Chapter 13
Saul ~ continued from Chapter 12 | Chest of Testimony
“Do I kiss him or cut his throat?” Saul thought about David.
Torches were lit in the king’s stone garden. Shadow and light played upon his jaundiced face as he turned toward his family and guests. Michal, his daughter, and Jonathan, his son, sat on a stone ledge while generals gathered and drank in small groups.
The night air smelled of jasmine. Saul, long and lean in his chair, stroked his beard and leered at the women who came and went with jugs of wine and beer.
“Listen,” he called out to nobody.
“Abraham, Moses,” he whispered while taking a large gulp from his goblet. The old ghosts seemed to flicker to life and turned their cold, dark features toward the new king of Israel.
“Oh yes, I will protect The Ark.”
Saul gnashed his teeth and saw invisible spirits in the night. The king became aware of eyes like daggers upon him and sat up. He waved to his guests and then turned away.
“Children of light and dark,” he muttered. He smiled at the generals and their men who now filtered into the small stone garden.
He nodded to Abner, the host of the guard.
“Who holds the tribes greater than himself?” he thought as he stood up quickly. “Where is David and his small band of brothers?”
He looked around.
“No, my king,” a servant said as he looked but did not see the young warrior.
“Ah.” Saul clapped his hands and a family of travelers appeared. “Tonight we have a small story to entertain us.”
He clapped as two men and a little boy came to the middle of the garden.
“Quiet now,” Saul said while putting a long, bony finger to his lips and then pointed to the travelers.
Michal, dressed in a silk gown of green and gold, came and sat at her father’s feet.
A servant clapped twice and silence filled the stone garden. A tall wisp of a man emerged from the darkness, all in black and with a limp. He dragged his twisted frame to the middle of the garden then threw his dark cloak to one side.
The crowd stopped and watched the stranger half in sympathy, half in disgust.
“Welcome, my friends,” he bellowed with a voice much larger than his tortured limbs would suggest.
“Welcome to this game played over earth and sky.”
His cloak ruffled in the soft summer breeze.
“Welcome to the power of magic, the very trick of the tale. Welcome the players, the white and black.”
He threw back his head and laughed.
“Raise a cheer and damn the blood-soaked ending.”
He drank from a goblet and beckoned the crowd to drink. A loud cheer rang out after he toasted the crowd wildly and spilled wine on his cloak. He then put his fingers to his lips and bent close to the crowd.
“I say welcome to the battle twixt light and dark but now as I take my leave I request but one thing.”
He looked darkly at Saul. “Let us play these games no more but rather drink or be damned.”
He bowed.
“My king, ladies and gentlemen, a tale twice told of regret.”
He bowed again and turned from the audience.
Two men sat down in the middle of the garden, a jug of wine between them. The small crowd was hushed while they watched the men in the flickering torchlight.
One man gulped the wine nervously and began, “She comes only at this time of night, the trees cracking and the wind blowing.”
“Oh no, she haunts the waking hours also,” the other said.
He drank from the jug as well.
“She preys on weakness; she waits for the right time to strike.”
“Evil, I say then, evil.”
The other man laughed.
“She is thinking of ways, weaving her stories.”
The swarthy man grabbed his friend by the tunic collar and pointed upward.
“Do you see it, the web? Look how it shines.”
The small audience settled down, relaxed and also looked up into the night air. The women held their men close to them.
Saul sat in a cold sweat. His skin was sallow and his breathing heavy. He looked at the young David as he and his men quietly entered and sat down. A wide sneer ran across Saul’s face as he observed them.
Jonathan watched his father while Michal sat spellbound. Saul put his hands to his chest and muttered something.
The swarthy man began again, “See how the spider attracts the eye, her terrible beauty.”
He stood up with the other man by his side.
“Come and see what loss and regret look like.”
“Childish nonsense,” Abner whispered.
“Shuuushhh,” Saul said. He pointed his bony finger, “Look.”
“I don’t see the spider web,” one soldier said.
The traveler began again, “Come and feel the pain of loss, come and see how your actions have set into motion a stream of loss. Years of trouble and turmoil, the loved ones left broken while you push on without thought or care and nothing to hold you down.”
He wrapped his hands around himself.
“Look how she slowly wraps herself around the loss.”
The audience sat still, each understanding how alone they were. They huddled together trying to forget the spider web. The guests were quiet as they felt their shortcomings and lost loves roll away in some dreadful game of chance.
Saul sighed heavily and wiped his brow.
“But you continue throughout the years not thinking of your actions, not understanding that the ones you made long ago are catching up to you.”
A single torch glowed and a small waif appeared wearing nothing but rags and heavy makeup.
“Child,” said the swarthy man who looked at him. “It is too late for you to be up.”
“Yes,” the other agreed.
The young boy stood in silence holding the torch. The audience was transfixed.
“The road is pitch dark and only the narrows of pain are open,” the boy said.
“Nonsense. A good night’s sleep is all you need,” the man replied.
The child laughed at the man.
“Well, away with you.”
The man turned from the boy. “Go away.”
Then the two men followed the boy’s gaze as did the audience and stopped in fear of what they saw.
“The web,” the swarthy man gasped.
The web was now complete and heavy with its black netting and sad memories.
The waif continued to laugh at the two men.
“Poor souls, do not worry about me,” he said as he watched the two huddled together on the stone floor.
They looked up at him and then down at the ground as they hid their heads in fear.
“Poor souls, do not worry about me. It is too late for you.”
The audience became lost in memories as the cold night air wrapped them in a communal cloak of regret. The family of travelers stood and bowed to the small gathering.
Saul wiped his face and eyes.
“I must meet them. I must meet the child.”
A servant went to the travelers and begged them to come over to Saul.
The man-child walked slowly to Saul while combing back his long, black hair.
“You had us all gasping,” Saul said while he beckoned the boy.
The soldiers and generals clapped and drank more wine.
Continue reading… Chapter 13 | The Family Curse
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