by Brian Godawa
“He killed the Philistine,” countered Saul.
“Yes, but you led the forces of Israel, to slaughter the Philistines all the way back to Ekron and Gath. You led them to victory. You subdued the Ammonites, the Moabites, the Edomites, and the Amalekites. You conquered the mighty giant king Agag. You are the anointed messiah king of Israel. David is a mere servant. He is nothing. You could do whatever you wanted with him. You could kill him if you wanted to.”
Saul stood proud, listening to the counsel. His back arched, his chest puffed out, his chin rose with pride. He saw himself looking down upon the masses in contempt. Their pathetic meaningless lives, a mere support to his greatness and glory as their mighty leader.
The shadow whisked around Saul, making him dizzy. The spirit’s words enchanted his ears. “Did your seer ever tell you that he anointed the shepherd boy in his home town of Bethlehem?”
“No,” said Saul, disturbed by the news. “For what?”
“Tch, tch, tch,” mocked Nimrod. “Do you not see what is happening under your very nose, O king?”
Saul listened attentively as Nimrod continued his whispering.
“Let me tell you the story of a king who failed to realize the threat to his own kingdom and what it cost him. There once was a king who united all the peoples under heaven. He was a Mighty Hunter of men with an invincible army. He built a mighty temple-tower with its top in the heavens. It was a meeting place of gods and men, a cosmic mountain between heaven and earth. But the stars foretold of a child who would be born of humble birth, but would rise up and kill his ten thousands, slay kings and inherit the land. The king did not believe such a small and insignificant Hebrew could possibly overthrow him.”
Saul thought Nimrod was telling him a thinly veiled parable of Saul’s kingdom. He did not realize it was the story of Nimrod’s own reign and how it had been crushed by the rise of Abraham and the fall of the Tower of Babel.
“This child grew up and became a nomad. He was surrounded by magic and would prove to be the bane of the king’s existence.” For Nimrod, this bane had been Abraham of Ur. Saul saw it as David. It was of course both, because this was Nimrod’s second chance to crush the heel of the Seed of Abraham that had crushed his head so long ago.
The spirit continued, “The king should have killed the troublesome nomad, but he did not. And that chosen one eventually grew powerful and the king lost his entire realm to the nomad and was driven to madness.”
Nimrod paused to let it sink in. Then he whispered, “O king, you can stop the madness. This shepherd boy, this godlicker, will usurp your throne if you do not stop him. He will steal your greatness and bathe in the glory of your ruins. Is that what you want?”
Saul’s breathing had grown heavier. Everything Nimrod whispered filled his head with confusion. He loved David, but he knew his counselor was right. Yahweh had left Saul. And if he had anointed David, then that meant Saul was destined for madness. Saul would be lost in the mists of history and legend as the warrior king eclipsed by a simple shepherd boy. But he could not kill his devoted and loyal captain of his own bodyguard. Could he?
“Yes. Yes, we can” whispered his counselor.
Saul felt the shadow enter him again, as he had done at previous times. Saul lost all sense of himself, but felt filled with power and strength, like that of a Naphil. He felt like a god. His eyes glazed over and all he could hear was the sound of his unseen controller whispering in his ears, “Kill the usurper. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him!”
It drove Saul mad with rage. But now he felt like he was the Mighty Hunter Nimrod. He would stop the madness. He would kill David. He looked around spasmodically and found a spear. He plucked it up and left his room. He was on the hunt.
David was playing a song with Michal in the musician’s quarters when they heard the screams of female musicians.
He looked up to see Saul enter the far end of the room carrying a spear in his hand. His eyes were filled with madness and rage, the whites alone showing. He spit foam from his mouth like a rabid dog.
Michal spoke in fear, “Father?”
David stood in front of Michal.
Saul juggled the spear in his hand, preparing to throw it.
David spoke quickly to Michal, “Get out of here, now.”
Michal ran through the back entrance into the servants’ hallways.
