The Philistine Warrior (24 page)
“Sire, you’ve turned our so-called strategy inside out and upside down,” I laughed, “reversing our priorities! We’ve pitted our strongest forces, those of Askelon and
Gath
, against our weakest enemies, the Judaeans, thus risking the total collapse of Ekron and all
that—well, all that you’ve explained…all that her collapse could mean on a world-wide basis! I’m with you all the way, Sire!”
“Of course, my strategy requires a maximum of unity, a willingness to let the Judaeans continue their raids for a while, so we can all fight the Danites. It means rapid moves, lest we overtax the patience of the Philistine landlords and their loyal peasants—the ones who are suffering from Judaean raiding, I mean.”
Thus in only one day, the Prince had seen—quite clearly—what our confused and greedy landlords…and sherens…had failed to comprehend, after almost a year of war and rebellion.
In this way, I had a preview of what Prince Ekosh would tell the Philistine nobility the next day in Gath, after his formal elevation to the office of Melek: “Philistines!” he exclaimed from his balcony in
Gath
, “if we draw back, if we remain divided, if we hesitate, our nation could be destroyed. Will you follow me forward as one nation?” A roar of approval came up from the crowd. “Ekron’s truce with the Danites is to end! I shall lead the Army north, for it is there from which all the rebellions take nourishment.” As if by magic, our new King now united his Philistines for a great, but carefully conceived, crusade.
Gath
had a tradition of leading
Philistia
, and he’d played upon that fact. It would be harder to convince
Ashdod
and
Gaza
, perhaps, but his dynastic connection with
Gath
and Askelon would help. With momentum from
Gath
and Askelon, he might, indeed, carry all
Philistia
with him, even Ekron.
Such was the power of his personality, that our factious nobles did not resent his authoritarian demeanor. They did not, for example, take offense at the unheard of notion that a Melek could, by his own order alone, cancel out a truce negotiated by a sovereign Philistine city—Ekron. Nor did they fear—in fact they welcomed—the coming of a Melek so powerful that he could, and would, lead the national army in person.
And it would be
his
army. There would be no nominal command, no councils of war to pass on his projects. In his long service in
Egypt
, King Ekosh had become accustomed to absolute power over his men; and now he would wield that power as a proven general, a rough-hewed, armored, warrior-king. He would not, as my Uncle Zaggi preferred, trap himself out in finery and surround himself
with Egyptian—or even Philistine—etiquette; nor would he be separated from his soldiers by mincing courtiers. Instead, he was now His “Majesty” the Melek (King) of
Philistia
, rather than simply “His Grace,” which is how Nasuy had styled himself. Ekosh would be a real king and warlord, worthy of the dynasty of Nomion!
Thus far I was in total agreement with the Melek. In private, however, he told me his ideas on domestic matters, and there I felt called upon to express some mild reservations. For example, he once said something like this to me:
“Phicol, how would your troopers feel about this: after the war, the Army won’t be dispersed; it won’t dissolve into the city contingents from which it was raised. We’ll keep it permanently mobilized—on a smaller scale, of course—and permanently under the control of the Melek, leaving only the militia for the cities to manage.”
I was a bit startled by this. I knew that Ekosh wasn’t hungry for power for himself—he’d go back to
Egypt
if he could; and besides, he was a bit old for unhealthy ambition. But his idea might lead to a monster of a central government, dangerous to our liberties. What if, for example, Zaggi were someday to become Melek?
So I replied: “
Sire
,
Egypt
is the kind of kingdom—the kind of people—who need a strong central government, permanently; but it would take our Philistines a long time to get used to such a thing….”
“On the other hand,” he said, his eyes closed, thinking aloud, “if in wartime our people are now—or soon—fused into one, true nation, rather than an alliance of cities…will we want to see such unity dissipate?”
“But there are the sherens to think about. They won’t like to see the military—or a substantial part of it—removed from their control, will they, Sire?”
“I’m not unwilling to see the sherens’ power reduced,” Ekosh countered. “We may even want to make the melekship strictly inherited, at least among adult males of the dynasty, rather than
elective. We might even want to build a new capital city—an entirely new city—as the residence of the Melek, to emphasize our new unity…and to prevent any of the present cities from becoming jealous of the national seat, as they would if Gath remained the capital of a more powerful monarchy. That’s one reason I’m leaving Delai in Askelon—because I don’t want myself to be entirely identified with
Gath
. The Melek should not be the
same
as the Sheren of Gath, but should be separate and, obviously, above him.”
Ekosh knew that our nobles—and our cities—had forfeited a lot of respect by their irrational and uncoordinated behavior recently.
But I feared the power of true monarchy in the hands of anyone but Ekosh, and I said as much: “Sire, your ideas sound good,” I ventured, cautiously, “but the traditional liberties of the cities and the sherens—and of the nobility—should be preserved in matters not directly pertaining to the national army you’ve proposed, don’t you agree? After all, the point of fighting the enemy is to preserve our freedom…not just as a tribe, but as freedom-loving aristocrats….”
“I can see that argument,” he conceded. But I could see that he wasn’t convinced.
