Covenant of War (18 page)

“There are rumors that the Sword of Dagon is in Bethlehem. They won’t miss any of the action of an invasion.”

“The Thirty will be able to handle them.”

“We have never led any of these northern troops. They might run.”

“Yahweh will go before us.”

“They all have iron in their armor. We only have a handful of skilled archers who can shoot between it.”

“Then they will need to aim well. Yahweh will guide them.”

Eleazar tried to suppress his frustration, but David knew him too
well. “How many more battles do we need to win for all of you to believe?” David asked wearily.

“I know Yahweh is with us, but we have five hundred troops, mostly green. The Thirty have not fought in ages and will be rusty, Shammah will be trying to get the Simeonites, the Naphtali commanders, the Benjamites, and the Gadites to stop squabbling, and while they are terrific for slitting throats, the Gadites aren’t diplomatic negotiators. Benaiah and Keth —”

“Uriah.”

“— Benaiah and Uriah are missing. There is no more water. Joab and Abishai might well march with the Philistines instead of rallying the army …” He let his voice trail off. “Your nephews …”

“I know that. Joab was punished,” David snapped.

“But not enough. He is a murdering —”

“I know that! Let it be!”

Eleazar said nothing further. He was confused as to where his despair had come from. What good did it do to bring these things up? Why did they matter? They would still fight, wouldn’t they? He held still and waited for his orders.

David’s eyes were glassy from stress and lack of water. He looked across at the ridges lining the valley again. The sun was shimmering red and low on the horizon. Purple streaks in the dry heavens above them were bringing twilight to the hill country. Once more Eleazar searched the west vainly for any sign of the rain breaching its barriers.

“You and I will hit them at sunrise,” David said finally. “Near Pas Dammim. Josheb and the Thirty will go to the Bethlehem road to hold off whatever is coming from that direction.”

Eleazar smiled in spite of himself.

“There is a barley field at Pas Dammim now. Seems no monument to your victory was constructed by the Philistines.”

David laughed hoarsely. “Perhaps we should remind them of the last time we met in that spot.”

“How will we get word to Benaiah and Keth?”

“I have a feeling Benaiah and Uriah are coming back this direction after seeing all of the Philistine movement. They’d know to go to the cave first whenever plans are disrupted. Shammah can keep Joab under watch back at Hebron while he works out a solution to all of the complaints among the tribal levies. The men just need to fight again. Lying around the city has made us soft and unfocused. They don’t understand the danger we are in. Get some sand under their feet and the petty bickering will stop. We need to hold the pass until our army can get here. All of this happened very quickly, so no plan we make will be perfect.”

Eleazar hesitated. “There has to be a traitor in the Thirty. No one in Philistia could have known about your plans to mobilize the new army after acclamation by the elders so soon, especially not fast enough to dispatch messages to the outposts and mobilize thousands of soldiers.”

At this news, David raised his hands and covered his face, rubbing his eyes as though he wanted to rub away images.

David’s voice dropped to nearly a whisper. “My friend, this is my doing. I have become lazy and greedy. I let Joab become too powerful, my men grow soft, my kingdom —”

“Clear your head. You made a covenant with the elders. It is Yahweh’s kingdom, not yours, now protect it as he told you to.”

Eleazar’s rebuke pierced the cool forest air but did little to awaken David from his dreamy state.
He needs water! Yahweh, bring us water. Why have you taken it from our land in our time of trial?

“Our people have lost their heart for war. Sometimes I feel as though we are alone, throne or not,” David said, rocking back and forth on his knees.

“That’s why they need you.”

“They need Yahweh.”

“They need you to lead them to Yahweh.”

David stopped swaying; his hands dropped to his waist and he appeared to be looking at the map sketched in the dirt in the fading light.

Eleazar wiped away more sweat.

David collapsed forward onto the map.

Startled, Eleazar took David’s shoulder and pulled to turn him onto his back. “Wake up!”

He cupped his hands around the king’s face and shook him.

David’s eyes fluttered open and he coughed. “Sorry,” he rasped from a parched throat. He rolled over with his hand on Eleazar’s shoulder. “Don’t tell the men,” he said.

“You need to drink water.”

“My troops are thirsty.”

Eleazar jerked him upright in frustration. “You need it more than the rest of us. We all die if you die. You are in no condition to fight anyone right now.”

David’s eyes rolled back into his head. Eleazar realized that David must have begun his water fast long before that afternoon. He shouted into the woods for the bodyguard, and he heard branches slapping as they ran toward them.

“Oh, for a drink of cool water from the Bethlehem well …,” David muttered in delirium.

