by Fiona Tarr
'What do you want here? You have no business here! Walk on!’ snarled a tall Philistine soldier with a cut to his cheek, that was dripping blood onto his armour. The tip of the woman’s sword was spotted with blood; she was obviously experienced in the weapon’s use, easily fending off the well-practiced warriors.
'No need to be so unfriendly. I was just wondering if I might join you for a bit of sport. I am happy to wait my turn of course, but I would not want an opportunity like this to be missed. I am sure you understand, being soldiers yourself, it has been a while.'
'You will not get a chance, any of you.’ The woman growled through clenched teeth; her eyes cutting through Martinez, exposing his soul. ‘It you come any closer I will gut you like a wild pig!'
Martinez continued with his flippant conversation as he moved between the woman and the two men.
'We do not need to share our spoils with Israeli dung! We will do as we want to with the woman and you can either die standing there or move on.’ The second Philistine soldier had joined the fray, advancing on Martinez.
David sat watching the scene unfold before him. He had brought his new bow with him, though he was not entirely sure that he was skilled enough to use it effectively. At the very least he could create a distraction to give Martinez time to handle both assailants. He notched an arrow and raised it towards the soldier who was the furthest distance from where Martinez had now placed himself.
'If you decide you are not willing to share her, well I will just have to take her for myself!' said Martinez. As he spoke he stepped forward in a fluid motion taking the closest soldier in the throat with his sword before anyone even realised he had released it from its scabbard. It was a brave move for if the woman behind Martinez had not been so stunned, she may very well have used her own sword in his back before he could turn to reassure her.
'I mean you no harm. Be still!’ he now breathed.
As Martinez had made toward the other soldier, David had loosed his shaft on the second taking the surprised man mid-chest. The woman stepped back away from the carnage, distancing herself from Martinez. He did not make any move towards her; instead he crouched down next to the first dead soldier. He stared into his open, lifeless eyes and looked at the blood on his neck wound as it slowed its flow and began to congeal. He gently closed the warrior’s eyes and paused there, composing himself, praying for the souls of the dead.
He never liked taking life, but sometimes it was necessary. Martinez believed his God cherished all life, even Philistine soldiers. All men were created by God and if God chose to end their life on this earth early by Martinez’s sword, then so be it. Even so, the loss always weighed heavily on Martinez, leaving him with the distinct feeling there must be a better way. A hopeless romantic, he scolded himself as he turned to face the woman who had sat with her back against a tall tree at the edge of the clearing, her sword still drawn, and her look suspicious. David made his way towards them once he was sure there was no further threat lurking in the bushes.
'They must have been deserters,' he mentioned to no one in particular. Martinez nodded agreement without taking his eyes off the woman.
'I am sorry if I alarmed you, I needed to get close enough to strike and if my words offended you I apologise,' Martinez bowed his head slightly as he spoke.
The woman regarded him with her eyes, remaining still for a few moments then she began to replace some of her torn clothing. 'Your apology is accepted and thankyou for your help; although I believe in time I would have killed them both. They were underfed and not very battle fit.'
'Where does a woman gain the training to defend herself and the confidence to travel hostile territory alone?' Martinez asked.
'My past is of little concern to you. Just be warned I have been a woman in a man’s world for long enough to know how to look after myself.' With that the woman began to walk from the clearing.
'We can take you with us to the next settlement,' David blurted, the words had been out of his mouth before he could stop himself. He was met with a steel gaze from Martinez. There was more to this woman than could be seen on the surface and David planned to find out what it was.
'Thank you young man, but I am sure our paths will cross again. However I have much to do and no need to be a burden to you and your companions. I am sure you have important work to finish.' With that she was gone into the undergrowth. A woman of magic perhaps? David stood watching the space she had occupied wondering to himself if he had really seen her at all.
'This journey is throwing up too many strange surprises for my liking.' Martinez grumbled as he stalked back towards Jonathan.
'Good shooting.' He grunted as he strode past David leaving him jogging behind in order to keep up. He thought now was probably not the best time to tell the General that he had been aiming for the man’s head.
Martinez was in no mood to talk and Jonathan raised an eyebrow as they moved past. David shrugged. He really did not understand the mood. He pondered the matter and wondered about the polite, but distant way Martinez had greeted the woman. David thought himself ill at ease with women, yet observing Martinez’s discomfort was a surprise.
Francesca remained still in the bushes until the two men had moved away from the clearing, making sure they would not follow her. She then stood and walked in the opposite direction heading to the Israeli fighting front the men had originally come from. Her journey was going to be tiring and she needed to make good time in order to reach the King before he returned to the sorceress Jezebel. Much depended on it. She wondered when life had become so stressful. Why did she seek to control everything? She fought the urge constantly; she knew God was holy and all-knowing and powerful, that He planned everything before time began. Yet still she could not let this alone. Her life and what she had been through held her back from fully letting go to faith. Her battle with it was a constant struggle. She shook her head in frustration and decided it was a thought for another time when life was less frantic. Pacing herself, she began a long gentle lopping run.
