Warrior Poet (23 page)

By now, dread and embarrassment had chilled David’s zeal. Feeling ridiculous, he cursed himself silently for being a proud fool. He took a step forward, sliding his feet to keep from getting tangled. It was as clear to him as it evidently was to Abner that he would fall on his face if he took a normal step. The general stared at David, lifting his eyebrows emphatically, willing him to speak. Though he was second-in-command, Abner no longer dared, since the onslaught of Saul’s fits, to contradict the king.

His heart thundering in his ears, David finally said, “You have honored me, my king, but I have not had any experience with this armament.” He tried to swallow, but his mouth was too dry. “I am but a shepherd, and I am used to the weapons of a shepherd. Please allow me to fight with those I have tested and mastered.” David’s face flushed. He wanted desperately to wipe the water from his eyes.

The king strode forward and placed his hand on David’s head. Saul lifted David’s face with both hands so that David was looking into his eyes. The old warrior bent down and kissed David on each cheek. The king’s lips quivered, and the muscles along his jaw were clenched.

“You may do as you have asked. You are a hero in Israel,” whispered the man who had once been David’s hero. David’s eyes stung, and his chest burned with joy at words he had dreamed about hearing his whole life.

“Thank you, my king,” David managed to whisper, placing the sword back into Saul’s hands and pulling off the heavy coat. As he walked out into the heat of a cloudless Judean afternoon, David knew that he would gladly die for this man. The only thing in his hand was his shepherd’s cudgel, and slapping against his thigh were the sling’s leather straps.

Not wanting to be confronted by his brothers, he ran down a narrow defile, out of sight of most of the Israelites and the Philistine monster. There were some surprised oaths and exclamations as a few soldiers caught sight of him heading into the valley.

David bent down next to a creek bed. The winter rains had not yet come, so the creek was barely a trickle. He let out a quavering breath and stretched out his sling hand. It was shaking. He needed only five stones, but they had to be perfect. He could not allow himself to be rushed.

It was impossible to block out Goliath’s taunts. They were amplified by the hills on each side, transforming them into an astonishing weapon. Though he was not tired by the brief run David noticed that his breathing was coming in short gasps. He forced himself to take in long, slow breaths.

When David had stood on the northern summit of Elah, the Philistine’s mocking words were fearsome, but not quite so intensely and personally threatening. Now that David was on the same level with the bronze-covered giant, the fierce voice was devastating.

David focused on locating the smooth stones. On their size and weight rested his life and that of Saul’s entire army. His defeat would most probably mean the death of the king as well as that of Jonathan, who was becoming more of a friend to him than a prince. And, as if this were not enough, failure would most likely bring down destruction on the entire nation.

While four stones would suffice, David wanted five. One for the giant, one for his shield bearer—who held his own spear—two for the hulking brothers looming nearby, and one just in case.

Always take one more than you need
was the slinger’s rule, whether you came from the hills of Judah or were part of the elite corps of Benjamites. The joke was ancient but carried the old warrior’s wisdom:
You never want to be caught without your stones
. On the practice field with Jonathan, it was commonplace to hear a slinger yell, “Why one more than you need?” followed by the swaggering response: “You never know when you’ll need the extra stone.”

The briefest smile touched David’s lips, then vanished with another thunderous bellow.
Maybe this is the real point of the joke
, he decided, placing the fifth projectile in his pouch.
Laughing takes your mind off the terror
. Bowing for a quick prayer, he picked up his shepherd’s rod, stood, and followed the bend of the creek to meet the giant.

Still hidden by a craggy wall of rock, David examined his opponent. From this distance—around eighty paces away—the giant loomed like one of the massive, ancient terebinths sprinkled around the valley. He was an astonishing sight—almost twice as tall as David, and three times heavier. Not only was he enormous, but he also was covered from head to foot in burnished metal. His armor glowed in the hot orange sunlight.

David estimated that the fine mail draped from throat to knees, by itself, must weigh as much as he did. And the giant’s shins—nice targets—were sheathed as well. David could make out the large point of a thick javelin protruding from the quiver on Goliath’s back. But what concerned him was the spear that towered over his armor bearer. Its chiseled head was big enough to tear David’s body in half.

“Send out your hero!” bellowed the giant.

David let the rod in his right hand slide down so that its knobby head rested against his fist. It was a twig in comparison with Goliath’s weapons. The brute could snap it with his thumb and forefinger.

