That night, I slept, shivered myself awake and tried to sleep again. My bread was gone, eaten. I was hungry, dispirited and now cold.

  The next morning, as I trudged south—staying off the main caravan route—I came upon two dirty, ragged-looking, vicious men.

  At my approach, they whirled around. They’d been arguing over a loaf of bread. One was dressed in the rags of an Amorite. He had a spear. The other, bigger and bulkier, wore a leather jacket denoting him a giant’s retainer of Emim. He had a bronze sword. The way he held such a weapon marked one who knew how to use it. They turned and glared at me, with the loaf of bread on a dirty blanket between them.

  The Amorite raised his spear as if to cast it.

  “Halt!” the other said. “He looks like he’s one of us.”

  “Does it matter?” the Amorite asked. “We have one loaf.”

  “You fool. Three is better than two. We have a long way to go and might yet bump into runners from the East.”

  The Amorite lowered his spear.

  “What’s your name?” the retainer asked.

  I stared at him.

  He slapped his chest, “I’m Ram. I was an attendant to Imel.”

  I nodded. Imel was an Emim giant. “I’m Damon. I stood with Kron.”

  “I thought I recognized you. You were the outlander.”

  “I’ve heard of you, too,” the Amorite said. “My name is Esau. You were the merchandise of Jethro.”

  “I wasn’t anyone’s merchandise. I was a free man. That’s why Jethro had me fight Kron.”

  “Right,” Ram said. “That was you. You actually cut him. Nobody ever did that before…until he died. We’d be a fool not to let you join us.” He turned to glare at Esau.

  Esau grumbled, nodding in the end.

  “We’ll cut the bread three ways,” Ram said. “Then we’ll continue to Mount Seir.”

  Ram held out his arm. I stepped near and gripped it, a warrior’s handshake. Afterward, Ram divided the bread, handing out the chunks.

  We devoured our pieces like starving dogs.

  Soon, I was licking the crumbs, my spirits improved. There were three of us, three deadly fighters.

  We headed south, keeping off the main Trade Road but keeping it in view. We caught glimpses of Eastern runners. Several times, they led strings of captives, prodding them with their javelins.

  That night, we slept in a ravine, one of us always keeping guard in the starlight.

  In the morning, we were hungry and irritable. Unless we found food, and soon—

  From a higher vantage, Esau pointed out a lone hut. It wouldn’t have been visible from the Trade Road. There were plots of land around it.

  “Food,” Esau said.

  Ram grinned.

  I didn’t like his evil intent, but I was starving. If I didn’t get enough food, I was never going to make it. None of us were.

  He headed to the hut, watching warily in case dogs or men attacked, or in case Eastern runners tried to ambush us.

  None of that happened. We approached the door. No dog barked. No man gave a warning, nor did a woman or child.

  Ram tried the door. It was barred. “Open up,” he said, hammering against the door.

  “Go away,” a timid man said from behind the door.

  Esau ran around the hut, finding a window. It, too, was barred. He hammered on it. “Open up or you’ll die!”

  There was silence. I listened against a wall, hearing whispering from within.

  “What do you want?” the timid man asked.

  “Food,” Ram said, “Give us food.”

  “And you’ll go away?”

  “Of course,” Ram said, glancing at Esau and me with a knowing look.

  Esau readied his spear. Ram had his sword out.

  We heard the bar slide away. The flimsy door opened. A scrawny man in rags looked at us. Behind him was an even scrawnier, dirty-faced woman.

  Before I could say anything, Esau ran the man through with the spear, driving him into the hut. The man cried out in agony. Esau pulled out the spear and smote him across the face with the end, killing him. He laughed.

  I was appalled. We’d told them what we’d do. We were warriors, men of our word.

  Esau snarled and grabbed the woman with his free hand. She was too scared to resist.

  I barged into the hut, seizing Esau by the scruff of his collar, throwing him against a wall.

  He snarled, gripping his spear with two hands.

  I had my dagger out, ready to kill him.

  “Don’t do it, Damon,” Ram said from outside.

