“Idol Smashers” is a work of fiction set in the biblical era of the Judges. Apart from persons mentioned in the Bible, it is entirely fiction and presented here in serial form strictly for the entertainment of my readers. “Idol Smashers” is an original work, copyright Brett Best, 2011.
Day One – Aphek
(Previously on “Idol Smashers:” A party of divinely-selected men of Israel set off from Shiloh on a secret mission for Deborah the Judge over Israel. They arrive in Aphek where they are met by Deborah’s associate, Mattan.)
After the men of Israel followed Mattan into a courtyard and stable that abutted the city wall, their contact gestured to a rail where their animals could be tethered. He poured water into the manger that ran beneath the rail.
Watching him closely, Ammihud observed that though he was a big man, Mattan seemed oddly delicate, even effeminate somehow in his mannerisms. Ammihud had little time to consider this when Mattan turned to them suddenly and said, “My masters, let us retire to my humble home, where we can deal freely.” Mattan spoke in a voice clearly intended to carry beyond the courtyard. It seemed that Aphek held many listening ears. He gestured silently toward a door held open by a young man who had the look of a servant.
In an unusual circumstance, Ammihud made no comment at all, instead quietly tied his donkey’s reins to the rail and went inside the cool brick home. Food and drink had been set out. They were obviously expected. When his duties as doorman were concluded, the servant boy went back to chasing flies off of the food. Savory and sweet smells greeted Ammihud. In spite of their earlier snack, he found his appetite quickened by the aromas.
“Bothersome little pests, flies. I hate them,” Mattan said, swinging at the swirling insects with a horsehair switch. “One wonders why Noah did not deign to swat them when he had only two of them aboard the ark.” Mattan chuckled at his little joke, but these men were all so serious-looking, he quickly left the attempt at humor and gestured to the pillows on the floor.
“Please, my masters. Sit down. Enjoy the hospitality of my humble home.”
Each of the men, in their turn, greeted Mattan and blessed his household. After being seated, they were served by the boy. Micah tasted the wine and even gargled it a bit in his mouth. When the party looked at him in surprise, he murmured, “Excellent vintage.”
Mattan smiled broadly at this, and bowed his head. “And now, just so we know that we can deal honestly, please to show me the scroll.”
Ammihud hesitated. Did he mean to open it? Deborah had specifically said that he needed only to examine the seal.
Barak, seated next to him, patted Ammihud on the back. “Give him a look. He won’t open it.”
Was the giant a mind reader too? Ammihud hated to be so transparent. He reached within his sash and withdrew the scroll, handing it to Mattan.
Looking only at the seal and comparing it to an amulet he withdrew from the folds of his robe, Mattan checked the seal carefully. He nodded and then held up both his amulet and the scroll for all the men to see. They had both clearly been imprinted by the same seal.
“All is well,” Mattan concluded and handed the scroll back to Ammihud. “Perhaps now this unfortunate incident will be resolved. We all serve our LORD and His Judge Deborah, so may wisdom guide us. You do well to be cautious with that scroll, master. It may bring you ease from Deborah’s allies and ill from her enemies. It is not a device to be displayed overmuch.”
Mattan swatted the boy with his switch and he started. “Keep your eyes and your tongue in your head my boy, and leave us. Go out and tend to our master’s beasts.”
The boy executed a sloppy bow and ran out.
Mattan sighed. “Good servants are so hard to purchase these days. So, my masters, where to begin to tell the tale of this business at Heshonib?”
Each man tried to simultaneously speak above the other. Mattan’s face showed his pleasure at being the center of attention. “Please, my masters. One at a time. I have only one tongue, after all.” He pointed to Micah. “You with the excellent taste for wine. I shall answer your question first.”
“Who are you and how do you have a role in all this?” he asked abruptly.
“I am a trader, the only one in all of Aphek who will do business with Heshonib. Most of the people in Aphek prefer to ignore Heshonib, hoping it would disappear. Now it appears their hopes are not in vain. For myself, I trade with the people of the village though I find their idolatry abominable.”
