His name was Ben-Jameen; he was the eldest son of a tribal chief. They called themselves the Children of Israel, he told me. Ben-Jameen was a youngster, his beard barely starting to sprout. But he was lean and hard-muscled; his eyes missed nothing as he scanned my two dozen men, the horses, donkeys, and oxcarts. He was tense and suspicious, gripping his spear tightly, as if prepared to use it at an instant's notice.

When I told him that we were Hatti soldiers, he used the term "Hitt.i.tes," and seemed to relax slightly. He almost smiled.

"In whose service are you, then?" he asked.

"No one's. We have come from a great war, far to the north and west of here. We helped to destroy the kingly city of Troy."

His face went blank; he had never heard the name.

"Perhaps you know it as Ilium, by the straits called the h.e.l.lespont that lead into the Sea of Black Waters."

Still no gleam of recognition.

I gave it up. "It was a war, and these men helped to take the city after a long siege."

At that, something glimmered in his eyes. "Why are you here, then, in this land of Canaan?"

"We are traveling south, to Egypt, to seek service with the great king of that land."

He glared at me, then coughed up phlegm and spat on the parched ground. "That for the Pharaoh! It took my people four generations to escape the slavery of Egypt." for the Pharaoh! It took my people four generations to escape the slavery of Egypt."

I made a shrug and replied, "We are a unit of professional soldiery. I have heard that the Egyptian king has need of soldiers."

Those suspicious eyes fixed on me. "You are not in anyone's service now?"

"No. The old empire has collapsed..."

"The G.o.d of Israel has smitten the Hitt.i.tes," he murmured, and now he truly did smile.

I glanced at Lukka, still on his horse, off to one side, and was glad that he could not understand the Hebrew tongue.

"And now He will smite the evil worshipers of Baal who shut themselves up in their city." Ben-Jameen looked past me, at the men and their mounts, the carts, at Lukka sitting on his horse slightly behind me, and finally at me again. There was a new light in his eyes. "You will serve our G.o.d and our people and help us to take the city of Jericho, just as you took that northern city you spoke of."

"We are not seeking service here," I said. "We are traveling to Egypt."

"You will serve the G.o.d of Israel," Ben-Jameen insisted. Then, softening slightly, he said, "At least come and spend the night in our camp and meet our great leader Joshua."

I hesitated, sensing a trap.

The youngster smiled shyly. "He would never forgive me if I allowed you to leave without bringing you to him. I would be disgraced before my father's eyes."

It was difficult to argue with him.

"Besides," he added, the smile brightening slightly, "it will be impossible for you to go farther south without running into other groups of our people. We are a mult.i.tude."

I bowed to the inevitable and accepted his offer of hospitality as graciously as I could.

The Israelites were indeed a mult.i.tude, hundreds of families camped on a wide plain between the river they called Jordan and the worn, bare, baked-brown mountains. Their tents dotted the green plain, and their flocks stirred clouds of dust when they were driven from pasture to the rough fences of their nightly fold.

With the setting sun turning the western sky blood red, and the hot wind blowing down off those scorched mountains, the smell of those flocks was almost overpowering. No one seemed to notice it except us newcomers. Families were gathering before each tent, starting the evening cooking fires, chattering in their guttural language, children running, boys shouting at each other as they played with wooden swords and shields, girls screeching with high-pitched laughter.

But what caught my eyes, and Lukka's, was the walled city sitting atop a low hill in the middle of the plain. It dominated the region, just as Troy had dominated the plain of Ilios.

"That is Jericho," I told Lukka.

"It is known as the oldest city in the world," he said.

"Is it? The walls certainly seem high and thick."

"Stronger than Troy's."

"They want us to help them take it."

He made a coughing grunt.

"Can it be done?"

Lukka scratched at his beard. "My lord Orion, any city can be taken. It's only a question of time, and how many lives you can afford to lose."

We made our camp as far from the animal pens as possible. As the men pitched their tents, I brought Helen out from the covered cart. There was no sense trying to keep her hidden here.

