David Ascendant

by Brian Godawa

  David continued, “I recommend a twofold strategy: leave the highlands of Judah and the desert of Negeb to me. I will secure your interests in that region. Instead of your forces attacking the interior, which will draw the fullness of Saul’s forces into maximum conflict, I suggest you hit him on the periphery where you are strongest and he is weakest, on the flatlands of the Jezreel Valley up north.”

  Achish thought for a moment, then blurted out, “Brilliant!” Then he paused skeptically. “But that is quite a distance from our own stronghold.”

  “But it is flat plains all the way up the coast and inland to the city of Shunem. You could secure that whole region and therefore box Saul in from both north and south.” David felt like the reverse of the Serpent in the Garden, leading the real serpent with his own whispering rhetoric.

  Achish’s mind was not as sharp as usual under the influence of wine, but it was not blunted completely. “How many Philistine forces will you require? That might split my own strength in half.”

  “None, my lord.”

  “None?” This was looking better every moment to Achish.

  “I will not lie to you. Even though my men are rebels and dissidents from Saul, they are still Israelites, and they do not like fighting alongside Philistines. But they are loyal to me. So, if you give us our own city near the Negeb, and grant us a measure of independence, you need never fear an uprising. I will lead them in flash raids against Israelite clans in the far south to secure the desert territory. That way, they can work out their enmity with rival tribes, without feeling as if they are fighting for you.”

  Achish moaned with agreement, but eyed him suspiciously. “You will be outside the pentapolis.”

  “But still inside Philistia,” replied David.

  “Autonomy,” pondered Achish.

  “Under your sovereignty,” pandered David. “I will be at your beck and call. If Saul goes after me, Israel will be ripe for your taking. If he splits his forces against you and me, then you will still have an easy victory in the north.”

  Achish’s face became deadpan still. David could not tell if he was still thinking it through or if the wine had finally overtaken him.

  A smile suddenly spread over Achish’s face and he said, “Excellent. If you keep this up, I may even appoint you to be my personal bodyguard.”

  “One thing at a time, my lord.”

  “Indeed. And the first thing is to get you settled. Tell your men to gather their families and move to the city of Ziklag. It is twenty miles south-west of Gath, on the outer reaches of Philistia in the Negeb. I will relocate the current inhabitants to Gaza and Ashkelon.”

  David bowed and left the cup on the table. “Lord Achish, you are too kind and too wise. I only hope to be worthy of your goodness and greatness.”

  David could flatter with the best of them. What he had planned for Achish was something quite different.

  Chapter 64

  David stood before his six hundred men, gathered in a small valley just outside the gates of Gath. Joab and Abishai stood with the Three and the Thirty behind David, along with prophets Nathan and Gad, as well as the high priest Abiathar, wearing his ephod.

  David told them about their new home, the town of Ziklag, and their new mission of performing sorties and expeditions against the tribes of the Negeb, supported by their Lord Achish.

  Some murmured in the crowd. David offered, “If there is any question in your minds, now is the time to air your concerns.”

  One of the men, a brigand with five of his comrades, shouted out, “David, we have followed you through battles with Saul in deserts and holes in the ground. We do not mind fighting with you against that tyrant and his minions. But you refuse to kill him. Now you want to pillage tribes of Judah? My comrades and I fear you are going as mad as King Saul.”

  Joab and Abishai drew their swords and stepped forward ready to slay the insolent brigand and his company of five. David held them back.

  Joab spoke to David with hushed anger, “They have defied you, my lord.”

  “No,” said David. “They are questioning me. And they have every right to. Because what I am asking of them is treason. You ought to have questioned me as much.”

  The brothers hung their heads. Their oath of devotion was to David, right or wrong. Was David claiming he was wrong?

  David spoke to the rest of the gibborim along with the brigand. “Do you believe I am the promised messiah of Israel?” The men nodded their heads, some mumbled yes, and others shouted it.

  David pulled Nathan, Abiathar, and Gad forward. “Do you believe I am receiving the word of Yahweh through the voice of his prophets and the ephod of the high priest?”

  More “yeses” and nodding.

  “Then I am asking you to trust me. You may not know the entire picture of the strategy that I and my leaders are planning. But you must trust me as you did in the battle of Keilah when you first fought against the Philistines. You were afraid and thought we would lose to them, but you trusted me, and Yahweh delivered the Philistines into our hands. And then you did not believe me when I said that Yahweh told me through the ephod that the city would turn around and betray us into the hands of Saul. But you trusted me anyway and we left, and averted sure disaster.”

  The warriors did not forget that episode. The quiet of the crowd illustrated a humbled agreement. The brigand and his men did not show such humility.

  David continued, “I am asking you, trust me now as you trusted me then. Yahweh’s will shall be revealed to you in time. But now, you must have faith that he will not lead you astray.”

  David had to keep his words vague enough in order to elicit his men’s trust without revealing too much information for any spies Achish might have among them. He could not tell them what he planned. It was the universal bane of all generals in military strategy. The common fighter could only know his immediate goal in the battle. He could not be privy to the bigger picture plans of kings and generals. It would be too much upon him, and would jeopardize the mission if discovered by the enemy. The common fighter had to trust that however wrong a command may appear to be in the immediate, in the long term strategy, it may actually have the opposite meaning or result.

