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I am in the process of writing this book of historical fiction based on 1st Samuel.  This is a teaser chapter.

Click here to see some questions answered about this book.  Click here to give me helpful feedback as I write.

 

Selah and the Sword

 

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Benaiah of the Mighty Men

     

      “This sword is a thing of beauty.  I think it’s more beautiful than any woman I’ve ever seen,” Ben said.

      “No sword is more beautiful than a woman,” Jonathan the Prince of Israel replied.

      “Lord, none of us are used to seeing iron swords, much less folded iron like this.”  Ben looked down at the grey blue shaft lying across the towel in his hand.  His large nose looked even larger in the bevel—as when trimming his hair looking in the bottom of a Phoenician glass bowl.

      Jonathan sat crosslegged on his mat next to the fire in the center of his tent.  His mother and sister had woven the wool for this tent when he was just a boy.  They and others like them were far more valuable than this sword.  He was getting a little irritated with his armor-bearer and wanted to make a point with him now.  “A pig-tending Philistine maid is more beautiful than any sword.”

      “His guards said the King killed 5 Philistines soldiers in that town with a club and a dagger, and then camped there for a week while their smith made him two swords of unequal balance and beauty.  One for his son and one for himself: the Sword of the Lord.”  Does he really forget that this sword strikes fear into his army and gains respect among the Philistines—those uncircumcised pigs who have ensured we do not have the ironskill?  This is the renowned Sword of the King to Come, the heir of our people, the hope of our future.  How can he despise it?

      The Israelites were continually oppressed by the Philistines.  They had been at war for only a few months.  Before the war, they were knocked about like flies on the hind end of a cow.  For decades, the Hebrew people were not so much threats to the Philistine people as they were a nuisance.  For this reason, they were periodically enslaved or raided with impunity.

      The Judges had risen up to beat the Philistines off their Israelite backs.  However, as the people slipped back into their old ways and copied the lives of others in their Canaanite lands, they slipped into a willing bondage to the Philistines, who were more cunning in battle, more adept in the arts of war, and more equipped in weaponry than the Israelites could hope to be.

      Israel did not have hope that they would throw off the oppressive yoke of their aggressive neighbors.  This the Israelites knew in their hearts.  This was their hour of second Exodus.  A chance to be free in their own land—the land promised before their first Exodus.

      “Do you think I don’t know the legend, Ben?  My father has slain his thousands.”  At this Jonathan looked up from his scroll and moved a shock of his straight black hair from his eyes—the hair that marked him, as much as his sword, as the son of Saul the King.  “But mark my words, my armor-bearer.  A barren old woman with more warts than hairs is more beautiful than that sword.”

      Ben put the sword into its leather scabbard.  It made a noise that made him smile.  Now that’s a sword.  He rolled back on his mat in the Prince’s tent and let loose a longing distant breath.

      Jonathan interrupted his armor-bearer’s evening dream by grabbing his favorite shortbow and quiver off his mat: “You must come to know the meaning of my words, Ben.  A sword is a tool.  No different than a plow or a saw.  One tool cuts trees, another turns soil.  This one just happens to cut limbs and turn Philistines into corpses.”  He grabbed the sword from Ben’s side by its belt straps.

      “Now that’s my kind of talk, Lord,” Ben said to the Prince.  All the talk of warty women and pig-maids was no help to my battle dreams.

      The Philistines knew the Hebrews saw this as their hour of rebellion.  A slave receives the harshest beating after attempting to escape.  So the Philistines were beating the Israelites with every club and whip at their disposal.  Blood-lusty soldiers had gone forth toward Ophrah, Beth Horon and the borderlands toward the desert with one purpose: to remind their humble Hebrew neighbors that they were still flies on their rumps, easily swatted.

      King Saul had some victories against the Philistines however.  When the Hebrews caught wind of these battles, Saul seemed even taller than they remembered, at least head and shoulders taller than their smallish race.  Saul had surprised a band of raiders, leaving behind many dead Hebrews in Zorah, a Danite tribal village.  As the Philistines came through a narrow pass in the valley of Sorek, Saul and a small army of his men came upon them with a holy vengeance they didn’t know was in them.  He strapped the ugly head of the dead Philistine commander to his horse and sent it home as a message to the Philistines that a new day had dawned in Canaan.

      Quickly the Prince told him, “Get up, Ben.  Haven’t you learned that when we sleep the enemy sleeps?”

