TEN

In better days, before the darkness:

She holds the child and looks at me. The baby girl stirs in her arms. Another daughter? But there must be sons. Two daughters? I need sons! Her hair is tied up. I love it that way. Perspiration on her face. She smiles at me, confused.

“Are you not pleased, lord?”

“I am pleased.”

Am I? Daughters bring dowry. I will need dowry if I have no sons to work the land. I will fight wars for money the rest of my life. Daughters guiding oxen? They could not lift a yoke. She is still smiling at me. Better look at her. My hand on her head. Such soft hair.

Sherizah says, “Forgive me, lord. I know we need sons.”

Her eyes watch me. She is beginning to cry again. I never like it when she cries. So very tired after a long night of waiting. She cries. She pulls the bundle close. I am not upset, am I?

“It is not your fault, Sherizah.”

She lets out a long breath. Looks away. Tears are staining the front of her shawl. Of course I love the girls. There will be more. Sons will come eventually.

Benaiah gazed at the inside of the tent as it shook with the morning wind. It was still dark out. Something had awakened him. Unable to get to sleep again, his wounds aching, he had lain helplessly while the nightmares found him in the dark, even awake.

Benaiah heard someone clanking cookware nearby. Time to move.

The cold air bit at his skin while he stood and pulled a winter tunic over his head. The wind picked up again and violently whipped the campaign tent. He was grateful for the tent; normally they did not have them because they weighed too much and were too cumbersome for the lightning pace of David’s army. They moved in and out of a town before anyone knew what happened. Like a lightning strike. That had been Josheb’s description, and Benaiah liked it.

His wounds had solidified, turning into something like slabs of limestone knitted into his scalp and arm, and they roared with such pain that he had to sit down again. After stretching his arms out again, Benaiah finished dressing and gathered his weapons next to him: spear, sword, shield, his prized bow, and a lance swiped from a Philistine rack the night before.

He held the spear shaft and felt the balance. The spear was a thrusting and swinging weapon, thrown only when it was unavoidable. The lance was the throwing weapon. He picked up the lance and held it over his shoulder as if he was about to toss it. His shoulder and arm were stiff; he would not be able to put much force into it.

There was another weapon to go into the bundle, and he relished sliding it from the satchel that covered it, running his fingers along the shaft. He had found this root growing with the rock sunken into it. No one could explain how it had happened. But it worked—a perfect war club. He held it lightly against his forehead, feeling the cold knob of rock.

He knew all of the weapons. Few men in this herding and farming culture knew weapons well; even fewer knew more than one. Benaiah knew every weapon—but this, the simplest one, was his favorite.

The others were iron, a benefit of having lived among Philistines. The men of Israel gathered at that moment with Saul in the Jezreel Valley had such weapons, stolen from captured enemies, but they did not know how to maintain them and had no instruments to sharpen them with. Some had figured how to grind the blade on stone. It was slow, and frequently chipped the edge. David’s men were encouraged to keep their weapons in top condition, though it was becoming more tedious using the Philistine smiths to forge their weapons.

He straightened the weapons on the ground, then after grunting in pain a few more times, decided to go for a walk to loosen up. His wounds felt better once he was moving. Outside the flap of the tent, a cold blast of wind sucked the air out of his lungs, choking him. He hated this weather. Spring near the mountains was never one season or the other: cold one day and hot the next.

He heard Josheb shout, “Good morning, brother! Glad to see you awoke from your fainting. There is someone here you must meet.”

Josheb was draped in wool blankets and beaming with his usual good cheer. Next to him stood a man with a cropped beard and fierce eyes. He looked to be in his thirtieth year—as Benaiah was— with a thin scar stretched across his forehead. He was larger than Josheb; he looked at Benaiah from the same eye level. He wore his hair long and had tied it in places, with the locks hanging off his shoulders. His ornate cloak signified that he was a man of wealth. He did not look like a Hebrew. His skin was too light. He was from the north.

“Benaiah son of Jehoiada, this is Keth of the Hittites.”

