Read Online Among the Gods by Lynn Austin - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Lynn Austin
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stinking hole. The knowledge should have staggered him, but he felt nothing—no fear, no regrets … nor did he long to cling to life at all costs. He realized then that he had no reason to live. Everything that usually drove a man—love, work, friendship, dreams of the future—had all been stolen from him. Even if King Manasseh set him free, Hadad had no desire to begin a new life all over again without Dinah. He had started a new life in Egypt and had ended up in this dungeon. All he wanted was vengeance—to make his enemies pay for stealing Dinah away from him—or death.
Hadad leaned his back against the door and smiled, but no one saw him in the darkness. “They can’t kill me,” he murmured. They couldn’t kill someone who was already dead.
Time must have passed, but living in eternal darkness, Hadad had no way to mark its passing. He might have been imprisoned for days or weeks or even years. The guards occasionally delivered meals of rotting food and stale water, but Hadad allowed the other prisoners to fight over his portions.
When Hadad had long since given up standing, the old prisoner’s moans finally ended in a death rattle. The guards didn’t remove the man’s body right away, and Hadad heard his cellmates fighting over his ragged tunic, hoping for a scrap of cloth for warmth against the dungeon’s cold nights. Then the other prisoners took turns sitting on the corpse, using it for a bench to avoid the filthy floor.
Every so often the guards dragged one of the prisoners away to be tortured. They didn’t take him far; Hadad could hear the muffled blows, the agonized screams, the guards’ laughter. The prisoner always returned unconscious. Hadad knew that the suspense of waiting for his turn had been carefully calculated to heighten his fear, but he felt strangely unafraid.
By the time the guards came for him, Hadad no longer cared what they did to him. He had retreated to a safe, dark place inside his soul where no one could ever hurt him again. He had searched hard for that place after his grandfather had died, hoping that strong wine might lead him to it, but now he knew that it could only be reached when all hope had finally died. His closest friends had betrayed him. He’d lost his home, his work, the woman he loved. He sat in a dark, stinking prison cell, surrounded by suffering and madness, hunger and thirst and cold. What more could anyone do to him?
The fact that he showed no fear, that he uttered no sound as the guards beat him, seemed to infuriate them. He heard none of their threats, felt none of their blows, because nothing could ever hurt him as much as Dinah’s betrayal had. He saw her face, heard her words over and over in his mind … and Hadad welcomed death.
Two weeks after he had locked Hadad in prison, King Manasseh summoned the warden to his throne room. “Well, what have you learned from the man? Is Hadad telling the truth?”
“We’ve learned nothing, Your Majesty. He refuses to talk.”
“Even when you tortured him? Threatened to kill him?”
“He doesn’t seem to care if he lives or dies.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Manasseh said. “Everyone fears death.”
The warden shrugged. “Not this prisoner, Your Majesty.”
“What about the informant you placed in his cell?” Zerah asked. “What does he report?”
“He says that Hadad has eaten almost nothing since we locked him up. He doesn’t seem to sleep, either. And he hasn’t said more than half a dozen words to anyone, even his fellow prisoners.”
Manasseh turned to Zerah in amazement. “What do you make of this?”
“Perhaps Hadad is telling the truth after all. If so, then the gods have answered your prayers, my lord. You asked for a decisive victory over your enemy; maybe it will come through this man.”
Manasseh felt the thrill of triumph. He had finally won the gods’ favor. His prayers had been answered. He would defeat Joshua at last.
“Take Hadad out of prison and
Hadad leaned his back against the door and smiled, but no one saw him in the darkness. “They can’t kill me,” he murmured. They couldn’t kill someone who was already dead.
Time must have passed, but living in eternal darkness, Hadad had no way to mark its passing. He might have been imprisoned for days or weeks or even years. The guards occasionally delivered meals of rotting food and stale water, but Hadad allowed the other prisoners to fight over his portions.
When Hadad had long since given up standing, the old prisoner’s moans finally ended in a death rattle. The guards didn’t remove the man’s body right away, and Hadad heard his cellmates fighting over his ragged tunic, hoping for a scrap of cloth for warmth against the dungeon’s cold nights. Then the other prisoners took turns sitting on the corpse, using it for a bench to avoid the filthy floor.
Every so often the guards dragged one of the prisoners away to be tortured. They didn’t take him far; Hadad could hear the muffled blows, the agonized screams, the guards’ laughter. The prisoner always returned unconscious. Hadad knew that the suspense of waiting for his turn had been carefully calculated to heighten his fear, but he felt strangely unafraid.
By the time the guards came for him, Hadad no longer cared what they did to him. He had retreated to a safe, dark place inside his soul where no one could ever hurt him again. He had searched hard for that place after his grandfather had died, hoping that strong wine might lead him to it, but now he knew that it could only be reached when all hope had finally died. His closest friends had betrayed him. He’d lost his home, his work, the woman he loved. He sat in a dark, stinking prison cell, surrounded by suffering and madness, hunger and thirst and cold. What more could anyone do to him?
The fact that he showed no fear, that he uttered no sound as the guards beat him, seemed to infuriate them. He heard none of their threats, felt none of their blows, because nothing could ever hurt him as much as Dinah’s betrayal had. He saw her face, heard her words over and over in his mind … and Hadad welcomed death.
Two weeks after he had locked Hadad in prison, King Manasseh summoned the warden to his throne room. “Well, what have you learned from the man? Is Hadad telling the truth?”
“We’ve learned nothing, Your Majesty. He refuses to talk.”
“Even when you tortured him? Threatened to kill him?”
“He doesn’t seem to care if he lives or dies.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Manasseh said. “Everyone fears death.”
The warden shrugged. “Not this prisoner, Your Majesty.”
“What about the informant you placed in his cell?” Zerah asked. “What does he report?”
“He says that Hadad has eaten almost nothing since we locked him up. He doesn’t seem to sleep, either. And he hasn’t said more than half a dozen words to anyone, even his fellow prisoners.”
Manasseh turned to Zerah in amazement. “What do you make of this?”
“Perhaps Hadad is telling the truth after all. If so, then the gods have answered your prayers, my lord. You asked for a decisive victory over your enemy; maybe it will come through this man.”
Manasseh felt the thrill of triumph. He had finally won the gods’ favor. His prayers had been answered. He would defeat Joshua at last.
“Take Hadad out of prison and
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