      “Scouting again?” Ben said out of the corner of his mouth with a sigh.

      “We’ve scouted more than I care to recall.”  The Prince followed the smoke up as it breathed out through the darkened wool weavings at the peak of the tent.  He squinted at the smoke and said, “We hide in caves and scatter into villages like rats before buzzards.  Father said he wanted to know the exact number of our enemy encampment.  We’ve scouted so long from the brambles I know how many freckles are on the hind end of their commanders.”

      “What are you saying?  A raid on their scouts instead?”

      “We shall see what the Lord will do, Ben.  But remember my teaching tonight.  No sword is more beautiful than a woman.  It is only a tool.”

      Ben bowed, “When you are king your wisdom will serve you as well as your military mind, Lord.”

      “When I am king I’d be wise to concern myself with beautiful women more than swords.  When this war began we had many beaten bronze swords and beautiful bronze women.  But with Goliath and his brothers raiding our towns we have less of both than ever—and no iron swords but two.  Tonight God may grant that we pay them back for their defiance of his Law.  Perhaps I should slay one of them for every bastard Philistine that is now growing in the raped wombs of our women.  Grab the rest of my armor and I’ll tell you on the way.  We’ll sneak out the back flap and through the goatherds to the East.  Stay low and keep that nose to the ground.  We don’t want Father’s guards seeing the mountain on your face glimmer in the moonlight.”

 

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      So Prince Jonathan and his armor-bearer Ben shuffled through the moonlight goatherds of the village.  They crossed two dry streams, three dewy hills and came to the cliff of Bozez.  Stopping in a grove of olive trees, the armor-bearer pulled out a skin of water for them both.

      Jonathan breathed heavy as he said, “Three scouts from the tribe of Issachar reported to me this morning that the bulk of the Philistine encampment is now next to the cliff of Seneh across from this gorge.  Two armies have joined the three that were already there.”

      “Shiloh is not too far from here,” Ben said as he thought through the horror of Shiloh falling to this army.  “They may intend to destroy the Tabernacle.”  Would God let that happen?  The spirit of the people would be squelched.

      “Whatever the case, I’m guessing they are amassing their troops for some reason beyond that of a party.  I believe that God may be delivering the Philistines into our hands this day.”

      A smile broadened across Ben’s face.  He will not let it happen.  The Prince has a plan in mind.

      Ben always knew when Jonathan had a plan.  Instead of his wistful and brooding self, the King’s son became focused like an eagle on prey when he had a plan.  His mind would circle about the target and all other distractions would be merely wind on wings.  He had seen Jonathan kill men like hopeless rodents running toward their holes.  He had not killed many men himself.  By carrying around Jonathan’s heavy armor and weaponry he had grown into a mountain of a man to match his mountain of a nose.  He could never figure out what Jonathan was thinking—only that he was thinking in the first place.  Benaiah was the cart and Jonathan the horse.  The body to his head.  Wherever the horse-head thought to go the cart-body followed.

      “Stow all our gear here by this rock,” Jonathan said.  “All but the armor and weapons.  We will show ourselves to the Philistine lookouts over on the Senah side.  These uncircumcised brutes will no doubt threaten our lives with all the poetry their pig-minds can muster, but God will give us a sign.  If they tell us to stay put and that rangers will come to kill us, then we will know the time is not right and we will go and report to the King.  But if they say that we should come up to them so they can kill us, then we will know that the Almighty One, whose name we cannot utter, has given us this day, and we will go to them and slay them until either we are dead or they are.”

      Benaiah sat on the rock with stunned silence.  He is insane to take on the entire army of our enemy in the middle of the night.

      “Cheer up, Son of Jehoiada.  This we know: the LORD is on our side.  Shema O Israel, the LORD your God…” Jonathan paused the daily prayer of their people as he rocked back and forth on the rock.

      This man, my Prince, is either insane or the greatest Hebrew that has drawn air since Moses… Ben thought.  He joined Jonathan at that point of sacred creed, “…the LORD is one…”

      Two Israelites chanted and rocked under the olive trees that night; two brave Hebrews devoted themselves to their Lord and to each other.  They were dreaming of their noble deaths and the glory it would give their God and their people.

 

 

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© 2006 by David Drury

 

I am in the process of writing this book of historical fiction based on 1st Samuel.  This is a teaser chapter.

Click here to see some questions answered about this book.  Click here to give me helpful feedback as I write.

 

 

 

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