by Brian Godawa
Ishbi knew it too.
Dagon continued, “You will call it the Yalid ha Rapha, the Sons of Rapha. They are to be an elite fighting force that will unify and lead the rest of the Rephaim giants in the territory on a singular quest. Choose only the finest young warriors as your captains, giants you can trust.”
“When shall we strike, mighty god?” asked Goliath with characteristic impatience.
“First you must build your leadership, grow in numbers, and train your warriors. Yahweh is diabolical and more prepared than you can possibly know.”
“But how long will it take?”
“Patience, Goliath. I will let you know when the time is come.”
Goliath skulked. Vengeance was bitter in his mouth, and he wanted to spit it out as soon as possible, not suck on it for years. But the gods knew better.
Dagon put him in his place. “Goliath, you are a mighty warrior. But you are young. You have much to learn, and so will your companions. You know not the machinations of the enemy. But I do. And only through careful and deliberate planning can we have the hope of accomplishing the goal.”
“Yes, my Lord and god,” cowed Goliath.
Ittai groaned and moved on the floor. With all his attention focused on Dagon, Ishbi had forgotten the two boys and why they had come here to begin with. He said, “And the boys, my Lord, shall we leave them with you for their healing?”
“I have heard your petitions. You may take them with you. I will make no promises regarding the lives of these boys. If I am pleased with you, I will save them. But if I find any displeasure in your devotion – anything at all – I may change my mind.”
“Yes, my Lord,” said both Goliath and Ishbi. They solemnly picked up the two lads and left the sanctuary with hope in their hearts – and vengeance on their minds.
Dagon watched them leave. Then another god stepped out from behind the image. He was the same height with same elongated skull as Dagon. But he had the beginning growth of bull horns on his head and his body was massively built with muscle.
It was Ba’al, the storm god of Canaan, son of Dagon.
But he was not the only one.
Another deity followed him to complete this trinity of terror. Her name was Asherah. Unlike Ashtart, the infamous goddess of sex and war that had been svelte and sinewy of form, Asherah had a more mature female shape. Her full and buxom figure made her a mistress of sexual vigor and fertility. Whereas Ashtart ruled through terror, Asherah ruled through cunning. Ashtart fought the Israelite invaders of Canaan, but Asherah seduced them. She also had pride of station as the consort of the supreme god El and “mother of the gods.” The seventy Sons of God who were over the nations, were considered her sons by the Canaanites.
Ba’al had washed ashore on the banks of the coastal island of Tyre in northern Canaan. “Lady Asherah of the Sea” as she was also called, was patron goddess of Tyre and Sidon. She was also sometimes called “the Serpent Lady,” as she often carried snakes wound around her neck or body.
She had taken Ba’al in and helped him on his long journey back to health. Though he had lost his previous status, she knew his potential and how he had risen in power the first time to the position of Most High. She remembered how he was the only god who had bested Ashtart the ruthless goddess of war. Canaanite legend had it that Asherah also persuaded El to allow Ba’al to rebuild his temple on Mount Sapan. By supporting Ba’al, she would be backing the mightiest god of the pantheon and would ensure her own co-regency over the territory.
As a divine being, Ba’al could not die. But he had heavenly flesh that could feel pain. So when he was imprisoned in the molten earth below, his physical body had been completely burnt through to a crisp. The pain had been excruciating and carried with it a searing desire for revenge on the creatures who sent him to his prison: the archangels of Yahweh.
Healing of such divine flesh was usually rapid, but because his damage was so thorough and deep, it had taken him weeks before he regained his previous strength, and more before the charred scarring all over his body had disappeared. One of the strange things that did not disappear was the flies. When Ba’al’s flesh was burnt, it drew flies wherever he went. But strangely, even after he had long healed, the annoying presence of flies never left him.
