Day of War (15 page)

Later that evening, Benaiah stopped to check his sandals for rips, trying to hold his shaking hands steady. He had been wounded by the lion’s claws worse than he was admitting to the others.

The city on the horizon was partially obscured by the heads of soldiers marching in front of him. His own head and shoulders were in such pain that he had sometimes wished, with all his heart, for death to take him. He’d even considered being dragged on a litter behind a donkey but had decided not give Josheb the pleasure of that joke. The whole army would have been laughing at him by evening.

Mighty Benaiah, killer of lions, hanging off the back of an ass.

Three days had passed since leaving Achish. They’d received no word yet of what was happening between the Philistines and the Israelites, but the further south they marched, the less the men cared about that battle and the more they worried about their homes in Ziklag. They inquired at each town they passed, but no one had heard of any raids.

The troops slept in the open each night, grateful to be without the burden of pitching tents. David had ordered them to move in fast-traveling formations, and he conversed with his officers on the trail to reduce the amount of time they would need to spend in camp.

At night, they slept in fighting positions dug into the ground with piled rocks bordering them, forming a tight perimeter, two men to a position. In enemy territory, one slept and the other lay awake, but as they were now in nonhostile lands, they were permitted to have only a fourth of their number awake at any time during the night. Each man carried his own provisions, so there was no need for a rationing staff.

Usually the perimeter of the camp was the ditch dug by the warriors who, to their everlasting ridicule, had slain the fewest men in the year’s fighting. In this ditch, the men relieved themselves. When a new man would join the army, the others would pretend they were being attacked and order the newcomer back to take cover in the ditch, and the hapless fellow would dig himself in and wait while sitting in excrement. Benaiah had seen foreign armies dig the ditch in the middle of the camp where it was safer, but David still followed many of the old laws about cleanliness.

No pranks were played on this trek, and the jokes snapped with less venom. Men coughed, waited, and spoke about their favorite games. The weather had remained cool and sunny. Grasslands and forests slipped along the horizon as they passed, blocking their view of the Great Sea, but they still felt its presence. Benaiah wondered, as he often did, why men sailed it and what was on the other side.

Benaiah finally recognized the upcoming town as Gath. The city of giants, of the family of Anak, capital of the hated Sea People. David had instructed them to march directly through each city, in plain sight, to cut down on rumors. They may have been dismissed from the battlefield due to the mistrust of the other Philistine kings,
but Achish had staunchly defended them. David wanted to keep the alliance intact. He wanted to remain in good favor with King Achish as long as possible, while he learned the forging of iron.

That led Benaiah’s thoughts to Keth, walking next to him. Keth noticed his glance. “What?”

“What are your thoughts, foreign devil?”

Keth smiled. “Women and weapons.”

Benaiah nodded. That was about all of it.

Benaiah pulled at the collar of his tunic as he marched. Men walked ahead of him in monotonous motion, mesmerizing him and forcing him to look away to ward off dreariness. If it had been hot— and if much of his body had not been throbbing in pain — he might have fallen asleep walking.

At the front of the column was David, speaking with Joab. Josheb and Eleazar were with them. Shammah lagged a little behind.

“What made Saul become David’s enemy?” Keth asked.

“Saul was jealous of him, even after David won incredible victories for him. The giant you heard of was only the first. He and the Three led troops of men into battle after battle against overwhelming odds and never lost.”

“I am anxious to see the Three in battle. I have heard much.”

“You will never forget it.”

“What makes them so effective?”

“They call it the
abir
— a fighting art developed many generations ago. It is a powerful style, and I have learned much from them about it. But Shammah will tell you that it is Yahweh and his power that leads them. Josheb and Eleazar are more practical, but they agree.”

“Tell me more about Saul.”

“Saul has a son named Jonathan, and Jonathan and David were closer than brothers. In fact, they
were
brothers, after David married Jonathan’s sister Michal. She was given to David as a prize for killing the giant, but when Saul began to hunt David, she was given
to another man. It wounded him, but he doesn’t speak of it. Despite all that, David stayed loyal to Saul because he was Yahweh’s chosen king for the people.”

And that’s why it’s better to let David worry about Yahweh, Benaiah thought. He bit his lip before continuing. “He ran from Saul into the desert. That was when we started showing up to help him. We spent time raiding enemies of Judah while convincing Achish that we were
destroying
Judah. Someone told Saul the same thing. The foolish man believed it.”

“You speak of your king that way?”

“He’s a wicked and foolish man. It’s the truth, so why would I say differently?” Benaiah knew the consequences would be steep if David heard him say it, but he no longer cared. “When the people in the town of Keilah in Judah were about to have their harvest stolen by lazy Philistines, David asked Yahweh if he should save them, and when Yahweh said yes, we attacked the Philistines.

