The sun was already setting as Shlomo-Suleyman, having already sighted the familiar surroundings of Ma'rib, had to stop in a wadi oasis.
---
There were just three of them, noted Shlomo as he jumped from his wounded horse and raised his hands. The bandits approached him, their knives drawn.
"Surrender!" - one of them shouted.
"What do you want?" - asked Shlomo, lowering his hands ever-so-slightly.
"You can keep your rags, everything else goes to us!" - shouted the largest bandit, who told him to surrender. He grinned maliciously.
Shlomo made a move for his sword, quickly dodging the deadly arrow that another bandit launched at him. That one was the only one with a bow; an unexpectedly good bow, at that. Probably stolen. Then with the skill that he had gained while campaigning in Phoenicia he attacked the startled bandit leader, evading his knife and cutting through the bandit's robes with ease. Still, something went wrong - the bandit leader was wounded, but not at all fatally. Cursing himself, Shlomo braced himself, while another arrow cut his left ear badly. He ignored the pain; he was concentrated on the battle.
Roaring, the bandit leader tried to charge at him, but the wound proved more serious than Shlomo had first thought. The huge bandit collapsed before reaching Shlomo, who promptly beheaded him in one sweep. The third bandit wisely stayed aside, so Shlomo only needed to deal with the archer. Another arrow hit him in the left arm; evidently, the archer, even if skilled, wasn't used to this bow. Shlomo charged at him, forcing the man, who had a rather hideous scar as Shlomo saw more clearly now, to drop the bow and fight him with his knife. But a nice jatagan curved sword, a Phoenician steel sword that was Shlono's trophey from Tyre, had many advantages over a knife. True, it can't be thrown nearly as well a knife (for Shlomo's enemy did throw the knife at him upon realizing that he had no chance of hitting him otherwise), but it was longer and stronger.
Another head littered the sand. The third man was nowhere to be seen. Shlomo was panting heavily, he took the knife out of his abdoman, tried to cut off a piece of his clothings to bind the wounds, tumbled as he moved to check his horse, and collapsed.
His dried-up corpse was discovered eight days later, by a caravan.
---
Suleyman, as he was called before travelling all the way to Yathrib with a caravan and joining the growing Yeshuan sect under the name of Shlomo, was not a hero. He was an experienced warrior, a trusted acolyte of Yeshua himself, he personally led many charges and led a small group of his men into Sidon to help the rebels there when Yeshua ordered him to do so. But he was not a hero; his deeds could not be compared with neither those of the ancient Warrior-King David whom they came to avenge, nor with any of his warriors; nor was he anything like the great Yeshua and his trusted lieutenants. And his fame... was almost nonexistant. If one were to ask an average Yeshuan soldier who Shlomo ha-Shebi was, he would either say that he knew him not, either that he was a "brave warrior". Not much else. Those who served under him said that he was a brave, cunning yet cold and unfriendly commander, a one who could not be loved or even be considered a friend, but a one whom it was impossible not to admire. A few would also note that Yeshua trusted him, and sometimes even consulted him; but then again, such was Yeshua that he often consulted the lowest of soldiers when it seemed like they might have some good ideas or useful information.
Shlomo was not a hero. He knew it, and knew that he was hardly well-known. So when, on the fourth day after the fall of Tyre and Sidon, just as the hysteric mourning of Yeshua was over, a man approached him and told him that David - ofcourse, not the ancient king, but one of Yeshua's commanders and the one who was in charge of combatting the assassins, the spies and the traitors that constantly assailed Yeshua's army - wanted to meet with him in private, Shlomo was quite surprised.
David ha-Yidi was an uncommonly-old man, his true age unknown yet rumoured to be a hundred. And indeed, he did look very old, yet somehow still moved and talked, and fought. Or used to fight until his right hand was chopped off by a Nabatean. But what he has lost in strenght with age and wounds he quite made up for in cunning and wisdom. According to the rumours, he was the one who organized the negotiations with the Phoenician leaders, the mastermind behind the plan that gave Tyre, step-by-step, to the grand Yeshuan army.
