Covenant of War (24 page)

Benaiah, Gareb, and Keth crept through the forest, following old game trails and secret evasion routes that their ancestors had forged centuries before. Gareb knew this land better than Benaiah, who was from the south, so he led. Generations of Israelite men knew these hills and woods, the central hill country bordering the Forest of Hereth, their knowledge passed down from father to son.

Only Eleazar had known of their departure, and since it had been his own idea, he had vowed not to mention it to the king.

After hours of jogging, they reached the ridge overlooking the town of Bethlehem, and as they arrived they noticed the deep blue wall of a storm in the east. They had heard about storms popping up on the borderlands, only to rain themselves out before reaching Israelite country. Still, the sight of it filled them with hope.

Benaiah held up his arm. Exhausted, the men all leaned against trees to rest. Leagues of running after a full day of fighting had put them at their limit.

“We can hold here until we figure out our plan. There is a cave just over there,” Gareb said.

Benaiah knelt, then rolled to his side. He inspected the wrapping on his chest that covered the arrow wound, his tunic damp from the oil soaking the entry point. The cut had reopened an old scar.

“Always seem to start these missions hurt,” Benaiah mumbled. Keth, lying next to him, chuckled.

“You should have been injured by a lion; it makes a better story,” Gareb said, probing at the dagger wound in his own mouth.

“He got a Philistine arrow before we arrived at the cave, and it has not slowed him. He should not be complaining as much as he is,” said Keth.

“Avoid arrows, Benaiah, unless you are shooting them.”

“We need to make a plan,” Benaiah said. He cleared away some of the leafy soil and sketched a map. For the next few minutes, they discussed the best strategy.

They reached an agreement, then crept into the cave Gareb had mentioned. It faced the town. As they waited for darkness to fall, Benaiah asked Gareb how he knew about it.

“We used it when we were hunting David years ago,” he answered simply.

They huddled together in the entrance as the last rays of the sun behind them dimmed. They would wait inside the cave until nightfall.

Gareb picked up his sword and scraped the blade across a stone. “I wonder why David did not drink that water today,” Gareb said.

“You know why,” said Benaiah.

Gareb nodded. He drew a breath. “I was Jonathan’s armor bearer.”

They stared at him.

“We know,” Benaiah said after a few seconds. “David told us not
long after you arrived in our camp after Gilboa. He recognized you. He told us not to bother you about it, and that you would tell us in time.”

“I thought he had abandoned us years ago,” Gareb continued. “I was there, on Gilboa, when Jonathan fell. He sent me to David. Hardest moment of my life. I hated David. Thought he should have died on Gilboa and not Jonathan.”

Gareb looked away from them and outside the cave. The breeze picked up, suddenly chilly. Benaiah pulled his cloak over his knees.

“Yahweh uses broken men. I don’t know why he uses David, why he uses any of us.” Benaiah said quietly.

They listened as the wind increased.

Ittai did his best to lift his face off the ground. His vision cleared, and he could smell the wood smoke from campfires nearby. A deep cut on his lip throbbed. Wincing, he let his face rest on the sharp pebbles once more.

It was still light out, but evening was closing in. He lay on his chest with his hands tied behind his back. Every area of his body was wracked with pounding, driving pain. His smashed jaw throbbed, his broken nose was swollen and tender. The Hebrews had beaten him mercilessly, and he was surprised to still be alive. Not only that, but he realized that his wounds had been treated with oil and bandages.

He tried to lift his head again, but a voice spoke out of his line of sight.

“You ought to rest.”

Ittai turned his stiff neck until he could see the form of a man sitting next to him, leaning against a boulder. He recognized him as the Hebrew demon warrior.

Ittai hesitated, unsure how to respond. Had this man spared his life again?

“I expected to be dead,” he mumbled at last. The movement of his lips forced the cut on his lip to reopen, and he tasted blood as it trickled into his mouth.

“You fought well,” the Hebrew replied in the Philistine tongue. His breath was labored.

Ittai watched him. The Hebrew looked equally bad. His face was covered in cuts, and his clothing hung in tatters. His exposed thigh displayed a wicked-looking gash that had been closed up with bronze clamps to staunch the bleeding. They protruded through the bandage wrapped around the leg, dark stains seeping through the wool.

More interesting, though, was the bandage wrapped around his right hand. It bulged to a girth much larger than a fist, and out of the top of it jutted a broken sword blade. The Hebrew was resting his hand in a bowl of heated oil. Ittai could see slight wisps of steam rising from the bowl.

Noticing his gaze, the Hebrew said, “Physician says it will loosen the hand by heating it.”

“I thought your people hated physicians.”

“Hmm.”

