by Cliff Graham
There was good news. They were bringing chariots. The trade road carved through the valley was passable for chariots, but they would be useless in an open fight. Surely their commanders knew that. The Hebrews were at their best when they could turn the massive, clumsy nature of the enemy against itself.
Eleazar watched the sentry glance back toward the boulder one more time, his face uneasy. With a clenched jaw, the young man pulled his helmet straps down near his ears to secure his helmet tighter and settled back in with the rest of the army. A few of the officers snapped instructions in their tongue that Eleazar assumed were warnings to be alert at every moment.
The breakaway formation of charioteers and infantry snaked forward along the bed of the creek. Farther up the valley, it would eventually pass under the ridge of a hill that, years before, had been the site of Philistia’s greatest defeat. A barley field had been planted since that day, Eleazar had noticed earlier when he was sneaking up on the army, and he now imagined it basking in the sun as though it were trying to hide the history of the spot.
Eleazar could not help but smile when he had passed the legendary field where the two champions had met and the young shepherd had made his magnificent stand with a sling. It was a day Eleazar would never forget, the day that kept him believing that David would always come around no matter how far he strayed. Just a young regular soldier in Saul’s ranks that day, only there to please his father, Eleazar had seen the covering for the first time.
The barley grew near a place between the ridges where water runoff would be most advantageous. Not the best place for a crop normally, as floods could wash it away, but an attempt by the farmers to gather as much water as possible in the drought. It also formed a natural pincer that forced the regiments to condense into tight ranks to move through. A highly defensible position if one was in need of it.
When the last of the Philistine advance party had moved out of sight around the bend in the valley, Eleazar let go of the boulder and dropped to the ground, careful to keep the boulder between himself and the sentry now lazily swatting at flies. Eleazar’s knees crackled, and he winced. He had been on the rock longer than he realized. The sea breeze picked up, arriving at the same time it always did, the middle of the afternoon, and the sun baked the portion of the valley exposed to it. The air of the forest was cool and dark on his water-starved flesh, and Eleazar enjoyed it for a moment, wondering if he could ever relive the memory of this valley enough times. Then he shook his head, knowing he needed to hurry, because that same shepherd boy was now his commander, and he would be waiting for his report.
Even so, he waited an hour longer to ensure that rogue scouts were not waiting to catch him spying, then trotted back into the forest.
TWENTY-EIGHT
The caves above Adullam were impossible to spot from the valley. The slope rose sharply through dense undergrowth on a mountain buried deep in the forests of Judah’s northern tribal lands. The land had never been cleared. Many thought the woods were haunted. Native Canaanites did not want to disturb the forest spirits and rarely ventured into them. The Philistines suspected there might be Hebrew hiding spots in the region, but every attempt to penetrate the thick growth had met with discouragement and occasionally disaster. An entire platoon had once been lost without a trace during the reign of Saul, courtesy of a feisty band of bandits who eventually moved south to Ziklag with their leader. David had used this area to his advantage many times, discovering the paths that led to the caves and using them to hide troops whenever moving through this part of the country.
The entrance to the main cave itself was a tall crack in the cliff face. It was used by their army when there were operations in the north, its proximity to the major valleys and trade roads making it an ideal hideout. David had found it when running from Saul, and here Eleazar, Josheb, and Shammah had found David years before.
In the clearing near the entrance of the caves, Josheb spotted Eleazar emerging from the trees.
“How many?”
“Ten divisions on the plains. I couldn’t count the archers. There is already a smaller force moving up the Rephaim. Champions and giants. Everything we love about fighting Philistines.”
“Chariots?”
“Yes.”
“Praise Yahweh for that. Good to know that some things never change.”
Eleazar slid down the wall of the first cave on the path. The Israelites always approached it from the south, which meant they were rarely seen by enemies approaching from the west, as the Philistines always did.
“They’re going to set up their base in the Rephaim and then isolate the Jebusite city before attacking Hebron. The invasion of Judah will be easy picking. I would sell a daughter on it,” Eleazar said.
“You wouldn’t get much. Better go tell him.” Josheb nodded his head toward the forest.
“He’s not in the main cave?”
“No. He said he would be praying in the forest. He might be passed out from thirst. When I told him that the men were going through their water too quickly, he repeated his vow to abstain from drinking until there was enough for them. It’s foolish, but it worked. They haven’t exceeded their rations since.”
“Why would he —”
“Does anything he does ever make sense? At least he didn’t make us sing it.”
Eleazar nodded. He rocked to his feet, his body tired from running since before daylight.
“Should I wait for him to finish?”
“No, we need to plan.”
Eleazar rubbed his forehead. “I assume the well is dry.”
“Our men are thinking about drinking their own urine. So, yes.”
“How much longer do you think we can go without water resupply?”
Josheb shook his head. “Day or two. They can live past that, but no way they could fight.”
“Any news from Shammah about more troops?”
“No, but it’s only been one day. And more troops won’t do any good anyway without water. He’s probably praying as well. This whole army should have been priests.”
