"I may have need to speak to you again," David said as Tobiah sullenly led Boaz toward the door. "I’m sure new questions will be brought up after I’ve discussed these things with my officers."
"I am your humble servant," Boaz replied. "I will gladly answer any question you give me."
"Thank you," David said. "Your cooperation is appreciated."
Tobiah didn’t speak to Boaz as he led him toward the supply tents. He didn’t want to talk to anyone. When they reached the tents, however, Boaz forced him out of his silence.
"If he decides to go after Avad-baal’s army, will he allow me to return to my wife and children?"
"You have a family? In Philistia?"
"Yes. I married a Philistine girl. We have two little boys and a third child on the way."
"I can’t speak for David," Tobiah answered. "But I’d expect he won’t stop you from returning if you haven’t been sent to deceive him. David understands how unjust Saul can be. If you’re worried about being handed over to the king, David won’t do that to you."
Boaz breathed an audible sigh of relief, an indication the blacksmith – at least knowingly – wasn’t a part of any plan to lead David and his soldiers to their deaths. Tobiah would have asked more about Boaz’s family, about why any Philistine would want to help David, and about why Boaz had consented to bring that information to David; but suspicious eyes were watching them.
It was unusual, to say the least, for a very Philistine-looking man to stroll, unchallenged, through a Hebrew war camp. Most of the stares were curious, but others were openly hostile.
"This is Boaz," Tobiah said, introducing the visitor to Micah. "He has come to us bearing important information for David, and David has asked that we provide lodgings for him in one of our supply tents." He paused to look at the growing crowd of staring soldiers and, in a low voice, added, "The sooner we get him in a tent, the better."
"This one is emptiest," Micah said, ushering Boaz into the tent nearest them. "There’s room enough for you to stretch out and sleep. I can bring you food or water if you need them."
"At the moment, rest is all I crave," Boaz said. "Todah. Thank you."
Tobiah and Micah nodded then walked outside and stationed themselves near enough to the tent to keep an eye on things but far enough away the blacksmith wouldn’t overhear them.
"Who is this man?" Micah demanded. "Is he a prisoner or a guest?"
"Both, I guess," Tobiah replied. "He’s a Hebrew who has been living among the Philistines – a blacksmith by trade, and a fugitive from Saul."
Micah’s eyes lit up with sudden recognition.
"I thought I recognized his face," he said. "That man is Boaz ben Ithamar. He was once a swordsmith for the king. I remember him from when I was much younger. He was the best swordsmith in all Israel. My father often complains the quality of our swords has never been the same since Saul frightened Boaz into exile."
"Well, he’s back now," Tobiah said. "At least until David decides what to do with the information he’s brought us. In the meantime, it looks as if I get to be his constant watchful companion."
Micah must have detected the resentful note in Tobiah’s voice, because he studied him with appraising eyes.
"David assigned you to watch him?"
"Not in so many words, but I could tell that’s what he wanted. David needs to keep Boaz in our custody until the officers can decide whether or not to launch a surprise attack against the Philistine camp."
"It sounds as if he’s placing a great deal of trust in you."
"Trust?"
"David could have assigned any one of his best soldiers to keep Boaz here," Micah said. "And he chose you. That should tell you something about how he feels about you – not just as his younger cousin, but as a potential soldier."
Tobiah had no response for this. He hadn’t stopped to consider David might trust him. He’d been so upset about being excluded from David’s deliberations he’d chosen to dwell on his anger instead. Now he felt foolish.
"You might be right," he mumbled. "David has given me an important assignment. I shouldn’t take that trust lightly."
"No. You shouldn’t."
Tobiah stared at the supply tent and said, "You don’t think Boaz will try to slip away from our camp, do you?"
"He’s a fugitive from Saul, and he’s being restrained in a camp filled with Saul’s soldiers. What would you do if you were in his place?"
Tobiah didn’t need to answer. Micah knew as well as he did what he would do.