“Even after that, after saving Israel’s lands from the pagans, Saul hunted David. The king threatened harm to anyone assisting David, and many turned on him then. And still David fought for them. Now, we have Philistines attacking our lands in the north and Amalekites in the south. We cannot be everywhere at once to stop it.”

“I still don’t understand why David has not assassinated Saul,” said Keth.

“He says that it would be revenge. That his time has not yet come. It doesn’t make sense to me either.”

“Where do the Israelites stand on David now?”

“Divided. We are folk heroes to some, enemies to others. We alone have stood between them and destruction at the hands of their king or raids from our enemies. But there will be a new king one day. David.”

Benaiah stopped, thinking he’d said enough. More than enough. But Keth waited expectantly. “What else?” the Hittite prodded.

Benaiah thought about it. “He killed a bear and a lion when he was a boy with only a shepherd staff. He has perfect skill with every weapon ever forged, more so than even the Three. He still loves his sling and fights with it occasionally. The men think he is odd, and for good reason. He speaks aloud with no one around. He raises his arms to heaven at strange times. He dances, alone, when no one is watching. He fights with the sword of the champion Goliath that he killed in his youth, and it terrifies his enemies.”

“Why doesn’t he carry it now?”

Benaiah grinned. “Traveling with the Philistines? No, he left it behind at Ziklag. Carrying it in front of Goliath’s people wouldn’t help our cause among them.”

“He took it from the field that day?”

“No, from the priest of Nob. Something else you should know is that David carries terrible guilt and goes into long periods of despair. For many reasons but especially about what happened at Nob. While David was running from Saul, Doeg the Edomite, chief shepherd of Saul’s flocks, spotted David in Nob and reported back to Saul, who flew into a rage and believed the priests at Nob were sheltering David. But no Israelite would obey Saul’s orders to kill an entire priestly household, so Doeg, foreign filth that he was, slaughtered the village. Innocent men, women, children. David speaks of it painfully.”

“I am having a hard time understanding your people,” Keth said. Benaiah nodded. “It’s my blood, and it makes no more sense to me.”

Benaiah had told Keth much about the Israelites on the days of march. He had described the tribal system: how Joshua had divided the land among the twelve tribes from the sons of the patriarch Jacob centuries before, how Benjamin’s small tribe had befriended the powerful tribe of Judah, and how Benjamin’s tribe was chosen as the royal line because it was the least likely to cause controversy.
He had told him of the people’s desire for a king to unite them. He had explained the Hebrew Law and why hardly any of the people followed it anymore.

“Yahweh gave the Law to Moses after our people left Egypt, but after the warlord Joshua died, the people turned away from Yahweh. They wanted to be left alone in the land and not have to worry about clearing out the Canaanites. So, for many years, Yahweh raised up heroes to save our people from invasion. But now, after demanding a king, we are under Saul. I suppose we deserve our fate.”

Benaiah had thought about telling Keth his story. He felt like he was supposed to tell him, but when he tried, it would not come out. There was pain in his chest, and his throat closed, choking him.

They slept next to one another in the perimeter holes. Keth told him about his own lands and his own people and why he wanted to serve under David. He said a voice had told him to pack his things and join David’s army.

“A voice?” asked a skeptical Benaiah.

“A voice,” Keth had nodded, “a clear and strong voice. While I was up in the mountains. I can’t say who it came from. Perhaps your Yahweh. I have not heard from my own gods in many years. But I listened to it.”

Benaiah had not attempted to make sense of it. Each man came in his own way.

The three men set out from the encampment early in the morning before the sun rose, dressed as ragged peasants, carrying nothing but a dagger apiece. The leader had ordered no food or provisions, and the two who accompanied him, accustomed to his increasingly bizarre behavior, thought little of it.

They became more concerned when they realized that he was leading them around the edge of the massive Philistine army gathered on the slopes of Mount Hermon. As the men crept through the forest, the flicker of enemy campfires speckled the treetops overhead. The Philistines were close enough that the sounds of an army rousing in the early morning could be heard. Cooking ware and weapons clanked, and commanders shouted orders. The Philistines were preparing for the first watch of the morning, when most ambushes took place.

The leader was careful to lead them far enough away from the perimeter to avoid being spotted by the sentries. He was in a hurry. Despite the proximity of their enemies, they needed to pass through
this forest to reach their destination in time, and they needed the cover of darkness.

After an hour of picking their way across the rocky forest floor, guided only by the leader’s confident knowledge of the area, the three slipped over the shoulder of the Hermon range and, as the rays of sunlight began to appear in the sky, found themselves facing the desolate Endor region.

The forest gave way suddenly to a barren landscape that contained nothing but gray sand and rocky hills. Caves pocked almost every hillside. The large man pushed them hard, many times having them crawl on their bellies through ravines to avoid being spotted by roving patrols. The distance they covered was not great, but the need for stealth slowed them.

