Chapter 2
The Lion and the Lamb ~ continued from Chapter 2 | King of the Goats
The cry of a lamb caught David’s attention and he looked up to see the frightened animal caught in a thicket. Its shrill bleating had caused the other sheep to move away en masse. David took out his knife and cut the thick branches away while the lamb kicked and screamed. He firmly grasped the shaking animal and carried it to safety.
“Nursemaid to goats,” he yelled into the wind.
The boys stopped under a large tree, breathing deeply. As their eyes met they laughed in unison at their dusty clothes and their life in the wild.
Shimea took some bread out of the pouch and split it with his younger brother.
“The Sachne Pools are not far off,” David said innocently.
“Just beyond the next hill,” Shimea agreed.
David stuffed his bread in his mouth and disappeared over the ridge.
“Father will kill us,” said Shimea as he quickly finished his bread and followed his little brother. David ran down the hill tearing at his tunic and holding his pouch as it flew by his side. Ripping off his sandals he headed straight for the artesian well, which fed into the pools.
The glistening water soothed the rough countryside, each pool flowing into a larger one. Blocks of limestone surrounded the pools. A thicket of brambles and brush grew behind Sachne while Mount Gilboa brooded over the craggy landscape far above. Clouds hung over the hilltops and a battle raged between light and dark on the mountainside.
Underneath Mount Gilboa the two boys played as only youth can in the sunlight of childhood. They sat on the edge of the Sachne Pools while small fish nibbled their toes.
“Why do the brothers shun me?” David asked.
“I don’t know,” Shimea answered. “I do what Father wants me to. That is all I know.” He picked up his tunic and put on his sandals. “We must get back to the sheep.”
David dressed, not wishing to break the morning’s spell. His life had been hard without the love of his father or brothers but today he would wash away his sorrows in the water of Sachne. Maybe after today his father would be proud of him and finally see him as a working member of the clan. He raced up the hill and onward to the sheep grazing peacefully along the grassy plains of Sharon.
“They are busy eating their fill,” David called to Shimea.
He held fast to his leather pouch and his slingshot. Shimea was not behind him so he made his way back to the pools.
“Shimea,” David called out across the rocky plains.
He hurried back to the rock quarry.
Shimea was standing in place, his body shaking. The beast sat there in the rough brush behind the pools waiting and watching. His eyes were yellow and deadly. His muscles bulged with every movement. Grace and death licked its lips and yawned in the noonday sun, almost too lazy to strike.
When Shimea moved an inch so did the lion. He looked frantically at his younger brother who now had dropped to the ground to avoid detection. The lion licked its tongue in the air and stood up from his sun-bleached perch. He roared once and took a few slow steps toward Shimea who was now frozen with fear. The boy closed his eyes and began to whimper.
“My brother, I must protect my brother,” said David as his heart beat heavily.
He quickly took out his stones, found the largest one and slipped his slingshot out of his tunic.
“Steady,” he controlled himself.
He slowed his breathing and laid flat on his stomach while maneuvering to get a better view of the beast. The heat of the day, the feel of his tunic, the ground he lay on, even the earth and sky had disappeared. He held his breath and with perfect aim hit the lion on the forehead. A loud, angry roar rang out against the quarry rocks.
“Forward, move forward,” he repeated wordlessly.
David stood up without fear and fired shot after shot into the large head. Stone after stone landed. The beast, still focused on his prey, began to retreat. It roared and snapped at the air. It pulled up on its hind legs and let out another great roar, shaking its shaggy mane in anger. Stones kept flying and hitting the great yellow head. The animal began to snap at the hot wind. It twisted its body back and forth against the assault.
David was relentless. The lion squatted on all four legs and bellowed at its attacker. David shook violently as he ran toward the pool. His breath came in gasps, his pouch almost empty.
He targeted the lion’s forehead and let fly. With a loud thump, it staggered and went limp. A gasp escaped its lungs, echoed off the rocks and disappeared in the wind.
For a moment silence filled the rock quarry.
Then David hunched over his kill and using his last stones fired shot after shot into the great mane, watching as the blood flowed freely into the pools. Back and forth and back and forth again, his hands worked skillfully though shaking with emotion and exhaustion.
Shimea stood in amazement. He approached the young hunter slowly and gently pried the slingshot from his bleeding fingers.
“Oh, my brother,” said Shimea as he hugged David and they collapsed together on the rocks crying and holding each other.
“Brother,” David cried as he held tightly.
“You came at him with such anger,” said Shimea as he looked him in the eye. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“I remember running,” David gasped. “Nothing more.” “Lion to Lion,” Shimea cried.
Abinadab came running down from the hills with his bow and arrows locked and ready. He moved gracefully and swiftly over the plains.
“Brothers,” he called as he ran toward the pools.
He stopped as he reached the two boys still arm in arm on the sun-bleached rocks. He spared one glance at the massive mane and bloody head of the lion before shooting an arrow into its heart. The body jumped as the arrow pierced the tough hide.
“Always be sure.”
From his satchel he took a ram’s horn and with one mighty blow the rolling hill country resounded with the deep, mellow call that brought the hunting clan together and the Hebrews to worship.
But David’s heroics were not the end of his lonely days. Jesse continued to avoid the boy but showed him a grudging respect while David’s brothers followed their father without question.
The sullen David wandered the hills alone and his frown spread over all of Judea. The Israelites had been humiliated by the Philistines at Shiloah, and even worse, the Ark of the Covenant had been taken from them on the field of battle.
This loss played hard on the proud, warring tribes and so they crowned their first king, Saul, also a shepherd boy from Gish and the tribe of Benjamin.
Obed looked around the barn with its hay bales running up to the high roof and harnesses hung on the walls. The horses whinnied in their stalls. A strong winter wind blew open the barn door and torches flickered in the night air as the townsmen waited.
“So,” Obed said as he stood before the men of the village. “How many men do we send to Saul for his campaign?”
“How many steel swords do we have?” one man yelled.
Obed cast a glance toward the man while Jesse stood up. He wore a bear cloak around his slender shoulders.
“My sons and I make seven.”
“Good,” Obed nodded. “During the time of Joshua we did not have a choice; we had a general levy. And now…”
“We need steel weapons!” the man shouted again.
“Aye,” another said.
“We turn our farming tools into death,” Obed said. “Come, how many do we send from our village?”
“Twenty?” one man asked.
“A goodly number,” another said.
Obed played with a piece of parchment in his hands.
“Listen!” Obed yelled at the men. “Listen.”
He raised his hands.
“Jesse is to lead the tribe of Benjamin into battle. Our men leave for the war town of Gibeah. Each tribe and each clan will send their warrior sons to battle and then return to their fields and farms.”
Continue reading… Chapter 3 | Outcast-Traitor-Divine
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