Day of War

by Cliff Graham

“Just the two of them?” Eliam asked in disbelief.

  “Just the two of them. Wish I could have seen it. Worthless Philistines probably ran like women when they heard the commotion.”

  A voice behind them broke in. “You left out a few things, Jamaliel.”

  It was Jonathan, who had walked over looking for his delayed food. There was a slight grin on his face in the firelight.

  “Forgive me, lord.” Jamaliel hurried to finish the bowl.

  Eliam concentrated on his stitching. Jonathan watched them a moment. Gareb had joined him.

  “What was it I said to you before we climbed down into the canyon?”

  Gareb replied, “You said, ‘Perhaps Yahweh will be with us.’”

  “And now all the men chant it. Did you know what I meant by it, Gareb?”

  “You told me once. Yahweh does not want us to be meek in battle. Once we are certain it is his will, we attack and pray that he delivers us.”

  “How many of the men know that?”

  “Probably only a few. Troops forget things easily. They chant it because you said it, and they love you.”

  Eliam kept his eyes focused on the stitching, wincing when the tip of the copper needle poked his wrist. He wiped the small trickle of blood off on his waist and noticed, after nothing more was said, that Jonathan continued watching him.

  “Come join us by the fire,” Jonathan said after a while.

  Jamaliel and Eliam stopped what they were doing, made eye contact, and then slowly stood. Jonathan gestured toward the fire, and Gareb returned to the rock he had been seated on. The two servants followed. Jonathan took the bowl of stew from Jamaliel and returned to his own boulder.

  The four men listened to the sounds of the Israelite army around them as soldiers prepared to settle for the night. Men were digging sleeping spots in the rocky forest floor, taking no particular pains to muffle the noise of their digging. Most assumed that since they would die soon anyway, it did not matter who knew where they were.

  Eliam watched the fire nervously, afraid to look up at the men across from him. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Jonathan had his eyes closed, as if savoring the familiar sounds. Loud, crass jokes were being shouted back and forth among the camp; fires crackled; the wind dusted the treetops overhead every so often. The night was idyllic. One would never know what waited in the valley nearby.

  “This was back before anyone besides my father and I had iron weapons,” Jonathan said quietly, not opening his eyes. “I decided to ask Yahweh for a sign, so I told Gareb that we should go pay a visit to the Philistines. If they shouted for us to stay where we were so they could come kill us, we would take that to mean Yahweh did not want us to fight them. But if they demanded that we come over, then it would be a sign that he wanted us to destroy them. Yahweh does not care about numbers, you know.

  “When we came out of our position at the bottom of the cliffs, one of the Philistines shouted over the side, ‘Look, the Hebrews are crawling out of their holes! Come on up here and we will teach you a lesson!’ So that was our sign.”

  “I never was a good rock climber. Too stocky and well muscled,” said Gareb.

  Jonathan ignored the joke. “I told him to follow me up the cliffs because I knew we were going to defeat them. When we reached the top, we split up. You don’t normally do that when you fight in pairs, but I wanted to destroy them.

  “I killed the first man with a single thrust, then tossed his weapon to Gareb. We attacked them without mercy. There were twenty of them. All died quickly.”

  Eliam glanced at him. This was a different story than he had heard the king tell the historian.

  “Yahweh sent an earthquake, surprising all of us, but we kept advancing because we knew it was from him. The Philistines, who were poorly led despite their strength, began to panic. Lookouts across the gorge in my father’s camp saw the enemy fleeing, and we watched as our countrymen began to chase them.

  “The three Philistine divisions that had been sent out from Michmash were so terrified that they began to fight among themselves. Gareb and I were separated from the rest of the army by the canyon, but we kept pursuing them.

  “The battle went on for hours. The Lord was bringing a great victory. As the Philistines fell, our men took their iron weapons. At some point in the afternoon, my father gave an order that no one should eat until evening. I don’t know why he —”

  Jonathan abruptly stopped. Everyone waited, unwilling to prod him on. After a while, he stood and walked to the edge of the firelight, looking out over the army encampment.