Tobiah’s attention flickered back to the tent. "I think I’ll stay here for a while. At least until I hear back from David."
Micah smiled and walked away, leaving Tobiah to ponder their brief conversation.
How could Tobiah always be so stupid? Any other man would have recognized the importance of the task, but he always assumed the worst.
Maybe he was important to David. Maybe more important than he’d realized. From now on, whatever David asked, he would try not to let his captain down.
Chapter Twenty-Six
כו
Wherefore David arose and went,
he and his men, and slew of the Philistines
two hundred men…
1 Samuel 18:27
The hills surrounding the Nahal Sorek were quiet. It was almost as if they were living creatures rather than the inanimate masses of stone and soil they actually were. It was as if they, like Tobiah, could sense the violence that was shortly to come.
It was the time in early morning when men should still be sleeping, resting from the previous day’s labors; but David’s army was active. His men made preparations under a dark, star-sprinkled sky, and the tension was so thick Tobiah felt as if he could close his hand around it.
The rattle of armor and the metallic ring of hastily gathered weapons echoed through the tents as men strapped armor to their bodies and swords to their waists. These men would soon be trading blows with battle-hardened Philistines, and the odds were many of them would not come back alive.
Tobiah considered this, but also considered his own disappointment at once again being left behind. Regardless of these feelings, he would cheerfully complete his duties here at camp.
"What’s this? Aren’t you going with them?"
"I’m just a courier," Tobiah answered. "David asked me to stay behind."
"Oh. I just assumed that… Well, with that fine sword and all, I thought you must be…" Boaz let his sentence trail off.
"I guess you should be grateful," he said when the awkward silence trailed on. "After all, what man in his right mind would want to march into death’s teeth."
"No man," Tobiah answered. "But it’s hard to let David march out there without being at his side."
"He’s a good friend then?"
"A friend and a cousin."
"I see. In that case, it must be difficult to stay behind."
"Yes." Tobiah watched as they quietly slipped into the darkness, then he turned to Boaz and said, "You’re free to make your way back to Gath any time you choose to leave. David asked me to tell you as soon as he and his troops were away."
Boaz lifted his eyebrows in an expression of surprise before nodding and smiling.
"It’s a relief to hear it. I was beginning to wonder what David would do with me. But I think I’ll wait a little longer. At least until the sun is up and I have a chance to see how successful David has been. I’d have a lot of uncomfortable explaining to do if I left your camp now and happened to cross paths with Avad-baal’s men."
"The supply tent is yours for as long as you need it," Tobiah said. He thought about asking which Philistine had sent Boaz here but remembered the man’s fear when David asked and decided against it.
"Thank you," Boaz said. "I think I’ll go back and get a little more sleep. It’s a long walk to Gath, and the more rested my legs are, the faster they’ll carry me home to my family."
He shuffled into the supply tent and Tobiah thought about the unaske
d question. Boaz was from Gath. Who in Gath would want to help David? It must be someone important. And powerful. It would take both to frighten Boaz enough to make the dangerous journey here, but it was one of those mysteries that would probably never be solved.
It wouldn’t take long for David and his soldiers to reach the Philistines. The sky would be just light enough for them to fight once they arrived, but Saul had sent no reinforcements to strengthen David’s defenses – not even men to replace those who had died. Even with the element of surprise on his side, David was going up against superior forces. He needed every willing swordsman he could get and there was none more willing than Tobiah.
Tobiah took a quick, cautious glance around himself. The camp was empty except for a few of Micah’s supply crew and the sentries David left behind in case the battle went badly. He knew what he should do. He knew what he’d personally committed himself to do. But it would be a simple thing to slip, unseen, into the darkness and follow David across the valley.
Tobiah had caught enough bits and snatches of David’s planning to know the army would cross the trampled fields beneath the city before hastily moving into the hills to the northwest. Any opposition or forward positions met there would be quickly wiped out so David’s army could march unopposed into the main Philistine camp.
