A Captain in Israel Read online

  A

  CAPTAIN

  IN

  ISRAEL

  ALEX CHAPPELL

  Text copyright © 2012 Alex Chappell

  All rights reserved

  Formerly published as Reign of Kings

  Cover art: Lady of Baghdad by William Clarke Wontner (1857-1930)

  Also by Alex Chappell:

  JOSEPH & ASENATH

  DAUGHTERS OF ROME

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Bibliography

  Prologue

  And the Philistines gathered themselves together

  to fight with Israel, thirty thousand chariots, and six

  thousand horsemen, and people as the sand which

  is on the sea shore in multitude: and they came up, and

  pitched in Michmash, eastward from Beth-aven.

  1 Samuel 13: 5

  Passage of Michmash, 1093 B.C.

  "You’re smiling," Achish said. "The report must be good."

  "The report is excellent, my king." Noph’s teeth shone through a thick tangle of beard. "Things are far better than expected. You will be most pleased when you hear what the advance scouts are saying."

  Achish stepped out of his tent and motioned toward a nearby acacia tree. Noph followed him into its shade.

  "The Israelites tremble before us," Noph said. "Most of them are hiding themselves in caves and thickets. Saul now has only six or seven hundred men standing with him against our three thousand. I expect that number will dwindle when the actual fighting starts."

  "Good…good…" Achish formed his index fingers into a point beneath his close-cropped beard. "What about weapons? What do they have?"

  A harsh guffaw exploded from Noph’s throat, making his armor rattle.

  "The Israelites look like they’re going out to plow their fields," he said. "They’ll be coming against our shields and swords with axes, garden hoes, and cattle prods. When we make our move, victory will easily be ours. They’ll be slaughtered like sheep in a butcher’s pens."

  Achish refused to celebrate too soon. The Israelites had been a thorn in Philistia’s side for generations, and they were a difficult one to remove. Achish hadn’t become one of Philistia’s most influential lords by playing the fool’s part. Even with their meager weapons, the Hebrews were still formidable opponents. Now was not the time to grow overly confident.

  "Have you sent this information to the other lords?" he asked. "Have they been made aware of the situation?"

  "Yes, my king. But your men control the passage of Michmash. The other lords seem willing to let us lead the attack."

  Achish allowed a wry smile to play across his lips.

  "Of course they’re willing. If we take the lead, they can blame me for anything that goes wrong. But I don’t plan on making mistakes. Before we go after Saul, let’s see if we can put a little more fear into his men’s hearts. I want four companies of our best spoilers to go down and destroy the Hebrews’ fields and villages. We’ll soften their resolve before we finish what Saul started in Geba."

  Noph’s eyes sparkled.

  "I’ll see to it immediately," he replied, snapping his liege a crisp salute.

  "I want more than campfires burning in Saul’s kingdom tonight," Achish said. "It’s time we give these Hebrews a taste of Philistia’s might. When this war is over, all Canaan will be under our control, Saul’s head will sit on a platter in Dagon’s temple, and the Hebrews will be our slaves. This time there’s no Sampson to rise up and stop us."

  Chapter One

  א

  And the Lord said unto Samuel, How long wilt

  thou mourn for Saul, seeing I have rejected him from

  reigning over Israel? fill thine horn with oil,

  and go, I will send thee to Jesse the Beth-lehemite:

  for I have provided me a king among his sons.

  1 Samuel 16:1

  Bethlehem, 1063 B.C.

  A nervous silence rested over the town. Caleb ben Elihu felt uneasy yet excited as he and his fellow elders waited for the unexpected visitor’s appearance. Someone had recognized Samuel when passing him on the road to Bethlehem and had run ahead to warn of his coming. That was fortunate. It wasn’t every day a prophet of God visited this forgotten little hamlet.

  Not all who waited to greet the prophet were happy about his coming. Caleb noticed several elders visibly trembling as they watched the road. Samuel was God’s spokesman on earth. As such, he was known to travel throughout Israel chastising transgression wherever he found it. Little wonder that Bethlehem’s leading men quaked in their sandals at his approach.

  Thirty years had passed since Caleb last saw the prophet. He was a young man at the time, a soldier, waiting with Saul’s dwindling army for a Philistine attack they knew was sure to come. Even now he could still recall his apprehension when Saul decided, on his own authority, to offer a sacrifice to the Lord. Samuel’s sharp reproof still rang in Caleb’s ears.

  You have done foolishly… The Lord has sought a man after His own heart, and the Lord has commanded him to be captain over His people…

  At the time it seemed clear what those words must mean. The Lord intended to take Saul’s kingship from him. A new monarch was to reign on Israel’s throne. But thirty years had passed, Israel had won the battle, and no challenge had been made to Saul’s right to rule. Caleb shook his head and looked up to watch the famed seer walk slowly into the village.

  Caleb remembered Samuel as a straight, commanding figure with authority in his stride, but the Samuel he saw today was a weary man – a man bent by worries and age. The prophet’s once dark hair was now mostly gray, and his skin was creased with countless wrinkles. He didn’t look anything like a prophet as he led a heifer by a rope toward the waiting elders.