“And,” I added, even more cautiously, “we don’t want to start debates over a new constitution at a time like this. Sire, I—well, I don’t know exactly how to put this…but there might be some among us who would accuse you, unjustly, of personal, dictatorial ambitions….”
He was startled by that, because he wasn’t yet fully aware of the bitter party feuds which Zaggi’s ambitions had caused. “Phicol, I pledge to you that I have no personal ambitions here. If it will help to get agreement on my reforms, I’ll offer to retire from the melekship after the war. All I want, really, is to return to
Egypt
—or to retire from public service altogether. I’ll even offer to renounce the throne on behalf of my baby son, Akashou.”
“You’re an extraordinary man, Sire, to offer such a sacrifice of your hopes for your son.” I thought of Ibbi’s prophecy that Delai’s child must rule some day, but I didn’t mention it. Instead, I made this comment: “The truth is, Sire, that, if you say you won’t remain in office…well, that will make it even harder to get your reforms
enacted, since your offer to retire will result in uncertainty—about who will wield the powers you propose….”
“I understand that; but maybe it’s better than giving the impression that I want to become a tyrant, no matter what I say….’
“Oh, I believe most of our nobility will trust
you
with such power; but who would be your successor? Maoch? No one wants
Zaggi
that close to the throne—even if he himself were not a candidate!”
“I see,” he replied, and then he thought for a moment. “I believe, Phicol, that the melekship should be hereditary—as I’ve
said—but the throne can go to Nasuy’s grandson, who has an equal or betterblood claim than Akashou—who will have small right to the throne if I retire in favor of a regency for Nasuy’s grandson.”
“A regency might be weak in a time of crisis,” I countered.
“Yes, we’ll have to think about that,” he conceded.
And that was the gist of our conversation. Despite his assurances, the political implications of it all still worried me. I had absolute confidence in Ekosh, of course, but I feared as a permanent constitution what I longed for as the answer to our wartime emergency, as I’ve already indicated. Didn’t he remember what happened in Egypt when weak men got the throne by inheritance? But I didn’t care to contend further with His Majesty; I merely said, again, that such issues should not be brought up during the present war.
“I shall accept your advice on that matter, Phicol,” he offered, as he concluded our talk.
We could not have known at that time how futile our entire discussion had been; we could not have guessed how terribly soon the inexplicable will of the gods would make a mockery of all such merely human plans. Or is it the gods? Can FATE, even when deified in our rituals, really be a “god” in the usual sense? I still do not know the answers to such questions.
Shortly after that interview, King Ekosh took me, the rest of his staff, and my squadron of charioteers on a tour of
Philistia
to raise troops and supplies for the great army of the future. Then he left a hand-picked corps of colonels to organize and train his new regiments, while we ourselves headed for Ekron. We took with us only my squadron—now overstrength—and some reliable infantry, as we set out on our spoiling attack, the campaign which the King had described to me on our first day out of Askelon. He’d calculated correctly that no foreign power would intervene until the results of his new leadership could be assessed; and he’d also guessed correctly that Ekron would be safe for the time being, because the Danites, too, would act with caution in the face of the unknown—that is, King
Ekosh himself, and his intentions. Not to mention in the face of an oversized squadron of chariots!
All along our route, we met with success—more than we’d dared dream of—and soon we came near to Ekron itself. We had negotiated with Sheren Ittai all the while by courier, and now we put heavy pressure on him until he agreed (secretly) to break that damnable truce with the Danites, though he would wait until my squadron reached Ekron.
Actually, though I hate to admit it, Ittai’s truce with Dan had been a blessing in disguise: since the enemy, surprisingly and much to their ultimate disadvantage, had not violated the truce by attempting to seize Ekron, we’d gained enough time to come to her rescue. It was too late now for a Danite
coup de
main
in the matter of Ekron.
Meantime, with our approval, Ittai continued to conduct sham negotiations with the Danites as a cover for his talks with us. He told the Danites that he wanted to maintain the truce…but they must not threaten him, or bully Ekron, or else he wouldn’t be able to convince King Ekosh (not to mention the “hotheads” among his own nobility) that the truce should be preserved. His story, in other words—and it was almost true—was that Ekosh was trying to intimidate him, yet he (Ittai) could resist the King’s pressure to end the truce…but only if he (Ittai) could show Ekosh, and his own people, that the truce was to everyone’s advantage, and presented no danger to Philistines far to the south of Ekron.
The Danites, for their part, seemed inclined to consolidate their hold on the plains around Ekron—building fortified camps and the like—rather than waste time and effort trying to seize Ekron, We were indeed lucky that they’d decided on that policy.
It was a tricky game, and I must say that Ittai, while no general, was very clever at such double-dealing! Indeed, I sometimes wondered if Sheren Ittail might not be lying to us—and telling the Danites what he
really
believed: that the truce was, indeed, the best solution for him and Ekron. Of course, in the long run, it made no difference to us what Ittai’s secret game (if there was one) might be—so long as the results were the same. And Ekosh kept his eye on Ittai, through the use of trusted messengers—that is, spies—demonstrating that he, too, was a great diplomat, though also a great general.
