by Brian Godawa
“True enough,” said Sheshai. “Your passion speaks to the importance of justice. But let us not forget who our enemy is. They are greedy, conniving deceivers who use the blood of our children to bake their bread. We will get our vengeance. But we must do so wisely. If we do not need to be the first to jump into the fray, then why should we? We can learn their weaknesses by watching them battle with others.”
The king was smiling and thinking through Sheshai’s advice.
Then he said, “Let Sihon and Og have the first stab at these Habiru—and save us the casualties.”
Chapter 17
Moses, Joshua, Caleb, and the commanders of thousands, including Othniel, stood on the bank of the Arnon River. Across that river lay the territory of Sihon, king of the Amorites. The Israelites had traveled the long way around Edom and had finally arrived at their destination months later in the Transjordan.
Joshua was looking out on the land with hungry eyes. “Give me the word, and I will send in our forces and kill every last one of these Amorites with holy pleasure.”
Moses said, “You are too quick to kill, Joshua. You must learn that righteousness is not achieved through force, but through persuasion.”
“But these Amorites stand in the way of Yahweh’s will.”
“Only if they do not allow us passage. We have no interest in the Transjordan. Yahweh does not promise it to us. Only the Cisjordan of Canaan is our goal. We will ask them for safe passage.”
• • • • •
Heshbon was the city of Sihon, king of the Amorites. It lay on the King’s Highway just twenty five miles north of the Arnon River. South of that river was Moabite and Edomite territory. Sihon ruled the land between the rivers Arnon in the south and Jabbok fifty miles in the north. His western limit was the Jordan River, and his eastern limit, the desert of the Ammonites, whom he had pushed east in his territorial annexation.
Heshbon was well fortified and on a plateau about two thousand feet high. Inside the king’s domain, Sihon sat on his throne carved from an ancient cedar tree. His advisors surrounded him as he read a dispatch brought by messenger from Jahaz, another one of his cities just ten miles closer to the border of his kingdom.
Jahaz was a smaller city than Heshbon. Whereas Heshbon and its surrounding community contained as many as four thousand people, Jahaz only housed about two thousand. And Jahaz did not have fortification.
“Scribe!” barked Sihon. “Prepare a message for delivery to King Og.”
The scribe had been waiting and ready. But the urgency with which Sihon spoke made him tremble as he prepared his writing tools and clay tablet.
As Sihon dictated to the scribe, his advisors were appraised of the situation as well.
“Say to Mighty Og of Bashan: Thus, Sihon of Heshbon, king of the Amorites. For you, your Rephaim, and your realm, may all go well, and may the gods protect you. For me and my kingdom, my city of Heshbon, all goes well. I send you this urgent dispatch with my most humble gratefulness to be your ally. The dangerous time we have strategized for has arrived. Our territories are now in jeopardy, as the Habiru have been spotted preparing for war across the Arnon river facing my city of Jahaz. They are led by an old fool named Moses, a fanatical follower of this white-bearded geriatric deity Yahweh. He is fool enough to ask for unmolested passage to the plains of Moab, for entrance into the Cisjordan. But I think these ruffians have as their ultimate target to conquer your fertile land of Bashan. He has promised not to turn aside to take of my vineyards or water wells. Naturally, I refused his request and have already begun amassing my forces at the town of Jahaz in order to thwart these sons of pigs and monkeys. Per our agreement, I now request that you send me, with utmost of haste, the two hordes of Rephaim gibborim you promised to help defend your interests. Of course, even more Rephaim numbers would insure victory for your cause, but I leave that to your generosity and wisdom. I remain your ally in full, and may the gods protect us both with favor and justice.”
Sihon thought that stressing Og’s own interests was politically clever. The fact of the matter was that without those Rephaim giant units of four or five hundred strong, he was not sure he could hold out for long.
The scribe hurriedly finished his tablet and prepared to bake it for delivery.
Sihon barked orders to his commanders, “Prepare our total forces for immediate removal to Jahaz. We will incorporate the Rephaim units when they arrive. And alert the priests of Molech. We have need of special sacrifice.”
The commanders moved to obey.
• • • • •
Joshua and Caleb finished consulting with the commanders about their strategy for battle in Joshua’s war tent.
The commanders left the tent to muster their forces for a ten-mile march to Jahaz across the Arnon.
Joshua and Caleb were startled by the sudden presence of four men in their tent.
“Where did you come from?” asked Caleb.
They had turned their backs for a second. Did they slip in unnoticed so quietly?
Mikael spoke first, “I told you that you would be seeing more of me.” He smiled.
Joshua saw the three others. “And who are these gibborim with you?”
“Let me introduce the archangels Gabriel, Raphael, and Uriel.”
Caleb already knew Gabriel from his schooling in the way of the Karabu many years ago.
Caleb said to him, “Welcome, old friend.”
They hugged briskly.
Joshua was confused. “Why would we need the help of four archangels? Our spies have confirmed Jahaz will be an easy victory.”
“We are not here to help you,” said Mikael. “We have our own mission. Linked to yours, but of separate concern.”
Caleb said, “It must be very important or very difficult to require all four of you.”
“Actually, it is both important and difficult.”
