East of Ashes (16 page)

But then, just before losing consciousness, a soft voice whispered into his very being:
Not yet, my son. Not yet.

CHAPTER 9

--- Avignon, January 1098 ---

--- Joash and Leala ---

The shore of the Rhône River that snaked through Avignon, was draped in thick clouds of white. Crystal flakes drifted lazily to the ground, further adding to the soft blanket.

Two figures huddled in thick coats were strolling along the eastern shore, arms interlocked to ward off the chill.

Joash kept his eyes on the ground, his mind swamped by pressing matters.

Sensing his pensive mood, Leala sought to lighten it: "So you enjoy freezing to death?" she teased.

Joash laughed nervously. If he could have talked to her in private where it wasn't so cold, he probably wouldn't have dragged her out in this weather. Still, the gentle snow had a calming effect.

"I'll admit, I didn't think it would be
this
cold."

"I'm just teasing - I actually love it when it's like this," Leala smiled.

"Yes, but that's because you're a little strange," Joash shot back with a mischievous grin.

Leala's bright laughter rang out in the otherwise quiet morning, the sound of it filling Joash with warmth.

Leala dropped her head on his shoulder as she leaned in to wrap her arms tightly against his as they continued walking on, lost in silent enjoyment of one another.

"I wonder what happened to Lamech
?
" she
said,
finally br
eaking
the silence. Joash stiffened at her words before he could stop himself, but quickly sought to hide his inner turmoil.

"What do you mean?" he asked,
and
then cringed inside at his stupid question. Leala lifted her head and studied him for a second before answering.

"He left so suddenly after the attack - almost as if he had something to hide," she finally answered. Joash frowned at her words and then came to an abrupt halt.

"
A
re you suggesting he had something to do with it?" he asked surprised.

"I don't know... no, I guess not. It just seems so suspicious," she said, dropping her head back onto his shoulder.

They began walking again. Joash tried to collect his thoughts. He recalled the look on Lamech's face when he
had
held Leala in his arms that night: a disturbing mix of anger and awe. At the time he had been too wrapped up in Leala to think much about it.

He had no idea what Lamech had been thinking, but it probably hadn't been good. Still, he couldn't bring himself to believe Lamech had anything to do with the attack. The way he threw himself into the fight next to Joash just didn't add up to such a possibility.

"No, I don't think Lamech was involved. Whatever his reasons for leaving so suddenly, it wasn't related to the attack," he finally answered, remembering the flash of pain and vulnerability in Lamech's eyes just before he turned and ran out the back door.

Aware of how the conversation had affected Joash, she stopped and turned to him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and gently placed her head against his chest as she soaked up his warmth.

Joash rested his chin on her head and held her close. "It feels so good to hold you tight," he whispered. Leala smiled in answer and looked up at him.

Joash
bent his head and kissed her tenderly. Leala melted as he held her. She closed her eyes, lost in his kiss.

When she finally opened her eyes, she gasped in shock. Joash, feeling her go rigid against him, pulled away to look at her face, but then spun around when he saw her staring over his shoulder.

A group of soldiers w
as
approaching on horseback, their spears held rigid with intent. The foremost rider spurred his horse forward and closed the distance in mere seconds. Dismounting when he reached them, he walked forward, his hand resting on the hilt of a massive, curved sword.

"Are you Joash?" he asked.

Joash eyed him suspiciously but then nodded in acknowledgement. Leala looked from Joash to the newcomer in confusion.

"You are hereby placed under arrest. You will come with us. Now."

"By whos
e
authority?" Joash exclaimed.

The soldier smiled at his question, but his eyes were filled with menace.

"By the order of Pope Urban II himself."

"For what?" Leala asked incredulously.

"For the murder of Lord Gaal, special emissary of the Pope."

"What?" Joash couldn't believe his ears.

The soldier said nothing but simply stood smiling as his comrades grabbed Joash's arms and began dragging him away. Leala stood in shocked silence, the questions she wanted to scream locked in her throat.

Joash's mind reeled, but he managed to focus. Judging by the soldier's menacing smile, he deemed it wise not to struggle against his captors.
No sense in giving them an excuse
, he thought as they took him away.

Leala took a step in their direction on unsteady legs, tears streaming down her face, only to crumble to the ground. Struggling to prop herself up, her hands spread out in the
snow
, she tried to see through her tears.

Joash managed to turn his head just before being loaded onto a horse and mouthed parting words at her: "I love you. Pray for me."

As the soldiers spurred their horses into a gallop, one single thought kept Joash going: Leala would pray. She would pray the angels of heaven down upon him.

-------

Joash was taken to the city dungeons where he was locked up for the night. The walls felt like they were encroaching on him and he feared his mind would not survive the terror that hammered his every thought.

Throughout the cold dark night, he repeatedly recited scripture: "
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for
Y
ou are with me;
Y
our rod and
Y
our staff, they comfort me.
"

He used the words of the Psalm as he would a sword, cutting and stabbing the groping hands that tried to take hold of him.

At some stage during the night a man showed up outside his cell. He looked at Joash for a long time without speaking. Joash met his gaze even though the enormity of what had happened to him was making it very hard.

Still, he dragged up every last bit of will he had and steeled himself.

"What do you want with me?" he finally asked.

"We found your dagger," his visitor answered.

Joash couldn't understand what he was talking about and just stared at him.

"Yes,
your
dagger. The one with Lord Gaal's blood on it."

Even though understanding was beginning to seep through into Joash's mind, he just couldn't grasp what he was talking about.

His questioner changed tactics: "If you confess, at least you can be assured of a swift execution."

Execution. That one word, spoken so casually, finally broke through and Joash staggered under the realisation of what he
had been
arrested for.

"But I didn't do anything!" he exclaimed.

His interrogator looked at him, and then grunted. "Fine, then we'll do it your way," he answered and walked out the door, leaving Joash staring at his back in the dark, questions jostling for attention.

H
e had questions - and a lot of them aimed at God, who
m
he had served faithfully all his life
,
only to be seemingly led to destruction. But even as the painful thought made its way onto the stage of his mind, he dismissed it with a mental backhand, knowing it to be false.

Whatever happen
ed
, he knew that it didn't change a single thing about God's faithfulness. Time and time again, the Lord ha
d
proven to him that He
wa
s
for
him and, more importantly, supremely trustworthy.

Still, the despair threatened to engulf him. He fought it in the only way he knew how: reciting scripture.

As he began saying the words of Psalm 23 - at first in a soft whisper, gradually building to a crescendo until he was once more hacking at the dark threads of despair - he was acutely aware of what the Jewish king David must have felt like when he
had
penned those powerful words.

Sometime after midnight he found himself standing next to the ventilation shaft that was cut at an upwards angle through the outer wall. Through it he could barely make out the edge of the moon, casting its light through a cloud.

Standing with his one hand resting on the shaft's edge, fingering the smooth grooves left by thousands of prisoners who had stood in the exact same spot as him over the years, he felt a kinship with all those helpless souls who had looked up at the only bit of light left to them.

Basking in the moonlight that radiated down, he finally found himself being filled with peace. Somewhere out there, he knew Leala was praying for him. But it was the words of the Psalmist - defiantly crying out his trust in his Maker - that calmed his raging thoughts.

In the quiet of his cell, he knelt down and prayed a simple prayer.

I don't know why this is happening Lord. But I know that whatever happens, You are with me. You have not forsaken me and I will not believe the lies of the enemy that say
that
You have. I pray that you will strengthen me, that you will give me what I need to see this through. And I pray that your name will be glorified through all of this.