Warrior Poet

by Timothy J. Stoner

  When he lifted his trophy by the hair, the Israelites began to shout deliriously. Opposite them the Philistines were screaming with terror. From both sides of Elah came the sounds of hysteria. Saul’s troops flooded into the valley as the Philistine soldiers fled up the southern slope as quickly as their heavy armor would allow. David dropped the giant’s head and joined the pursuit, enveloped by the cries, “The Lord of the heavenly hosts is with us!”

  Around him were jubilant yells, screams of rage and pain, and roars of men in hand-to-hand combat. He was surrounded by milling, desperate, grasping warriors. Here and there, dispirited Philistines had turned to make a halfhearted stand. Two-handed, he swung Goliath’s bloody sword. The sharp blade sliced through shoulders and necks. Bodies fell, and he kept running, his pulse racing with a violent joy. As the blade did its brutal work, he knew with a clear certainty that he’d been born for this.

  And with that realization, as he thrust and parried, swung, cut, and jabbed, the words of a battle prayer began taking shape, each phrase in time with the sweep of his sword.

  Slaughter them, God, before Your people forget!

  Harry them with Your power and strike them down,

  Lord, our shield!

  Sin is in their mouths, sin on their lips,

  do let them be caught in their pride!

  Destroy them in anger,

  destroy, until they are finished,

  until You are acknowledged

  as ruler in Jacob

  to the remotest parts of the earth!51

  Yes, he had been born for this.

  By the end of the day, thousands of the enemy lay strewn on the road to Gath and Ekron, the twin pride of Philistia. When the Israelites reached those walled enclaves, they turned back to take advantage of the easy plunder from the huge Philistine encampment bordering the valley.

  As evening fell and the troops made their victorious march back to their homes in Israel, happy villagers swarmed them. Women streamed ahead, singing and dancing. There were at least thirty celebrating with tambourines, harps, and lyres. They spun and whirled joyfully in the vanguard. One of them broke out in a song that was picked up by the other women as the dancers twirled, their arms raised to heaven.

  Saul has killed his thousands,

  and David his tens of thousands.52

  At first, the words made David swell with pride. The soldiers around him laughed, pounded him on the back, and yelled for him to lift Goliath’s head again. But as the singing continued, David became increasingly uncomfortable. He wished they would stop before Saul’s royal caravan made its way to the front for its triumphal entry into Gibeah. His only hope was that the king was asleep.

  David turned to look at the covered cart festooned with flowers and draped in banners. Walking next to it were Commander Manoah and General Abner. They appeared to be in a heated conversation. He was not surprised to see Eliab at Manoah’s elbow, staring resentfully in David’s direction. Abner was thrusting his hand toward either David or the singers. Manoah grabbed a banner from a soldier who was waving it wildly. It had been stitched from two pieces of cloth into a flag with horizontal bands of light blue and white. Holding it aloft, the commander began pushing through the column of soldiers toward David.

  Manoah’s face and tunic were spattered with blood. There was a circular indentation around his sweaty crown where a helmet had been pressed down over his head. He had to shout to be heard over the yelling and singing. “I would suggest that now might be an excellent time to lead the army in a victory chant.” Manoah nodded in the direction of the women, his eyebrows lifting with clear intent. “Make it short and make it … simple. Remember, these are soldiers, not singers.” His words sounded like an uncle’s jovial advice, but they could not mask the furrows of worry over his eyes. “I would be quick about it,” he said, handing the banner to David.

  David knew what the chant would be before his cousin left his side. It was powerful and memorable and—as instructed—easy to learn. The idea came from the stories of the Canaanite conquest that had thrilled him as a child. It was a paraphrase of the words Moses shouted whenever the ark of the covenant set out ahead of the Israelites on their winding pilgrimage to the land of promise.

  Let God arise, let His enemies be scattered,

  let those who hate Him flee before Him!

  Over Israel His splendor, in the clouds His power,

  the God of Israel gives us power and strength.

