Idol Smashers Number Thirteen

“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.

tabernacle

(Previously in “Idol Smashers:” Judge Deborah’s operatives were rescued from imprisonment in the Philistine city of Joppa and race to Shiloh, where the Tabernacle, the meeting-place with God was erected.)

Day Seven – Shiloh

            The remainder of the journey went quickly enough, but when they arrived, the sun hung low in the sky.  The Sabbath was nearly over.  A sliver of doubt lodged in Caleb’s resolve.  Had they misunderstood the portents?  Had they misinterpreted the signs?  Had the Philistines lied or changed their plans?

They were met on the road by the captain of the guard, known to Jethro as Gershon.  He looked wearied.

“The day is nearly closed,” Gershon said.  The last day had apparently allowed him no rest and he was ready for the threat to be over.  “We’ve seen no Moabites, no cart as was reported to us.”  He gestured to the tailings of worshipers who were lined up on the road to the tabernacle hill.  At the close of the Sabbath, the evening sacrifices were beginning and the last of the day’s worshipers served.  All around the hillside, encampments were set up as the worshipers planned to spend the night before journeying home at dawn.  The familiar smells of the sacrifices burning on the altar offered some reassurance, a smell of normalcy.

In all, it was a scene that belied their panicked escape from Joppa and hurried journey here.  Ammihud looked around anxiously, concerned that all may have been for naught.

“Has there been no trouble at all, none coming to the tent that look suspicious?” Maaz asked Gershon.

“None,” came the wearied reply.  “It has been a Sabbath as all others.”

Members of the group reluctantly dismounted.  They looked at one another with puzzlement.  Perhaps their concern had been misplaced.  Could the enemy have been alerted somehow that their plans had been betrayed?

“I don’t…” Micah started to say but was interrupted by a disturbance in the line of worshipers near the tabernacle.  A donkey attached to a small wagon was braying loudly.  It made hoarse cries, as if in pain.  A man tried vainly to calm the animal, but somehow it broke free of its tack and began to jump and kick.  All around, people hurried to either get out of its way or help corral it.  The path was suddenly thick with people shouting and some cursing.  A fistfight broke out, and then others were shouting angrily at one another.  The ruckus seemed to spread like a sudden fire.

Gershon called to his men, “Come!  Let us put an end to this!  Call out the guard!”  He and the four tabernacle guardsmen ran from the adventurers and toward the growing melee.

“This must be the distraction they planned!” Samuel said excitedly, remounting and drawing the short sword he’d been given by Deborah.

A horn sounded.  Gershon had blown on it as he ran toward the sudden riot.

“Look!  The guards and Levites are pouring out of their tents!” Ruth yelled, pointing to the structures next to the Tabernacle.  In her excitement, she forgot to use her “man voice.”

Maaz squinted, following her gaze.  “Guards.  Guards?  They are not coming from within the tents, but from behind it!” he shouted.  “There is the enemy!”

“We ride!” Micah ordered.  He scrambled back on his horse and the rest quickly followed suit.  Spurring their mounts on, they left the road and skirted the melee, riding around the riot to the opposite side of the Tent of Meeting.  There they saw men dressed like tabernacle guardians slashing at the outer curtain of the tabernacle with curved swords in one hand and attempting to set it ablaze with torches in the other hand!

Caleb dismounted on the run as he distrusted his skill to shoot effectively from horseback.  Nocking an arrow, he prepared to fire.

At a corner of the tabernacle one of the false guardians set his torch at the bottom of one of the posts supporting the rods from which hung the curtains that boundaried the court of the Tent of Meeting.  Clearly, he hoped to set it on fire.

But Samuel attacked the nearest enemy.  From his mounted position he held the advantage.  The sword flashed true, striking the man’s left arm and the torch he carried.  The torch went flying and the man cried out as blood blossomed from the wound Samuel inflicted.

One of the would-be saboteurs swerved to go around to the north side of the tabernacle, out of sight from the oncoming horsemen who had suddenly appeared.  Jezreel rode north following the man, but he did not dismount.  Instead, to inspire and assist his mates, he raised himself as much as possible on the horse’s back and started to sing a psalm of victory.  Exerting himself to be heard about the din of the distraction and the battle, the psalmist’s voice nevertheless rang clear.

The north side of the tabernacle was opposite the opening at the other end of the rectangle.  There other treacherous enemies were already wielding their torches to set the curtain on fire.

Having had to resort to thievery on more than one occasion, Ruth preferred to meet an opponent from behind, or at least sideways.  Head-on combat was for persons more powerful and experienced than her.  Therefore, she rode to the west side of the tent to attack the enemies that she had seen turn to the north side of the sacred Tent.

Riding around to the west side of the Tent, Ruth surprised a pair of enemy combatants who were about to slash holes in the curtain of the Tabernacle.  They looked up at her, eyes wide with maniacal intent.  “HOLD!” she cried out in her most commanding voice.  The man closest to her advanced, holding sword and torch out before him.  His companion returned his attention to the curtain and used his torch to set it afire!

“How I wish I had a man’s voice!” Ruth muttered as she drew the sickle from her belt.  She pointed her horse at the oncoming attacker and slipped off the side of the animal opposite her opponent.  She let the beast come between them briefly, then struck out with the sickle as soon as the horse had passed her.  The sickle blow struck the distracted man on his helmeted head.  The blade did him no harm, but the impact stunned him a bit.  Ruth gave no quarter and followed her slash with a kick Joseph had taught her; he’d called it a “roundhouse.”  Her heel caught him in the neck and temporarily took his wind.  The man staggered backward and dropped his torch to clutch at his throat.

While he recovered from her kick to his throat, Ruth had her best chance to vanquish her opponent. She slashed hurriedly at him with her sickle just as soon as both her feet were under her.  The edge of her weapon caught his right forearm with sufficient force to create a deep and long wound, flinging his arm and his weapon away.  Out the corner of her eye, Ruth saw the other man go through the curtain and set it afire from within.  She stepped around her opponent to run after the other man, the one who was, for the moment, the greater threat to the Tabernacle.

Barek, Maaz and Micah spurred their mounts and rode around to confront the biggest group of the enemy, saboteurs in disguise who flowed between the barracks.  They were quick to put the false guards on the defensive.  Maaz rode straight at an enemy and the iron tip of the goad flashed, striking the enemy’s left hand.  A shout of surprise escaped the man’s lips as the torch he’d held there flew away from him.

Barek dipped low in his saddle to swing the two-handed axe with his powerful right hand only.  The blade turned a bit upon impact, but the handle still hit solidly on a man’s leg, staggering him.  His momentum carried him into Balek’s horse’s flank and the false guard bounced off the large animal and was thrown to the ground.

Riding around the melee involving his brothers, Micah achieved the north end of the tabernacle in time to see an enemy slash a hole in the curtain from the rod to the ground.  He disappeared through the slit, entering the sacred space inside.  Micah drew the horse in to a sudden stop and quickly dismounted, drawing his sword.  Without regard for his own safety, Micah stepped through the hole in the curtain created by his enemy, who was sprinting south, presumably to go to the open end of the Tent of Meeting.  Every footfall of this pagan infuriated Micah more and he ran after the man.  Upon reaching the corner, the man hesitated enough to turn.  That was the instant Micah overtook him.  Bull-rushing his hated enemy, Micah eschewed the weapon in his hand and slammed bodily into the man, driving him into the ground and knocking the air out of him.

Scarcely aware that he held a sword, not a club in his hand, Micah instinctively sought to bash his opponent’s head in with it, but the short stroke had too little power or leverage behind it, and the blow merely glanced off the man’s helmet, the blade burying angling off to bury itself in the turf.  For his part, the would-be destroyer of the Tabernacle pushed and turned to try to get Micah off him, to no avail.  Micah had an advantage of strength and mass to match his fury and he used it to keep his opponent pinned.

Letting go of his sword, Micah grabbed both sides of his opponent’s head with his hands and slammed it into the ground.  He did this repeatedly until his enemy was dazed.  When he felt his adversary’s strength slacken just a bit, Micah jerked the man’s head around suddenly until he heard his enemy’s neck snap.  It was a sickening noise, but Maaz had it heard before; when his brother-in-law had done something similar to dispatch a dying animal.

After taking a moment to catch his breath, Micah shambled to his feet and tugged his sword from the earth.  He carefully put the point underneath the layers of the prone man’s armor, just over his heart, and leaned on it to thrust it into the man’s chest.  Every remaining sign of life pooled with the blood collecting under the body.

Micah sighed as he pulled his sword from the body of his enemy.  He looked around and saw Ulla standing not too far off.

“That was disgusting,” the high priest commented, using both hands to hold up what was left of his ephod.

Letting out a long breath Micah replied, “There’s gratitude.”

Having wounded his opponent, Samuel chose to dismount and swung at him again.  This time, his momentum took him a bit too far away and the slash missed.  Though wounded, the man was a soldier and he kept his wits about him enough to lunge and strike at Samuel.  His aim was better than Samuel’s but the blow glanced off Samuel’s shield.

Caleb chose as his target an enemy who ran forward to flank Samuel.  His bow ready, Caleb let the arrow fly.  It flew true, an unseen hand directing its flight.  The arrow suddenly appeared in the middle of the running man’s chest.  He broke stride and fell forward, bowling over his mate who had been entirely occupied with Samuel.  The young fighter snapped off a kind of salute to Caleb in thanks for his timely assistance.   Samuel delivered a coup de grace, nearly separated the man’s head from his body.

Ammihud huffed as Caleb had shot the very man he’d intended to shoot.  Switching targets, his arrow also found its mark in the right shoulder another opponent.  The man cried out and dropped his sword.  Ammihud dropped his bow and drew a knife from his belt.  He intended to finish the man he’d shot, but as he stabbed at him, the enemy managed to roll away and Ammihud’s blade only grazed his right side.

Sensing the battle going the way of his Israelite companions, Jezreel sang more loudly and passionately.  He sang to the LORD, but fervently hoped the words of his psalm were inspiring his countrymen.

For his part, Caleb nocked another arrow and cautiously moved from the melee which Samuel and Ammihud seemed to have in hand.  His bowstring as taut as his nerves, he moved cautiously toward the south end of the Tabernacle.  There he saw men engaged in deadly battle, swinging weapons and limbs, grappling, fighting to attack or defend Israel’s most sacred object.  From within, he heard a cry of “NO!” that sounded like Ulla’s voice.  When he’d rounded the corner and saw into courtyard, Caleb beheld the high priest and an enemy fighting for possession of the ephod Ulla wore, the ceremonial breastplate that held twelve stones that symbolized the twelve tribes of Israel.  He raised his bow but had no shot that safely took the enemy and spared the priest.  Caleb hesitated.

