We turned toward him, hoping he’d have food to spare.

  The boy fled, his dog barking at us before running after his master.

  We debated killing a sheep and roasting its flesh.

  “That’s a bad idea,” the Amorite said.

  We glared at him.

  “It’s a good way to get hanged,” he said. “Have no doubt the boy will bring others. If you’ve harmed their sheep…” He shook his head.

  He had a point, a hard and honest one. We left the sheep and continued along a trail. We trudged along for a time, the way wandering this way and that, and then stopped short. Ahead of us on the trail was spilled food.

  We shouted and rushed forward as one, dropping to our knees. I crammed food into my mouth, hardly chewing but swallowing. Others beside me did likewise. One man began choking and might have died. The Amorite clapped on the back, dislodging the food. By then, it was all gone.

  The food tasted so good: bread, stringy goat meat and olives. I wanted more, but there was no more. Still, to have something in my gut was wonderful.

  Almost immediately, a modicum of strength began to flood my weakened limbs. It had been far too long since I’d eaten. Now, I wanted to lie down and sleep.

  The Amorite clapped his hands. “We’ve wasted enough time. We must go. We must reach the city before nightfall.”

  Several of the others looked at him. Two lay down to sleep.

  “Now,” the Amorite said in a commanding voice.

  Did he think of himself as the master, we his slaves? Was that why he’d been shepherding us along all this time? Would he try to gain coin by selling us as slaves?

  Before the Amorite could badger us further, five men showed up and headed toward us.

  “Look,” said one of the wretches.

  We did.

  Two of the five newcomers wore mail coats like Kron and other giants. One had gray sideburns, the other clean-shaven. Those two had bronze helmets. They must be important soldiers, rich to afford such bronze armor. The other three were younger, runners carrying javelins. I doubted they were soldiers of the East. There was a different stamp upon them. For one thing, they all seemed well fed. One runner led a donkey packed with goods.

  They marched toward us on the path, coming from the direction of the city.

  We waited meekly, perhaps too meekly.

  They stopped before our Amorite leader, who waited in front of us. He was healthy and looked normal, not a skeletal wretch like the rest of us. The Amorite stood with his spear end firm against the ground, the point glittering. He stood proudly, greeting the newcomers.

  “We’ve fought against the army of the East,” the Amorite said. “We’ve also fought with the giants of Emim. I bring you news of the battle.”

  The two armored newcomers glanced at each other. In that moment, I realized from their demeanors they were cruel, wicked men.

  The one with gray sideburns, a stout and well-fed veteran, stepped forward. “We’re soldiers of Sodom. You stand in the territory of Sodom. Therefore, I order you to throw down your spear.”

  “I have news,” the Amorite said.

  “What did I tell you? Throw down your spear.”

  The Amorite was slow to respond.

  The three runners jumped forward, raising javelins as if to cast.

  Surprised, the Amorite dropped his spear. “We’re allies. I have news.”

  “Take off your cloak,” the gray-haired soldier of Sodom said.

  “What?” the Amorite asked.

  “You heard me. Take off your cloak. Hurry now.”

  The Amorite frowned.

  The soldier glanced at the runners.

  “No,” the Amorite said. “I’m taking off my cloak.” He did so, folding and setting it besides his spear.

  “My,” the gray-haired soldier said. “You’re a handsome devil, aren’t you?”

  “What?” the Amorite said.

  “Take off the rest of your garments.”

  The Amorite blushed with confusion.

  The soldier studied his fingernails, raising his eyes before regarding the Amorite anew. “Are you still dressed? I said strip. You must strip this instant.”

  “Why?” asked the Amorite.

  The soldier of Sodom gave him a wicked grin. “Can’t you guess?”

  “I bring news,” the Amorite said. “We survived the battle against Chedorlaomer.”

  The gray-haired soldier pointed at the rest of us. “You’re in much better condition than they are, and far more handsome.”

  “I’m a warrior,” the Amorite said.