  "Shalom!" Samuel called out in a warm but tired voice. "I didn’t expect to be greeted by so many men of authority."

  No one seemed to know how to reply. Awkward silence enveloped them until Eliakim, who was chief among the town’s elders, stepped forward and bluntly asked, "Do you come peaceably?"

  Caleb winced. This was not the way to welcome a prophet. Samuel, however, if he noticed the marked coldness of his reception, gave no outward sign.

  "Peaceably," he answered. "I am come to sacrifice unto the Lord. Sanctify yourselves, and come with me to the sacrifice."

  The elders glanced at each other, startled by this announcement. For several moments, no one seemed to know what to say. Then Caleb looked again at the heifer and realized what Samuel intended.

  "Will you need accommodations?" he asked. "A place to meet for a sacrificial meal?"

  Samuel nodded. "This will be a peace offering. We will need a house for the feast."

/>   The elders relaxed. Only a male animal, without blemish, could be sacrificed as a burnt offering. The animal Samuel brought with him was a female – a heifer. A feast always followed a peace offering, and surely he hadn’t come to call them to repentance if he intended to arrange such a feast.

  "If you will accept it," Caleb said quickly, "my family and home are at your service. I will be happy to make whatever preparations are needed. And, of course, you’re welcome to lodge with us for the night."

  Samuel looked questioningly at Eliakim. By rights the chief elder should be offering him this hospitality, but Eliakim studiously avoided his gaze. Samuel turned back to Caleb.

  "Thank you, Caleb ben Elihu. Your generosity is noted and appreciated."

  Caleb jumped in surprise. He hadn’t realized the prophet knew his name. He wondered where the great man had learned it. Now, however, didn’t seem the appropriate time to ask.

  "We will meet together as soon as all have had adequate time to sanctify themselves," Samuel said to the others. "Return to your homes, prepare yourselves, and gather together at Caleb ben Elihu’s home. I’ll be waiting for you there."

  The elders dispersed quickly, relieved to go. When all but Caleb had departed, Samuel turned to him and said, "You’re Jesse’s cousin."

  "Yes… Yes, I am."

  Not only did the prophet know Caleb’s name, he knew his family relations as well. Caleb wasn’t sure whether he should feel pleased or frightened.

  "Will you guide me to his home? I wish to invite him and his sons to the sacrifice."

  "Of…of course. I’ll take you there immediately."

  Samuel followed in meditative silence as Caleb led him through Bethlehem’s sleepy streets. The prophet no longer seemed inclined to speak, so Caleb kept his own silence. Fortunately, it was a short trip from one end of the town to the other. That was good. Caleb didn’t think he could have taken the awkwardness of a more extended walk.

  Like many houses in Bethlehem, Jesse’s home was a blockish, flat-roofed structure constructed from the ubiquitous brown stone scattered along the nearby hills’ slopes. Although this house – by Bethlehem’s standards – was large, there was nothing about it to suggest a prophet would take an interest in its occupants. Caleb couldn’t help but wonder what his cousin might have done to gain the honor of a prophet’s visit.

  Like Caleb and his children, Jesse and his sons were simple shepherds. They made their living grazing their flocks of sheep in the hills of the rugged Judean wilderness – an existence that didn’t normally attract the attention of Israel’s great ones. It was odd, therefore, that Samuel would know who Caleb and Jesse were. Once again, Caleb was sorely tempted to ask the prophet how he came to know these things, but the fear that his question would be unwelcome prevented him.

  "This is it," Caleb said, stopping next to a wooden gate in the low stone wall surrounding his cousin’s home. "Do you want me to announce your arrival?"

  "No. I can announce myself. Thank you, Caleb ben Elihu."

  Caleb hesitated a moment, uncertain what he should do next. Finally, he nodded and walked away. An eventful day lay ahead of him. Of that he was certain. The only thing he didn’t know was whether those events boded ill or well.

  —

  "Do you think Samuel’s here to hack someone into pieces like he did Agag with Agag’s own sword?"

  Athaliah gave Tobiah a sharp look and thrust a broom into his hands. Tobiah, the youngest of Athaliah’s seven children, was seventeen years old and the last unmarried child at home. He was a good boy – most of the time – but his fascination with violence and warfare disturbed her. Sometimes it was difficult to tell when he was joking and when he was serious.

  "Take this and help me sweep the floor," she commanded. "The prophet and the elders will be here any time now. I won’t have them walk into an unswept house!"

  "The floor looks clean to me," Tobiah grumbled. "I don’t know why this sacrifice is such a big deal."

  "Just do what I’ve asked, and don’t complain about it. Especially don’t say anything about Agag or swords or hacking people to pieces. Not when Samuel’s around. Is that clear? If Samuel were to hear you say such things, I think I would—"

  "All right! All right!" Tobiah interrupted. He rolled his eyes and spoke in the weary kind of voice Athaliah had long ago come to associate with boys his age. "I won’t talk about it while he’s here. But I’ll bet the elders are thinking it. I’ll bet some of them are wondering if he came to do the same to them. I’m sure nobody would mind if grouchy old Eliakim got whacked a few times with a sharpened sword!"

