David Ascendant

by Brian Godawa

  Saul stood in his war tent, waiting. It was the size of a palace room and decorated to match with purple Phoenician cloth, Egyptian tapestries and a portable throne with small carved lion cherubs beside it. It was ostentatious and indicative of Saul’s new desire for greatness and glory.

  He was alone and looking upon his gleaming ornamental bronze armor when David arrived by escort into the tent.

  “My lord king,” said David as he bowed. “Would you like music this evening?” He had brought his lyre and began to tune it for play.

  “No,” said Saul. He wiped a bloody smudge from the bright metallic surface of his shield. “Finally, a moment to rest from hunting down those cowardly duplicitous Philistines.”

  “Yahweh be praised,” said David. “He has brought Israel her victory.”

  Saul walked over to David. “Yes, but you have become a gibborim, a mighty man of valor for your god and king. I have asked myself the question over and over, ‘who is this young warrior poet who has come from nowhere with no pedigree to rise in glory and honor before the eyes of all?’”

  “I am your lowly servant, my sovereign.”

  “Indeed. You were but a shepherd whose favor with both god and man has garnered you the position of royal musician, captain of the king’s guard, and now Champion of Israel, defeating the mightiest of our enemies. And yet you seek no glory in it.”

  “Lord, I am what I am by Yahweh’s grace for his glory.”

  “But what is it you want?” asked Saul. The question was more like an accusation. Saul was always demanding proof of loyalty from his servants.

  David dared not say what he was thinking. He wanted love. He wanted the woman whose angelic voice haunted his heart and whose beauty drove him mad with desire. He wanted Michal. But he knew that such desire would make him appear ambitious for royalty after all. And Saul’s mistrust would be justified. But he had another desire as well that was safe to admit.

  He said simply, “I want Yahweh to crush all his enemies under his feet, and for his anointed king to reign over all the Land of Promise.”

  “Well spoken,” mused Saul. “But much easier spoken than achieved. Still, you have achieved what no other warrior has in my service. And I owe you a debt of promise myself.”

  David said, “My lord?”

  “I did not forget what I promised to the one who vanquished the Philistine. When we return to Gibeah, I will exempt your father’s family from taxes, and you may have my daughter’s hand in marriage.”

  David’s heart leapt. Then Saul said, “You may marry my eldest daughter Merab as soon as you desire and you will become my son-in-law.”

  David’s heart fell. Merab? Of course it would be the eldest. It was the normal way of things to marry off the eldest first. He had been so absorbed in his thoughts of Michal that he completely forgot about Merab.

  Saul continued, “But you must continue to fight valiantly for me against the Philistines.”

  “My lord, who am I, and who is my father’s clan that I should become a son-in-law to the king? It is above my station.”

  “Nonsense. It is a common and acceptable means for entering the royal family through matrimony.”

  “My king, I must decline your generous offer. I am unworthy and have no desire to claim that prize.” He was sweating now, desperately trying to steady the panic gripping his heart. He could not live if he could not have Michal. To have her older sister instead would be a mockery and a curse against all the happiness in the world. Not for any lack of worth in Merab, but simply because she was not the object of all his love and desire.

  Saul was dumbfounded. “I am inclined to be insulted by such a gesture. But I see your sincerity and it proves your loyalty to your stated values. I dare say I am impressed.”

  David’s terror dissipated. He finally breathed a sigh of relief.

  Saul added, “But I am still going to give your family riches and tax exemption. I insist.”

  “Very well, my king. At your insistence, I submit to the wealth and taxes.”

  David knew that his chances for wedding Michal had just been obliterated. He had passed on marrying Merab because of his claim to lowly status. How then could he ever ask for Michal’s hand in contradiction to his façade of “noble” motives?

  He felt doomed to eternal unhappiness without his precious Michal.

  David drifted away after being dismissed by Saul. He found himself at the tent he had been given for his new champion status. He wondered if he could feel any worse than this very moment. He was so absorbed in his thoughts, he did not notice right away that Jonathan stood inside the tent, holding the rotting head of Goliath.

