The Book of God: The Bible as a Novel

by Wangerin Jr. , Walter

  MICHAL WOKE SUDDENLY out of deep sleeping. Something had shocked her awake, but she recalled no sound.

  Then she sensed motion. Then someone was standing over her. Then the man knelt down, and it was her husband David.

  “Your father,” he whispered, “just tried to kill me.”

  “What?”

  “Hush, Michal. This isn’t the first time. He threw his spear at me.”

  “Kill you, David? This isn’t a dream or a misunderstanding?”

  “He ordered soldiers to guard the doors. I bolted from his room, but he knows I haven’t left the fortress.”

  Michal realized that her bedding was wet. The moisture was warm, and so she hadn’t noticed before; but now the blanket was sticking to her stomach.

  “David! You’re bleeding!”

  “My left side, under the arm.”

  “Oh, David! If you don’t save your life tonight, you’ll die tomorrow.”

  Michal got up and began to tear the linen bedding into strips. “Tie these together,” she said. She tore more strips, these much wider. “Raise your arms.” She washed the wound, a long horizontal slice, then bound his ribs, his back, and his breast with the linen bandages. She went to her window and opened the lattice wide.

  “Send for me,” she said.

  David kissed her, then went out the window and down the side of Saul’s fortress by a linen rope.

  Send for me, she said, believing she would see her husband again in a few days.

  Michal pulled the lattice closed and went to work. She laid a teraphim, a wooden image, on her bed. She stuffed a small bag with goats’ hair, and placed it at the head of the teraphim, then covered both with clothes and blankets. Finally she went to the corner of the room and trimmed the wick of her lamp so that it shed but a dim light.

  Almost immediately guardsmen burst into her room.

  Michal cursed them. “Can’t you see he’s sick?” she said.

  The guards retreated from her ferocity, but then Saul came into the room with torches.

  “I will see him sick or well,” he said. “And if the poor man has bled too much to move, then we’ll take the whole bed downstairs!”

  He snatched back the blankets. The head-bag bounced softly away, and the teraphim lay blank in bed.

  Saul covered the top of his head with two hands and howled: “Michal! How could you deceive me? How could you give my enemy time to escape?”

  “He told me to,” she said. She cringed from her father as from a madman. “He said to me, ‘Why should I kill you?’ And he said, ‘Let me go.’ Father, Father, what else could I do?”

  “TONIGHT HE PLANNED the deed!” David was out of breath, crouched in the shadow in Jonathan’s courtyard. “I opened the door to his chamber, and there he sat, framed and facing me, the spear drawn back, his eyes blazing. I leaped to my right but caught the spear in my left side.”

  Jonathan touched David’s breast. Bandages.

  David said, “Truly, as the Lord lives and as your soul lives, Jonathan, there’s but a step between me and death.”

  “I believe you,” Jonathan said. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Tomorrow is the new moon. I will not be at the feast with your father. I will be hiding by the heap of stones in Ribai’s field. When your father misses me, tell him I went to Bethlehem to celebrate the feast with my own family. I won’t appear for three days. If your father accepts that, then the evil spirit has come and gone, and it will be safe for me to return. But if he continues angry, then this evil is of his own will. In that case, Jonathan, keep faith with me. Love me still. But if you find that I am guilty, slay me yourself. Don’t let Saul do it.”

  “Oh, David!” cried Jonathan. “How could I ever hurt the hairs of my beloved?”

  David said, “Who will tell me if your father answers you roughly three days through?”

  Jonathan said, “I will.”

  “How? I won’t be able to show myself. And you will be watched.”

  “I know the heap of stones,” said Jonathan. “On the third day I’ll go to Ribai’s field with my bow. I’ll bring a boy with me to gather the arrows I shoot, and I will call loudly to him. If I say, ‘The arrows are near you,’ you will know that all is well. My father is kind again. But if I say, ‘The arrows are far beyond you,’ stay hidden. Go in secret. For the Lord has sent you away.”

  When they had said these things, David went out and melted into the night.

