by Cliff Graham
… lift the flap of the tent and duck inside. All is dark but the oil lamp, flickering in the middle. Rug spread out, cushions finely woven, soft as wine and shimmering like jewels. There she is, in the corner. Honey, grapes from distant vineyards, and other fruits I do not know. The idols surround her — here they worship their gods. Her face just out of the light …
Eleazar woke with sweat drenching his blanket. His heart was beating fast. Every vein in his body throbbed, but his fingertips were cold, as always. Icy cold, unable to grip anything. He rubbed his hands together under the warmth of the blankets and listened to his wife’s breathing. She slept soundly, never waking unless disaster was upon them. Sometimes not even then.
He slid out of the blankets and walked to the window of his house that overlooked the streets below. After staring at the brilliant stars over his town and instinctively checking every corner of the street unlit by the moon, he picked up a small clay pitcher that sat on a ledge next to the basin, then stepped through the doorway out onto his roof.
Eleazar sat on the brick ledge that lined the top of his house and took a drink of the water. A short one, though, because he did not want to drain their ration any more than necessary. As a member of the Giborrim, his family was allowed more than the common citizens, but he and the others refused. Another small way to protest David’s new selfishness. The lower-ranking families had to drink too.
Eleazar’s wife was skilled. She knew how to measure and ration to each member of the family according to their daily need, and they never seemed to run out. Much of the baking had to be reduced, and the bread was dry where it had once been moist, but they were managing.
The worst drought in anyone’s memory, including the oldest of the elders, had put the farm and herding land into turmoil, and despite the lift in spirits following the recent coronation, many more of the tribesmen had been coming to the city to load their donkeys and camels with water pouches filled at the community wells.
Wells were drying up across the land. David ordered rationing at the Hebron wells, but it was only a matter of time before those wells ran dry also. Judah and Israel had both suffered bitterly from the drought while the surrounding nations, including Philistia, enjoyed abundant rain.
Eleazar feared the day he knew was coming — the day that they would have to load their ox carts with water vessels, load up their camels and donkeys with water pouches, and trudge to the plains of Philistia with their heads hung in humiliation to beg for water. Shame piled upon shame.
“We are their vassal,” he spoke aloud to no one. “We live among them, our women whore themselves out to them, and now we will have to crawl into the royal courts of Gaza and Gath like harlots and beg for access to their wells.”
Saying it made him angrier. The endless compromises would have to end. He would say something to David himself if he had to. Had the water in it not been so valuable, Eleazar would have thrown the vase into the street in disgust.
“We crawl. We beg. We lose heart and run. Never did that in the old days,” he said aloud.
“You never had time with me in the old days, either. It’s okay, though. You have handsome brothers.”
Eleazar felt soft arms wrap around his waist. She was wrapped in a blanket, which soon covered him as well.
He pulled her onto his lap. She laid her head against his shoulder and nuzzled against him.
“I would offer you tea,” she said.
“Save it for yourself. I might be leaving soon.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know. The borderlands perhaps. To convince your father that it was right to unify the kingdoms under David.”
“He might have you killed.”
“And who will be fighting for him?”
“My mother.”
Eleazar kissed the top of her head. “I will concede that. She is meaner than —”
“Just because I said it does not give you the right to.”
“Fair enough. I will express it this way. If our son fights even an ephah as fearsomely as his grandmother, we will be marching to conquer Egypt by the first time we celebrate the Feast of Tabernacles.”
Rizpah moved her hand further up his chest and touched his chin.
“How many more children do you want?”
“I am doing my part. About the only thing I have been doing worthwhile since we have been here.”
“Don’t worry. I am sure you will leave again soon.”
“It’s not you or the children. David is not the same. We need to be … out there again. The kingdom will suffer.”
“I know,” she said. “He needs you to do what you do. All three of you.”
He held her, savoring her touch and the softness of her neck.
Then Eleazar saw the soldier running up the street.
I am running. Leaping over stones and trees, running as fast as I can, and I am terrified. Saul is hunting me, hunting my men. I see the top of the mountain next to me, wonder if I should climb, descend. Keep running! They are coming, they are coming! Eleazar pushes me from behind, yells at me to go faster, I see Josheb turn, fire an arrow at our pursuers, but they are coming, always coming, faster! What did I do? Why does he hunt me, Lord? Run faster!
… the rock is near, a fortress, the wilderness of Maon pours out beneath me. We must flee! Must go faster! Eleazar, help me, brother! Josheb, Shammah! My brothers are running. Michal loved me once, I loved her, but she betrayed me. Run, fool! Yahweh, strengthen my legs, carry me across the heights, teach me your ways, make me run faster. He is coming. The forest is ahead, if we can reach the forest we can evade them, but they are so close, on the other side of the mountain waiting for us, we are trapped, he has trapped me again. Yahweh, Abba, deliver me …
… running, slower, growing weary, running slower, need to move my legs. Stop hunting me! Yahweh, make him stop hunting me. I see the forest ahead, the Lion is in the forest, his jaws are open, he is roaring, but I cannot see him anymore. Jonathan is dead, slain on the heights. Cannot do this without him. Cannot hear Yahweh anymore, cannot feel the covering, send me the covering, God of my fathers, forgive me, send the covering, show me where I have sinned, my people suffer …
“Lord?”
