There was no lock on the door, no bolt.

That length of wood had been cut to fit horizontally from notch to notch across the passage.

Once that beam was fitted in its place, whoever wished to reach the roof would have to burn or batter down the door.

I moved the door and placed the length of olive-wood on end behind it.
I found the view from the ramparts much more interesting than the soul-saving formalities of eighty or so potential cut-throats.
While they prayed I stood watching the shadows deepen in the Jordan Valley, as no doubt Joshua once watched them from somewhere near that same spot before he marshalled his invading host.

You could understand why people who had wandered forty years in a stark and howling wilderness should yearn for those coloured, fertile acres between the Jordan and the sea: why they should be willing to fight for them, die for them, do anything rather than turn back.
By the time we had filed down--Anazeh last again--the servants had nearly finished spreading a banquet.