by Brian Godawa
He felt a blade slide down his tunic, barely grazing his skin, drawing blood. The tunic dropped to the ground.
A hand grabbed his loin cloth and ripped it off of him.
He was now naked and exposed before the circle of taunters. They whistled and yelped sexual remarks at him.
He guarded his genitals, knowing they were the part of his body most vulnerable to pain.
Another slap on his rear.
And another.
Then he felt two strong hands on either side grab his arms and hold him. He struggled, but they were too strong.
They pulled him to the ground onto his knees.
He could feel and hear the hot breath of all of them on him. He could feel they were naked and aroused.
He felt another slap on his face, and a stinging leather flog on his back and buttocks.
He felt the first warrior mount his back.
He could swear it felt like Goliath’s own grip on him. There were no words from the giants, only grunts of animal lust all around. They were like a pack of wild dogs.
He winced in pain as he was violently penetrated.
It was only the first of six violations that would complete his initiation that evening into the sacred brotherhood of the Sons of Rapha.
• • • • •
When Ittai escaped the clutches of Ishbi and Goliath in the desert, he didn’t go back to Gath. He just kept running deeper into the desert. He was never going back to Gath. He was running away forever. Something inside him had changed.
He stopped and built a fire in the open to warm himself in the desert cold.
He had always felt like an outsider with his own people. A half-breed that did not fit into any group. Actually, he was a half-breed of half-breeds, since giants were already hybrid creatures of heavenly and earthly union.
He believed he was of Nephilim descent, but his oddity made him an object of ridicule. He was ostracized by normal humans because of his extra fingers and toes, and excluded by the Rephaim because of his small size. His mother had died in childbirth so he blamed himself for that tragedy as well.
He had been called “runt” one too many times. He had been rejected by everyone for too long. In fact, the only person in the whole world who did accept him was Lahmi. But when Ittai had been rejected by the Sons of Rapha and Lahmi was accepted by them, Ittai felt that it was the final insult to who he was. He could never overcome his small size with the Rephaim, he could never overcome his odd mutation with the humans. And now his only friend in the world had left him behind because of these insurmountable barriers.
He put his dagger at the edge of the fire, with its blade sticking into the coals.
He wanted to get away from it all; away from the world of rejection; away from the humans who feared him as a freak of nature; away from the giants who mocked him as less than Rephaim.
And he knew just what he was going to do.
He looked up at the night sky. The brilliance of the gods shone down upon him. In his culture, the stars were equated with the gods, and so their influence as well. Was his destiny really controlled by them? If so, then let them stop him now.
He pulled out his dagger from the burning coals of the fire.
He knelt down in front of a rock. It struck him how like an altar it was; a flat top, almost square.
He prayed to Dagon, “Forgive me, Lord of Storm, but you give me no other choice. I will not live this way.”
He placed his hand on the stone and spread out his six fingers. He placed the blade on his smallest digit on the outside.
Then he cut down on the finger and sliced it off. The pain shot through his arm with ferocity.
He was tough. He growled, but he did not cry. His eyes were filled with hatred for everything that mocked him.
He held the red hot blade against the lesion to cauterize the wound.
The odor of his sizzling flesh assured him he would not bleed to death.
He ripped a piece of his tunic and wrapped it around the mutilated hand.
He saw the little stubble of a finger laying on the rock, and brushed it off with cavalier contempt. If he could not be a Son of Rapha, if he could not be respected as a descendent of the Nephilim, then he would cut off the offending members that marked his connection to that bloodline, the members that mocked him most.
He then placed his feet, one at a time on the rock and cut off each outer toe with the heated blade and wrapped each foot in a bandage as well.
Lastly, he switched the glowing blade to his wounded hand and cut off the sixth digit of his right hand. By now, the pain was so great he almost passed out. But Ittai had an iron will and would never give up or give in. Through sheer determination he kept himself conscious and coherent.
