“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.
(Previously in “Idol Smashers,” the group had no choice but to take Ruth with them. They found the shop of the man who had constructed the idols at Heshonib. His name was Kanab, and he was instantly suspicious of persons speaking Hebrew interested in that city. When Kanab attempted to escape, he was instantly captured outside his shop and drug him away to a nearby stable.)
Day Three – Joppa
When next he poured something on Kanab, Micah did not waste even the poor wine they’d purchased at the bazaar. Instead, it was with water that Micah doused him.
“Utter not a warning, or cry aloud, on pain of your life,” Barek breathed into Kanab’s ear after he awoke with a start. His massive hand was clenched over the Philistine’s mouth. The giant’s grip was sufficiently tight to back up his threat.
Kanab’s eyes darted around the stable. He saw six other figures huddled around him. He flexed his hands, only to find they were bound behind him, his arms wrapped around a stout timber. Though thoroughly evil, Kanab’s mind worked quickly. He saw he was helpless and nodded as best he could with the giant man’s hand nearly crushing his jaw.
One of them stepped forward, holding the flickering light of an olive oil lamp in Kanab’s face. The man’s face was also illuminated in the pool of light as he regarded Kanab.
“You can let him go,” the man said. “He knows his life hangs by a thread.”
Kanab smelled wine but didn’t remember getting drunk. He remembered a man and a woman in his shop. They were Israelite spies!
Joseph saw Kanab’s eyes flicker with awareness. He nodded at Barek, who slowly withdrew his hand and placed a cold dagger-point at Kanab’s throat instead. Kanab’s eyes hardened and Joseph knew that this man would be hard to intimidate. He decided to try to imbalance him rather than threaten him directly.
“By now the Black Cat is at your shop,” Joseph said evenly. “How do you think he will interpret your absence and the signs of wine and broken shelves?”
Kanab said nothing, but he was clearly steeling himself against Joseph.
“Will he think you’ve gone off on another drunken binge? Will he be angry because you have summoned him without cause?”
“Heh,” Kanab sputtered. “You know nothing. You grope in the darkness for pearls of truth but you will find only pebbles!”
In response to the defiant look on Kanab’s face, Joseph nodded to Barek, who increased the pressure of the sharp blade against Kanab’s exposed skin. A trickle of blood flowed from the parted flesh.
“We know the Black Cat moves against the tabernacle of Israel!” Joseph snarled. He was pleased to see Kanab’s defiance fade as his eyes widened. That had been a stab in the dark in more ways than one.
“Impossible!” Kanab started, then caught himself. “You know nothing about the Cat.”
As planned, the others kept silent. In the darkness of the stable adjoining the inn, only Kanab’s face and Joseph’s were well-illuminated. Barek’s face was barely lit, but he maintained a fierce expression, his eyes devoted entirely to Kanab.
“I know he plans to move before the next Sabbath!” Joseph said in a rage that was not entirely a pretense. That broke another piece of Kanab’s defiance away. “The LORD has revealed to us your plans, idolater! We have seen your deceit at Heshonib!”
A bit of worry crept into Kanab’s expression, then he considered something.
“If you know so much, why do you need me?” Emboldened by his realization of Joseph’s bluff, Kanab pushed back. “Why threaten me? What can I tell you that you don’t already know?”
Joseph pressed in so close that there was a danger the flame of the lamp would light Kanab’s turban or beard.
“We want your fellow conspirators. We want the surviving Heshonibites. You – will – deliver them to us!”
“You know nothing. You are bluffing.” Kanab’s clever face was resolute again. “I will tell you nothing. Nothing.”
Kanab’s cheeks puffed only a bit before he blew out the lamp.
In the darkness, the other six heard the blows of the giant’s massive hands on Kanab’s body. While Joseph felt his way back to the door to find a light, he heard the breath driven from Kanab’s lungs. He heard the ribs break. When the latch was finally in his hand, he heard the Philistine cry out in pain.
Barek said nothing as they sat in a circle not far from the idol-maker. Kanab was seated on the floor but leaning forward, held up only by the ropes the bound him to the beam. Ruth reached out and put her hand on his.
“You did what you had to to do.”
The giant Israelite regarded Ruth with a blank stare for a few moments, then moved his hand away from Ruth and continued eating.
“I didn’t think he was gonna talk,” Caleb said, putting down his bowl.