Three troops from the foreign bodyguard charged into the clearing on the edge of the cliff, blades drawn.

“Take him back to the cave once it is dark and try to give him something to drink. Give him my final ration,” Eleazar said, tossing them the pouch. The Gittite leader nodded his head and leapt forward with the others to pick David up. Eleazar watched them help him to his feet, and they walked with David, coughing and rasping, suspended between them back toward the camp.

Eleazar stood and glanced in the direction of the altar, thinking. David had probably vowed to Yahweh that he would abstain from
water out of repentance. He prayed that Yahweh was seeing this, and that he would be with them tomorrow.

In several hours they would be moving again, slipping through the forest under the shield of darkness to take positions at Pas Dammim. He said it aloud, and the name had meaning.

Pas Dammim.

Boundary of blood.

The sentry stepped aside as Benaiah approached.

“I could have been anyone,” Benaiah said, irritated.

“Yes, sir,” the sentry replied with an awestruck expression on his face. He was young and new.

“Whether you recognize us or not, you always challenge people coming to the perimeter.”

“Yes, sir.”

Benaiah nodded and continued walking, Keth falling in step behind him, tilting his own head at the nervous sentry.

“He was probably raised on your song,” Keth said after they had passed out of earshot.

Benaiah grunted. “They need to learn new songs.”

“Be kind, friend. Young men need their heroes.”

The gaping void of the caves appeared in the darkness at the edge of the field. They returned the quiet greetings of the soldiers gathered around the entrance, eating hard bread and dried meat.

Eleazar approached them and embraced Benaiah.

“Was he with you on the frontier?” Eleazar asked when he had released him.

“Who?”

“The king. I assumed he was with his bodyguard.”

It took Benaiah a moment to realize that Eleazar was teasing. “You tell him that. I have tried and failed for years.”

“He might listen now. He’s not doing well,” Eleazar said more soberly.

“What is the matter?” asked Keth.

“Lack of water. We had to rush here so quickly that we could not bring a proper supply. Usually the spring is flowing, but now it’s dry, along with every other creek and well in this area. The troops think Yahweh has cursed the land.”

“Who is spreading such lies this time? Hekia?” Benaiah had had many dealings with the rumor-mongering soldier. Hekia had once been a part of the king’s bodyguard, but his tendency to stretch the truth and spread hearsay had led Benaiah to dismiss him. Now, due to his formerly privileged position in the king’s inner circle, he fancied himself the consummate royal court insider. He claimed to still have sources inside the guard, but Benaiah had investigated and found that claim to be false.

“Hekia is back with Joab,” Josheb added, walking up behind them. He embraced Keth, then pulled on Benaiah’s beard. “Your boy is going to have one of those before long.”

“That’s how I know he is mine. Growing a beard in his seventh year. Only men of Kabzeel can do that.”

“There are other men in Kabzeel. Didn’t your wife go visit family after we moved from Ziklag? Any enemies you left behind there? Old rivals? The boy could be one of theirs.”

Benaiah shoved him, but then Josheb’s smirk faded. “What is it?” Benaiah asked.

Josheb swallowed hard and struggled to speak. “Abner was killed by Joab just after you left.”

Benaiah felt as if he had been kicked. He sat on a nearby rock. Keth knelt next to him. They both stared at the ground. Benaiah was full of questions, and yet it was as though his throat had closed.

“He and Abishai lured Abner into the city gate and stabbed him,” Josheb added.

“Abishai too?”

“He regrets it,” said Josheb. “David made Joab ride in the chariot at the head of the funeral procession to shame him in front of the people.”

“So where is he now?”

“Back in Hebron. He’s been banned from leading an army, but David needs him to muster the remnant. Shammah stayed behind to help — and to watch him.”

Benaiah wanted to know more but fought to push it out of his head. The politics, the ramifications of Abner’s death — all of it had to wait. “So what are we doing?”

“We have five hundred green northern troops here. Philistines are packing into the Elah by the thousands. They sent two regiments in advance, according to our sometimes reliable Eleazar. We attack the scout battalion tomorrow. The king said we need to prevent them from reaching the Jebusite city at all costs.”

“Keth and I saw their army coming south,” Benaiah said. “The report is accurate. Had to fight through them. Green troops? Where are the Thirty? The other mercenaries?”

“The Thirty are here. Right after you two left, the army was granted a few days’ leave to celebrate the coronation. Many men went back to their homes. We think the Issachar scouts were captured — it was only a messenger who reached us with the report. Someone leaked the information that we were too scattered to muster. The
king rushed us here with everyone he had. Joab and Abishai are scraping the army together at Hebron as fast as they can.”

