The Philistine Warrior (16 page)

A few days later, however, another bit of news appeared. I was seeing to the repair of my chariots—such few as we had left—when Captain Jaita came running up. He’d just been at the Gazan battalion officers’ mess, he said, and had the latest word. To my astonishment and chagrin, I now learned that the nobility of
Gaza
had met and elected, as new Sheren, none other than Brigadier General Lord Warati! This was almost too much to take.

I turned to my long-suffering second in command: “
Sheren
Warati, indeed!” I spat. “Did the rabble take over the nobles’ Assembly? How could they do something like that?”

Jaita, cocky (as usual), curled up one corner of his mouth in cynical reply: “No, sir. The common people had nothing to do with it. But
Gaza
is faction-ridden….” He paused. “Well, they couldn’t stomach an adultery-inspired assassination, and got together long enough to put
that
party out of business.”

“Well? And?”

“Ah, well! According to what I’ve heard in the Gazan mess, the Assembly had to find someone not identified with any of the factions, or else there might be civil war.” He was enjoying the irony of it all.

Echoing his mood, I said: “I see. And, of course, in these troubled times,
et
cetera
,
et
cetera
, there must be a proven warrior at the helm, even if he’s only just been made a noble—and Warati fit the bill. He’s been out of
Gaza
long enough to have no enemies—or hated friends, for that matter…and he’s married to the late Sheren’s daughter….”

“Yes, m’Lord, except that he does have
friends
in
Gaza
, rich, highly respected people, who put his name in nomination…friends also, I believe, of your Uncle Zaggi….”

“What?” (But, of course!) I could see that Jaita regarded all of it as the most hilarious twist of all, and I finally, with some effort, managed to crack a bitter smile of my own.

He had more to say, however: “There’s one bit of good news. General Warati leaves for
Gaza
this very afternoon.” I cheered up a bit at that. “But,” he said, eyes twinkling with malicious glee,

“Sheren Ittai has ordered us to come over for a farewell ceremony….” My smile vanished once more. “And in our best uniforms,” he concluded.

I swore a nasty oath. But of course we went. After all, it wouldn’t do for me to offend Ittai any more than I’d already done. Nor would I have it said that I had strained relations between Askelon and
Gaza
by snubbing the latter’s brand new Sheren, especially in our nation’s time of trial,
et cetera
,
et
cetera
.

Warati was in good form that afternoon. As he was leaving the ceremony, and Ekron—taking his Gazan battalion with him—he stopped to speak to me, in a voice that all my charioteers could hear. “Well, Major Phicol,” he began, each word dripping with sarcasm, “your pretty boys really saw some
man’s
war, didn’t they?” Before I could reply, he’d already turned on Captain Jaita: “Didn’t you, boy?” he demanded.

Jaita clicked his heels. “Yes, General,” he answered—quite properly, but also neglecting to use the new title of “Lord,” which Warati now prized above all else.

“And they fought excellently,” I added, giving him no title at all. “Especially considering the asinine way I was forced to employ them, and deploy them.”

He gave me an icy stare: “Are you criticizing Sheren Ittai’s leadership?” he growled. Ittai wasn’t close enough to hear any of this—fortunately. But I hadn’t really meant him, anyway, and Warati knew it.

“No,” I snapped. “I mean those who gave him stupid advice—and should’ve known better!” At that, some of my charioteers let out a loud “hurrah!” and a bit of laughter to go with it. Warati turned purple, and whirled around to face them. But they stood at attention, looking quite innocent. They knew that Warati no longer had any power over them—or over me, for that matter—because he was out of Askelon’s service from the moment he accepted the post of Sheren of Gaza.

He spun around to confront me again: “Your uncles will hear of this,” he snarled, clenching his fists.

“Did I say something wrong?” I asked Captain Jaita.

“No, sir,” Jaita replied. “I didn’t hear anything.”

And there Warati stood, still looking like the commoner he really was—among his betters.

“You’ll see,” he snorted, and stalked away, leaving us there— smiling gently upon his rage. In the long run, he knew, even Zaggi couldn’t touch us. My charioteers came from the richest and most noble families of Askelon, Ashdod, and Gath—every one of them would’ve been an officer if they’d joined the infantry—and they would remember this incident, and all that had led up to it, for a long time to come. I might suffer a lack of promotion if Zaggi chose to discipline me, but even that was unlikely; and my men were certainly safe enough.

Not long after Warati’s departure, I and my exhausted squadron also took leave of Ekron; and with us went Askelon’s battalion of infantry as well. This left Sheren Ittai with nothing but his own resources for the further defense of Ekron’s territorly—pending a decision on the part of each Sheren as to how much new aid they could give poor old Ittai. Our own cities now had an immediate need of our services again. After all, the Danite threat was fairly minor so

far as Askelon,
Ashdod
,
Gaza
, and
Gath
were concerned. Their main worry now was that the Judaeans might over run all of southern
Philistia
and inspire, or force, our Canaanite subjects into all-out rebellion at the same time.

The danger to Askelon was considerable, as I perceived all the more clearly while on our way home. When the volunteers from Ashod and Gath split off from my squadron—already under strength as it was—I found myself with little more than an understrength troop of charioteers, although they constituted the cream of the crop of Askelon’s mounted forces. Thus, bit by bit, Philistine unity fell apart under the pressure of general war. We reached Askelon in a state of disrepair, materially and psychologically as well.

