THIRTY-ONE

Keth stepped among bedrolls in the growing dark of the forest. Camp had been made alongside the road under the protective canopy of trees. The Hebrews had found a stash of stolen Philistine campaign tents among the recaptured loot and were pitching them all throughout the forest.

A red sun had risen that morning, meaning storms were on the way tonight. He had even spotted a flare of lightning in the distance toward the Great Sea as he walked the perimeter. David had ordered everyone to rest for the night under shelter, since the Sabbath was the next day — even though many of the foreigners did not observe the Sabbath. Ziklag was, anyway, too far a march for people so exhausted. No one seemed to mind, since nothing awaited them there but silence and ash.

Some men, too tired even to eat their evening meal, had fallen asleep where they sat. Wives and children reclined with them, families sleeping together in oddly huddled masses, and Keth considered the happy confusion a sign of hope and renewal.

Not all slept. Some fathers were extolling their exploits to their children, becoming the hero all over again. It had been a stunning victory. Not a man lost or even seriously wounded — except, of course, Josheb.

And he was expected to recover from his wound.

When Benaiah, Eleazar, Josheb, and the wives had arrived back in camp after a long day’s march, Keth had reveled in the pure joy of reunion. There had been cheers all across the camp. Even now, strolling through the camp, Keth heard the legend beginning to grow about the exploits of the Three and the mighty Benaiah. He shook his head and smiled.

The men on the perimeter were alert and ready. They were the men who had stayed at the Besor brook—now rested, fresh, and eager to prove their manhood to their fellow troops.

Picking a route through the people, Keth spotted the campfire he was looking for. He would make another round on watch this night, but first, a fire. A warm fire that would feel so wonderful he would be afraid of sitting in front of it because he might never get up again. The night would be cold, and he had no woman; the fire would be his companion.

Benaiah looked up from the fallen log as Keth sat down. Next to him were Josheb, Shammah, and Eleazar. All of them wore their exhaustion on their faces. David himself would no doubt have enjoyed sharing the company of these men this evening, but Keth had seen him walking toward the perimeter. No war leader he had ever known checked the perimeter watchmen as much as David did.

“Thought you would be asleep by now,” Benaiah said to Keth, who reached over and tore off a chunk of meat from the edge of the fire. The smell of herbs and spices watered his mouth heavily.

Keth settled onto a rock, grateful to discover that it had been warmed by the flames. Evening had softened and darkened the trees above them. Warmth was finally coming, and would bring the storms Keth had seen gathering in the distance. “The men who stayed at the brook yesterday are on the perimeter,” he said. “I needed to check on them. David goes out there now.”

“Good. They will need checking,” said Josheb.

Keth let the warm flames lull him. He felt at home among these four. They shared something. He was not sure what. “How are you, Josheb?” he asked.

“He lost blood, but he will make it. Passed out like a woman. I plan on never letting him hear the end of it,” said Eleazar.

“A dagger. I have defeated twenty men at once, and a dagger takes me out of the fight. I almost couldn’t save Benaiah in time,” Josheb said.

“Good fight today,” said Eleazar. “Good work on that Egyptian, Benaiah. Largest man I have ever seen. Bet it felt good to finally get him.”

“Not nearly as impressive as what I heard about Shammah,” replied Benaiah from across the fire.

“Yahweh was with me, but there will be more of them. Word will spread that Philistia is going to war against Israel. They will be like vultures,” Shammah said.

Josheb nodded. “Amalek will try again. They won’t be content just to lose an entire army to phantoms. If Amalek moves, so will Ammon. Then Moab. All of them will have their eyes on the trade routes to the north and south. If that Egyptian was spying for the king of Egypt, then the Nile kingdom might be coming at us as well. We’ll need more than three companies of thieves to stop them.”

“Will he be their vassal? David? If Saul is defeated, will he be the Philistine vassal in Israel?” asked Keth.

“He might.” Josheb paused, poked at a wound on his wrist. “But if we can forge iron weapons, he will not be their vassal for long.”

“The time of battle has passed, for now. It is no longer unclean to lie with a woman. Why are you all still here? Growing fond of me?” Shammah said.

“I should ask the same of you. No warm flesh among the captives?” Josheb answered.

“Even if he knew how to be with a woman, Shammah would probably fall asleep before he got going,” said Eleazar. They chuckled. Shammah scowled.

Across the camp, there was occasional laughter. Many were asleep by then, but there was always another campfire going. They would go as late into the night as men wanted to avoid their dreams.

Lightning flashed again, far away. Soon Josheb and Eleazar were sound asleep, leaning against one another. Shammah hunched forward, head hanging. Keth smiled at them. Benaiah, though, was still awake, staring into the flames. His face was unreadable.

