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SOLDIERS AND ENGINEERS were busy all over the new military headquarters outside Urshalayim, digging trenches, building fortifications, modifying existing buildings and the like. Inside Binaizek's old house–now a royal palace, Adonaizidek went over intelligence reports and military plans with General Puadir and the senior officers of his army. Outside, a messenger arrived in a chariot, jumped down and ran to the door of the palace.
Guards ushered the messenger into the presence of the god-king.
"O king, live forever," the messenger greeted him, bowing low before him. "I have news of the Yacovites."
"Tell me," Adonaizidak said, with a bland, disinterested tone.
"They have crossed the Yarden. Their Invisible God stopped the flow of the river and piled its water up to the sky. They crossed in a single day with no casualties. On dry ground."
The king maintained his bored tone. "I've been hearing these wild rumors for many a day, now. Surely you've got more news than just that?"
The king's officers chuckled at the preposterous nature of the story–and the messenger's seriousness about it.
Sweat dripping off his nose, the messenger continued, "Furthermore, o King, they have conquered Bet-Yariq and laid waste to the entire city. There are no survivors, save for the family of a woman who collaborated with them."
"What!" snapped the king. The messenger flinched at the harsh noise of the word.
"The city is destroyed, o King," said the messenger.
"If this is some sort of jest, it is not a funny one."
"Bet-Yariq is the strongest city in the region," a king's adviser reminded the messenger.
"Impossible!" Adonaizidek cried, the magnitude of the disaster still sinking in. "How could they have breached the walls?"
"The god of the Yacovites knocked the walls down, Sire," the messenger replied.
"Nonsense. It must have been the same earthquake that toppled our walls," the king speculated out loud. 'It hit Bet-Yariq too, evidently."
"It must have been worse over there," another adviser said, thoughtfully, "to knock those walls down."
The king rose from his throne and began to pace. 'I'll tell you what it was: It was Nergal. You see how close his wanderer is in the sky. We've heard what he's doing to the tides in the sea. He's shaking the earth, too. The people of Bet-Yariq failed to please him. He thirsts, and they haven't provided enough blood. We need to increase our sacrifices immediately."
"There was no shortage of sacrifice in Bet-Yariq, O King," the messenger said, still bowing. "They had passed every last infant through the fire in hopes of getting help from the gods. I'm telling you, everyone is terrified of the Yacovites and their god. All other gods are powerless before him."
The king stopped pacing and cried, "We'll just see about that. Guards!"
Four guards rushed in from the door, looking to the king for instruction.
Adonaizidek pointed to the messenger. "Secure him."
The Guards grabbed the messenger, who panicked, struggled, and protested his innocence. Adonaizidek extended his arm, palm-up.
"Sword," he said.
A Guard handed the king his sword and Adonaizidek reared back with it.
"Lord of Righteousness," the messenger pleaded, " I've done nothing wrong! I've only faithfully carried out your orders to the letter! Don't punish me for what others have done, or for me reporting truthfully!"
The king swung the sword. It only took two blows to sever the messenger's head from his shoulders. The priest of Hapy winced at the shower of blood.
"Ah, that feels a little better," the king said. "Send messengers to our neighboring courts. I'm calling a council to resolve this Yacovite problem."
The advisers looked at their king, the decapitated Messenger, then each other, and exited in a hurry.