  Blessed be the God of Israel!53

  The bloodied warriors standing next to him took up the chant as David raised the flag and waved it in sweeping arcs, keeping time with the triumphant words. Soon the entire army was repeating the chant in a roar that drowned out everything else.

  But it was too late.

  Later that night after the feasting and regaling had ended, his arm worn out from having to repeatedly lift Goliath’s head for the giddy soldiers, David was dragging himself to his room. Several times he had to lean against one of the pillared archways to maintain his balance. A hand grabbed him as he reached for his door latch. He stumbled, almost hitting his head on the wooden frame.

  “It’s me!” hissed Jonathan, warding off an ineffectual blow.

  David tried to clear his bleary vision. “I’m glad to hear it,” he mumbled, holding the doorjamb to steady himself. “It’s me, too,” he added with a weak grin.

  “Let’s go inside. There is something I have to tell you!” The urgency in Jonathan’s tone shot a brief current of worry through David’s numbed brain.

  “Very well, then, but stop pushing me,” he grumbled as they entered his chamber.

  Jonathan shut the door and leaned in toward David, putting both hands on his shoulders. “Listen, this is important!” he said, giving him a shake. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  David blinked and tried to give him an encouraging smile.

  “I was inside the cart with Father as the women were singing. And—as you can imagine—he was livid. The song convinced him that you have designs on the throne. He began swearing that he would never let it happen; that you had stolen the affections of the people; that he could not trust you.” David tried to defend himself, but Jonathan kept talking over him. “I know he is also furious at me because he does not think that I care about keeping the crown.” The anxiety in his face reminded David of Manoah’s expression when he handed him the banner. “He didn’t say it, but I’m sure he intends to kill you,” Jonathan concluded.

  The mist was slowly lifting, and as it did, a pain pierced him. During the months in the palace, Saul had become more like a father to him than a king. And David had begun to hope that perhaps Saul had begun to have paternal feelings for him. The king had said as much on several occasions. And David had tried to convince himself that Saul’s affection was too strong to be breached by a little ditty sung by a handful of foolish women.

  But with Jonathan’s words, something broke inside him, and a sob rose into his throat. David stumbled, and the prince had to grab him to keep him from falling. Jonathan mistook his response for the effects of the wine and lifted a jug of water. “Bend over,” he ordered, pushing David’s head over a large basin and drenching him with its contents.

  “I may need to learn the art of deception, but you will need to learn to hold your drink,” Jonathan fumed, dousing him with another jug full of water. “I’m going to have the servants bring a drink that will clear your head.” As he walked out of the room he added, “If Father calls for you tonight, take great care; you will need to have all your wits about you.”

  David had dried his face and wrung the water from his hair when the servant boy arrived. He handed David a stemmed blue glass. It was full, and through the translucent sides the liquid was the color of green-brown sludge. David closed his eyes and swallowed all of it in two huge gulps. It was vile and so spicy it made his eyes and nose
run, numbing his lips and tongue. He pushed the glass toward the servant and poured water into his mouth to quell the fire. Within moments he was so alert that even his fingernails were tingling.

  David began pacing back and forth, trying to release the energy crackling inside him. He jumped and grabbed one of the beams that transected the ceiling of his room, pulling himself up and touching his chin to the wood. He had done this fifteen times when Dishon swung the door open. The bald guard gaped as David dropped down to the floor.

  “You are needed in the king’s chambers,” he said, giving David a questioning look.

  David took a moment to catch his breath. “How is the king doing?”

  The guard stared impassively at him, then gave the briefest shrug. “The king is as he is. You shall see soon enough.” It was impossible to tell if this was a threat or a warning. Dishon spun on his heels and marched across the courtyard.