A round of laughter from a fire nearby startled Josheb awake. He thumped Eleazar on the head, and the man sleepily stared at him, uncomprehending. “A sight we are,” said Josheb.

Shammah had awoken as well but was pretending he had not been sleeping. He rubbed his eyes to look more alert. The group of them sat together, enjoying each other’s company. Keth felt privileged that they allowed him to sit among them. Brothers closer than kin — the hardest circle to penetrate.

“For the life of me, I cannot understand why you all are still sitting here. Your women are nearby,” Shammah said.

“Good point. Eleazar is beautiful, but ultimately unfulfilling. In the morning, brothers.” Josheb rose and left.

“I’m too tired to sleep. I will go stand watch on the perimeter.” Shammah stood and walked away, his gentle stride disappearing into the woods.

Eleazar rose to do the same, but before he did, he said to Keth, “Excellent work today, Hittite. Selfless, brave, all of it. We are glad to have you. I overheard David speaking about you this evening. Wants to give you another name while you live among us. It is a custom of our tribes.”

“What name?”

“Uriah. It means ‘Flame of Yahweh.’ A good, fierce name. Uriah the Hittite.”

Keth nodded. “Uriah. I like it. I suppose I will have to learn more about Yahweh if I am to be named for him.”

Eleazar walked into the night after the others.

Keth looked again at Benaiah across the fire. It was just the two of them now. Benaiah’s countenance had been impossible to read since they arrived back in camp that evening. Keth let the quiet darkness around them settle a bit longer before he spoke up again. “If Israel’s army is defeated by Philistia, the entire northern portion of the kingdom will be cut off. What do you think David will do?”

Benaiah shifted his position, probably trying to rouse himself. “I’ve stopped trying to guess. He is a strange man. Probably write a song about it, then attack Gaza by himself,” Benaiah said.

“Perhaps he will move to take the throne. If he was anointed for it, maybe now is the time. Your god Yahweh might be clearing a path for us.”

“Our time among the Philistines will be finished soon. That is certain. My guess is that we will go to Judah and establish a city there. We will need a base to operate from in our own lands and among our own people, and David is popular in Judah. Then, if David truly wants to unite the kingdom, once Saul dies he will need to remove any surviving heirs. David will resist that — he is close to Saul’s son Jonathan, but he knows it has to be done. Then there is Ammon, and Moab, and now Amalek. They have their eyes on the trading routes, as Josheb said. Many days of battle lie ahead of us.”

Keth nodded. This was good. It was why he had come here, why he was here now. He was a man of war, like these men. They wanted peace desperately and resisted it hopelessly. There was nothing left for him in the north. He thought about his own clan for a moment, then pushed it away. He had a new name, now, given to him by his new brothers. Uriah of the Hittites.

“You should go to her, brother. The sun has set.”

Benaiah said nothing for a moment. His face was covered in a shadow. “I mistreated her before we parted the last time,” he said. “And she saw the battle today. No woman should see her man do such things.”

Keth shook his head. What Benaiah said was true: No woman should see that. “Is she still angry with you for mistreating her?”

“I have not asked.”

“Why not?” Keth asked.

“I told her I wanted another wife, before I left. To give me sons. We only had daughters.”

Keth shrugged. “That is not so bad. You should be able to make peace with her. You will have more chances for sons now.”

Benaiah paused long before he continued. “Two years ago, just before I came to David, I was in Egypt, a mercenary for the pharaoh. While I was gone, my daughters were slaughtered and my wife was raped by Amalekites.”

Keth closed his eyes, then opened them slowly. The lightning emerged as a white flash through the orange glow of the campfire against the trees. He waited.

“The soldiers forced themselves onto my daughters and then cut their necks, right in front of my wife. They spared her life so that she would suffer by reliving the images of her children being dishonored and slain, but they took turns with her as well,” Benaiah said softly.

“Does anyone else know?”

Benaiah shook his head. “No one but Sherizah and I. We came here to escape it. David knew something had happened, but he did not know what until last night.”

Keth had seen the altercation between Joab and Benaiah the night before. He had also seen David pull Benaiah aside during the pause in fighting.

Benaiah continued: “I tell you this because … I feel like I am supposed to.”

“I am honored.”

Keth watched the trees above, wishing he could somehow comfort his new friend. Only a father, he supposed, would understand that type of grief. He had no family of his own. Keth had seen Benaiah’s wife enter a tent before sunset. A happy family reunited, he had thought at the time.

Benaiah said, “After it happened, I heard about David and his army. We came to David, but all I wanted was vengeance. I had neglected my family, sought my own glory, and now I am suffering for it, as they did. Sherizah is lost to me. I never was a good father. Now Yahweh is against me.”

