by Brian Godawa
It would take some time for his organic tissue to reconnect, including his voice box. But Mikael could not wait for that healing. His hand wrote out on the sandy floor, “Ashkelon.”
Chapter 56
Ashkelon was the Philistine port city on the coast eighteen miles west-southwest from Gath. The gods Dagon, Asherah, Ba’alzebul and Molech arrived there early afternoon the next day. They knew the time was short before the archangels would find them.
Ashkelon was the oldest and largest seaport in Canaan. As one of the cities of the Philistine pentapolis, it supported a thriving import and export maritime trade. Its populace, about fifteen thousand people, lived on one hundred and fifty acres, surrounded by a mile and a half of brick wall fifty feet high and fifteen feet thick.
It was built on a large sandstone outcropping and included a large port. A long, manmade jetty about fifty feet wide and several hundred feet long functioned as a breakwater and housed a sea temple of Dagon on its outer edge. Departing and arriving ships could look upon the large, open-air rotunda encompassed by a ring of pillars and say their prayers to Dagon for protection on the seas or thanks for deliverance from the waves.
Inside that temple area, the four gods engaged in a sorcery ritual led by Asherah. She stood completely naked on the carcass of a lion and held two strangled ibexes, one in each hand. She wore large wings made of vulture’s feathers on her back and a gem-laden horned headdress of deity. She was enacting her identity as “lord of the animals.”
Dagon and Ba’alzebul moved to get a better look at her naked genitalia. They dreamed of pulling off another gang rape of her. Molech was unconcerned. He cared nothing for mature flesh.
Asherah writhed and spoke forth incantations facing the sea that stretched out before her.
Behind her stood a five foot high golden “tree of life” that was an iconic metal casting of a trunk with eight branches, four on each side.
Dagon wore his fishy lower part for the ceremony. He achieved this by cutting the body of a large dolphin in half and sewing the tail over his legs. It was cumbersome and he wished he had never adopted the persona.
It had been a week since their narrow escape from the archangels at Gath, and it was time for their plan to unfold.
The gods were on the cusp of completing their ritual when the archangels hit them.
They had swum across the wharf area and slipped up the rocks to assault the gods from behind.
All seven burst in through the pillared open-air sanctuary, swords flashing.
The gods drew their weapons.
Dagon stuck his sword into his lower fishy half and cut it off with a swipe. He would not be hampered in battle.
Everyone paused for a moment. The four gods stood facing off against the seven archangels, each waiting for the other to make a move.
The mightiest of Yahweh’s heavenly host were here to bind the Watcher gods who would be fighting for their eternities. This was going to be brutal.
An earthquake rattled the foundation of the temple. Everyone had to catch their balance. Dust and debris fell from the cracks in the stone above their heads.
Asherah and the gods smiled.
The archangels realized it had been no earthquake. That was an announcement of the arrival of something. Something very huge.
Something from the depths of the sea.
The water behind the gods suddenly exploded upward with the form of the seven headed sea dragon of chaos: Leviathan. It burst out of the water and leapt over the manmade jetty that housed the temple.
Mikael, now healed, joined his fellow archangels for the fight. He saw the huge four hundred foot long serpentine body fly past them through the air. It landed on the wharf side with a huge splash that drenched everyone in the temple. Its double tail followed, with a swipe at the architecture.
It smashed half the structure, wiping it into the water with the force. Gods and angels fell beneath the debris of the other half collapsing on top of them.
When the dust settled, pieces of stone began to move as the warriors of both sides pulled themselves out from under the ruins. Two of the angels, Remiel and Saraqael, had been pinned beneath too many tons of rocks to free themselves. It made the numbers more equal than they had anticipated. One of the gods, Asherah, had been swept into the water by the tidal wave of force that washed over them. Dagon was on the shoreline, picking himself up, bruised and battered, but in one piece.
Uriel and Gabriel, always synchronized with each other, immediately picked up their weapons and leapt down to the water’s edge to engage Dagon.