  Gripping the kinnor bag in front of him like a shield, David followed him, Jonathan’s words clanging like warning bells in his head. Too soon, he again found himself alone inside the royal bedchamber. All the lamps were extinguished; the only light was from the moon that shone through the arched window. Saul was silhouetted in front of it. David initially mistook him for a guard, for every time he’d been in this room, the king had been either sitting or reclining. David had also been initially misled by what the figure was holding: a spear. Recognizing that it was the king, David’s last fragment of hope disappeared.

  And while the presence of the spear was ominous, its position was chilling. The spearhead was resting on the tiled floor next to Saul’s right foot. As David had recently learned on the practice field, it was the best position if one anticipated a sudden throw.

  “Sit,” ordered the king.

  David lowered himself, crouching on his haunches, unwilling to lose his leverage by sitting with his legs crossed beneath him.

  Saul did not seem to notice.

  “Play me one of your gentle melodies. After the battle today, I am having a difficult time falling asleep.” The king’s words were slurred. While he may not have felled any Philistines, during the celebration that followed, the king had laid to rest many flagons of wine. He swayed, then caught himself, resting his full weight on the lethal weapon. “Make it that ‘Lord is my shepherd’ song.”

  “Yes, my king,” David responded, beginning to play the melody, which was now so familiar that the royal musicians were not only playing it themselves but modifying it into songs of their own. He transitioned into an introduction that on other occasions had proved effective in calming the king. This time, as he strummed the notes, it had the opposite effect. King Saul became more agitated and began pacing the length of the room. Each stride was punctuated with the click of a metal point striking tile.

  Oddly, whenever Saul passed the open window, he would look down at the shadow he cast on the floor and take a long, hurried stride, as if afraid to step on it. Regardless of how sweetly David played, Saul’s body remained as taut as the strings of the lyre. David was equally tense. At any moment, he expected to see a spear hurtling toward him. Unused to this awkward position, his legs were trembling with tension. He had escaped Goliath’s attack, but he doubted that at this close range he could repeat the feat. His fingers began to shake, but he kept playing. A menacing evil was seeping down onto him, leaving a tarry residue on his tongue.

  In front of the window again, the king stopped, his body turned toward David. Leaning against the corner of the room, David could now see the shaft of another spear. Its point was also resting on the tiles, and it was only an arm’s length from the king. Saul did not adjust his body but lowered his shoulder and bent his head sideways to look at the sliver of moon behind him. Twisted grotesquely, he growled, “Start singing!”

  Despite the dryness of his mouth, David obeyed, repeating the phrases he and Jahra had sung together a lifetime ago.

  “Hah! Go on. Go on—I command you!”

  David’s hands froze. The last three words had come from those infantile voices he had hoped never to hear again. Sweat broke out along his hairline. Every muscle was poised, ready for flight.

  Saul was still staring out at the sky. “Yesss! Yesss!” the childish voices hissed, sounding like coiling serpents.

  Trapped, David struggled to sing the closing stanzas.

  You prepare a table before me

  under the eyes of my enemies.54

  The king was outlined against the window, his disheveled head bowed, the point of the spear tapping softly, keeping time. David’s heart clutched. Though the king had not moved, his shadow was oozing into the shape of a hunchbacked beast. It had a small head and elongated arms, but its elongated hands held no weapon.

  David could no longer feel his legs. He forced the next-to-last stanza out of his mouth.

  You anoint my head with oil,

  my cup brims over.55

  As the lyrics hung in the air, David realized the significance of what he’d sung. “Anointed! There it is!” the voices gloated, and as they did, Saul’s head jerked up, his back straightened, and he wheeled, lifting his arm in a fluid, feline motion.

  The moment Saul released his spear, David flung himself sideways. The weapon flew past him, striking the table behind him. On wobbly legs, David teetered toward the entrance. He was pulling on the latch as the doors were pushed open from the outside. Dishon rushed in and fell as the doors gave way unexpectedly. David tripped over him and heard the sound of the second spear striking the stone wall next to his right shoulder. Without stopping to explain, he righted himself and made his escape, stumbling awkwardly across the courtyard and slamming shut the door of his chamber. To protect himself he locked the door by sliding a wooden bar through metal rings on each side of it.