David leaped out of bed and lashed out at the messenger with his foot. The kick sprawled him across the floor. David was on top of him immediately, a dagger pressed against his throat.
“My lord king, I … have news,” the man gasped.
David, angry and panting, released the man and rolled to his side. The woman in the bed shrieked, and David glared at her, trying to bring his sleepy vision into clarity. The woman, a concubine from the harem. Nazreel? Nazira? What was her name? He was in his bedroom, the royal palace, in Hebron.
King of Judah.
King of Israel.
“Lord, my message,” the soldier prodded gently.
Calming down, David nodded. He realized the man had drawn the short lot to be the one to wake him. David leaned against the bed and raked his fingers through his auburn hair. The woman shivered beneath the blanket. David vaguely tried remembering her name again.
“A runner says that Philistines are moving into the Elah. Thousands of them.”
“Philistines live there. They have garrisons. Who told you to wake me for this?”
“Gareb of the Thirty, on the night watch.”
David finally recognized the soldier.
“Eliam.”
The young man nodded. “Yes, lord king.”
Gareb did not indulge in frivolous warnings.
David struggled to his feet.
When David was gone, Eliam turned his attention to the woman in the bed. “Anything further?”
She rubbed her eyes sleepily. “Not yet. But I will let you know if there is.”
Eliam nodded and left.
TWENTY-ONE
Within the hour, all of the members of the war council were in the meeting hall. This time, however, there were no vases of wine or bowls of dates
. Some had been summoned despite being drunk. Everyone was somber, anxious to hear what was rumor and what was truth.
“You saw this army yourself,” David said to the messenger, who was sitting in the middle of the room, calm at last. The presence of the fiercest warriors in the kingdom and their legendary leader had reassured him.
“Yes, my lord king. I saw thousands of them.”
“Did you count standards? Regiments? Corps? The tents of their priests? Anything?”
“No, lord king, I did not know to do that. I only know that a sea of them gathered on the plains several days ago and are moving into the Elah.”
“How fast were they moving?” asked Josheb, stepping forward and kneeling next to the map stretched across the sand pit.
“Slowly, sir. Some chariots, some scouts moving into the village of Adullam. They are not in a hurry yet, but they are moving.”
David paced around the back of the group. Others asked question after question of the messenger, and he answered as best he could, but he was a courier, not a trained military scout, and his inability to provide detail was giving them a frustratingly vague idea of what they were up against.
David dismissed the messenger, and the boy bowed low before leaving. Eleazar watched him go through the door before he said, “This is why we have scouts on the borders. Whose men are supposed to watch that valley?”
“Those are Joab’s men,” answered Josheb, still crouched next to the map and staring at it hard.
“They might be dead. Philistines could have hit them before they could get a message out,” David said, pausing long enough in his pacing to stretch out his sore shoulder.
“Philistines aren’t that efficient. Someone would have gotten away. Or a civilian could have escaped and notified us. You know how it is. Every time we are invaded, a stream of refugees crowds our city,” Eleazar said.
“But that boy was a runner,” David said. “There might be people coming; he just outran them. He said he saw the army today, so that means he covered the entire distance from the Elah in just half a day. That’s a pace we maintain. It might be another day or two before anyone comes for help.”
“How can we trust his word?” asked Shammah.
“I’ve used him. You can trust his word,” Eliam said. Heads turned. Normally, in war council, when the king and the Three were conversing, everyone else remained silent until they were called upon. Eleazar glanced at David, expecting him to reprimand Eliam, but the king had not even looked up from his pacing. David had been especially accommodating of Eliam since the day he had heard that Eliam was the last person to speak with Jonathan.
“Talk again without permission in this chamber and it will be the last time you enter it,” Eleazar whispered to Eliam. Then he glared at Gareb, Eliam’s training master, as if to ensure that a reprimand would come later. Gareb rolled his eyes and nodded.
Then, aloud, Eleazar said, “Lord king, I can go to the valley tonight to spy on it in the morning. I can confirm whether the Philistines are there, and how long till they are deep into our land. You can stay and rally troops.”
David looked at Bether, one of the northern generals who had come in for the coronation.
“How many men do you have nearby?”
“I can have fifty thousand in three days. They are out in the villages on leave.”
“But how many here in town, tonight?”
“Only one company. We thought we would have more time to muster —”
“We have no more time. None. Does everyone here understand that? I need to know immediately how many troops I can lead out of this city this very night.”
