A Captain in Israel

by Alex Chappell

  The question angered him – just as she had known it would – but Tobiah was careful not to show it on his face.

  "You’re right, Dinah," he said. "I am of age. But you can’t be too careful about who you marry. And to tell you the honest truth, I’m not so sure I’m ready for a wife. Or for all the responsibility that would come with her."

  Dinah smiled. It was the thin, pinched smile which never failed to annoy Tobiah. She had always been one to act as if she were superior to everyone else. Maybe it came from being Barak and Rebecca’s only child.

  "I’m betrothed," Dinah said. "Of course I have a maturity beyond the average person my age. But some of us can’t be so fortunate, can we?"

  "You’re absolutely right," Tobiah said, surprising Dinah by agreeing with her. "Most of us aren’t as mature as you are and aren’t ready for marriage at such a young age. But maybe that’s a good thing. I wouldn’t want to be married off too early and end up with the wrong kind of wife. You know the kind I’m talking about. One of those shallow girls who never stops talking about herself. Or, even worse, the arrogant type who thinks she’s better and more mature than everyone else. I pity the unsuspecting man who gets trapped in a marriage like that."

  He knew it was a mean-spirited thing to say, but it was difficult to hold back a triumphant smile when Dinah’s lips became even more pinched than usual. Her hands worked violently at another dough ball, and he felt guilty satisfaction.

  "I hate to walk out on this ‘most interesting’ conversation," Dinah said. She slapped the rounded lump of dough onto a wooden board and got to her feet. "But I have a basket of freshly baked bread to deliver to the adults in this house. If you’ll excuse me a moment, I’ll be on my way."

  "Allow me!" Tobiah exclaimed, and he quickly snatched the basket away from her. "I’ll deliver this heavy basket so you don’t have to. In fact, I insist. I wouldn’t want to take you away from your mature, womanly duties here at the oven."

  Before Dinah could protest, Tobiah hurried into the courtyard and ascended the narrow flight of steps leading to the rooftop patio.

  He wouldn’t have minded coming to Hebron if it weren’t for Dinah and the disagreeable company she always was. He liked the area’s low, gray hills; its copious barley fields; and its tranquil, terraced vineyards. But Dinah had the ability to sap the warmth and color out of even the sunniest, greenest spring day. It was hard to understand how two perfectly pleasant people like Barak and Rebecca could end up with such an arrogant, conceited daughter.

  He’d once made the mistake of complaining about Dinah. He’d told his mother just what he thought of his younger cousin. But Athaliah defended Dinah, explaining she was the only child in her family – that she was struggling to find her place.

  Struggling to find her place? Tobiah angrily shook his head. Struggling to find what place? She was the only child in her family. What kind of struggle could it be?

  "I think you’re right, Caleb. I think this is a fulfillment Samuel’s prophecy in Gilgal. But it’s intriguing the Lord would pick an obscure boy from Bethlehem to take Saul’s place."

  Tobiah stopped in mid-stride as his uncle’s voice echoed down the steps. He knew he shouldn’t eavesdrop, but already he could tell this was probably something he wanted to hear.

  "So you don’t think I’m reading something into this that isn’t actually there?" It was his father’s voice this time, and, by the seriousness of Caleb’s tone, Tobiah was now certain he wanted to listen in.

  "There were others present at the minchah," Caleb continued. "All the town elders. Jesse and his wife. All of Jesse’s children. None of them seemed to interpret Samuel’s words the way I did."

  "None of them were at Gilgal when Samuel rebuked Saul," Barak soberly replied. "I think you interpreted it the only way it can be interpreted. Perhaps the Lord is choosing to keep His purposes hidden from most minds. I’m sure you know as well as I do what would happen if Saul somehow discovered Samuel had anointed David to be king."

  There was a long, tense silence, and Tobiah felt his heart race. Is that what this sudden trip to Hebron was all about? Because his father thought Samuel had anointed David to be king? It seemed too incredible to be true, but his father and Barak sounded serious.

  Tobiah felt a gentle jab of guilt as he settled himself on the steps, waiting to hear more, but this was too good to miss, and he knew the topic would immediately change the moment he showed his face.