  After two seconds, I nodded. “You already slew her man. Take what food you want but leave her alone.”

  “I want a woman,” Esau said.

  “As do I,” Ram said, who’d stepped into the hut with us.

  “No!” I said, setting myself against them.

  We’d killed her husband, or father—I didn’t know which. They weren’t going to rape the woman while I was here.

  “Take the food,” I said. “That’s it.”

  Esau and Ram glanced at each other. I had a feeling they were about to charge.

  Swiftly, feeling a sense of rightness, I lunged at Esau, knocking his spear-blade aside. He tried to twist away from me. I put my blade under his throat. He froze.

  “Do you disagree with me?” I asked.

  I maneuvered Esau so Ram was no longer at my back. He hadn’t yet raised his sword, but I could see the calculation in his eyes.

  “No,” Ram said, “We don’t dispute you. We leave the girl. Esau, gather the food. I’m going to talk with Damon.”

  “Girl,” I said. I saw now she wasn’t yet a woman, just a tall, skinny kid. “Come here.”

  She came to me and stayed near as I walked out of the hut with Ram.

  “Don’t be a fool,” Ram said. “We must all stick together.”

  “We’re not raping women,” I said.” Nor should we have slain the man. That was wrong.”

  “Wrong? The strong always take from the weak. That’s the way of the world.”

  I shook my head. “We don’t want to bring any more bad luck on us than we already have.” As I said that, I realized that bad luck had stalked me throughout my mission to and in the land of Canaan.

  Ram stared at me. He was easy to read. He nodded curtly, “So, be it.”

  Shortly, Esau, Ram, and I left the hut, left the girl with the slain man—her father, no doubt.

  I felt shame for what had happened to her. My two companions were little better than wolves. I’d make sure never to turn my back on either of them.

  Chapter Fourteen

  After that, I wondered if bad luck indeed stalked us.

  Runners and swordsmen of the East had gotten ahead of us, blocking our path. We had to make long careful detours over rough country, using forest, scrub and crawling on our bellies or hiding in dread as those of the East passed us.

  The food we’d gathered from the miserable hut was soon gone, leaving us nothing once again. We’d stolen cloaks and thus no longer shivered at night. That meant I slept better, but I was beginning to doubt we’d reach Mount Seir.

  The worst was when far down along the Trade Road we saw glittering points of metal. It indicated spearmen and mules, hordes of them. The main army of the East marched toward the Horites around Mount Seir.

  Had Chedorlaomer broken into Shaveh Kiriathaim? Had he slain the last of the giants of the Emim?

  We didn’t know. We were dogs desperate to survive: me, willing to do just about anything those two, willing to do anything.

  The next morning, with our empty stomachs glued to our spines, Ram said, “We’re going to have to do something different. I’m famished, starting to feel weak.”

  Esau glowered. “All I can think about is that woman I didn’t get to—”

  “Shut up,” Ram said. “Be serious, will you?”

  I eyed them.

  Would they be willing to butcher me and gnaw on my flesh as cannibals? They spoke with each other more than they ever did me. The time in the hut had been a dividing line. I was different from them, not fallen into such despicable ways.

  We eased through the protective thicket, soon setting foot onto a mountain path.

  A shout rang out behind us. Ram, Esau and I turned in horror.

  Six Eastern runners with scraggly faces dashed up the path at us. They moved with the ease of goats, swiftly, carrying javelins.

  Esau jumped off the path and slid down the slope, down the side of the grassy hill. He began running, going faster than seemed possible. Surely, he’d trip and tumble any second.

  Then Ram and I ran after him. It was the only chance we had.

  A glance over my shoulder showed the runners following at a more leisurely, steady pace.

  Soon, I was desperate for air, my side aching with savage pains.

  “We’ll never make it,” Ram panted.

  Esau eyed him. We’d caught up to him. The Amorite bastard nodded.

  That got my attention. What was Esau going to do?

  Nothing, as it turned out.

  Ram drew his sword. I heard it scrape free of its scabbard. As I turned toward him, he slashed at my right leg.