  Jonathan stood alone in the center of his courtyard. He thought he would go inside and sit. But he didn’t. By sunrise he was still in the courtyard.

  IN THE EVENING of the day of the new moon, the king sat down to eat. As always, he sat on the seat by the wall. Jonathan sat opposite. Abner sat by Saul’s side. David’s place was empty.

  They passed the meal in silence. King Saul said nothing at all regarding David.

  But David’s place was empty the next night, too.

  Saul said, “Yesterday I thought David was unclean and couldn’t eat the feast. That can’t be a problem today. Why isn’t he here this evening?”

  Jonathan said, “David asked leave to go to Bethlehem. He said that his brother commanded him to be there for a sacrifice which his family holds at this time of year.”

  “Well, let me tell you what you are, Jonathan,” Saul said, standing and facing his son. “You are a bastard! You’re the issue of a perverse, rebellious, deceitful woman. You are no child of mine! Don’t you understand? As long as the son of Jesse lives, you will never succeed me. Your kingdom will never be established! Jonathan, find that pretender! Fetch him to me, and I’ll kill him myself.”

  EARLY THE THIRD DAY, Jonathan stood in a green field, facing a rough heap of rock and the brush that surrounded it. He saw no motion. But somewhere in that place his friend lay concealed.

  Beside him was a boy.

  Jonathan said to the boy, “Do you see these arrows?”

  The child nodded.

  “How many?”

  “Three.”

  “I’m going to shoot all three arrows at a mark beside that heap of stones. Run and find them for me.”

  The child nodded again and stood still, waiting.

  “Boy!” Jonathan barked, and the poor child jumped. “Run! Go! And don’t come back until you have found all three arrows! One, two, three!”

  The lad began to run toward the stones, and Jonathan notched the first arrow. With a fierce expression, he drew the shaft to his ear and shot. The arrow flew far past the stones. He shot the second arrow even farther. The third, when he had drawn it, trembled in the bow; his arms trembled; he didn’t look fierce now; he looked sad. Jonathan knew he should simply let his brother vanish. It was not wise to see him. But how could he let him go and not see him?

  The lad was just coming to the heap of stones. Jonathan shouted, “The arrows are beyond you! Beyond you!”

  The child glanced back and ran on.

  “Farther!” yelled Jonathan, then he drew the third arrow and shot it short. It struck by the stones. As if he hadn’t the voice to call anymore, he said sadly, “I’ll help you,” and he walked toward the stones himself, peering narrowly at the thicket surrounding them.

  He knelt among the bushes. “David?” he whispered.

  Soon David was kneeling in front of him.

  Jonathan gazed at the lean, freckled face a while. “So you know,” he said.

  “Yes, I know.”

  Suddenly Jonathan embraced David, and they clung to one another.

  “I understand something now,” Jonathan whispered into David’s ear. “What Samuel did when he poured oil on your head: he was anointing you. He was preparing you to be the next king in Israel.”

  David pulled back, frowning. “You’re the son of the king. You will succeed your father.”

  “No…no, I won’t,” Jonathan said softly. “You will. My father has helped me to see that. I think it is his final favor to you—that insight. I only pray that when you come into your kin
gdom, you’ll show me the love of the Lord and will not kill me, David.”

  “Kill you? Jonathan, kill you? How can you think such a thing?”

  “I live in a king’s court.”

  “Oh, Jonathan, I’d rather my eyes were burned in their sockets!”

  “Shhh, I believe you. And I bless you, David. May the Lord be with you even as once he was with my father.”

  The two men sank back on their heels and gazed at each other. Jonathan heard the distant crashing of the child still searching an arrow. Slowly he stripped himself of his robe and handed it to David. Flecks of amber in his friend’s bright eyes! Shining eyes. How white was David’s skin!

  Jonathan said, “Take it as a token, and go in peace. Haven’t we sworn in the name of the Lord, The Lord be between me and thee, and between our descendants, forever? Yes. David, go in peace.”

  He rose to his feet and shouted over the bushes, “Here it is. Here is the third arrow, boy!”