  “A fine specimen of one, I might add.”

  The Amorite frowned severely. Did he think about picking up his spear?

  “Must we skewer you?” one of the runners asked.

  “No,” the Amorite said.

  “Then do as ordered or you’ll die,” the runner said.

  The Amorite started breathing hard.

  The runners moved up in a group, their javelins poised to thrust.

  “Fine,” the Amorite said. “If that’s what it takes. I’m an ally bringing news. I’d think you’d want to hear it.” He said this while stripping off his clothes until he stood naked on the path to Sodom.

  “Ah,” the gray-haired soldier said, as he looked the Amorite up and down as if the warrior were a woman. “You’ll do just fine. Yes, you will.”

  The runners rushed the Amorite, grabbing him by the arms and throwing him to the ground. They held the Amorite even as he began to struggle.

  “Turn him over,” the gray-haired soldier said.

  The runners did so, pinning the Amorite face-first to the path.

  Stunned, I saw the gray-haired soldier unbuckle his belt. Right there, he dropped his tunic.

  In that moment, I understood what was happening. This was man rape. One who’d come to warn was facing man rape instead. What a foul turn of events this was.

  Sickened by this, frightened it might happen to me next, I bolted.

  A runner must have realized what was happening. He jumped in my way.

  Although I was wretched from my ordeals, I bowled over him, knocking him to the ground. I put on a burst of speed, and only then realized I’d ripped a javelin free, holding onto it.

  The gray-haired rapist of Sodom cried out after me, “I order you to halt.”

  I didn’t halt. I ran.

  I wouldn’t let those of Sodom capture me, not if this was how they treated a stranger. What kind of beasts were these men of Sodom?

  The other wretches mustn’t have had the strength to run. They wilted as those of Sodom commanded them. They sat on the ground, allowing the runners to bind them.

  I continued to run, slowing some because I lacked my former stamina.

  At that point, the three runners started after me, loping easily as if this was sport.

  I wanted to stop. I was already tired. But I’d eaten, and the outrage at what I’d witnessed gave me resolve. I had a javelin. I had my dagger. I was Damon the Athenian. My feet pounded against the ground.

  The runners laughed as they loped. They were slender and young, not quite in the flush of full manhood. They would have stamina.

  When I looked back at them, they smiled cruelly. Yes. This was sport to them, fun.

  I put my head down and ran. I couldn’t do this for long. I’d tire soon. Would it be better to turn at bay, fight and die, slain by these three? That would be far better than letting myself be caught and raped. I shook my head, beginning to work myself into a killing rage.

  Abruptly, I realized I approached the edge of a cliff. Now I realized why the three didn’t run hard. They must have known the lay of the land. I was trapped.

  I continued anyway, soon reaching the edge of a cliff. I looked down. There was no water, no river. It was a sheer drop of sixty feet to more land.

  I looked back at the three. No. I wasn’t going to let them capture me.

  I stabbed the javelin into the ground, turned, slid feet first over the edge and gripped the javelin as I eased lower. Once fully stretched, I released the javelin. I slid, fell and plunged. I hit the side of the cliff, struck branches growing out of it and continuing falling. At last, with a terrific impact and thud, I hit bottom.

  Some of the cliff’s outcropping and branches had broken my fall to a degree. I still hit hard, the air driven out of me.

  For a time, I stared upward from where I lay on the ground. Soon enough, I saw three runners peer over the edge of the cliff at me.

  I couldn’t hear if they said anything.

  They began to hurl their javelins at me. The javelins thudded, hitting near but not into me.

  I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move.

  The javelins continued thudding. Then, one struck between my legs and another an inch from my throat.

  I blinked with horror.

  They must have run out of javelins, as they began to hurl stones.

  One hit my chest.

  I gasped, and that started me moving.

  I struggled up amid a shower of stones, took one of the javelins and hobbled out of range of their stones.

  I looked up at them.

  The three made obscene gestures.

