A.D. 33 by Ted Dekker Read Free Book Online

one last feast at my request, for I had decided that we would march with bellies full, confident of many more feasts to come. All of the children would be bathed, even if the same basin of water was used to wash many, spilling not a drop on the sand. I wanted them clean and smiling, for celebration was always a delight to them.
    The morning after the council’s decision was announced, Habib was placed in charge of securing all weapons, each delivered to a large cache prepared on the south side of our camp. After verbose discussion the men had come to peace with the notion of forsaking their “right arm,” as they called their swords and daggers. Had anything like it ever been seen in the desert? Never!
    One by one, drawing courage from those who’d gone before them, they solemnly approached the great pit, kissed each of their blades, and carefully laid them in the sand as they might a treasure.
    I had left this ceremony and was with Saba in Fahak’s tent, discussing the best strategy for marching with so many young and elderly, and so few camels for them to ride, when Talya burst in, running.
    “Mother!”
    I glanced up. He was pointing to the north.
    “Camels! Many!”
    Saba leaped to his feet and I joined him, gripping his elbow. Together we raced to the top of the dune near my own tent where Talya had seen. My camel, Zahwah, was couched in the shade.
    They stretched across the flat sands to the north, hundreds abreast, moving at an easy pace. It could only be army, for caravans traveled in a single column.
    “Thamud,” Saba said.
    I whirled to Zahwah and grabbed her lead. “Talya, to Saba! Summon the council members.”
    I quickly gathered my dress and flung my leg over my camel, already clucking my tongue. “Up, up, Zahwah.” I tugged as she protested and rose to her feet.
    “Maviah—”
    “Tell only the elders—we must not spread panic! Bring them to me at the northern flat.”
      
    TWENTY OF US arranged ourselves abreast on the sand, I in the middle, seated upon my white camel with my dark dress flowing in the breeze. My long, dark hair was loose as I faced a wind that portended this coming storm of Thamud. They approached at a steady trot, hundreds wide and three or four deep. Banners of the red-and-yellow crest flapped high above those who rode at the center.
    My heart was in my throat as their faces came into clear view—Saman bin Shariqat and his son, Kahil. And there with them, my half brother, Maliku.
    Had they come with a thirst for blood? Saba had seen many dead upon the sand.
    “No one will speak but Maviah,” Saba said to my left. “Not a word.”
    “This is business for men,” Fahak said.
    “Not for men who hold no swords. Hold your tongue and let your queen gain us favor or you will deal with me.”
    It was enough to bind the elder’s pride, but Fahak didn’t know how to remain silent for long any more than a lion knew how to leave its head buried in the sand.
    Saba turned on his mount. “Remember Yeshua’s words, my queen. This is only another storm on a forgotten wind. See with new eyes.”
    Those words flooded my mind. Why are you afraid, Daughter? See with my eyes. Calm the storm. Walk upon these waters.
    Father…Open the eyes of my heart to see as you see.
    I could see only the storm:
    Saman, now slowing his camel to a walk, looming close.
    The plodding hooves of a thousand camels bearing warriors dressed for war. Swords and daggers glinted in the sun at their sides.
    Kahil, the one who’d killed my son and then blinded me, his dark eyes staring into my soul like a hawk eyeing its prey.
    Maliku, my half brother, whose betrayal had led to the slaughter of so many.
    Father…
    Kahil lifted his right hand, and the sea of Thamud pulled up to a thudding halt.
    My heart raced.
    I fixed my eyes on Kahil, returning his glare with pointed disinterest. The knowledge that I had nothing to fear from him filled my mind. He was ruled by bitterness, I by acceptance. He, then, was the