Signs and Wonders

by Bernard Evslin

  “Samuel … teacher … anointer with strange oils, I will do your bidding in all things.”

  “Go, then, and begin.”

  “Shall we meet again?”

  “Doubtless. Farewell.”

  The old man embraced David and kissed him. Then he stepped into the shadows and was gone. And David, standing alone in the profound darkness, in the great hush, under the immense sky, thought it was all a dream. But his garments were newly washed and the fragrant oil was in his hair. He whistled to his dog, rounded up his sheep, and headed for Bethlehem.

  Pain sat upon Saul’s brow. His crown was a hoop of fire. He swept it off his head, but the circlet of fire burned into the king’s skull, scorching his wits, filling him with a murderous unfocused rage. Light stabbed his eyes. He ordered the windows veiled. The great throne room filled with dusk.

  A voice came out of the shadows beyond his throne. It was the voice of the new harp boy sent by Samuel. Fresh as a running stream this voice, and words seemed minted for the first time in its melody. No fatness of self-admiration in its tones; it was easy and cool as birdsong.

  The king shall joy in your strength, O Lord,

  In your salvation how greatly shall he rejoice,

  You have set a crown of pure gold on his head,

  His glory is great in your salvation.

  Honor and majesty have you laid upon him.…

  The melody curled about the king and he sank into its coolness. The words gold and crown made him wince, but then he seemed to hear other words singing behind those and they were: “Your pain is your crown, but your crown is of kingship. In splendor is responsibility.”

  He turned to see the new harp boy, but the shadows were too thick. He saw only a slender arm, a blur of face, and the gleam of the harp. A tension went out of Saul’s huge body. The melody quenched the fire in his head; his pain eased. He turned again and closed his eyes, and sank into a healing sleep.

  Now each afternoon after the war council, he dismissed his captains and sent away the magnificent prince, his son Jonathan, and sat alone in the shadowed throne room and listened to the harp boy sing. The young voice seemed to burst with joy, and the songs were of praise and wonder.

  The lines have fallen to you in pleasant places, O King;

  Yea, you have a goodly heritage;

  Therefore shall your heart be glad and your glory rejoice.

  The king had always been told of God in the most dire terms and was tormented by the fear of divine wrath. Now in these songs a new vision of the Creator was being painted.

  Sing unto the Lord: His anger endures for but a moment.

  Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.

  And Saul, cooled by strange song, eased by shadows, did not summon the lad to him or look upon his face. He wanted to keep that voice steeped in mystery. He wanted it separate from everyday knowledge; he did not want it attached to a name or face. For this voice out of the shadows was the only ease to his torment. He was like one who listens in a dream and does not wish to awaken.

  Swathed in shadow, David touched the strings of his harp and studied the king. He saw that Saul, who listened half absently in council to reports of Philistine victories, was more bedeviled by private woes than public peril. But what was troubling him so, this man of power and wealth and fame, who had bedded beautiful women and begotten strong and beautiful sons? Why did he sit there brooding, when he should have been out in the field leading his armies, inspiriting his men as he alone could do? What ranged shapes of guilt and remorse were feeding upon those royal guts?

  David began to feel a puzzled tenderness for the big, agonized man whose grief he could not fathom. He plucked his strings and sang his verse and felt the music of praise surging through him, stiffening his fingers into rods of power. And when the power was upon him in full flood in the shadowed afternoon, he tried to believe that the sound he made was passing through the king, cleansing him of those foul private devils.

  He sang new songs:

  O King, you who love songs and admire prophesy,

  Know that I, David, shall incline my ear to a parable

  And open my dark saying upon a harp.

  The king sat erect on the throne, staring out in front of him. The tension did not leave his body; the song did not reach him. David pondered. What sin had Saul committed that God should punish him with such unhappiness? Or, perhaps, was his unhappiness itself the sin? Was unhappiness ingratitude? Was it the worst sin, the father of sins? The thought began to sing itself:

  Praise the Lord!

  In His presence is the fullness of joy;

  At His right hand there are pleasures forevermore.

