Day of War (8 page)

An Amalekite soldier walked past him, his head coming no higher than the Egyptian’s elbow. The man’s eyes darted toward him quickly, and he picked up his pace. The Egyptian’s great size had been the subject of whispers in the ranks; his elegant grooming, the use of kohl and galena to paint his eyes, and his fine white clothing would have been openly mocked were he not the largest, most intimidating man in the raiding force. He had gleaming bronze skin, bulging oiled muscles that rippled with veins, and a clean-shaven head; there was no hair on his body of any kind.

The Egyptian had overheard the conversation about the Hebrew warrior. It reminded him of the only time he had fought a Hebrew, on the coast of the sea when he was among the pharaoh’s bodyguard. There was a Hebrew mercenary in the bodyguard as well, and on a whim one day while hunting with his falcons along the coast of the sea near Aqaba, the pharaoh had ordered them to fight for his amusement.

And they had fought. Across the sand, under the sun, into the sea. The Hebrew had talent, but he was untrained and rough, wielding his weapons heavily like an infantryman instead of nimbly like a master of arms, and the Egyptian had defeated him. Disgraced, the Hebrew had departed.

The Egyptian walked back to his own small tent, enjoying how
he towered over the other soldiers as he passed them. Once inside, he laid down, resting his head on the wooden pedestal that served as his pillow, and listened to the light breeze moving through the camp.

It would be an interesting report to make to Pharaoh when he returned. The god-king would want to know about Hebrew warlords and skilled fighters before any invasion commenced.

Far to the north, deep in the mountains of Gilboa along the southern side of the Jezreel Valley, a campfire burned. The night was bright and clear and brought an occasional chilly breeze, causing the fire to flicker lazily. A good night for a fire, the soldiers all agreed, and they had been given permission to make one, despite being on the march.

Another, smaller fire burned just inside a small stand of trees on top of the highest ridge, with the commanding view of the Jezreel and of Mount Tabor. The two men who warmed themselves by this fire were dressed in the typical clothing of a soldier in the Israelite standing army on campaign: light wool tunics cinched up for when they put on armor before battle, covered with cloaks to ward off the surprise spring chill. They each had neatly trimmed beards. One of them was of noble birth and the other was a commoner, but they were talking and laughing like old friends.

A young man named Eliam sat in the forest nearby, trying to listen to their conversation as he quietly stitched his tunic, damaged
during the day’s training. In his twenty-fifth year, Eliam was keenly aware that he was serving Yahweh’s anointed king only through the good graces of his well-connected father. It was an opportunity purchased by a great many head of cattle and not through any merit of Eliam’s. He had narrow shoulders, felt like he plodded awkwardly when he walked, and had not noticed any servant girls looking at him. In all, Eliam was unsure of his place both in the court and in society, but he had determined to make the most of any opportunity he was given.

Eliam had been in the court of King Saul since childhood. He was not a slave or typical tent servant, spending his hours in menial labor. He was, more or less, an understudy to the various soldiers coming and going from the court. Eliam’s father wished him to become a great war leader, like the legendary prince Jonathan, in order to attain the highest positions of respect and influence in the kingdom.

Eliam had been privileged several times to sit under Jonathan for instruction. Tall and strong, looking every bit the great hero he was renowned to be, Jonathan taught Eliam about the foreign alliances their nation faced—the tension with the Moabites, the tribal bickering between the north and the south, the bloodthirsty Amalekite frontier, the ever-looming shadow of the Philistine colossus.

The lessons were grand and Eliam soaked them in, but they were remarkable for what they did not contain: any descriptions of the man David and the bond of brotherhood that most of the kingdom knew David and Jonathan shared. Whenever Jonathan began to describe a particular battle or encounter that Eliam knew involved David, the prince would catch himself and go silent or change the subject.

It was David who dominated all comings and goings of Saul’s court, held at the tamarisk tree on a hilltop in Benjamite country, as it had been for forty years. Even though David had not set
foot under the tamarisk tree in a long time, everything about him seemed to be on Saul’s mind. Where was he? Who was sheltering him? How large was his army? The questions were tossed around war councils night after night. The generals, led by Jonathan and a brilliant commander named Abner, pleaded with Saul to leave David alone. There were far graver threats, they said. Philistia would eventually come at them with everything in its power, and the Israelites still had not learned how to forge iron to compete with them.

At first, Eliam was not bothered by the king’s erratic behavior. He wrote it off as the stress of leadership and believed that Saul would eventually forget about David and come around. But as time passed, Eliam saw the king lash out unprovoked and ever more violently. Eliam heard things beyond simple screaming and shouting. He could swear that he’d seen strange images in the darkness of the royal house, heard voices and utterances from unknown and terrifying depths. He had sometimes seen the king stumble along the hallways, staring vacantly, talking with someone who was not there.