  “How goes it with my father, David?”

  David looked at him, startled. Then his eyes teared up. “Oh, Jonathan, my master and my friend. My life is over before it has even begun. Your father offered me Merab’s hand in marriage and I turned it down because I love another.”

  “Michal,” said Jonathan.

  “How did you know?”

  “David, it is so obvious to everyone in the palace except only the most blind and dim-witted. Thus my father, who is under his own spell of enchantment, is about the only one who does not know.”

  David was speechless. He had been blindsided twice this evening already. God only knew if he would be blindsided any more.

  Jonathan held up the decomposing head. Already, maggots were falling out of its nostrils. The forehead where David’s stone had sunk in was more discolored with red and purple than the rest of its decaying flesh. Its dead eyes were clouded and dissolving. “David, you killed the mightiest warrior in Philistia with a single stone. A giant Rephaim whom no one else in all of Israel would face. You and I know that Yahweh guided that stone to its target. Your music alone turns away the evil spirit that torments my father, the king of Israel. I have never seen such a person in my entire life with such favor of Yahweh upon him.”

  “Jonathan, you speak too highly of me. Temper your praise with all my faults of which you are also entirely aware. My terrible temper, my fleshly weakness for love.”

  Jonathan chuckled, “You are as blind as my father the king. Do you think Yahweh chooses men of perfection and sinlessness? Where is such a man, David? Where? I know of not one.”

  He put Goliath’s skull back into its box and closed the lid.

  “I am plagued by my sins, Jonathan. I have seen good men and I have seen great. And I am confident of this one thing: the great are rarely the good, and the good are rarely the great.”

  “Do you think Yahweh controls only the good in this world and not the evil?”

  David answered, “Do you justify evil with such appeals to Yahweh’s sovereignty?”

  “Of course not. Yahweh punishes evil even in his chosen people. But they are no less chosen, because he does not choose them for their goodness or their greatness—for anything in them. He chooses them because of his own purposes. And he chooses his anointed one as well.”

  “What are you saying, Jonathan?”

  Jonathan took off his royal robe. “I have sought out the Seer Samuel to see if my suspicions were correct. And I have found my answer.”

  David’s knees grew weak.

  “David, you were not anointed to be a royal musician in the court of the king of Israel.” He opened the robe and walked up to David to drape it over his back.

  “You were anointed to be the next king of Israel.”

  David felt faint. He caught himself and sat down on his armoring chair, staring with shock into the air.

  Jonathan picked up his bow, his sword and belt, and handed them to David.

  “I strip myself of my rights to the throne to support Yahweh’s chosen and anointed one, the messiah king.” He bowed to his knee.

  David got up quickly. Jonathan’s weapons fell to the floor with his robe. David walked to the other side of the tent, trying to get away. But he knew he could not get away.

  Thoughts collided in his head. This could not be. Was Jona
than lying about his meeting with Samuel? He had never lied to David before. Was this some kind of political maneuver? He had never showed any signs of ambition all the days David had known him. But David was plagued by his own duplicitous motives and failures of faith. It was difficult for him to conceive of a life with such true devotion and purity of heart as Jonathan. Yet he had proved himself over and over to David. He was not a man of fraudulence or ambition. He was a man of integrity and honor and above all, trust in the Living God. The kind of trust that David had learned from and had even sought to emulate. But now this? The ultimate sacrifice of giving up his inheritance as the next king of Israel to David, his younger and inexperienced inferior? Giving up royalty to a nobody because a cranky Seer had told him Yahweh chose differently? Who would do such a thing? No one David had ever known. This was either the supreme example of true faith or the biggest swindle of his life.

  “Let us cut a covenant,” said Jonathan. “I will pledge my fealty to you and will protect you against your enemies.”

  Chapter 30

  Ishbi knelt before the altar at the feet of Dagon in his holy temple. Lahmi stood behind him and the two others stood back further; Saph and Runihura.