The man nodded and Benaiah did the same. Hittite lands were in the north of the kingdom. In ages past they had been an enemy to the Hebrews, but some scattered tribes had begun to follow the Israelite religion. David accepted such men. Benaiah gave Josheb a questioning look.

“Keth joined us a few days ago,” Josheb said. “He’s a brave fighter, renowned along the northern frontier as a killer of Philistines, so we’re hiding his identity in the camp. He is even learning our tongue. I told him that we would circumcise him tomorrow, and that Shammah would do the honors.” Josheb laughed at his own joke. Keth seemed to miss the reference, and Benaiah smiled in spite of himself.

Then Josheb shifted somewhat, as though he were trying to keep his next sentence from being overheard. “And Hittites are good with iron, so he has made fast friends with our leader.”

“I have heard about you from your fellow warriors, son of Jehoiada. It is my pleasure to meet you,” said Keth, holding out his arm. Benaiah grasped it and slapped him on the shoulder, then winced when the man did the same. Keth pulled his hand back apologetically.

Josheb chuckled. “Forgive Benaiah; he was butchered by a band of savage rodents a few days ago.”

“Lions. And I won.”

“Winning entails receiving no wounds and hanging their tongues around your neck as a prize.”

The three men walked together through the gloom, picking their way around sleeping men and those just now arising. Benaiah looked across the camp to the Philistine position and saw no one up there yet. The wind must be keeping them inside their tents, he thought, then grinned. David never let weather deter him. Everyone in David’s army would be up and moving quickly, despite having, as yet, no specific orders. One can never move fast enough, David always said.

They passed men chewing on hard cakes of dried bread and, seeking a little variety in their dull wartime diets, bartering with one another to swap fruits and nuts, freshly picked and delivered to them before the strange cold snap had blown in. Several grumbled about being up so early; others complained about the cold morning. One group was tossing pebbles to see who could land one inside the nostril of a soldier who had not yet awoken.

A section leader walked by, saw the sleeping man, and kicked his jaw lightly, causing him to startle awake and swing at his imagined attacker, only to miss and careen over sideways. His pebble-throwing squad mates laughed hysterically.

They came to an opening in the center of camp and stood in front of a set of three tents, held down by ropes but threatening to fly away in the wind. The tent in the middle was larger and designed for meetings. Benaiah saw a crowd of men already gathered in the entrance. He held open a flap, and they stepped inside.

In the orange glow of several torches, he saw Eleazar and Shammah standing around a circle in the dirt where a crude outline of the countryside had been sketched. Josheb bid them farewell and made his way toward the spot. The tent was crowded with leaders of companies, logistics men, and section leaders, all talking at once.

Joab, who had been speaking to Eleazar, arms crossed, shouted for everyone to quiet down. Benaiah searched but did not see David anywhere.

Joab spoke again, loud enough to be heard over the powerful wind outside. “He will be here soon. Stay close and stop cackling like hens.”

The group quieted a little but continued murmuring. Joab was tall and, Benaiah thought once again, insufferably arrogant. Always right there when David looked for a volunteer, stepping in front of others who offered. It was good for a man to be eager, but not at the expense of the efforts of everyone else.

Benaiah turned to Keth, who had been standing quietly in the corner behind him. “What brought you to us, my friend?”

Keth said, “I heard of this apiru named David.”

Benaiah nodded. He had heard the same response from many of the six hundred or so men who had come in from different lands. “Well, we are an interesting group. Half of us are in debt over our heads. Others stole cattle. Some are mercenaries. A more worthless bunch of men you will never meet. But they fight.”

Benaiah was sure that the conversations Keth had heard around campfires the night before had reminded him more of pagans than pious Hebrews. It was an odd bunch for the man who would be king of a united Israel to gather around himself.

“I noticed your men have iron weapons,” Keth said. “I thought the Philistines prevented Israelites from learning the skill.”

“True,” replied Benaiah. “There isn’t a smith allowed in our lands. We have access to smiths because we live in a Philistine city. That’s why David chose Philistia to hide from Saul — he wanted to learn the craft of forging. We still haven’t mastered it, so we threaten to kill a blacksmith’s entire family and that persuades him to keep us armed. David welcomes men like you because his army cannot fight with bronze anymore, and we won’t be able to use the Philistines forever. One day we will have to fight them. Already have, a couple of times. King Achish overlooks it. Philistines bicker among themselves just like we do.”