David was in hiding, but that didn’t stop the people of the kingdom, many of them fed up with Saul’s irrational behavior, from choosing sides between Saul and David. Eliam had noticed that even the ever-cheery Jonathan had become morose. The presence of his own son sent Saul into rages. Eliam would often wake up late at night and hear the sounds of the king thrashing about his palace, screaming and shouting at his heir, accusing him of aiding their enemy and denying himself his own throne. Jonathan did his best to calm him but was frequently rewarded with a hurled jar.

Now, sitting near Jonathan himself, Eliam hoped to learn more about what troubled the king. Instead, he found that he was listening to old war stories. The man with Jonathan was Gareb. He had arrived just before they set out from Saul’s court, saying that he’d
heard Prince Jonathan was going to battle and that he’d be a lesion on a leper if he would stay behind pushing a plow when he did.

Eliam had been watching them laugh together for hours, like brothers. He continued mending the tunic and tried not to show that he was listening.

“That was Michmash, not Jabesh-gilead,” said Jonathan.

“No, it was Jabesh-gilead. I remember the fool who thought he could make the shot with the arrow at four hundred paces.”

“I forgot about that. Then which one was Michmash?”

“As you killed that man with the rock and he screamed for his mother.” Both men erupted in laughter once more. Eliam was wondering what was so funny about that when Jamaliel walked up. He was the chief cook and oversaw the foreign laborers in the camp.

“What are they talking about?” Jamaliel whispered.

“Battles. Michmash. What really happened there?”

“What do you mean?”

“I know we won, but I always thought Jonathan was behind the front, overseeing the equipment and cleaning up.”

Jamaliel put down the bowl of stew he had been carrying and peered at the men around the campfire. “Did you hear that from the king?”

Eliam nodded. “Jonathan has never spoken of it. I know about most of his other campaigns, but that one seems to be forbidden.”

Jamaliel sat down next to Eliam, rubbing his legs as if they were tired or sore. “The first time Jonathan fought was against the Ammonites in Jabesh-gilead, in the lands of Gad. He was very brave. Saul knew that he needed a standing army, so he rewarded Jonathan with the leadership of a division.”

“How many men were in the army?” asked Eliam.

“About three thousand. Jonathan led a division of a thousand in a campaign against Geba and Gibeah, held by the Philistines. This didn’t sit well with the Philistine rulers, so they ordered chariots
and men to establish a garrison at Michmash after traveling up the Beth-horon pass.”

“Why there? There’s nothing out there.”

“It’s where our people have always mustered for battle. The Philistines knew if they could establish a stronghold there, it would demoralize our troops. It’s also right near the center of the lands of Benjamin—”

“—where Saul is from,” finished Eliam.

Jamaliel nodded. “It was embarrassing for Saul to have his hated enemy camped out in his homeland, openly challenging his authority. He began to lose many of his conscripts to desertion. No man wanted to die in a hopeless cause. I think he only had about six hundred men left in that force when he took his position opposite the Philistine fortress at Michmash.

“Jonathan had secured Gibea with the regulars, so that was where Saul decided to encamp. The Philistines have good spies. One of them must have reported the fighting between Saul and Samuel.”

Eliam nodded. He had seen the old prophet and the king bickering many times. Samuel had even told Saul that he would lose his throne one day because he had angered Yahweh. Saul had in fact angered the Lord on many occasions, but the one most frequently mentioned was when he failed to destroy the Amalekites after being commanded to do so.

Jamaliel dropped some herbs into the bowl, then continued. “Knowing there was trouble in our leadership, the Philistines decided to press the advantage and sent several invasion forces into the land. This left Michmash with only a handful of defenders, but Saul was afraid to attack it even then. He could only move his army a little closer, to a hilltop called Migron.

“The Philistines taunted them across the ridge. Jonathan got tired of listening to it and came up with a plan. He and Gareb, the
man sitting next to him over there who used to be his armor bearer, decided to sneak out of the camp to the south, alone. Neither Saul nor anyone else knew what they were doing. I suspect the Philistines noticed them but must have assumed they were just deserters from the main force, so the two of them slipped into the gorge behind the camp, forgotten. There are cliffs in that area so steep that one could assume they could not be climbed.

“They made their way to the base of the cliffs beneath the Philistine outpost, then climbed up. It must have been scary, weapons weighing them down like that. When they reached the top, they ambushed the outpost.”

“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.”