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.
Goliath
“We go to
the tribes of Dan now” the man-giant said to his armor-bearing lieutenant
Herobaal. “These flies must feel the
revenge their Kingling has brought upon them.”
And my revenge is like the coming
of all hell upon them.
“Our men
traveling through the Danite
Goliath
was seated on a tree-stump they had pitched his tent around. It made him look as if he grew out of the
ground himself, wide as a sycamore tree and rooted deep in the earth. The tent was so large that four of King
Saul’s tents could have fit inside it.
Goliath chewed on the charred hindquarters of a beast his men had felled
for him that day. Its remaining bones
and carcass lay in the center of a guard’s shield in the middle of the
table. He now spoke with his mouth full:
“If the Hebrew Kingling had not killed my little brother I would pay him no
attention. You say they sing of the
Kingling slaying his thousands, but noble Yoliath had no more than 50 men with
him when he entered the
“He was
noble indeed.” Herobaal wondered how the
new King Saul had concocted the surprise attack. Perhaps they were underestimating this
upstart. “Maybe the Hebrew wenches know
that Yoliath was worth a thousand men unto himself.” Herobaal now sat down next to the table,
joining the three giants at their table in a new move, even for him, of assumed
familiarity.
But
Goliath was no puppet to be pulled by strings.
The giant commander was thinking over his food as well—thinking about
his upstart lieutenant filling the tent with words while he his two other
brothers, who were legends in their own right, said little or nothing. This little pretend soldier was trying to
wedge his way into the commander’s circle.
He talks too much and acts too
little. Goliath thought of him. I must reign in my little armor-bearer
before he begins to think of himself as a general. “Gather my weapons and armor, little
Herobaal, if you can still carry the shield.
After my meal we will leave immediately for Timnah and show them the
result of their uprising.”
“I will
alert the men. I have your back.” Herobaal backed out of the tent speaking the
armor-bearer servant words, knowing the rage of giant was enflamed enough and
not wanting to get himself burnt accidentally.
He left the giant commander with his brothers to finish eating and
preparing for the next raid.
~
“Our
brother’s blood was not shed in vain, Goliath.
We will avenge him.” Soliath said
as he looked over a crude papyrus map of the Benjamite region where he hoped to
raid next. The map looked like a child’s
drawing in the knotty hands of Soliath, third-born, the middle child of the
five giant-brothers. They were
descendants of the Nephilim—the heroes of old.
Standing over 8 feet tall, they were miracles of the womb. Their mother and father—both passed now—had
been giants just as their parents and grandparents were before them. Their father had given them all names that
rhymed. At first he thought it would be
easier to remember them, but of course the opposite was true. He would constantly forget which “-oliath” he
was talking to when raising the 5 abnormally large boys in the Canaanite
The
blacksmith may have forgotten his sons names, but no one else forgot them. The descendants of the Nephilim tolerated
disrespect only from their own kind.
They bred only from within their select race. Everyone else saw them as the bullies of
The
Hebrews had reported of these giants when spying on
Moliath
joined in the revenge-talk: “I will take 1,000 men to the hill country of
Ephriam and suppress the monkeys chattering there.”
That is a large number for my brother to
commandeer, Goliath thought while breaking the bare bone and sucking out
the marrow. That would be a third of our force. I’ll let him have 500 and no more.
Not to be
outdone, Soliath matched his brother’s number: “And I’ll take another thousand
into the Benjamite homelands of the Kingling.
I’ll rape his sisters after I burn his oxen.” He pointed at his target on the map while
holding it up to his brothers.
Goliath
smiled for the first time since he had word of his beloved brother’s
death. “Just be sure not to get it mixed
up, Soliath. With your experience in war
and women you may end up burning his sisters and raping his oxen.”
Moliath
laughed so hard he choked on his wine and it spurted out his nose. They all laughed mightily around the table as
only giants could. The bellowing noise
was unnatural and fearsome. The soldiers
standing guard outside the tent trembled at the sound.
