"Saul should never have allowed this," Seth muttered under his breath. He looked nervously around to make sure none but his two brothers were listening before adding, "David’s barely a man…still a boy really…and he isn’t even carrying a sword."
True. He didn’t own a sword. Saul had offered his own sword and armor to David, but David had opted to go forth against carrying the weapons he was most familiar with – a shepherd’s staff and sling. These were his only weapons – these and the five smooth stones he’d gathered from a nearby brook and placed in the shepherd’s bag at his side. Tobiah could only hope David, armed with so little in the way of physical weapons, would be armed with the heavenly power he’d so confidently spoken of to Saul.
"The Lord that delivered me out of the lion’s paw and out of the bear’s paw," David had said, "He will deliver me out of this Philistine’s hand."
David had always placed his fate and his faith in the Lord’s hands. Where others’ faith seemed to fail them, his always seemed rock solid and unshakable. Tobiah was one of those whose faith now wavered. He had the dark, ominous feeling he was watching David walk to an untimely death.
Goliath was also watching. He had watched David intently from the moment the young shepherd clambered over the barricade. He watched now with a look of utter contempt as David drew closer.
"Am I a dog," the giant demanded, looking scornfully at the staff in David’s hand, "that you come to me with staves? Baal-zebub take you! Dagon and Ashtoreth curse your stinking, Hebrew hide! Come to me, boy, and I’ll give your flesh to the fowls of the air and to the beasts of the field!"
Tobiah felt a cold chill run up his spine, but David seemed unshaken by the Philistine’s curses and threats.
"You come to me with a sword, and with a spear, and with a shield," David loudly replied, "but I come to you in the name of the Lord of Hosts, the God of Israel’s armies, whom you have defied. This day will the Lord deliver you into my hand, and I will smite you, and take your head from you, and I will give the carcasses of the host of the Philistines this day to the fowls of the air, and to the wild beasts of the earth that all the earth may know there is a God in Israel."
He paused for a moment then added, "And all this assembly shall know that the Lord saves not with sword and spear, for the battle is the Lord’s, and He will give you into our hands."
David had always possessed the ability to wax poetic, but Goliath was unimpressed by David’s beautiful words. And why should he be? Up until this day all Israel’s men had trembled and quaked before him. What threat was a boy armed with nothing but a staff and a sling?
Tobiah watched as the enormous Philistine hefted his spear above his shoulder and motioned for his shield bearer to stand to one side. No matter how just the cause, if Tobiah were David, he would either be running for the barricades’ safety or dropping to his knees to beg for mercy. But David did neither of things. He surprised Tobiah and everyone else by charging headlong at the angry Philistine.
A deafening roar rose from both sides of the valley. From the Philistines’ ranks came catcalls, jeers, and encouragement to kill the impudent Hebrew. The hosts of Israel cheered for Saul’s unlikely champion. The noise was deafening.
Joel’s hand tightened on Tobiah’s shoulder. Apparently Tobiah wasn’t the only one touched by Dread’s cold fingers.
David, still running toward Goliath, now cast aside his staff and reached into his scrip – the leather shepherd’s bag at his side – to find one of the five stones he’d placed there earlier.
Tobiah watched David press the stone into the sling’s braided, flax pouch then whirl the sling in a rapid blur by its two long cords. David and Tobiah had practiced this motion countless times in the hills behind their homes in Bethlehem, and David was an uncontested master of this simple shepherd’s weapon. But a sling was hardly enough to kill a towering Philistine covered from head to toe in shining armor.
Tobiah looked at the curved, metal corselets of Goliath’s body armor – at the impenetrable metal band encircling Goliath’s brushy-topped helmet. The flying stone might sting and leave a large welt, but it would only make the Philistine angrier.
Goliath ignored David’s sling. He drew his mighty arm back and readied his spear for a powerful cast. But David was quicker. The stone whipped free of the sling. It streaked like a shooting star at the giant, striking him squarely between the eyes. For a moment the Philistine stood where he was, staring at David with surprise on his brutish face. Then slowly – as if he were a mighty cedar being felled by a woodcutter’s ax – he toppled forward, landing flat in the dirt. A small cloud of dust rose up around his still form.