  IN THE MONTHS that followed, rumors reached Saul in Gibeah regarding David.

  “David stayed in Nob with Ahimelech the priest, who gave him the holy bread to eat, the bread of the Presence. And when he left, he took the sword of Goliath the Philistine.”

  Again: “David was seen in Gath, the city of the Philistines. He was acting the part of a madman, scratching marks on the doors of the gate, drooling and gibbering! And Achish the king said, Do I lack madmen, that you have brought this fellow here to haunt my house? So they drove David away.”

  And again: “David has gone to the cave of Adullam! He’s gathering a band of bloody adventurers. Soldiers of fortune! And those who follow him are men in distress, men in debt, men discontented with their lot.”

  Rumors filled the kingdom. David had captured the imagination of the people, and everyone knew some story about him.

  “David and his men have fought against the Philistines at Keilah.”

  Again: “David lurks in the strongholds in the hills and the wilderness of Ziph.”

  And then again: “David and his men are in the wilderness of Maon!”

  And Saul couldn’t help it. A man obsessed, he responded to the rumors.

  With regard to Nob and the priest who gave food and a weapon to David: Saul led an army there, killed Ahimelech, his family, and all eighty-five persons who served the holy place. He slaughtered Nob, men and women, children and sucklings, oxen, asses, and sheep—he put them all to the sword.

  With regard to Keilah the king rode there as fast as he could, with his own swift army. But by the time he arrived, David had vanished.

  When Saul heard that David was in Maon, he mounted a strong horse and rode all night, black fire in his eye. When he came to the mountain in that wilderness, he began to circle it—until a messenger came from the north, saying, “The Philistines are attacking us!” To the north, then, Saul rode in frustration.

  But soon another rumor came:

  “While you, King Saul, were marching round the west side of the mountain in Maon, David and his men were hiding on the east side of the same mountain.”

  IN THOSE DAYS the Philistines gathered their forces for war, intending to crush Israel once and for all.

  Each of the five cities sent its armies northward by hundreds and by thousands. Chariots ground over the flat, dry earth; horses and mules and donkeys and soldiers caused the ground to shudder; the air felt heavy, as before a storm. This vast company assembled at Aphek, then marched north through the plains of Sharon and east into the Jezreel valley.

  A small division of Israelites was encamped by the fountain in Jezreel. In fact, that division was the pretext and focus for this tremendous military display. The lords of the five cities declared that Israel threatened communications between them and their allies in Beth Shan.

  So the Philistines established camps north of Jezreel, on the southern slopes of Mount Moreh at Shunem. They transformed the face of the mountain into a city, tents and pavilions and roads and watchtowers, all networked with trenches. There had not been so concentrated a preparation for war since they had gone to fight Israel at Michmash.

  When King Saul heard of the mobilization of Philistine armies and their invasion of the Jezreel valley, he mounted his horse and rode north blowing the horn of war, desperately trying to inspire the men of Israel and to raise an army.

  But the militia grew slowly, and then it moved sullenly. Israel was tired. These wars were unwinnable. This enemy had deep roots and magic branches. Cut one and two grew in its place. Besides, there were in those days some serious questions about the ways of kings in Israel. He will take your sons—

  Saul’s leadership had lost fire since Michmash. That man was more weary than any—his face heavy and seamed, his mind divided, his heart consumed by troubles the people could not name. Sometimes he emerged from his tent in the old style, furious and magnificent, blazing like Moses on the mountain. More often his eyes were dead, like ashes.

  Thus the king led Israel to the Plain of Jezreel. He encamped on the north side of Mount Gilboa, more than ten miles away from the Philistine armies.

  And then, in the night, Saul himself rode over the plain to Mount Moreh to see what sort of fight this would be.

  He saw a mountain burning. He saw myriad Philistine fires. He saw ten thousand thousand troops gazing into flame and laughing. He saw a smoke go up that blackened the moon and swallowed the stars of heaven. Saul’s knees buckled. He kneeled and cried out: “O Lord, what shall I do?” He repeated the prayer over and over again, “What shall I do?” But the Lord did not answer him.