His voice was, however, not a one of a frail old man. There was steel in that voice, as he explained to Shlomo that with Yeshua's death, the tribes will once more turn to squabbling - and that it will doom them all, unless they could be united again. The Egyptians in the west, the Hittites and other barbarians in the north, the Persians in the east... Even their present Phoenician allies wouldn't hesitate before backstabbing them in their time of weakness. And then, it will all be for nothing.
That must not happen. He and Yehuda, the shofet of the Kindaim who were the most eager amongst Yeshua's Bedouin converts, the husband of Yeshua's daughter and one of the most famous and popular of Yeshua's lieutenants, seeked to act before enemy spies do. Tribes needed to be persuaded to acknowledge Yehuda as the successor of Yeshua; and messangers to them were already sent out. No - David had a different yet similar task for Shlomo.
Egypt was most probably going to turn on them soon. Spies have confirmed that envoys from Egypt were in the Free Phoenician cities, up to no good. Through the immense Sinai Canal, now out of Phoenician hands as well, a huge, never-ending caravan of huge "trade ships" travelled, ostensibly in a trading expedition. That was quite suspicious as well. The Egyptians were the most immediate threat, and the most vile, for it was hard not to see that the Egyptians seeked to take over the entire Red Sea.
Alas, the Yeshuans had practically no fleet to even attempt to counter the Egyptians. There was one kingdom that could help in that regard. Its fleets weren't as large as Egyptian ones, and by itself it was not really too strong. Yet with it on the Yeshuan side, and with the steps being taken to save the empire, they would stand a real chance to fight back the Egyptian onslaught.
That kingdom was Sheba, in the end of the Red Sea. Sheba, from which Shlomo came and whose language and lands he still knew and remembered, to some extent anyway. There was no better choice than him, even if he is not recognized there - indeed, perhaps it would be even better if he is not recognized. Shlomo readily agreed to carry the message there; but to make sure that the message was not going to fall into the wrong hands as he was to travel along the Arabian coastline (somewhat risky, yet this was the fastest route), he was told not to take the message itself. No, he needed to memorize it.
And memorize it he did, before setting out for Esion-gver on the next day. From there, he sailed for his home, to see it for the first time since he was thirteen. He used to live just outside of the Sheban capital, Marib, yet he has forgot it; his imagination drew mighty sandstone walls, but those were the ones he saw in Tyre - suddenly, Shlomo realized that he didn't remember his country at all. Some words... the Tihaman coast... he didn't even remember his mother!
His past was lost, and there was no gaining it back, if only because both he and the land he grew up in, the land that he didn't even love but just knew that he was born there, were now irrevocably changed. He would not come as a Sheban who, after many years of absence, came back to his home; he would not even mention that he was a Sheban. No, he wasn't Suleyman. He was Shlomo... not even ha-Shebi, he was Shlomo ha-Midbari, Solomon of the Desert, for he came to Yathrib from the desert, not from Sheba. He was Shlomo ha-Midbari, a toughened warrior of the Yeshuans, who under other circumstances would have purified this peculiar land of Sheba with sword and fire, but in those strained circumstances agreed to tolerate the existence of the Shebans, for they were needed for the grand designs of He Who Brings Into Existence Whatever Exists.
The Egyptians were nowhere in sight, and he arrived peacefully at Mocha. Disguised as a merchant, he purchased a fine horse and rode hard for Ma'rib. He nearly made it there. But God has decided that he should not see Marib again, and that his message remains undelivered, that any alliance between David and the Shebans should not come, or at least come much later than expected. Strange are His ways!
so i have maps for 1000BC, 750BC, 500BC, 250BC, 100BC, 0AD, 100-200AD 
My own second story should come later tonight.
