The Book of War Page 4
The wise man was grateful to them, not only for his life but more so that they had not betrayed his trust by revealing the secret entrance to the city to the invading army. He felt almost light-headed after the unbearable weight of the accountability for the destruction of the city had been lifted from him. Although he was hungry and tired, and despite all the tumults and tribulations the day had brought, he had an overwhelming sense of gratitude. Going away to a quiet corner between some bales of hay, he fell on his knees and prayed. There exhaustion took him and he fell asleep.
When he awoke, it was night. Someone had placed a blanket over him. While he was stiff and sore, he now knew what he had to do. He had to go back to the city.
****
The feeling of dread had grown slowly inside him as he had made his journey back to the city and as he emerged from the hidden channel into the dry pond in the city, he felt fear like a weight on his shoulders. He looked around him but all was quiet. He didn’t know what he expected to see. Perhaps, armed guards patrolling the streets. But all he saw was a dreary emptiness which had the distinct air of defeat.
He carefully made his way in the shadows thrown by the moonlight, heading not towards the palace but towards the gardens where Sarai and he had often walked. They were not the royal gardens but rather a significantly paler imitation which had been maintained by a rich merchant as a place to entertain and promote himself.
As he made his way, he saw a huddled mass of clothing semi-covered by shadow. He would have walked on by had he not noticed human flesh sticking out from underneath. When he went closer, he noticed that, in the moonlight, the clothing had unusual patterning but then he realised that the “patterning” was actually the darkening of the cloth by blood.
The body of the half-dressed woman was lying face down on the ground. Gently, almost delicately, as a chilling coldness like ice ran through his veins, he turned the body around to show the face. With an unconscious release, he let go of the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, as he saw with relief that the face was not Sarai’s. The wise man stayed a moment to say a prayer for the unknown woman before fear compelled him to move on.
Eventually, he found his way to the gardens he was seeking. Anxiously, he looked around the garden, his heart beating quickly as he sought out any sign of his beloved. The still night was empty and silent and there was no breeze to stir the heavy aroma of the flowers which lay like a thick blanket throughout the garden. In the centre, was a small pond covered thickly with water plants and reeds. Beyond the pond, there were some thick bushes and trees and to these he now headed.
“Husband! Can it be you?” cried Sarai from the shadow of the trees as she rushed forward into the wise man’s arms, tears streaming down her face as she embraced him. For a long moment they held each other, Sarai’s body heaving as she sobbed into his chest.
When they broke apart, the wise man suddenly felt cold and empty. His face and hands felt numb and his legs weak. The crippling fear and dread, the physical and mental exhaustion sapped the strength from his legs and he fell to the ground weeping.
He wept for the unknown woman who had perished by the hands of violence.
He wept for joy at finding his beloved Sarai alive.
He cried for the city and its people, his friends, relatives, neighbours who were now lost to him. He cried for the young men who were cut down in battle, and their family and friends from whom they were torn. He cried for those who were now poor, destitute and homeless, from whom War had taken the bread from their mouths.
He cried in thanksgiving for the joy of the breath of his body and the beat of his heart and the overwhelming, unconquerable Love that poured overflowing into and out of his heart.
He sat in the dirt and cried as he felt himself emptied of all self-delusion, all self-conceit and, for that matter, all human thought and emotion other than the uncontrollable, aching, body-shaking sobs which welled up unstoppably from the depths of his soul.
The wise man sat on the earth and wept like a new-born baby as he was being filled, held, wrapped and cradled in the Arms of Divine Love.
****
When eventually he came to himself again, he found himself being held by Sarai, tears pouring down her own cheeks. While his eyes and mouth were sore and his throat dry, the rest of his body felt unusually free as the tension which had been binding them for so long no longer restricted him. An all-pervading quietness encompassed his mind and body and there was a piercing clarity to his thought which he had never experienced before. A quiet yet joyful energy flowed across the muscles of his chest as he moved. He did not know where it had come from, or why in the middle of chaos, he had found it but the calmness of his mind was undeniable. Somehow, in the midst of War he had found peace.
Beyond Sarai he noticed two other figures laying low, half-concealed in the bushes. As his eyes adjusted, he recognised them as his nephew and his nephew’s wife.
Knowing that while they remained in the city they were in danger of being discovered and then their lives would then be in the hands of foreigners and strangers, he quickly explained to the others how he had been rescued from death and had found refuge at the concealed farmhouse.