Once a Philistine foot patrol nearly stumbled over them, but the dust covering them from their crawls sufficiently camouflaged the men against the hillside, and the patrol passed unaware. They picked their way across the harsh environment until just after dark, when they came to a bank of limestone cliffs running north and south.

It was cold, and as they made their way toward the cliffs looming in the moonlight, the leader — a very tall man — kept wrapping his cloak around himself tighter to ward off the air. He approached a dip in the ground and leaped across a small stream without even pausing. The other two were forced to remove their thick woolen sandals and wade across, but their leader did not delay his pace for their sake. They grunted in frustration as he nearly disappeared from sight. After retying their footwear, they sprinted to catch up.

The trail took a slight turn at the base of the cliffs, and the group followed it, shoving branches and overhanging limbs out of the way as the thicket near the base crowded around them. After a while, the branches suddenly cleared, and they found themselves at the edge of a small open meadow. The cliff walls created a semicircle
in front of them. The forest they had been walking through formed a border to their left, all the way to the edge of the rock wall. The ground sloped gently to the base of the cliff, where a black cleft in the rock broke the smooth face.

“What is this place, lord?”

The leader’s thoughts were interrupted, and he glanced at his companion. “It was used by the pagans many years ago, before the time of Joshua.”

He stepped forward into the clearing and made his way among the rocks scattered across the ground, eventually stopping near what they now saw was a small dwelling built into the cliff face. In a small corral nearby were several cattle. Chickens clucked softly and wandered around the house.

His two companions waited in silence, nervously eyeing the surrounding forest, almost expecting a winged demon to leap out at them from one of the caves. Through the window they could see flickers of orange from a fire inside.

The man waited a moment longer, then called out, “I seek counsel.”

They heard nothing for a moment, then a slow scuffling inside the house. The man pulled the wool hood over his head a little tighter as someone appeared in the doorway.

“What business is this?” It was a female voice. The two companions were expecting a bedraggled old crone, but to their surprise a young and attractive woman stood before them. Her dark hair was heavily braided, and she wore sets of copper bands around her neck and arms. She stared at them.

“I need you to bring someone back for me. Conjure him up. I will give you the name.”

The woman looked at the tall man in front of her and then at the men who accompanied him. It was awhile before she responded.” You know what Saul has done with the mediums and spiritists,
cutting them off from the land. Why would you ask me that? I would be killed immediately if someone found out.”

“As Yahweh lives, you will not be punished,” the man replied.

She watched him carefully, occasionally glancing at his companions as well. It seemed to them she took a long time, but finally seemed to come to a decision. “Come inside, then,” she said. She turned and disappeared back into the house.

The tall figure looked at his companions. “I will go alone. Find food if you need it.” He ducked under the beam at the entrance of the house and went inside.

They were confused for a moment, then shrugged their shoulders and enjoyed the quiet. The night was perfect and crisp. All the sounds of the woods around them were amplified against the cliff face. One of them fidgeted his foot, then spoke. “Who is she?”

“Not sure. Strange that he would come here.”

“Yes. Mediums. Thought they were all gone.”

“No, too popular. The people hide them. It doesn’t make any sense that he came here, though, when he was the one who banned them.”

“Not for us to say. We are not the king.”

“I wish we were. We would have perfect happiness and peace all the time. And women. Lots of good, plump women.”

“Plump?”

He nodded. “Plump.”

They stamped their feet and paced. One of them squatted halfway to the ground and held his arms out in front of him. “What are you doing?” his partner asked.

“Keeping warm. It keeps your limbs working and the blood flowing. I learned this in David’s army. Try it, Jehu.”

“You were in David’s army? You never said that.”

“No, not if I was interested in keeping my head attached to my body. He’s not very popular in some circles.”

“Ever speak with him?”

“Of course,” said the larger one. “He always came to check on us when we were out on the perimeter. Never missed a night. Impossible discipline.”

“I heard he would do that.”

“What else have you heard?”

The tall man kept the hood of his cloak pulled over his head so that the woman would not recognize him. She seemed not to care, going about her preparations quietly.

He gazed at the fire pit against the wall and followed the smoke up through the hole in the ceiling. The warmth of the fire against his face made him feel old. He was hungry, and that made him feel even older. Too old even to stand up and put one more foot in front of the other. The flames seemed to speak to him, to tell him that his days of walking were soon to end. He sighed.

The woman knelt next to the fire. He wasn’t sure what he expected her to do, assuming it would be some sort of heathen ritual with bones and blood, but she only held her position by the fire with her eyes closed. He waited.

The fire flickered brighter a moment; he felt the hair on his arms raise. His eyes went dry. He blinked.

“Who do you want me to bring up?”