Ba’al had once been the uncontested high god of Canaan. But with his dethroning absence, Dagon had gained the territory with the approval of the assembly of gods and had grown strong through Philistine power. Ba’al could not simply come back and claim what he had lost without the assembly’s backing, and that would require some political maneuvering beyond brute force. In a political maneuver of his own, Dagon made Ba’al the “Son of Dagon,” to keep him in mindful check of which cock ruled the roost now in Philistia. Unfortunately, that ruling did not include miraculous healing powers.
“What if the boys die?” asked Asherah “You promised to heal them in exchange for their devotion. Our magic is of no effect on Yahweh’s curse.”
“Not true,” argued Dagon. “I said I would consider healing them, or I could change my mind.”
Asherah quipped, “Plausible deniability. Clever.”
Dagon said, “What say you, Ba’al?”
Ba’al was pensive. He responded quietly and submissively, but with confidence. “I say we cannot afford to lose our warrior cult. We are too close. But I think the Old Lady should remember who is Prince of this territory and support his strategy.”
Dagon smiled. Asherah frowned.
Dagon slapped Ba’al’s back. Ba’al winced with irritation.
“Sorry about that, son,” said Dagon with relish. “I will leave you two to your lover’s quarrel. I have an orgy to attend to.”
Dagon left them and disappeared behind the image in the tunnel that led to his debauchery.
Asherah sighed. She muttered under her breath, “Must you insult me in front of the fish?”
Ba’al looked back to make sure Dagon was gone.
“I am supposed to be his vassal god,” he whispered. “How do you expect me to act, like I am planning on taking over Canaan with My Lady of the Sea? If he suspects for a moment, he will squash our plans before they have had time to mature. A little groveling on your part might help with the distraction.”
She sighed again. He was right. They could not afford to be discovered before they could gain their audience with Mastema, the serpent overlord of Canaan. Without Mastema’s blessing, they would not stand a chance in Sheol with the assembly. Ba’al could take back Canaan by force, but he preferred to do it legally so he would not be at odds against the rest of the pantheon. More importantly, Mastema was a brilliant legal mind who could ruin Ba’al in the heavenly court if he wanted to.
“Have you any news of Mastema’s whereabouts?” said Asherah.
“Unfortunately, he remains in Assyria and Babylon, with no hint of a soon return. He is preparing for something big, but only Yahweh knows what.”
She said, “Mastema frustrates me. He works on his own time scale and lords it over the rest of us in the pantheon.”
He said, “Well, then we accommodate to his schedule and maintain our course with patience and calculation. In the meantime, I suggest you consider some sexual groveling toward Dagon.”
“Ugh,” groaned Asherah. “Distractions, distractions. Just remember what sacrifices I made to support your return to power.”
He looked her up and down. His eyes landed on her massive cleavage and he murmured, “And I expect many more sacrifices to complete my gratification.”
She rolled her eyes and left him to seek out Dagon. “By the way, I like the horns. Nice touch.”
Chapter 9
Within four days, hundreds were dead in the city of Gath. Bodies full of bloated, pus-filled boils, and bloody hemorrhoids filled the streets and garbage dump.
But within a week, Lahmi and Ittai had both survived the plagues and were nursed back to health.
Ishbi and Goliath were ordered to move the Israelite ark away from the
city and take it to Ekron. But the people of Ekron accused them of trying to kill them all. They had gotten wind of the plagues and deaths that followed the golden box.
Some within the military ranks suggested that Goliath and Ishbi be demoted for bringing the source of this curse upon the people. But the Philistine Lords knew the Rephaim ranks were too crucial to their success as an army, so instead, they decided to take responsibility and get rid of the abominable offense. They sent the ark away on a cart pulled by two unblemished milking cows and accompanied by a guilt offering of images; five rats and five tumors made out of gold, one for each of the Philistine Lords of the pentapolis.
They reasoned that if it was Yahweh that had harmed them with the plagues, then he would lead the cows back to an Israelite city. But if the harm had been by coincidence then the cows would just wander into the desert to be consumed by Azazel.
The cows had gone directly to Beth-shemesh of Israel, a known residence of their Levitical priests.