What a future our people will have with Ekosh at the helm, I told myself….if only…but…we can’t live forever on “if onlys.”
Not far from Ekron, we came upon the town of
Azekah
, where there was a Canaanite rebellion taking place against the native Philistines. Apparently the uprising was too formidable for Ekron to put down—and even trying to do so would have amounted to a violation of the truce with Dan. On the other hand, this rebellion was something the Danites could not control, either; not and watch Ekron at the same time, along with building strong points in the plains for themselves.
However, my squadron and its companion infantry soon overawed the Azekahites—except those of their young men who had already fled to the hills, sheltering there with the Danites in their heights. As for the Danites: they more or less welcomed these Canaanite refugee-rebels, while we occupied the town itself. The remaining locals appeared quite sullen. Ekron, of course, went through the motions of protesting my squadron’s presence in Azekah—as a violation of the truce!
Finally, after a couple weeks of this kind of fun and games, the Danites realized that their prestige was at stake. They could not sit back and watch Azekah suffer our “oppression,” nor could they (the Danites) resist the pleas of those refugee Azakahites who now dwelt among them, pleas for the “liberation” of Azakah from its Philistine
“oppressors.” So the Danites denounced their truce with Ekron—relieving Ittai of that chore—and prepared to attack his city, Ekron itself. And doubtless then move on to “rescue” Azekah! Or would they strike at Azekah first, then Ekron?
Ekosh had expected such developments, and welcomed them. Now it was no longer necessary to “intimidate” Ekron; Sheren Ittai no longer had an excuse to delay openly siding with us. Moreover, Ekosh had also predicted—and he was, once again, correct—that the Danites would gain nothing by denouncing the truce. Instead, they now had to stretch their resources to besiege Ekron, lest the Ekronites sally out upon the Danite rear…which otherwise (that is, if they did
not
besiege Ekron) would be vulnerable because, at the same time, they (the Danites) were obliged to beef up their front facing us. With our powerful chariot force in the field nearby, the enemy could not possibly muster up enough strength to storm the walls of Ekron, and their siege would take a long time to succeed, if it ever could; in the meantime, we hovered close by, gathering more strength from Gath, Askelon, Ashdod, and Gaza.
Everything was going as planned. Then, suddenly, horribly, a catastrophy struck, an incredible blow.
We were still primarily camped in Azekah when King Ekosh assembled the native Philistines of the area for a giant meeting, there in the town bazaar. Nobles, merchants, soldier-farmers, all came together to hear the King’s orders and voice their concerns. A short way off, beyond our ring of guards, the local Canaanites—Azekahites—stood, watching as His Majesty addressed the Philistines. Then, a number of Canaanites approached us, and a commotion began; they seemed to be fighting among themselves, or with the first Philistine civilians they came across.
It was a minor brawl, but it drew more Canaanites into the fray, and Ekosh became annoyed. In
Egypt
, he’d gotten accustomed to the idea that commoners must bow in his presence—until their faces touched the ground. Now, he didn’t expect that kind of subservience from any Philistine, not even from commoners; he didn’t even expect it of Canaanites—but he deeply resented any sign of disrespect from the latter.
So, accompanied by his staff, the Melek then marched straight up to the Canaanite crowd, expecting to quell the disturbance with a glance. They shrank back. Like a ship’s prow, he separated them—but, like the waters, they started to close around him as he moved forward. When I saw what was happening, I ordered the Melek’s guards to form a wedge and follow him.
I stood about ten feet away from His Majesty when a giant Canaanite appeared out of the crowd—actually, a Danite by his looks, bearded and fierce.
Melek Ekosh turned upon him: “Are you their elder?” he barked. “Come here!”
“I am their
Judge
,” the man shouted back. “I am SAMSON!” And with that, he drew a dagger from under his robe and ran it into Ekosh, up to the hilt! We all, Canaanite and Philistine alike—remained frozen to the spot in horror. Even this Danite “Judge” seemed rooted to his place, as Ekosh stood before him, slowly dying. His Majesty’s face showed little sign of amazement; he didn’t even reach for his sword. Instead, his eyes took on that look of resignation to death in war, which all warriors expect, and even desire—the death of a soldier; and he sank to the ground.
At that moment, his assassin, this treacherous monster, darted back into the crowd. That set everybody in motion. The Canaanite mob tried to follow the cowardly flight of their “Judge,” but our Melek’s officers and guards flew into a rage—that kind of rage which is born of hopelessness, of impotence in the face of something unspeakably horrible…but which cannot be undone. Despite our small numbers, the fury of our attack caused the mob to disperse in panic.
Philistine swords flashed and cut down every Canaanite we could reach—men, women, even children, fell in spurting blood as we hacked at the crowd!
For my part, I fought my way to the Melek’s side. By then he lay stretched on the ground, in great pain.
“We’ll raze the town,” I cried in violent resolve, my teeth clenched. “We’ll kill them all!”
But Ekosh had already slipped so near to death that revenge—and even his country—now passed from his mind. His work done; he waited calmly for Master Death; only the most essential thing needed saying: “Phicol…look after Delai and the child….”