Crisis or no crisis, I wasn’t allowed to do much more than begin the rebuilding of my chariot forces before I got called on the carpet by Chancellor Zaggi
and
Sheren Maoch, both. That sounded serious. I met with them in the Council room—with the full Council present.

“Now see here,” my Uncle Zaggi commenced, “what’s all this about you and Sheren Warati?” Maoch watched as I got grilled. He sat back in his chair, drumming his fingers on the table.

I explained what had happened, starting from the beginning, and I went into detail about the campaign, Warati’s bad advice to

Sheren Ittai, his insults, all of it. I’m afraid I even began to repeat myself in frustration.

Zaggi cut me short: “Major,” he said, “I’m not concerned with rehashing disagreements between commanders over tactics.” (Of course he wasn’t—because that might involve discussing his own encouragement of Sheren Ittai’s folly.) “What’s at issue here is a personal quarrel between you and your charioteers on the one hand, and not one but
two
sherens on the other—two of the five lords of our nation, damn it, Phicol!”

“My Lord,” I replied, “I’ve a dozen noble witnesses who’ll tell you that General Warati deliberately picked a fight with us on his last day in Ekron. He made sneering comments about us charioteers, and called Captain Jaita ‘boy’ right to his face. If I hadn’t snapped back at Warati, I’d have lost all respect from my men. And my own self-respect as well.”

Zaggi slammed his hand down on the table: “Goddamn it, Phicol, don’t you think I know about Warati’s behavior? I know he acts like that! My God, no sooner do I help him into power than he turns around and acts like a vindictive bully. But that doesn’t mean you have to reply in kind.
You’re
a gentleman, after all!”

“Yes, sir,” I said, a bit sheepishly—because he was almost right on that point; and yet I’d lost my temper for Jaita’s sake, not my own.

“Furthermore,” the Chancellor went on, “you didn’t have to cast aspersions on Sheren Ittai. And it doesn’t matter how accurate your comments may have been. You knew they’d get back to him—everybody gossips in Ekron.”

“I did so only when provoked beyond endurance,” I answered. “His leadership, so-called, cost us the lives of a lot of fine young men—and did incalculable damage to the interests of all
Philistia
.”

Maoch held up his hand to stop Zaggi from making any reply. “Phicol’s right about that, Zaggi,” our Sheren told him, and Zaggi subsided. Oddly enough, no matter how much influence Zaggi had over his brother, he always backed down whenever Maoch pulled rank on him—such was his ingrained respect for authority.

So Zaggi turned to me with a softer expression: “All right, Phicol—I’m not really blaming you. But look: we’re all in a tight spot now—all our borders are in turmoil…it’s time all of us pulled together.
Philistia
needs unity—and you let your temper run away with you, alienating two-fifths of our sherens!” Now he was the one repeating himself—and feeling frustrated. His voice rose again: “And on top of that, I had to explain to Melek Nasuy why
you
can’t get along with the lords of two of our sovereign cities—in a time of crisis.” Then he quieted down again. “I can’t tell you how long it took me to calm Warati down. He’s very sensitive about his dignity, and feeling a bit uncertain in his new position. But we need him. Not only is he—you’ve admitted it yourself—not only is he a good infantry leader, on the tactical level, anyway, but he now controls the resources of the third most powerful city in Philistia, after Gath and Askelon. Ittai’s not so important; nor is he so mad at you—”

“Sir, may I say something—” I began; but the Sheren cut us both off:

“Phicol, we’ve worked up a plan to deal with this matter,” Maoch told me. “Warati’s agreed, and so’s Ittai. None of the campaign incidents will be rehashed. There’ll simply be an acknowledgment by you
and
Warati that you both spoke in anger—for which you’re both now sorry. Ittai doesn’t feel directly insulted; I believe he recognizes that he botched some aspects of the campaign. In any case, he won’t be involved in the mutual apology. As the junior man, you’re to apologize to Warati first. And then he’ll be gracious enough—after all, he’s a sheren now—he’ll be cooperative enough, for the sake of Philistia, to excuse you for your anger…and then he’ll make an allusion to his own ill-chosen words, made in jest, which, he regrets, weren’t taken in that spirit.”

“But, sir, that’s not true—”

He cut me short again: “Truth is not what’s at stake here, Phicol,” Maoch said—with more determination in his voice than I’d ever heard. “Nor am I making a request of you. This is an order,” he concluded.

I faced them both—and the rest of the Council. Neither Amphimachus nor Pai showed any inclination to take my side in the matter. Then I sighed: “Yes, m’Lords.”

“Good,” Sheren Maoch noted.

“But do my men—does Captain Jaita—do they have to apologize as well?” I asked; and I was willing to put up a fight over that!

“No,” Zaggi put in quickly. “Only you, and in private—in fact, only in writing; not face to face. We don’t want the increased amount of gossip that would flow from a public exchange of apologies. So…you may tell your men
informally
that apologies have been made; but make sure it’s informal, and emphasize the
exchange
part. There’ll be no juvenile crowing about getting away with a breach of discipline. Warati will tell his men something like that, as well. Do you understand what you must do, now?”