Benaiah sighed. “Does he ever get tired of wet-nursing Joab? Especially now?”

“Joab has become powerful,” Keth said.

“Not more powerful than David. If Joab hadn’t killed Abner, we would be invading Philistia instead of the other way around,” replied Benaiah.

“Do you really believe David can afford to anger half his tribe? Joab also owns half of the army of conscripts. We don’t have a standing force yet, so we can’t just replace him. David’s own brothers stayed behind in Hebron and wouldn’t come with him. He has enough to worry about right now,” Eleazar answered.

Benaiah nodded in resigned agreement.

“Don’t worry,” Josheb said, “David thinks he has a way to deal with Joab.”

“How?” asked Benaiah.

“He would not say, but he made it plain that it would happen soon.”

“We’re wasting time here,” Eleazar said impatiently.

“Looks like our Philistine alliance is finally officially over. I can’t imagine why they don’t trust us. Not many Philistines besides Achish ever really liked David, he of the two hundred foreskins,” Josheb said.

“We have worse news,” Benaiah said, and Josheb and Eleazar looked up, alerted by the dark tone of his voice.

“Worse than what we have already been discussing?” Josheb said. “What is it?”

“Keth and I killed three men who bore the emblem of the Sword of Dagon on their armor.”

Josheb sighed. The group said nothing for a time.

“That might be who is coming from Bethlehem,” said Eleazar.
“An Issachar scout finally earned his pay and arrived earlier today to tell us there is a company mobilizing out of the Philistine garrison in Bethlehem.”

“Is David holding up?”

Eleazar shook his head. “He looks bad. I think he stopped drinking water before this afternoon. I was in the forest with him earlier when he passed out. Seemed out of his head — said that he wanted some of the water from Bethlehem.”

“The men need something,” Keth said.

“Yes. Water,” Josheb replied.

“No, I mean they need
something
. Something that will inspire them. These troops may have heard about us through songs, but that won’t inspire them to hold the line in the coming days. Especially when we have to besiege that fortress in Jebus.”

“We will be there with them. They can watch us,” said Josheb.

“No, he’s right,” Eleazar said.

“Well, Keth and I will go with the Thirty tomorrow. Wish we had Shammah with us,” Benaiah said.

“I will come up with something to inspire the men,” Eleazar said. “We’ll meet up again tomorrow.”

They parted. Benaiah looked around at the men coming and going in the darkness, speaking nervously to each other and laughing at strange moments. They checked their weapons repeatedly. Archers swung up bows over and over, practicing the drilled motion. Slight tilt, hold the arrow in the notch, pull and release, look at the target and not the arrow. Others sat and held their knees to their chests, rocking back and forth — thinking of home, Benaiah knew.

Late that night, Josheb, Eleazar, Benaiah, and Keth gathered with David one final time before battle. The king had briefed the commanders of the five hundred earlier and they were back with their troops.

Now with his closest circle, David sketched in the dirt of the cave. As he did, Eleazar studied him. The king looked better, more alert, but his voice cracked through his dry throat.

“Here is the Rephaim Valley. That’s the knob that juts into it where it meets the Bethlehem road. That is Jebus.” He pointed at the junction where a road intersected with the Rephaim. “Josheb, I want you, Benaiah, and Keth to take the Thirty with you to that point and stop any attempt by the Philistines to send troops to reinforce from Bethlehem. That might be the Sword of Dagon. If Benaiah and Uriah spotted a few of them across the valley, they might not all be moving together. Let’s hope not. Eleazar and I will attack the regiments that have reached the end of the Rephaim. We will crush them at their front and then drive them back down the valley.”

He pointed at the spot where the valley narrowed before becoming the Elah. “That is where Eleazar and I will destroy their lead element and seal off the pass from any reinforcements coming from their encampment. The commanders of the green troops will need to attack down the sides of the valley precisely when I signal them. This has to be perfectly timed and perfectly executed. Yahweh has given them into our hands, and I do not want to squander this opportunity.”

The group stared at the map, each of them memorizing the steps.

“Eleazar, where will you and I be?” David asked.

“At the place where the Elah and Rephaim meet, where it is narrowest. We are to destroy the advance battalion and cut off the Philistine army massed on the plains from meeting up with the Sword of Dagon or reaching Jebus.”

“Correct. Benaiah, where will you be?”

“Should be with you commanding your bodyguard and protecting you.”

“Just answer.”