“I am sorry, brother.” Keth knew it was a senseless comment that did no one any good, but he hoped that Benaiah heard his heart behind it.

Benaiah nodded. “I never told you what my own name meant.”

“I asked Josheb. It means ‘Yahweh has built.’”

Benaiah closed his eyes. “I don’t know what he has built. I only know what has been destroyed.”

Keth glanced away from him, up into the night. He decided there was nothing more to say and waited. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Benaiah looked up from the fire and turned toward the west. Lightning flashed again and again.

They listened to the slowly dying noises across the camp: the crackling of logs, the whisper of warm air rolling in from the distant mountains to collide with the storms over the Great Sea, bringing rain and life to the earth around them. Benaiah studied it. Keth watched him and imagined that he was looking past the forest, past the lowland hills and pasture lands, past the deserts of sand to the Great Sea, seeking to swim across it, away from the violence and bloodshed of battle, away from predators who stole in the darkness. He wondered what this god Yahweh was building in Benaiah. Keth’s own gods had abandoned him long ago.

He let it go. There would be time to grieve tomorrow. Too tired now. He felt at home here, as he had never felt at home in any other place. He closed his eyes and let his dreams come: mountains of the north, a beautiful woman among the captives, the scarlet and purple house where he had uttered the strange prayer that had stopped him from entering.

Need to speak with David soon, he thought. Need to find out what the covering is …

My hammer strikes the final nail. Cheering, my brothers clap me on the back. There are shouts through the streets. The house is complete at last. My labors have borne fruit. A new home worthy of my new bride, Sherizah. Must go to her now. Light the torch, walk down the dark street to my beloved. The time has come. Our wedding ceremony, finally. She smiles at me, so very shy, so very nervous, always so quiet. The shawl is across her shoulders. I take it, drape it over my own shoulder, assuming the mantle. She is mine now. Mine to protect, mine to cherish. To hold in the sunlight and to hold in the dark nights when the stars are gone and the land is cold …

It is a spring day soon after, and she is laughing. She sounds like a bird when she laughs. Good day today. Finally alone. Beautiful valley, trees, the river. Her skin is close to my chest. She will have good sons. Does it matter? Not really. Sherizah. Lovely one. How do others take more than one? I do not want this day to end. Our last day together for a long time. There is much to do, much to enjoy, much to savor. I love her. She comes closer to me, and her smooth skin is warm.

“Will you send me a message from Egypt?” she asks.

“You cannot read anyway.”

“I want to see your handwriting.”

“Then yes, I can send you a message. On a papyrus scroll as a special treat.”

“You do not need to go. There is other work. Other men have trades and work their land and have their wives.”

She is right. But I must go. I must test myself away from my father’s house, must prove myself apart from him and his laws and Yahweh. I love her dearly, but I must go.

She sighs. “Just through winter? And then you will come back?”

“And then I will come back.”

“I think you will. You will want this again.”

“Confident, are you?”

Her skin is so soft. We lie together under the shade of a terebinth. We delight in each other …

I return, but leave again. There are many opportunities, many dreams to chase to build myself in the world. We have two children, daughters. Beautiful, but I would rather have sons. She keeps my home, runs my affairs, and I must continue to go away. Back to Egypt.

Years pass. I stay gone, desperate to prove myself, but for what purpose? The Egyptian defeats me in battle; I lose my way, wandering the deserts to find wells I do not own, wandering without my home, my beloved. Her memory starts to fade. I must return …

Benaiah stayed up late by the fire. He drifted in and out of sleep. But as the night wore on, he could avoid it no longer.

He slipped under the flap of his tent just as the rains finally arrived that night. They were strong, good, springtime rains, not the smattering of snowy moisture that did little to bring the crops out of the earth and remove the winter’s grip. The storm was fierce and unknowable and would purge Yahweh’s promised land all through the night.

He was careful not to disturb her as she slept. He listened to her breathing a moment, then crawled under the blankets, his body wracked with aches and exhaustion, grateful for the warmth radiating from her. Her breathing was steady and slow. He searched for words but found none. He wanted her to hear words that came from his heart, but he did not wish to wake her.

“Forgive me,” he whispered.

Her breath went on as steadily as before. Benaiah moved a hand through the blankets and touched her neck. She did not respond.

Benaiah turned over onto his back. The quiet darkness of the tent comforted him. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the sound of her breathing, wondering if she would awaken during the coming storm.

If she did, he would be there.

He listened to the rain. The wind began to pick up, bringing warm air to clear away the cold so unusual for that time of year.

The Sabbath, day of rest, was tomorrow.