“It wasn’t courage that stayed his voice,” Jezreel said, “but fear. When his fear of Barek outweighed the fear of his fellows, he found his voice soon enough.”
For his part, Joseph was still a bit sickened by the interrogation. This was a new and unwelcome experience for him. He was familiar enough with violence; it was the way of the world, after all. But violence against a bound foe with nothing more to be won than information, that was new.
“Let’s review what we found out,” he said. “Heshonib was used as a staging area to prepare a covert force that would strike a target deep in Israel. This force is to be disguised, probably as a caravan of Phoenecian merchants bound for Shiloh. Once there, they will destroy the Tabernacle and all its contents. They will leave clues to make it look like Moabites have committed this sacrilege and retreat into Moab.”
Maaz threw down his bowl in disgust. “By means of this – cowardly artifice – they hope to cripple the worship of our God and also cause a war between Israel and Moab. Then, when Israel’s strength is focused on her eastern border, the kings of Philistia will marshal their armies and attack on the west. In fact, this strike team left Heshonib the very day the idols were destroyed. It is likely that they are already in position to attack the tabernacle and destroy it. Kanab’s idols were placed in the village to give the power of the Philistine gods Baal and Zebub to the strike force.”
“We don’t know where the invaders are now, Kanab wasn’t told that,” Caleb pointed out.
“But we know where they will be,” Ruth answered.
“We can’t chance them getting to the Tabernacle and causing any damage to the holy site,” Maaz countered, clearly frustrated.
“We have four days to find them,” Jezreel said, “and the LORD is with us.”
Before anyone could add anything more, the stable door parted slightly, and the stable boy slipped in. He ran quickly into the circle of light.
“Masters,” he said quietly, his eyes wide with a fright. “You paid me to tell you if someone came looking for you. There is a man in the inn, asking after a man and woman seen with Kanab!”
Someone started pounding on the stable door.
“You were supposed to give us a warning, boy!” Maaz spat the words at the youth as if they were darts. He rose to his feet, the stout ox-goad in his hands.
When the door flew open, Maaz was ready to meet any threat. But no threat presented itself. Instead, the doorway was vacant – no one was to be seen.
At Maaz’s side in the next heartbeat, his ax unslung, Micah wondered aloud, “What’s this?”
Cautiously, the head of the innkeeper appeared on one side of the door. The rest of his stout, short frame slowly joined the head.
“P-pardon,” the head uttered in Hebrew. “Some men from the – an unintelligible word or two in Philistine – are here for you. Go you must.”
Joseph sighed as he stood. “I agree. We want no trouble here in the middle of the enemy.”
“What about our prisoner”” Caleb hissed, striving to keep his voice low. “We’ve gone to a lot of trouble here and have little to show for it!”
Barek got to his feet. “I’ll carry him,” he volunteered resignedly. Clearly the role of interrogator troubled his conscience. Though he had no love lost for Kanab, treating any human being in the way they had treated the idol-maker went against the giant’s strict moral code. They were simply too desperate for information about the Philistine plan.
Troubled by his own thoughts. Jezreel shared Barek’s offense. So when worked at loosing Kanab’s bonds, he did so gently, determined to inflict no more injury on the man.
Jezreel had scarcely begun pulling at the knots when the side door of the stable burst open and dark-clad armed men sprinted through it.
Samuel immediately burst into action. With a shout, he drew his scimitar and ran toward the first intruder. Samuel had to step between the center post that supported the roof of the stable and their own wagon, but he went nimbly, without a misstep.
With sword raised over his head, the intruder charged at Samuel. In an instant, the distance between them was lost. The man loosed his own war cry and swung his weapon at Samuel. The young Israelite parried the sword stroke easily enough with his shield, but the intruder was nearly twice his size and the man followed the sword strike with a shoulder block that sent Samuel sprawling backward.
The youth flew several feet until Samuel’s head struck the wooden door of the cattle stall behind him. His vision blurred and the wind was driven from him as another Philistine landed on top of him. Part of Samuel’s mind observed his scimitar flying from his grasp and skittering across the straw-strewn floor.