He wrapped his last hand awkwardly with a bandage. Now he would no longer be mocked as a stunted Rapha. He would not seek the acceptance of the cruel Philistines any longer. He would start all over in a place where people would think he was a human and treat him with dignity.
He was within a short distance of his goal. He had walked twenty miles through the desert and was just outside a city.
It was Mizpah of Israel.
Chapter 11
The small town of Mizpah was the site of several important moments in Israel’s history. In her ancient past, it was where the patriarch Jacob had made a covenant with Laban and set up a pillar of memorial. It was a rallying point where Israel gathered together against the tribe of Benjamin in the early era of the Judges over Israel. In more recent days, the seer Samuel first called all Israel to come to that place and pray in light of the Philistine threat, upon which their god thundered against the Philistines from heaven and pushed them back permanently.
When Ittai first arrived in the town, he was taken in by the blacksmith, Micah ben Jonathan, a Kenizzite. Because of the Philistine monopoly on blacksmithing, such craftsmen were rare and often misunderstood among the Israelites. But the Kenizzites were originally a gentile tribe with smithing background. Micah was a simple man who worked hard and stayed out of people’s way. Because of his own orphan-like gentile status, he had a special compassion for orphans of all kinds. When he found Ittai begging in the streets, he could see there was something special in this lad. He took him home to care for him.
When Micah noticed Ittai’s wounds he didn’t ask questions. He was not even aware of what they represented. He didn’t care what happened in the small boy’s past, he only wanted to give him a future.
After his wounds healed, Ittai showed great promise in blacksmithing. He already had a knowledge of it from previous apprenticeship. In fact, Ittai even taught Micah some important principles since Israelite skill in blacksmithing was many years behind that of the Philistines.
Ittai showed great interest in smithing weapons. His extraordinary strength lent itself well to the physically demanding craft. Micah allowed him to spend a part of each day testing and experimenting at making swords and the like.
One day, Ittai was looking through some old weapons that had been packed away in chests. At the bottom of one chest, he found a most unusual item.
He pulled out a strange-looking sword handle that stuck out of a leather case. But the case was not a long sheath as one would expect of a sword. Rather, it was about a foot square. It looked to Ittai as if it were just a handle that maybe led to a hammer or axe head inside the case. But that would not make any sense.
Ittai opened the sheath and pulled the handle out. A thin metallic blade ten feet long unraveled onto the floor like a whip. It was strange. It was durable metal, but flexible and razor-edged.
Curiosity caught Ittai. “What is this?” He was so absorbed, he didn’t realize that he spoke out loud.
“A whip sword.”
The words behind him made him turn. Micah had found him.
Ittai flushed with guilt. “I am sorry. I was only looking for inspiration.”
“And you found it,” smiled Micah. “It is a special sword passed down through gen
erations from the original hands of Lamech ben Methuselah to Caleb ben Jephunneh, the mighty right hand of Joshua ben Nun. Caleb was a member of my tribe of Kenizzites, so that is how I inherited it.”
The names meant nothing to Ittai. He remained blank in the face. Micah smiled. Of course he would not know.
“Legend has it that it was forged of heavenly metal from the Garden of Eden on the mountain of God.”
Ittai’s eyes went wide with holy fear. He saw words written on the handle in old cuneiform. Micah had taught him to read.
“Why is it called Rahab?”
Micah said, “Rahab is the writhing sea serpent of chaos.”
Ittai held the weapon away from himself as if he was holding a dangerous snake.
Micah smiled. “It won’t bite you if you handle it correctly. The metal is flexible like a whip, but more durable than any metal known to man.”
Ittai asked, “How can there be such metal?”
“I told you, it is heavenly. It is said that Caleb was trained in the ancient battle technique of the archangels called the Way of the Karabu. They say he used this sword to vanquish the mighty sons of Anak: Ahiman, Sheshai and Talmai, and captured the city of Hebron.”