Eleazar walked toward the trees, crossing the clearing where the five hundred men who could be mustered from Hebron were inspecting weapons. The Benjamites among them were now examining bowstrings, testing the tension and rubbing oil on the strings to prevent them from becoming brittle and snapping in the dry weather.
The approach of evening made the area peaceful, and Eleazar stopped to collect his thoughts before proceeding into the forest. He had hard news to give his king, the man he had known as his commander for many years, long before there were thrones and kingdoms, and he wanted to be sure that he drew on the memory of those days for strength.
He thought of the morning he, Josheb, and Shammah had arrived at the caves, long ago now. Eleazar and the other two had been removed from Saul’s army because of their loyalty to David. David had been the commander of their unit in Saul’s forces, and under his leadership they had done things that men were not supposed to be capable of doing, great feats of valor and courage so magnificent …
He shook his head and kept walking.
Men looked up from their work as he passed, but before they could rise in respect he waved them down. He was one of the Three, and it was difficult to escape notice. Eleazar left the steady clamor of the field, nodding to the sentries perched high above on the top of the cliff. From where they were, they could see in every direction, all the way to the Rephaim, the region Eleazar had just come from. They nodded back respectfully.
The first of the foreigners that comprised David’s bodyguard greeted him inside the wood line. They called the challenge, and Eleazar gave the response word. The guard knew who he was, but Benaiah’s discipline was ruthless, and any infraction in procedure in regard to approaching the king meant harsh consequences. The man who stepped from behind a tree was a Gittite, Eleazar noticed. A Philistine. Eleazar thought again about how strange it was that the king’s hated enemy also made up his bodyguard.
The man nodd
ed a greeting. Eleazar returned it.
“He did not want to be disturbed, sir.” The man’s eyes were glazed and his throat croaked from dryness.
“He needs to know this.”
If it were any other soldier in the army, the Gittite would have held firm, but this was one of the Three, and after hesitating, he stepped aside. Eleazar thanked him and continued on through the forest. He knew where the king was, because it was the spot he always came to when they were here and he wanted to be alone.
The trees and brush began to clear as Eleazar walked farther in, until he found himself on the edge of another cliff, one that rose from the valley below to a narrow point surrounded by jagged stone walls. The cliff faced north, and Eleazar could make out hazy ridges in the distance lining the Elah and Rephaim Valleys, and somewhere in those valleys was the monstrous Philistine force. Eleazar knew the advance corps he had seen was only one of many. Issachar scouts would come with new reports every day.
Philistia had dominated the lands of the Hebrews since the Gilboa disaster seven years before, but before his death, Abner had managed to drive them back to the plains with little more than a scrap of the old army. Now they were coming again. It would be nice to have the old war horse now, Eleazar thought.
He paused to let his eyes adjust to the late afternoon sunlight after emerging from the forest.
He was not the only one still lamenting the recent loss of Abner. Eleazar pushed aside the anger creeping over him, grateful again that Joab had been left behind at Hebron.
Somewhere a bird cawed. Insects were beginning their evening swarming. Golden light sprinkled the landscape below him, the trees glimmering with the soft sea breeze rustling their leaves. It was an idyllic spot, and Eleazar understood why the king enjoyed this place. He walked along the cliff face until he had come around a small bend, and then he saw him.
David was kneeling, holding the carcass of a bird in his left hand and a dagger in his right. He was facing a small altar he had built, clearly preparing to make a sin offering to Yahweh. Eleazar wanted to speak up to prevent such a heresy, as only priests were supposed to offer sacrifices, but he was mesmerized by how passionately David was calling out to the heavens. He shouted and cried out all of his sorrows, including many things Eleazar had not known about, and it was anguishing to hear.
David dropped the dead bird, apparently deciding not to perform the sacrifice himself, however fervently he wanted to, and the quiet sounds of evening replaced the sound of his shouting. David stood and gazed for a long moment at the distant ridges angling toward the center of the hill country. He held his hands over his head. The voice began to sing, an aching melody of praise and grief. Eleazar had not heard this song, so he remained hidden and listened to the words.
It was an offering to Yahweh, to go instead of the bird, and it pierced the land around them with its beauty. Eleazar closed his eyes and let it soothe him, remembering long-ago ages when he walked with his father and listened to the old stories, the stories of his people and the God who delivered them.
Eleazar’s heart was full, and for a few moments, he was no longer on a ridge in drought-ravaged country in an army surrounded on all sides by their hated enemy, but with his father, in the good days …
… the great man is standing in front of the assembly. He holds out his arms wide to me. The people sing, are grateful for his generosity, the most revered man in the area. Men cry out to him, give thanks to Yahweh for him. The town adores him. He is a mighty general and warrior. If I am like him in every way, perhaps he will be pleased with me.
He embraces me, I smell the warm, sweet smell of the forest on his cloak, the heat from his neck against my eyes. His embrace is true. Burning tears in my eyes. Father is pleased. I did nothing special, and yet he is pleased. My heart will burst — father is pleased.