"The men will want to mingle with the women here," Lukka told me.

I nodded, but warned, "Tell them to be careful and mind their manners. I doubt that these women are the kind who take to strangers."

He made a tiny smile. "They all seem to be well protected by family males," he agreed. "Still-no harm in being friendly."

"Just make certain that they're not so friendly they get their throats cut."

Ben-Jameen came back to us as the sun dipped below the western mountains and the long violet shadows crept across the plain.

"Joshua invites you to have supper with him in his tent." He seemed excited and pleased.

Just then Helen came out of my tent, freshly washed in water brought up from the distant river, clothed in a long pleated gown of crimson, a golden necklace and bracelet her only jewelry.

Ben-Jameen gaped at her.

"This is Helen, princess of the lost city of Troy," I said, deciding not to mention that she was Queen of Sparta. "She will accompany me at supper."

It took the youth several moments to get his mouth closed and his eyes off Helen. Finally he turned to me and said, "Among us, women do not eat with men."

"Your leader will have to make an exception in this case."

Ben-Jameen nodded dumbly and scrambled off to inform Joshua of this startling turn of events.

Helen stepped close to me. "I can stay here, Orion. It's not wise to cause trouble over me."

I disagreed. "It's necessary for you to come with me. I want this Joshua, whoever he is, to realize that he can't command me as if I were his servant."

"Ah, I understand," she said. Then, with a smile, "And I thought you couldn't bear the thought of taking a meal without me by your side."

I smiled back. "That, too."

Ben-Jameen returned with a guard of honor, six men in clean robes, armed only with short swords scabbarded at their sides, who escorted us to a wide, low tent of goat skins. I had to duck to get through the entrance flap.

Inside, the tent was s.p.a.cious. Worn carpets covered the ground. A low table was spread with steaming bowls of meat and platters of olives, onions, and greens I could not identify. A dozen old men sat around the table, on brightly decorated cushions and pillows. At the center of the table sat a younger man, his long hair and beard still dark, his eyes bright with an inner fire.

It was Joshua's eyes that sent a warning alarm tingling along my nerves. They blazed with the light of a zeal that knew no bounds, as if he were so certain that what he was doing was the right thing that he never questioned any action that popped into his thoughts. He was an intense, dedicated man in his late thirties or early forties, I guessed, lean as a sword and as straight, unbent even by the burdens of leading his people as they struggled to find a homeland for themselves.

Ben-Jameen performed the introductions. None of the Israelites stood, but Joshua invited us to sit at the empty places around the table once we had been properly introduced to everyone. I sat directly across the table from Joshua, Helen on my left, Ben-Jameen on my right. The men ignored Helen so thoroughly that I knew her presence disturbed them no end.

There was no wine at the table, only a thin fermented goat's milk that tasted so sour I preferred the water. The food was plentiful, though. For a nomadic tribe on the march through a hostile land, they had plenty to eat. At least, these leaders did.

Joshua remained silent as we ate, but he watched me carefully, his eyes never leaving me. The old men asked me hundreds of questions about who I was, where I came from, were my men truly Hitt.i.te soldiers, had the G.o.d of Israel really destroyed the Hitt.i.te empire? I answered as truthfully as I could, and as we finished the meal with dates and melons, I complimented Joshua on the food.

"Yes," he said, "this is truly a land of milk and honey, just as the Lord our G.o.d promised it would be."

"Tell me of your G.o.d," I said. "What does he look like? What do you call him?"

A gasp went around the table. Several of the old men actually pushed away, as if afraid I would infect them. Even Ben-Jameen edged slightly away from me.

"His name is never spoken," said Joshua, his voice reedy, nasal, his words coming fast, as if he were angry. "He is the Lord G.o.d of Israel, the G.o.d of our fathers."

"The most powerful G.o.d of all," said one of the old men.

"The only only G.o.d," Joshua insisted firmly. "All other G.o.ds are false." G.o.d," Joshua insisted firmly. "All other G.o.ds are false."