Saul shook his head with a spasm of pain. The voice in his ear now tormented him, screaming, “Pin him to the wall! Pin him to the wall! Pin him to the wall! Pin him to the wall!”
He aimed at David and threw with the force of a giant.
David dodged to the floor. The spear stuck in the wall behind him. It sank deep. But David would not pull it out. He would not fight back against Yahweh’s anointed king.
He ran.
Saul bolted for the spear and jerked it out of the wall. He followed the scent of David through the servant hallways. His mind was a cacophony of resounding hatred. “Crush the Seed! Spill his blood! Crush the Seed! Spill his blood!”
David raced through the maze-like hallways of the palace. Saul was close on his heels, but the twisting turns did not allow him a good throw.
David broke out into the dining room of the servants. He slammed the door shut and bolted it. There were a dozen servants eating an afternoon snack at their tables, shocked by David’s loud entrance. He turned to them. “The king is mad again! Get out of here!”
They knew this scenario all too well. They immediately rushed out of the dining room, leaving David alone by the door.
He backed up.
The door shook with supernatural pounding. The hinges loosened on the wall.
David found a window at the other end of the room and stood in front of it.
The door blew open with tremendous force. Saul stepped inside the room with spear in hand. His muscles jerked and spasmed with fury. He looked like a sick puppet in the hands of an evil puppet master.
He eyed David by the window and aimed his spear. David wondered how he could see with his eyes turned up inside his head.
Saul thrust the spear.
David dodged again. He had planned for this. He anticipated that the bright sunlight behind him through the window would make it more difficult for Saul to target him. He also planned for what happened next. The spear careened right through the window where David had been and flew out into the palace yard below.
Saul had lost his weapon.
But he had not lost his rage.
He would tear David apart with his bare hands, even if just to stop the pounding pain in his head. “Strangle the Seed! Strangle the Seed! Strangle the Seed!”
David dashed out of the dining room. He wove his way through the hallways with Saul in hot pursuit again.
David was much faster than his insane pursuer. Saul’s muscles twitched with seizures that slowed him down. His rage was unthinking, beyond his strategy to murder.
David had his own stratagem. He circled back around to his original location: the music room. His only weapon against the king was his music. It was the only thing that turned the evil spirit away. Praises of Yahweh.
But he needed the time to begin to play before he was skewered or strangled.
He had gained enough time. He broke into the music room with a few moments to spare before Saul followed him.
He grabbed his lyre and began to play a song of deliverance.
I will say to the Lord, “My refuge and my fortress,
my God, in whom I trust.”
For he will deliver you from the snare of the fowler
and from the deadly pestilence.
You will not fear the terror of the night,
nor the arrow that flies by day,
nor Resheph that stalks in darkness,
nor Qeteb that wastes at noonday.
It was a song of deliverance from demons. The “terror by night” was a Mesopotamian title for Zaqar, a dream demon. Resheph was the god of plague and pestilence wh
ose arrows were his curses. Qeteb was Resheph’s companion deity of destruction.
Saul was closing the distance between them as David sang. His murderous eyes began to weaken. His jerking spasms lessened. He slowed down until he was but a few feet away from David.
He stopped when another voice joined David’s. It was Michal. She had hidden in the servants’ hallway and made her way back to the room. Her voice flowed through the air with angelic sweetness and blended with David’s in harmony.
Because you have made the Lord your dwelling place
the Most High, who is my refuge
no evil shall be allowed to befall you,
no plague come near your tent.
For he will command his angels concerning you
to guard you in all your ways.
On their hands they will bear you up,
lest you strike your foot against a stone.
You will tread on the lion and the adder;
the young lion and the serpent you will trample underfoot.
Saul had collapsed at David’s feet.
David looked up at Michal. They needed no words. They had worshipped Yahweh together and they had fought the evil spirit together. Their souls were one. She was the only woman in the whole world. He was the only man. Their lips were inexorably drawn toward each other.