Six heads erupted from the water with fangs flashing and mouths roaring. On the neck of one of them was Asherah, riding it like a steed. She pointed down at the approaching form of Mikael. The monster focused on the angel as a target. The sound of gurgling from deep within its bowels warned Mikael. He had been caught by this attack before, at the beach of Mount Sapan. He was not going to let it happen again. He dove behind a huge boulder as a stream of fire poured out from the dragon head and blackened the entire area of stone.
Another head reached down and Dagon leapt onto it, pulled away before Uriel and Gabriel could reach him.
Ba’alzebul and Molech dashed headlong at the seven heads. Ba’alzebul’s muscular form launched an amazing thirty feet to catch one of the gaping jaws as it swung past the rocks of the beach. Molech was not so glorious. He could only make a good twenty feet. It was not enough to reach his target. He landed in the water in a belly flop.
Uriel and Gabriel could not help but look at each other, smirking.
One of the dragon heads reached down and picked Molech out of the water with its teeth and placed him on the back of another neck.
The head that Ba’alzebul had caught had a sword stuck in the roof of its mouth, the hilt sticking out of its head. It was Gabriel’s sword, from their confrontation at Sapan generations earlier. Ba’alzebul pulled it from the creature’s mouth and swung around to mount its neck. He raised the sword high in victory, as all seven heads plunged back into the deep, carrying its four riders away from the grasp of the angels.
Mikael stepped down to the shoreline to stand by Uriel and Gabriel as Raphael and Raguel helped the trapped angels get free from the rocks.
They looked out onto the frothing, swirling waters left behind by the exit of the gargantuan and its riders. There was no way the archangels could ever chase that chaos monster.
“You have to hand it to that Asherah,” said Uriel. “She is one goddess with chutzpah, taking her chances with enchanting Leviathan.”
Gabriel added, “And I thought Ashtart was gutsy.”
“Ashtart cut your gut in half back at Mount Hermon,” said Uriel wryly. “If I had not found your legs in the waters of the Abyss you would have been a paraplegic until the Resurrection.”
Gabriel countered, “And I believe it was my trumpet call that saved your rear end against Ashtart’s undead at the battle of Edrei.”
“A trumpet call that you said yourself you learned from my use of it with the shades of Sheol,” said Uriel.
Mikael interrupted, “Do we have to listen to your bickering until the end of days?”
The others joined them at the shoreline.
Mikael took command. “The gods are not cowards. They have escaped today, but they will return. We must be ready for them.” He looked at Uriel and Gabriel. “You two squabblers try to gather intelligence on where they went. They will be much harder to catch if they become guerilla fighters.”
Raguel said, “Mastema has left Assyria in the hands of another. I am needed there.”
“And I at Babylon,” said Remiel.
“Where did Mastema go?” asked Gabriel.
“To the Italian peninsula,” said Raguel.
“That doesn’t make any sense,” complained Uriel. “That is a backwater of small Latin villages with undeveloped agriculture. There is no earthly power for him there.”
“Maybe that is why he wants it,” said Raphael, the angel who barely spo
ke. “He can build from the bottom up, and he can engage in his nefarious purposes unmolested for centuries.”
Mikael said, “We need to focus on what is happening right now in front of us. I will return to Israel with Raphael. The Rephaim forces are building and the Sons of Rapha have not slackened their pace in hunting down the messiah king.”
Saraqael said, “I am called to Syria. That will be Israel’s next trouble, Mikael. They are amassing quite a strength up north.”
“Well then,” said Mikael, “let us call upon the name of Yahweh Elohim and ask for strength to face what is coming.”
Chapter 57
David helped Ittai cast two bronze swords in his roundhouse smithery workshop. The first step was to create a mold from stone, carved with precision using stone and metal chisels. Two halves placed together with a hole at the top to pour in the molten liquid metal. These had already been created by Ittai.