Ittai said, “It was used to slay giants?” Possibilities began to swirl in Ittai’s mind.
“Let me show you how it works,” said Micah.
He took the handle from Ittai. “Stand back. I’m not trained as well as Caleb.”
Micah found a log sticking up in the pile of wood by the furnace. He snapped the whip sword and it wrapped around the thick log and then cut it in two with ease.
Ittai gasped.
Micah said, “That is why it is called Rahab. In the wrong hands of evil, it could do much devastation.”
Micah handed the sword back to his adopted son. “I want you to have it.”
“Me? Why me?”
“Ittai, I believe you have a righteous heart. I do not believe your discovery of Rahab was happenstance. I think Yahweh ordained it.”
Ittai’s eyes began to tear up. He felt so unworthy. If his adoptive father knew his heart, he would not have called him righteous. On the other hand, he could think of a few giants he would like to slay with this weapon. He started to wriggle the blade like a charmed snake in his hands.
Micah said, “I will teach you how to use it. You do not want to accidentally cut off your own head.”
Ittai smiled.
Micah added, “And with that unusual strength of yours, you could do a lot of damage to an enemy.”
If he only knew how badly Ittai wanted that.
Ittai dropped the sword and hugged Micah ferociously. His gracious kindness toward the young man was incomprehensible.
Micah smiled through his own tears and hugged him back for all he was worth.
Chapter 12
A horn had called all the citizens to the town square in the middle of Mizpah. The square was packed tight with Israelites, most of whom had travelled to this little town from all over the hill country. There were the elders and the clan leaders, all delegates representing the interests of their tribes and their allotted lands.
In the crowd, Ittai and Micah were close enough to be able to see the faces of the tribal elders on display at the podium in the center of the square.
The assembly went hushed when an old man in long gray hair stepped up.
Micah whispered to Ittai, “That is Samuel the Seer.”
Seers were the spiritual advisors of Israel. The Israelites were unique amongst their neighboring nations in that they did not have a king. Micah had explained to Ittai that they had been ruled over by judges and elders for hundreds of years because their god Yahweh was their king. The judges were both military leaders and civil governors of the twelve tribes. They led them in some victories over the Midianites, Moabites, Ammonites, and Philistines. They had secured the highlands of Galilee, Samaria, Judah, and Gilead east of the Jordan. But the Philistines retained the southern and central coastal plain along with the Shephelah. Other Canaanites held the northern coast, the Valley of Jezreel as well as Jerusalem and other territories. As a confederacy, Israel suffered disunity and conflict among its diverse tribal interests and squabbling. While elders and judges led the civil and military affairs, they were often spiritually advised by seers. Samuel seemed to be a significant one.
He also seemed to be an angry one. When he spoke, he struck Ittai as a man who was very annoyed at not having things done correctly. It was strange that such a short-tempered sourpuss would have so much influence over a people. Maybe this was why Israel had so many troubles. Or maybe Israel was such a troubled people that it drove this seer to frustration.
“Hear O Israel,” announced Samuel. “You have been gathered together before Yahweh by your leaders of thousands because you have sought a king to reign over you. You have said, ‘Let us have a king like the nations around us!’”
He paused. The crowd was amazingly quiet to Ittai. He had never seen them so. They truly listened to this Seer.
“Thus says Yahweh, the Elohim of Israel: I brought you out of Egypt and delivered you out of the hands of your enemies, the Egyptians, and all the nations who have oppressed you. I have been your king. Yet now you cry out, ‘We have no king. Set a king over us like the nations have.’ This day, you have rejected Yahweh who is your king.”
The crowd now murmured with agitation.