Joshua said, “Dare we ask what?”
Uriel interjected with his characteristic sarcasm. “Yes, you may dare. But we will not answer.”
Joshua and Caleb stared with blank faces, not knowing how to respond.
“I am only kidding,” said Uriel.
Mikael said, “We are here to take care of business we have left unfinished for too long. We are going to capture the gods of this land and bind them in Tartarus.”
Tartarus was the lowest place in the belly of Sheol. It was the place of imprisonment that was of uttermost distance from the presence of Yahweh. It was said that Tartarus was as far below Sheol as the earth was below the heavens.
“How do you bind them?” asked Caleb.
Gabriel pulled up his cloak to reveal a band made of white thin hair wrapped around his bicep.
“This is the indestructible hair of Cherubim from the very throne of Yahweh. We bind them with it. It will hold them until judgment.”
Uriel added with a smirk, “It is a special talent we have. Do you want us to teach you how to do it? It is fun.”
“No, thank you,” said Joshua. “Gods are above our pay wages. We will stick to men and giants.”
“Uriel is our resident jester, in case you have not noticed,” said Gabriel. “He is just making up for his lack of size.”
Uriel was smaller in height than the others.
Uriel elbowed Gabriel. “You will have to forgive him. He is just envious of my skill.”
He added as an afterthought, “And oration.”
Then another afterthought, “And brilliance.”
Gabriel angled for the last word, “But not his bravado.”
Raphael, the silent one, just smiled with amusement.
Mikael, stepped in, “Okay, you two. Keep it up and they will not have any confidence in us.”
Joshua and Caleb gave each other a side-glance.
Caleb could not help it. “Is that how you capture them? Distract them with bickering? That is brilliant.”
“That is what Enoch used to say to us,” said Uriel.
Joshua changed the subject, �
�Why would it take four archangels to overcome a Watcher god?”
Mikael explained, “The Watchers are the Sons of God that rebelled against Yahweh and came to earth. They were among the mightiest of the heavenly host. But they were also granted authority over the nations at Babel. That authority places them above archangels and is a form of power that grows with their evil. Ashtart and Ba’al are the strongest, and we are in their territory, which gives them a compounded advantage. I want to make sure they do not slip out of our grasp again.”
Caleb said, “I guess you have your hands as full as we do.”
Mikael said, “We will ride with your forces, but will depart when we reach the location of our intended targets.”
“Fair enough,” said Joshua. “We set out in the morning.”
Then Caleb added to Uriel, “Our soldiers could use some entertainment tonight if you are available. Maybe some comedic theater?”
Chapter 18
Sihon had aligned his forces outside the city of Jahaz on the field for battle. They were over two thousand soldiers, including those who came from Heshbon. When the Rephaim gibborim arrived, it would have the effect of doubling that force against the Habiru intruders.
But the pressing concern was the religious sacrifice he was currently watching. It was common practice for cities, besieged by evil attackers, to offer human sacrifice to their gods.
The god of the Moabite lands was Chemosh, a phony Yahweh imitator. But when Sihon had dispossessed the Ammonites, he also retained their god, Molech, king of the Underworld.
Molech had a preference for children. So the priests of Molech prepared ten children, decided through lottery, to offer to his infernal eminence.
They lined the children up for sanctification before a massive bronze statue in the form of a seated Molech, but with the head of a bull. It was a hollow body that was heated below by raging flames.
Sihon and his soldiers were adorned in their battle dress of leather armor, painted bodies, wild headdresses and animal skins. It was all calculated to project savage chaos upon the enemy.
They lined up in devotion before the huge bronze altar, called a “high place,” that was situated just outside the city. High places were elevated platforms and altars devoted to the worship of the gods. Molech worship included veneration of the dead, which would be invoked to protect their forces against the living.
The children were marched up to the bronze image and placed inside the hollow structure. This place of burning was called the tophet, and the act of sacrificing the children was called, “passing through the fire.”
They shut the enclosure and stoked the fires to burn them alive.
As the victims were being immolated, heavy war drums beat a rhythm that drowned out their tortured cries of pain.
It was interesting that no matter how much idolaters sought to justify their abominations, their actions revealed their bloodguilt: They sought to cover their ears from what should have been a beautiful sound had it truly been a righteous act.
They knew it was reprehensible.
But Molech was satisfied that day.
• • • • •
A mile out from Jahaz, the army of Yahweh finished their approach toward the city. They were four thousand in number. The rest of the forces, about two thousand, guarded the nation in Moab.
Moses was riding in a special carriage with pillows to lessen the roughness of the ride on his aging bones.
He heard the drums in the distance and he knew what it was for: Molech, the abomination of the Ammonites. He had learned of that heinous monstrosity when he had sojourned with the Midianites years ago. He could not wait to demolish their high places, and melt their graven images in the flames of their own judgment.
• • • • •
King Sihon sat on his horse overlooking the battlefield before him. He was outnumbered two to one. He did not stand a chance without the Rephaim from Og.
But the Rephaim had not yet arrived.
He was beginning to panic. Og had procrastinated for too long. He had waited until the last minute to send the reinforcements as promised. As a result, Sihon would experience heavy losses.