Carefully, he led the small party back the way he had come. The streets were unnervingly quiet as if the quietness that had infiltrated the wise man’s mind and heart, now engulfed the small group cushioning them from the danger that lay around them.
Moving quickly to the now familiar hidden escape route, the small group left the city for the final time.
When they finally arrived at the small farmhouse, the first light of dawn was showing over the horizon. The travellers greeted the new arrivals warmly and showed them to places where they could rest and gave them food.
The wise man left his family in the hands of the travellers and went to his private place to meditate. It was now time he thought to go back to the other world for one last time. He breathed deeply, finding in his mind the small cracks between the worlds and pushing through them. He felt himself being pulled, his mind careering over the landscape, as if drawn relentlessly until he came to a halt just in the immediate outskirts of the city. Towering over the city was War, twice as large as before with millions of human figures making up the vast giant.
War turned as the wise man arrived and bent down to look at the wise man more closely.
“Ah, it is Nobody of Any Importance. So, what do you think, Nobody? How easily this city fell to me. And my strength grows. Do you think there is any city, land, people or nation that will be able to stand against me?” War asked proudly.
The wise man said nothing as he looked at the city which had been his home. War had lowered his head to look at him and he noticed amongst the many figures which made War’s massive curling beard was a woman holding a baby.
“No. There is no city, land, people or nation that can stand against me,” War roared. “All men will fear me and all men will honour and worship me. Young men will leave mothers, fathers, wives and children to make glorious and eternal names for themselves in the fields of War. For the glory of men will be the glory of War!
“There will be no place on earth that will not be touched by the flame of War and men will build bigger and better weapons to honour me. Terrifying weapons so powerful that they will annihilate millions in a blink of eye; tearing apart the very particles of their beings and scattering them to the four winds.”
The voice of War rolled over the hills and plains like the rumbling of a thousand war chariots.
The wise man felt War’s deafening roar vibrate through his body and almost cringed at the intense fierceness of War’s presence and gaze as he looked down upon him. He struggled to find the peace he had found a few hours ago.
“There is one thing greater than you,” the wise man eventually replied, “God.”
“God?” War roared angrily. “And where is this God of yours? Is he afraid of me? Is that why he hides f
rom me? If he is greater than me let him show himself and challenge me.”
The wise man felt the raw power of War’s anger and was momentarily daunted by the fury that almost overwhelmed him.
“The God who dwells in Eternity cannot be encompassed by this world or any other world, nor can He be encompassed by the human mind. You are therefore incapable of perceiving Him,” the wise man eventually stated.
“But God is. And He was from All Eternity and will be to All Eternity. For He is the Source and Destination of all things.
“But as for you, when men stop fearing you, and when they stop hating, and being greedy for power and gain, then you will fade away.
“And God will raise up a New Man. Not one made of clay, nor one bound together in fear, hatred and greed but rather One whose members will be woven together in Spirit and Truth.
“And this New Man will live and have life because God will dwell within Him.
“And He will break the yokes of the captives and make their burdens light. He will quench the thirst of the thirsty and to those who are hungry He will give bread. He will heal the sick and He will open the eyes of the blind.
“And His enemies will be unable to stand against Him because His sword will be Love and his shield Truth.”
****
The wise man finished tying the last of the provisions to the donkey and gave the sullen and wary animal a friendly pat on the neck. For its part, the donkey acknowledged the wise man’s presence with a slight turning of its ears.
The wise man noticed Sarai standing and looking in the direction of the city, the place that had been her only world for so long. He went and placed his arms around her.
“O Abram,” she said turning to him, “What will become of us?”
Abram drew her close to him and replied, “God will lead us to a new land. A better land than this one. A land that flows with milk and honey.” For Sarai’s sake he tried to sound more confident than he felt.
“But how will we live? How will we survive?” she asked.
Abram turned her to face him and said with a faint smile on his face, “Abram the wise man died in the city. You are now looking at Abram the shepherd.”
After holding her briefly, Abram left her to see the others and how their preparations for the journey were proceeding. It was surprising how long it took now that they had livestock and provisions for the travellers to get ready to leave the farm. Perhaps it was a reluctance to leave this small oasis of comfort even though they all knew how temporary it was and how dangerous it was to stay.
But finally they were ready and so Abram, Sarai, Abram’s nephew Lot and his wife, and the travellers began their journey to the Promised Land.
###****###
Thank you for reading my book. If you enjoyed it, wont you please take a moment to leave me a review at your favorite retailer?
Thanks!
M L Lucas