Jumping off his horse looked deceptively slow because of the big man’s size, but Barek quickly crossed to his prone foe and with an overhead strike, buried the axe blade in his enemy’s chest.  In spite of the man’s armor, the blade went deep.  Blood gurgled out the man’s mouth instead of a scream.  Putting a foot on his foe’s chest, Barek tugged his axe free from the body of his mortally wounded enemy and looked around for other opponents.  To the north, he saw a youth holding a horse’s reins.

“Hold!” Balek roared, pointing his axe at the young man.  The youth was understandably startled by  the giant before him.  So much so, his eyes grew wide with fright and he turned to leap atop the horse!

“I wish I could command people like Sara,” Balek complained.  He whistled at his horse, with only a vain hope it would respond.  Balek reasoned that the youth might be a messenger, charged with delivering a report of the battle to someone.  The giant man of God resolved to capture the youth and find out what he knew.  The horse did not exactly come to Balek, but it came near enough he could gather up the reins and throw his long legs over its sides.  He heard someone call his name and wheeled the horse around to face them.

Ammihud and Samuel stood astride one another over a fallen enemy.  “Where do you think you’re going?” Samuel called.  “Yes,” Ammihud added, “there’s plenty of fight right here.”

Balek nodded in the direction of the young man who’d fled on horseback.  “One got away,” he said, and spurred his horse in that direction.

Maaz brought his horse around and adroitly leapt off its back, pointing the iron-shod tip of his goad at his opponent.  “You shall now die, defiler!” he said as he advanced on the enemy soldier.  The man looked from Maaz to the tabernacle and swinging his sword, pierced the veil and tumbled through it.  A sigh escaped Maaz’s lips then he shouted, “YOU CANNOT THAT EASILY ESCAPE JUSTICE!”

Stepping through the breach created by his enemy, Maaz saw his opponent desperately hacking at the hide-covered wall of the Holy Place.  AS the herdsman stepped through, the man turned suddenly and swung at Maaz instead!  The hurried attack missed Maaz but caused him to smash the iron tip of his short staff into the ground instead of his opponent.  The two men circled each other for a moment, then the saboteur swung his sword over his head and attempted to cleave Maaz in two, but the herdsman dodged the blow as easily as he might’ve avoided a butting ram.  Side-steppeding his adversary’s slash, Maaz brought the goad down hard, smashing both the swordsman’s arms.

A surprised look crossed the man’s face just before Maaz’s goad slammed into his abdomen on the upswing of a second blow.  He fell to his hands and knees, vomited, and fell face forward into it, groaning piteously.  Maaz had no pity for him however, and he brought his weapon down on the man’s head with a fury, splitting both helmet and skull.  Pausing for a moment to collect himself, Maaz smelled smoke and looked up to see a spit of flame atop the Tent itself!

As he could see no opponents at hand, Maaz’s lust for battle suddenly left him and the survival of the Tent took precedence.  Dropping his goad. he leapt to find purchase for both hands and hauled himself atop the tent, which swayed precariously under his weight.  He saw a torch in the midst of a section of the hide roof that was smoldering and threatening to burst into flame.  Heedless of any danger except to the Holy of Holies beneath his feet, Maaz snatched at the torch and threw it over his shoulder and far away from the Tabernacle.  With his own hands he beat at the coverings to the sacred space, putting out the embers by swatting away glowing embers.  In his single-minded devotion to the task of saving the structure, the big man did not see the place where the skins had parted until he fell through it.  With a thud, Maaz landed in the middle of the Most Holy Place!

Having made quick work of dispatching the two men at his feet, Samuel looked up in time to see another enemy hacking off the rods attached to the corner post of the Tabernacle enclosure.  One panel of curtain fluttered to the ground.  Samuel’s feet found purchase as he raced to prevent further blasphemous damage.

Somehow Samuel’s enemy sensed his coming and turned to throw his torch at the young Israelite.  Samuel swatted the flaming projectile aside and rushed his opponent.  Samuel’s sword stabbed out from behind his shield, but his enemy was ready and side-stepped the attack.  He delivered a blow of his own but the strike was not strong enough to part the hardened leather of the wristband Samuel wore on his sword hand; it merely parted some of the strings holding it on, and the wristband flopped about on Samuel’s sword arm.

Several more thrusts were made but parried or dodged.  Samuel had the advantage having both shield and sword, but the advantage of arms was negated by the youth’s comparative inexperience in martial arts.

The two stood apart a moment to catch their breath.  Seeing his opportunity, Ammihud, standing some paces away and with his bow readied, let the arrow fly.  The shaft buried itself in the swordsman’s middle, finding a mark just underneath his leather cuirass.  He dropped his sword, then dropped to his knees, attempting to break the shaft.  A heartbeat later, Samuel relieved him of all worldly concerns by plunging his blade through the stricken man’s neck.

Caleb made his decision.  He carefully aimed and shot his arrow.  The shaft struck with lethal effect, piercing his enemy’s chest.  His grip on the high priest relaxed instantly and he turned to face Caleb.  When he bent over to retrieve his sword and attack the archer, he fell to his knees, then to his face, where he laid still as breath and life abandoned him.

Ulla was furious.  He advanced on Caleb even as he held the damaged ephod to his chest.  “You FOOL!” he cried.  “How could you take such a shot?!  You might’ve hit ME!!”

Startled out of watching the man die, Caleb replied off-handedly, “Oh, I had that all figured out,” he said.  “I aimed at his legs.”  A confused, angry look crossed Ulla’s face.  “I figured if I missed, neither of you would be badly hurt.”

While his companion dealt with Ruth, a pagan soldier slashed through the outside curtain of the Tabernacle.  He paused only a moment to set the breach on fire and then turned to hurl his torch atop the Tent itself.  Steeling himself to stop anyone from extinguishing the fire he sought to start, he gripped his sword all the tighter and looked around, waiting for an Israelite to come.

He would not wait long.  Ruth launched her slight form through the slash in the curtain that formed the court around the Tabernacle.  She stumbled a bit as her foot caught on the torn curtain and she fell to one knee.  Ahead of her was the infidel who dared step through the veil.  He was a big man.  Too big, for Ruth’s taste.

With a sneer, he set the torch down where the flame licked at the fabric wall of the Tabernacle.  “Come save your sacred tent,” the dog growled.  “Sacrifice yourself, man of Israel!”

Inspired, Ruth stood slowly and removed her helmet, dropping it to the turf.  She loosed her hair and let the long tresses fall around her neck.  “In Israel, we sacrifice animals, not people” she said, taunting her enemy.  She shouted, “Know that today the LORD has strengthened a woman’s arm to spill your blood and defend His holy tent!!”

As she’d hoped, the enemy soldier was temporarily stunned by the sight of a combatant suddenly becoming a beautiful woman.  She charged the big man, swinging her sickle with both hands, throwing her entire person at him.  It was an attack of faith, what to an experienced soldier might seem a fool’s hope.  Her slashing scythe found it’s mark as the big man’s left arm came up too late to intercept blow.  The blade bit deeply into the base of his neck, the curve of the scythe completely disappearing in the place where throat and shoulder met.

Behind the blade was Ruth’s flying body; she had to leave her feet to even strike the blow.  The impact sent them both sprawling.  Scrambling to her feet, Ruth reached for the torch, the flames threatening to set the curtain afire.

Before she could reach it, a powerful hand grasped her ankle and hauled her away from the torch.  Though blood spouted from the wound Ruth had inflicted, the pagan’s massive hand held her ankle like an iron manacle.  Struggling to his knees, the man drug Ruth toward him as easily as anyone might tug a child.  Breath was knocked from Ruth’s lungs when she’d landed bodily on the ground, her feet yanked from beneath her.  Ruth’s attempts to get away seemed especially pitiful and she felt his hands virtually climb up her body.  He hauled her close and clasped her throat in one of his incredibly large hands.

Her airway closed, Ruth struggled vainly, failing with hands and feet.  Terror made her blows even less effective.  Every thought was focused on dying at this monster’s hands.

His breath reeked of some food or spice Ruth did not know.  “Molech take your soul!” the man rasped.  “I will not be killed by any mere woman!”  His blood flowed over Ruth as he muttered what must have been curses in a pagan tongue.

A long dark tunnel appeared before Ruth.  A wan light illuminated its end.  She wondered how this might be, what the vision might mean, but she was not prepared to die.

Suddenly, his eyes fluttered and his last breath escaped his lips.

Somebody shouted, “LET HER GO!”

The man’s hands went slack and with a violent twist, Ruth pushed herself away, falling down and gasping for air.

When she was able to get her wits about her again, Ruth looked to see Caleb running to get the torch away from the veil.  He quickly slashed at the curtain, cutting away the part that had caught fire during the melee.

Ruth’s body shook uncontrollably and part of her mind wondered why men loved war so much when it was so vile and brutal a thing.  After a bit, her vision cleared and so did her mind.  She looked up and saw Caleb above her.  He held her head on his lap, kneeling beside her.  Something nearby smelled like vomit and smoke.

He stroked the hair from her face tenderly, and said, “Here now.  We can’t have you running about with your hair down, can we?”

Samuel turned to Ammihud.  “Let’s go check the tents,” he said.  “In case there are reinforcements.”  Ammihud took a moment to ready his bow and said, “After you.”

Day Eight – Mount Gerazim

            The next day the heroes stood at the summit of Mount Gerazim.  A man of Israel had discovered that an Asherah pole had been recently erected and there were signs of a recent encampment.  He’d reported this offense against the land to the high priest.  He had passed the information along to the group.

“They made prayers and sacrifices here,” Maaz said, poking the remains of a fire pit with his goad.

Caleb’s eyes darted over the scene, an angry look upon his face.  “They no doubt sought a boon from their gods before infiltrating the camp and setting their scheme into motion.”

The youthful Samuel threw himself against the idolatrous pole, exclaiming, “This cannot be allowed to stand a moment longer.”  Righteous anger was not enough to augment his slight frame and he was unable to pull it out of the ground.

Balek made a theatrical sigh.  “You cannot use a twig to remove a log,” he said, and pushed Samuel aside.  Contrary to his verbal objections, Samuel stood aside.  The giant knelt and wrapped his big hands around the base of the Asherah.  Using his shoulders and legs to lift, he drew it out of the hole and dropped it to the ground.

Ruth, once again in her masculine garb, cleared her throat and spit on the carved pole.  Her friends watched for a moment, mild surprise on their faces.

