed it. What if many acted together?

Thread by thread, a plan formed—a way to root out this evil corruption.

When Rebekah stood by their fire again, she told of J’shua’s inspiration about opposing such evil. “We no longer need to hide here. You can go home, reclaim your lives. But…if we’re to combat this pestilence, we must cover every town in Freislicht in prayer, every suspicious place anointed for J’shua.”

She told them the plan that J’shua gave her: training, spying, praying, and anointing.

“We lost our freedom because we felt no need to defend ourselves. We were too safe, too happy. This has been growing for generations. We all must pray in the spirit without ceasing to guard our hearts and receive direction.”

Mister Frink brushed a stringy lock of hair behind his ear. “We’ve no training. It’s too dangerous.”

Others bobbed their heads in agreement, worry plain on their faces.

A pinecone in the fire popped, sending embers into the heavens.

“Yes, it’s dangerous,” Rebekah said. “You’re afraid. I am too. But I’m sure it is an assignment. The God of Truth will be with us.”

She gazed at each face.

Frink glared back. “That’s fine for you. You’ve a knight for a husband. He’ll have taught you skills to survive. We’ve no such training.”

“J’shua will guide us. Anything we need, we can learn. If the skills are not amongst us, we can seek them out. Would you rather stand by and do nothing?”

“I’d rather not end up in Melazera’s dungeons.” Frink crossed his arms.

Rebekah continued, “There’ll be no condemnation if you return to your old life—”

“Count me out!” Frink stalked off.

When he was out of sight, Rebekah warned, “You all have children to consider. This is a grave commitment not all can accept. Yet, I ask you to pray. Give me your answers tomorrow. Will you return to your old lives and forget all this? Or will you anoint evil places? Or become a spy? All we need do is walk by the spirit.”