  Dagon placed his trident upon Ishbi’s shoulder. Dagon’s mouth was still smudged with the blood of the goat sacrifice he had just consumed next to the corn offering. He said, “I, Dagon, mighty storm god, lord of fertility, and chief of the gods, do appoint thee, Ishbi ben Ob of Endor and Gath, as the general commander of the Sons of Rapha. Serve me well, and you will see victory on the field of war and length of days. Defy me and you will die a thousand deaths in the waters of my wrath.”

  Behind the stone statue of Dagon, Asherah whispered to Ba’alzebul, “‘Chief of the gods?’ His ego far exceeds his abilities.”

  Ba’alzebul whispered back, “It is time the fish understands he is not our superior.”

  At the Sanctuary altar, the Sons of Rapha froze and glanced with shock behind Dagon. Dagon wondered what they were staring at.

  And then it hit him, just as Ba’alzebul and Asherah stood next to him.

  Ishbi said, “The gods.” The giants knelt and bowed. They were overwhelmed with the imposing presence of Ba’alzebul’s bull horns and Asherah’s battle-maiden voluptuousness.

  Dagon gave Ba’alzebul and Asherah a dirty look the giants could not see.

  Ba’alzebul pronounced, “Rephaim, you kneel before Ba’alzebul the storm god and Lady Asherah of the Sea. We are here in council with Dagon to commission you in your new calling.”

  Dagon fumed. Ba’alzebul had stolen his thunder.

  Ba’alzebul continued, “The goddess will now explain to you what we require.”

  Asherah saw Dagon was in a quandary. If he lost his temper at their intrusion, he would look weak. If he went along, it would appear to be part of his plan. But either way, Ba’alzebul and Asherah were now running the show — at least for the moment.

  Asherah said, “Do you know who this conqueror of your Champion is?”

  Ishbi said, “No, my lady. But we will find him and tear him to pieces as an offering to you.”

  Dagon was miffed that Ishbi was no longer speaking of his dedication to Dagon, but to her as well.

  Ba’alzebul said, “Is it true he is but a child?”

  “He is a dog,” said Ishbi.

  Ba’alzebul said, “What was Goliath, then, a kitten? And what does that make the rest of you, mice?”

  Lahmi spoke out of turn, “Only the messiah king could have defeated Goliath.”

  Ishbi shot him an angry look.

  Ba’alzebul said, “Yet, you do not know who he is.”

  Dagon was increasingly agitated at having his altar taken over by this pair of glory-stealing divine bullies. He tried to reinsert himself into the lead. “Before we can kill him, we must find him. Before we can find him, we must learn who he is and what his powers and weaknesses are.”

  Asherah butted in, “Dagon is correct. Return to your king and seek intelligence on this ‘dog.’ But do not seek to kill him without our approval. You are dismissed.”

  “Yes, my gods,” said Ishbi. He led the others out of the sanctuary to their waiting squads of Rephaim outside the temple.

  Dagon held back his rage through gritted teeth. “How dare you usurp my authority in my own temple. I am the god of the Philistines.”

  Dagon glared at Ba’alzebul, who looked puffed up and entirely capable of obliterating Dagon if he chose to, let alone gore him like a bull with those horns.

  Dagon sought to bluff his way out, using guilt. “I took you under my arm when you were too weak to fend for yourself. I called you my son.” He looked at Asherah. “And you are far from your Sidonian coastal homeland. You had best watch yourself outside of your territory.”

  Asherah said, “Do not fret yourself, Dagon. We are not usurping your authority. It is simply time you recognize we are equals and we work together. You cannot do this alone.”

  She glanced back and forth at them both like a scolding mother, “Now, if you two do not learn how to get along, then we will be divided and Yahweh will win. Is that what you want?”

  Dagon knew she was right. He said, “No.”

  Brilliant, thought Ba’alzebul, she is playing the mediating mother. Her words would actually make sense — if they weren’t planning on overthrowing Dagon and taking his territory.

  Asherah said, “Ba’alzebul, did you hear me? Is that what you want?”