  I yelped, jumping. He cut my thigh, wounding instead of incapacitating me. I tripped just the same, howled in rage and pain, tumbling across the grassy ground.

  “You first,” Ram shouted, sprinting away, leaving me.

  Esau laughed harshly, following Ram.

  I jumped to my feet. Agony struck my leg as trickles of blood ran down it. I turned in a different direction and ran, limping.

  The bastard had cut me.

  The Spartan master-at-arms had once told me about an old trick. How do you escape a charging bear while in the company of others? We—his students at the time—had shaken our heads. “You stab a man in the leg and let the bear catch him while the rest of you escape.”

  That was what Ram had done to me. He’d sacrificed me in order that they might escape.

  I limp-ran, throwing wild glances over my shoulder. No runners followed me yet. Once they did, they’d catch me with ease.

  If those of the East caught me, I’d lose my dagger, certainly, maybe lose much more. I’d never slay Abram, would never return to Knossos to collect my riches. The Minotaur had promised me a crown. Could he have meant as the king of Athens, one of his cherished servants?

  I jumped down a gully, sliding. My wounded thigh ached and bled. I hobbled into a dense thicket. There, I tied a cloth around it to stanch the bleeding. That served two purposes, one so I’d no longer leave a blood-droplet trail.

  In moments, I heard shouting…at me. Trying to still my labored breathing, I listened. I heard the pounding of feet. How much of a blood trail had I left? It sounded like two of them, two runners. They’d split up, I guessed.

  Could I kill two runners in my present condition? I didn’t think so. I was wounded and exhausted, and felt defeated in my heart. They’d hurl javelins into me before I could ever reach them.

  While trying to control my frightened panting, trying to come up with a plan, I saw a fox watching me.

  The fox looked at me for a time, gazing oddly. What did that mean? Before I could figure it out, the fox turned and trotted away.

  A wild plan exploded into existence. Could the Minotaur know my plight, giving me the strength and cunning I needed to survive? I’d hide. It was the only way to escape the runners.

  Yet, where could I hide so they couldn’t find me?

  I jumped onto a fallen log and limp-ran across it. I used stones—the fox I’d been trailing dashed into a hole, possibly his den in the ground. I wouldn’t have seen the hidden den if the fox hadn’t just done that.

  I hurried to the hole, hissing a warning.

  The fox looked out, saw me, and bolted, taking off running. In seconds, he was gone, probably for good.

  Frantic, near panic, I went to the hole. The opening was narrow compared to my shoulders, but it was bigger than a normal fox’s den. Perhaps wolves had used it before, widening it. Bush branches had grown over it, partly hiding it.

  As carefully as I could so as not to disturb anything and leave tracks or blood, I slithered and squeezed through the opening. In the tight confines of the den, in the earth, I found it difficult to breathe. The stench of fox and carrion was strong. In truth, it was suffocating in here. Despite that, I maneuvered around and pushed dirt toward the opening. I kept doing that until most of the hole was blocked with dirt.

  Afterward, I lay still, waiting. As I waited, I wondered if this was the most foolish decision of my life, or if I’d used unusual cunning.

  Far too soon, I heard men muttering in a foreign tongue. They slashed at the ground with sticks or one of their javelins. One moved practically on top of me. A chance look, some curiosity and he’d find the hole and then me. Yes, he’d shove a javelin into the den, jabbing me. They might both jab as I screamed and cried out for mercy. I’d die a fool.

  “Oh, Minotaur,” I whispered. “Save me. Save me, your servant. I swear to find and slay the acolyte of a strange god, one trying to change the ways of the land of Canaan. I’ll bring you Abram’s head if you save me.”

  Afterward, I hardly dared breathe. I heard footsteps again, waiting for a thrust in my back. I strove to keep from trembling, from howling in despair. The footsteps came nearer—

  I tightened my muscles in dread anticipation.

  There was a shout, a muffled call, as if from farther away.

  The two near the hole muttered. When I heard footsteps again, they receded.

  Had the others called them?

