Jephthah was a marvel. Hulking in his armor, sun glittering off his greaves, helm, and shield, he was impregnable.

Shobi knew that he couldn’t allow the young Hebrews to perceive him as their ruler for very long. They would soon have the power to overthrow him. And, when they did, Nahash would likely side with them. At his age, the bonds of friendship would quickly eclipse the bonds of blood. So Shobi decided that tonight, while he was still firmly in control, he would cease to be a slave-master. He would become a different kind of Master.

Jephthah heard voices. He couldn’t see anything, couldn’t even tell if his eyes were open or shut. His head hurt, he felt sick, and he couldn’t remember what had happened. But even in this confused state, he thought there was something wrong with the voices he was hearing. The words sounded wrong. The speakers pronounced them strangely and jumbled the order too. Yet, he could still understand them.