FIFTEEN
The three men set out from the encampment early in the morning before the sun rose, dressed as ragged peasants, carrying nothing but a dagger apiece. The leader had ordered no food or provisions, and the two who accompanied him, accustomed to his increasingly bizarre behavior, thought little of it.
They became more concerned when they realized that he was leading them around the edge of the massive Philistine army gathered on the slopes of Mount Hermon. As the men crept through the forest, the flicker of enemy campfires speckled the treetops overhead. The Philistines were close enough that the sounds of an army rousing in the early morning could be heard. Cooking ware and weapons clanked, and commanders shouted orders. The Philistines were preparing for the first watch of the morning, when most ambushes took place.
The leader was careful to lead them far enough away from the perimeter to avoid being spotted by the sentries. He was in a hurry. Despite the proximity of their enemies, they needed to pass through this forest to reach their destination in time, and they needed the cover of darkness.
After an hour of picking their way across the rocky forest floor, guided only by the leader’s confident knowledge of the area, the three slipped over the shoulder of the Hermon range and, as the rays of sunlight began to appear in the sky, found themselves facing the desolate Endor region.
The forest gave way suddenly to a barren landscape that contained nothing but gray sand and rocky hills. Caves pocked almost every hillside. The large man pushed them hard, many times having them crawl on their bellies through ravines to avoid being spotted by roving patrols. The distance they covered was not great, but the need for stealth slowed them.
Once a Philistine foot patrol nearly stumbled over them, but the dust covering them from their crawls sufficiently camouflaged the men against the hillside, and the patrol passed unaware. They picked their way across the harsh environment until just after dark, when they came to a bank of limestone cliffs running north and south.
It was cold, and as they made their way toward the cliffs looming in the moonlight, the leader — a very tall man — kept wrapping his cloak around himself tighter to ward off the air. He approached a dip in the ground and leaped across a small stream without even pausing. The other two were forced to remove their thick woolen sandals and wade across, but their leader did not delay his pace for their sake. They grunted in frustration as he nearly disappeared from sight. After retying their footwear, they sprinted to catch up.
The trail took a slight turn at the base of the cliffs, and the group followed it, shoving branches and overhanging limbs out of the way as the thicket near the base crowded around them. After a while, the branches suddenly cleared, and they found themselves at the edge of a small open meadow. The cliff walls created a semicircle in front of them. The forest they had been walking through formed a border to their left, all the way to the edge of the rock wall. The ground sloped gently to the base of the cliff, where a black cleft in the rock broke the smooth face.
“What is this place, lord?”
The leader’s thoughts were interrupted, and he glanced at his companion. “It was used by the pagans many years ago, before the time of Joshua.”
He stepped forward into the clearing and made his way among the rocks scattered across the ground, eventually stopping near what they now saw was a small dwelling built into the cliff face. In a small corral nearby were several cattle. Chickens clucked softly and wandered around the house.
His two companions waited in silence, nervously eyeing the surrounding forest, almost expecting a winged demon to leap out at them from one of the caves. Through the window they could see flickers of orange from a fire inside.
The man waited a moment longer, then called out, “I seek counsel.”
They heard nothing for a moment, then a slow scuffling inside the house. The man pulled the wool hood over his head a little tighter as someone appeared in the doorway.
“What business is this?” It was a female voice. The two companions were expecting a bedraggled old crone, but to their surprise a young and attractive woman stood before them. Her dark hair was heavily braided, and she wore sets of copper bands around her neck and arms. She stared at them.
“I need you to bring someone back for me. Conjure him up. I will give you the name.”
The woman looked at the tall man in front of her and then at the men who accompanied him. It was awhile before she responded.” You know what Saul has done with the mediums and spiritists, cutting them off from the land. Why would you ask me that? I would be killed immediately if someone found out.”
“As Yahweh lives, you will not be punished,” the man replied.
She watched him carefully, occasionally glancing at his companions as well. It seemed to them she took a long time, but finally seemed to come to a decision. “Come inside, then,” she said. She turned and disappeared back into the house.
The tall figure looked at his companions. “I will go alone. Find food if you need it.” He ducked under the beam at the entrance of the house and went inside.
They were confused for a moment, then shrugged their shoulders and enjoyed the quiet. The night was perfect and crisp. All the sounds of the woods around them were amplified against the cliff face. One of them fidgeted his foot, then spoke. “Who is she?”
“Not sure. Strange that he would come here.”
“Yes. Mediums. Thought they were all gone.”
“No, too popular. The people hide them. It doesn’t make any sense that he came here, though, when he was the one who banned them.”
“Not for us to say. We are not the king.”
“I wish we were. We would have perfect happiness and peace all the time. And women. Lots of good, plump women.”
“Plump?”
He nodded. “Plump.”
They stamped their feet and paced. One of them squatted halfway to the ground and held his arms out in front of him. “What are you doing?” his partner asked.
“Keeping warm. It keeps your limbs working and the blood flowing. I learned this in David’s army. Try it, Jehu.”
“You were in David’s army? You never said that.”
“No, not if I was interested in keeping my head attached to my body. He’s not very popular in some circles.”
“Of course,” said the larger one. “He always came to check on us when we were out on the perimeter. Never missed a night. Impossible discipline.”
“I heard he would do that.”
“What else have you heard?”
The tall man kept the hood of his cloak pulled over his head so that the woman would not recognize him. She seemed not to care, going about her preparations quietly.