They were stopped by the sound of Saul’s voice. “David? Michal?”
They pulled back and turned. Saul sat up and wiped spittle from his beard.
“I have been under the spell again,” Saul said, discouraged.
David said, “Yes, my lord. But the spirit is gone.”
Michal wondered, Did he see us? Or was he still in his dream state?
“I am so sorry. It is getting worse. I see red. Blood. And mere flashes or...” He stopped with shock. An image came to him. “Did I try to kill you?”
“Yes, my king, you did,” said David sheepishly.
“My daughter as well?”
“I was out of the way, father.”
“Thank Asherah.”
“Thank Yahweh,” corrected David.
Thank Yahweh, he did not see us about to kiss, thought Michal.
“David, you protected my daughter as you protect me,” said Saul. “Then why do you not ask me for her hand in marriage?”
Michal froze. He did see us about to kiss. What are we going to do now?
David said, “It is no little thing for your servant to become the king’s son-in-law. I am a poor man of no reputation, my lord.”
“Nonsense. You are the destroyer of Goliath the Philistine. You are a gibborim warrior, a consecrated musician and the captain of my bodyguard. But at least now I know why you turned down my offer of Merab’s hand. You are in love with Michal.”
“Yes, my sovereign. I love her with all my heart and soul.”
“And I in return,” said Michal, not willing to be left out of this discussion.
“I have never felt worthy of your family,” said David.
Saul huffed, “I will determine whether you are worthy or not. He thought for a moment, then said, “I will appoint you as a commander of thousands, and I will demand no bride price save this: one hundred Philistine foreskins for the hand of Michal in marriage.”
“One hundred Philistine foreskins?” repeated David. It was a very strange request.
Michal could not believe what she had heard.
Saul responded, “That I may be avenged of my enemies.”
David and Michal continued to stare in shock and disbelief.
“Well, daughter, hurry up and begin your planning. And you, my son-in-law, have some Philistines to kill.”
“Thank you, my lord,” said David.
Michal hugged and kissed Saul. “Daddy, thank you, thank you, thank you!”
David and Michal rushed out of the room. Saul got himself up and brushed himself off. The shadow hovered just behind him. He had left the king’s body, but he had not left the king’s side. He had whispered in his ear the entire time. He whispered in the voice of Saul’s own thoughts. Get him away from you. Get him out of here. Appoint him a commander so he will no longer curse you with that abominable music. If you cannot kill him, then allow his enemies to do so. Use your daughter’s love as a snare. Give him a bride price that will surely kill him, an impossible feat against the Philistines.
A diabolical grin spread across Saul’s face as he considered the dismal future of this pretender to his throne.
Chapter 32
Ittai snapped the reins of his donkeys to speed up his wheeled cart. He had reached the Philistine military outpost, ten miles west of Gath. It was a fort intended as an early warning for attacks on Gath. But it was the scene of a grisly mockery of that intent. A company of Israelite stealth attackers had surprised the fort and wiped out all two hundred of its soldiers. Ittai was ordered by Lord Achish to retrieve any spent weapons for refitting and reuse in the Gittite armed forces.
A crack squad of Rephaim from the Sons of Rapha, led by Ishbi and Lahmi, rushed ahead to find any survivors. There were none. When they arrived, they looked out upon the bodies of their brothers and comrades. They had been thrown in piles outside the fort. As they got close enough to the piles to see what had been done to the victims, Lahmi gagged.
“What kind of depraved savages are these Hebrews?” said Lahmi.
Ishbi stared at the atrocity. “They are the evil minions of a diabolical demon.”
“But why? Why would they castrate them all?”
The Philistine corpses all had their battle skirts removed and were all emasculated. Every last one of them.
“Do they worship the phallus? Do they — consume them?”
“No,” said Ishbi. “Their sign of kinship is circumcision. I suspect it has something to do with an assertion of their power.”
“Despicable,” said Lahmi.