  I bit my tongue to keep from braying with laughter. Perhaps the others needed help against the treacherous Ram and even more nefarious Esau.

  I nodded emphatically. The two rapists and murderers deserved whatever happened to them.

  I endured in the fox’s den. Finally, believing that long enough, I rotated and crawled out, breathing fresh air.

  I stood and raised my hands, foolishly shouting, “Thank you, Minotaur. I’ll do as I’ve promised. You can count on that.”

  A moment later, my senses returned.

  I crouched low, looking left and right. I shuffled around, doing the same in the new direction. I strained to hear.

  In the distance came a terrible cry of anguish. My eyes widened. That sounded like Ram.

  Curiosity overcame my fear. Crouching, moving slowly, partly due to my wounded and stiffened leg, I came to higher ground. I crawled up and looked down.

  The six had caught Ram and Esau. Terror swept through me. Some of them had stretched Ram’s legs so another could castrate him. They’d already done it.

  Ram was curled on the ground, moaning and clutching his mutilated privates.

  Three runners threw Esau down, holding him so the other with his small curved knife could do likewise.

  I swallowed hard. Those of the East turned men into eunuchs, making them slaves indeed.

  Terror mingled with relief. I was glad Ram had cut me so I’d headed elsewhere.

  Slipping away, climbing to my feet, I hobbled away from the runners of the East and their castrating blade.

  I determined to reach Sodom, as I’d never reach the Horites. The army of the kings of the East already headed there.

  With all my cunning, I’d try to reach the Vale of Siddim. I’d warn them of the terrible kings of the East, explaining what their soldiers did to those they captured.

  Chapter Fifteen

  In time, I found a small stream and cleaned my wound the best I could. It was already festering. I headed out, hoping to put more distance between the soldiers of the East and me.

  The next day, I woke with a fever. For two days as the fever worsened, I lay moaning and sleeping. My thirst raged.

  Finally, knowing I’d die without water, trembling, I crawled like a worm. I crawled back to the stream. There, I drank and collapsed from my ordeal.

  I shivered myself awake and drank more. Each time I woke up, I crawled to the shore and drank my fill.

  I was delirious the entire time, dreaming nightmares. In the nightmares, I learned that each people or place that received me after the shipwreck, lost something, or perhaps I should say had terrible luck. The Amurru lost to the slaving Amorites. The Amorites lost to the giants. The giants lost to Chedorlaomer.

  Was there a reason for that?

  After days of delirium, the fever broke. Weak and spent, I climbed to my feet. I wrapped my cloak around me and noticed that the wound was no longer festering, and was now healing. I slowly limped along, making my way in the direction of the Vale of Siddim.

  It was difficult to go far. I wheezed, halted, and sat, resting. Eventually I climbed to my feet and limped until I wheezed again and rested once more.

  At one point, I saw smoke rising from the south. The invader must have reached the outskirts of Mount Seir, beginning to attack the Horites.

  Would the Easterners slay more giants? Would they capture those who’d lived under the protection of giants?

  If the army of the East was engaged against the Horites, hopefully the runners, archers and swordsmen had joined them. That way, they wouldn’t be capturing and castrating those like me. I could actually hope to reach the Vale of Siddim, finding refuge there.

  That evening, I fell in with five desperate souls. They looked like those who’d fought against the king of the East and lost. Wordlessly, they accepted me. They were as wretched as I was, except for one. He had food, a strong warrior, a spear-armed Amorite.

  For some reason, the Amorite took mercy on us, allowing us to march with him. He didn’t offer us food but kept it to himself. He also slept alone, perhaps fearing we’d club him in his sleep.

  I no longer had the strength to take his food, nor did I feel like sneaking up on him in the dark to kill him. I think he would have killed any of us who he caught trying.

  I kept my wonderful dagger hidden in my rags. I endured, coming down from higher territory with them. We headed toward the southern shore of the Salt Sea, toward the lush vegetation of the Vale of Siddim.

  The next day, we spied fruit trees in the distance. Later, a shepherd boy watched us.