“I know the forging process. It will be my honor to help however I am able. Although I still do not understand what his purposes are,” Keth said.

Benaiah thought about it a moment. Keth might be a spy. He weighed his words carefully. “He was told by a prophet that the throne of Israel would be his one day. King Saul didn’t see it that way, so men started showing up to join David while he was on the run.”

“On the run?” asked Keth.

“From Saul. He has spent years running from him. Pretended to be insane so that he could hide among the Philistines. He was the greatest soldier in the king’s army, but he was forced to live like a wilderness hermit. A lot of us heard about this and decided that he was our man. We could … understand him. Criminals on the run and all. But he had done nothing wrong. Unlike everyone else here.

“Many are here because they believe Yahweh is with him. Others are here for the money. Others for women. Some want to be in positions of power when David takes the throne,” he said, then looked at Joab again, who was pointing his finger at the table and arguing with Josheb.

“Yahweh is your god,” Keth said.

“He is. He has many names, like El Shaddai. Some are not allowed to be spoken. I have even heard David call him … well … ‘ab.’”

“El Shaddai. I like that. ‘Dwells among the mountains.’ There were beautiful mountains in my homeland. But isn’t ab what children call their father?”

“David says that Yahweh is our father.”

“And you? You are a follower of Yahweh?”

Benaiah hesitated. “Hebrew men are circumcised when they are born, as a sign that we are set apart to Yahweh for his use. But not all of us follow the Law of Yahweh as closely as David does. For many of us, like me, it is simply an old custom of our people.”

“Then why does David have men around him, men he trusts his life to, who do not even worship his god?”

Benaiah smiled. “That is one of many things that cannot be explained around here.”

Benaiah watched Joab rudely pointing directly into Josheb’s face, as though he were a stable boy to give orders to. He frowned.

Keth eyed a soldier in front of them thoughtfully. “There are rumors of a better forging process than simply hewing iron. Some races already possess better metals for their weapons.”

“Perhaps that is why you were welcomed here. Have you met David yet?”

Keth nodded. “Briefly, when I first came. I heard about his fight with Goliath of Gath, even where I am from. The storytellers sing of it.”

“I was not there, but I have spoken to some who were. Goliath had four brothers, did you know that?”

“I did not.”

“He ran out against Goliath with just a staff and a sling. Alone. Against what he thought would be five of them. He assaulted the giant and was ready for the brothers. The brothers must have thought better of it around the time David cut off the Philistine’s head and yelled his challenge to them, covered in their more powerful sibling’s blood.”

“How did he do it?” Keth asked.

Benaiah waited for some shouting in the tent to calm down again. He spoke hesitantly, remembering his encounter with the warrior in the woods. He also wondered again if Keth was a spy. But something urged him onward, to keep telling this man what he knew.

“He calls it ‘the covering.’ I think he is referring to Yahweh, or some type of power from Yahweh. He asks for it just before a battle. He told me once that he asks for it all day long, even when there is no war. He used to, anyway.”

“Used to?”

“I haven’t seen him do it in a while. We’ve been fighting continuously for almost a year, raiding up and down the frontier, and he hasn’t mentioned it. He is more brutal than even he used to be. He even lies to King Achish, our little Philistine overlord. Most of us wouldn’t have a problem lying to a Philistine, but normally David would have.”

“You mentioned raiding. Raiding against Philistia?”

I should not be telling this man everything, Benaiah thought. But then another voice responded, Tell him.

Benaiah felt his neck prickle. He glanced around to see if someone had whispered in his ear. No one there.

“No. Mostly Amalekite country,” he said. “Also Moab and Ammon. I ran into a band of Amalekites several days ago. I think there might be a larger force of them moving into our lands, but they’re so scattered and disorganized that the more I think about it the more it is hard to believe that they could muster enough cooperation to do any real damage.

“We’re fulfilling the command to destroy them that Yahweh gave Saul many years ago. But it also works out well for David—he will give his own men control of the borderlands so that they have even more reason to fight for him. They don’t want their own crops burned by Amalekites.”

