THE CHOSEN : The Youth: Historical Fiction (The Chosen Trilogy Book 1) by Kalo Shlomo

Author:Kalo, Shlomo [Kalo, Shlomo]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: DAT Publications
Published: 2015-07-02T04:00:00+00:00

The House Of Or-Nego

The column approached a line of low buildings, built mostly of clay, enclosed by a low wall, crude and blackened. An order was given and the Chaldean horsemen, besides a handful of officers accompanying Or-Nego, turned to their right, passed through a wide open gate and were swallowed up among the low buildings.

“Those must be their barracks,” Hananiah deduced correctly.

The walking exiles and the three open wagons also left the scene at this point. Or-Nego ordered the drivers of the three remaining wagons to continue on their way. Shortly after this they caught a glimpse, somewhere, at the edge of the fortified sector, like an extension to the lofty outer wall – of the ornate buildings of the royal compound.

“That’s our destination!” – Matthew remarked, pointing to the buildings with the high walls, and façade of white marble still gleaming in the rays of the evening sun. But before they reached the palace, Or-Nego gave another order and the convoy halted before a spacious house three storeys high, painted red, with an iron gate and stone-built walls enclosing a substantial courtyard with garden and lawns.

As soon as the column had stopped, the iron gate was opened and some three dozen retainers and maidservants came out to meet them, neatly attired and faces expressing restrained delight bordering on reverence. And they approached the exiles remaining in the wagons and the Chaldean soldiers, greeting them with silent bows and helping them to dismount from the horses and the wagons. The wagons and the beasts were conducted to the stables, while the people stood in the large courtyard and waited. Or-Nego approached them and said with a faint smile:

“I shall be glad to entertain you for a while in my house!”

And his hospitality was warm and lavish indeed. Tables were set out, and on the softly textured cloths of pink and white were laid all kinds of delicacies, wines and liquor and mead and aromatic cordials mixed with water. The chairs were high and upholstered in deerskin and the guests, worn out by the endless rigours of the journey, were grateful for the opportunity to relax in comfort.

A girl some twelve years of age came and sat beside him, looking at him with wise and perceptive eyes, soft as velvet. The skin of the girl’s face was the colour of alabaster, strangely offsetting the depth of her gaze.

“Who are you?” he asked her.

And she answered him:

“I am Adelain, the daughter of Or-Nego, commander of the army!” – she smiled gently and without looking away from his eyes she asked: “And who are you?”

“Daniel, son of Naimel, minister at the court of Judah.”

“And where is your father?” the girl went on to ask.

“He fell in battle, fighting the Chaldeans.”

“Oh!” the girl sighed softly. “I am so sorry! These wars and conquests bring nothing but grief and pain… to everyone!” She paused, and in a bid to change the subject she asked:

“You’re not eating meat – is that a commandment of your God?”

“Yes,” he answered her briefly.

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