The next step was to melt down the mixture of ninety percent copper and ten percent tin in a furnace forge. David pumped the bellows to keep the fire hot enough with a steady flow of air.
“Careful,” said Ittai. “We do not want it too hot or we will spoil the strength of the final sword.”
David lessened the bellows and continued their conversation, “By getting close to the king of Gath, I believe I can learn more about the plans and thinking of the Philistines, and therefore achieve the understanding of how to conquer them in the long run.”
Ittai said, “I can help you with the mind of a Philistine. And my followers as well.”
David remarked, “But you are not King Achish, the one I need to get close to.”
“Indeed I am not,” retorted Ittai. “And I will not kill you. But King Achish will.”
With arms wrapped in leather to protect them from the heat, they pulled the white hot crucible from the coals with large tongs and carried it to the mold. The molten bronze for pouring filled it.
David tried to continue the discussion, but Ittai cut him off. “Shh!” interrupted Ittai. “The pour is crucial. We cannot spill it or allow impurities to get through. Keep your eyes out for pieces of charcoal or hardened metal.”
David watched it closely.
The expertise of a blacksmith includes his ability to recognize the right color of the molten bronze to judge when it is ready to pour. Together, they poured the liquid metal into the hole at the top of the mold.
“Now, we let it cool,” said Ittai. “And I attempt to cool you from your hotheaded folly.”
David smiled. “As I was saying, here is what you may have missed. Achish wishes to conquer Israel, correct?”
“Yes.”
“He would give anything to know the secrets of Saul’s strategy, right?”
“Right.”
“Well,” said David, “He also knows that Saul hates me and wants to kill me. That makes me Saul’s enemy. If Achish sees that we are both Saul’s enemy, he may be willing to consider me his ally against Saul.”
When the metal had cooled sufficiently, the mold was taken apart and the swords pulled out. They were then cooled by plunging them into a trough of water, which also made the metal harder and ready for action.
The hiss of the contact of the hot metal with the cool water was accompanied by a cloud of steam in David’s face.
Ittai said, “Even so, you do not have the privilege of the time you would need to explain all this strategy to him before he kills you on sight.”
“That is most likely true,” said David. He thought it over.
Ittai added, “And Achish is not the only one who seeks you. There is a far more sinister force of evil in this city that will kill you long before you could even get into the presence of the king.”
“Who?”
“They are called the Sons of Rapha. They are a military cult of Rephaim giants devoted to assassinating you. Goliath was the first, but there are five others.”
“One of my swordsman, Sibbecai the Hushathite, killed one of them.”
“So they already got close,” said Ittai. “What did he look like?”
“He wielded two scimitars,” answered David.
“That was Saph,” said Ittai. “Four is less than five, but still certain death for you,” said Ittai. He then told David about the history of the Sons of Rapha and who was in the cult and what he knew. He told him about Lahmi, the brother of Goliath and his lust for revenge. But he carefully left out his own identity and his attempt to join the guild all those years before.
Next, the edges and surface of the newly cast swords were filed down and sharpened with flint sharpening stones.
They each worked on one of the swords as they continued.
Ittai finally found the courage to ask, “David, do you believe there is the possibility of redemption for Rephaim?”
David thought for a moment. “Well, they are the result of the gods mating with human wives in the primeval ages and onward. So that would mean that they are demigods, right?”
“I suppose so,” lied Ittai. He thought “demigod” sounded like such a grand and glorious identity of power. He felt more like he was ignoble and cursed.
David said, “Well then, that makes them half human. And whatever is human, Yahweh can redeem, I suppose.”
“But the half that is divine,” countered Ittai. “What of that?”
David thought some more. “I don’t know, Ittai. But I do believe that Yahweh calls men from all nations to have faith and follow his law. So if a man—or a half man, half god—can obey Yahweh, then what of that?”
Ittai turned away to wash his blade off so that David could not see that his eyes were wet with hope he could not reveal.
