The beleaguered city’s breath was thick with smoke, the scent of blood and defeat clung to the
wind. From the lofty heights of the Temple, a golden glow could still be seen flickering wanly
amid the smoldering fires and the torchlight. Near the altar, two figures crouched – Elazar, the
high priest’s apprentice, and Ehud, a former soldier turned temple guard.
“They will be upon us before daybreak, my friend,” Elazar whispered, sweat lined the creases of
his furrowed brow.

Ehud, always practical, looked at the sacred object they had been carrying. The fearsome figures
that adorned its lid seemed to watch him in eternal silence and pity.

“Then we must move now,” he replied quietly.

Outside, the once mighty walls of the city shuddered with Babylonian fury. The last of the tiny
nation’s defenders, decimated by eighteen months of siege, fell back in flame, desperation and
despair.

High above the fray, Elazar and Ehud strained against the heavy altar stone.

“The legends must be true,” Elazar, gasped as he rested momentarily. “Otherwise, all is lost.”

Finally, the stone slid back and fell to the floor with a thud that seemed to shake the heavens
themselves. The two men beheld a hidden tunnel faintly illumined miraculously by ancient oil
lamps that hadn’t been tended for centuries.

Elazar and Ehud once again hefted their burden. Ehud spoke to his companion with awe in his
voice.

“It seems to burn,” the temple guard muttered, staggering.

Elazar looked at his partner and nodded at the gilt carrying poles now wrapped in linen.
“That’s not fire. It’s Presence.”

They descended into the tunnel. Elazar located a hidden mechanism which sealed the entrance
behind them from the inside. With that, they vanished into the earth.

****

​

Days later, they emerged exhausted in the hills above the Dead Sea, a perennial place of refuge
for bandits, rebels and mystics.

“Why Ethiopia,” Ehud asked one night as they rested under a canopy of stars.

“Solomon,” Elazar replied. “He imparted wisdom to the Queen of Sheba. Some say more. As
everyone knows, the king was not immune to the charms of women. If the bloodline continues, it
surely continues there. Our burden must rest in the hands of those descended from the tribe of the
lion.”

Ehud stared across the barren land. In the spectral glow of the moon, desert appeared to merge
into oblivion.

“And if we are hunted?”

“Oh, my friend,” Elazar spoke softly. “We will be. That’s where you come in.”

****

Their path led through Nabatean lands, where sandstorms helped to cloak them from those they
now knew to be pursuing them. Once, in the deep gorges near Petra, they were ambushed.

“Lay down what you carry,” a voice growled from the rocks above them. “We have no quarrel
with you. Leave it and we guarantee safe passage.”

A swarm of arrows hissed into the earth near their feet.

Ehud didn’t hesitate. He unsheathed his sword fluidly and, with a cry, leapt into the rocks. Steel
sang. Men screamed. An awful silence followed.

He returned bleeding, an arrow in his thigh. Elazar tended to the warrior’s wounds.

“We will be dead before we reach Kush.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Ehud rasped through the pain.

****

Months passed in dizzying profusion. Ehud had recovered from his wounds. Remarkably, the
two fugitives eluded those who sought their secret. Finally, Lake Tana and the headwaters of the
Blue Nile rose through a veil of fog. Stone stelae, ancient even then, marked the boundary of the
Aksumite Kingdom.

​

Elazar and Ehud quietly made their presence known. They were received by a ranking member
of the priestly caste, a caste charged with maintaining the old ways and preserving the ancient
knowledge. He and his brethren claimed to be descendants of those who had served in Sheba’s
court.

The two travelers were relieved of their burden. The sacred object was taken in silence to a stone
sanctuary built to mirror Solomon’s Temple. Elazar and Ehud were feted and encouraged to rest
and regain their strength.

On the seventh night, a tall, hooded man came to their quarters. He bowed low but his voice was
cold.

“You have performed a remarkable feat. A service of incomparable significance.”

Elazar studied the man. “Why do your eyes convey such sorrow?”

“To keep a secret,” the man in the hood explained, “it is necessary to silence its last keepers.”

Ehud rose slowly, sword now in his hand. “So that’s how it is to be?”

“You will both be remembered,” the man said as he stepped aside to reveal two more robed
figures behind him, their blades drawn.

Ehud lunged. The room exploded into motion. One assassin fell, throat gashed by steel. The
second, however, drove a dagger deep into Ehud’s back. He crumpled with a final gasp, but not
before dragging his killer down with him.

Elazar ran out into the moonlight, through temple gardens haunted by vague silhouettes. He
reached the sanctuary and banged on the sealed doors. There was no response. The doors did not
open. From behind, a shadow loomed.

The same hooded man who had accosted him in his quarters came into view. His blade flashed in
the moonlight.

“You understand,” he said with a mixture of pity and admiration, “why this must be so.”

Elazar’s final breath caught in his throat. His eyes registered resignation … and understanding.

***

Centuries later, in the monastic silence of Aksum, priests circle a stone chapel. None but one
may enter. His name is never spoken. He eats once a day. He never leaves. He guards a golden
chest, veiled in incense.

Although everyone remembers their sacrifice, no one speaks of Elazar and Ehud. Their bones lie
unmarked in foreign soil.

Some nights, when lightening dances over the highlands, monks claim they see two men – one
cloaked in priestly white, the other in worn armor – standing vigil by the chapel, whispering a
secret in a forgotten tongue.