A look of disgust crossed Maaz’s swarthy face but as it looked as if he would make a comment, Mattan pressed on. “A few days ago I left Aphek to go to Heshonib. Business as usual; nothing but business. On this day, however, I was met on the road by the villagers who were streaming out of Heshonib in a panic. As I am known to them, I asked what was amiss. They told me a tale nearly unbelievable.”
“It is a tale I have thus far only related to Deborah in a scroll written by my own hand.” As few can write anything but their own name and a few numbers, this was intended to impress. Mattan even held up a set of ten pudgy, soft digits, but noted these were men of Israel who were hared to impress.
“Now I tell it to you. They said that early in the morning, as they were beginning to awaken, there was a loud noise like thunder, and a flash like lightning. This happened in each of their homes. They fell to the ground in fear, offering prayers for their lives. After a few moments, they realized there was only silence, and all seemed as it was before.”
“Looking about their simple homes, their eyes naturally fell on their family altars. In each home, the altar was in disarray. The teraphim were all destroyed. There were only splinters of wood or broken stone or bits of melted metal left where their household gods had been. And – on the wall behind the destroyed altar – a word had been burned.”
Mattan paused to roll his eyes at the memory. “These simple-minded villagers. They know nothing of writing. Not like Mattan does. I went to the village while they waited nearby. I have seen these words. I recognized them as the language of our fathers. There is a different Hebrew word burned into each wall in each home. Is this not the manner in which the hand of God wrote the Ten Commandments? I had no tablet on which to record them – or time to memorize them – but I have seen them, with my own eyes.”
He let that sink in, then continued to spin the tale. “And that is not all my masters. The cursed Asherah pole on the hill overlooking Heshonib had also caught afire. It was still burning when I left. Somehow I knew – perhaps the LORD Himself instructed me – that word of this must not pass forth until Deborah herself had a chance to see and judge what had happened here. The Almighty One made me very persuasive as I convinced the villagers to gather in a secret place and there to pray, awaiting forgiveness. I told them their village was accursed and all who remained there would be under a curse as well.” Mattan regarded them seriously. “These villagers are idolaters and superstitious rabble, after all.”
Suddenly, Mattan patted his chest and smiled broadly. “It was my finest moment, I swear upon my beard. I have kept them in a nearby cave for nearly a week, awaiting word from Deborah. They have grown more restless daily, and I have had a hard time quelling rumors in Aphek. But now you are here in Deborah’s name and you will bring an end to this trial. I will take you to the cave or to the village, my masters, for there is daylight enough to reach either and return. You, my masters, will decide what is to be done, at the Lord’s bidding.”
Pointing to Ammihud, Mattan said, “The answer to the question is this: the village is presumably untouched. As I said, none from Aphek bother with it, save I and the villagers are all rounded up.”
All the men were thinking furiously on this curious tale. Jezreel’s mind ran in swift channels and he asked, “What is the history of this village? How does such a blight exist within Israel?”
With a shrug, Mattan said, “I have no idea who founded this village, only that those who lived there are within a generation or two of the founders. They are reputed to be men of Israel, but they do not worship as we do.”
“Then they are neither men, nor are they of Israel,” Maaz said, grimacing.
“Our friend is quick to make up his mind,” Joseph said.
Caleb quickly spoke up, “I, for one, should like to relieve myself and then, as you say, make a trip to the village. The rest of our questions can be answered along the way, can they not?”
Maaz’s wrath was not so easily put off, but it appeared to Ammihud that he would say no more for the moment. He must have been as eager as Caleb to see this place for himself.
Ammihud stood and said, “Yes. As soon as we are all ready, we can depart. Mattan, may we leave our cart here? I see no reason to pack it along.”
Mattan also rose and made a half-bow. “Yes, your belongings are perfectly safe here. My man on the roof keeps a steady eye on things whenever I am away.” Moving to the door, he held it open for them and said, “Shall we away, then?”
Day One – Heshonib
Riding out of the city aroused less interest among those at the gate than riding in had done. A word from Mattan to the Guardian of the Gate was sufficient to allay their mild curiosity. His senses honed by his time in the wilderness Joseph observed among the elders of Aphek some disgust for Mattan. Joseph wondered about the wisdom of Deborah’s choice of agents. However, since he was the first to encounter the mystery, he may have been Adonai’s choice, not Deborah’s.