“Are you nothing but an army of old women? Where is the might of Israel?” The giant’s taunts were drowned out by the laughter of thousands of Philistines along the southern ridge. They outnumbered Saul’s army three to one. The pounding of fists against bronze breastplates made the valley floor tremble.

Goliath swung his sword in wide, sweeping arcs. The giant was powerful and loud but did not appear to be the most coordinated of fighters. There was a spastic unpredictability to his swings that would have made him look comical were he not so terrifying. To David he seemed to be an embodiment of those ferocious summer storms that unexpectedly lashed the Judean mountains. Goliath was at the same time fascinating and horrifying.

“You boast of your God—well, I defy you and your God!” The last three words were almost a shrill scream.

David blinked in dismay. It was as if Goliath had delivered a slap to the side of his head. The challenge could not be ignored. He drew in a shaky breath and stepped into the open. Both the giant and the soldiers lining Elah noticed him at the same time. It was as if the air had been sucked out of the valley. The stunned silence seemed to stretch forever and was finally snapped by an incredulous roar. It was the incoherent sound of rage and shock. It was the most humiliating thing David had ever felt, and it was made worse by the almost palpable disbelief of the ten thousand Israelites who flanked him to his left. He could feel Eliab’s eyes stabbing him. He felt naked, humiliated, and completely alone. It was then that he felt his knees begin to tremble.

As he choked down his mounting panic, waiting for Goliath to address him, David noticed that the Philistine had foolishly chosen to face the descending sun in the western sky. Observing the tilt of the head and almost choreographed motions, David recognized that this giant intended to both frighten and dazzle the onlookers. A needle of doubt pricked him: behind the bluster might very well lurk a cunning intelligence. The rays of the sun reflecting off his bronze armor, from helmet to shin greaves, made him shine like a god. His swarthy, clean-shaven face, set off by the blazing metal, made him look not quite handsome, but awful and formidable.

The giant turned to face the Israelites. “What is this?” the brute screamed, his entire body shaking David squinted; his eyes were burning. The sun glinting off Goliath’s armor made him shimmer like a mirage. Shaking his head in disgust, the Philistine turned sideways, ignoring his challenger and directed his wrath at the Israelite soldiers flanked along the northern hills.

It was painfully obvious to David that the giant was seeking to humiliate him.

“Am I not Goliath of Gath, the Philistine champion?” he roared. His clean-shaven face and sensuous lips were a sharp contrast to his coarse, guttural roar. “What is this litter’s runt you have sent to face me? Do you take me for a nipple-sucking private that you challenge me with this child who looks to be more girl than man?”

Goliath drew his curved sword and shook it at the army. “Are you making sport of me?” Spittle flew from his mouth. “Look at this weakling you’ve sent against me. Is this what serves as a champion in Israel these days? And his weapons!” He snorted, aiming the tip of his sword at the young shepherd. “He comes with a stick and a stone to try to break my bones!” At this joke the Philistine threw his head back to expel a shrill rasp of laughter. It was like a saw squealing as it cut through resistant wood.

The skin on the back of David’s neck crawled. The Philistine hordes on the incline to David’s right erupted. He whispered the warrior’s prayer, his eyes clenched in fierce concentration. As if he’d heard the petition, Goliath grew still, lowering his sword. He dragged a hairy forearm across his lips, wiping away the spittle.

The back of David’s throat burned. It was that unmistakable stench of black smoke and rancid meat. And this time it was affecting his knees. They were trembling. A wave of panic made the glowing figure swim before his eyes. Only one thing came to mind—the warrior’s prayer. Desperately he whispered, “Lord Sabaoth—
Lord of the heavenly hosts
—deliver me, for I trust in Your name.” He repeated it several times, trying to quiet his mounting fear.

Goliath was staring at him intently as if measuring him with his eyes.

David’s heart sank. From this distance, eighty paces away, he could make out no crack in the giant’s armor. All hope and confidence left him. He clenched his teeth to keep his jaw from quivering. Gathering his last fragments of courage, he pushed his foot forward, the sling heavy in his left hand.

Leering, Goliath gestured at the shepherd’s rod. “Am I a dog, that you come at me with a toy? Dagon curse your impudence to the abyss! Come to me, and I will give your sweet, young flesh to the birds and the beasts.”