Ittai moved his head to see where he was. He lay at the edge of a large clearing at the top of a hill, with several ravines and rocky draws breaking away from the summit. On one end of the clearing was a large stone pile that looked as though it guarded a cave entrance leading into the depths of the mountain. The forest surrounded the clearing and stretched beyond the cave until it ended abruptly at the foot of a bluff, the highest point on the mountain. As a commander, he could not help but admire the tactical genius of such a spot and was amazed that the place had not been discovered by his own people.

“You would need water access if you were here a long time,” he thought aloud.

“Normally not a problem, but the springs have dried up. Yahweh has not provided rain.”

“I saw storm clouds over the eastern sky today.”

“It goes no farther than Bethlehem. The rest of the kingdom is dry until the plains. Yahweh has withheld the rain,” the Hebrew repeated.

“Your god is powerful.”

“He is the only God.”

Ittai said nothing. Before this day, he would have answered quickly and defended his patron until death. “Tell me about him.”

The Hebrew shook his head. “Perhaps later.”

“Why did you spare me?”

“Yahweh wanted you to live. I felt it in the covering.”

“The covering?”

“Perhaps later,” the Hebrew said again. He coughed, hard. Then he leaned his head back against the stone and closed his eyes.

Ittai asked the question that had been nagging at him all day. “Why is Keth of the Hittites in your ranks?”

If the Hebrew was surprised at this knowledge, he did not let on. “He came several years ago when many others did. You would have to ask Benaiah.”

“So the rumors of Benaiah are true?”

“They are. Many of your countrymen probably fell by his club today.”

Ittai nodded. “It must have been him I saw earlier. He and Keth.”

“He has a Hebrew name now as well. Uriah.”

“What does it mean?”

“Yahweh is fire.”

Ittai had to agree. On this day, in these fields, their god had shown that he was fire. If a man like Keth had thrown in his lot with these Hebrews and their god, perhaps …

Ittai shook his head, too tired to think. “Give me the honor of knowing your name, warrior,” he said.

“Eleazar … the son of Dodai.” He took a labored breath. “Tribe of … Benjamin. Yours?”

“Ittai. Of Gath. I suppose you are part of David’s Thirty.”

“Yes.”

Ittai watched him for a bit, as though looking for the sign of the Hebrew god’s favor carved somewhere on his body, for no man could battle the way this man did without his god’s favor. He blinked and closed his eyes himself. He was too tired and too hurt to puzzle on it further.

But he could not sleep. The mighty warrior who fought next to Eleazar in the field and then vanished would terrorize his dreams.

In the cave overlooking Bethlehem, the three of them dozed in and out of restless sleep.

“Benaiah?” Keth whispered, his voice muffled by his cloak.

“What is it?”

“Do you think this will matter?”

Benaiah did not answer at first. Then, after a while: “It has to.” He shifted in his position. “I still cannot believe Abner is dead. I will kill Joab myself.”

“We need every man right now, including Joab,” Gareb said.

Benaiah turned and stared out into the blinding storm, then laid his head back down.

“This is the best time to hit them. Philistine sentries are lazy.”

“These might not be regular Philistine sentries. It’s possible that not all of the Sword troops marched out against us,” Keth said.

“I’m getting weary of dealing with them. Perhaps we should just pay them to fight for us,” Gareb said.

Keth smiled. His sickle sword was clutched against his chest and
his bow was on his lap. A layer of mist covered the iron blade, and he wiped it clear every few seconds to keep his mind off the impossible task they were about to attempt.

Benaiah leaned forward once more and stared at the sheets of gray rainfall. He was the only one who could see down the slope from the cave.

“Now!”

In one motion, all three of them shifted forward and rolled out of the cave. Benaiah was on his feet first and immediately sprinted down the mountainside, leaping between the rocks, Gareb close behind him and to the right. Keth felt his sandals sink into the mud between the stones, but he forced himself forward. Blinded by the drenching rain, he angled himself to the left toward a cropping of trees he had seen earlier.

The sentries were lazy, as Benaiah had suspected, and were not watching the tree line as they should have been, lulled by the sound of the rain into staring at the ground, snugly wrapped in their cloaks. Benaiah and Gareb split apart just before they reached the line, and Keth watched as Benaiah’s blade slit the first man’s neck. The soldier slumped forward. Gareb cut the throat of the second sentry.

Keth threw his short sword into the mud at the foot of a boulder and then climbed the stone. His bow was in his hand, an arrow notched, and he sent the shaft whistling through the storm toward the third sentry, who had just seen the attack and was rising to sound the alarm. The arrow thudded into his thigh.

Keth cursed the rain for distorting the flight path, then drew again and sent another one. The sentry was screaming a warning toward the distant city wall, but before he could finish his sentence, the arrow struck him in the side of his face. Gagging, the soldier went to his knees, the arrow slicing through one cheek and out the other.