“So your god is a god of war, then? Total destruction of your enemies?” Keth asked.

“Yahweh is not close to me. I would not know.”

Keth nodded. Benaiah was grateful that he let it be.

“I have known many great war leaders. Most only want more gold and property. How is David different?” Keth asked.

“He is not a man of peace. He wants to be, but he once said that Yahweh has not willed that for him. Our lands are torn apart. Many suffer, not only from outside threats but from the constant squabbling and bickering between our own tribes. Men die over who owns a quarter of a hillside. Our people need David. He is ruthless enough to stop our enemies, and compassionate enough to judge our people fairly.”

“You seem to admire him greatly.”

“He always puts his men first, genuine destiny pushes him forward …” Benaiah paused. “And he took us in when we had nowhere else to go.”

The two of them watched the frantic activity of men in a foul mood and awake against their will. The tent was becoming increasingly crowded.

Then the tent immediately went quiet. Benaiah turned toward the map where the leaders were arguing and noticed another man among them.

David had entered.

The most remarkable aspect about him, after all the legends had been told, was how young he still was. Some of the men present probably had sons his age. Benaiah himself was older than David, but he felt young when David was around.

David’s beard was lighter than any other man’s beard in the tent, and cropped short for the campaign season, like his troops’. His auburn hair was trimmed short as well. The hair made him stand out. Every man present but David had black hair. His clothing was a simple gray cloak and battle tunic.

His arms, strengthened by years of battles fought long before most boys were old enough to swing a hammer, rippled with hard muscle. Yet he was of average height and did not immediately stand out from other men in the crowd, unlike his tall king. His face was marked by old scars, but he had striking features, much more so than any other man present. Amber-colored eyes looked across the room.

He could play the lyre. He could sing melodies so achingly beautiful that even the hardest warriors would pause and listen. His compassion to the wounded had earned him renown. He prayed loudly and passionately into the night. But there was something in his face during times of battle, such as this, that reminded Benaiah of death. Violence and death. A good face for a warlord, he thought.

The room was still in the presence of the chief. He had that effect, as most men of authority did. There was something about the confident manner with which he carried himself, and the assurance that he knew exactly what he was doing at all times. That no matter what befell them, he would find victory.

And part of it was his amber eyes. The eyes so similar to a lion’s, giving him the title that all around the countryside knew him by — the Lion of Judah. It was a look of power, primal and fierce. He had a lion’s face.

The outlaw commander elbowed his way to where Joab and the other leaders of his army were standing. He nodded greetings, caught Benaiah’s eye, and nodded to him as well. He ran fingers through his beard a moment. They all waited as the wind pounded the tent.

“My gratitude for your perseverance, brothers. I know you have been without information for some time. King Achish has told me that we are not welcome among the other Philistine rulers.”

This was greeted by cheers. David smiled in spite of himself. “As that is so, we will not go to war with them. We will return to Ziklag.” Half of the tent erupted in cheers, the other was silent. Several cursed aloud. Someone shouted over the sound.

“But sir, why bring us all this way? Why won’t they let us come?”

“They don’t think we will be loyal. I couldn’t convince them otherwise. They saw how many of us were riding out to war, and they became afraid. With good reason.” He nodded at the gathered men. “I would be afraid of you as well.”

The soldier was not satisfied. “Then can we do a flank march around the valley and come up on the Israelites from behind? They would be glad to see us. Saul would realize that he needs your help.” This caused voices to rise up again.

Josheb said, “If we flank march against the Philistines, then we jeopardize our homes in Ziklag. Surely they will send this same army against us in the south. Saul has written the fate of his kingdom in his own blood. I like us returning home better.”

Joab glared at him and then at David. “If we go now, we can strike fast. Yahweh will grant it to you.”

Keth leaned in next to Benaiah. “He lets his commanders argue in front of the men?”

“David wants the men to feel like they have a part in their fate. You will notice,” Benaiah nodded toward them, “clean and well-behaved hardly describes our little band. It works for now.”

Keth tilted his head. “He trusts them that much?”