It was almost as if the giant’s fall had been some predetermined signal, agreed upon by the armies on both sides of the valley. The Philistines’ raucous cries ceased. The Hebrews’ hoarse shouts faded. Silence – dumbfounded silence – reigned for several moments over the Valley of Elah.
Tobiah listened to his own breathing, to his pounding heart. Time seemed to stand still. David, however, was untouched by the spell. Swift as an arrow, he dashed to his fallen foe and drew the Philistine’s massive sword from its sheath.
Tobiah watched as the heavy sword came up, down, and lopped off the fallen giant’s head. The spell broke. A throaty triumphant roar erupted from Israel’s soldiers, and they poured over the barricades’ sides like flood waters breaching a swollen stream’s banks. On the opposite hills, Tobiah glimpsed panicked Philistines fleeing the wave of oncoming Hebrews.
Joel, Seth, and David’s brothers joined in the triumphant chorus and sprang over the barricades to chase the fleeing Philistine hordes.
Tobiah didn’t even stop to think about what he was doing. Shepherd’s staff in hand, he vaulted onto the battlefield and followed the eager tidal wave.
—
It was a wild, exhilarating run across the Nahal ha-Elah’s gently sloping surface. The valley shook beneath countless soldiers’ pounding feet, and Tobiah smiled with grim satisfaction as he watched the Philistines flee.
They were running like rabbits pursued by hungry dogs. He saw a few of them disappear over the hills where they’d so recently made their camp, but most of them opted for the easier route – running directly down the valley to Ekron and Gath.
Tobiah tightly gripped his shepherd’s staff. He was a fast runner and could easily outdistance most of the Israelite soldiers jogging beside him. It wouldn’t be long before he caught up with the Philistines who lagged behind, and he could then use his staff to bring God’s justice upon their heads.
His pulse raced at the thought until another consideration – an all too recent memory – slowed his feet and brought him to a grudging halt.
"I’ve convinced your mother to let you go with David," his father’s voice echoed in his mind. "You probably don’t realize what a difficult decision this was for her. When she was still a girl, she lost several family members to Israel’s enemies. Don’t go anywhere near the fighting, Tobiah. You have to promise me you’ll stay far beyond harm’s reach."
He’d made the promise. He’d made a great many promises which were now coming back to thwart him. Soldiers were already leaving him behind and there would soon be no Philistines left for him to fight. But he’d made a promise.
Angrily, Tobiah kicked a stone at the empty hills where the Philistines had camped. He watched until the last of Saul’s soldiers disappeared over the hilltops before turning to walk back to Israel’s camp. He didn’t go far, however, before his eyes flickered back to the Philistine tents.
He’d promised to stay beyond harm’s reach, and harm was now making its way, as quickly as it could, down the Valley of Elah to the Plains of Philistia. Would it be a breach of his promise to briefly explore the empty Philistine camps?
Ignoring the guilt gnawing at his stomach, Tobiah turned toward the tent-covered hills. It was an eerie feeling to walk in a place that, for the last forty days, Israel’s enemies had called their own. Only a short time before it would
have meant death for a Hebrew to be caught walking here alone, yet Tobiah could now approach with impunity.
Fires still smoldered here and there. Weapons rested on rocks and against trees, their owners vanished into thin air. Eeriest of all were the teraphim images of Dagon, Ashtoreth, and Baal-zebub – brought by the Philistine commanders as talismans of good luck. The teraphim stared at Tobiah with sightless wooden eyes, making his skin crawl. He shuddered, shook off the uncomfortable feeling, and approached the silent tents.
Tents of all shapes, sizes, and colors littered the hills. Some were plain, unremarkable ones, sewn from goatskins and barely large enough to shelter two men. Others were of finer materials, more colorful, and large enough to house six or eight men at a time. One tent in particular stood out from the rest. It was much taller and much more spacious than the others. It was sewn from a lightweight, white material like none Tobiah had ever seen, and two purple banners on tall, wooden poles fluttered above it in a cool breeze blowing across the hilltop. Cautiously, Tobiah approached, parted a door flap, and peered inside.