Micah broke the silence when he clapped Ruth on the back, nearly knocking her off her feet.  “Well done, Joseph,” he said mirthfully.

“Here is the same craftsman’s mark we discovered under the idols of Heshonib,” Ammihud observed.  “It is the mark of Kanab, the Philistine idol-maker whose shop we visited in Joppa.”

The captain of the temple guard scratched a curse sign in the loose soil.  “It is an appalling desecration of the sacred site of Mount Gerazim,” he opined, “the place where the division of the Promised Land between the twelve tribes was accomplished by Joshua by casting lots.”

“We must destroy it with fire” Jezreel said slowly, his voice conveying a solemnity they had not heard from the young psalmist before.  “We must scatter the ashes and bury all the bones.  This mountain must be made holy again.”

“Yes,” Samuel agreed.  “As he said.”

A feast was arranged to celebrate the victory of the Lord and His people, with Deborah’s Eight (as the heroes of Shiloh had come to be known) the guests of honor.  A tent had been erected and savory smells infused the camp as several ovens were set to work.

Ruth had to be persuaded to remain.  On the road, she had learned attention and scrutiny were unwelcome as they threatened to expose her.  Her dread of being drug back to be stuck in a loveless marriage was so strong, she wanted to forsake her new companions and return to her vagabond ways.

Everyone was shocked when Micah offered an alternative.  “You could be my daughter.  For a night,” he suggested, his usual gruff appearance gone and a tender countenance in its place.  “Joseph may leave to reappear elsewhere.  Tonight you could be Dinah.”  As the gathering was a feast and not a “holy convocation” even Maaz gave his approval to this deception.

Some appropriately feminine festal robes were obtained and Ruth shed her disguise in private.  When she appeared again in clothes appropriate to her heaven-bestowed gender, Micah explained, “You look like a Dinah!”

Their tent fairly roared with laughter as “Dinah” was welcomed to their fellowship.  They roared again when Samuel offered to act as her husband.  Their laughter had barely died off when the tent flap was thrown aside and the high priest Ulla stormed inside.

“It’s Deborah” he cried in genuine panic, “she’s gone!”

Idol Smashers #9

bible battlers

“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 Two – Aphek

 (Previously, in Idol Smashers: The unexpected appearance of an idol animated by demon allowed some of the Heshonibites to temporarily escape their fate.  The men of Israel quit the cave and return to Aphek to rest and recover.)

The sun was in descent by the time the weary and wounded trudged into Aphek.  Maaz’s waterskin had been slashed during the battle; he didn’t remember when.  But it didn’t matter as everyone shared freely of their supply of water.  The remainder of Micah’s wine had been poured on wounds, in spite of his sputtering about “waste.”  The city did not come into view soon enough to suit them.

Upon their return to his home, Mattan plopped himself down on cushions and reached for a little golden bell.  He rang it and waited.  Nothing happened.  He rang it again, more forcefully.  Still nothing.  He rang it loudly until Joseph sat down next to him and gently put his hand on Mattan’s, stopping the peals.

“It appears your servant is elsewhere,” he said slowly.  “I’d appreciate it if you would not ring that anymore.  It resounds like a gong in my aching head.”  He reclined against a wall and closed his eyes.

“What am I to do, master?” Mattan asked, almost pleadingly.  “Who will go to get the healer?”

Barek offered to help Micah sink into a cushion, but was rebuffed by the proud man.  He turned to Mattan.  “I will go.  My stride is long and he will be here all the sooner.”

Mattan bowed his head in response, obviously relieved.  “Very well, my master.  I regret that little dog of mine has run off.  He will be punished; I assure you of that.”

Waving away his concerns, Barek said, “Never mind.  Where is the healer?”

“Simply go to the market and ask anyone there for Sharon.  She is well known.  Anyone can direct you.”

Caleb approached Barek slowly, a little cautious of the giant who had performed so ferociously in battle.  “I’ll go with you,” he offered.

Barek merely nodded in response and the two men went out the front door.

After a pause, everyone else sat down and made themselves as comfortable as they could. Mattan spoke to Samuel in a brusque voice, “Samuel, you had better get back home.  Your parents will be looking for you.”

The youth’s face bore a conflicted, thoughtful expression.  “No, sir.  I want to stay and hear about these men and Deborah.  I am one of you, now.  I believe I have earned the right.”

Mattan’s face became more florid.  “Earned…?  Now listen, boy…”

Maaz’s eyes snapped open and he fixed Mattan with a look that would have melted bronze.  “You will not address this man as you would a servant,” Maaz said in a low voice.  “He fought beside us this day.  The LORD used his arm to vanquish many idolators.  I say he has become one of us!”  Maaz looked around the room at each of his comrades.  Joseph’s eyes were closed and he appeared asleep.  Ammihud looked for a moment as if he might offer argument, then shrugged.  The others gave their agreement.

“There you are, Samuel ben Abram.  You are a man of Israel and no longer Mattan’s lackey.  You are now one of us.”

Rebuffed, Mattan folded his arms across his chest and appeared as if he might actually pout.  It had not been his day.  For once, he kept his tongue still.

Mattan’s discomfiture prompted one of Maaz’s rare laughs.  “As Ammihud is a man of many words, he will now tell you the tale. “

Though a cubit or two smaller than Maaz, Ammihud showed him he was capable of delivering a withering look too.

He heard his own voice begin almost independent of his thoughts as he turned his gaze to Samuel.

“It began yesterday, at Yom Hakkipurim…” Ammihud said.

 

After a lengthy conversation, Mattan’s back door burst open suddenly.  The dozing merchant was startled and cried, “My masters!”

The men looked with some surprise on Barek, who strode into the room carrying a struggling form.

“Let go of me, you big bully!” a shrill, young voice cried.

Joseph opened one eye.

“Barek, what have you got there?” he asked wearily.  “It makes much noise.”

The giant Israelite shook the small person he carried as easily as others might carry a sack of bread.  “Stop squirming and squealing,” he said.  Then he nodded to Caleb who took the hint and shut the door.

“If I let you go, will you not try to run?”

The form went limp, then the hooded head nodded.

As soon as its feet touched the floor, it broke out in a sprint for the door but found Caleb waiting there.  Although Caleb was half Barek’s size, he had a few pounds on the stranger and threw him away from the door and into Mattan’s lap.

The merchant chuffed as the air was knocked out of him, but the Barek’s prisoner was soon off him and on his feet again in the middle of the room.  A knife appeared in his hand.

“This dog has teeth,” Maaz said indolently.

“Why bring it here?” Micah asked.  “This isn’t the healer, is it?”  Under his breath, he whispered to Maaz, “I thought the fop said the healer was a woman.”

“Funny you should mention that,” Barek said.

Mattan wondered who “the fop” was supposed to be.

Jezreel sighed.  “This would be entertaining if my head didn’t hurt so.  What’s going on, Barek?”

The big man laughed.  “Took Caleb’s purse,” he said, tipping his head at his prisoner.

“Tried to…” Caleb corrected.  “I’d have gotten it back in a moment.”

This prompted another chuckle from Barek.  “Got a very light touch this one.  When I got ‘im and yanked off this,” he said, untying a bronze helmet from his sash.  “I found out why he’s got light fingers.”

The small figure still crouched, still looking anxiously around the room for some means of escape. Barek said, “Put away that toy.  You’re in a room of warriors.”  When the dagger reluctantly disappeared, the form straightened.

“Pull back your hood.”

A sigh emanated from under the hood before a pair of hands came from underneath the robe and lifted the hood.

Thus unveiled was the face of a woman!  A very beautiful woman indeed!  She had the prettiest, most innocent face Barek believed he had ever seen.

Both of Joseph’s eyes popped open.  And widened.  It was as if he’d awakened to a dream.  Here was a woman of great beauty, all the more beautiful for the wild, hunted look in her eyes.  She was more comely even than Rizpah, whose love and loss had first driven him into the desert.

The boy now exposed to be a woman looked all around the room.  When she saw how Joseph stared at her, the two lace-like brows above her dark eyes furrowed.

“Have you never seen a woman before?” she sneered.  “You gaze upon me as if I were made of gold!”

The rebuke startled Joseph from his reverie.  Looking at the amused expressions on the faces around the room, Joseph’s face reddened.

“Ah.  You startled me is all.”

“The only thing wrong with her teeth are the hard words that pour forth from them,” Caleb said.  He had become wary of the creature after she landed a swift kick when he’d gotten too close.

Joseph quickly gathered his wits.  “I… I did not expect Barek to bring us a woman in a man’s guise.”

Ammihud was not above seeing the humor in Joseph’s discomfiture.  “Yes, Barek.  Tell us how you left to find a healer and bring back a heel-biter?”

Barek joined in the laughter about the room.  “I said she had a light touch.   From across the market I saw her lift Caleb’s purse without disturbing the folds of his robe.”

“I was just about to take care of it,” Caleb said, trying to defend himself.  He was regaled with hoots of derision.

“I picked the struggling boy… I thought she was a boy wearing his father’s helmet…when I picked her up off the ground, the helm came untied and out spilled a woman and all her hair besides.”

Caleb strode into the middle of the room and continued the tale.  “After I retrieved my money, I searched her own sack and found this…”  He dumped the contents of a rucksack onto Mattan’s floor.  Out spilled a sickle, a sling and bag of stones, a waterskin, some bits of food, a red robe, and four purses!

The woman fell to the floor and scrambled to get all these possessions back into the rucksack which she snatched from Caleb’s hand.  “These are MY THINGS!” she cried.  “They are all that stand between me and Sheol!  You have no right to them!”

“A red robe,” Maaz observed thoughtfully.  “You wish to appear as a man but you have a woman’s  robe to wear when the bloody days of the month come.”

Her fiery gaze tore into Maaz.  “I wear that when I want to be left alone.  Men will not try to have me or even touch me when I wear that robe,” she explained.

Maaz suddenly snapped his fingers and then pointed at her.  He did not find this amusing and now he knew why.  “The Law says, ‘A woman must not wear man’s clothing, nor a man wear woman’s clothing, for the LORD your God detests anyone who does this’.  She has violated the LAW!”

Joseph exhaled slowly.  He searched his own memory of the Scriptures.  Having memorized the Torah as a youth and studied it as a man, his mind went quickly to the scroll and the passage Maaz quoted.

“True,” he said, “but there is no specific punishment stipulated for this sin.”

Now Ammihud’s academic side went to work.  “That’s so, but other things that the LORD detests call for stoning.”

A sigh escaped the woman’s lips and she seemed to fold upon herself.  She sat on the floor with a thump and slowly gathered her rucksack to her chest.  “Men of Israel.  Always so eager to solve their problems with a stone.”