  He lay on his bed, sweat pouring from him. He felt like a knife had hollowed him out. His dreams were shattered, but he was not so much angry as ashamed. Sometime near dawn he fell asleep. When he awoke, it was almost midday. Not knowing where to go, he kept the door barred and stayed in his room. In the early afternoon he heard Jonathan’s voice outside his door.

  “Open up,” the prince called. His voice was surprisingly cheerful. “I come bearing gifts.”

  David slid the bar out, and Jonathan pushed his way in. David gaped at him; the prince was dressed for war; his sword was at his side, and in his right hand he was holding his best bow. Beside him stood a servant boy carrying a platter of food and a water jug. The prince said nothing as the thin waif arranged the items on the round table. When they were alone, David picked up the jug and poured the contents directly into his mouth. He drank greedily while Jonathan leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, a wide grin on his face.

  “I wanted to come sooner, but there were certain arrangements to be made,” the prince said. “Dishon told me what happened. Believe me when I tell you that everything is fine. I spoke with Father this morning—he feels terrible, as well he should. And I can assure you, it will not happen again.” Jonathan’s eyes sparked briefly, but then the smile returned. “He is back in his right mind and wants to see you. In fact, he wants to talk to you about your upcoming marriage.”

  David stared at him in shock.

  Jonathan let out a loud laugh and grabbed an apple from the platter. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten! I thought that was your main motivation for taking on that oversized Philistine.” The grin had shifted to something more ribald.

  “Well, yes. I mean, no.” David felt his face grow warm. “I mean, yes, I did want to win the reward. After all, what an honor! But I am only a shepherd, and I have no dowry. How could I possibly marry the daughter of the king?”

  “It may be easier than you think,” Jonathan said. “It is not so hard when the mother and the daughter and the firstborn son are behind the arrangement.” He took a bite of the fruit, then tossed it out the window. “You need to see him immediatel
y. With Father, one must strike while the iron is hot, and thanks to my dear sister, it is most definitely that.”

  David’s head was spinning. He stared at Jonathan’s smiling face, then down at his leather studded chest piece and his elaborate sword belt, feeling a prickle of resentment. Events were carrying him along much too quickly. He felt like a piece of driftwood being dragged away from shore. He was being manipulated into the middle of a complex scheme he could neither understand nor control.

  “Michal insisted that she be the one to tell you the plan.” Jonathan went to the bench on which David’s clothes were folded. He threw him the yellow tunic. “Put this on. It’s the one I gave you. It’s Michal’s favorite.”

  David grabbed it before it hit the floor. “What’s going on?” he asked, unable to keep the annoyance out of his voice. “And where are you off to?” There was a petulance to his question as he pointed to the articles of war.

  “I worked it out so she could come and see you. It’s her surprise; I promised I wouldn’t spoil it.” With an enigmatic expression, the prince loosened the elaborate chest piece. “I told you I came bearing gifts, and I did not mean the food,” he said, handing the chest piece to him.

  David pulled back, too stunned to say anything. The prince smiled. “I insist,” he said, pushing it into David’s arms. The prince was grinning at David’s consternation and laughed quietly as he began to unclasp his sword belt. “A warrior always needs to be ready for combat, and, my friend, Israel’s champion should not be without one of these.” The thick leather belt and sword came free, and Jonathan tossed them at David, who had taken several steps back. David caught them easily with his slinging hand.

  “No, my prince. I can never accept these.” His hands were full, his cheeks were red, and he felt foolish. “I am not worthy.” He wanted to kneel but knew that would only make the situation even more embarrassing.

  Jonathan stepped toward him and laid his bow on top of the sleeping couch. When he straightened, his smile had been replaced by a look of tenderness that alarmed David. For an instant David was terrified that the prince was preparing to send him away from the royal court.