A hand closed over mine. I peered into Yonaton’s eyes, afraid of finding pity there, but seeing only understanding. Yonaton took the sword and plunged it into the soldier’s chest. The man twitched on the end of the blade, then went still.
I gawked at the bloody sword, then crashed to my knees. The little food I’d eaten the night before came up first, followed by heaves of bile.
“Come on!” Yonaton pulled at my tunic. “There are more of them.” He yanked the heavy weapon from the corpse and sprinted back toward the heart of the battle.
I pulled myself upright—my master needed me. Wiping the mess from my face, I ran after Yonaton.
In the clearing, the hawk-eyed soldier still chased Shimon. Uriel smashed his staff into the nose of the stocky soldier’s horse, and the rider grabbed at the reins to keep his balance as the horse reared. While he fought to get the horse back under control, Uriel slipped in closer, pummeling blows upon them both. Once the soldier regained his seat, he brandished his sword to hold off Uriel’s assault.
But the stocky soldier’s focus was diverted from the rest of the battle for a moment too long. Shimon saw the opening and veered toward the center of the clearing. The hawk-eyed soldier giving chase called out, but to no avail—all his comrade’s attention was fixed on fending off Uriel’s attack. He spun at the sound of a horse bearing down on him, but too late. Shimon jammed my knife into the soldier’s neck. His eyes bulged and his jaw sank as he looked down upon the hilt of the knife protruding from his throat. He toppled sideways off the horse as the animal broke free.
The hawk-eyed soldier shrieked at the sight of his companion’s collapse. He swiped at Uriel as he rode past, but the prophet blocked the blow easily with his staff. He rode on after Shimon, who was now unarmed.
Yonaton called out, “Here!” and thrust the blood-stained sword in the air. Shimon’s horse leapt forward, and I launched a rock at the soldier to hold him back. Shimon snatched the weapon from Yonaton’s hand and spun in time to block a thrust from the hawk-eyed soldier’s sword.
Now Shimon had no need to run. He closed in on his adversary. Shimon’s sword descended like a bolt, and the soldier raised his blade to block it. The clang of iron on iron sounded through the clearing as the soldier’s sword broke off its hilt from the force of the blow. Shimon swung his sword in a wide circle around his head, then struck true. The soldier tumbled from his horse. His body slammed to the ground with a thud, followed by his head, which rolled to a rest at Uriel’s feet, hawk-eyes gaping up at the old prophet.
Hillel said: Be among the disciples of Aharon, loving peace and pursuing peace, loving people and bringing them closer to Torah.
Pirkei Avot 1:12
16
Yochanan’s Secret
“I don’t understand.” Shimon groaned as he and Uriel laid one of the slain prophets beside the ruined house.
“Tell me everything, from the beginning.” Uriel approached the next of the fallen.
“I’ve been here since I left you. You were right; it was better for me here among the masters than it was among the disciples. The Queen’s soldiers rode up at sunset, eight of them. Three of us went out to greet them with food—we had no idea. Foolish as it was, that probably saved my life. I don’t think that anyone in the house managed to—Lev, no!”
I jumped back at the rebuke. Yonaton and I had approached one of the bodies—why shouldn’t we try to help? Did Shimon think we couldn’t carry the body? And why did he yell only at me? Yonaton was a bit stronger, but not by much.
Uriel edged over to my side, making himself a barrier between me and the dead. “Yes, why don’t the two of you gather wood for the morning meal. We will need all of our strength.”
My master’s tone was softer than Shimon’s, but his command no less clear. I bit back my response, and the two of us retreated from the line of bodies to the first row of trees, where we gathered sticks in silence so as not to miss a word.
Shimon hovered over another of the fallen prophets. “The details of the battle are not important. You see the results before you.”
“Did anyone else survive?”
“I think not. We’ll know for certain once we have gathered everyone.” He studied the blackened corpse at his feet. “I hid in a cave last night.”
Uriel placed a hand on Shimon’s shoulder. “Flight is also courage when it holds hope for return.”
Shimon nodded. “The ram’s horn roused me. I wasn’t sure if the blast was from friend or foe, so I crept back, keeping to the shelter of the trees. Then I saw one of them go after the boys, so I attacked. I managed to plant my knife in him, and he rode off. Coward. I knew he must be going after you. I couldn’t help you barehanded, so I asked Lev for Yochanan’s knife.”
Shimon limped to the body that still had my father’s knife protruding from its neck. He placed a foot on the soldier’s back and grasped the hilt. The knife slid out with a jerk. Shimon plunged it into the soft earth a few times to remove the blood, wiped the blade with his palm, and brought the weapon to Uriel.
Uriel examined the knife. “Yes, Lev has shown it to me. For the second time, this blade has saved your life.”
“Indeed. But it is a tool of peace, not war. It should never have been used to kill a man.”
Uriel rotated the knife, as if examining it for flaws. “It hardly seems you had a choice.”
Shimon’s forehead sunk toward the ground. “No, there was no choice. Not this time, and not when Yochanan used it to save me.” Shimon sighed. “You know, just before it happened, I…I saw him.”
Neither of them heard the branches fall from my arms.
Uriel fixed his eyes on Shimon. “You saw Yochanan?”
He nodded once. “I touched the flat of the blade to my forehead and closed my eyes. I recalled that day years ago. My fear, his sacrifice. I was filled with death, the injustice of Yochanan’s murder, the horror of yesterday’s massacre, and the evil of them trying to kill you now…” Shimon’s posture straightened to the height of that morning’s battle. “And that’s when it happened.”
Uriel’s eyes bored in on his disciple. Even Yonaton stopped pretending to gather wood. “What did you feel?”
“Power, like nothing I’ve ever felt. Yesterday I injured my ankle running away, but when I took off after that soldier, I felt no pain—and I ran faster than I ever have.” Shimon’s hands stretched out in wonder.
“Clarity.” Shimon closed his eyes. “I could see every needle on the trees, feel every whisper of the wind. When I charged into battle, I didn’t have to decide what to do. My body just…knew. I leapt onto the back of that horse as if it were a pony!” Shimon’s eyes popped open, cutting creases across his scars.
“Did you feel anything else?”
“Courage, no fear at all. Last night, I couldn’t sleep, despite my exhaustion. I shook all night, petrified that they might hunt me down. But this morning, I wasn’t afraid anymore. And so strong. I snapped that soldier’s sword in two—I can’t do that.”
“How did it end?”
“When the last soldier fell, I felt it just…flow out of me. The fear hasn’t returned, but my leg is throbbing, and well…” he glanced at his hands, “I won’t be shattering any more swords.”
Uriel managed a weak smile. “You have sought navua for many years, but it always eluded you. Most disciples either succeed or abandon their path—but you persisted. Now you taste the fruits of your commitment.”