  David concluded, “If any of you cannot abide such commands, then leave now, and I will not hold it against you. You have my word that you will receive your pay and you will not be harmed. Stand with me, and I promise you, all will come clear in Yahweh’s time.”

  It was all he could offer them.

  But it was still not enough for the brigand and his company of five men. They got on their horses and left the band of six hundred gibborim to their fate.

  On the way out, they passed a group of about a hundred and fifty Gittite warriors approaching them. The gibborim were worried. Had they been betrayed? Had Lord Achish set a trap?

  David saw that the leader of the squad was Ittai the Gittite. He led the dissident Gittites that David met earlier. Their numbers had grown.

  They stopped and presented themselves formally to David. Ittai stepped forward and announced, “My lord David, anointed messiah king of Israel, please accept our force of Gittite warriors as your loyal followers. As Yahweh lives, and as my lord the promised king lives, wherever my lord David shall be, whether for death or for life, there also will your servants be. We will fight on your behalf and we will die on your behalf. Take us with you to Ziklag.”

  Benaiah cautioned David, “They are Philistines.”

  More murmuring in the group of leaders signaled agreement with Benaiah.

  But David knew something the others did not. He turned to the rest of his men and announced, “Does anyone know any reason why we should not allow these circumcised warriors of Yahweh to join our forces?”

  The gibborim muttered and buzzed with surprise. Circumcised warriors of Yahweh? Ittai must have led them in the Israelite sign of their covenant.

  David shouted, “Neither do I! We welcome you, Ittai the Gittite and your number of faithful
gibborim. Now, everyone go each to his own home and retrieve your families and possessions. We meet at Ziklag in a fortnight.”

  Chapter 65

  Ittai felt great hope in his heart as he finished walking the street to his blacksmith forge. David had accepted him and his fellow Gittite warriors into the fold of his gibborim forces. He had secured the favor of Yahweh’s promised messiah king. Maybe redemption was possible for a half breed after all.

  He stopped at the door. The sound of crashing inside told him someone was breaking up his home. Invaders. He drew his sword. He was no coward. He would not try to sneak a peek or come in the back door. He was not afraid of death. He kicked open the door and burst into the room to face the danger fearlessly.

  A woman’s scream of surprise pierced the air. What Ittai had found inside was not danger, it was beauty.

  Ummi was packing up boxes of tools to ready them for transport. He saw her own simple traveling pack at his feet.

  “Ummi. What are you doing here?”

  “I am packing up your tools for travel to Ziklag.”

  “How did you know I was moving to Ziklag?”

  She smiled without words.

  He said, “Did you follow me out to the valley?”

  She said, “I follow you lots of places.” She looked at him like a puppy fearful of punishment.

  Ittai complained, “Well, that ruins my ability to detect spies.”

  She quipped, “Since you will not have me as wife, I have left my father and mother to become your servant.”

  He sighed. “Ummi, what am I going to do with you?”

  “Feed me and house me. I will perform all the duties of a household servant for you, with none of the bothers of a wife.”

  “Ummi, you will not.”

  “I will.”

  “Are you disobeying me?”

  “Does that mean I am your servant?”

  He growled with frustration.

  She picked up an awl on the table and moved toward the door as she spoke, “You were just accepted into the community of Israel by the messiah king himself, against all your fears of cursedness. And now you refuse to allow another cursed one the same grace you have been shown. Shame on you, Ittai.”

  He sighed again. It was all he could do, since he did not have much to argue with.

  She stepped up to the door and pushed him aside. She backed up against the door and placed the awl at her earlobe against the door. The rite of bond servanthood was to puncture the earlobe with an awl into the door of the household of the master. It was a piercing of permanent devotion.

  And it was painful.

  He cried out, “Ummi, no!” He moved to try to stop her.

  But it was too late.

  She jammed the awl into the door and squealed with pain.

  That sound pierced Ittai’s soul with as much pain as she experienced. His love for her was so deep, he would take on himself anything that she would feel.

  His hand lightly touched her ear, now bleeding down the door. He could not touch her to add any more pain.

  Instead he dropped to the ground on his knees and bawled like a baby, clutching her skirt.

  “I cannot,” he cried.

  “You can.” She stayed still, the pain throbbing in her ear.

  He said, “I cannot put you through the pain. I cannot give you a family.”

  “I do not want a family, Ittai of Gath. I want you. And the only pain I cannot bear to experience is the pain of a life without you. I would rather be your barren servant than a fertile queen in the house of a Philistine Lord.”

  He looked up at her. He knew she meant it. He felt the same way. In fact, he had resigned himself to a miserable existence, rather than put her through the pain of childlessness. He refused to reproduce because he was of Nephilim blood and he did not want to further the lineage of corruption.

  He rose up from the floor. His crying had turned to sniffling. He put his hand on the awl and gently pulled it from her ear and the door.

  She winced and whimpered. He winced and whimpered with her.