This was more fierce combat than Samuel had ever known; panic welled up, distracting his already sundered awareness. He saw a huge fist flying at his face and narrowly avoided it. He pushed against his assailant’s seemingly immense weight, but to no avail. Too late he saw the edge of the soldier’s shield rise toward him. Samuel ben Abram felt as if his head must have surely been sundered by the edge of the round wooden shield, but darkness overtook him too quickly to be certain.
Whirling to his left, Maaz saw the men shouldering their way through the narrow side door. “WE ARE BETRAYED!” he shouted. Their cart stood between Maaz and his enemy. In an instant, he was around it and confronted a Philistine attacker. Battle was at hand and it was in the midst of battle that this divine warrior felt most keenly the presence of his Lord.
Maaz’s adversary was a man of considerable size himself. He was also apparently a tested soldier, for the sight of the Israelite bearing down on him did not deter the man at all. In fact, the opposite. He raised both shield and sword and charged ahead.
When he reached Maaz, the intruder concealed a sword-thrust with his shield. Maaz was not caught completely unaware by the tactic, but he only succeeded in parrying part of the blow; the sharp blade cut deeply across his left bicep.
The ox-goad swung and clattered harmlessly against the shield. Anticipating this block, Maaz let the long stout wooden pole rise over the shield. Then he pivoted, throwing his weight and full strength behind a strike that arced across three hundred sixty degrees until it impacted explosively against the Philistine’s left knee. The joint broke with a loud crack! With a cry of agony, the unbeliever went down.
Micah was on his brother-in-law’s heels, but had fought with him often enough to know to give the ox-goad a wide berth. Micah and the third intruder through the side door faced each other more warily. Neither man committed to a full-blown charge, but stepped cautiously, looking for signs of weakness, calculating a plan of attack.
Wearying quickly of the standoff, Micah brought his ax into an overhead strike while stepping into the intruder. This strike was blocked by the Philistine’s shield, followed by a sword slash behind the shield. Stepping nimbly back from the sword’s point, Micah grinned at his enemy.
“This will be fun,” he said with wild joy and drew his dagger with his left hand.
Maaz assumed his brother-in-law was holding his own when the other of the two main doors flew open. Then inkeeper fled the melee to make room for two similarly-armed and garbed men who moved into the six-foot wide opening.
“SURRENDER OR DIE!” the one of them shouted in Hebrew.
Maaz described several circles in the air, executing a series of intricate steps, blocks and thrusts. In his hands, the stout goad was a blur.
“I will do neither” Maaz growled, and then motioned for the hated Philistines to come and meet his goad.
Joseph whirled to see Samuel dashed to the ground by a black-clad soldier and then beaten with a shield edge as the two grappled on the floor. He did not, however, wait to see the outcome of the melee, but instead ran to the younger man’s aid.
By the time he got there, the deciding blow had been landed, but Joseph summoned his own training and concentration, focusing it into a single blow. His right heel impacted Samuel’s assailant beside his left ear. It connected with such force that, in spite of the man’s size, his body spun around to try to stay connected with his head.
The big man turned two and a half times across the floor of the stable before coming to rest in a supine position, mostly covering Samuel’s scimitar. He did not stir from that spot.
Realizing they were under attack, Jezreel stepped back from the post and left Kanab’s bonds tied. He paused a few heartbeats to calm himself, then sought out his staff and began singing a psalm of battle. When he found it leaning against a nearby stall door, the psalmist walked deliberately to the place and picked it up. Holding it aloft and thinking a quick prayer, he sung more loudly and rushed after Joseph toward the dark-clad men still rushing from the side door.
Time slowed for Caleb when he heard the noise of battle being joined. He turned to his right to see Ruth concealing herself in the stall to his right. He heard himself tell her to stay down.
Bending over to pick his bow up off the floor, Caleb straightened up and nocked an arrow as quickly as he could. He stepped forward to look for a target and saw the boy who had come to warn them. He told the boy to stay down.
Caleb saw Maaz in a melee in front of the main door and Micah locked in battle further away. A black figure stormed through the doorway, and Caleb loosed his arrow. The Philistine would not know in this life what hit him as Caleb’s shot pierced his right eye. Then penetrating shot drove his already-dead body spinning to the ground.
Barek was struggling with himself when the sounds of the struggle in the stable finally penetrated his consciousness. Like a man awakening from a dream, he tore his gaze from Kanab and looked up to see Caleb’s back. He was loosing an arrow at an unseen target, then grunted with satisfaction.