~
Five-hundred
men and their commander Soliath went south-east that day. Another 500 traveled north with Moliath. The remaining force of 3 times that many set
off to the southwest toward Timnah. They
flooded the valley like a herd of migrating wildebeests in
As they
approached Timnah Goliath told his army to camp by the Sorek river which flows
into the
The
armor-bearer lieutenant slung the massive shield as tall as his own length over
his head and shoulders with great effort.
He looked like a human turtle with it strapped to his back. The sword he carried with both hands as you
would carry a pile of sticks to a fire, in front of him like an offering for an
altar. There was no other way to carry
it for his back was taken up by the shield and if he wore the scabbard at his
belt it would drag two feet of its length on the ground and then he could not
walk. Herobaal looked ridiculous
carrying Goliath’s armor, but he did not know it. In his mind he was carrying the most
legendary weapons in all of
Goliath
liked to see his little turtle-man follow him about. Goliath was at least half-a-foot taller than
his brothers, who were all over 8 feet.
And to view him walking next to Herobaal carrying his out-sized armor
made Goliath look even more preposterously immense. From far off enemies would see the little man
and know they were more like the turtle than the giant. It was no wonder the Israelite spies in the
days of Lawgiver had called themselves grasshoppers compared to men like these.
As Goliath
strode closer to Timnah he noticed how the town was laid out. Several hovels were scattered around the path
he walked up from the river valley. Rotten shepherds, he thought, they create nothing but more and more sheep
to eat more and more grass and more and more numbers. Their only ingenuity is their ability to
procreated. Such a fitting profession for
these Hebrews who can only do the same. Beyond
making war Goliath only respected the skilled trade professions, like his
father had parlayed into glory.
Shepherding was a semi-nomadic peasant life, he had always thought.
He
approached the main road of the town with a few shepherd hovels still around
him. They
have no doubt rallied into the main homes as they heard of our approach. He cupped his massive hand to his cheek and
bellowed so loudly it sounded like he was in a cave: “I am Goliath of Gath and
I have come to repay you for your usurping with a wrath you have never
witnessed. You will be punished for the
acts of Saul your upstart Kingling. You
will face the final reckoning that all flies on the rump of
Twelve men
ran suddenly out from a dwelling that Goliath had already passed on his way
toward the town. They were all
sheepherders and goat-farmers from what Goliath could tell. So, the
lambs are staging a little trap, they think. Goliath swung around before Herobaal heard
the men come out, with the shield banging on the back of his head as it was.
The Hebrew
peasants had only farm implements and slings to fight with. But they had taken their sickles and pitch
forks into larger Philistine towns to the south to have them sharpened. They could be wielded well as weapons when
the time called for it, however. A
farmer is more a sure thing with a sickle than a sword. And a shepherd favors a sling and staff over
a spear and shield any day. They were
not a dangerous bunch, but they prayed their bravery and their faith would make
up for it.
Herobaal
taunted them with a shrill voice cracking at its start, “Goliath eats boys like
you for breakfast, Hebrews. You might as
well give up now.”
“Don’t
hurt their feelings, little turtle. Hand
me my shield,” Goliath ordered. Their bodies will hurt enough, he
thought.
As
Herobaal ducked down to drop the sword and struggled to unbuckle the
shield-carrying strap on his chest an arrow flew past where his head had just
been. Goliath took three long strides
toward Herobaal, grabbed him by both shoulders and held him up in the air like a
boy as four more arrows let fly from another group of five Hebrews who had
snuck up on their backs. All four arrows
stuck into the shield’s wooden plank on Herobaal’s back. He felt the point of one arrow prick him as
it had pierced a weaker spot. He
squealed like a pig, assuming himself nearly dead from a direct hit. Goliath set down the turtle-man and grabbed
the chest strap, ripping it apart with one hand like a straw rope. Herobaal fell to the ground once freed from
the shield and ran wimpering for cover, trying to touch the center of his back
where the supposed wound would be. The
twelve soldiers who had been planning to out-flank Goliath were standing there,
none of them able to make the first move.