"He is a golden, radiant figure?" I asked.

"No one has ever seen Him," said Joshua, "and it is forbidden to make images of Him."

"How does he communicate with you?"

"He spoke directly to Moses," said the elder on Joshua's right. "He led us through the wilderness and gave Moses the tablets of the law."

"He has led us here," said Joshua, tapping a blunt forefinger on the table. "To Jericho. We crossed the River Jordan dry shod, just as He led Moses and our people across the Sea of Reeds. He has promised us this land of Canaan for our own. But if we can't conquer Jericho we will be nothing but wandering beggars, strangers in our own land, outcasts forever."

"Jericho commands the plain here, that I can see."

"Jericho commands the entire region. He who holds Jericho holds all of Canaan," he said. "That is why we must take the city. That is why you must help us."

"We are only two dozen men."

"Two dozen Hitt.i.te soldiers," Joshua said. "The same Hitt.i.tes who razed Ugarit. Soldiers who are expert at siege warfare."

"But with so few..."

Joshua's eyes blazed at me. "You have been sent by G.o.d to help us. To refuse would mean refusing the G.o.d of Israel. That would be an extremely unwise thing to do."

I smiled back at him. "It would be impolite of me to refuse your request, after the hospitality you have shown us."

"You will help us, then?" Despite himself, he leaned forward eagerly.

"My men and I will do what we can," I said, realizing that I was dealing with a fanatic and there was no way out.

They all smiled and nodded their heads and murmured about the will of G.o.d.

But I added, "Once Jericho falls, we will be on our way to Egypt."

"Egypt!" The word went around the table as if it were a blasphemy.

"Egypt is our destination," I said calmly. "We will help you in your siege of Jericho, and then go on our way to that land."

Joshua smiled thinly. "After Jericho falls, you can go to Egypt or anywhere else you choose." He made it sound as if he were saying, You can go to h.e.l.l, for all I care. You can go to h.e.l.l, for all I care.

Chapter 28.

"THIS is madness," Lukka said.

We stood in the rising heat of morning, at the edge of the Israelite camp, studying the triple walls of Jericho. At sunrise we had ridden completely around the besieged city, as close as a bowshot. The walls were enormous, much higher than Troy's and undoubtedly much thicker. To make things worse, a deep trench had been carved out of the bedrock in front of the main length of the wall. A drawbridge crossed it, although the bridge was pulled up tight against the city gate now. The trench was partially filled with garbage and debris, but still it was steep-walled and an obstacle that looked all but impa.s.sable.

"We'll never be able to get siege towers against those walls," Lukka told me. I reluctantly agreed with him. Jericho stood atop a low hill, its main wall slanting from the bedrock floor of the valley plain up along the crest of the hill. Where the wall was set at the floor of the plain, the trench protected it. Where it wound up along the crest, smaller retaining walls stood before it, making a triple set of barriers. The hillside itself was too steep to roll siege towers up its sides, and the walls were studded with strong round towers from which archers and slingers could pelt an attacker with arrows and stones.

"No wonder Joshua needs help," I grumbled.

Lukka squinted against the sun glare. "The people of Jericho have had a hundred generations to perfect their defenses. No wandering band of nomads is going to bring those walls down."

I grinned at him. "That's why Joshua so kindly invited us to stay with him-until those walls do do come down." come down."

"We will be here a long time, then."

Through the morning we rode the circuit of the walls several times, looking for a weakness that simply was not there. The only thing I noticed was that some sections of the walls seemed older than others, their bricks grayer and less evenly aligned.

"Earthquakes," said Lukka. "The walls are made of mud bricks. Once they dry they become as hard as stone. But an earthquake can tumble them."

An earthquake. The glimmer of an idea stirred in the back of my mind.

Lukka was pointing. "See how the wall is built in sections, with timbers dividing one section from the next? That way, even when an earthquake damages one section of the wall, the rest can remain standing."

I nodded, but my mind was elsewhere.

That night, as we lay down together in my tent, Helen asked, "How long will we have to stay among these awful people?"