if she was a bit homesick, her excitement at seeing the world made up for it.
At that point, my second in command, Jaita, came up to us. “What is it, Jaita?” I asked.
“M’Lord,” he said, “I’ll take the platoon for a romp around the countryside if you don’t object, and meet you at the village of Micherar , where the road to Eglon branches off. My scouts report that there’s no one about but a few shepherds for miles and miles, and Lord Zaggi has given permission.”
“Very good, Jaita,” I answered. “So long as you remain within hearing distance of our horns.” With that, the platoon rumbled off.
Zaggi then called for us to resume our places in the wagon; he turned to his servant: “Tell the caravan master we shall procede now.” Climbing into our wagon, he settled beside us. “Here we enter Gath ’s territory,” he announced, pointing to a marker on the roadside.
A bit later we reached Micherar, a little Canaanite village. Located at a fairly major crossroads, this town supported some small industries such as weaving and tanning; but it served primarily as a center of farming, plus goat and cattle breeding. These were free Canaanites, and freeholders to boot, but paying taxes to Gath .
Zaggi appeared somewhat disdainful as we made our way down the main road into town. “This village was full of cut-throats,” he said. “They rebelled two months ago and chased out the Melek’s tax-gatherers. He put them down quite firmly.” Delai looked around at the unfriendly faces of the town. “But there’s no danger,” Zaggi assured her. “The Melek deported all the young men to work on the roads farther north.”
Yet even as he spoke, crowds of hardy young males streamed out of their houses and began to mill around us. “Damn it!” Zaggi swore. “The Melek must’ve let them return early! I shouldn’t have let Jaita go off like that!” He ordered the caravan to halt, and then stood up to address the crowd.
“Canaanites! I greet you in the name of Maoch, Sheren of Askelon. I am Lord Zaggi, Chancellor to Sheren Maoch. We convey to His Grace the Melek the Lady Delai, Priestess of Astarte and noblewoman of Askelon, as bride for the great Prince Ekosh.”
It was a very impressive speech, and the Canaanites would (we hoped) be pleased to hear that Delai was a devotee of Astarte, one of
their favorite deities. Unfortunately, the crowd seemed more impressed by our rich caravan—and its mere handful of guards. Three old men then approached our wagon. “These must be their elders,” Zaggi told us. “Don’t let them see you’re afraid,” he hissed to Delai.
“Such horrid people,” Delai whispered back.
“Greetings, Lord,” said one of the old men—in what came near to being a sarcastic tone of voice. “We of Micherar revere the Goddess.” The man’s eyes were fixed on the treasure laden wagons behind Zaggi. “But, alas, we’ve nothing left for a gift for the Lady, because our goods were carried away by the Melek’s tax-gatherers.”
That sounded menacing, and Zaggi was preparing a (probably) belligerent reply when Delai stood up beside him to speak—much to Uncle’s surprise, and mine! “Most venerable chief,” she addressed the Canaanite, “I do not ask for gifts, for I see that you are an industrious people and deserve to prosper—while I have gifts enough. I ask only that you pray to our Goddess; ask that my marriage to your absent Prince might bring blessings to your fields and flocks.” Inwardly, she must have been trembling; yet even Zaggi had to admire her tact.
Yet then a voice in the crowd called out: “Micherar’s already paid for your bride-price!” And another: “By the taxes and plunder taken from us!” The townspeople began an ominous muttering among themselves.
Rachel, who’d been following the conversation intently, now jumped down from the wagon. She faced the nearest commoner in the crowd and addressed him directly: “Yes,
At that point, my second in command, Jaita, came up to us. “What is it, Jaita?” I asked.
“M’Lord,” he said, “I’ll take the platoon for a romp around the countryside if you don’t object, and meet you at the village of Micherar , where the road to Eglon branches off. My scouts report that there’s no one about but a few shepherds for miles and miles, and Lord Zaggi has given permission.”
“Very good, Jaita,” I answered. “So long as you remain within hearing distance of our horns.” With that, the platoon rumbled off.
Zaggi then called for us to resume our places in the wagon; he turned to his servant: “Tell the caravan master we shall procede now.” Climbing into our wagon, he settled beside us. “Here we enter Gath ’s territory,” he announced, pointing to a marker on the roadside.
A bit later we reached Micherar, a little Canaanite village. Located at a fairly major crossroads, this town supported some small industries such as weaving and tanning; but it served primarily as a center of farming, plus goat and cattle breeding. These were free Canaanites, and freeholders to boot, but paying taxes to Gath .
Zaggi appeared somewhat disdainful as we made our way down the main road into town. “This village was full of cut-throats,” he said. “They rebelled two months ago and chased out the Melek’s tax-gatherers. He put them down quite firmly.” Delai looked around at the unfriendly faces of the town. “But there’s no danger,” Zaggi assured her. “The Melek deported all the young men to work on the roads farther north.”
Yet even as he spoke, crowds of hardy young males streamed out of their houses and began to mill around us. “Damn it!” Zaggi swore. “The Melek must’ve let them return early! I shouldn’t have let Jaita go off like that!” He ordered the caravan to halt, and then stood up to address the crowd.
“Canaanites! I greet you in the name of Maoch, Sheren of Askelon. I am Lord Zaggi, Chancellor to Sheren Maoch. We convey to His Grace the Melek the Lady Delai, Priestess of Astarte and noblewoman of Askelon, as bride for the great Prince Ekosh.”
It was a very impressive speech, and the Canaanites would (we hoped) be pleased to hear that Delai was a devotee of Astarte, one of
their favorite deities. Unfortunately, the crowd seemed more impressed by our rich caravan—and its mere handful of guards. Three old men then approached our wagon. “These must be their elders,” Zaggi told us. “Don’t let them see you’re afraid,” he hissed to Delai.
“Such horrid people,” Delai whispered back.
“Greetings, Lord,” said one of the old men—in what came near to being a sarcastic tone of voice. “We of Micherar revere the Goddess.” The man’s eyes were fixed on the treasure laden wagons behind Zaggi. “But, alas, we’ve nothing left for a gift for the Lady, because our goods were carried away by the Melek’s tax-gatherers.”
That sounded menacing, and Zaggi was preparing a (probably) belligerent reply when Delai stood up beside him to speak—much to Uncle’s surprise, and mine! “Most venerable chief,” she addressed the Canaanite, “I do not ask for gifts, for I see that you are an industrious people and deserve to prosper—while I have gifts enough. I ask only that you pray to our Goddess; ask that my marriage to your absent Prince might bring blessings to your fields and flocks.” Inwardly, she must have been trembling; yet even Zaggi had to admire her tact.
Yet then a voice in the crowd called out: “Micherar’s already paid for your bride-price!” And another: “By the taxes and plunder taken from us!” The townspeople began an ominous muttering among themselves.
Rachel, who’d been following the conversation intently, now jumped down from the wagon. She faced the nearest commoner in the crowd and addressed him directly: “Yes,
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