“Boys, you are about to meet Baal in the afterlife,” Goliath said. “And he will not be pleased that you worship
the nameless god.”
Then a
group of ten more Hebrews ran out from village yelling, “For the Lord and for
Saul!” This emboldened the flanking
Hebrews who waited until the others were of the same distance to Goliath and
they all broke into a run, each one hoping that the others would all arrive at
the reach of the giant at the same moment and that at least one of them would
land a mortal blow. Many groups of
courageous soldiers had draw up just such a plan to fell the giant. None had yet succeeded.
Goliath
grinned at their foolish courage—almost proud of the lambs. He ran full speed toward the group of twelve
with only his shield in hand. His sword
still lay in the dirt where Herobaal had dropped it.
Immediately
four of the twelve stopped as their plan for simultaneous arrival was
thwarted. But eight more continued on,
thinking the others were right behind them.
Goliath lifted his shield by both hands up high in the air and to the
left of his head. The shadow the shield
created against the sun completely enveloped the two on the far left of the
line. It was as if the main sail from a
ship had just been hoisted above them.
They were distracted by the odd shadow right before it crashed against
both of their heads flattening their skulls into one another with an ugly
thump. The four in the middle started
swinging violently where they thought Goliath would be after ending the lives
of the other two. One
farmer-turned-soldier even accidentally stabbed into a thigh he thought was the
giant’s but was actually the shepherd next to him. Goliath moved far quicker than they expected
a man nearly twice their height to move.
Before they knew it he had dispatched of another two with his
fists. One thought he had Goliath in his
sights with his sickle, but the shield deflected the blow at the last minute,
and the giant grabbed his wrist and tore the arm right from its socket—with the
fist still gripping the sickle.
Goliath
then ran up the hill toward his sword.
Since the giant was away from the other Hebrews the archers let loose
another five arrows. Two whizzed by too
high, another one fell too short and Goliath held up the shield to snatch the
other two as if he was catching a ball of rags thrown by a boy. With only their bows to defend themselves
with, the archers ran away frantically up the hill toward the town passing
their ten tribal brothers who stalked down slowly now the opposite way. They had just seen eight of their brothers
meet a cruel end at the hands of a weaponless Goliath moments ago and were in
no hurry to meet the same end.
“You
worthless turtle” Goliath sneered toward the bush he knew Herobaal was hiding
in. I really must replace that reptile. He picked up his sword, pulled it from the
scabbard which he threw at Herobaal’s bush.
Okay, it’s time to make short work
of these fellows. I’ve had enough of
toying with their courage.
This was
the first look the Hebrews had of the sword in his hand. To a normal man it had the length of a
spear. To Goliath’s brothers it would
have been a two-handed sword. But
Goliath held it casually with just one fist.
He charged up the hill with the sword in his bloodied right hand and the
shield in the other. This fight with
ill-equipped goat-herders had become boring to the giant. He killed the rest in an almost lazy fashion,
moving at half his usual speed.
~
Goliath
kicked in the crooked gate of the stick fence that established a general
perimeter to central
Goliath
offered what was to become his trademark arrangement in the coming months of scourging
the Hebrews with his vengeance. “I
challenge this town now to provide one man who might fight me. I will only fight with my sword and no
shield. If he can cut me once or knock
me to the ground I will leave you and this town alone, and you can take my
armor-bearer at the bottom of the hill as your prize and slave. But if I beat your man then you all will
become subjects of
The people
began to whisper to one another in confusion.
This will at least make it
interesting, he thought. An offer they cannot refuse.
~
© 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.
Publishing information:
To inquire about publishing this or other copyrighted pieces
simply contact David Drury at [email protected]
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