After having ridden out of earshot of the city, Mattan continued to discourse about Heshonib, but there was little in the way of important information. The man is clearly enamored with the sound of his own voice and the cleverness of his business dealings.
Even Joseph began to be impatient with Mattan when he suddenly rode ahead of the party and veered off the road. The path he took was scarcely noticeable. “This way, my masters. The route is little-used, but familiar to my eyes.” This fact implied that Heshonib has been a fairly isolated village, just as Mattan has repeatedly said.
Riding up to the village gave Joseph a chill down his back and an unsettled feeling in his heart. He looked at his companions and noted they were similarly discomfited. It was quickly apparent that the village had been abandoned hastily – doors were left ajar, articles of clothing and personal belongings littered the ground, left where they had been dropped. A few sheep wandered among the scene, bawling plaintively.
“What do I smell?” Maaz asks. He lifted his ample nose and drew in several more draughts of air. “WHAT DO I SMELL?!” he shouted. Goading his donkey through the group, Maaz rounded a home a little further up the path. Stopping there, he pointed to the east.
“PIGS!” he called out. “Pigs! These are no men of Israel!”
Micah rode forward for a look. “Cursed is a swineherd,” he added, shaking his head in disgust.
“In case there were any lingering hope about the faith of these people,” Joseph commented as he rode through the village to look upon the sty, “that pretty well settles it.”
Ammihud tethered his mount at a trough near the well at the further end of the village. Looking down the shaft, he said, “They’re not cursed by lack of water. This well is nigh full.”
Jezreel stepped off his donkey and tethered it next to Ammihud’s.
“Then we should draw some off for our beasts and ourselves,” he says, pulling on the rope suspended by a long wooden limb over the simple, crude well. The skin bucket held the water well enough and he filled the trough with several draws.
“Who among us can read more than his name?” Ammihud asks.
Barek tied his mount’s reins to the tether. “I can,” he said, after helping himself to a drink.
“As can I,” Jezreel added.
“Very well,” Ammihud said, drawing up his belt. “The rest of us should take a look around while you two read the words the LORD has carved into the walls of these idolaters.”
Maaz appeared reluctant to even set foot on the village. “Micah and I will ride up the hill and look at their evil Asherah pole, may that name be cursed.”
The men rode up the nearby hill to the charred remains of the wooden pole that hade once been mistakenly worshiped as a goddess. Unwilling to suffer the stump to remain in the ground the two men of Israel worked to pull it out of the earth.
For his part, Mattan seemed uncomfortable returning to Heshonib. He seems to sense that something profound has forever changed if. “Masters, may I remain here – keep an eye on our mounts?”
Joseph clapped him on the shoulder. “Be of good courage, Mattan. The LORD will give us wisdom in sorting all this out.” Turning to Ammihud and Caleb, he said, “Gentlemen, let’s take care of these animals and release them.”
Caleb hesitated. “The sheep could be herded back to Aphek. They could fetch a decent price there…”
Joseph waved off his comrade’s objection. “No, that would be stealing them from the Heshonibites. If we give them a bit of food and water, then release them into God’s care, we are guilty of no wrongdoing.”
Ammihud sighed. “I object to doing a shepherd’s work,” he paused in the hope of receiving some support. When none was forthcoming, he continued, “But I suppose the better we deal with this, the more help we can expect from the LORD.”
“That’s the spirit!” Joseph said. “Let’s find their feed and then herd them out here for water. What they do after that is the LORD’s will.”
“Agreed,” Ammihud said. He turned and strode toward the pen of pigs. “Let’s get the worst over with first.”
“Agreed,” Caleb seconded, following Ammihud. Joseph busied himself scattering feed from a spilled sack of grain abandoned near the well.
Micah made a sign against evil with his right hand.
Maaz noted this and nodded. “I couldn’t agree more.”
What once had been a pole half again their height, was now more like a stump. The unburned portion was only a couple hand-breadths from the ground, the whole thing no more than a cubit and a half tall. None of the carving remained.
“Take a look at this, Maaz,” Micah said from his position at now-exposed bottom of the idolatrous pole.
“What is it?”
After his brother-in-law had come round to look, Micah pointed to a carving on the bottom.