Frustrated, Keth jumped down from the boulder and snatched his sword out of the mud. Benaiah and Gareb were moving toward the gate and about to disappear from sight, so he ran after them as fast as he safely could. A peal of thunder, and the rain suddenly increased again. Lightning flashed for the first time.

A glance told him the sentry was too wounded to rejoin the fight. Keth wasted no time finishing him off. He reached the path at last and pressed toward the city wall. The plan was holding for now. The city was ahead of them, but Benaiah and Gareb had darted into the forest off the road.

The city was not their objective.

A dense stand of trees just outside the city walls made the road narrow, and Benaiah and Gareb took positions there, Gareb facing the town and Benaiah facing the direction they had just come. Keth raced past Benaiah, slipping on the muddy road but maintaining his footing.

Gareb nodded as Keth ran past his position. “We’ll guard the road! Speed!”

On his right as he ran into the trees, even through the noise of the storm, Keth could hear the growing clamor of troops emerging from the town. The three of them had broken through the line, but the town had heard the screaming soldier, and now there would be officers organizing a counterattack. He needed to hurry!

He arrived at the small clearing in the forest with a small limestone cliff overhead, thick vines and forest plants growing down the side of it. The saturated trees were dumping rain water into the clearing, filling the wells to overflowing. Normally there were three holes in the ground in the center of this clearing, but the massive amount of runoff made the clearing appear to be a single lake. He hesitated, panting, afraid of emerging into the open where archers would cut him down. It would have been so easy to simply dip the water pouch into the puddles by his feet. It would not matter — water was water. But it had to be the well!

Pulling a small leather pouch from his waist, Keth dove forward toward the pool just as the first arrow from the city gate reached him. There was a gap in the trees that led to the archer’s tower, cut many years previously to guard the well from intruders and bandits. The arrow hit a rock and splintered next to his foot. His head plunged into the mud, his body sliding through the shallow water.

Reaching the rim of the first well, Keth dipped the satchel down into the deep hole and let the water fill it. Pulling it out, he hurriedly tied the top off. Another arrow, then another splashed into the water nearby. Lightning was now flashing so frequently that he knew the Philistines could see every move he was making. He checked to make sure he still had his weapons, the bow and the short sword, then rushed out of the clearing back to the road.

Soldiers from the garrison at the town had reached Gareb. Their officer had sent them into battle without any plan, assuming that his men would be able to handle the lone warrior stationed on the road.

Keth watched as Gareb swung his sword left and right, killing the first three men to reach him. Dark blood filled the water at his feet.

“I have it!” Keth shouted hoarsely.

Gareb turned instantly. The two of them sprinted up the muddy tracks of the road toward Benaiah. Keth slapped him on the back as they passed, and the three of them charged forward into the first ranks of soldiers coming from the forest counterattack. They now had Philistines on all sides of them.

Unlike the commander in the garrison, the officer in charge of the forest perimeter was sending a more concentrated and disciplined force against the warriors.

“Wedge!” Benaiah shouted.

He went to the front, Keth dropped back to his right, and Gareb covered his rear left. They ran through the rain, their sandals slopping
through the puddles. The dark trees overhead acted as waterfalls, dousing them. Keth felt a sharp pebble slide between his toes, and he winced in annoyance. He wiped his forehead clear of rain, then held his sword out to catch the first soldier.

The troops in the woods were assaulting in a mass formation, which meant that the three of them would need to stay tight in order to rupture back through the lines into the safety of the deep woods. Long pikes were aimed at them, troops behind shields in a frontal line bracing for their attack. It was a barricade that no fighting team should ever attempt to penetrate and expect to survive.

As Benaiah reached the first pike, he ducked low, reached up, and pulled the long shaft out of the soldier’s hand while swiping his sword low across the man’s shins. The blade bit deep and the soldier screamed. Keth and Gareb repeated the same move. The three troops who had formed the front of the column coming toward them on the road staggered forward, their legs crippled.

Fifty men suddenly lined the road ahead of them, and Keth realized that they would never be able to penetrate the concentrated ranks.

Benaiah saw it as well.

“Tight!” he yelled, giving the preparatory command for a change in their fighting formation. Keth lowered his shoulder and slammed into Gareb, and the two of them closed on Benaiah from behind until they pressed against his back as a huddled mass.

“Disperse and rally!” Benaiah yelled again, his voice piercing the storm.

Keth wrenched his legs to the right as he jumped over the bushes lining the road and rolled into the forest. Gareb and Benaiah did the same to the left, drawing the Philistine troops after them and away from the precious bag Keth was carrying. Keth heard the clash of metal as the soldiers took the bait.

He raced through the forest, water everywhere, the thunder
increasing in power and ferocity, lightning ripping through the clouds. He glanced up and felt his eyes fill with the liquid cascading down the tree branches, certain that this was the worst storm to ever confront these lands.