If he hurried, Tobiah could reach David shortly after the big battle began. One extra blade might spell the difference between victory and defeat.
All this sounded reasonable and logical, but Tobiah still felt guilty as he mentally justified his intended actions. David had told him to stay at Beth-shemesh, and there were others – not just David – who would want him not to do it. Images of his parents’ concerned faces and of Mara’s frightened eyes paraded across Tobiah’s mind.
He knew what his orders were. He knew what was right. But he couldn’t leave David to face the dangers alone.
Quietly, Tobiah slipped down the hill, picked his way across the valley, and scrabbled up another hill’s slope. He still hadn’t passed the point of no return. He could still change his mind and turn back. But the unmistakable sounds of a battle echoed in his ears.
He forgot about the people who cared about him. He forgot about past promises, and, like a hungry young lion with the scent of fresh blood in its nostrils, Tobiah bounded across the hills.
Perhaps if he had known what was to come, he would have turned his feet in the opposite direction; but he wasn’t thinking anymore. His feet, of their own accord, carried his body into battle.
—
It was the final hour separating morning from night, and Mara stood alone on the flat rooftop of the servants’ quarters. Her heart hammered against her ribs and her breath rushed in and out in short, shallow gasps. She had awakened, panicked, only moments before, bathed in a cold, dripping sweat.
The nightmarish images from her dream still seemed so real it was hard to dismiss them. Even now, Mara could still recall every awful detail. She saw it so clearly she was almost afraid she would be there if she dared to close her eyes again.
The dream had started out harmlessly enough. In it she was standing atop a hill, looking out over a valley she had never before seen. As she looked, a moving figure caught her attention. Tobiah! He was descending the hill on his way to a valley floor she’d never seen. She called out ran after him, but he didn’t hear. He kept running as if urgent business called him.
He moved like a gazelle, but Mara’s feet dragged as if encased in lead. Before she reached the valley floor, Tobiah was already climbing the hills on the other side.
Mara willed herself to move faster. Maybe if she could get a little closer, he would hear her frantic calls. But Tobiah disappeared into a cluster of trees atop the other hills. Her only means of following him now was to listen for the clattering rocks and snapping twigs disturbed by his passage.
A mist rose up around her, and she groped through it, all track of time. Minutes might have passed, or even long dragging hours, before the mist eventually cleared. And now that she could see again, she realized she was crossing a battle ground’s blood-stained soil. The dark earth was littered with broken arrows, cracked shields, and shattered blades. Again she called out Tobiah’s name, her voice now filled with frightened desperation.
Whatever battle had been waged here, it had now moved farther into the murkiness. There was no one near enough to hear her calls. She was just about to turn, just about to go back the way she had come when she saw it – a man’s slumped form reclining as if in sleep.
Mara edged forward, looked at his face, and a cry escaped her lips.
It was Tobiah. His flesh was steeped in death’s gray pallor, and he lay in a pool of his own blood. His lifeless eyes stared blankly at her as Mara collapsed beside him.
Mara pulled herself away from the image and shook her to clear the remnants of this khalom balahot – this awful nightmare – from her mind. Hot tears stung her cheeks, and her body shook uncontrollably.
"O Lord," she pleaded, staring at the twilit sky, "wherever Tobiah is, please keep him safe. I love him. He’s the only man I’ve ever loved. Please…please keep him safe…"
She had no way of knowing if God heard her prayer. She could only trust He would answer it if He did.
—
Tobiah had already stumbled several steps into the Philistine camp before he realized he was there. Most of the Philistines, surprised by David’s unexpected attack, had already abandoned the place; but, here and there, stiff pockets of resistance still fought with Hebrew soldiers.
It was difficult to see faces. Mostly Tobiah observed silhouettes, weaving back and forth through the tents, the rocks, and the trees. He should have been paying more attention to his own vulnerability. His head would have been severed from his neck if not for the crunch of a few pebbles beneath a Philistine’s sandals.