Lahmi didn’t care where the stupid box went. He was glad it was out of their lives and with it the abominable curse. He was just happy to be alive. Like his big brother, he grew bitter with anger at the God who almost killed him. He thanked Dagon for healing him when he discovered that Goliath and Ishbi had carried him and Ittai to the temple for prayer.
Ittai was not so confident of the superiority of Dagon. He wondered how it was that this Yahweh was able to do so much damage to those who had kidnapped him and held him prisoner. Why could Dagon not stop the plagues? Did Dagon really heal them both or did Yahweh lift his curse?
He put his doubts and questions out of his mind. Goliath and Ishbi entered the gymnasium where Ittai and Lahmi worked on their battle forms.
The two gibborim pulled the aspiring young warriors aside. Goliath said, “Let us go for a walk.”
They took Lahmi and Ittai to the desert just outside the city. Ittai could see the sea miles away on the horizon.
Goliath put his hand affectionately on his little brother.
“Lahmi. You know that I am destined for greatness.”
Lahmi nodded vigorously.
“But you are my blood. And I believe Dagon loves you, and has a wonderful plan for your life.”
Lahmi’s senses were heightened with anticipation.
Ittai suddenly felt left out. Again. Why was Goliath only addressing Lahmi and not Ittai?
Goliath added, “When Dagon healed you and Ittai, I knew that you were destined for greatness.”
Ittai wondered, Does he mean the two of us were destined for greatness or just Lahmi?
Ishbi put his hand on Ittai’s shoulder. It felt a comfort to him, as if Ishbi was affirming to Ittai that he was not forgotten.
Goliath continued, “You are now old enough for me to tell you a secret. But both you and Ittai must swear by the throne of Dagon – and on your lives – to speak of it to no one.”
“We swear,” said Lahmi.
Goliath looked at Ittai, who responded instantly, “On the throne of Dagon and our lives.”
They had responded with “we,” not with “I,” and that without even thinking. How could they not? They did everything together. They shared a destiny.
“I am the head of a secret order called Yalid ha Rapha, the Sons of Rapha.”
The eyes of both boys went wide. They felt they were living inside one of their own campfire tales.
“We are also a sacred order, commissioned by Dagon with a holy quest: the complete destruction of Israel and her god, Yahweh.”
Lahmi turned giddy with excitement.
Ittai’s mouth went dry. He knew Yahweh was their enemy, but he suspected that the divinity was more powerful than any of them realized. He was not sure they knew exactly what they were facing.
Goliath smirked with pride at Lahmi, “You are going to be initiated to become a Son of Rapha in training.”
Lahmi could not contain his smile of sheer delight. They had planned and plotted and practiced to one day become mighty gibborim warriors like Goliath and Ishbi. That day was here.
But Goliath didn’t look at Ittai when he said “you.” Ittai thought, Was he just giving his attention to his brother? Or was he excluding me? He said “son of Rapha,” not “sons of Rapha.”
Ittai broke out in a cold sweat. He felt his stomach turn sour.
Lahmi noticed it too. He turned curious. “What about Ittai?”
Goliath looked away before glancing at Ittai with a guilty look.
He said, “I know that you and Ittai are very close. Like brothers.”
Ittai blurted out, “Like blood brothers!”
Goliath sighed. The silence was a dagger going through Ittai’s heart.
“I am afraid that Ittai will not be included. It is only you, Lahmi, who has been chosen.”
Ittai felt dizzy.
Lahmi was horrified. “But why?”
“Because you are a Rapha, a descendent of the Nephilim.”
“But so is Ittai. He has twelve fingers and toes. His mother was a Rapha.”
“But his father was not. Ittai is a half-breed. He is stunted in his growth. He will not be able to keep up with you.”
“But he is stronger than me. He is as strong as any Rapha twice his size.”
Lahmi was right. Though Ittai had not been blessed with the size of a Rapha, he had the strength of one, thus giving him a decided advantage in battle. Size was deceptive.
“I am sorry, Lahmi – and Ittai. It will not do.”