“Some of them he would trust with his life. Some he would spear if they looked at him wrong. He loves them all, but he is a hard man. The only one who could lead them.”

Keth looked back to the front of the tent, measuring this. No sense in hiding it from him, Benaiah thought. He needed to learn their ways if he was to have a home among them.

Joab kept repeating that Yahweh would give the victory. It must have irritated David, who raised his voice in anger.

“Have you asked him, Joab? Did he visit you in your tent this morning and tell you that?”

Joab’s face fell a little. “No, but surely we would win. We have never lost.”

The multiple voices clamoring in the tent had gone quiet.

“I see no priestly garments on you. There is no ephod on your belt. You presume to speak for Yahweh? You speak his name aloud so lightly?”

Joab changed his approach. “But lord, if we just up and leave, what will we do when we return home? Continue raiding barbarian settlements?”

There was some murmuring, but David made no reply. It was his signal that debate could resume. Josheb was about to say something else when Benaiah, deciding the time had come, spoke up. “Lord, I returned from Judah last night. Amalekites might be moving against us.”

David jerked his head up and found him. “Amalekites? How?”

“I fought a raiding party in that village you sent me to. They said they were moving into southern Judah and Philistia.” Benaiah had to shout over the commotion this news caused. “Perhaps as many as a thousand. Mercenaries might be with them.”

David nodded, concern darkening his face, and knelt to examine the sketch on the ground in front of him.

“Lord, that is impossible,” Joab said. “Amalek has been crushed under our feet. No large army could move in such short time.”

“I do not know if the larger force is real or not, but I know I fought a band of them. And as I said, they could have mercenaries with them.” Benaiah glared at Joab long enough to make his point, then looked back at David. “Lord, I agree with you. We need to leave. Now. Our women and children are defenseless in Ziklag. Even if it’s not a serious threat, we need to be sure.”

“I agree, Benaiah. If this Amalekite army exists, then we will meet it. That is all. Get your men. Move quickly.” He thumped his fist on the ground and left the way he came, the tent flap blowing wildly as he walked out into the wind. A noticeable uneasiness descended on the group with the news of Amalekites near their home. Benaiah motioned for Keth to follow him outside.

The army was ready. They walked past men sitting on their bundles of animal pelts and weapons and various other pieces of equipment, waiting for any word from the commanders. Several of the men exiting the tent began to shout the orders, and the men formed up into ranks. Benaiah led Keth to his own tent and spoke to him as he cleared it of his things. The worn-out tent belonged to the Philistines, and he would not need to pack it. David’s men traveled light.

“I know that was strange for you to see,” Benaiah said. “Like I said, we function differently than most armies.”

Keth nodded. “I slept next to a man who was running from a bad land sale. Another was accused of killing a man over a woman. He did not deny it.”

“They probably won’t make good administrators in the royal palace one day, but if you want dead enemies they do just fine,” Benaiah said. He wrapped the last of his things in a wool blanket, covered it with an oiled and tanned hide to prevent water from leaking in, and tied it shut with leather straps.

They stepped back out into the raging wind of the early morning.

Keth asked, “His deputy, Joab? Is he a fighter?”

“He is a fighter. He’s also annoying.”

They walked for a while in silence. “Amalek moves, then. It is surprising,” said Keth as they walked back to the command tent.

Keth wrapped the wool cloak around his shoulders a little tighter. Benaiah decided that he liked Keth. He had a hard grip and steady eyes. And he probably was not a criminal—a relief among these men.

The two of them stopped at the command tent’s entrance and waited.

“Are there no horses for David and his commanders?” Keth asked.

“No. He moves like his men. Eats after they eat. Sleeps after they sleep. The terrain in our lands makes chariots and horses worthless for war. He rides horses only when he needs to cover ground quickly. He wants the men to have ‘feet of iron.’”

“He rode on a horse while marching with the Philistines to this place,” Keth said.

“Maintaining appearances. He wanted the Philistines to think he will fight as they do.” The wind stung his eyes, and he blinked away grit.