Benaiah’s eyes darted across the map once more before he replied. “We will attack the Sword or any other approaching Philistines out of that point on the Bethlehem road where the Rephaim bends just before it reaches Jebus. We need to destroy them so that they can’t meet up with the army coming from the plains. If we don’t see any, or after we defeat them, then we will move down the valley to meet up with you.”

“Splitting our army into two parts,” David said, “is an act of faith on its own, so my best warriors have to be divided between the two parts. Eleazar and I will be with those blocking off the valley at the rear because they are the greenest. They will need to see me. The archers will attack first, we will charge and hit their line, and the two unit commanders will strike farther up the valley to cut off their head.” David looked up again.

Eleazar inhaled and held his breath a moment to calm his nerves. It was an exceedingly risky maneuver. Normally an ambush was a concentrated attack on a single line, not divided into parts as spread out as this one was.

David sighed, as if hearing his thoughts. “It’s the best we can do. We could not get here in time to hit them before they got to the valleys, and I have to send troops to the Bethlehem road. We cannot let them take Jebus.”

“As you said, lord, Yahweh has promised victory. Praise to our God,” said Josheb.

“Arrows to our enemies,” they all echoed.

David nodded, satisfied. In the torchlight, Eleazar saw vigor in his depleted face and thought that there was nothing like a desperate fight to revive a tired mind and body.

Plans finished, they sat together in the quiet for a while, listening to the men in the woods. Eleazar wished, briefly, that he was one of the regular troops again, uncaring about strategy and tactics, only knowing that they would have the man next to them when it came time. The world of the foot soldier did not involve command and politics. Just wine, women, and the man next to you.

Then he shook his head. His wife always made fun of his wandering mind. He would stare vacantly into the distance, and she would ask him what he was thinking about. He never had an answer, only that he was thinking.

“Well, come on, then. They’re already moving,” Josheb finally said.

But no one moved. Every man hated this moment. It might be the last time they ever sat together in this life. Perhaps they would meet up in Sheol. No one knew.

Finally, they got to their feet and embraced each other. Eleazar kissed Benaiah on the cheek, then clapped Keth on the side of the face.

“Watch out for him, Hittite.”

“I always do.”

Gareb gently kicked the dozing soldier squarely in the back of the head.

“Come on, wake up. It’s the last day of our lives, might as well end it like men.”

The soldier scrambled away. Gareb had spent the better part of the night wandering among the troops, too anxious to sleep, walking from soldier to soldier, trying to encourage the green ones. He would not be marching with them but instead going with the Thirty to the Bethlehem road. He knew that many of these troops would not survive the day. It was never easy to say good-bye to them, no matter how many times he had done it in his life.

The rest of the troops following David and Eleazar disappeared into the forest, making their way to the valley. Many mothers’ sons. Many fathers, he thought.

Spotting Benaiah and the others at the edge of the forest, he trotted over, preparing to race northeast to battle a foe that would probably destroy them.

Across the forest at the entrance of the valley, Ittai could not sleep. He rose from his mat to inspect his chariots again. He passed through the bedrolls of men, stepping around cookware and weapons scattered sloppily. He almost woke everyone up to yell at them about it but decided that they needed their sleep. There was no way of knowing what surprises the Hebrew god had for them in the woods.

He made his way to the chariots, lined up at the edge of camp for fast hitching, and examined them in the torchlight. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for. All seemed in order.

He handed the torch to a sentry. “Go rest. I will take the next two hours,” he said. The soldier left.

Ittai crawled up on a boulder and settled in to watch. The Elah gap opened in the distance. It was a dark night. Clouds had moved in from the west over the Great Sea. He sat still watching the valley.

Something emerged. Movement. Ittai blinked to clear his eyes a few times.

Dagon was crawling out of his lair.

Ittai watched the sea god slide over stones and through the trees, slithering his way toward their army. The horses in the corral whinnied and stamped their hoofs.

Darkness covered the figure; Ittai couldn’t see him clearly. A breeze picked up, and Ittai was back in the ocean in his youth, his test of manhood, swimming as hard as he could, fighting the water as it pulled him down into the black. Ittai pulled at the waves with every stroke, but it was no use, he couldn’t fight it any longer. And the monster circled closer from beneath the waves, its eye always watching him, and Ittai cried out to his god and clutched the amulet, but his god would not come to him, would not let him stand on his scaly hide.

Then Ittai was back on the hillside, staring at the darkness of the valley entrance. He felt something pass over him — a shadow, a figure, he couldn’t tell.

He turned and looked at the sky over the coast. A bank of clouds. Watch fires on the perimeter. All seemed well.

He shook his head, blamed it on his weariness. No, he was certain he had not seen Dagon fleeing the Israelite hill country.