  Tidings from the battlefields grew worse and worse. Bloody, dusty messengers arrived daily at the palace and told the war council their tales of terror and loss. Finally, the captains’ alarms pierced the torpor of the king. Saul sent heralds to every corner of Israel, calling upon each tribe to send forth every man who could bear a weapon. And David knew that his brothers must obey this summons and leave his father’s flocks untended. He knew that the time had come for him to leave the king and return to his sheep.

  He bade the king farewell. The man looked at the boy with stony eyes. David knelt and seized the great, knotty hand and kissed it. Then he arose swiftly and left the palace. He mounted his donkey and hastened toward Bethlehem.

  David and Goliath

  The Philistines came in a mighty host and encamped on the slope of a mountain. Saul mustered his forces on another mountain; the valley of Elah lay between.

  There was a great clanging of metal against metal. The astounded Israelites saw a gigantic figure striding out of the Philistine camp. It was a man, but almost the size of two men. Nine feet high he was, and as broad as a span of oxen. His spear’s shaft was the trunk of a tree, its point like an ordinary man’s sword. His shield was of brass and as big as a chariot wheel. He beat spear against shield, making an awful din. He called out and his voice was a thunderous bellow.

  “I am Goliath, Goliath of Gath, and I challenge you all! Saul, do you hear me? You, King Saul, who slew your thousands, I challenge you to single combat. Why let your men be slaughtered? You and I will fight. If you win, we Philistines shall bow the knee to you and serve you. If I win, then you and your Israelites shall serve us. Or, if you are afraid to fight, then choose another champion. Send out your best man against me, or two or three, and the battle will be settled between us. Ho there, Saul! My challenge awaits an answer.”

  Saul stayed in his tent. He was a brave man, but the sight of this giant froze his marrow. He knew that Goliath would squash him like a beetle. Goliath stood on the mountain, bellowing and jeering. There was no answer.

  The giant laughed and shouted, “No answer, Saul? I give you seven days to consider my challenge. If no one comes forth to meet me in that time, then I will fall on you, followed by the host of Philistines, and not one of you shall be spared, not your women or your children. All of you shall be put to the sword. We will scour this land of Canaan once and for all of the Israelite pest.”

  He strode off. Saul remained in his tent and did not go out. The troops were bewildered, fearful. Men began to drift away. And all knew that if the Philistines attacked, there would be a dreadful rout and a massacre.

  Now it was that the brothers of David, answering Saul’s desperate call for men, came to join the army. They were strong, brave young men, but they were amazed at what they found. The proud troops of Saul had become a sullen, terrified, half-mutinous mob. The brothers of David saw Goliath flaunting himself upon the mountain and heard his terrible bellowing. And they, too, were afraid.

  Upon this day, David was summoned by his father. “I wish you to go on an errand,” said Jesse. “You must go to the valley of Elah. You will find your brothers there, among the tents of Saul. Take them this food—this parched grain, these ten loaves. And take these ten cheeses as a gift to their captain, so that he may treat them well. Hurry now
. Do not fall a-dreaming and tarry on the way.”

  David departed. He mounted his donkey and rode swiftly to Saul’s encampment. There was a circle of wagons around the tents. The men stood in ranks with their weapons, for Saul expected an attack. David left the loaves and the cheeses and the bag of grain with the wagoner, and ran to find his brothers.

  “David!” cried his eldest brother, Eliab. “Why are you here?”

  “Father sent me. I’ve brought you food—a sack of wheat to make bread, and ten newly baked loaves, and cheeses for your captain. Do you fight today? Will there be a battle?”

  His heart danced as he looked about the ranks of men with sword and spear. He could hardly contain his excitement. But he saw his brothers looking at him grimly, and said nothing. Then he heard a great clanging and a voice that bellowed terribly over the valley. He saw a gigantic warrior stride out of the Philistine lines and post himself on the slope opposite, and call, “Do you still skulk among your tents, O men of Israel? I defy your armies, O Israel. Why don’t you find a man who will fight me?”