Swiftly, the soldier’s mind took over the giant’s body and Barek reached for his immense sword. It was in his hand and raised when he stepped up next to Caleb, who was reaching for another arrow. Barek’s trained eye took in the situation in an instant. He saw to his right and a half-dozen paces away that Maaz was engaged with two of the enemy and more were pouring through the wide-open stable doors.
Barek knew where he needed. He paused a few seconds while Caleb loosed another shaft, then raced around him. The big man’s strides ate up the distance between himself and his first target.
Joseph did not hesitate to appreciate the results of his well-aimed kick, but ran forward to the next foe. Meeting a night-clad man almost at the feet of his prone comrade, Joseph launched a flurry of punches at the Philistine soldier. What blows the man did not dodge, he blocked with his shield. Joseph felt no pain from the blows that impacted on the wooden shield; his training and the red haze of combat kept him from the sensation.
Joseph saw the sword strike before the intruder attempted it and easily stepped out of the way. He threw more punches and stepped into a kick. A feint diverted his attention before the sword took Joseph’s leg out from under the kick.
He hit the ground hard. Breath driven from him, agony from his stricken limb, Joseph struggled to get to his feet when the second blow struck him in his right side and knocked him down for good.
Jezreel watched in horror to see his fellow Israelite struck savagely by the Philistine’s sword strikes. Enraged, the psalm fell from his lips but the staff in his hands did deadly work. Intent on Joseph, the swordsman did not see Jezreel coming. The psalmist’s staff caught him on the left temple. The sickening sound of his skull shattering did not deter Jezreel nor stir his heart to any feeling except the righteous zeal for more battle.
As he watched the dead attacker fall in his peripheral vision, Jezreel was aware that another night-black figure rushed at him. He barely had time to right his footing, put his staff in the ready position, and recommence the song when the Philistine fell on him.
Jezreel’s blow clattered off the man’s shield but did succeed in knocking it into the path of the man’s stabbing sword, making him deflect his own blow. Jezreel managed to turn a second vicious blow at the cost of severing his staff. The shield then swung around and over the sundered staff and caught Jezreel on the side of his head. For a heartbeat or two he felt his feet leave the floor. When he hit the stable wall behind him, the bricks did not yield, but Jezreel did. To unconsciousness.
The Philistine who had loudly commanded surrender pretended not to be intimidated by Maaz’s bold reply. The challenge of the Israelite’s summons was irresistible to one with a warrior’s heart. After nodding to his companion to enter with him, the dark-clad pair stepped across the threshold, advancing on the tall Israelite.
Maaz waited them out, baiting the two intruders into rash action. He was fearless, utterly convinced his God would deliver him. So, when the commander’s companion, the one on the right, struck first, Maaz easily parried the sword strike with the butt of his goad, keeping the metal-shod tip pointed right at the commander. The commander’s stabbing attack was more subtle than his companion’s but just as ineffective.
“My turn,” Maaz breathed, and jabbed a two-handed thrust of his polearm around the commander’s shield, bashing in his windpipe with the heavy metal tip. Dropping both his sword and shield, the commander fell backward, clutching at his throat, desperate for air.
With a curse, the other black-garbed Philistine launched a series of slashing sword strikes, driving Maaz backward until he was up against their cart. To be pinned thus was a disadvantage for a man trying to swing a reach weapon. Even though it was behind him, the cart prevented some of the uses of his staff. To purchase some room, Maaz swung savagely at his adversary. The blow crashed against his opponent’s wooden shield. It caused him no harm, but gave Maaz an opening to side-step to his left, away from the cart.
As he executed this maneuver, Maaz spared a momentary glance at the open doorway. A third intruder pulled the commander out of the stable while a fourth entered, with more men behind him.
Of course, the possibility of retreat never even occurred to Maaz.
Both Micah and his night-clad opponent were fiercely enjoying squaring off against an opponent of mettle. Leading with his shield, the intruder raised his sword and charged forward, putting his weight, muscle and hope into one overpowering strike. Micah shifted his feet and his grip on his ax-haft. Holding it loosely, he used the weight of the ax-head to direct the force of the blow away.
His attack carried the man to Micah’s right, across his path, so Micah struck at his relatively exposed right flank. The tactic was sound, but the Philistine’s leather cuirass turned the blade in Micah’s hand and he dropped it.