They were going to die; he was sure of it. His courage failed him, alarmingly fast. Despair bore into his heart. They would never get out of this alive.

Then fire roared over him in a torrent, searing into his scalp and fingers as though he had been struck by a bolt of the lighting terrorizing the sky above. He cried aloud as a man about to die, but the power was vicious, and before he could take his next breath, he felt his feet pushing through the undergrowth and surging runoff back to the line of Philistine troops leaving the road to pursue Benaiah and Gareb.

Keth’s sword appeared in his fist, the bow across his back. Somewhere deep in his thoughts came the notion that he needed to escape, the desire for self-preservation commanding his limbs to cease their foolish errand, but he realized that the fury of the covering was not going to release him but drive him into the ranks of the enemies of Yahweh.

He burst out of the wood line next to the road and could no longer hold his arm in check. His sword lashed out and severed the first head it touched. His body tensed; then he twisted into a spin and cut down the next four soldiers in the ranks.

He was beyond comprehension of events, his spirit raging like the burning fire that refused to leave him, but he was suddenly aware of Benaiah and Gareb a short distance away, making their stand.

Blood and rain covered Keth’s face; he could taste the copper flavor. The fire flared hotter and many more soldiers fell in front of him before he realized that he was facing Benaiah and Gareb, their own torsos covered with blood.

He jerked his head to the right and yelled in release at the sight of the Philistines fleeing away from them back into the woods toward the road.

Benaiah, panting, looked as though he were about to shout something at him, but Keth saw the light of recognition in his eyes. He knew what was happening.

That moment was all the covering allowed, because then Keth felt himself running forward again, pursuing the troops once more, cutting and slashing at them as he scrambled up the slope of the hill.

The pouch of water slapped against his waist, the precious liquid securely tied to his belt, and he hoped that if it fell the others would notice it. Benaiah and Gareb, gasping for breath, followed him back onto the road.

Keth killed Philistine after Philistine down the length of the road, turning to attack back toward the city from which more Philistines would come. Several turned to face him and fell before they could swing a sword. Then his bow appeared in his hands, and arrows flew and killed men, but he did not know what he was doing. The sword came back into his grip, slick with rain; he screamed and screamed and screamed. Philistines pleaded for their lives before he slaughtered them.

More ranks of soldiers appeared around a bend. Keth fought them. He never stopped running and leaping. He jumped off a boulder and dove over the heads of the first rank and tackled the officer commanding them. He slit the officer’s neck with a dagger that appeared in his hand, then he threw the dagger at another man’s face. It slipped through his teeth and into his throat, knocking him backward.

A spear hit Keth’s skull from behind, but he felt it glance away harmlessly, miraculously. He turned, pulled the spear out of the man’s hand, and killed him with it, then used it to kill more men.
More kept coming, and he kept killing them. The fire seared and drowned his senses like the fury of the storm.

Keth charged forward one final time, then realized that there were no more Philistines in front of him, no more blood to spill this day. Roaring, the fire slipped out of his head and chest and dissipated as quickly as it had come.

Keth fell sideways on top of a body. His lungs burned. Muscles suddenly ached, his head pounded, and he had no more energy, nothing left. He let the rain flow into his open mouth and allowed it to saturate his eyes and ears. He swallowed several gulps in a row before he realized what he was doing.

He shoved his finger down his throat and wretched all of the water back up. His gut clenched in aguish. White shocks of light appeared in his vision. He cursed himself for giving in to his flesh; the three of them had made their own water vow with David’s.

Benaiah knelt down next to him, wary. “Did it leave? The covering?”

Keth, too exhausted to say anything, only nodded. He hoped Benaiah had not seen him drinking the water. Gareb arrived and knelt on the other side.

Benaiah nodded in return and wiped his face. Lighting flashed again. “Let’s move, more may come,” he said.

The two of them helped Keth up. He walked hunched over like an old man, his muscles and bones weary from the power that had assailed him. Helping him take the first few steps, Benaiah and Gareb pulled their friend through the trees along the side of the road.

They stumbled on through the forest, the shouts of pursuing Philistines dying away in the torrential rain. Gareb led them up the side of a mountain, following a washed-out crevice slick with rain. At the top, they collapsed into the cave they had left earlier.

Keth leaned against the cold walls and began checking himself
for hidden wounds. A man could be mortally injured in the midst of battle and not know it. After looking over his midsection and legs, he decided that he was unscathed. He checked Gareb, who was doing the same with Benaiah.

When each man was satisfied that no one was unwittingly bleeding to death, they took off their cloaks and tunics to wring them out. The three of them shivered violently and eventually huddled together, skin to skin, while their cloaks dried out.

“Not a word of this to anyone,” Gareb said.