This sobered the men in the room and they thought silently.

Finally, Jezreel spoke.  “It is almost sundown.  There can be no stoning, for the elders at the gate have gone to their homes.  This seems to me to be a point of concern, both for the Law and the woman.  Perhaps we should think…and pray about it this evening.”

“We can’t just let her go!” Caleb protested.  “Whatever she’s pretended to be, she is a thief!”

“Would you cry for justice as loudly if it was my purse she lifted?”  Barek reproached his brother Israelite gently.

“Of course,” Caleb said definitively, but with slightly less enthusiasm.

“My masters,” Mattan said slowly.  “You cannot consider keeping her here.  A woman alone among all these men.  In my home!  The scandal…”

“I’m not concerned about the niceties of your reputation, Mattan!”  Maaz said as he stood to his feet.  He reached down and gathered up a bit of the woman’s cloak.  The cloth felt rough and was dirtied by the dust of the road.  “This one is a wanderer and a thief and the LORD alone knows what else.  She must remain in our custody until morning.  Let the elders of this city decide her fate.”

Looking around the room, Maaz saw agreement on each face.  He turned to Mattan last of all and said to him, “You will arrange a suitable chaperone.  None of us will be stained by association with this unclean thing!”

Mattan opened his mouth as if to protest these unfair demands, but thought the better of it, and shut his mouth.  He nodded, then began to think about who might be available and could trusted to protect his reputation.

Maaz returned to his seat and attempted to melt the offending woman with his gaze.

He was surprised when Micah leaned forward and with tenderness asked her, “What is your name, child?”

A defiant look returned to her perfect face.  “Ruth,” she replied, then began to plait and braid her hair.

The men looked away, as this was a private act and a woman with her hair down in the middle of all these men not her family was unseemly enough.

“Ruth.  I had a sister by that name,” Micah said wistfully.  Maaz was flummoxed.  He knew Micah well and knew of no such sister.  But Maaz did not know everything about Micah.  “She died shortly after birth,” Micah explained.  “No one is going to stone you.  But you understand why we can’t just let you go.”

“If you won’t let me go, then feed me!  I’m hungry!”

“Ha!” Barek laughed.  “So am I!  Mattan, have you nothing to eat around here?”

Startled from his thoughts, Mattan jumped to his feet, then had to be steadied by Caleb.  “Fie on that boy!” he exclaimed.  “I shall get us a supper, my masters!  I am a good cook myself and need no help to prepare us a strengthening repast!”  He gestured to the cushion he’d vacated and to the remaining place in the circle.  “Please, please be seated,” he said, suddenly eager to please.

The back door exploded and Mattan’s servant sped into the room, then stopping in an equal hurry when Mattan lashed out, clutching the collar of his tunic.  “There you are, boy!  Where have you been?” he hissed.

“The healer comes!” the boy uttered between gasps.  He pointed to Balek.  “The giant found me with friends in the marketplace and told me to fetch her!”

As if on cue, there came a knock at the door.  Mattan’s eyes narrowed.  “Go answer the door, then.”  He half-released, half-threw the boy toward the door.  He winced at the discomfort this angry action caused his wounded side.

Scrambling around Caleb and Barek, the boy ran nimbly to the door and opened it.

A crone occupied the space, attended by a young man.  “May the house of Mattan be blessed,” she said, entering.  “I am told there is need of a healer.”  Her gaze fell upon Ruth, seated demurely in the circle of men.  “Who is it that needs me?” she said.

 

Day Three – Aphek

 

Breakfast centered around a debate about Ruth’s helmet – whether on not it should be returned to her before they took her to the gates of the city.  It was decided that it would be given back to her, as the evidence was more damming in the possession of the accused.

A couple of meals and a good night’s sleep had tempered Maaz’ insistence that she be stoned immediately, and he even agreed to let Jezreel present the whole matter to the elders.  Jezreel was gifted with words; he could even read and write them!

Last night the healer had vowed her silence to Mattan after he graced her palm with some shekels.  She’d stayed the night with Ruth as chaperone and after breakfasting to an extent that rivaled even Barek’s voluminous appetite, she bid them the blessing and departed.

Though his provisions and pocket were thus lightened, Mattan was confident his reputation would survive this ordeal intact and was generous in his good humor.

“Soon the elders will arrive at the gates, my masters,” he cooed.  “Then we can dispense with this matter and return to rest and let our wounds heal.”

“Rest?” Maaz growled.  “There will be no rest.  We have but today and tomorrow before we must resolve this matter else the tabernacle itself will be threatened.

Joseph tore his gaze away from a surreptitious look at Ruth.  He arched an eyebrow.  “What?” he said.  “I thought you gave no heed to dreams.”

“I didn’t.  Until I had one myself.  Last night.”

“You had a dream?” Ammihud asked, not quite trusting his ears.

“Yes, I had a dream.  Is that so difficult for you two to accept?”

Ruth looked confused.  This was a strange topic of conversation, but she’d learned by listening there was something going on with these men.  Her ears were as sharp as her eyes and curiosity had long been a failing of hers.

“I dreamed that the figure – the stick man on the idols – became alive.  He danced about me and taunted me.  He told me I was too dull-witted to divine his purpose, and then he ran off to Joppa.”

Thoughtful faces and silence were their response to Maaz’s dream.

“So we go to Joppa.  Today.  Though our cuts may run crimson again, we cannot delay.”

“You will not be taunted, brother,” Micah said, smiling.

“No, I will not.”

 

They had scarcely prepared to leave – Joseph’s hand was on the latch – when someone banged on the door from the other side.

“Who is there?” Joseph said without opening the door.

“I am Seth.  I am here for Mattan.  Is he at home?” said a young voice from the other side of the door.

Bowing to everyone that he jostled his way past, Mattan took Joseph’s place at the door and opened it.  Outside there stood a boy who quickly touched his lips and then the mezzuzah on the door post.  “Shalom,” he said, a little breathless.

“Seth?” Mattan asked cautiously.  “Why are you here?”

“The elders at the gate have sent me.  They are calling for you… and your… guests.  There is a war band of men at the gate.  They were denied entrance and then challenged the elders with their right to blood vengeance.  They said their kin from Heshonib have been massacred and their village destroyed.”  He looked at the men standing behind Mattan.  “They say all of you did it.”

Maaz was about to growl a reply but was cut off by a gesture from Mattan, of all people.  Mattan turned back to Seth; “Tell the elders we will be there shortly.  Shalom, Seth.”

Mattan quickly shut the door and leaned against it.  “This is a disaster!  We are found out!  What will we do?  How did they know it was us?”

Caleb quickly responded, “The escaped villagers.  They must’ve quickly found someone.  Some friends.  They may have even come here to Aphek while we were still walking.”

Still scowling at Mattan, Maaz opined, “It matters not.  We have been called out before the city.  Any hope of secrecy is gone.  Let us go out and face these pigs.  Perhaps we can find out where the survivors have fled.”

Ruth stepped into the middle of the group of men, her curiosity ablaze.  “Survivors?  What have you done?  What’s going on?”  Her own troubles were momentarily forgotten.

“None of your…”

“Brother,” Micah said, gently chiding his brother-in-law, “don’t forget Ruth is a woman.  Don’t be so rough.”

Maaz was stunned by this remonstrance, so rare from his brother-in-law.

Micah turned to Ruth.  “We’ve no time for tale-bearing,” he said patronizingly.  “These men are here to kill us.”

“We must face them, of course,” Ammihud said, thinking out loud.

“I was thinking about riding out the opposite end of the city,” Mattan offered with a weak smile.

“You will get us horses,” Maaz said slowly, punctuating his instructions with a prodding finger in Mattan’s chest.  You will have them brought to the gate of the city, along with our cart and belongings.  We will deal with these avengers of blood, if that’s what they really are.  Then we will leave for Joppa.”

Ammihud grabbed Ruth by the arm.  “We were going to take this one to the elders anyway.”

Ruth was about to protest, but saw steel in the gaze of every man save Micah and Mattan.  Nevertheless, she yanked her arm from Ammihud’s small hand.

“I would be happy to go in Micah’s company!” she said, taking the older man’s arm in hers.

In spite of the occasion, Micah had to smile.  “Just like my Ruth would’ve been,” he muttered and smiling, escorted Ruth past Mattan and out the front door.

 

As a group, they walked warily up to the gates of the city of Aphek.  So intent were they on the looming threat that only Micah noticed Ruth had put on her helmet, stuffing her braided hair up into it.  “This is not her fight, but she intends to survive it,” Micah thought.

A crowd had gathered.  People gather in much the same places vultures do.  The difference between the two being, where one hopes for a meal, the other for a spectacle.

A spectacle was unfolding here.

Thirteen heavily armed men stood before their mounts outside the city gates.  This band of thugs were inadequately met by a trio of guards and a half-dozen elders.  Four slingers had mounted the walls and kept a nervous eye on the proceedings.

The self-proclaimed “avengers of blood” were obviously professional soldiers or brigands, desperate men who made their living by works of violence.  If they really were kin to the Heshonibites, it was a remarkable coincidence that they were all professional killers too.

Worried looks crossed the faces of the elders as the group strode out of the gates, the crowd parting before them as the waters parted before Moses’ upraised rod.  Deborah’s men were no strangers to battle and strode into this arena with weapons at the ready.  Arms lost in yesterday’s battle were resupplied from their cart.

“Where is Mattan?” one of the elders asked.

Before anyone else could frame a reply, Joseph spoke in a confident voice, “Mattan is of no account here.  He is merely our host in Aphek.  We are the men you seek.”

Ammihud and Maaz looked at one another with mild surprise, as if to say, “Who put him in charge?”

“Ah,” the man said and gave way to an older man who stepped around him.  “These men came this morning demanding the right to face and accuse you of murder.  They say the nearby village of Heshonib has been razed and its people killed… by you.”

“That’s right” a rough voice spoke from the middle of the line of the avengers.  A tall man with dark hair and a weather-beaten, scarred face strode forward.  “You lot have blood on your hands.  The blood of my people.  I claim yours.”  It was plain by the look on his face that he didn’t care whether anyone believed his claims or not.  He was primed for a fight and would broach no disappointment.

Maaz was, as ever, ready to meet him nose to nose.

But the elders were in the way.

“Yes.  Well.  That’s what he’s said right along.  In fact, that’s all that he’s said.  Over and over again.”  This man saw through the avenger’s subterfuge, but had the safety of the city to think about.  “We have impressed upon him that though Aphek is not a city of refuge – no place to escape legitimate vengeance – we are not prepared to just hand people over on an accusation.  You may only be guests in our city, but you are in our city.  And we have rules.”

