Chapter 12
The Desert Tabernacle ~ continued from Chapter 12 | The Mountain Man
The Ark lay in a shallow hole filled with rain and mud. It was covered in a rough cloth blanket. As Yazan approached the Ark he slipped and fell in the deep mud. He heard a rustling noise and peered up to see a great pair of black wings hovering over it.
The wings fluttered gently over the gold-plated box and the Ark’s light flickered and faded over the mountainside with a Rose-colored hue that became the dawn. Silently the great dark wings fluttered over the Ark and disappeared.
In the next moment Yazan and Aron had the Ark in the wagon and the two oxen seemed to float slightly above the ground as they made their way through the deep mountain pass and steep trails.
The black wings slowly rose above the mountains and turned toward the oxen team and wagon that was pulling away from the mountain pass and toward the high plains and hilly fields of Judah.
David watched the vision and when he reached the wagon he took the reins and followed.
The oxen plodded for ten miles in the heavy mud until they reached the town of Kiryat Jarmin, a border town between the tribes of Benjamin and Judah. Here David watched as the dark wings circled above until landing on a small house on the outskirts of the tiny village, a quiet and desolate place.
“We stop here,” said David, who pulled the oxen to a slow walk. “They are Hivites and tent dwellers here.”
“What do we tell Abner and Saul?” Aron asked.
“We tell them the Ark is safe.” David watched as the dark wings flew off and disappeared. “That is what we say.”
Meanwhile Jonathan, son of Saul, scaled the rocky mountains and attacked a small outpost overlooking Michmash. His men had killed 20 soldiers before the breakfast fires glowed and his band of farmers scattered the new Philistine recruits after the Philistines saw the giant guard lying dead in the mud and rain.
Saul’s force of 750 men stationed at Gibeah were given marching orders once Jonathan’s dispatches were received while a small group of farmers was sent to confront attacks at Morgan. The main group traveled quickly through the Michmash pass and boldly went on the offensive against the much larger Philistine army.
A winter rain slashed at the chariots and horses as the Philistines made their way down the narrow, winding trail to the valley below. In the front of the column a chariot was stuck close to the cliff edge.
“Slow the line,” an officer cried.
His horse raced to the front as the wind whipped his face. The chariot was wedged between two rocks and the horses were rearing up in fear.
“I can’t hold him.”
One man got down from the chariot and was holding the horse’s reins.
“Can’t hold him.”
“Pull them back,” the other man yelled into the rain.
The Philistine archers were assembling on the valley floor below.
“Archers,” one officer yelled. “Assemble here, archers!” he yelled and stood to face the oncoming Hebrews.
The Philistine archers were cut down from behind with hammers and farming tools before they reached the line.
“Archers,” he yelled again into the wind.
A group of 40 archers managed to fight their way to the line.
“Archers ready!” The officers pointed towards the Hebrews. “Let fly!”
The bowmen pointed their arrows into the cold, winter rain and let loose their hell.
The Hebrews saw the arrows and clung to the rocky walls of the Michmash Valley, escaping the brunt of the assault. But screams of pain resounded throughout the small valley as some of the arrows found their mark.
Suddenly from above a crashing sound rang off the mountain- side as a chariot and its team of horses came hurtling down to the valley floor. The horses were wild-eyed in fright. One man screamed as he fell over the cliff.
Wood and bones splintered at the bottom of the trail while a line of archers was crushed as the chariot hit the rocks below and thundered across the valley leaving blood and death in its wake.
The Philistine officer above slowed the column and could only look down and watch as the men were swarmed by the Hebrew farmers.
“Hold the line!” the guard yelled.
More archers came to the line but slipped in the mud churned up by the rain and blood.
“Hold,” he cried into the wind. “Now!” he yelled.
Another rain of arrows took flight.
Above the valley the chariots were turning back and were no longer a threat. The horses were slowly guided by men as they made their way back along the mountain trails.
“We can’t have them killed,” said the officer as he turned toward the men. “Another day, another battle.”
The Philistine army was in chaos during the attack: they fled the theater of battle to the west and east but found themselves under attack from the villagers and farmers who let out their frustration and anger on the occupying force. The archers were caught from behind as the Hebrews surrounded them.
“Quickly!” Abner yelled.
He led his horse through the blood and went at a line of soldiers with his sword.
Saul turned and threw his large spear at an archer, which penetrated the shield and gouged the man’s eye.
“Follow me,” he yelled as he charged the line of men.
The Hebrew clansmen forged a ring of death around the trapped Philistines and Saul’s men quickly set upon a line of archers who were trying to ready their bows against the lightning assault. They killed them with knives, pitchforks and hammers and soon were slipping in the growing pool of blood.
The cries of the wounded and dying spread out through the valley and upward toward the mountains.
David yelled at the farmers around him as he stood in the large mud bowl of death.
“Kill them and take their swords and spears.”
He stopped a Philistine in his tracks with a hammer to his head and as the man dropped picked up his sword.
“Kill and take their weapons,” he yelled again.
He pointed to a breach in the Philistine’s wall of spears and men.
“There.”
He ran towards it. In that instant he saw his soldiers, like himself, lacking the tools they needed and the direction they desperately sought.
The farmers stood behind him with hammers and handmade knives waiting for direction. He could feel their eyes on him and he knew that he, the outcast, would lead the rough farmers. He was again a child leading his father and brothers out of harm’s way and then he would be a working member of the clan. He would have what he desperately sought: the love of his tribe. He was without emotion, the perfect war child.
“We attack here.”
Continue reading… Chapter 12 | Chest of Testimony
[…] Continue reading… Chapter 12 | We Attack Here […]