His hope was reinvigorated when he saw a messenger from Og move through his ranks to meet Sihon.
“My lord,” said the messenger. “Forgive the delay. The Rephaim are almost arrived from Ashtaroth.”
Sihon had lost all sense of protocol. He shouted at the messenger. “By the gods, man, how far? We have not much time!”
“Og says to sally forth without them. They will bring up on the left from the Highway and flank the Habiru forces. You can crush them in a pincer move.”
Sihon was only partially encouraged. “You had better be right, messenger, or all is lost, and Og will be next to fall.”
The messenger left him to lead his army into the battlefield.
When the horns of war bellowed and the two forces met on the field of fire, the Rephaim had still not arrived.
The Habiru forces were cutting through Sihon’s army like a knife through pudding.
Sihon was in the rear watching the outer ridge to his left for a sign of the Rephaim’s arrival.
It could still work. The giants were massive fighting monsters, whose surprise would multiply their terror many fold. Sihon hoped he could rally the remainder of his men to draw extra strength from such a turnaround and turn their impending defeat into victory.
• • • • •
Molech and Chemosh watched the battle below unfold decidedly against their favor.
Suddenly, Molech saw four figures on horseback approaching the city. They were not engaging in battle except to ward off attack. They appeared to be intent upon an independent mission.
Though his eyesight was not good, he recognized who they were. They had the presence.
They were archangels.
Four of them.
And there was only one reason why four archangels would be needed for such a task. They were here to bind the gods.
He turned, only to discover that Chemosh was already gone. The coward had run. Just like he had millennia ago in the War on Eden.
He should have figured as much.
There was no way Molech could face four archangels alone. It would probably be best to withdraw up to Ashtaroth and alert Ashtart to prepare. His chances for victory would be increased by the side of the goddess of war.
It was not cowardice to avoid this confrontation. It was cunning.
• • • • •
Sihon’s men were fighting savages. But these Habiru seemed to have the favor of the gods with them. They overwhelmed his forces and drove them back.
And still the Rephaim had not arrived.
So Sihon blew his special trumpet to signal his giant platoons.
A strange high-pitched buzzing sound came out of the rear of the Amorite forces. The Amorites suddenly pulled back in retreat, and the Israelites followed the chase.
But the Amorites also split down the middle of their forces, leaving a gauntlet for the arrival of one hundred giants, to come running through like a battering ram against the Israelites.
These were the Zamzummim and Emim remnant that Sihon had saved for just such a surprise. If the Rephaim came soon, it would be a one-two punch that could slaughter the Habiru.
The Zamzummim made the strange buzzing sound that pierced ears and confused communications amidst the ranks of the enemy.
The Israelite archers released a volley of arrows at the giants, but they were like toothpicks poking the titans. Annoying, but not stopping the relentless monsters.
The giants pummeled their way into the Israelite forces, tearing them asunder. They towered over the soldiers in both size and strength and fought with a fearsomeness the Israelites had not seen before.
They caused a momentary lapse in the Israelite advance. This was their first encounter with the giants that they had heard of a generation ago. Othniel was in the thick of this giant incursion leading his men to defe
nd. He felt a shiver down his spine when he saw these huge warriors and his men rolled over like a pack of hares beneath a boulder.
But the giant’s mistake was that they were too speedy and efficient. They had burrowed their way into the middle of the Israelites, expecting to be followed on the side by flanking Amorites. But their comrades had not been able to follow them because they had been too crippled.
So Othniel saw his opportunity and led a sea of Habiru to surround the Emim and Zamzummim.
One hundred giants hit the Israelites hard that day with heavy losses. They gave Moses and Joshua a portent of the power of the Seed of the Serpent. If only one hundred of these monsters could accomplish this much damage, imagine what a thousand could do?
But this was only one hundred giants enveloped in a morass of thousands of battle-hardened Israelites.
The titans were cut down—with great difficulty—but they were cut down.
But Othniel was not done.
He led a force of Israelites to press forward and finish off the Amorites. Sihon himself was now engaged in battle. He was a gibbor and would not be taken easily. He hacked and held off Habiru with a strong arm.
And he knew that his opponents were still shaken by the giant attack, and for a short time, they would be vulnerable to a Rephaim blitz of more giants.
That was when Sihon’s hope flared as he saw on the distant ridge, the arrival of a party of figures on horseback.
He thought, Praise Molech, the gods have answered my prayers. The Rephaim have arrived.
But the gods had not answered his prayers. The figures were not a multitude of giant warriors, but a mere party of five on horseback. They were not arriving, they were watching.
Just then, a spear pierced him through because of his distracted attention.
It was Othniel’s spear. He had zeroed in on Sihon and attacked the leader with zeal.
As the iron barb entered the king’s gut, it dawned on Sihon.
He had been the biggest fool of all. The riding party must have been spies for Og, who never intended to send the Rephaim. He gave Sihon the false hope to lure him into confidence to fight the Habiru. He knew Sihon would lose. So instead of wasting his own forces on a losing battle, he would withdraw and allow Sihon to do some damage to the Habiru, which would increase Og’s advantage when he faced them afterward.