Ishbi said, “Inspiration for our vengeance.”
• • • • •
Ittai had already loaded up a good portion of his cart with weapons from the fallen dead. He labored near a stand of some trees. He picked up an axe to add to the collection when he noticed a body hidden in the brush. It moved, and groaned.
Ittai yelled to the soldiers, “Survivor!”
He moved to help the soldier, but suddenly stepped back in shock. It was an Israelite warrior. The man’s arm was severely wounded and he had suffered some head trauma.
Ittai froze. He didn’t know what to do. Should he help him? But he was the enemy. An enemy who had brutalized Philistines. Yet, Ittai had lived with these people. They were not the barbarians they were made out to be by the propaganda of the governments of the Pentapolis. He knew these people.
“Ishbi! Over here!” Lahmi had arrived first, carrying a war hammer he had picked up from the remains. He glared angrily at Ittai and said, “Back off, runt. The Sons of Rapha will take it from here.”
Ittai deferentially backed away. Despite the specific venom in his hostile comrade, he was right. The military would “take care” of an Israelite survivor —that is, take it out on an Israelite survivor.
Lahmi saw the mangled arm of the Israelite. “You poor Hebrew scum. Here, let me even your pain out.” Lahmi swung the war hammer down on the Israelite’s other hand and crushed it to pieces. The warrior screamed in agonizing pain.
“Lahmi! Cease!” Ishbi had arrived to look down upon the crippled Israelite. “We need intelligence from this Hebrew, you dimwit!”
Lahmi looked like a scolded child.
Ishbi knelt down to the Israelite’s level. He talked softly, sympathetically. “You fought well. What is your name, warrior?”
“J-Joseph,” he muttered.
Lahmi set down the hammer and knelt down on the other side of Joseph, who looked at him with frightened eyes.
Ishbi said, “I need you to tell me what you know.”
Joseph whimpered. Ishbi touched his shoulder and Joseph could suddenly hear spirit voices, whispering in his ears to relax and tru
st the giant. All will be well.
Lahmi said, “Well, now that he has no use of his hands to beat off, then he will not need this any more.” He lifted Joseph’s battle skirt, pulled his dagger and put the blade to Joseph’s groin.
The warrior screamed out in fear.
Ishbi held his hand out to stop Lahmi. He said to the Israelite, “Sh-sh-sh-shhhhh. I will not let him hurt you, if you tell us what we need to know.” The spirit voices confirmed his words.
Joseph grunted in pain and looked at Ishbi ready to confess to anything and everything.
“Do you know who the giant slayer is? The one who…” He gulped, holding back his own internal pain, “who killed Goliath in the valley of the Terebinth.”
Joseph kept looking down at Lahmi’s blade with urgency. He nodded his head vigorously. “It was David—David ben Jesse.”
“David ben Jesse,” repeated Ishbi.
“Where does his family live?” said Lahmi.
“I do not know. I do not know. He lives in the palace with the king. He is captain of the guard, and he is court musician.”
“Court musician? Of what purpose is such effeminate vanity?”
“It is said when David plays the harp, it calms the spirit of madness that comes upon the king.” The spirit voices in Joseph’s ear became irritated.
In Canaan, as in other nations around them, madness was often thought of as a sacred touch of the gods upon a soul. The Sons of Rapha did not believe such drivel.
Ishbi snorted, “So, your king Saul is a mad fool. What else?”
Joseph looked again at Lahmi, who gave him a devious grin. “He led the attack on this fort.”
That surprised both of the Rephaim. Ishbi asked, “Why? Why did he mutilate the dead? Is this some kind of mockery of the uncircumcised?”
“I-I do not know. He did not say.”
“What is the purpose of your circumcision?”
“It is a sign of our covenant with our god.”
“Like the Egyptians,” mumbled Ishbi. “Was he trying to force the Philistines to covenant with your deity?”
“That could not be,” said Joseph. “Circumcision is the removal of the foreskin, it is not castration.”