With ease of practice, the Philistine thrust his sword into its scabbard and pulled the spear away from his armor bearer, who was standing in front of him. Goliath widened his stance, thighs and calves bulging. Shifting his left foot forward, he centered his weight on his back foot. He held the weapon horizontally, then tossed it lightly into the air, finding its balance. The weight of its bronze head, almost as large as David’s, made the pole bow deeply as it fell back into his hand. Snorting with satisfaction, the giant motioned insolently for David to approach.

The young shepherd inched forward, sweat running down his back, as he still tried to locate a weakness in the armor.

Unable to restrain his excitement, the giant threw back his head and bellowed.

The sound of hunger and derision turned David’s insides to water. He no longer cared whether the Israelites could see his terror. His breath was coming in gasps. It was suddenly clear—there would be no deliverance. There was no chink in the brute’s armor.

All that was left was to run.

His fingers loosened on the braided thongs, and the stone fell out of the leather pouch. As he turned to escape, Goliath drew back his spear, and a triumphant cry echoed off the valley walls.

And then David felt a hand on his back.

David twisted his head to look behind him, and at that instant, from the corner of his eye, he saw Goliath’s throwing arm bend backward as the giant let out a derisive cry.

Chapter Twenty-Five

There was no one behind him. Still, the force of the shove knocked David down and sent his rod spinning crazily away from him. He caught himself with his outstretched hands as Goliath’s spear thrummed past him. The giant let out another roar; it was an explosion of outrage. Scrambling to regain his balance and get to his feet, David felt the stone that had slipped out of his sling. It was under his palm. He closed his fingers over it and stood up.

Though his eyes told him he was alone, David felt a distinct presence next to him. He was certain it was the angel who had appeared in front of the ark. Dust kicked up at his feet, and a strong breeze undulated and whirled around him, exactly as it had when that man-eater had charged up the hill toward him and Jahra. He had forgotten the unusual wind, and it had never occurred to him that it was the work of an angel. Only this time it was more personal. And by its mass, David sensed that the angel was at least as tall as the Philistine trying to kill him.

A Voice entered into him. It had no specific content. Though it was calm, confident, it was slightly disconcerting, for it contained ripples of amusement. For the briefest moment he was annoyed. Was he once again being mocked? But then he realized that the joke was not on him but on the bronze-sheathed braggart in front of him. David felt a flash of pity, which was extinguished immediately by a white-hot flame that rose from the soles of his feet and flew up into his chest. He had the sensation that his hands and arms had grown heavier, infused with power.

Goliath had pulled his javelin loose and was poised to hurtle it at David, but suddenly he recoiled. The Philistine warrior stood absolutely still, his right arm bent at a throwing angle, his mouth open in an expression of disbelief.

Bold words massed, then burst from David’s mouth. They singed the air and resounded off the sides of the narrow valley. “You come against me with sword and spear and javelin, but I come against you in the name of Yahweh Sabaoth—the God of the armies of Israel whom you have dared to insult.” His voice had taken on the same resonance as that of Samuel’s when the old prophet anointed him king. “Today Yahweh shall deliver
you
into my hand, and I shall kill you.” As he shouted this challenge, he carefully slipped the smooth stone back into his sling.

Rage was billowing inside him. He hurled back at Goliath the same taunt the giant had used moments earlier. “I shall cut off
your
head, and this very day
your
dead body shall be food for the birds of the air and the wild beasts of the earth.” Then, fixing Saul’s army with a ferocious glare, he shouted: “And all the earth will know that there is a God in Israel! And all of you will know that it is not by sword or by spear that Yahweh gives the victory.” The Israelites stared back at him in astonishment.

David swiveled his body and pointed toward Goliath and the swarm of soldiers massed along Elah’s southern slope, their bronze helmets glittering in the afternoon sun. “And let it be known this day that Yahweh is Lord of the battle and that He will deliver you—all of you—into our power!”

Before the last word was out of his mouth, David was running. His first strides were short and compact; then when he was within thirty paces from the stunned Philistine champion, they lengthened. Goliath’s mouth had sagged wider, revealing ragged yellow teeth. David could no longer feel the ground, nor could he feel his left arm. He could only hear the sling humming next to his left ear.

Now!
came the quiet command. Rather than releasing the pressure of his thumb and forefinger, he did something he had never thought of doing—he leaped, throwing himself into the air as he let the thong loose.

