In the dim light I took one of the poles in my hands and jabbed it at the bricks. A dull chunking sound, and a few flakes of dried mud fell away.
“This is going to be slow work,” I said.
“And noisy,” Lukka pointed out. “Especially if we work at night, they’ll hear us from inside the city.”
He was right, as usual.
We scuttled out of the tunnel like a pair of rodents scrabbling through their lair. The bright sun and air of daylight seemed wonderful, despite the heat.
“No night work,” I said to Lukka. “The time we might gain isn’t worth the risk of being discovered.”
“When we get close to the main wall, they’ll hear us chipping away even in the daytime,” he said.
“We’ll have to think of something, then.”
It was Joshua who thought of the solution. That night, when I told him we were getting close enough to be heard inside the city, he curled his fingers through his beard for several long moments, then looked up with a fierce smile.
“We will make so much noise that they will never hear your diggers at work,” he said. “We will make a joyful noise unto the Lord.”
I was not certain that his plan made any sense, but Joshua insisted that all would be well and told me to resume digging in the morning.
On my way back to my own tent that evening, as the sun dipped below the western mountains, turning them deep violet and the sky a blazing golden red, a stranger stepped in front of me.
“Orion,” he whispered. “Come with me.”
He was muffled in a long gray robe with a dark burnoose over it, the hood thrown over his head and hiding the features of his face.
But I knew who he was, and followed him wordlessly as he picked his way through the tents of the Israelite camp and out across the green field toward the distant river.
“This is far enough,” I said at last. “We can stop here. Even if you glow like a star no one from the camp will notice.”
He laughed, a low chuckle deep in his throat. “Not much chance of my putting out enough radiation for them to find me.”
By them, I knew he did not mean the Israelites.
“You are helping these people to overcome Jericho. That pleases me.”
“Will I be able to leave for Egypt once Jericho is taken?” I asked.
“Of course.” He seemed surprised that I asked.
“And you will revive Athene?”
“I will try, Orion. I will try. I can promise nothing more. There are difficulties — enormous difficulties. They are trying to stop me.”
“I know.”
“They’ve contacted you?”
“I contacted them. They think you’ve gone mad.”
He laughed again. Bitterly. “I struggle alone to uphold the continuum — theircontinuum — so that they can continue to exist. I stand between them and utter destruction. I protect the Earth and my creatures with every particle of my strength and wisdom. And they call that madness. The fools!”
“Hera told me that if I help you, she and the others will destroy me.”
In the shadow of his hood I could not make out the features of his face. It was the first time I had met the Golden One that he did not radiate light and splendor.
When he failed to reply, I added, “And you have warned me that if I fail to help you, you will destroy me.”
“And you have told me, Orion, that you want to destroy me. A pretty situation.”
“Can you revive Athene?”
“If I can’t, no one else can. No one else would even try, Orion. It takes a… madman, like me, to even attempt such a thing.”
“Then I will continue to help you.”
“And you will tell me exactly what they say to you, whenever they contact you again.”
“If you wish,” I said.
“I do not wish, Orion. I command. I can see your thoughts as clearly as words written across the sky in fire. You cannot hide anything from me.”
“Then you see your own death.”
He laughed, with genuine humor this time. “Ah, Orion, you truly believe that you can conquer the gods.”
“You are not gods. You can delude ignorant nomads such as Joshua and his people, but I know you better.”
“Of course you do,” he patronized. “Now, get back to your Helen and let her try to wheedle you off to Egypt again.”
There was nothing he did not know, I realized. He stood before me, and even in his disguise I could sense his condescending smile.
“Tell me one thing,” I asked. “Why is Jericho so important? Why are these people of Joshua’s so dear to your heart? Once you said that you are not so egocentric as to be pleased when people worship you. Is that still true?”
For a moment or two he did not answer. When he finally did, his voice was low and serious. “Yes, it is still true, Orion. It is pleasant to have my creatures adore me, I admit. But the real reason for Jericho, the real reason I will bring these people to rule this land of Canaan, is to humble those others who seek to thwart my plans. They stopped me at Troy, with your help. They will not stop me here!”
I had no reply to his words.
“They think me mad, do they? We shall see who is the true protector of the continuum. They will all bow to me, Orion. All of them!”
He turned and walked toward the river alone. I watched him in the deepening shadows of night, as the stars came out one by one, until his figure had disappeared into the darkness.
Chapter 30
“THIS could destroy all our plans, all our hopes.”
Ben-Jameen’s youthful face looked very grave. He stood in my tent alongside Lukka, with one of the Hatti soldiers behind, head hung low, two other soldiers flanking him, and a small angry crowd of Israelite men standing just outside in ominous silence.
Helen sat in the far corner of the tent, on a wooden chair that had been given to me by one of Ben-Jameen’s brothers. One of the women had brought her a soft, feathered cushion, gaily decorated in bold stripes of red and blue.
But Ben-Jameen ignored her and said to me, “This Hittite soldier has had his way with one of the young women of my tribe, and now refuses to do the right thing by her.”
I was surprised, almost stunned, at this. For weeks now we had lived in the Israelite camp without a hint of trouble. Hardly any of the women would have anything to do with men who were not of their own tribes. The few who did, young widows and the rare unmarried woman who did not worry about her virginity, had been enough to keep Lukka and his men reasonably happy.
But now one of the young women demanded marriage as the price of her lovemaking.
I looked at Lukka. His face was grimly impassive as he stood before me. I saw that his sword was at his side. Ben-Jameen, standing beside him, looked almost like a child: smaller, slimmer, his youthful face unlined, unscarred by battle. But he was representing the honor of his tribe.
“Bring the man before me,” I said.
Lukka raised a hand. “With your permission, my lord, I will speak for the prisoner.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“It is customary among us,” said Lukka. “I am his commanding officer. I am responsible for his conduct.”
So that was the way the game would be played, I said to myself. Lukka was standing between me and the accused man. If I wanted to mete out punishment, it would have to touch Lukka first.
Ben-Jameen glanced at the bearded soldier, and seemed to understand what Lukka’s words implied.
“The young lady in question,” I asked Ben-Jameen, “was she forced?”