“The prophet Samuel.”

She lowered her eyes and stared at the ground, swaying and muttering. This went on a few moments. He felt himself relaxing.

The woman shrieked and dropped to hands and knees, her face turned up at him. Her eyes were black as death, black as a starless night. “You are Saul!” she screamed. “Why have you deceived me?”

He sat forward. “Do not be afraid. Just tell me what you see.”

She glared at him with her black eyes, then slammed her face against the floor. She stared into the depths of the earth. Her hands scraped at the dirt, her fingernails snapping with the pressure. “I see a spirit coming up out of the ground.”

She had bitten through her lip; blood leaked onto the dirt by her face.

“What does he look like?”

Her eyes went wide with terror. She looked back up at him, blood streaming down her chin and neck. “An old man with a robe.”

Then she stood and wandered out of the room into the night, as if dazed.

Saul was overcome. He laid down, face to the earth. He heard something shuffle, and then a log on the fire crackled. The ground became hot under his face, and he felt someone standing over him. It was the prophet. He could feel the power of his presence.

“Why do you disturb me and bring me up?” Samuel’s rich, heavy tone resounded in the room, even more pure than it had been in life.

Saul could not raise his head to look at him; he was too afraid. His own voice was weak and frail: “I am in great distress. The Philistines are coming against me, and Yahweh has turned away from me. He no longer answers, either through prophets or through dreams. I have summoned you so that you can tell me what to do, as you did in the old days.”

He heard the prophet sigh. “Why do you consult me now that you are the Lord’s enemy? He has done what he predicted through me. The Lord has torn the kingdom from your hand and given it to another.” Samuel’s voice became louder. “He has given it to David.”

Saul felt tears on his cheeks. He wanted to protest, but there was no point.

Samuel continued. “Because you did not obey the Lord or carry out his judgment against the Amalekites, the Lord has done this to you today.”

Into Saul’s mind flashed the image of the Amalekite king, Agag, kneeling before him, at his mercy, the orders from the prophet clear: spare no one. But Saul had wanted so much—he wanted the prize, wanted the Amalekites as slaves. Surely Yahweh would understand. But all that followed had been darkness. Saul began to weep.

Samuel’s voice became even louder. “The Lord has handed both you and Israel over to the Philistines. This time tomorrow, you and your sons will be with me. The army of Israel will be given to the Philistines.”

There was a breeze, a footstep, and the fire flickered again. And Saul knew he was alone.

The two men outside and the woman came into the hut not long afterward. They found their king lying on his face, weeping. They lifted him up to a sitting position and tried to get him to drink while the woman set about relighting the fire.

“Yahweh has become my enemy,” Saul muttered to his men.

They looked at each other, then continued steadying him. He rocked back and forth, tears trickling down his beard.

The medium had reignited her fire and now walked over to where Saul sat, still quaking, his teeth chattering. Nervous, clearly desperate for them to leave, she spoke quietly. “Your servant has obeyed you and summoned the prophet. Now honor me and eat some bread before you go.”

He shook his head. “I will not eat.”

“Lord, you need nourishment for our journey back. Please consider eating,” one of his companions said.

Saul’s entire countenance had changed. He no longer carried himself with authority; he now looked like a deserted and lonely old man. The gray in his beard had seemed to increase. “I will
eat something,” he conceded dejectedly. “Perhaps some bread and meat.”

She set about preparing a meal while the two men helped their king to a bed in the corner. Saul collapsed onto the bed and lay still. The woman slaughtered a calf outside and began preparing a platter of meat and bread, unleavened in her haste. When the meal was ready, the men ate, helping their master with his own meal. He went through the motions and said nothing.

The hour was late. When the men had finished, they helped Saul stand and wrap himself in his traveling cloak. The food had revived him somewhat. One of Saul’s companions gave the woman a shekel of silver for her trouble. They stepped with their master into the night.

The medium watched them leave the meadow and disappear into the forest, then returned inside.

The fire was roaring with the fresh wood that had been laid on it. She settled onto a stool next to the flames and stared at the fire. The events of the evening had shaken her. Before, when she’d consulted the
ob,
the spirit who consulted the dead, she had been in complete control. Her customers were always impressed.

Tonight, when the figure had appeared, it had been something outside of her power. She’d felt terror in its presence, not control. Something deep had been awakened.

Her mind wandered back to the tall king. He’d looked even more frightened than she had been when the old man suddenly appeared from the bowels of the earth. He had not told her what the prophet had said to him; perhaps it was something so awful that he could not speak it. This was something far beyond her understanding, and as she felt the shadows of the deepening night begin to creep
through her window, she threw another log on the fire and began her preparations for bed.

Her sleep that night was fitful, full of images of an old man angrily emerging from the land of the dead with blazing eyes and a draped mantle.