Ittai’s entire world had just been destroyed and taken from him. It was like a second Deluge had washed away all his dreams of becoming a gibborim. And now he was being tortured. The future he had desired dangled in front of him briefly, only to be ripped from him, along with his best friend in the world.
As usual, Lahmi’s thoughts ran along the same lines as Ittai. He was angry.
“Why did you bring him out here with me then? Why are you torturing him by revealing this secret and then telling him he cannot have it?”
Ittai’s skin went suddenly cold. He felt a chill. The thought occurred to him that maybe they were planning on getting rid of him.
Goliath said, “I knew you two were close as…” He looked over at Ittai with approval. “As blood brothers. So I didn’t want you to be the one to have to tell him.”
Ittai felt like they were now talking about him as if he were not there. As if they were going to remove him altogether. He gripped his dagger. He would go down fighting.
Ishbi gripped Ittai’s shoulder tighter, as if to comfort him – or was it to hold him down?
He whispered to Ittai, “You will be a fine Philistine warrior in your own right.” But those were not the only whispers he heard in his head. As soon as Ishbi had touched him, he heard a dozen different voices whispering vile and degrading things to him. It sounded as if they were preparing him to die.
Ittai was not going to wait for the dagger that would slide across his throat as he contemplated Ishbi’s distracting words.
He spun around, releasing himself from Ishbi’s grip and gave the warrior a hard slug in the kidney.
Ishbi grunted in pain and went down to one knee at the sucker punch.
Ittai bolted away. He ran deeper into the desert.
Ishbi got angry. He stood, prepared to chase the little runt.
But Goliath said, “Let him go. We have hurt him enough. He will need time to get over it.”
Lahmi wept.
Goliath watched his brother. He knew this was like separating Ishbi from himself. But Lahmi had to become hard.
“Dry those tears, brother. You are not a woman. You are a warrior. Now you will be a Son of Rapha. It is time for your initiation.”
Chapter 10
Lahmi had his eyes blindfolded. He was led to another location not far from where he and Ittai had been. He stood in the warm breeze of sundown, but a chill crept through his bones as he heard the arrival of about three or four other men.
Goliath said, “Sons of
Rapha, this is Lahmi of Gath, our newest tadpole in the service of Dagon.”
Lahmi heard the men applaud. They were the officers of the warrior cult. His new brothers.
Goliath stopped speaking. Now Ishbi said, “Be ready to fight, tadpole.”
Lahmi stood his ground, and raised his hands in readiness to grapple. He couldn’t see through the blindfold, so he felt awkward spinning around, not knowing from which direction his attackers would come.
The first attack was a slap on his rear, followed by chuckling from the warriors.
He spun around to try to face the slapper. Instead, he got another slap on the arm, a hard contact. It stung. He tried to reach out quickly and grab the offender’s hand, but he was not quick enough.
Then a series of hard stinging slaps coming from all directions assaulted him. It made him dizzy. He felt like a fool wildly grasping at the air, being laughed at by a cadre of his superiors.
Then the first punch struck him. It hit his left arm. He felt a shooting pain and grabbed his arm in protection. He rubbed the sting out of it. It was a hard hit.
The next one was just as hard, a hit in the leg. He yelped in pain. It must have been a kick.
“Stop your squawking, tadpole. You are a warrior, not a woman.” It was Ishbi again. “Or are you a woman? Maybe you are just a dog for our pleasure.”
Another hit. Lahmi became angry. He started to swing in the air. Maybe he could guess and get lucky, connecting with some giant’s jaw who was lunging at the same moment.
It was not to be. A flurry of kicks and punches rained down upon him. They overwhelmed him.
He dropped to the desert floor trying desperately to protect his head and groin.
Then it all stopped. He coughed out the dust that had gotten into his lungs.
“Get up and fight like a giant,” Ishbi’s voice said.
Lahmi got up, limping. But he was up. He was determined to face the impossible odds against him.
He could hear the labored breathing of his initiators closing in. It occurred to him that maybe he had tired them out with his ability to take a beating.