Josheb drew a breath. “Lord, we don’t know for certain whether —”
“Abiathar?” David stopped pacing in the corner and looked around for the priest.
“Lord, I will seek word from Yahweh about this.” The priest shuffled out of the room and closed the door behind him.
“They are coming.” David was now staring out of a small window in the corner that was opened each evening to let in the cool desert air overnight. He placed a hand on the sill and nodded to himself. “They are coming. I know they are. Yahweh has willed it.”
David closed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair. He scratched his beard. “I need to know the number of every man who can draw the sword. Every man who can march from this city tonight in an organized and intact manner, including the troops who watch the city walls.”
Men spoke up in turn around the room, calling out from the shadows the numbers under their command, and as they did, Eleazar felt the discouragement become palpable. When the last commander gave his report, Eleazar added up the numbers in his head and winced.
“Five hundred,” David said. “Five hundred men who can fight. How long until others can be ready?”
Again, answers came from around the room. Eleazar shook his head. It would be a week before a large force could muster in any semblance of order and discipline. Although there were a hundred thousand Israelites who could draw the sword, they were scattered over the countryside.
The standing force had been given a week to celebrate with their families before being recalled into the new units of a standing army. The people’s army, over half of the total troops, those who could put down plowshares and come at a moment’s notice to assist the new standing army, had not yet been organized and would likely cut each other down before they did any damage to a professional Philistine force.
David listened to each piece of bad news with only a nod, as though expecting it.
“We should wait until we can build up a proper army, as we spoke about today,” Bether suggested, assuming he now had permission to speak freely.
“We don’t have that kind of time.”
“Why, if I may ask?”
David sighed. “This was going to wait until we had come to agreement on how the new nation is going to be governed, but I suppose I need to tell you now.” He walked to the map and pointed at a mark at the end of the Rephaim Valley. “We are taking the city of Jebus from the Jebusites. That will be the new capital. It is in politically neutral territory. Benjamin surrounds it, so that will make you northerners happy, but none of our tribes have ever controlled it. It is high and defensible and has water year-round. We can strike anywhere in the kingdom within days if we are threatened.”
And strike elsewhere as well, Eleazar thought, but said nothing.
“But if the Philistines reach it first, we will never take it from them. We have to stop them. At all costs. If they can fortify Jebus, they will be able to completely isolate us from the north. They already have a garrison at Bethlehem.”
Another general spoke up apprehensively.
“The Jebusites have a fortress on the hill nearby that has never been conquered. How are we supposed to take it and turn away the Philistines?”
“We have to. Philistines first, then the city. By the end of the campaign season.”
Now there were chuckles of disbelief around the room.
“But lord, you said yourself that we won’t be able to stand up a full army for many months!” said the general.
“We won’t attack the city until then, but we have to stop the Philistines from securing that area. And we have to do it with what we have.”
The northern generals were exasperated. They shouted complaints as a group, declaring that they would not throw their warriors to slaughter at the hands of the pagans.
“The Giborrim will be there. I will lead the Thirty myself,” Josheb said over the commotion.
“Lord Josheb, we all know of your exploits. My son sings the songs about you. But stopping thousands of Philistines and taking an impenetrable fortress in the same campaign season is beyond even what you and the Thirty can do,” Bether said.
“We do not have a choice. Philistia cannot control that pass and that city. It would be the end of the kingdom.”
“It can’t be done!” Bether cried. “We have no supply chain! No water! The drought h
as destroyed everything. Our men will die of thirst!”
“Have you ever had a wife raped, Bether? A daughter? An infant child picked up by his feet and his head dashed against a rock? It will happen again if we don’t march tonight,” Eleazar snapped.
Bether stared at him, jaw clenched. “I have indeed, Eleazar. We did not have the services of the Lion of Judah to protect us over the past seven years in the north.” As soon as he said it, the northern general Bether lowered his face.
The room was deathly quiet at the challenge. All eyes went to David, who stared at Bether.
“My lord king, I —”
“You are correct, of course,” David said. He walked back to his window and looked out once more, his footsteps echoing on the smooth marble floor. Eleazar randomly thought about how much had been spent on building this house, using gold captured from years of raiding and plundering. In the old days.
The door opened, and everyone turned to watch the priest enter the room. He said nothing, but the look on his face confirmed their fears.
Softly, David’s voice emerged from the dark corner. “Brothers, it has been a long time since I was worthy of leading men into Yahweh’s battles. I beg your …” He paused, shame on his face. “I beg your forgiveness. But I need you this night. And, I will not take a drink of water until we have stopped them. The lowest baggage carrier will drink before me.”
“Don’t be insane,” Josheb said, but David raised his arm to cut him off.
The shadows of the men against the wall were still. The torch was dying. Eleazar waited for someone to speak in response.
Josheb stood. “Well, we are wasting time, lord king. Give us your orders. We are with you.”
Gareb pulled Eliam aside as they left the council chamber. “You know better than to speak up without being addressed.”