He gazed at the fire pit against the wall and followed the smoke up through the hole in the ceiling. The warmth of the fire against his face made him feel old. He was hungry, and that made him feel even older. Too old even to stand up and put one more foot in front of the other. The flames seemed to speak to him, to tell him that his days of walking were soon to end. He sighed.
The woman knelt next to the fire. He wasn’t sure what he expected her to do, assuming it would be some sort of heathen ritual with bones and blood, but she only held her position by the fire with her eyes closed. He waited.
The fire flickered brighter a moment; he felt the hair on his arms raise. His eyes went dry. He blinked.
“Who do you want me to bring up?”
“The prophet Samuel.”
She lowered her eyes and stared at the ground, swaying and muttering. This went on a few moments. He felt himself relaxing.
The woman shrieked and dropped to hands and knees, her face turned up at him. Her eyes were black as death, black as a starless night. “You are Saul!” she screamed. “Why have you deceived me?”
He sat forward. “Do not be afraid. Just tell me what you see.”
She glared at him with her black eyes, then slammed her face against the floor. She stared into the depths of the earth. Her hands scraped at the dirt, her fingernails snapping with the pressure. “I see a spirit coming up out of the ground.”
She had bitten through her lip; blood leaked onto the dirt by her face.
“What does he look like?”
Her eyes went wide with terror. She looked back up at him, blood streaming down her chin and neck. “An old man with a robe.”
Then she stood and wandered out of the room into the night, as if dazed.
Saul was overcome. He laid down, face to the earth. He heard something shuffle, and then a log on the fire crackled. The ground became hot under his face, and he felt someone standing over him. It was the prophet. He could feel the power of his presence.
“Why do you disturb me and bring me up?” Samuel’s rich, heavy tone resounded in the room, even more pure than it had been in life.
Saul could not raise his head to look at him; he was too afraid. His own voice was weak and frail: “I am in great distress. The Philistines are coming against me, and Yahweh has turned away from me. He no longer answers, either through prophets or through dreams. I have summoned you so that you can tell me what to do, as you did in the old days.”
He heard the prophet sigh. “Why do you consult me now that you are the Lord’s enemy? He has done what he predicted through me. The Lord has torn the kingdom from your hand and given it to another.” Samuel’s voice became louder. “He has given it to David.”
Saul felt tears on his cheeks. He wanted to protest, but there was no point.
Samuel continued. “Because you did not obey the Lord or carry out his judgment against the Amalekites, the Lord has done this to you today.”
Into Saul’s mind flashed the image of the Amalekite king, Agag, kneeling before him, at his mercy, the orders from the prophet clear: spare no one. But Saul had wanted so much—he wanted the prize, wanted the Amalekites as slaves. Surely Yahweh would understand. But all that followed had been darkness. Saul began to weep.
Samuel’s voice became even louder. “The Lord has handed both you and Israel over to the Philistines. This time tomorrow, you and your sons will be with me. The army of Israel will be given to the Philistines.”
There was a breeze, a footstep, and the fire flickered again. And Saul knew he was alone.
The two men outside and the woman came into the hut not long afterward. They found their king lying on his face, weeping. They lifted him up to a sitting position and tried to get him to drink while the woman set about relighting the fire.
“Yahweh has become my enemy,” Saul muttered to his men.
They looked at each other, then continued steadying him. He rocked back and forth, tears trickling down his beard.
The medium had reignited her fire and now walked over to where Saul sat, still quaking, his teeth chattering. Nervous, clearly desperate for them to leave, she spoke quietly. “Your servant has obeyed you and summoned the prophet. Now honor me and eat some bread before you go.”
He shook his head. “I will not eat.”
“Lord, you need nourishment for our journey back. Please consider eating,” one of his companions said.
Saul’s entire countenance had changed. He no longer carried himself with authority; he now looked like a deserted and lonely old man. The gray in his beard had seemed to increase. “I will eat something,” he conceded dejectedly. “Perhaps some bread and meat.”
She set about preparing a meal while the two men helped their king to a bed in the corner. Saul collapsed onto the bed and lay still. The woman slaughtered a calf outside and began preparing a platter of meat and bread, unleavened in her haste. When the meal was ready, the men ate, helping their master with his own meal. He went through the motions and said nothing.
The hour was late. When the men had finished, they helped Saul stand and wrap himself in his traveling cloak. The food had revived him somewhat. One of Saul’s companions gave the woman a shekel of silver for her trouble. They stepped with their master into the night.
The medium watched them leave the meadow and disappear into the forest, then returned inside.
The fire was roaring with the fresh wood that had been laid on it. She settled onto a stool next to the flames and stared at the fire. The events of the evening had shaken her. Before, when she’d consulted the ob, the spirit who consulted the dead, she had been in complete control. Her customers were always impressed.
Tonight, when the figure had appeared, it had been something outside of her power. She’d felt terror in its presence, not control. Something deep had been awakened.
Her mind wandered back to the tall king. He’d looked even more frightened than she had been when the old man suddenly appeared from the bowels of the earth. He had not told her what the prophet had said to him; perhaps it was something so awful that he could not speak it. This was something far beyond her understanding, and as she felt the shadows of the deepening night begin to creep through her window, she threw another log on the fire and began her preparations for bed.
Her sleep that night was fitful, full of images of an old man angrily emerging from the land of the dead with blazing eyes and a draped mantle.