  David couldn’t wait to see who would answer the challenge. He looked for Saul, but the king was in his tent. And no man stepped forward. David felt himself choke with shame. He said: “Who is this uncircumcised monster, that he should defy the armies of the living God? Why does no one go forth to meet him? Are you all afraid?”

  Eliab grasped his shoulder and shook him. “Why did you come here?” he cried. “Why did you leave your sheep? I know your pride and the wickedness of your heart. You didn’t come to bring us food, you came to watch the battle. Do you think it’s a boy’s game, this warfare? Men’s bodies are broken; they die screaming. Now leave this place and go back to your sheep, or you shall feel the weight of my fist.”

  David did not answer. He turned away from his brother and moved off, and listened to Goliath roaring. He looked about again to see if there would be anyone coming out to fight. But there was no one. The shame swelled in his chest until he could hardly breathe. He cried out, “Men of Israel, fear not this giant who serves a god of stone! Remember Samson, who slew a thousand of these same Philistines with the jawbone of an ass! He was alone and weaponless, but God armed him and gave him strength. Have you forgotten the power of God?”

  Saul, coming out to his troops, heard these words. “Come here!” he roared.

  David approached and knelt before him. “O great King,” he said, “you whom the Lord anointed and whose mighty deeds have fired the spirit of all Israel, I pray you, let me go out and fight the Philistine. The blight of fear has fallen upon your troops. Their hearts fail. I swear by the living God that I do not fear this giant and will fight him.”

  “How can you go against this Philistine?” said Saul. “You are but a youth. He is a mighty man of war. Behold him; he is a giant. You are small even for your age.”

  “I was tending my father’s sheep in the wilderness,” said David, “and a bear came. And a lion. I drove off the bear. And the lion snatched a lamb from the flock. I did not wish to cast a stone, lest it hit the lamb. And I grasped the lion by the beard and took the lamb from its jaws. Then I slew the lion. Yes, King, I swear to you that I slew both lion and bear. And this uncircumcised Philistine shall die in the same manner, for he has defied the army of the living God.”

  “You are raving, my lad,” said Saul. “It cannot be. Look you, I have sought a man among my troops. I have tall men here, strong men, skilled at arms. I have offered great riches to the man who kills Goliath, and promised that he should marry my daughter and be like a son to me. But no one dares to meet the giant. They are afraid. And they have reason to fear.”

  David said: “The Lord has delivered me out of the paw of the bear and the maw of the lion, and He will deliver me out of the hand of the Philistine.”

  Saul looked into the lad’s eyes. Arrows of light seemed to come from those eyes. They pierced Saul’s heart, and he heard himself saying, “Go, then, and the Lord go with you.”

  The king called for weapons and clad David in armor, put a helmet of brass on his head and a coat of mail. He gave David his own sword, saying, “This has tasted the blood of many Philistines. May it serve you well.”

  David walked a few steps. He swung the sword. He could hardly move for the weight of the metal. He said to Saul: “I thank you, O King. But I cannot wear this armor or wield this sword. My fighting is a kind of dance. I do not know how to tell it. But I must go light-footed and with my own weapons, this staff and this sling.”

  He cast off the armor and took his staff and sling, and knelt at the brook and chose five smooth stones, and put them in the pouch that hung at his belt. He said to Saul: “When you see me again I will be bearing Goliath’s head—or you shall not see me again. Farewell, O King.”

  He departed. He went down the hill into the valley and climbed the hill where Goliath stood. Goliath saw the lad coming, this small, slender boy, clad in sheepskin, bearing a staff. He thought it was some mockery of him by the Israelites. He roared, “Am I a dog that you come against me with a stick?”

  “I am a shepherd,” cried David. “I esteem dogs. You are no dog, but a beast more foul.”

  “Come here, little one,” shouted Goliath. “Vulture and rat shall pick your bones.”

  David said: “You come to me with a sword and a shield, but I come to you in the name of the Lord of hosts. Today the Lord delivers you into my hands. I will smite you and take your head from you and give your great carcass to the hungry vermin of earth and the birds of air, that all men may know there is a God in Israel.”