There was a satisfying thwack as the stone flew straight at the gaping giant. It struck the top of his bronze nosepiece, but instead of careening away with a loud clang, it made a dull, metallic thud that reverberated through the valley. It was the sound of a javelin penetrating a breastplate of iron. Goliath’s head jerked back. He staggered but did not fall. David, still running, was close enough to see blood pouring down the face of the giant, bathing his eyes, dripping off his nose.

The monstrous warrior righted himself, shook his massive head, and blinked to clear his eyes. He tried to speak, but no sound came. Goliath’s armor bearer dropped the heavy shield, pulled out his sword, and with backward strides shuffled quickly toward the Philistine army.

Goliath took a step forward, then another. On the third step, he began swaying from side to side. It was both terrible and spellbinding. He tried to lift his javelin, swayed once more, then slowly bent forward at the waist and collapsed, arms splayed beside him.

The impact knocked Goliath’s helmet into the air along with the javelin. They were still rolling away from the defeated champion when David ran up beside him. He gripped the hilt of Goliath’s curved sword, yanking it out of its sheath. There were bubbles forming on the giant’s lips as he labored to expel one last taunt. David stood above him, holding the sword high with both hands. Borrowing Jonathan’s war cry, he screamed,
“Yahweh Sabaoth Immanuel!” The Lord of the heavenly hosts is with us!
And with one stroke, he drove the blade through Goliath’s neck, plunging its edge into the ground.

When he lifted his trophy by the hair, the Israelites began to shout deliriously. Opposite them the Philistines were screaming with terror. From both sides of Elah came the sounds of hysteria. Saul’s troops flooded into the valley as the Philistine soldiers fled up the southern slope as quickly as their heavy armor would allow. David dropped the giant’s head and joined the pursuit, enveloped by the cries, “The Lord of the heavenly hosts is with us!”

Around him were jubilant yells, screams of rage and pain, and roars of men in hand-to-hand combat. He was surrounded by milling, desperate, grasping warriors. Here and there, dispirited Philistines had turned to make a halfhearted stand. Two-handed, he swung Goliath’s bloody sword. The sharp blade sliced through shoulders and necks. Bodies fell, and he kept running, his pulse racing with a violent joy. As the blade did its brutal work, he knew with a clear certainty that he’d been born for this.

And with that realization, as he thrust and parried, swung, cut, and jabbed, the words of a battle prayer began taking shape, each phrase in time with the sweep of his sword.

Slaughter them, God, before Your people forget!

Harry them with Your power and strike them down,

Lord, our shield!

Sin is in their mouths, sin on their lips,

do let them be caught in their pride!

Destroy them in anger,

destroy, until they are finished,

until You are acknowledged

as ruler in Jacob

to the remotest parts of the earth!
51

Yes, he had been born for this.

By the end of the day, thousands of the enemy lay strewn on the road to Gath and Ekron, the twin pride of Philistia. When the Israelites reached those walled enclaves, they turned back to take advantage of the easy plunder from the huge Philistine encampment bordering the valley.

As evening fell and the troops made their victorious march back to their homes in Israel, happy villagers swarmed them. Women streamed ahead, singing and dancing. There were at least thirty celebrating with tambourines, harps, and lyres. They spun and whirled joyfully in the vanguard. One of them broke out in a song that was picked up by the other women as the dancers twirled, their arms raised to heaven.

Saul has killed his thousands,

and David his tens of thousands.
52

At first, the words made David swell with pride. The soldiers around him laughed, pounded him on the back, and yelled for him to lift Goliath’s head again. But as the singing continued, David became increasingly uncomfortable. He wished they would stop before Saul’s royal caravan made its way to the front for its triumphal entry into Gibeah. His only hope was that the king was asleep.

David turned to look at the covered cart festooned with flowers and draped in banners. Walking next to it were Commander Manoah and General Abner. They appeared to be in a heated conversation. He was not surprised to see Eliab at Manoah’s elbow, staring resentfully in David’s direction. Abner was thrusting his hand toward either David or the singers. Manoah grabbed a banner from a soldier who was waving it wildly. It had been stitched from two pieces of cloth into a flag with horizontal bands of light blue and white. Holding it aloft, the commander began pushing through the column of soldiers toward David.