  "It is written in the Torah," Barak said, "that God will choose our kings for us. The Lord told Saul thirty years ago the kingdom was to be taken from him. It appears the ‘man after God’s own heart’ has finally been chosen. But I never in my wildest dreams would have imagined it would be a shepherd boy from Bethlehem. Especially so many years after the prophecy was made. Especially one of our relatives. David has been greatly blessed by the Lord."

  "Has he?"

  Rebecca, Barak’s wife, now entered the conversation.

  "Is it a blessing? Or is it the opposite of being blessed? The poor boy and his family will be in danger. Surely you’ve heard the rumors coming out of Gibeah. They say Saul is crazy. They say he’s possessed by evil spirits. He’ll kill David and his entire family if he perceives David as a threat to his kingship."

  A long silence followed her words. Eventually, Tobiah’s father spoke.

  "At the moment, it seems Saul knows nothing of this. And the fewer there are who do know of it, the better it will be. I think we should keep our thoughts to ourselves. David is currently in the king’s service and would be in grave danger if Saul learned the purpose of Samuel’s visit to Bethlehem. For the time being, David has found favor with Saul. I’ve been told he’s now Saul’s personal armor-bearer. If David is truly to become king, we should allow the Lord to reveal it in His own due time."

  "Agreed," Barak said. "We’ll definitely keep it to ourselves. But you didn’t mention before that David is in Saul’s employ. This becomes more and more interesting by the moment."

  Tobiah stretched his head upward, eager to hear more, but his eavesdropping came to a sudden end.

  "What are you doing on the stairs? I thought you were taking the bread up to the roof!"

  Tobiah nearly dropped the basket he was holding as Dinah’s shrill voice echoed from the courtyard. Quickly, he scrambled up the steps where he found his father waiting for him.

  "What have you overheard? How long were you listening?"

  "Not long," Tobiah mumbled. He stared sheepishly at his feet. "I just heard you saying something about David becoming Saul’s armor-bearer. And…and something else about David’s anointing…"

  A concerned scowl darkened Caleb’s face, but Rebecca interceded before he could start chastising.

  "What you’ve just heard," she said in a whisper, "could be very dangerous to David and his family. You realize that, don’t you, Tobiah?"

  "I’d fight for David if he needed me to. I’d fight Saul’s entire army to keep David safe."

  Tobiah said it fiercely. It came out of his mouth before he had time to think. But at least Barak was now smiling.

  "You’re a brave boy," his uncle said, "and I’m sure you wouldn’t hesitate to spring to David’s defense. But his best protection is for Saul to never find out what has happened. At least not until the Lord is ready to reveal it. This has been hidden from men’s understanding for a reason. I know you’re a smart enough boy to understand this. I believe you can keep this secret for David’s sake."

  Tobiah nodded. He understood. And he realized his uncle meant these comments as a compliment. But Tobiah wasn’t a ‘boy.’ He was seventeen – old enough by any standard to be called a man. Despite his uncle’s friendly intentions, he felt a small indignant flame ignite inside him.

  "There you are!" Dinah appeared at the roof’s edge with her finger pointing accusingly. "He was eavesdropping on your conversation. You know that, don’t you?" There was a triumphant smirk on her face, but her accusation didn’t elicit the response she was h
oping for.

  "Dinah," Rebecca said, "don’t you have other loaves needing your attention?"

  "Yes. I just put some in the oven. But—"

  "I think," Rebecca interrupted, "it would be a good idea for you to go back down and make sure the bread doesn’t burn."

  Dinah first looked surprised then insulted. Tobiah might have enjoyed her discomfort if not for how uncomfortable he was feeling. His cousin looked back and forth between him and her mother then whirled abruptly and stomped back down the stairs.

  "Sit down, Tobiah," Caleb ordered. "We have important things to discuss."

  Tobiah cautiously sat. He deserved whatever lecture he was about to get. But it would be worth it. Everything about Samuel’s strange visit to Bethlehem suddenly made sense. Unexpected possibilities lurked on Tobiah’s horizon.