  “If I had known he had given that order, things might have been different between us.”

  Jonathan turned to look at Gareb. Eliam was stunned at the depth of anguish on his face.

  “I would have stopped. I would have never eaten again, if that was what he wanted. I would have done anything for him.”

  “It was a foolish order. You saved the kingdom that day. Your father should have taken the crown off right then,” Gareb said.

  “Don’t say that. He is the Lord’s anointed.”

  “Then the Lord anointed the wrong man.”

  Jonathan’s eyes flashed with anger. “The Lord never makes mistakes! His purposes are his own. Never say such things!”

  Gareb only stared, his jaw clenched in silence.

  Jonathan turned away to face the valley far below. “The Lord did not make a mistake. The right man has been anointed to rule, and nothing can be done to stop him.”

  Eliam did not know what that meant, but it was as though the mountains and the forests and the stones in a thousand fields had collapsed onto the shoulders of this one man. He could feel the weight of his sorrows just by standing near him.

  Shouts and mocking laughter erupted in the night. A soldier was regaling his friends at a campfire nearby. No one could actually hear any of the story, but the laughter seemed to calm Jonathan, who raised his face to the sky and inhaled deeply several times.

  Eliam waited desperately for him to continue, but Jonathan did not appear interested in saying any more, content to watch the darkness and campfires.

  Jamaliel said, “They say David gathers men in Ziklag, lord.”

  Jonathan’s shoulders hunched a little as he exhaled a deep breath, but he still said nothing.

  Jamaliel prodded. “You were close to him, lord prince. Why do you remain here?”

  Jonathan did not look back at them. “We had a tremendous victory that day. We should have butchered all of them like oxen. Phi would have been subjugated, the plains finally the property of Yahweh’s people—it was all within our grasp.” His voice dropped enough that Eliam had to strain to hear it. “Don’t ever speak of David again to me.”

  The fire crackled loudly, diverting Eliam’s attention. When he got up to stoke it, a man approached them and asked to speak with Jonathan, who listened to him and then turned to the group. He looked at Eliam.

  “That garment looks good. Make sure it is stitched twice where the leather rubs it.” He turned to Jamaliel. “As usual it was bitter, but it will suffice,” he said, then winked. Slapping Gareb on the shoulder, he said, “The king calls a war council. I will be back in a few hours.” With that he strode out of the light of the fire, followed by the messenger.

  Eliam watched them disappear into the night, then added another log of cypress to the fire, staring at it while steam hissed.

  “That log was too wet,” Jamaliel said.

  “Wet like your pants when the fighting starts, right, Jamaliel?” Gareb replied.

  “I wasn’t always a cook. I was a shield bearer too.”

  “Right. And how did that go for you? Last I heard your master still had the arrow in his loins.”

  But Eliam paid little attention to the banter, the conversation with the prince still on his mind.

  EIGHT

  There are flames. He is testing us, those of us who came to him in the cave. Only the strongest can join him. The ground is on fire all around
me. He is testing us, testing us. But we can do this. Run faster now! The log on the rope swings again, almost hits me; I need to keep moving. Faster! he shouts, his sword cutting the ropes, sending more logs toward us. Will this never end? Will he never let us rest? But I will not quit. More logs swing toward us. I can do this. Keep moving, faster …

  The javelin flies at me. Dive quick, roll, keep running. Too many things, so very tired. One more hill to climb. My legs are burning, they will not hold up. Breathe again. Wipe the dust. He is shouting at us again, I fall, more boulders coming down the hill. I can do it, I can do it, she needs me to do it …

  David’s voice rings across the mountainside.

  “You will be the greatest fighting force in the world, or you will be dead before the month is out. Either way, you will learn to move quickly.”

  How do we survive this? Have not eaten in days, I need water, I need rest. Keep carrying this rock, Benaiah, do not quit, no matter what happens, do not quit!

  “Praise to our God!” David shouts.

  “Arrows to our enemies!” we shout back.