  I headed west, heading deeper into the Vale of Siddim. I’d have to remain hidden from those of Sodom. Perhaps one of the other cities would not be as filled with such arrogant, degenerate soldiers.

  I hobbled, starving, wounded, my body throbbing and aching, wondering how I was ever going to survive my predicament.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I made it through a night and the next day. In the distance, I saw what surely had to be the walled city of Sodom. From this vantage, I also saw the southern shore of the Salt Sea far beyond the city. I stumbled and staggered, moving away from Sodom. I wanted nothing to do with it.

  To my left, a horn blared.

  I turned.

  Three young men with javelins pointed at me. I recognized them. They were the three runners who’d chased me to the cliff edge. Behind them were two bronze-helmeted soldiers riding donkeys, the rapists.

  There was no sign of the Amorite or the others. It didn’t have to mean they were dead, but I considered it a possibility.

  The runners started running, toward me. The two soldiers struck the donkeys with switches on their flanks, making them move.

  I did the only thing I could under the circumstances. I used my javelin as a cane and hobbled away. I fled. As long as I had strength, I’d flee or fight. When they got close enough, I’d turn at bay and go down fighting.

  I’d fallen into an evil land where the kings of the East and Amurru alike castrated their slaves. Where those of Sodom, at least, raped strangers looking for aid.

  As I hobbled toward the walled city of Sodom, I spied a large tent with several other tents pitched nearby. They were at least a mile beyond the city gate. Near the tents grazed herds of sheep, goats and some cattle.

  There was a black-bearded man with a white turban, possibly of middle age. He was slender and…there was something noble about him, something good, different from the men of Sodom.

  I don’t think he was a man of Sodom or an Amorite who’d pitched his tents near the city gates. Seeing him gave me hope.

  I hobbled for him as the runners and soldiers chased me.

  My strength was at the breaking point. Yet, I used the will of a warrior, one that says, “Rise warrior! Rise and fight even though your teeth ache, even though your bones burn, even though you hurt and all within you says stop, do not face the foe.” The Spartan master-at-arms, my father and uncles had all taught me a warrior must rise and fight until the end. That was what I was doing: fighting.

  This was different from trading dagger strokes, different from hurling a javelin. This was a matter of will. My body wanted to collapse. I—

  The robed, black-bearded man turned and regarded the scene. Did he frown? Would he drive me away me?

  I kept hobbling, trusting in his mercy.

  Abruptly, he whistled loud and long, a commanding sound.

  Attendants with shepherd crooks and slings ran to him. He spoke to them. After a moment, they took up station behind him like guards, five men with resolve.

  The black-bearded man with white turban was a beacon, drawing me to him.

  I looked back.

  The five of Sodom were catching up. A single trumpet blast from them might bring more from the city to help them.

  I had no idea why the turbaned man gave me hope. I hobbled faster, in the end, reaching him before the five reached me.

  Panting, I said, “I’m Damon the Athenian.”

  The man shook his turbaned head, speaking to me in the language of the Amorites.

  In my delirium, I’d spoken the language of Crete. I switched to Amorite.

  “I’m Damon. I’ve come from afar. I’ve fought with the giants of the Emim. I was there when Kron the champion led us into battle against the kings of the East. I have news. I’ve seen much. I know much of what is going to happen, but those—”

  I half turned, indicating the nearing five. “They didn’t treat our band well. Maybe it was a mistake. Please, help me.”

  The speech finished my strength. I collapsed before him.

  The man knelt by me. “I’m Lot. I, too, have come from afar. I’ll aid you. I’ll aid you because I’ve learned—never mind.” He stood as the three runners sprinted up.

  “He’s ours,” the oldest runner said. “He’s our slave. We captured him fairly in the hunt.”

  “He’s no slave,” Lot said.

  A donkey brayed.

  While lying on the ground, I managed to turn and look up.

  The gray-haired captain in bronze mail slid off his donkey. He was the one who’d ordered the Amorite to strip. He marched with the other soldier behind him as backup.