  He put his lips to her bloody ear as if to heal it with his kiss, to taste the blood of her suffering.

  He then whispered into her ear, “Ummi, my beloved, you shall never be my servant. Never. I will only accept you by my side as my wife. Will you have this miserable half-man as your husband?”

  She looked up into his tear-stained red eyes and all the pain had gone away. She said, “You are a half-angel. And you are accepted by the messiah. I love you, Ittai of Gath, and I will follow you and your god to the depths of Sheol — as your wife.”

  They kissed.

  And all the world fell away.

  Chapter 66

  David washed up and put on a new robe and tunic. Flowers put out by the servants spruced up his temporary domicile in Gath. The preparations were to accommodate two arriving travelers and their retinue before they left for Ziklag. Whether the two travelers would get along was what worried David most.

  The travelers were his two wives, Abigail of Carmel and Ahinoam of Jezreel. He had a squad of his bodyguard collect them from their respective homes and accompany them to Gath. They were to meet with David there and journey with him to their new home in Ziklag.

  The problem was that the wives had not met each other until this journey. Worse yet, they had not even heard of each other.

  David had met Ahinoam at the city of Hebron, shortly after Michal had been taken from him by Saul and married to another man. He was lonely and on the run and feeling abandoned by Yahweh when he met Ahinoam.

  Ahinoam worked with horses, so David met her when he housed his own in her stables. He immediately fell for her exotic charm and raven black hair. She was young and thin like Michal, and with a fiery temperament. He married her in secret and left her in Hebron when he traveled to deliver his family to Moab. She understood the danger of traveling with him while he was pursued by Saul, so she waited for him to send for her when the time was right.

  Abigail had also waited to be sent for from Carmel when the time was right. And that time was now. Unfortunately, David had made a point never to discuss his previous marriage to Ahinoam with anyone, including Abigail. His commanding leaders knew of the union but did not speak of it. What their lord did not want to discuss was his own business. But they suspected that he was embarrassed by his impulsive desire to soothe the pain of losing Michal by so quickly replacing her with a woman of similar qualities. But judging by Ahinoam’s beauty and the penetrating orgasmic screams she made at night, that could be overheard by everyone, they suspected his embarrassment was alleviated rather satisfactorily.

  David rode to meet them at the gates of Gath upon their arrival. The women rode behind Joab and Abishai, and behind them, the party of twenty warriors.

  Joab and Abishai approached David with stern faces and rolled their eyes simultaneously. They saluted David. Joab said, “My Lord, they are all yours. Abishai and I request a three day leave to rest from this most wearying journey.”

  There was something in their words that carried more than they were saying.

  David said, “Granted,” and they immediately gave looks of relief and galloped their horses like a getaway from a crime. They left David to watch Abigail and Ahinoam approaching him on their horses. He smiled and held his hands out in a welcome to the beauties bundled in desert robes for travel.

  They had both pulled down their hoods and rode with stern postures. They looked forward frowning, without acknowledging David, and passed him by.

  He gulped, knowing he was in trouble—big trouble. He dismissed the escort and chased after the women to lead them to their new home.

  He rode before them and when they arrived at their new home, he helped Abigail dismount. Ahinoam didn’t wait for him. She simply jumped down from her mount, and they followed him silently into the large, stone brick home, as servants took their luggage from the camel.

  When the door had closed, they both turned to David with very angry
faces.

  He said, “Let me explain.”

  Abigail ignored David, looked at Ahinoam and said, “Shall we let our husband explain, wife number one?”

  Ahinoam replied without looking at David, “I do not think so, wife number two. I am too weary from a long ride and in need of some rest.”

  David’s countenance dropped. He did not know how he was going to fix this problem.

  Ahinoam added, “But since we are two wives and not one, then we apparently will have to coordinate everything with each other, lest our husband get too confused with his appetite for excess.”

  “Oh yes,” said Abigail, still dripping with sarcasm. “Well, I can say as wife number two,” she said the word “two” with great disdain, “I surely cannot have sex, since I am in the way of women. How about you, wife number one?”

  Ahinoam responded with equal biting sarcasm, “I think I too am in the way of women, so I surely cannot have sexual congress with our husband.” She said “our” with contempt.

  They were clever, these two, as Yahweh himself forbade sex with a wife when she was in the way of women. It was uncleanness, and would result in a separation from the community.

  Abigail said, “Perhaps he has a third wife we also do not know about, that he can visit to fulfill those needs, since he will not be receiving it from us.”

  They both finally looked at David with wide eyes, expecting an answer, as if to say, “Well?”

  David gulped. “There are no others.”

  “Other than Michal, that is,” said Abigail.

  “I told you about Michal,” defended David. “And that is my marriage into the royal family. I told you, Saul took her away and had her remarried.”

  Ahinoam said, “Would you like the two of us to travel to Gibeah and try to get her back for you? We can persuade the king that two wives are just not enough for our hungry little husband, so gluttonous for wives is he.”

  Abigail jumped in, “Would you mind showing us our bedchamber, husband, and please find a good pillow to sleep on the floor because we have headaches of such ferocity that we simply must be left alone. No sex tonight, and for Yahweh knows how long.”