  Keep running. I cannot run up another hill. Sherizah, forgive me, I tried for a better life for us. But I cannot run up this hill. I fall forward; my face scrapes the dirt. That is all I have. No more. The others collapse next to me. They are finished as well. David wanted one more hill. We cannot give it. But keep moving, he said. I can keep moving. I will roll if I need to. I will not quit! Keep moving! Crawling over the stones and the heat, I am so thirsty, I need water. Rolling now. Blackness, cannot see anymore, need water, I cannot do it, but I do it anyway, I keep moving.

  I feel a hand on my back. “Well done, man from the south,” says the voice of David. “You have a home among us, if you wish.” He is smiling at me. So are his men. We can join them. A new life for us. A new start …

  “Well, it looks like Benaiah, son of the priest, valiant man from Kabzeel, has once again fallen prey to his weaknesses. Probably has some excuse like his back gave out. Your father was a tough man. What happened with you?”

  “No, it’ll be better than that. His eye hurts. Or maybe the child he was fighting stuck him in the leg, and he needs it to be kissed.”

  Benaiah felt his head clearing in the cool evening air. Had he passed out? He became aware of dirt on his face. No, it wasn’t dirt; it was sand. No, dirt. Then the pain closed in with pressure behind his eyes, and he felt queasy.

  “Don’t worry, we’re going to get the physician for you. He’ll be here in a minute. Don’t know if he’ll kiss it, though. You need me to kiss it and make it better? Bet I kiss better than your woman does.”

  “That cut on his arm needs a better kiss than you can provide.”

  “Bring your woman over here and I’ll show you.”

  The voices sounded familiar. His eyes were not working yet; was it because of the blood loss? He rubbed them with the arm that still worked. The other one wasn’t doing anything he wanted it to. And why weren’t his eyes working? There was laughter. Yes, he knew those voices. They were standing next to his head, and a few of them had their hands on his back.

  Finally his eyes opened, and he saw a large, husky face staring at him. Next to that face were others. The Three.

  “Well, they’re open now, so I guess that rules out the bad eye. Any other excuses, Benaiah?”

  He saw the curl in Josheb’s mouth as he said it. Always joking. Benaiah coughed out the dirt in the back of his throat and narrowed his eyelids. “Lions will do that to a man.”

  “Lions, is it? And when did the bear attack?” This was Eleazar, running his fingers through his beard.

  “No, the bears went down first. Twenty of them. Followed by twelve prides of lions. I let them have at one of my arms so it would be more of a challenge.”

  “Just one arm? Thought you were more man than that. My infant daughter would have given up at least a leg,” said Eleazar.

  “Well, that will spare her from being chosen for marriage. At least there will be a reason other than her face,” Benaiah replied. Everyone laughed loudly.

  Josheb prodded Benaiah’s forehead, making him wince. “You never had a beautiful face to begin with, but you look awful now. Like you slept on a pile of arrowheads.”

  Benaiah forced himself to sit up. The men cleared away from him to give him room. There were a lot of them around. Josheb shouted for the group to return to their meal since there was nothing more to see. Benaiah felt relieved that he would not have to tell his story to a crowd. They meant well, but he was tired. And in pain.

  He pressed his arm with his hand, hoping to relieve the pressure from the wound, which was surely infected by then. There was a physician on the way. He hoped it wasn’t a Philistine. Then he remembered that David had brought a physician along with them, another man who had deserted Saul’s army. He was a battlefield physician, accustomed to cuts and heavy bleeding. That was good. There would be a lot of that soon.

  Josheb finished shoving men out of the area and returned to kneeling down beside Benaiah. He was an averaged-sized man, smaller than Benaiah, and it would be hard for anyone to pick him out of a crowd of soldiers. Nothing about his physical appearance, including the constant twinkle in his eyes as he prepared his next round of teasing and joking, would convince anyone that he was probably the most lethal warrior in the kingdom. His body was not large, but it was hard, and he could move it quickly. Josheb was wearing a dark war tunic with elaborate stitching, which, to his lasting ridicule by the men, his wife asked him to promise to wear.