  I found it interesting that neither Sodomite unsheathed his sword. The gray-haired soldier, the captain, glanced at the runners.

  They stepped back, lowering their javelins.

  “Lot,” the captain said. “That man is our captive.”

  Lot gripped his robe, his hands in front of his chest. “The man claims to have fought with those of Emim, to have faced King Chedorlaomer. Doesn’t that make him our ally?”

  There was hatred in the captain’s eyes as he stared at Lot. He stared down at me before regarding Lot again. “Don’t try to protect the stranger.”

  “He has asked for my help,” Lot said. “He has come to my tent. Surely, I’m obligated to help him.”

  The captain hesitated before saying, “Who do you think you are that you can tell a soldier of the King of Sodom who is his captive and who is not? I’ve told you we captured him. The man is mine.”

  “No,” I coughed, “That’s a lie. You never captured me.”

  The captain drew his sword.

  I expected Lot to back down. He’d tried. Now, a soldier of Sodom, a captain, a man of importance, had drawn his sword in anger. The city was right here. Lot didn’t have a sword. He had shepherds. Lot had to back down or die. Why would Lot face death for me?

  The drawn sword hadn’t changed Lot’s features or composure. He motioned to those behind him. Lot, I noticed, had lean hands, the corded hands of one who worked and didn’t just sit at ease.

  The five shepherds stepped up. So did others I hadn’t seen before. They must have hurried here as the soldiers arrived. They held shepherd crooks, had knives tucked in their belt sashes and two held spears. They didn’t hold weapons as if for battle, but they stood around us.

  The sword-armed captain stared at Lot. “I demand you give me this man.”

  “He has come to me for aid,” Lot said in a reasonable tone. “I’ve given him my word. I’ll keep him in my tent. If the king or any of his captains, such as you, wish to speak to him, I’ll allow it. Meanwhile, I’ll feed him and help him heal. I think we should learn what happened against King Chedorlaomer. Certainly, the kings of the East are eventually marching on Sodom, to conquer your city.”

  “Not after facing the giants,” the captain said. “Chedorlaomer’s army’s will be exhausted from those engagements.”

  “I seriously doubt that,” Lot said. “Last year, Chedorlaomer’s heralds told us the kings of the East would besiege Sodom. It seems clear he’s destroying any who might ally with us.”

  “What do you know?” the captain scoffed. “You’re no man of war.”

  “You’re right about that,” Lot said. “I do know, though, that the Cities of the Plain have the best soldiers and best tactics. We still need numbers to insure victory. Chedorlaomer is making certain we lack any confederates.”

  After a moment, the captain shook his head. “Give us that one. I demand it. I’m done arguing with you.”

  “Captain,” Lot said, “I respect your authority. But you’re standing on land that has been granted to me by your king. He’s granted me privileges. I claim those privileges until the king revokes them. Or will you stand against the king’s authority?”

  The captain glowered. “You’re a stranger here. You’re not of Sodom.”

  Lot laughed easily. “I’m here. I do much business with the city and both of us have profited. I’m in the process of becoming a citizen. I’ve even considered lately that it’s time for me to move into the city.”

  The captain frowned, perhaps ingesting Lot’s words. He finally nodded, sheathing his sword. “You’ve never sat at the gate with the judges and elders. But now you’re seeking to act as an elder. Have a care you don’t go too far. Remember who you are.”

  “I do remember,” Lot said, “And by Him Most High, I tell you this man is under my protection. I’ll not let him go until he has spoken to the king. Does that satisfy you?”

  The captain grumbled under his breath, glancing at his fellow soldier, who shrugged. The captain turned further and spoke a curt word to the runners.

  The three stepped back.

  The captain faced Lot. “I’ll remember this. But I’m a servant of the king. We’ll do as you’ve said. This man is your guest. Don’t let him leave or you may take his place of punishment.”

  The captain turned rudely before Lot could reply, stalking off. The other soldier followed. In a moment, so did the three runners.