“What does that look like to you?” Maaz queried.
“Like a man dancing, I’d say,” Micah replied.
“I don’t know my letters, but I’d say you’re right. It’s a picture, not a letter.” Maaz sighed and shook his head. For once, words failed him. There was a sense of evil in this spot, a sens that permeated the village. It made Maaz’s stomach churn with anger. He lifted his gaze and looked around the hillside. “It is strange how the nearby brush and grasses escaped burning.”
Micah looked about them, then nodded. “As if the LORD wanted only this thing to be destroyed.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
Maaz stepped around the remains of the Asherah pole one more time. “I have seen these things before. They are profane and perverse. It makes me happy that there’s one less of them in the world,” Maaz declared. He abruptly remounted his mount and headed it down the path.
“Let’s go” he said over his shoulder, as if that were not obviously his intent.
Micah took a drink from a skin hanging beneath his robe, then mounted and urged his donkey down the path.
Jezreel and Barek made their way quickly through the Heshonibites’ homes. The smells of rotted food joined the animal odors, but the olfactory assault was nothing compared to the oppressive spirit both men sensed. The LORD had done something miraculous here, but it did nothing to relieve the evil that resided in the place. There was something more than idolatry being practiced here. Both men sensed it and remarked about it.
In this the homes were all very much the same. It was a tangle of overturned furniture and left-behind belongings. Halt-eaten meals were still on tables. Each house was a scene of instant, hurried flight.
These details paled in comparison to the nooks in the walls where the household teraphim had been enshrined. Whether the idols were made of wood or stone or metal, all had been burned and cast to the dirt floor. On the blackened wall behind each, a Hebrew word had been carved – burned – into the brick.
Barek collected some of the idols – one of each type of material – lining them up on the wall of the well. Together, he and Jezreel took a stick and copied the words from wall on the ground outside each home. The rutted path that wore crookedly through the center of the village now bore several words, writ large in the dirt.
Ammihud walked into the center of town and took in their handiwork.
“Well, while you scribes have been copying your texts, the rest of us have been working. All these animals – even the unclean ones mind you – have been saved from starvation.”
“When can we let them loose?” Joseph asked as he joined them.
Caleb did some figuring on his fingers.
“That’s a lot of money to just set loose,” he said at the conclusion of his calculations.
“Caleb,” Joseph said. “I thought we agreed.”
“Unwise is the man who does not count the cost before building the barn,” Caleb quoted. “That’s all I’m saying.”
Before Joseph could phrase a reply, Maaz and Micah rode up.
“What does it say?” Maaz asked.
“We’re just about to figure that out,” Jezreel replied.
Micah asked, “Is it a message from the LORD?”
“Yes,” Jezreel replied. “That much seems obvious. However, the words don’t appear in order, no matter which way you go round the village. Unless…” he stopped, looking around. “Unless you pick the right place to start, not assuming the path through town marks the beginning.”
“We can’t help you with that until you tell us what they say,” Ammihud said, a little impatiently.
“Right,” said Jezreel. Casting a sidelong glance at Barek, he began with the home to their immediate right. Proceeding along to his left, Jezreel read aloud each word as he came to it, “killed I the Lord Almighty, have…” turning back to Barek, Jezreel said, “Barek, what did we decide this word was?”
“Cursed,” the giant Israelite said tersely.
“Oh yes. Right. ‘Cursed’… it is an old version of the word, not widely used today.”
Moving to the next house, Jezreel began to read aloud again, “This place for their idolatry all must be.”
“Must be…?” Caleb asked quizzically. “That doesn’t sound like the end of a message, but somewhere in the middle.”
Maaz slapped his thigh. “If this is a message form Adonai, wouldn’t it make sense for “I” to be the first word? Start over again, from there.”
A little to excited for words, Ammihud merely nodded his agreement and waved to Jezreel to start over.
“Start over here,” Barek urged, getting caught up in the moment.
“Very well,” Jezreel said, hurrying over to a house to the left of the one at which he’d formerly started. “Let me try this again. See how it sounds.”
“I – the – Lord – Almighty – have cursed – this – place – for – their – idolatry – all – must – be – killed.”