Father raises his voice and proclaims to the assembly that I am a man. But I did so little, and he is so great, and he tells them how proud he is of me. The crowd cheers. It was nothing, but father is smiling at me.
He leans in close and says something. Say again? The noise.
“I am proud of you. You are a man.”
“It was nothing, father, just a leopard that threatened a child. This feast was not necessary.”
“A man proves himself in the small battles, my son. If your courage holds in the small battles, it will hold in the great ones.”
He covers my face with his hands, speaks a prayer of gratitude to our God, he of the mountains …
David’s song ended, and there was perfect stillness. Even the birds and the insects had stopped moving to listen. Eleazar opened his eyes, wiped them with his sleeve, and waited. He wished his father were with them now.
David remained with his hands up in worship. He stared hard at the distant ridges, his mouth moving and muttering words that Eleazar could not hear.
Then it was over.
David dropped his hands and turned back to the forest. As he approached the tree Eleazar leaned against, he stopped. “Your report?”
Eleazar cleared his throat, wary. “Ten divisions on the plains.”
David closed his eyes and shook his head. “Yahweh, deliver us. What else?”
“A battalion in the very front, approaching the Elah, moving toward the Rephaim. Champions and giants, infantry and archers. They aren’t carrying enough supplies to occupy our lands, but enough to tell me that they are making camp. Enough to take the city if they are well led.”
“Chariots?”
“Whole platoons of them. Still haven’t learned.”
“Other movement?”
“None that I saw, but our scouts keep reporting other regiments like it. They’re amassing from all over Philistia. Seems they don’t trust you.”
David stared at him, thinking, and Eleazar had to fight to look in the amber eyes. Then the king softened his stance and sighed.
“I think it will be wise to leave part of the army in Hebron,” Eleazar said. “It might be tough to hold them out here with only a few companies. Men might stand a better chance behind the walls. We can only suffer one Ziklag.”
David nodded. “Send a messenger to notify Joab and Shammah that they need to leave a force behind.”
Eleazar watched him nudge a rock with the tip of his sandal and stare at the ground. Then he knelt and cleared the surface of the ground with his hands until there was a span of dirt a square cubit in size. He picked up a nearby stick and tossed it to Eleazar, who knelt beside him and began to sketch.
“This is the Rephaim, and here is the saddle that leads to the Jebusite city. They are two days of mass-marching away from Jebus with that main force, assuming others are going to be joining them along the way and force them to go slower. When the rest of the army gets here, we can use the Sansan-Gilo hills to screen our movements and meet them where the valleys approaching Jebus converge. They will move cautiously. For all they know, all of your regiments are either inside that fortress or are lining these ridges leading up to it. They’re proud, but they know about us. When I was scouting I overheard them talking about how one Hebrew attacked a pride of lions with his teeth.”
“I wonder if that is the only thing Benaiah will be remembered for,” David chuckled. “So, they don’t know there is only a handful of us, Philistine divisions are moving up the Elah from the plains, a battalion in front, but a larger force is gathering. Anything else?”
Eleazar hesitated, not looking up from the ground.
“Water is dire. I took one of my last rations when I returned from the scout this afternoon. It might be days before we can drink again.”
“Yes. There wasn’t time to bring much. The spring has not flowed in months here. I sent out squads to get water from other brooks, but they haven’t returned. Philistines might have captured them,” David said, then exhaled.
Eleazar studied him and noticed that his lips were cracked and dry. He looked worse than any of the others in the camp. Because he gave his men all of his rations.
“It was a necessary risk,” David continued. “When the report came that the Philistines were pushing, I did not have time to confirm that the spring had water in it.”
Eleazar waited for further questions, but David only studied the map sketched in the dirt in the fading light. Moments passed. Eleazar pinched the bridge of his nose and squinted away sweat.
“Yahweh will deliver them to us,” David said with finality.
“Your orders, then.”
David stood up. He kicked one of the rocks. “Until Shammah can get more troops here, we can’t stop them from invading. But we can cut them off from the Jebusites.”
Eleazar glanced at the map. “At the boundary?”
David nodded. “They won’t push south or start a siege of Jebus unless they have free access to the valleys and plains for reinforcements. If we strike that advance force hard right away, the main force will hesitate and give us time to gather. They won’t penetrate farther into the hills of Judah without a supply route. Abner taught them that much.” He glanced at the map on the ground. “If we cut them off here —” he pointed to a spot on the map near the entrance of the Elah Valley — “we can stop more of them from coming into the pass. The troops already in the valleys will turn to hit us, but at least it will give Josheb and the Thirty time to get to the Bethlehem road. A scout reported movement from the Bethlehem garrison. It makes sense. Any Philistine reinforcements will have to come from that direction. If the Thirty can hold, we can eventually fortify those routes with slingers and archers.”
“There are rumors that the Sword of Dagon is in Bethlehem. They won’t miss any of the action of an invasion.”
“The Thirty will be able to handle them.”