****
The King sat in his makeshift tent, his thoughts wandering. Only another night’s sleep until he could feel the soft skin of Jezebel against his once more. Oh how he longed for her, the feeling within him threatened to swamp him pulling him down into darkness. The image of her before him was compelling, consuming. He could think of nothing else. His heart ached, his mind numb, his body craving her. All thoughts of war escaped him. Nothing was more important than Jezebel and his need for her. His thoughts were broken as a guard moved into his tent, bowing deeply. 'My apologies Sir, we have a lady here to visit you. Lady Francesca has travelled many miles to speak with you.' Explained Bartholomew.
Saul thought for a moment then indicated with the nod of his head to allow her in. He had no idea who she was, but if she had travelled so far, maybe she would be willing to satisfy his craving temporarily. The guard seemed almost relieved that the King had agreed to see her, a most unnerving woman. Who was this woman, he thought, to unsettle his guards in this way? Chances of a warm companion able encounter were fading. Francesca strode into the tent with authority bowing slightly in respect and introduced herself to the King.
'I am here my Lord to convey an important message from the prophet Samuel. The boy David must be allowed to fight for the honour of Israel. Many may try and persuade you otherwise; however, Samuel has heard the Lord’s word on this. David must fight the giant.'
'Idle chatter is obviously not your style, unusual for a woman.' The little humour in Saul’s eyes suddenly disappeared and was replaced with a steel look which Francesca thought might cut through her. She realised then that her need to see her work done and her journey over had once again placed her in an awkward situation. When would she learn some tact and diplomacy? The whole concept eluded her. Why people danced around each other was beyond her, why did they not simply get straight to the point?
'Who are you to convey the message of Samuel and the Lord our God?' demanded the King. 'Sa
muel says God has forsaken me, so why should I comply with his wishes?'
‘Because this is not about you my King, it is about God’s wishes, His demand on you and His plan for humanity as it always has been. It has never been about your human needs or wants. You do not always get what you want, even if you are the King of Israel. I was told you were a man of wisdom, is this not true?' taunted Francesca.
'What is this? You are not even of Israeli heritage! Why do the prophets confide in you? You are only a woman, and not of our culture! What would you know of the Israeli God of whom you speak?'
‘Last time I checked, God was not particular about the cultural background of those who served him faithfully. Faithful service without personal agenda is far more important than any blood heritage or inheritance. What would I know, as you say, I am only a foreign woman? Heed my words or do not, the choice is yours as it has always been. However, I have travelled far; do you honestly think I would do this for the love of it, or to willingly endure your narrow minded criticisms?' She was in the moment now, angry and out of control. 'God always has His way, whether we cooperate or not. If you do not listen, then another will in another time maybe. Time has no meaning to our Lord God.'
Saul studied the woman’s face, noting her deep brown eyes, dark long curls, smooth olive skin and the line of her long legs in the tall thigh length riding boots. Even with the stern look on her face, she was a woman of beauty and reminded him of his first wife both in looks and manner.
'I will consider your words carefully. As you say, no one would consider David a choice for such a fight. I will not call him to the role, however if the Lord wishes him to fight, He will compel the boy to come forward.'
'Well enough said – a show of faith for which I am sure the Lord will bless you. May I rest here over night? I will not accompany you further. I have other matters to attend to. Many things must be put in motion to ensure success in all of this turmoil.'
Saul called a guard. 'Find quarters for our guest and place a guard outside her accommodation. Her safety is your concern. Should anything happen to her, it will be on your head.'
The guard looked painfully at the woman and Francesca knew what the King implied. Many of the men he travelled with looked on any woman in their encampment as a woman for hire. Israeli women did not take on roles of authority and never travelled unaccompanied unless they were women of ill repute. Such a God blessed nation, yet they did not utilise the enormous talent of the women in their midst. Women were relegated to mundane tasks like tending children, preparing meals and the like, something that often frustrated Francesca. As she travelled she met many women with so much potential, so many God given talents which could be far better utilised in matters of governance, restitution, tending the sick, poor and lonely. It was a problem to which she could see no resolution.
Francesca bowed graciously to the King and left the tent, following the guard to her place of rest. Now it was time for some prayer and meditation to rejuvenate her spirit for the next matter that demanded her attention. This was one thing she was not looking forward to. Going against Jezebel in the spirit realm was not something to be considered lightly. Her power was of dark magic and very formidable. Francesca knew she served the one true God, yet fully understood sacrifices would be made. She just prayed she would not be one of them. She would ask for strength and courage, most of all, faith of heart, so that she could succeed in distracting Jezebel long enough for David to do what needed to be done. She suddenly laughed to herself. You just finished telling Saul he was of little importance in the greater scheme of things. That God would conquer with or without him. What makes you think you are any different? God was faithful and trustworthy. Jezebel would be no trouble for the power of God. All would be as God ordained according to His Will. Humility! She scolded herself. Why did she find it so difficult?