He half expected a snarling bearded Philistine to leap out and thrust a sword at his chest; but the tent was unoccupied, so he nervously invited himself in.
Whoever this tent’s owner had been, he’d definitely possessed power and expensive tastes. Intricately woven dyed rugs covered the dirt floor, and gold and silver water jars stood in a silent row against one wall. In a corner stood a large wicker basket with several folded purple and crimson robes on it. Tobiah knelt beside the basket, running his fingers in wonder over the robes’ soft fabric.
Saul wore robes like these. Tobiah had seen Saul’s fine attire when he followed David to Saul’s tent. The colors alone made these robes extremely expensive. The purple could only be purchased from the Phoenicians of the distant cities Sidon and Tyre, and Tobiah had once heard the costly crimson was made from a certain insect’s eggs. It was obvious even to his inexperienced eyes he’d stumbled upon the tent of a powerful Philistine seren – a king. The Philistines had departed in such haste even their lords’ treasures had been abandoned.
Tobiah moved the stack of robes off the basket and opened the lid to see what other treasures might be hiding inside. He wasn’t disappointed by what he found. With reverent awe, he removed a finely crafted dagger. He turned it over and over in his hands, admiring it from every angle.
The dagger’s slender blade was made of the finest Philistine iron, and the hilt was delicately carved from some large animal’s ivory tusk. This, in turn, was decorated with gold-inlaid spirals — an ornamental weapon fit for a king.
Quickly and carefully, Tobiah wrapped the dagger in one of the purple robes and placed the confiscated bundle in his shepherd’s bag. The Philistines wouldn’t be back for these things, and Tobiah had his own plans for them, but there was another object he desired even more than these, and he left the tent to search for it.
The greatest treasures of this abandoned camp weren’t the linens or silver or gold. More valuable than these were the Philistines’ abandoned swords. The secret of iron was still the Philistines’ own well-guarded secret, and Canaan’s best swords were forged by the skilled hands of Philistine blacksmiths. Tobiah couldn’t keep an eager grin from his face as he leisurely searched the camp. There were many swords to choose from, and he wanted one of just the right shape, size, and balance.
Seth would throw a fit when he saw Tobiah with a Philistine sword in his hand; but, at the moment, Tobiah didn’t really care. An opportunity like this might never come again, and he wasn’t going to pass it up.
Technically speaking, this camp’s spoils belonged to the soldiers who had fought the war; but he wasn’t taking much, and he doubted anyone other than Seth would challenge him about it. He was so engrossed with these thoughts when he finally found his sword that he didn’t notice the danger until it was already upon him.
The sound of a twig snapping under a foot was the first warning he wasn’t alone. His next warning came when a cold glint of sunlight flashed off a swinging blade. The weapon’s downward stroke missed his head by less than a handbreadth. It would have split his skull down the middle if he’d moved any slower to avoid it.
Tobiah spun in panic, lifting his new sword to ward off the next blow. Several thoughts passed through his head as he faced the attacking Philistine. Foremost was the guilty knowledge of the grief his death would bring to his family.
The new sword felt unfamiliar in Tobiah’s hand. He was more schooled in the staff than the sword, but his staff was gone – left behind in the tent where he’d found the kingly dagger. His only weapon was this sword.
Somehow he managed to stop the Philistine’s second blow, but it was a simple matter for the skilled swordsman to knock Tobiah’s newly acquired weapon out of his hand. Defenseless now, Tobiah stumbled and fell to the ground. He was at his attacker’s mercy, and there was no trace of mercy in the Philistine’s eyes.
Tobiah threw one arm across his face and waited for the killing blow. Miraculously, it didn’t come. The Philistine grunted, staggered backward. A javelin sprouted from the burly Philistine’s chest. The man’s eyes widened in surprise as his fingers clutched at the Israelite weapon, and, horrorstruck, Tobiah watched his attacker sink slowly to the earth.
The spell broke. Tobiah leaped to his feet and turned away from the dying man. His stomach twisted. He fell to his knees, fighting an overwhelming urge to retch. A familiar hand gripped his violently shaking shoulder.