Now he was angry – at himself and the Philistine. Micah threw himself at his attacker, whose footing was still a little uncertain from the powerful attack he’d attempted. The two sprawled on the floor and Micah resorted to punching the man with his now-freed left hand.
The Philistine struggled against the Israelite, the two of them rolling on the floor, each striking indifferent blows, the combatants too close to effectively wield the weapons they carried. So the Philistine dropped his sword and shield and sought purchase with this hands around Micah’s throat. Micah lost his axe when his hand smashed against the wall. Neither man was able to hurt the other, flailing limbs and armor getting in the way.
The two men were so intent on smashing or choking one another that Micah did not see the other intruder’s dark-colored form against the shadows of the stable’s uncertain lighting. When the sword strike pierced his side, pain surged through him. When he arced his back, the Philistine beneath him lashed out with a blow to Micah’s face that knocked him into darkness.
Barek had barely stepped over the wagon tongues and around the central timber when he was confronted by the Philistine who’d dispatched young Samuel. Their swords clashed in mid-swing, but Barek’s sheer size gave him a slight edge over his smaller opponent, and Barek forced him to backstep.
The Philistine gave him no quarter however, and lithely stepped into a short sword-thrust that skittered off the side of Barek’s blade, then was knocked away by the guard on Barek’s sword hilt. Barek turned the parry into a thrust that scraped the top of the intruder’s shield. But the size and weight of the giant-sized weapon worked to it’s advantage as the point was driven home deep into the throat of the intruder.
With a choking sound, the man dropped to his knees. Barek drove the sword home the rest of the way, nearly severing the man’s head. Barek pulled his weapon free of the body before it hit the floor.
One of the intruders avoided the melee in the middle of the room as he searched the rest of the stable. His eye came to rest on Caleb, standing twelve paces away, just after Caleb loosed an arrow at him. The shaft was wide of the mark, however, and buried itself in the lintel of the door.
The Philistine launched himself at Caleb, closing the distance between the two of them, roaring something in his heathen tongue. Watching the man rush toward him, Caleb knew there was no chance of getting off another shot, so he dropped the bow and grasped the handle of his dagger with his right hand. When he got close enough, both hand and dagger flashed at the Philistine, but Caleb’s slash was premature and the warrior was in no danger.
Caleb was, however, in more danger than he knew. The night-black warrior’s sword struck underneath Caleb’s slash, the blade sinking deeply into his right shoulder. Caleb felt the dagger fly from his now-useless right arm. When the Philistine shield-bashed his right side, the smaller Israelite went flying. With a thud, Caleb landed bodily at the feet of Kanab, who was still bound to the post.
Struggling just to breathe, Caleb lay his head down on Kanab’s legs and was still. He knew the fight was no longer his.
Maaz had no opportunity to make use of his unobstructed location when two intruders set upon him in concert. The two warriors fought together flawlessly and Maaz’s ox-goad could simply not defend against two attackers flanking him. Where the stout wooden staff flashed to defend against one slash, it simply could not defend against the other. The point of the Philistine’s blade struck home between the overlapping layers of Maaz’s armor.
Forced to lean against his weapon to remain standing, Maaz folded under the assault of multiple stab and slash wounds. The fierce Israelite did not surrender even to unconsciousness. He merely lost his grip on the staff as the darkness claimed him.
Barek saw Maaz go down. He raced at the nearest Philistine and with a divine oath and swung the massive blade with both hands. He very nearly succeeded at hewing the man in half.
Confronted by the sight of the giant man and his deadly effect, the dead intruder’s partner hesitated, fixed by his horror. The look of surprise remained on the man’s face when Barek separated his head from his shoulders.
In the next instant, two more black-armored figures raced through the doorway and set themselves upon Barek. The big blade deflected both strikes before coming ’round again to draw blood on one attacker’s leg.
When a third soldier entered the fray and they had him surrounded. Three more of the hated heathens poured through the stable door. Within seconds, Barek was completely disadvantaged. He looked around the stable quickly and saw none of his companions still standing.
With a savage motion that made his six assailants flinch, Barek buried his sword in the floor of the stable. A weary sigh escaped his lips and a wary look crossed his face as he knelt and clasped his hands on the hilt of his sword. Oddly, Barek’s mind was on Maaz, wondered what the herdsman would think of his surrendering.