The avenger’s spokesman showed what he thought about Aphek’s rules by spitting a bilious brown stream on the ground.

The elder sighed.  “So.  Here you are to tell us your side of this story.”

Joseph took a moment to physically insert himself between Maaz and the avenger.  Interrupting Ammihud, he said, “We are only passing through Aphek.  We have no business with a village called Heshonib nor with these idolators.  Very soon we will be prepared to leave and will take our business elsewhere.”

“But what about these men – their charges?”

“Have they any proof?”

The avenger grunted and raised two fingers.  Another member of his party came forward, pushing along a boy child, one not ten years of age.

“Tell ‘em, boy,” the ringleader grunted.

Wide-eyed, the boy child regarded Deborah’s men and told a halting, confused tale of the events at the cave.  Upon their escape, they fled to Heshonib, only to find it burned to the ground.  These men, the avengers, were poking about the ruins.

“That’s enough, boy,” the spokesman said, roughly grabbing the child and pushing him back to the man who’d brought him forward.  Giving him equally rough treatment, the man hustled the boy back behind their line and directed him to hold their horses.

“You don’t seem very tender-hearted toward this survivor,” Maaz observed drily.

The avenger was losing the little patience he possessed.  “That’s all the proof you need.  Elder, tell your men to not interfere.  This lot can try to defend themselves and let blood decide.”

The oldest of the ruling elders looked into the eyes of each of his fellows.  Without speaking, they came to a decision that let them off the hook.

“If you intend to leave Aphek,” he said to Joseph, “you may leave peaceably.  What you do afterward is none of our concern.”

“So you would leave your Israelite brothers to be hounded by these curs,” Ammihud said stepping forward.  The courage in his voice exceeded the menace of his stature.

“We who live here on the borders learn to get along.  We don’t have the privilege of choosing our neighbors as some of our other tribes do.  You who do not live on the borders do not understand.”

The warrior spoke quickly, barely restraining himself from reaching out and shaking the old city leader into submission.  “We will not stand by and let this lot just ride off.  We demand the right to combat now.  The blood of our people demands satisfaction.”

Joseph looked to his fellows.  “I think we’ve learned all we can here.  Why don’t we go get our mounts and leave?”  Cautious nods of assent were the only reply he got.

The chief elder looked from man to man and nodded too.  “It is the best way.”

“I told them being civil wouldn’t work,” the avenger’s spokesman said.  He raised four fingers and immediately in the line behind him, four men twirled slings over their heads and loosed stones.  Heads turned just in time to see a couple puffs of dust appear near the top of the stone wall and one of the guards fall just before the “Thump!” of the stone hitting flesh reached their ears.

The avengers’ leader pushed the elder into Joseph and stepped back to draw his sword.

Joseph caught the man and gently pushed him aside.  In that instant, people were scattering everywhere.

The spokesman lunged for Joseph, following the point of his sword with his massive bulk.  Joseph adroitly sidestepped his attack and delivered an ineffectual blow to the man’s armored midsection.  The leader of the avengers reared back and lunged again at the prophet, counting on the speed and mass of his body to carry the day if his sword did not.  He learned too late of Joseph’s deftness and this second assault was rendered as ineffective as the first.

Another avenger barreled through the elders and guards, scattering them.  He swung a curved sword at Maaz, who blocked the strike with one end of his goad and brought the other end smashing into the man’s throat.  He fell to his knees, gasping for air.  Seconds later, the big Isrealite’s goad swung again and knocked the man’s helmet off, crushing his skull in the process.

With a cry, Ammihud dashed around a fleeing elder and confronted another of the avengers.  His bravado made no impression whatsoever on the seasoned warrior who merely grinned evilly.  The bladed polearm the man wielded was only a blur in the corner of Ammihud’s eye as something slammed into him, knocking him to the ground.  His side felt wet and tears filled his eyes before the world went dark.

A guard stepped over Ammihud, to strike at the fallen Israelite’s attacker, but his sword strike was easily parried.

Micah drew his axe with one hand and pulled Ruth behind him with the other.  “Stay behind me,” he cautioned.

On the wall behind the melee, one of the slingers summoned his courage and his sling and let a stone loose back at one of the enemy slingers.   Unfortunately, the enemy’s aim was better and he felt the impact of a stone smash his shoulder.  He nearly tumbled off the wall, but managed to steady himself enough to see a red welt already forming.  He felt his right arm going numb and dropped his sling.

Another stone zipped over the melee.  This one struck home with a loud smack on the leading leg of one of the enemy slingers.  He managed to loose a stone himself, but his aim was spoiled and the shot struck the city wall.

His fellow prepared a sling, but before he could wield it, something struck him on the side of the head and drove him to the ground.

The third guard caught in the melee had opportunity to draw his weapon before one of the avengers was upon him.  The black-armored warrior’s blade sliced the air, missing by the narrowest of margins.

Seeing Ammihud fall, Barek let cry an angry roar.  Rushing forward, he drew his sword and charged into the melee, determined to save his diminutive friend.

Most men would have at least hesitated when beholding the giant Barek bearing down on them.  But this avenger felt only a cold resolve as he strode forward to meet the immense Israelite’s charge.  It would be his last act of bravado.  Barek’s blade had hewn him in half even as the man was congratulating himself on his bravery.

One of the city gate guardians let out a cry, clutching at his back.  An avenger of blood withdrew his sword from the guard’s back, the blade stained with life-blood.  The stricken guard slumped forward and did not stir.

The chief elder had been flung behind the lines of battling warriors.  Caleb reached out to steady the old man and with two hands full of his robe, pulled him close and yelled, “GO GET HELP!  SEND MEN TO FIGHT!”  When the chief elder nodded his assent, Caleb turned and pushed him toward the city gate.

Caleb watched him go, then turned back to the battle before him.  He reached first for the dagger, then thought the better of joining in close combat so ill-equipped and drew his bow instead.  He waited for a clear shot.

At the southernmost end of the line of avengers, a man ran forward, brandishing his spear.  Samuel’s scimitar was in his hand, and he answered the avenger’s charge with a battle cry and charge of his own.  In spite of his opponent having the advantage of reach, Samuel’s blade tasted blood first, being buried deep within the “avenger’s” abdomen.

Though relatively inexperienced in actual battle, Samuel was well-practiced in martial arts and held keen senses.  Samuel knew that an avenger rushing at him from behind.  The pagan thug’s face bore a look of surprise when Samuel spun around suddenly, the arc of his scimitar a blur that arrived first.  The thug ran into Samuel’s attack and folded in half upon his weapon.  A spray of blood came from between his wordless lips.

Jezreel’s sling was in his hand.  Faster than conscious thought, the leather strap whistled over his head and the stone flew from it.  The missile struck the man at the north end of the line of avengers.  It caught him in an armored upper chest, and nearly spun him around.  However, the powerful warrior quickly recovered.  He cracked his neck and grimaced at Jezreel.  He strode forward, drawing both a sword and dagger.

In spite of the menace of this figure, Jezreel calmly stepped backward and reached for another stone.  He hummed the tune of his favorite psalm.  With a supernatural calm settling like dew on his soul, Jezreel stepped back and prepared another shot.

His opponent was running now, and Jezreel would be blessed indeed to get off another stone before the avenger was close enough to strike.  A blessing came in the form of a slingshot that came from behind Jezreel, striking his onrushing assailant in the side.  This forced the man to break stride, stumbling a bit.  Jezreel blessed the slinger on the wall behind him, and quickly let his own stone fly.

He had hurried too much and the shot sailed over the head of the avenger.  All he had succeeded in doing was getting the entirety of the man’s angry attention.  He lurched toward Jezreel, closing the gap between them.

The murderous look in the eyes of the avenger closing upon Jezreel changed to indecision as he stopped in his tracks.  Behind the psalmist he saw armed men pouring out of the gates of Aphek.  Though they were but simple peasants armed only with tools and daggers, their numbers were a threat.  With a grunt at Jezreel, he turned to run, but his injured leg gave way when he attempted to pivot on it.

Jezreel watched him sprawl in the dirt and blinked.  Not knowing the cause of his good fortune, the psalmist was a bit stunned and undecided as to what to do next.  Moments later, several men of Aphek swarmed on the avenger.  Their enthusiastic, if inexpert, attacks soon finished the man.

Trapped in the middle of a sudden conflagration of flashing weapons, the third elder dropped to the ground and held his hands over his heads.  Prayer was his best defense, and he pursued it with all his heart.

At the other end of the line of battling men, one of the pagan thugs attacked a gate guardian who was already set upon by another of the avengers.  But the guard proved his mettle by parrying this second attack.  Confronted by two attackers, the guard acquitted himself well.  He deflected all but a slash that caught his shoulder above the round shield that he carried.

Seeing out of the corner of his eye that one of the gate guardians was beset by two attackers, Samuel rushed to his aid.  Catching the nearest avenger unprepared, Samuel hewed him down with a single slash.

From the relative safety of her position behind Micah, Ruth watched the bloody combat with wide eyes.  Where seconds earlier she had foolishly considered joining the battle, she now thought the better of it and began to back away.

Fumbling in her rucksack, Ruth’s fingers closed about the handle of her sickle.  She withdrew the farm implement-turned-weapon and continued to back slowly away from the horrifying sight of men slaughtering one another.

Micah glanced over his shoulder to see that Ruth was indeed behind him.  She was and getting further behind him by the minute!  “I didn’t say that far behind,” he muttered.  With an oath, Micah turned and rushed forward, intent on attacking one of the enemy slingers before him.  The slinger was a taller, thinner, man and he deftly avoided the Israelite’s strike.

The leader of the avengers summed up the battle field in a glance.  Half his party was already down and even the spineless fish in Aphek would overwhelm them.

“MEN!  WE ARE AWAY!” he yelled.  He backed away from Joseph, just avoiding the roundhouse kick the Israelite launched at his head.  He turned and sprinted toward the horses a few paces behind him.

One of the avengers ducked under Barek’s sword slash.  Backing away, he turned to run toward the safety of the horses.  But Barek’s giant strides covered a greater expanse of turf and his second swing took the man at the place where neck meets shoulder.  The back of the fleeing avenger’s armor was rent in two and he was driven to the ground, face first.

Caleb would have loosed his arrow into the back of the retreating leader of the avengers of blood, but Joseph was interposed between them.  Sighing, Caleb tried to step around Joseph, to a clear field of fire, but only succeeded in bumping into Maaz.