“So Yahweh will give you what you want. Just as he gave the meat for you in the wilderness and the water from the rock when you grumbled and complained. Now you cry out for a king to deliver you from the hands of the Philistines. But you will be sorry for wanting to be like the nations. Yahweh will appoint a king over you. And he will take the best of your daughters to be his servants and will conscript your sons to war. He will take the best of your fields and vineyards. He will take an oppressive tenth of everything you produce as a tax. You will complain to Yahweh, but it will be too late, and you will deserve what you get when you get what you have demanded.”
Another moment of angry silence from the Seer washed over the crowd.
He belted out, “Yahweh has confirmed his choice by sacred lots!” Murmurings around Ittai sharpened his attention even more on the scene before him.
The Seer announced, “Bring forth Saul ben Kish of the tribe of Benjamin!”
The murmuring rose to a cacophony of mixed reactions.
But no one came forward.
The crowd’s noisy chatter heightened. Ittai could see the Seer barking orders to those off the platform.
Then a man stepped up. The clamor settled. This must be the man. But to Ittai, he looked as if he didn’t want to be there, as if he were afraid.
What a strange choice for a king, he thought. The man was actually quite handsome. The kind that Ittai had seen women swoon over. He stood a full head and shoulders taller than any of the other Israelites. Ittai guessed him to be about six and a half feet tall.
The thought could not help but come to Ittai’s mind, Is he a Rapha? Rephaim were usually taller by this man’s age of about thirty or so. But then again, Ittai himself was living proof that not all Rephaim attain to such heights.
What kind of Rapha, so strong, so beautiful and befitting the physical image of royalty and power, could be so timid and hesitant?
This god Yahweh was a strange one. He gives his people what they want against his own desires? He chooses men as rulers who do not want to rule? Does he know what he is doing?
The Seer pulled out a flask and removed the cap. Saul knelt before the Seer. Samuel poured the contents of the flask over Saul’s head. The anointing oil flowed down over his face and beard. The crowd noise increased again.
Samuel cried out, “Behold the man of Yahweh’s choosing. Behold your king!”
And the mass of Israelite leaders all responded, “LONG LIVE THE KING!”
When the crowd died down in its applause, Samuel announced, “Hear O Israel! I have received word that the Ammonites have besiege
d the city of Jabesh-gilead. But I am no longer your judge over you. Hear now the words of your king!”
Saul looked surprised. He got up and wiped the oil from his face. He whispered to Samuel. Ittai could tell he was asking his counsel.
Suddenly, Samuel put his hand on Saul’s head in blessing. Saul jerked back as if penetrated by a rush of wind. The tall king fell back to his knees.
The crowd hushed.
“What happened?” Ittai whispered to Micah.
“The Spirit of Yahweh has come upon the king.”
Saul stood up again and appeared to rise taller than he had been. His posture straightened and he now exuded the confidence he had lacked just moments earlier.
It fascinated Ittai.
Saul turned to the crowd and announced in a firm kingly voice, “All Israel, send your military units and anyone who will fight to Gibeah. We will march on Jabesh-gilead and I will lead our forces in victory over these enemies of Yahweh!”
The crowd was stunned. Ittai and Micah were obviously not the only ones who had seen the transformation.
Then the entire mass of people burst out in a cheer.
Ittai felt tears in his eyes. Tears of inspiration. He turned to Micah and said, “I am going to Gibeah.”
Chapter 13
Ittai said goodbye to Micah and followed Saul to Gibeah where he sought to join the military of Israel. But he was still too young, barely eleven years old, and was not allowed to join up.
He would not accept defeat and volunteered for the spoils unit. These were not fighters, but rather scavengers who would walk through the aftermath of a battle. They made sure the defeated were truly dead, as well as helped confiscate any weapons or other useful military gear that might be used as victor’s spoils.
His first walkthrough had him tread through the mounds of Ammonite dead. He had heard of the Ammonites, but had never seen them because they lived across the river in the Transjordan.
They looked like shades of Sheol to him. Pale-skinned people with dark eye paint and masses of matted hair. They wore bones and teeth as jewelry and their clothing fell across their gaunt bodies in rags.