David walked out of the command tent, his equipment neatly packed and rolled. He watched the movements of his men with a slight scowl and did not notice Benaiah and Keth nearby. Benaiah recognized the look and decided to leave him be. Joab was nowhere to be seen, probably sent off on some errand so that David could enjoy a moment alone. Benaiah did not envy David what must be a lonely life.

It made him wonder about the odd relationship between Joab and David. Benaiah suspected that David was pressured by his tribe to tolerate him. But Joab was a fighter, he conceded. He could move men.

David noticed them and smiled warmly. He walked over and embraced Benaiah, who did his best to hide his stiff wounds.

“I missed you, brother,” David said quietly. Benaiah could not hide his smile. He knew that David meant it.

Keth stood with his hands clasped behind his back politely. David turned to him. “Hittite, as I said before, we are honored you are here. Yahweh has shown us mercy by blessing us with your presence. Did you find your other countrymen?”

“I did, lord.”

“Tribal men are usually mixed into the companies to avoid playing favorites on the battlefield. Most are from Judah, our largest tribe, but there are equally valiant fighters from the smaller territories. I try to remind them often that while they serve me, tribal identity does not matter. I want you to be my chief armorer and train an entire company in the craft, if you will accept the position. We will fight no more wars with bronze weapons. I am tired of blades that bend when they strike shields.”

David paused a moment, distracted by the way a soldier was packing his gear. “Elon, you’ll never last the day on the march if you wear it like that. Your load has no balance. If you don’t fix it, I’ll be forced to give your crippled carcass to the Philistines. You’ll be no use to me, but you might be their best man.”

Several hundred men had gathered in formation nearby. Those closest, who had heard him, laughed.

He turned back to Benaiah. “That business with the lion. I trust it ended happily for all involved.”

“It did. Took a little of me with it, but I was able to sort it out. Nothing like you in the old days, though.” David smiled at the reference to his shepherding years. Benaiah continued. “More important was the band of ten I found. The wounded man could have been lying about a larger force, but it didn’t feel like he was. Also, Saul has conscripted most of the men. I saw only a few in that town. Mostly old or lame.”

David looked at the ground and nudged a rock with his sandal. They watched while the army finished its preparations. Benaiah could see the mass of men, divided into rows of twenty and columns of fifty. They were cold, stamping their feet and jumping up and down, occasionally grumbling and complaining. Some did their best to keep the laughter going. Others stared quietly and waited for the orders to march back to their homes. The rumors had already begun to fly down the ranks that their families might be in danger.

“I want to reassign you, Benaiah.”

“To a company?”

“No. You will still function mostly alone, but yes, there will be men with you. I need you to organize a personal guard for me.” David continued pawing at the rock on the ground with his sandal. “I don’t like it, but it is necessary for command and control. I will still lead assaults, but once they have begun, I need to see what is happening on the field. I can’t command my army when I am forced to fight through the entire battle.”

It was clear that David hated saying it, Benaiah noticed. It was against everything in him.

“We will still be in the middle of it. I just don’t want to be making command decisions while being impaled on a lance. Our little band has grown too large.”

Benaiah tried to soften the blow. “You honor me. Can I pick who will be in it?”

“Of course.”

“Then I would have foreigners. No men of the tribes.” David and Keth turned toward him.

“Foreigners,” David repeated. He nodded, looked out at the men, then nodded again. “Interesting. As you wish. Have them for me before we return to Ziklag. It really is good to see you again, Benaiah.”

Benaiah saw weariness and stress in the amber eyes. David nodded and walked off to inspect the companies.

“Good thinking on the foreigners,” Keth said.

“We have enough tribal fighting, no need to get into spitting contests about who guards the chief.”

They stood in the gray morning, watching the wind swirl through the camp before pelting them with grit and dust that forced eyes to shut and bodies to shiver. The sun was finally up but hidden.

Somewhere someone gave an order, and the great mass of six hundred fighters began to converge into one snakelike stream moving forward toward the trade road.

Following the marching men, Benaiah’s mind wandered. He thought about his new responsibility. The personal guard needed to be good men as well as foreigners.

He wondered about the Hittite mercenary marching next to him. A friend? Possibly a spy. What kept telling him to trust him?