  “No,” said Ba’alzebul. He played the part of a boy making up after a playground fight.

  Dagon tried to assert some backhanded control. He said to Ba’alzebul, “You can keep Ekron, but I still demand respect in my territory.”

  Ba’alzebul said, “Understood.” Ba’alzebul thought, I will sift you like wheat when the time is right.

  Asherah said, “Dagon, it is time we try my plan that you rejected years ago. I have unmolested access to the Israelite tribes. They worship me. Let me go amongst them, and I will find out everything we need to know about this messiah. Besides, it is time I get out of this tomb and get some fresh air among the peoples.”

  Dagon said, “Who are your spies?”

  Asherah said, “The Israelites are quite fond of my sacred prostitutes. They move freely in their midst.”

  Dagon took a long time to respond. He wanted to make them both feel as if they needed his approval. Philistia was still his allotment from the gods. He would not look weak. That would be his death knell.

  “Agreed,” he said. “Let us work together.”

  Asherah smiled. “They do not call me the goddess of fecundity for nothing.”

  It was too much for Ba’alzebul to hold back. He had been watching Asherah taking charge, showing strength. It turned him on. Her black pulpy lips, her mammoth breasts, her voluptuous hips.

  He said, with eyes locked on Asherah’s body, “Now that our fecund Lady of the Sea has set us straight, let us celebrate our new threesome of unity. I am feeling quite virile. How about you, Dagon?”

  Dagon smiled. It was all a balance of power. Each display of potency by an individual in their unholy trinity would require an equal display of potency in the other two. And Ba’alzebul’s favored form of potency was sexual conquest.

  Ba’alzebul grabbed Asherah’s leather corset in his hands and with one yank, ripped her outfit completely off her body, leaving her naked before the ravenous eyes of the two gods.

  The muscle-bound deity said with a jackal-like grin, “I do believe I am hungry.”

  Dagon drooled.

  Her sensuous female figure was ironically juxtaposed with her male sexual member. She was, after all, a male Watcher in goddess disguise. Though he artificially modified his body to appear female, he would not go so far as to mutilate his own source of debauched pleasure.

  Asherah knew she had to fight to make her attackers feel superior. She was strong, but not nearly as strong as Ba’alzebul.

  So she fought them on that fortuitous evenin
g, but her attackers overpowered her and raped her until morning.

  Chapter 31

  Goliath’s skull of rotting flesh was paraded before the triumphal procession through the streets of Gibeah. It bothered Saul greatly to have David at the lead carrying the pike with the giant’s head on it. But he had to allow it. Everyone knew that David was the warrior who had killed the Rapha, so Saul could not hide that fact. He had to publish it. It burned like a hot coal on his pride. He wanted his people to worship him, to praise him as their mighty victorious king. He wanted to be the greatest king who ever lived. Instead, David received the glory for chopping off the head of the mightiest Champion in Philistia.

  Far worse yet was the music that accompanied the celebration. Women came from all areas of the city, singing and dancing before the procession. It was the custom for such things. They used tambourines, cymbals and bells, and sang a song of praise. But this song was subversive praise. He could not hear all the lyrics, but the ones he did made him burn with anger.

  The chorus was clear as the bells they were ringing:

  Saul has struck down his thousands,

  And David his ten thousands!

  Saul has struck down his thousands,

  And David his ten thousands!

  Saul grew incensed with each verse. How dare these puny commoners sing such things to my face. Attributing mere thousands to my glory, while attributing a myriad to David? I am their king. He is but my servant.

  When he got to the palace, he went straight to his bed chamber. But it was not to rest. It was to fume with mounting anger. He paced around the room. His thoughts grew from indignant to enraged.

  I should levy a heavy tax on these ungrateful peasants. Or maybe I should let them face the scimitars and javelins of the Philistines and see if they could kill their mere thousands, while lauding David for his ten thousands.

  He stopped, aware of a presence in the room. His shadow counselor whispered with a hiss of bitterness, “You have every right to be outraged. You are a great and mighty king. David is nothing. He is a minstrel.”