Lastly, they wrapped leather around the hilts to create a good grip. Leather sheaths to carry the swords on belts were already made, waiting for the new weapons. The swords were finally ready to kill.
Ittai held up the two blades, now polished and ready. He handed them proudly to David. “You have done well, my lord. Thank you for taking interest in your lowly servant.”
“Nonsense,” said David. “You are my loyal servant.” He lifted up one of the swords and appreciated it in the light they had. “And you have given me a loyal gift by forging these two swords from the remnant of the sword of Goliath. May they be used to disembowel the rest of the Sons of Rapha as a symbol of Yahweh’s glory and power.”
Ittai thought of Lahmi and what a thing of beauty it would be to see him pierced with his own brother’s sword. But then he turned somber and whispered painfully, “I was the one who forged this metal into the original sword for Goliath.”
David looked at him with sympathy and said, “Well, I guess that proves evil can be redeemed.”
Ittai felt a surge of emotion penetrate his soul.
David added, “So the original weapon of evil will be redeemed. I will use this reforged sword against the Sons of Rapha.” David then placed his hand on Ittai’s shoulder and handed the other sword to him. “I want you to have this one. May they both be used for such a grand and glorious purpose.”
Ittai had no words to say. He took the sword and hugged it close to his chest with gratitude. Yes, may they one day be used for such a grand and glorious purpose.
David said, “I just thought of something. Remember that quandary of me not being able to come before King Achish without being immediately executed?”
“Yes.”
“Do your people still believe that madness is the holy touch of the gods? A sacred protection?”
“Yes,” said Ittai. “What exactly are you thinking?”
Chapter 58
The Gath marketplace square was full of Gittites. Every day at about this time, hundreds of farmers and craftsmen traded, stole, begged, borrowed, and gossiped in the square. Fisherman, blacksmiths, farmers, tanners, and all kinds of craftsmen engaged in their form of commerce and social gathering.
Today’s society was rudely interrupted by a madman running through the square in nothing but a loin cloth, spittl
e dribbling down his beard, hair matted in wild animal-like display, skin blackened with dirt.
It was David. Though most would never recognize him, nor understand his importance.
He ran around slapping heads and growling like a wildcat, then howling like a wolf.
He jaunted up to the dais in the middle of the square. It was a large stone platform upon which sacrifices were made unto the gods, but also upon which public executions were exacted upon the criminals of Gath. A chopping stone for heads, and a wooden gallows for necks towered above the crowd like silent monuments of justice—or more precisely, entertainment, as the Philistine culture was a violent one.
David stood upon the chopping block and announced with a screaming frenzy, “I am David ben Jesse! King of Israel! Slayer of Goliath! King Achish cannot kill me! I rule the wilderness of Azazel! Bow down and worship me, all you Gittites!”
The citizens at first hardly listened to him. He got some laughs, and some rotten vegetables hit him on the chest and head, giving him an even more unpleasant odor to help his feigned madness seem more real.
David yelled, “I puke on the idols of Dagon, Ba’alzebul, and Asherah!” He stuck a finger down his throat to stimulate his gag reflex. A stream of vomit burst out of his mouth upon the four horned altar stone. “Lord Achish is a patsy of his Lady! I am the king of Gath! Follow me, all you miserable flea-ridden Gittites! I am David ben Jesse, slayer of Goliath the Gittite! Bow before me!”
Ittai stood and watched David from one of the alleyways. He had helped coach him on how to act mad and what to say in order to get attention from the Gittites. But David had already learned much from his time with the tormented King Saul.
Ittai only hoped David would not be swarmed and lynched by an angry mob.
He looked up high at the top of a building where he saw Jonathan the Mouse poised with bow and arrow, ready to take out anyone who might try to harm David. Ittai had heard of the little man’s sharpshooting reputation. He took an interest in Jonathan because he had reminded Ittai of himself. “Mouse” was about as derogatory a nickname as “runt,” so they shared more in common than most others understood.