  "Tobiah ben Caleb! That’s enough!"

  He’d crossed the line now, and Athaliah, taking the broom from his hands, brusquely shooed him out of the room.

  "Why don’t you go chop wood. I’m sure Samuel will need firewood for the sacrifice."

  Tobiah was quick to move on to this newly assigned task. Too quick, Athaliah decided. But it was too late to call him back. Angrily, she shook her head and returned her attention to the floor.

  It was an honor to serve as hostess to a prophet – an honor she would have never expected. She wished, however, someone would have given her more warning. Men – even prophets – were always so slow to let women know their plans!

  "Samuel is here."

  Caleb’s voice, coming from the other side of the room, startled her.

  "He’s building an altar for the sacrifice. It’s good you sent Tobiah for wood."

  "Let’s just hope Samuel takes his time with the altar," she replied. "I don’t want him coming into my house while it looks like this."

  Caleb studied the immaculately cleaned floor and laughed.

  "The house looks fine. I don’t know what you’re worrying about. Besides, the sacrificial feast will be held in the courtyard. Samuel won’t even enter the house until after dark."

  "Maybe not. But what if you’re wrong? No one is going to judge you by your homemaking skills. You have nothing to worry about, Caleb. I just wish you would have waited and let one of the other men offer his house. It’s going to be impossible to have everything properly prepared."

  "No one expects the house or the preparations to be perfect," Caleb said. "The prophet least of all. Samuel’s arrival was completely unexpected, and I’m sure he realizes we had no time to make things ready for him. Relax. Everything will be fine."

  He was right. There was no way anyone could expect her to have everything in perfect order, but Caleb didn’t know what the other elders’ wives could be like. He didn’t know how superior and judgmental some of them were. Something else, however, weighed even more heavily on her mind, and she quickly changed the topic.

  "Your son is doing it again."

  "Doing what?"

  "Indulging in his fascination for bloodshed and violence. He asked me if I thought Samuel would use a sword on one of the town elders."

  Caleb started to smile, but Athaliah’s venomous look convinced him to replace the grin with a frown.

  "Tobiah’s still young," he said. "All boys his age are interested in those things. He’ll grow out of it. You’ll see."

  "He’s already seventeen years old! Old enough to be betrothed! And he talks more and more about joining the king’s army!"

  She placed her hands on her hips, daring her husband to contradict her; but Caleb knew better and chose not to rise to the unspoken challenge. Instead, he waited until she was ready to continue.

  "I’m afraid when he finally turns twenty," she said, "and is old enough by God’s laws to be a soldier, he’ll actually do what he’s so far only talked about. He’ll run away. He’ll join Saul’s army, and he’ll die like so many of Saul’s young soldiers do. Nothing good can come from this. Only sorrow can result from that decision!"

  "I’ve raised my sons to live a shepherd’s quiet, respectable life," Caleb said.

  "Daniel, Seth, and Joel all used to talk like Tobiah, and look at them now. They’re shepherds. There’s not a soldier among t
hem."

  "But Tobiah is different," Athaliah insisted. "He feels invincible! I think he actually believes he can single-handedly take on the Philistine army and walk away to tell about it. I wish you’d stop telling him your stories about fighting in Saul’s army and chasing the Philistines to the Valley of Aijalon. I know you’re just trying to teach him God fights Israel’s battles, but it gives Tobiah a false image of what warfare is like. Not all battles end in miracles, Caleb. Not all soldiers return to their families. Even the righteous fall in battle."

  "I’ll have a talk with him. I promise. After this sacrificial ceremony is behind us, I’ll set him straight."

  "Don’t get me wrong," Athaliah said, stopping her husband before he could turn away. "I’m not saying there aren’t times when a man should fight for his God, his family, and his people. If the circumstances call for it, I would expect my sons to go to Israel’s defense like our families’ men have always done. I just don’t want Tobiah glorifying battle and making it his way of life. I don’t want him walking to his death because of false ideas of what war is about."

  "I understand. I’ll explain the harsh realities I neglected to include."

  Caleb paused and placed a hand fondly against his wife’s cheek.

  "You worry too much about these things, Athaliah. Tobiah is a smart boy. Soon enough he’ll learn to see the value of a Hebrew shepherd’s quiet life."

  Athaliah sighed and nodded, but she didn’t think this problem would be solved as simply as her husband thought it would. The boy was reckless. He sought out danger. He’d been that way from the moment he learned to walk.

  "I should see if there’s anything else Samuel needs," Caleb said. "Will you be all right without my help? Will you stop worrying about making everything perfect?"

  "Go," Athaliah commanded, waving a hand and sighing wearily. "You know you just get in my way when I’m trying to clean my house."

  Caleb grinned, kissed her on the cheek, and gave her hand a comforting squeeze. He departed the way he had come. Alone now, Athaliah inspected the floor one last time before sinking onto a tall hand-carved stool.