Tobiah ducked, whirled around, and hastily drew his sword from its scabbard. He faced a burly man, nearly twice his size, who stared at him with a cornered beast’s maddened look.
Too late, Tobiah remembered he carried neither helmet nor shield. He was only David’s courier and wasn’t supposed to need such things. The Philistine, on the other hand, wore full armor. Tobiah’s best chance was to get around the Philistine and escape.
The Philistine bore down on him. Tobiah solidly deflected a sword strike and barely managed to ward off a second. The third blow swished harmlessly over his head as he ducked, rolled, and came quickly back to his feet. Somehow he managed to slip his sword past the Philistine’s shield, and its iron blade left a crimson line down the warrior’s arm. The injured man grunted in surprise, but the stinging gash distracted him for only moment. Tobiah’s follow-up strike was deflected by the Philistine’s iron-bound shield.
Tobiah was forced backward – one foot scattering a campfire’s smoldering remains while the other searched for firmer footing. The more experienced Philistine warrior saw his advantage and immediately pressed it. He slashed repeatedly at Tobiah’s face forcing Tobiah to stagger backward into a tent. Trapped between guy ropes and fabric, Tobiah was a little fly in a big spider’s web.
The Philistine’s sword slashed a hair’s-breadth past Tobiah’s ear, leaving a long gash in the tent. Then the Philistine rammed his shield into Tobiah’s chest, solidly knocking him backward.
As Tobiah fell, several things happened at once. His sword flew from his fingers, his feet came out from beneath him, and, touched by a hot coal from the scattered campfire, the tent burst into flames. Tobiah’s shoulder struck the earth, and the Philistine aimed a slashing blow at his head. Tobiah managed to roll free of the tent’s flaming fabric and entangling ropes, but he wasn’t fast enough to escape the Philistine’s sword.
Pain seared the left side of his face. Warm blood flowed over one eye and into his mouth. The blade had caught him just above the left eyebrow, splitting his skin from brow to earlobe. Crying out in fear and pain, he rolled again and felt the sword’s tip pierce his shoulder blade.
&
nbsp; Death. It had finally come for him. A sudden ringing filled Tobiah’s ears and a wave of nausea filled his stomach. He heard shouts and pounding footsteps as his vision and hearing blurred.
As he waited for the killing blow, a vision of Mara popped into his head. He saw the warmth of her gentle brown eyes, remembered the contours of her worried face. He had sacrificed everything – everything truly important to him – for the momentary thrill of following David into battle.
"Mara…" he muttered her name thickly through cracked, dry lips. "Mara… I’m sorry…"
And that was the last thing he remembered before suffocating darkness claimed him.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
כז
Blessed is the man whom
thou chastenest, O Lord, and teachest
him out of thy law…
Psalm 94:12
Tobiah didn’t know where he was when he opened his eyes. He felt disoriented, his vision was blurred, and one side of his face throbbed. Sharp pain jolted his right shoulder when he attempted to lift his body. It took several moments to recall what had happened. When he remembered the blows from the Philistine blade, he sat half-way up, groping frantically for his lost sword’s hilt.
"Easy! Easy now!"
A concerned voice spoke from above him, and a hand pressed him firmly down.
"You’re safe now, but you need to rest. Let’s take things slowly and give your body a chance to heal."
Tobiah realized now that his head was bandaged, and he was no longer dying beside a flaming tent. His vision, though still clouded, was beginning to return. He was in a small room, resting on someone’s cloak on the floor by a wall.
"For a while, we thought we were going to lose you." He recognized Micah’s voice and felt a warm hand clamp itself on his uninjured shoulder. "If some of our men hadn’t seen you and that Philistine… Well, it’s just lucky they did."
He could see well enough now to peer up into David’s and Micah’s anxious faces. Both were kneeling beside him, and he could tell by their weary looks both must have been keeping watch over him for some time now.
A Captain in Israel Page 21