  Chapter Five

  ה

  For I will not trust in my bow,

  neither shall my sword save me. But

  thou hast saved us from our enemies…

  Psalm 44:6-7

  "What are you doing here?"

  "Can’t I just stop by occasionally to see how my younger sister is doing?"

  Michal scowled at Merab, and Mara instinctively moved to a far corner of the room. She found a place where she could watch the upcoming war of words without getting caught in the middle of it. She noticed her sisters, Merab’s handmaidens, were also keeping their distance, and she exchanged quick, nervous glances with Keren and Ayalah.

  Michal and Merab had both inherited their mother’s raven-black hair and captivating green eyes, but that was where the physical similarities ended. Merab was tall and thin with a sharp pinched face and lips that had long ago formed themselves into a permanent pout. Michal’s features were much softer and more graceful. Their differences in temperament and personality, however, were even greater than their physical differences. If Mara were to compare them to seasons, Michal would be a warm spring morning whereas Merab was a cold winter evening. This was probably why the two of them could never get along. That and the hidden jealousy the king’s daughters had always seemed to harbor toward each other.

  "I’m sure there’s something you’ve come here about other than just to see how I’m doing," Michal said. Her voice was low and icy. "You might as well just say what you’re here to say so you can get out and go away. Have you come to gloat about something? Or do you just want to brighten my day with the sneer you’re always wearing?"

  Merab merely smiled and shook her head like a mother might do at an angry child.

  "I really thought I’d catch you in a better mood if I stopped by your room in the morning," Merab said, "but I guess your mood is foul no matter what time of the day it is. I think you would benefit from the harp lessons father has arranged for me. The soothing music would do wonders for your irritable disposition."

  "Harp lessons?"

  "That’s right. Haven’t you heard? I spoke with father about it a few days ago, and he’s set aside time for his harpist to teach me how to play. I’m sure you know the young man I’m speaking of. What’s his name? Was it David? Yes. I think that’s it."

  There was a malicious gleam in Merab’s eyes, but it was Michal who Mara carefully watched. Michal’s face turned several shades of red before she finally managed, in a strangled whisper, to say, "When did you develop this sudden interest in music, Merab?"

  "Oh, I’ve always been interested in things of great beauty. And there’s definitely something beautiful about David. Oh, did I say David? Silly me. I meant David’s music. Speaking of which, I’d better be going. David will be waiting in Father’s council chamber to begin my first lesson. Shalom, Michal. Enjoy the rest of your day."

  Merab turned, her skirts swirling regally around her ankles, and she motioned for Keren and Ayalah to follow. Michal and Mara stood where they were – frozen in dumbfounded silence – until Merab and Mara’s sisters disappeared from sight. The moment she was gone, Michal exploded.

  "Did you hear? Did you hear what she’s done? That evil little monster! Do you see why I detest her so much? Somehow she’s found out I like David, and now she wants him for herself. She wouldn’t even be interested in him if she didn’t know I was! You didn’t say anything to your sisters about my feelings, did you?"

  Michal faced Mara with a defiance, both hands placed firmly on her hips, and Mara raised her hands in a gesture of self-defense.

  "I haven’t said a word of it to either of them. I promise you. I haven’t."

  "And you’re sure you haven’t mentioned anything to anyone else? Not a single word?"

  "I haven’t said a thing. I give you my solemn promise."

  But even as she protested her innocence, Mara felt a sharp guilty pang. She had let something slip to someone. Merab’s information could have come from Mara’s father. It was more likely, however, Merab heard palace gossip about Michal flirting with David in the courtyard. Nearly half the palace servants knew about it by now.

  "Maybe you could speak with your father," Mara quickly suggested, seeing Michal was growing more and more distressed. "Maybe he can arrange harp lessons for you as well."

  "I can’t!" Michal wailed. "It would just prove David means something to me! I have to beat that conniving, little viper at her own game! I have to act like I don’t care she gets to spend time with him. Somehow I have to take away all the evil joy she’s getting from this."

  "So you’re going to forget about David? You’re going to let go of your feelings for him?"