  “We were a little worried about you. Thought you would catch up to us in Gath. By the time we reached Ekron, we figured you were hurt, but after all, we couldn’t abandon our Philistine sisters— sorry, brothers.”

  Benaiah took the water offered to him and poured it over his face. The cold splash felt like new life. “As long as you didn’t weep for me.”

  “So it was a lion after all? I am glad Yahweh spared you, my friend,” Shammah said as he leaned against a small tree. Shammah was the dourest of the group. His inability to make a humorous remark frequently left him out of conversations. Benaiah was a kindred spirit, but even he realized that a man rarely enjoyed life in an army if he could not come up with the occasional witty comment. Where Josheb was physically unimpressive, Shammah was immense, even larger than Benaiah. He walked awkwardly, and his social interactions were even more so. He muttered to himself when he was alone, saying he was praying. He would have easily been mistaken for a large, bumbling oaf were he not able to fight ten men at once with such control that he would scarcely be panting when all lay dead around him.

  “Two of them,” Benaiah said. “Had some help from the village. A brave man named Jairas; a kid was with him. The boy girded his loins, though. He took a charge and was wounded pretty badly.”

  “Did he make it?” asked Shammah.

  Benaiah nodded and took another drink of the water. “He did. He was pretty sad that he didn’t have a woman to look after him, though. He told us so. Said he was trying. Made me think of Shammah.”

  Josheb laughed. “That definitely puts him in the same camp as Shammah. How long have you been trying, Shammah?”

  Shammah scowled. He fidgeted with a stick on the ground. “A long time. It fails to be funny.” There was more laughter. “No, I said it fails to be funny.”

  “Why wasn’t the last one acceptable? I heard she came from good stock. Her father had more than enough for the bride price. She even had good, wide hips for childbirth.”

  Eleazar, the third man in the group and usually the one who held his tongue until it was most appropriately used, had hung out ripe bait and everyone knew it. They all waited to see who would bite.

  Josheb could not help himself. “Width was the least of her worries.”

  Shammah punched him. It was a stiff blow, but Josheb was laughing so hard that he did not even mind the blood on his lip.

  “I told you, I will marry when it comes time. The Law forbids a man to marr
y unless he can stay a year with the woman.”

  “May the Lord spare me from such a fate,” said Josheb. “A year with a woman. I would rather wash Philistine feet. My wife kicked me out after one day. David has two of them. Perhaps he needs our prayers.”

  “It isn’t all that bad. Some are worth it,” replied Eleazar.

  “That’s because yours is good and submissive. What do you do if they behave like unruly mules? I’d never want to face my own wife in a fight.”

  “Saul must have conscripted even more of the men because there were hardly any left in that town.” Benaiah had a way of interrupting the fun, much like Shammah, and he knew it, but his mind had begun to wander again. The other three looked at him expectantly for a moment, then realized he was not being humorous. They all stared back into the fire.

  “They say he is already in the valley. Has camps stationed near the Gilboa range,” said Josheb.

  “Makes sense. We always fortified the valley before campaigns,” answered Eleazar.

  Josheb frowned. “But David was always the one holding the pass. No one got through the Jezreel if he was there. He was the only one capable of it. Who do they have who can do that now? Abner? He doesn’t have enough men.”

  “Jonathan,” Benaiah said.

  “But he won’t leave the king.”

  “They might all be there. Even Saul.”

  Eleazar bit into a raisin cake that was apparently so hard that he shouted and spat.

  Josheb threw a rock at him. “Here, eat that. Better than my wife’s cooking.”

  A man walked up to them carrying a satchel, and Benaiah held up his arm. The physician unwrapped the cloth from around the wounds, saw the oozing pus, and sat back on his heels.

  “How long ago did this happen? And what did it?” he asked.

  All of the men pretended to ignore him. Physicians were never popular in the army, or in the rest of the tribes for that matter, since many saw it as a lack of faith in Yahweh to have their illnesses tended. Fighting men just saw it as weakness.

  “Six days and a foul beast. Sounds a lot like Shammah’s week with a woman.” Josheb ducked the blow this time.