  Saul mounted his horse and rode back to his own camp. There he inquired of the Lord again, this time by means of the Urim. But the Lord did not answer him.

  The king called prophets to himself. By the prophets he begged the Lord to tell him what he should do in the face of such Philistine mobilization. But the prophets could say nothing, and the Lord did not answer him.

  Saul began to fast. He would not break his fast, and in that state, by dreams, he supplicated the Lord.

  But the Lord God remained silent and did not answer him.

  Then the king said to his servants, “Find me a medium. Find me a woman who can talk with the dead.”

  So haggard was his manner that no servant could refuse him or pretend not to know there was sorcery in the land.

  They said, “There is a woman at Endor—”

  But the king was already gone.

  NOW, SAUL COVERED himself in the rough leather of a goatherd. He dressed as if for cold weather, pulling a hood over his head, and rode north around Mount Moreh and the Philistine horde. He passed them in shadows by night. Outside Endor he hid his horse in a grove of trees, then he walked barefoot into the town. He came to a low stone cottage. He knocked on the door.

  Someone lit an oil lamp inside.

  The door opened a crack.

  “What do you want?” A woman’s voice.

  Saul said, “Divine a spirit for me. Bring up the one I name for you.”

  “What, are you trying to kill me?” hissed the voice. “You know the king outlawed mediums and wizards. Is this a trap?”

  “Ahhh!” cried Saul, a spasm of anguish. “Please! I know the king. I know him well, and I swear no punishment will fall on you if you do this for me.”

  “How can I? I’m not a medium.”

  “You are—or you wouldn’t be so quick to smell a trap.”

  “Go away!”

  “For God’s sake, woman, help me! There is nowhere else I can go.”

  Slowly the door opened inward. Saul ducked down, pulled his hood close, and entered, murmuring, “Bless you, bless you, the Lord bless you—”

  “Sit there,” the woman said, pointing to a stool in the corner of the cottage. She placed the lamp in the center, then sat in the opposite corner. She was soft and round, a woman of maternal proportions. She spread her knees to sit. She bowed her head and pressed her fingers into her eyes.

  “Whom shall I bring up for you?”


  Saul swallowed. He leaned forward and looked intently into the woman’s face. “Bring up Samuel the priest for me,” he whispered.

  The woman did not rock. She did not mutter a foreign language or else make pagan signs. In a soft voice, as a mother calls her child to a difficult task, she said, “Samuel, Samuel.” There was a deep breathing silence in the cottage. Again, she said kindly, “Samuel.” Again, the room held still. Saul was panting.

  A third time the woman called, “Samuel! Samuel!”—and almost immediately another voice came out of her mouth, saying, Saul, Saul, is that you?.

  Suddenly the woman looked up and shrieked. It was genuine terror. “You are the king! Why did you deceive me? What are you doing?”

  Saul could scarcely contain the emotion mounting within him. “Go on! Go on!” he cried throwing back his hood. “The king swears safety if you go on: what are you seeing?”

  The woman had begun to tremble. Tremendous forces were colliding in her cottage. Slowly she bowed her head, and then she pressed her knuckles deep into her eyesockets.

  “I see—”she said. She was sobbing. “—I see a god coming up out of the earth.”

  “Don’t be afraid,” Saul whispered. “What does he look like?”

  “Like an old man. A bony old man rising from the ground. He’s wrapped in a torn robe.”

  “Samuel,” Saul hissed. “Samuel.” He slipped from his stool and bowed down.

  The strange voice said, Why have you disturbed me?

  Saul said, “Oh, Samuel, I am lost. The Philistines will attack tomorrow, but God has turned away from me! The Lord will not answer me! Samuel, tell me what to do.”

  The voice said, Why do you ask me? You know that the Lord has already given the kingdom to David.

  “Ahhh, let it be. Then let that be,” Saul whispered. He rose up on his knees. He folded his hands before the woman who had driven her eyes back into her head. “I will not dispute what has been done. Only, tell me about tomorrow. What can I do to save Israel?”