  Goliath did not advance. He wanted the advantage of the high ground, and waited for David to come to him. Then David vanished. Goliath lost sight of him among the rocks, and thought the boy had fled. David kept himself hidden and climbed the hill out of Goliath’s sight. He was circling away, trying to get to higher ground and attack the giant from above.

  Goliath laughed. He roared with glee. “So you have scuttled away, little rat. All you Hebrews are cowards, from the youngest to the oldest.” He pranced and clanged spear against shield. And he called across the valley, “There is not a man among you Hebrews, so you sent a boy. Now the boy has fled, also. I challenge you no more, for you are cowards. Today we attack! I will smite you and you shall flee before us. We will pursue you even unto your thresholds and destroy you all, men, women, and children, until there is no Hebrew left anywhere on earth.”

  He heard a shout: “Goliath! Goliath! Turn, Philistine, and meet your death!”

  He whirled to see David moving above him, coming toward him. He snarled deep in his throat, raised his shield, drew his sword, and walked slowly uphill in a fighting crouch. Even crouching he was enormous, and fearful to look upon.

  David whispered, “Deliver me, O God, out of the hand of the wicked, out of the hand of the unrighteous and cruel man. A giant is arrayed against me. But your favor will magnify me, O Lord, and make me mightier than the giant.”

  And it seemed to him that God answered only one word. It was like an eagle screaming, and the word was yes. He fitted a stone into his sling and began to whirl it above his head. The giant was trudging up the hill toward him. The sun glinted off his huge brass helmet. Goliath’s spear was the trunk of a tree, its point as long as a sword. David whirled his sling. He felt his whole soul launching itself out of his body and flying down the slope toward Goliath. Past shield and breastplate it darted and grappled in stinking darkness with the brutal, lardy soul of the giant. At that instant David cast his stone. It sped downhill and struck Goliath in the middle of the forehead, hit so hard that it sank into the bone of his head and stood out like a third stony eye. The giant swayed like an axed tree and fell face downward with a great crash.

  David ran down the slope, skipping like a goat, caroling with joy. He stood above the fallen giant and took Goliath’s sword from his hand. He had to use both hands to lift it. He raised the huge blade and slashed down and smote off the giant’s head. He lifted the head toward
the sky like an offering and cried, “Beloved God, you are my rock. You are my shield, my honor, my high tower, my refuge, my savior! Your word is my strength, your favor my victory!”

  David ran down the hill and across the valley and up the other slope toward his own lines, swinging the head by its hair and shouting with joy. When the men saw him coming, when they saw the starry light streaming from his face, and realized that the head he bore was as big as a bull’s head and that his victory was a miracle—then they felt the spirit of God entering them and felt their own hearts grow hot with it. They raised a mighty shout and charged down the hill. They charged the Philistine lines. And the sun flashing off their swords was no brighter than David’s face as he watched.

  “Rebuke the company of spearmen, O Lord!” he cried. “Scatter the people who delight in war.”

  And the music of David’s praise pleased God more than the words of anyone since Moses. His favor shone upon the Israelites that day. They scattered the Philistines and pursued them. And slew them by the thousands and by the tens of thousands.

  King Saul stood on the hilltop and watched his men penning the Philistines in the valley below. But he could not rejoice in the victory. Echoing in his ear was that first amazed triumphant yell of his men when they saw David coming with the head of Goliath. At that moment, at the very instant of triumph and joy, Saul’s heart was bitten by envy, and the envy festered into hatred.

  David went toward him. He knelt before Saul and laid the enormous, bloody head of Goliath at the king’s feet.

  Saul said: “Whose son are you?”

  “I am the son of Jesse the Bethlehemite,” said David.

  “You have done well, young man.”

  “Done well?” cried Jonathan. “He is blessed of God and performer of wonders. His victory is a miracle.” The tall young prince swept David into his arms and kissed him, and those about the king raised their voices in a shout of approval.

  “Father!” cried Jonathan. “You vowed that he who slew Goliath would marry your daughter and be as a son to you. Will you keep your oath?”