Manoah’s face and tunic were spattered with blood. There was a circular indentation around his sweaty crown where a helmet had been pressed down over his head. He had to shout to be heard over the yelling and singing. “I would suggest that now might be an excellent time to lead the army in a victory chant.” Manoah nodded in the direction of the women, his eyebrows lifting with clear intent. “Make it short and make it … simple. Remember, these are soldiers, not singers.” His words sounded like an uncle’s jovial advice, but they could not mask the furrows of worry over his eyes. “I would be quick about it,” he said, handing the banner to David.

David knew what the chant would be before his cousin left his side. It was powerful and memorable and—as instructed—easy to learn. The idea came from the stories of the Canaanite conquest that had thrilled him as a child. It was a paraphrase of the words Moses shouted whenever the ark of the covenant set out ahead of the Israelites on their winding pilgrimage to the land of promise.

Let God arise, let His enemies be scattered,

let those who hate Him flee before Him!

Over Israel His splendor, in the clouds His power,

the God of Israel gives us power and strength.

Blessed be the God of Israel!
53

The bloodied warriors standing next to him took up the chant as David raised the flag and waved it in sweeping arcs, keeping time with the triumphant words. Soon the entire army was repeating the chant in a roar that drowned out everything else.

But it was too late.

Later that night after the feasting and regaling had ended, his arm worn out from having to repeatedly lift Goliath’s head for the giddy soldiers, David was dragging himself to his room. Several times he had to lean against one of the pillared archways to maintain his balance. A hand grabbed him as he reached for his door latch. He stumbled, almost hitting his head on the wooden frame.

“It’s me!” hissed Jonathan, warding off an ineffectual blow.

David tried to clear his bleary vision. “I’m glad to hear it,” he mumbled, holding the doorjamb to steady himself. “It’s me, too,” he added with a weak grin.

“Let’s go inside. There is something I have to tell you!” The urgency in Jonathan’s tone shot a brief current of worry through David’s numbed brain.

“Very well, then, but stop pushing me,” he grumbled as they entered his chamber.

Jonathan shut the door and leaned in toward David, putting both hands on his shoulders. “Listen, this is important!” he said, giving him a shake. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

David blinked and tried to give him an encouraging smile.

“I was inside the cart with Father as the women were singing. And—as you can imagine—he was livid. The song convinced him that you have designs on the throne. He began swearing that he would never let it happen; that you had stolen the affections of the people; that he could not trust you.” David tried to defend himself, but Jonathan kept talking over him. “I know he is also furious at me because he does not think that I care about keeping the crown.” The anxiety in his face reminded David of Manoah’s expression when he handed him the banner. “He didn’t say it, but I’m sure he intends to kill you,” Jonathan concluded.

The mist was slowly lifting, and as it did, a pain pierced him. During the months in the palace, Saul had become more like a father to him than a king. And David had begun to hope that perhaps Saul had begun to have paternal feelings for him. The king had said as much on several occasions. And David had tried to convince himself that Saul’s affection was too strong to be breached by a little ditty sung by a handful of foolish women.

But with Jonathan’s words, something broke inside him, and a sob rose into his throat. David stumbled, and the prince had to grab him to keep him from falling. Jonathan mistook his response for the effects of the wine and lifted a jug of water. “Bend over,” he ordered, pushing David’s head over a large basin and drenching him with its contents.

“I may need to learn the art of deception, but you will need to learn to hold your drink,” Jonathan fumed, dousing him with another jug full of water. “I’m going to have the servants bring a drink that will clear your head.” As he walked out of the room he added, “If Father calls for you tonight, take great care; you will need to have all your wits about you.”

David had dried his face and wrung the water from his hair when the servant boy arrived. He handed David a stemmed blue glass. It was full, and through the translucent sides the liquid was the color of green-brown sludge. David closed his eyes and swallowed all of it in two huge gulps. It was vile and so spicy it made his eyes and nose run, numbing his lips and tongue. He pushed the glass toward the servant and poured water into his mouth to quell the fire. Within moments he was so alert that even his fingernails were tingling.

David began pacing back and forth, trying to release the energy crackling inside him. He jumped and grabbed one of the beams that transected the ceiling of his room, pulling himself up and touching his chin to the wood. He had done this fifteen times when Dishon swung the door open. The bald guard gaped as David dropped down to the floor.

“You are needed in the king’s chambers,” he said, giving David a questioning look.

David took a moment to catch his breath. “How is the king doing?”

The guard stared impassively at him, then gave the briefest shrug. “The king is as he is. You shall see soon enough.” It was impossible to tell if this was a threat or a warning. Dishon spun on his heels and marched across the courtyard.