Wide-eyed, Maaz turned on Caleb, brandishing his goad.  At the last moment, he recognized his comrade and aborted his attack.  “Caleb!” he said through gritted teeth.  “Watch where you tread!”

Hearing the leader’s command, the northernmost avenger slinger turned on his heel and sprinted toward the horses.  A pair of stones slung from the wall behind him slammed into the man.  One shattered his ankle, dropping him in mid-stride.  The second stone clattered against his helmet before he hit the ground.

One of the avengers ignored the behest of his commander and sank his spear into the throat of a gate guardian.  Dropping his own weapon and clutching ineffectually at the shaft of the spear, the guardian was driven down by the force of the dark avenger’s attack.

Joseph sprinted to catch the retreating commander of the avengers.  He leapt at the man, snatching at his billowing robe, but fell short of the mark as the avenger leapt onto the waiting horse.

“TAKE ME!” the Heshonibite boy wailed, but the leader of the avengers of blood merely spurred his horse over the top of the youth, crushing him beneath pounding hooves.

When one of the dark-clad avengers turned his head to see his commander galloping away, Micah pressed his sudden advantage and stabbed at him with his sword.  The avenger recovered in time, however, to deflect the force of Micah’s blow away with his shield.  They traded swings and parries before Micah’s blade bit flesh twice and his opponent fell backward.   He cast aside both weapon and shield and pleaded for mercy as his blood stained the soil.

Maaz spun away from Caleb and sprinted into the melee.  The thick goad in his hands described a wide arc that came to a sudden end when it struck the head of the avenger.  He crumpled against a man of Aphek, who stabbed him for good measure.

The last of the avengers discarded all pretense of bravery and sprinted toward the horses.  Maaz ran up and cried, “Let us give chase!” but Barek restrained him.

“Rather let him deliver a warning to his keepers that men of Israel are not idle while their enemies spin dark webs,” Barek said quietly, a little winded from his exertions.

Maaz relaxed in the giant’s grip, glaring at the retreating rider as if a look could kill.

Caleb considered shooting the rider, but weighing the distance and his expertise against the expense of arrows, decided against it.  He grunted and relaxed, replacing the arrow in his quiver.

Picking himself up off the ground, Joseph drew in a sharp breath and said to Maaz and Barek, “Let’s see who holds the leash of these dogs.”  He strode toward one of the fallen avengers, then knelt to search the man.  Maaz had joined him when he found the avenger’s purse and withdrew it from his sash.   Shaking the contents into his hand, Joseph showed Maaz the coins.

“Philistine,” Joseph said.

Maaz spit on the inert form and muttered, “Philistines, sure.”

Behind them, Barek cried out, “Ammihud!”  A few giant strides took Barek to his fallen comrade.  He knelt beside Ammihud and roughly hauled his fallen friend’s head and shoulders onto his lap.

“Ammihud!” he cried, “Do you live?”

Ammihud groaned.  “Only in this life could a clumsy, ham-handed oaf like you cause me such pain!”

Barek saw that the left side of Ammihud’s robe was stained with blood.

“MATTAN!” the giant thundered.  “BRING THE HEALER!”

Ammihud winced.  “You are so loud,” he said weakly.

Micah turned from his felled opponent and looked for Ruth.  He saw her kneeling next to the unmoving form of one of the avengers.  With hands that were adept and obviously experienced, she quickly found the man’s purse, cut it loose with her sickle, and hid it beneath her own robe.

Standing, Ruth turned to see Micah staring at her, agape.  She saw no shame in the dead providing for the living.  Spoils of war, she would call it.

She avoided Micah’s eye and moved on to the next slain adversary.  She had to reach around the gore of the man’s insides out to try to find his purse.  She nearly had it when something strong pulled her away from the corpse and to her feet.

The next thing she saw was Micah’s steely gaze beneath furrowed brows.

“Have you no shame?!” he growled.

Idol Smashers (Number Seven)

“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.

Soldiers

Day Two – The Cave

 (Previously, in Idol Smashers: Our heroes destroyed the abandoned village Heshonib, attempting to erase all signs of the idolatry that had taken place in Israel.  That night, through a set of dreams given to some of the men, it became clear that the threat to Israel was greater than a single remote village; the Tabernacle itself was the object of some evil plot that merely included the idolatry of the Heshonibites.)

Before leaving his home, Mattan counseled them to lift their countenances.  “You have the look of deadly business on your faces,” he said.  “And though we are among countrymen, it is not always good to cast the lot on the table where all may see it.”

Jezreel nodded and made a sign against evil with his hands.

Joseph managed half a smile and said, “Let us be iron on the inside but lamb’s wool on the outside.”

 

As they had done the day before, the party was led sharply off the road by Mattan at a point only his eye could discern.  For the most part, the only sound the travelers made was intermittent conversation and a travel psalm sung by Jezreel.  The LORD used the words of the song to fortify their spirits, preparing them for the difficult and brutal task that lay ahead.

After a few miles, a ravine appeared on the horizon, one that had been invisible to their eyes before.

“It is an ideal hiding place, is it not?” Mattan queried.  “Along the sides of the ravine there are natural caves, some of them quite large.”

“How did you find this place?” Maaz asked, a little edge to his voice.  Like Barek, he suspected Mattan was more than the effete merchant he seemed.  What tempered Maaz’s suspicions was that Mattan was Deborah’s man and she was not likely to be easily fooled.

If he noticed Maaz’s tone, Mattan betrayed no reaction.  “It has been used by my family for generations, my masters.  A prosperous merchant sometimes needs a safe place to store his goods while awaiting a better price.”

Maaz wondered if Mattan’s ancestors had engaged in smuggling or banditry in addition to trade, but kept his suspicions to himself.  He merely grunted and nodded a kind of approval.

The party stopped at the edge of the trail down into the ravine.  There were several children playing out in the sun, being patiently watched by a young man wearing armor.  The scene was both typical and surreal – children playing under the care of an armed guard – this was not something seen in Israel.

Joseph asked, “Shall we leave some bowmen or a slinger here at the top in case some escape when the melee starts?”  Joseph himself carried neither bow nor sling, nor weapon of any kind.  This was a curiosity and Micah wondered how he had not noticed it before.  Before he could ask Joseph about it, Maaz spoke.

“I have considered this,” he said slowly.  “But my heart tells me that all of us should enter the cave, all of us sharing the responsibility for what we must do.”

Joseph considered the herdsman’s reply and said, “So be it.”  He urged his mount down the path with Mattan close behind.

“Mind your footing, for this path is narrow,” Mattan instructed, fussing because Joseph went before him.

At the sound of approaching hooves, the guard leapt to his feet.  He put his helmet on and picked up his shield, standing at something resembling a stiff military posture.  The children stopped playing and chattering at one another in a tongue bearing bits of Philistine and Hebrew, then hurried around the guard and into the mouth of the cave.

“Samuel ben Abram,” Mattan called, “have you kept your guard?”

The young man’s soldier-like deference to Mattan would have been comical under less serious circumstances.

“Yes, sir!”

“Good, good.  These men of Israel have come to finally resolve this matter and relieve you of your lonely duty.”

He had been playing at soldier, Ammihud thought, studying Samuel.  “And now he does not want to stop,” he thought, considering Samuel’s disappointed expression.

Micah noted that Samuel’s hand sat upon the handle of a scimitar, an unusual choice of weapons in Israel.  More common in Egypt.  Micah hated Egyptians.  Yet there was no sign of the pagan race in the young man’s features.  Micah would keep an eye on him anyway.

Caleb was the first to dismount.  He hurried to the mouth of the cave and peered into the darkness.  “Are they all in there?” he quizzed Samuel.

“Yes sir,” Samuel replied slowly, looking to Mattan for a cue as to how much he should say before these strangers.

Nervously fingering his dagger, Caleb muttered, “I suppose we’d better get at it, then.”

Dismounting, Joseph said, “A moment, brother.  Remember, we decided to speak to them first, getting what information we can out of them.”

Caleb nodded his assent.  “Shall we speak with the elders, then?”

“I shall fetch them for you, my masters,” Mattan said.  But before he could reach the mouth of the cave, three white-haired but rough-looking men emerged from the darkness.

“Mattan,” one of them said, squinting against the sunlight, “what is this?  Who are they?”

“These are the men whose coming I have been promising.”  There was no deferential manner in Mattan’s tone now.  His voice and face took on the inscrutable look of a master trader, betraying nothing.  “They have been sent by Deborah.  They are to judge in her stead and bring an end to your… confinement.”

A second Heshonibite elder, shorter in stature than the first, snorted derisively and said, “’Bout time.”

“We would parley with you a moment,” Joseph said, stepping forward.  “Before meeting the rest of the village, we have a few questions.”

“Speak then,” said the first elder.  “We long to get out of the darkness and stench of that cave.  It is most unnatural for a man to live thus.”

Ammihud impatiently stepped before the smallest of the elders, someone he could almost look in the eye.  “What happened in your village?”

The elder, undaunted, pointed to Mattan.  “Has not that one told you our tale?”

“We wish to hear it from you.”

The elder sighed.  “One night, just before sunrise, we were each of us awakened by a clap of thunder.  We were startled to see our… our…”

“Terraphim,” the first elder finished.  “We were stunned to see our household gods had been suddenly destroyed.  We each ran from our houses.  In a fright, we abandoned our village, afraid it had been cursed by the gods we worshiped.”

“Then what?” Ammihud urged.

“We decided to head to Aphek to seek shelter and answers there.  Though after many days in this hole, I wish we’d have gone elsewhere.”

“It was there on the road, at first light, that we came upon this man,” the second elder said, giving Mattan a disparaging look.  “We let him sweet-talk us into coming here.”

Maaz held his tongue for the moment and made a signal to the other men.  They slowly moved to encircle the three elders.  This strategy was not lost on the silent elder, who looked around nervously.

Joseph gave Mattan a knowing look.

Mattan understood immediately Joseph’s thought.  “That is the essence of what happened, though it was later in the day, according to my recollection.  My masters know that I am not an early riser.”

“Why were you near Heshonib that morning?” Micah asked Mattan.

“To conduct business.  It is my habit to stop at the village on the way to Joppa to trade.”

These words were launched like sling stones by Micah; “You trade at Joppa?  With Philistines?”

Mattan paused a moment to frame his answer to Micah’s unstated accusation.  Many Israelites felt that to have any dealings at all with pagan peoples was something akin to treason and blasphemy.  Usually they dwelt in the interior of Israel – as Micah did – and not on the borders as Mattan did.

“I trade with those who have goods or coins and a mind to barter,” Mattan said flatly.  It was a rare moment of candor.