Francesca was tired, she had long since forgotten to stop and take the time to enjoy her journey. She was always in a hurry as she was today, getting straight to the point and offending people. Why this bothered her she could not be sure. There was no time to waste in the matters of her work, yet she longed for more, not really knowing what that was. She had no doubt serving the greater good was her calling, however why did she struggle to find joy in it? Now was not the time. Now, it was time to rest, she thought as she lay down on the makeshift bed, her pack at her side. Sleep did not come quickly and when it did, her dreams were troubled.
****
Martinez’s mood had not lightened. David and Jonathan had given him plenty of space as they made their way further into hostile lands. Now in the silence of travelling, Martinez allowed himself to think on the events of the past few days. He could sense that he was on the precipice of major change, yet was not sure whether this was for him personally or for others. He did not like change. The woman had raised feelings in him which he had long ago suppressed. This disturbed him. He had thrown himself into his work many years ago to avoid dealing with the pain of losing the love of his life to another. Today as he had stared into the brown eyes of this stranger he had almost lost himself there. No time for such thoughts, he would need to concentrate on training David and finishing his mission instead of his own needs. His personal desires might otherwise consume him.
Martinez thought for a moment, distracting his mind. What was left to show young David? He had learnt to hunt, to use a bow. He had proven this successful when he had loosed the shaft which struck the second deserter in the clearing. The shot had been a good one, taking the man deep in the chest. Although it was not a headshot, therefore David was obviously not confident to aim at a smaller target. Something Martinez would work on with him. He was a quick study and seemed apt in the skills of tracking from his time as a shepherd. There was not much more Martinez was able to impart which David had not already picked up himself. All that was left was swordcraft, something which most young Israeli men would not have a chance to learn proficiently. Israel had no real history of good swordsmanship. Martinez however had acquired his skills over his many years serving as a mercenary commander in different lands. This was why the King had requested he train the boy. It would make all the difference to his survival in the future. His use of the spear was without doubt very skilled, however there would be times when the sword would be a far more effective weapon.
'Time for some sword form training David. We can rest a while, eat a meal and take some time to practice while Jonathan scouts ahead.' Jonathan nodded. The men dismounted and made camp. After they had settled, Jonathan made his way forward into the undergrowth and disappeared from sight quickly, something which still mystified David. Martinez stretched and began a series of exercises which David watched intently.
'Why do you dance around before doing your sword training?' asked David curiously.
'This is my sword training. Much of the art of sword work is based in balance and coordination, rather than the actual thrusting of the sword. I learnt many of my skills through meditation, supple stretching exercises and sword forms without a sword in hand, long before I ever took up the weapon. The ancients of civilizations to the Far East have been using the sword for thousands of years. Most Israeli warriors have little or no training in this weapon. Like you they prefer to use a spear or throwing stone and usually for hunting rather than any form of defence or attack. When I trained as a mercenary, I learnt many new methods of warfare. The sword is by far my weapon of choice.'
David watched with renewed interest. Every move of the hand, every step and balance of the foot became entrancing. David realised, as Martinez practised, that there were patterns in the movements. With every step Martinez traced a square pattern on the ground, forward two steps, right turn, right knife hand, left knife hand then right again halting in an extended lunge of the legs, then turning in the opposite direction in one smooth transition. It was all mesmerising. David watched for so long he was unaware of time passing. Martinez stopped with sweat now dripping from his upper body from which he had long shed arm
our or clothing.
'Your turn now. Strip off your tunic. As you wear no riding pants I will lend you a tunic suited to training. You need to practise with plenty of room to move so you are not restricted in your ability to extend your body into each form. I will show you.'
David quickly changed into the clothing Martinez offered him. It was too large, however its ample roominess further enhanced the ability to move unrestricted. His body could move more freely without the usual belt on his tunic. The movement of his upper body no longer dictated the movement of his waist and legs.
'I have never done anything like this.' David hesitated.
'Simply follow me and you will learn. Small mistakes are expected; do not be hard on yourself.'
Martinez took a position in front of David. He stood still until David relaxed into position behind him. Martinez rolled his neck forward and then stretched it from side to side. David followed, wondering what this technique was all about.
'These exercises stretch your muscles to ensure they are warmed up before you start your practice. This avoids injury and makes you able to perform the manoeuvres more effectively.' Martinez spoke as if he had read David’s mind.
David wondered what happened in a battle when you had not had time to warm up, however he decided not to ask right now. They began moving around the small clearing. First lunging forward with large steps and punching an imaginary wall with each step forward; then they stopped, spun on one foot and moved to the right, stopping on the spot, lifting one foot from the ground and balancing like a statue, then pivoting on the one foot, lunging and lashing out with a knife hand all in one smooth motion.
These exercises went on for some time until David was sweating and his muscles were beginning to fatigue. He had practised kicking his leg high, balancing with one leg in the air extended to the side for the count of ten, rotating on one leg, two legs, hands high, hands low, running and kicking, spinning from one direction to another on the spot. David was exhausted and invigorated all at the same time, yet he still had no idea what all of this had to do with sword fighting. Now as Martinez called a halt to the drills he asked between panted breaths.