  "I’m going to ignore him entirely – act completely uninterested!"

  Mara nodded as if this made perfect sense; but, truthfully, it made no sense at all. Merab already knew Michal’s true feelings, and Mara was sure Michal wouldn’t be able to hold out long. Mara had the feeling this was going to be the start of another emotionally draining week.

  —

  "Ashdod’s and Ekron’s seranim have arrived with their delegations. What are your wishes, my king?"

  Achish glanced at his chamberlain and scratched his beard.

  "Has Noph prepared our little surprise?" he asked.

  "The general sends his assurances all will be ready as instructed," the chamberlain replied. "Will there be anything else, my king, or would you like me to announce you to the lords?"

  "Not yet," Achish replied. "Wait outside my chambers. I have one last thing to do before I address those blithering idiots."

  "Very well, my king."

  The steward bowed, backed out of the room, and closed the large cedar doors behind him. Alone, Achish turned to the long low table at the back of his room.

  Three graven images stood on the tabletop – one image apiece for each of Philistia’s major gods. Achish carefully prostrated himself before them.

  As a much younger king, he had disregarded these gods, and his armies had been humiliated at Michmash because of it. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. This time, the gods would receive their due reverence, and it would be Saul’s soldiers, not Achish’s, who suffered the ignominy of defeat.

  Achish looked up at the three bronze statuettes of the gods and felt a cold shiver go up his spine. Perhaps it was the hollow, lifeless eyes of Baalzebub, ‘Lord of the Flies’ that put this chill into him, or maybe it was the fearsome bearded face of Dagon. Of the three gods, only Ashtoreth, goddess of fertility and love, seemed friendly toward him. Maybe this was because of his obvious preference for the sensual rites of her worship.

  But the treasure rooms of all three gods’ temples had been greatly enriched by Achish’s generous offerings, and this gave him courage to bow his head and speak to them.

  "Gods of Philistia," he murmured, "hear the words of your humble servant, and grant him victory over his enemies. I honor you today and ask for your aid in return. Let Philistia’s armies grind the Hebrews under their heels. Do this that your names’ glory may reign supreme over this land forever. Do this that your enemies’ heads may adorn your walls and that their gold and silver may fill
your treasure rooms. They and their one God have defied you. Let them see your power in our next glorious battle."

  It was a short prayer, but all Achish’s prayers were short. He uttered this one out of a sense of ceremonial obligation and hoped, as he walked away from the table, that his gods couldn’t see the true intentions of his heart. In reality, he cared little for the glory or honor of Philistia’s gods. If their names were glorified through a Philistine victory, all the better for them, but what he truly cared about was his own glory – by whatever means it came.

  "Announce my presence to the lords," he said, pushing his way through the double cedar doors. "I am now ready to address them."

  His steward nodded, scurried away ahead of him, and Achish strode confidently toward his throne room. When he entered, the murmuring that greeted him wasn’t one of friendly welcome, but it was to be expected. Avad-baal of Ekron, one of Achish’s chief rivals, had designs of his own against the Hebrews. While the lords waited for Achish’s arrival, Avad-baal had likely been spreading discord among them.

  Ekron’s young king had already significantly increased the size of his own army and made forays into the Shephelah to engage Saul’s forces. The only thing the brash young fool managed to accomplish, however, was to convince Saul to strengthen his own military presence in the region.

  No matter. After today the rest of Philistia would have little interest in the arrogant lord of Ekron. They would have something bigger – much, much bigger – on their minds.

  "Lords of Philistia!" Achish called out. "My brethren!"

  The murmuring voices slowly quieted.

  "I think you all know why I’ve invited you here today. For nearly two centuries we kings and lords of Philistia have shared a common enemy. Collectively and individually, however, we have continually failed to eliminate this threat. It’s time to remedy the situation. I have called you to Gath to present you with the ultimate solution."

  The room remained silent for a moment. Then an all too familiar and all too insolent voice spoke out.

  "Your ultimate solution isn’t going to be to run from empty shadows in the hills, is it, Achish of Gath?"