Maaz ignored this exchange, his attention fixed on the villagers.  “Why do you have idols in your homes in the first place?” Maaz demanded, his indignation flaring both his temper and his nostrils.  He had fought and killed too many Philistines to consider trading with them, but Mattan was not the object of this interrogation.  The Heshonbites were.

The first elder sighed.  “We are – were – of the tribe of Dan.  Our kinsman had your attitude and disowned us when first we took the gods into our homes.  Forced out, we made a new home for ourselves in that little valley and called it Heshonib, after the consort of Marduk.”

Everyone knew that Heshonib was located just north of the territory allotted to Dan.  And they knew that the city of Joppa lay within those borders.  There had been too much intermarriage between the Danites and the Philistines over the years.  On the face of it, the story was at least plausible.

“Even the name of your village is an act of idolatry” Maaz breathed.  He felt Micah’s hand on his arm, steadying his fury as Micah had done on occasions previous to this.

The silent elder eyed Maaz with an expression between wariness and fear.  His counterpart continued, “We meant no one any harm.  We believe in all the gods and give our worship to those who give us prosperity.  In this way, we were able to start a new life and are in the fourth generation.  We would like to return to our village, but if it is cursed, then we shall have been made homeless once again.”

Caleb spoke, and as they turned to look at him, all three elders became aware they had been encircled by these strangers and Samuel.  “None of us are of the tribe of Dan, so we cannot corroborate your story.  But do tell us – of what clan were you?”

“Shupham” replied the second elder, slowly pronouncing the word as if to make it sound right.

The men around the circle looked at one another.

“Shupham,” Caleb repeated.

The three elders looked at one another.

“Yes.  Shupham,” the elder repeated.

Reaching under his belt, Micah withdrew a small wineskin.  Smiling a predator’s smile, he offered it to the elder who spoke.  “You look like a man who has not had a proper drink in quite a while.  Here.”

The Heshonibite was taken aback by this offering, but greed overtook caution and he accepted it.  He tasted it hesitatingly, then, smiling, took a long draught.

The first elder jostled him and with a complaint about his selfishness, took a drink of his own.  “This is a fine wine.  Thank you.”

Micah bowed slightly.  “I am an amateur vintner.  Enjoy.”  To his comrades, Micah said, “Brothers, let us stand off a few paces and confer.”

When they had huddled a few steps away from the Heshonibites, Joseph said, “That was well-played, Micah.”

“Thanks,” Micah said.

“I wonder how you had the foresight to bring along a skin of wine, brother-in-law?” Maaz said, his eyebrows clenched in a suspicious look.

“I gave it away, didn’t I?” Micah retorted.

“Enough about the wine,” Ammihud said impatiently.  Are we agreed?  These men are guilty of idolatry and lying.  Shupham is a clan of Benjamin – Shuham is a clan of Dan.  Whoever these men are, they have never been men of Israel.”

Balek’s massive arms crossed on his chest.  “I say it’s time to pronounce judgment and do the deed.”

Joseph raised a hand to quiet the voices of assent.  “Hold on a moment.  Don’t you think we should give any who will a chance to turn to God and repent?  The LORD is gracious and kind – surely he will forgive idolatry and lying if they will turn to Him.”

Maaz turned his attention away from suspicions about his brother-in-law to respond to Joseph.  “How could you trust any sign of repentance?  These people are heathen swineherds.”

Micah was quick to agree.  “Yes, and besides that, the message from the LORD was very explicit – ‘All must die’ is what it said, wasn’t it?”

Samuel was confused.  “What message?  Who must die?”

Standing next to Samuel, Jezreel explained, “Pardon us, brother.  Through miraculous means, the LORD God Almighty left us a message in the village of these people.  It instructed us to kill them for their idolatry.  And I’m afraid Micah is right.  The message left no latitude for mercy.”

“I can tell you this,” Samuel offered, “having watched these people for several days.  They will scorn any offer of mercy.  They would rather cling to their idolatry than follow the LORD.  Why, just the other day, they put up such a fuss I had to fell a tree and bring it to them.”

“A whole tree?” Ammihud asked.  “What did they want that for?”

“I presumed firewood.”

“Have they been worshiping idols while they are here?” Mattan queried Samuel.

“Yes, the whole time, near as I can tell,”

“There – you see?” Maaz said, his eyes on Joseph.  “Pleas to the one true God when the blade is at their throat could hardly be good reason for showing these dogs mercy.”

Balek nodded.  “I agree.”

Caleb looked at the three elders finishing the last of Micah’s wine.  “How is it to be done, then?  We should kill these three without raising an alarm, then go inside and dispatch the rest as quickly as possible.”

“Agreed,” Ammihud said, his hand going to his dagger.

“Barek, Micah and I will take these three,” growled Maaz.  “Then we will all go inside.  Samuel will guard the entrance and take care of any who get away.”

The youth objected immediately.  “Let it not be so!  May the LORD judge me severely if I do not take up my arms in this holy act of vengeance!  I am a man of Israel and faithful!  I will…”

Mattan had heard such speeches from Samuel before.  He held out both hands to interrupt and silence him.  “Enough, Samuel.  You raise your voice and alarm those three.”  To the seven who came from Deborah he said, “Let me guard the entrance, my masters.  Alas, I am not a warrior and would only be in the way.”

Maaz’s eyes narrowed as he regarded Mattan.  “Fine.”

Caleb turned to Joseph and said, “I notice you are unarmed, brother.  May I loan you a weapon?”

Joseph cupped one hand in another and answered, “I already have all the weapons I need, surely as the LORD lives.  I will do my share.”

“Let us pray,” Jezreel said.  Each man lifted his face and hands toward heaven as Jezreel prayed, “LORD, give us strength this day to do all your will.  Give us wisdom to know it is right.”

The other eight men agreed.  Then, putting hand to weapon, they once more encircled the Heshonibite elders.

“We represent Deborah, judge over Israel, and we exercise her authority,” Ammihud intoned as Barek, Maaz and Micah readied their weapons.  “Do you wish to confess before we pronounce judgment?”

The silent elder bolted.

With a blur of motion, Joseph did something that none of these men of Israel had witnessed before.  He struck with his foot.  The Heshonibite was knocked backward by a sweeping kick that connected with this forehead.  Before any of them fully realized what was happening, Joseph dropped to one knee and dealt a second blow to the man’s head with the heel of his hand.  The Heshonib elder’s head slammed violently into the earth.

Maaz was the first to recover from surprise at Joseph’s melee.  But he hurried his blow and the metal-shod staff swung wide of the mark.  His intended target turned away from Maaz, attempting to break out of the circle, but he found Micah waiting, sword in hand.  He backpedaled just enough to avoid Micah’s slashing sword, but the dirt gave way beneath his feet, and he fell backward with a thud.

Turning his staff over his head in a whistling circle, Maaz dealt a deadly blow to the prone Heshonibite.  He crushed the man’s skull with a single, powerful downward stroke of the iron-shod end of his staff.

Barek’s long dagger was already in his hand and in an eyeblink was stuck in the folds of the second elder’s robe.  The man grunted with surprise, and attempted to push Barek away, but the much bigger man did not budge.  He held the dying man tightly so he could not pull himself away from Barek’s blade.  Blood came between the two men.

The elder felled by Joseph muttered an oath to the gods of Philistia and drew a dagger as he spun to his feet.

Samuel’s scimitar appeared in his hand and with it, he slashed at the man.  The curved blade cut deeply across the small of his back and loosened a gout of blood as the idol-worshipper fell face forward to the ground.

From not far away, the men heard a startled cry.  They looked up to see a boy standing in the entrance of the cave.

Eyes wide with terror, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the darkness.

 

Samuel shouted after the boy and was about to sprint after him when Mattan laid a lightly restraining hand across his arm.  “There is nowhere they can go.  You know this, Samuel.”

“But now they will be ready for us!” he protested.  “We cannot surprise and subdue them as easily as these,” he said, pointing to the three inert figures at their feet.

“Without surprise, we need strategy,” Maaz said.  “My concern is that they shall block the entrance.  Fighting in the corridor will be cramped – not at all to our advantage.”

“We shall alternate bowmen and swordsmen.  The bowmen shall fire into Heshonibites who may be in the way, then step aside to let the swordsman pass into the cavern,” Micah offered this stratagem, looking into each of their faces as they spoke.

Barek put his dagger into its sheath and replaced it with bow and arrow, which he hastily nocked.  “Let me be the first,” he spoke with his usual quiet intensity.  The tallest among them, Barek would have to stoop to enter the cave.

Maaz stepped into line behind him without saying a word.

Ammihud rushed into line behind Maaz and then put away his dagger.  Drawing his smallish bow and arrow, he readied himself to rush into the cavern.

Micah took his place behind Ammihud, his sword readied for the gory task.

Caleb drew an arrow and took a deep breath as he nocked it.  He took a place in the line behind Micah.

Joseph stopped Jezreel from taking the next spot in line.  He tipped his head toward Samuel.  “Let Samuel’s scimitar speak next.”

Samuel eagerly took his place behind Caleb.  His eyes flashed with the youthful excitement of combat, the heady eagerness that swordplay brings to a man.

“After you,” Joseph said with a bow.  Jezreel’s staff was not a ranged weapon, but it did have a longer reach than Joseph’s fists and feet, so he stood behind Samuel.

After they had assumed their places at the end of the line, Joseph instructed Mattan, “Draw your dagger, brother.  All the fish who escape this net are yours to hook.”

Mattan swallowed the dry knot in his throat.  “As you command, my master.”  The look of determination in his soft face gave Joseph no confidence he would perform his rearguard duty adequately.  It was then that Joseph decided to stay as near the cavern exit as possible.

Seeing that the line behind him was fully formed, Barek plunged into the mouth of the cavern.  His steps were guided by the torchlight issuing from within the cavern.  The big man’s normally large stride was moderated by the confines of the passage to the cavern, so it took him a little longer to speed inside than he would’ve liked.

Stepping inside the interior of the cavern, his training as a warrior took over.  Barek ignored the surroundings and focused on the most immediate threat.  The boy who’d witnessed their attack on the elders stood next to a man, explaining in earnest tones what he’d just seen.   Though forewarned, the man was still startled to see Barek’s giant form burst out of the corridor.  The bow in Barek’s hands was leveled at him and faster than the Heshonibite could react, Barek’s arrow flew.  But the arrow merely grazed his left arm.  Barek quickly shuffled aside to allow Maaz to enter.

With a shout, the man of Israel who’d fought with Judge Ehud surged into the cavern and chose the same man as his opponent.  The metal-shod staff swung down and the man’s skull exploded in a splash of gore.  The boy who’d attempted to raise the alarm fell down in fright.