"Tobiah. Are you all right?"
He looked up, stared blankly at Joel, and slowly nodded. He wasn’t really all right. He was the opposite of it, but he accepted Joel’s outstretched hand and allowed his brother to pull him to his feet.
"Something told me I should turn back and see where you were. I’m glad I listened. You would have been dead if I didn’t. What were you thinking, Tobiah? Were you trying to get yourself killed?"
Tobiah didn’t answer. Even if he’d wanted to, he wouldn’t have been able to find words to speak.
Joel seemed ready to chastise him again, but a sudden wrenching in Tobiah’s stomach precluded the lecture. He doubled over and this time couldn’t stop his stomach’s contents from coming up. Joel steadied him until the vomiting stopped and released him when he stood.
Tobiah took a shaky step away from his brother. He lowered his eyes in shame.
"The first time you see a man die is the hardest," Joel said, glancing meaningfully at the Philistine’s motionless form. "It’s even worse if you’re the one who had to do it. But it’s war. If you don’t kill the enemy, the enemy will kill you. Even so, it’s never a pleasant task."
Task? It hardly seemed the word to describe what Joel had just done. Tobiah still couldn’t reconcile his mind with the thought of his good-natured brother killing another human being. Something had changed within Joel since he arrived here. Something had to have changed for him to talk so calmly about what had just happened. Something was changing in Tobiah as well, but he wasn’t sure whether he liked it or not.
"I see you’ve found a sword," Joel said stooping to pick up Tobiah’s fallen memento. He gave his younger brother a long, solemn look and tiredly shook his head.
"I suppose it’s inevitable you’ll one day end up using it. When we’re all back home again, I’ll teach you how to use it. I won’t always be around to save your life; and, knowing you, this is probably the first but not the last time you’ll be up against a Philistine."
There was a grim smile on Joel’s face, but Tobiah felt anything but humorous. He stared at his feet and only half-heartedly took the sword when Joel placed it in his hands.
"Let’s go," Joel said, motioning for Tobiah to follow. "There may be more of them lurking around here. You look like you’ve had your fill of excitement for one day."
Fill of excitement… Once more the wrong words for the shock and horror Tobiah was feeling, but he was more than ready to go. All the way back to Bethlehem if possible. For the first time in
his life, Bethlehem’s tedious tranquility didn’t sound bad at all.
Chapter Ten
י
And it came to pass as they came, when David
was returned from the slaughter of the Philistine,
that the women came out of all cities of Israel,
singing and dancing, to meet king Saul, with tabrets,
with joy, and with instruments of musick.
1 Samuel 18:6
It seemed all Gibeah must have come out into the streets to celebrate Saul’s triumphant return. Long before he reached the city, young boys who had been working in the fields came running to announce his arrival. Women – most of whom had sons, husbands, or brothers in Saul’s army – crowded the streets, filling the air with the jingle of tabrets, the flutes’ high-pitched whistles, the metallic crash of cymbals, and harps’ humming vibrations. Above all could be heard the noise of joyous voices.
"Hika Shaul ba-alafan ve-David be-rivvotain!" They sang these words over and over. "Saul has slain his thousands, and David his ten thousands!"
Among the returning heroes, David, because of his victory over Goliath, was being hailed as the greatest of them all; but there was already trouble in Saul’s household because of it.
Mara sighed, cast a guilty look at the citadel and turned her eyes back to the celebrating crowd. Michal was noticeably absent from the gathering of royal family members and servants who had come to join the jubilant throngs. The princess had locked herself in her room and refused to come out. She’d been there, weeping and wailing, since news of David’s victory arrived.
"It’s not fair!" she cried when Mara came and attempted to comfort her. "Nothing ever works out for me! David wasn’t supposed to be Merab’s husband! He wasn’t even supposed to be there to fight the giant and win her for his wife! Why does she always get everything she wants? Why does misfortune pass her by and always follow me?"
Mara couldn’t think of anything to console her weeping cousin but quickly realized Michal didn’t really want to be consoled. She was too busy feeling sorry for herself. She basked in her misery. Eventually it became so depressing to be around her Mara made an excuse to escape.
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