THIRTEEN

She is weeping. Yahweh has allowed this. Why? I feel the sorrow, but there are no tears in my eyes. It burns, though, burns—and I feel very tired. There is no escape from this sorrow.

Sherizah stumbles blindly into my chest, I place my hands in her hair, press my face against her head. Both of them gone. Amalekites have done this.

Amalekites.

I yell then, I push her away, I find the club …

In the town, the first Amalekite dies loudly, screaming, his throat filling up with blood. I grab his jaw and break it, then club him again. A warrior rushes toward me, and I strike him too, feeling anger and hate and power. I fight more of them, one after another, two or more at a time. Many are dead and I have killed them, and I want to kill more of them. I see an Amalekite child, and strike him down. He would have become one of them one day, and Yahweh desires them dead—not that I kill them for that reason. Yahweh has left me; he is gone. I will kill them anyway. I will kill so many of them that the desert will fill with black blood, and the vultures will greet me, knowing that I bring them more dead Amalekites.

A man surrenders to me, dropping his weapon, pleading for his life. I strike his face, crushing his head. And then I move on to the next with a roar of anger, a wail of grief, and I swing my club …

Benaiah rested, staring at the ground. Three days into the march, and still nothing. No word, no fresh rumors of Ziklag.

And still no bodyguard. He had been drawing up plans for formations and experimenting with the old methods. Guarding a man on a battlefield was difficult enough, but when that man desired to be fighting himself, it became impossible. Benaiah had to throw out much of what was taught regarding bodyguards. Kings and nobility, under normal circumstances, rarely sweated on the front lines. While serving in Egypt, Benaiah had never seen the pharaoh so much as mount a chariot to ride to battle — the reason his sons were plotting against him. David was different.

The foreigners Benaiah had selected for the bodyguard were good fighters, but he could not shake the suspicion that they would prove untrustworthy. They might be assassins sent by rival kingdoms — or worse, sent by Saul. He had no way of knowing who was loyal.

Word flew through the ranks that an elite guard was being formed, and as had undoubtedly been the case since the dawn of warfare, men sought to compete with one another for a spot in it. Men who had been with David for a year or more had been selected first, since they had already demonstrated their loyalty in combat.

For their service, Benaiah had proposed that David’s bodyguards receive a tremendous wage, more than, to Benaiah’s knowledge, any mercenary had ever made. This was to drive the men to compete with each other for positions and enable them to resist the temptation of being wooed away to a higher bidder. When Benaiah had presented this plan to David, he had heartily agreed. Of all the things David held dear, Benaiah had noticed, money did not seem to be among them. And David was an exceedingly wealthy man after all the raiding—even though he had sent most of the plunder to the villages of southern Judah, there was a storehouse in Ziklag full to the ceiling with treasure.

Benaiah decided that he would worry about it no more until they reached home, only a few days of marching away. The men were anxious to charge toward the city as quickly as possible and told their officers so. But David wanted them to rest and eat. There might be fighting soon. This was wise, Benaiah knew, but he was running out of ways to take his mind off Sherizah.

It was the middle of the day. The sun had finally begun to feel hot as they marched, and winter clothing had been abandoned for lighter, cooler garments. Now men were stripping to their bare chests. Those not worried about their families compared muscles and argued over who was better endowed.

Benaiah, kneeling, looked up at Eleazar, studying the hills on their left. Someone shouted, and all of the men rose and prepared to move. Benaiah strapped his gear back on and waited as Eleazar did the same. The two of them looked around for someone to walk with. They led no companies or squads, so they tended to wander freely among the columns of men. They saw Keth at the front of the Hittites and made their way toward him. Josheb and Shammah appeared as well.

“Where is Joab?” asked Benaiah.

“With his brother Abishai,” replied Josheb.

“Did you not hear? He finally gave up his independence and stitched himself into David’s tunic,” said Shammah.

The humor was so unexpected that the entire group of them halted and stared at Shammah, who looked back at them awkwardly.

Wide-eyed, Josheb said, “It cannot be. Not Shammah.”

Shammah scratched his face and looked at the ground.

Eleazar said, “That was actually funny. Tell more jokes like that and you will finally get a woman.”

“You do not have a woman, Shammah? No wife or slave girl?” Keth asked.

Josheb chuckled. “Shammah has killed entire troops of men with only his hands but bumbles all over himself when a beautiful woman walks nearby. We can’t even get him to talk to them. I offered him my sister just to put him out of his misery, and he still refused.”

“Because your sister looks like you,” said Eleazar.

“One day the right one will come. Yahweh will guide me to her,” said Shammah.

“Just don’t be guided to the camels; you look desperate enough to make love to them if left alone,” Josheb replied.

They roared at that one, and despite his best efforts, Shammah could not disguise his own smile.

“I’m still not convinced that an Amalekite army is waiting for us, Benaiah,” said Eleazar.

“I’m not either. But I fought ten, and one of them said there was. How large a force would they need? Every Philistine king marched north with that army. There won’t be a man in the south to stand between them and all they want to take.”

They resumed their march in thoughtful silence. They had gradually made their way to the front of the ranks, alongside David, who had been marching alone. He was the only man among them who spent most his time alone, and each of them wanted to provide him company.

David looked up from the road and smiled. “Hope you are all ready for whatever we find.”

The other men nodded.

“Where is Joab?” asked Josheb.

“I sent him to the rear.”

“Sir, if I may ask …,” said Keth.

David nodded.

“Could you explain your relationship with your deputy Joab? So that I am fully aware of the line of command.”

“Of course. Joab, as you probably heard from the men, is my nephew and reports to me. He and Abishai, his brother, ensure that my orders to the line units are carried out. You all,” David gestured to the others in the group, “will be independent from him. All of you report directly to me, as Joab does.”

David adjusted his pack. Benaiah loved him for carrying his pack like the others. No special treatment.

“Keth, you will eventually command the armorers, so your role will be slightly different because I don’t want the armorers engaged in battle. It defeats the whole purpose of trying to get iron workers if all of you fall on the battlefield. But if your reputation is accurate, you will inspire the Hittite men who will not be able to win glory in the field,” said David.

Keth did not answer. Benaiah wondered why he did not complain, having just been told that he would have to stay in the back with the gear when the fighting started. No honor could be won while defending baggage.

“Sir, what will we do if there is trouble in Ziklag?” asked Shammah.

“We do not yet know if there is trouble. If there is, I will choose a course of action when the time comes.”