Ammihud entered next, and where Barek had sidled left, he went to the right.  A young man some thirty paces away had risen from a mat and drawn his dagger.  Ammihud’s arrow flew and then bit into the teen’s thigh.  He fell to one knee, clutching at the wound which stained his robe a dark crimson.

Though with not quite the same intensity as Maaz, Micah’s roared an oath no less intimidating.  His sword struck down the nearest enemy; a woman who happened to be close to the entrance.

Rushing through the opening, Caleb followed Barek and moved to his left.  He’d decided long ago that if it came to battle, he wanted to be near the giant.  It seemed to him a safer place to be.  Aiming, he let his arrow fly at a man who was striding toward them, long dagger drawn.  His shot, however, was wide of the mark.  He heard a crack as the arrowhead harmlessly struck the ceiling of the cavern, well above and behind his target.

Samuel, however, was right behind him and he met Caleb’s onrushing Heshonibite head on.  The man expertly deflected the worst of Samuel’s blow, but the weight of the scimitar and the headstrong power behind it knocked the dagger from his grasp.

Thus disarmed, the man rushed at Samuel, hoping to wrestle the young man’s weapon away from him.   Samuel was too fast for him, however, and instead of grabbing his sword arm, the Heshonibite assailant’s last sight was the curved blade coming around and cutting his throat with a backhanded stroke.

When he ran into the room, Jezreel found the little informant lying on the dirt before him.  He swung wildly with his staff and smashed the child’s chest.

To his right, Jezreel saw an older boy rushing at him.  The whole scene slowed to a crawl in the prophet’s perceptions.  The world now included only him and the young man with the angry expression who was shouting and attacking him with a dagger.

Hours of practice took over.  Jezreel reacted reflexively and drew his staff back in time to deflect the knife and then shoulder the youth away from him.  His thrust parried, the young man found himself stumbling into the path of Joseph.  A blur, Joseph reached out and grabbed the youth, throwing him forcefully against the wall of the cavern.  Joseph knew at least a half-dozen ways to take the assailant out of the fight.  He had decided upon which one to use when something the size of a mountain smashed unexpectedly into the back of his head.  A mountain fell on him and blotted out the world.  He saw lights, then blackness and fell into the darkness.

Jezreel was alarmed to see Joseph felled by a sneaky swing of an iron pot.  Waiting not a moment, Jezreel breathed a wordless prayer and bore down on Joseph’s assailant.  The staff smashed against the youth’s back and drove him down to the ground.  The pot flew from his hand, landing harmlessly at Ammihud’s feet.

To his right, Barek saw a man advancing on him.  He answered the man’s stealthy approach with a menacing growl.  Thus discovered, the assailant decided the better of it and threw his knife rather than advance any further.  His aim was poor and Barek easily deflected the missile with his bow.  The blade clattered against the wall of the cave and fell to the ground.

On Barek’s right, Caleb quickly drew another arrow and shot the dagger-thrower.  This time his aim was true and the arrow took the young man in the shoulder.  He spun on the axis of the impact, falling down.

A villager threw down a small child he’d been holding and drew a long dagger.  He was large and scarred, obviously a man who’d seen some fighting.  Maaz spotted the threat and rushed to meet it.  With the longer reach of his staff he had an advantage and pressed it.  The staff met the man before he could close to strike with the dagger.  Maaz’s blow to his shoulder staggered the big man, but he shrugged off the pain and smiled at Maaz.

“The defiant dog!” Maaz thought, and his rage increased.  Maaz now saw and heard nothing but the enemy before him.  The blade switched hands as the idolater charged, but the attempt at deception did not avail him as Maaz sidestepped, burying one end of his staff in the ground.  The Heshonibite fighter tumbled over this immovable, unexpected obstacle.  Before he had a chance to rise from the dirt, Maaz whipped the iron-shod end of his staff down with implacable force.  Crashing on the back of his head, the deadly instrument bade the man to fall and rise no more.

Ammihud sidled as far to his right as the wall of the cave allowed, in order to get a better shot around Micah.  He saw someone getting to their feet and let the arrow fly in that direction.  It struck home in the back of the retreating person and knocked them down.  A part of Ammihud’s mind may have noted that he did not know the age or gender of his target, but it was a part that was very far from his consciousness.  He was merely aware that the bow was in his hands, the arrows in his quiver, and that various targets presented themselves.

Micah fell upon a Heshobite who was struggling to free a knife from the loose folds of his robe.  It tore free when Micah’s sword cut deeply across his chest, but fell from the man’s limp fingers as he hit the ground.

Someone grabbed the fallen knife and used it to stab Micah.  He struck with the swiftness of a snake and Micah was bitten, the blade striking his right shoulder just beside the leather armor he wore.

Emboldened by this youth’s success, another rushed forward to try to wrest Micah’s sword from his grasp.  A rage of blood now clouded the vision of the soldier of God and he backhanded the boy with his free hand, sending him sprawling backward.

Ammihud saw that Micah was being assailed on both sides.  The arrow was in the bow and away before he judged whether or not his comrade in arms needed assistance.  The arrow appeared again in a Heshonibite’s right hip.  The blow of the weapon caused his leg to fold beneath him and the villager dropped to the cavern floor.

Micah’s remaining opponent had drawn blood.  Eager for more, he stabbed again at Micah, but the Israelite parried the attack with his sword.  Wheeling upon his opponent in the same motion, Micah’s sword whistled through the air until it cut a line across the young man’s chest.  His face bore a startled expression but no sound came from his lips.  The knife fell from his hands.  The villager dropped to his knees and then to the floor, making gurgling sounds all the while.

Sighting down his arrow, Caleb let fly at someone rising from a mat near the wall to his left.  The arrow struck the cave wall above the person, but made such a clatter they let out a cry and fell forward, their hands covering their hooded head.

Staggering under a sudden weight of flailing youth on his back, Samuel twisted forcefully to dislodge his small attacker.  He did not hesitate to cleave the small form that fell on the ground before him.  Such was his certainty that the LORD’s will must be carried out.

Barek strode deeper into the semidarkness of the cavern.  Loosing his sword at the nearest villager, Barek slashed across his attacker at chest height.  The edge bit into his opponent’s left shoulder.  While the wound itself was not bad, the strength behind the strike drove the thin young man into the wall of the cave, where he slid to the floor, whimpering and grasping at the wound with his right hand.

Another stroke finished the job.

His opponent thus dispatched, Barek turned and for the first time, assessed their surroundings.  The cavern was dimly lit by torches, lamps and cooking fires, but he could see that it was a sizeable place.  The shadowed roof was supported by a massive column of stone in the center.  What might be other passages leading further into the earth were open on the wall opposite him.  There was something leaning against the pillar…Barek peered at it, indredulous.

Panic replaced surprise among the villagers as they realized that these intruders were taking out their defenders with deadly efficacy.  Ammihud’s arrow missed one of these frightened women, but it was effective at increasing her terror.  She clutched at an awestruck child and drug him away from the melee.

Someone else picked up the pot that had been wielded so effectively against Joseph and came at Ammihud from the left, swinging his improvised but effective weapon.  The pot struck Ammihud’s left shoulder with sufficient force that he dropped his bow and staggered away.  Fortunately, the cave wall was there to support him and the prophet stayed on his feet.

That particular cooking implement had caused quite enough trouble, Jezreel decided.  He intended to hurdle both Joseph and his unconscious assailant and then strike this new pot-wielding punk with his staff.  The psalmist was not exactly lithe, however, and caught his toes on the robe of the fallen villager.  Seconds after he sprawled on the ground, Jezreel’s mind noted the musical tone the pot made as it struck something solid and then his world went black.

A village man near the pillar of stone in the center of the cavern left something he’d been working on and rushed at Maaz.  The mallet in his right hand swung with great force, but the warrior of God easily parried the swing and directed the blow harmlessly away.

Caleb’s heart rose to his throat as he watched the miserable melee unfold on the other side of the cavern.  Joseph was gone, and Ammihud and Jezreel were being dealt with by a young man armed only with a pot!  Caleb vowed that this insult would be met with a greater force.  He nocked an arrow and shot, but the shaft buried itself in the ground away from the Heshonibite.

Samuel charged at the next opponent he saw, a man who was trying to shield himself with a woman and child.  The task they were commanded to do made no allowance for pity, so Samuel swung his scimitar.  The deadly curved blade tore mother and child from the grasp of the cowardly man, and he fell backward, scrambling to avoid the Israelite’s next attack.

Wearing a savage grin, the young man wielding the cooking pot turned back to Ammihud.  “The goddess gives me victory, though I am armed only with this!” he taunted, brandishing the pot.

To his credit, Ammihud did not flinch.  He dropped his bow and withdrew his dagger.  “Let us see, boy, whose god shall triumph this day!”

Caleb’s second arrow found a more worthy mark, burying itself in between the pot-wielder’s shoulder blades.  He dropped the pot, then fell face forward before Ammihud.

“I guess that settles it, then,” Ammihud said.

Idol Smashers – Part Six

dreamer

“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 – Heshonib

(Previously, in Idol Smashers: As these heroes of Israel have begun their mission, they were lead to the remote village Heshonib where they found a miraculous message from God demanding all the villagers be killed for their idolatry.)

The countenance of the men all took on a grim aspect as the significance of the message hit them.

“The LORD has spoken,” Maaz said firmly.

“Now wait a moment,” Ammihud cautioned.  “Wait a moment.  You’re sure these words were not carved by the hand of man… ?”

Barek and Jezreel exchanged looks.  “Definitely.  No instrument wielded by a man burns brick,” Jezreel responded.

Mattan’s face was ashen.  He busied himself with the teraphim, and then spoke suddenly.  “These are burst from within!  What craft could accomplish this destruction of wooden, clay, stone and metal idols?  All destroyed from within, but all of them are made of different materials.  My masters, this was a supernatural act!”

Taking the idol from Mattan, Micah turned it over and looked at the bottom.  His mouth set in a line, he showed it to Maaz.

“That’s the same mark!” Maaz exclaimed.

“What?  What mark?” Caleb queried.

Micah handed the idol to Caleb and pointed out the figure carved on the base.  “This mark.  It was carved on the base of the Asherah pole at the top of the hill.”  As Caleb examined the mark for himself, Micah turned all the idols over.  “Underneath all these idols – on the base – a marking is inscribed.  It looked to me like a man dancing.”

“That is a trader’s mark,” Caleb said.  “It is meant to identify the craftsman so that others will buy his wares.  Should we find out who this mark identifies, we will find the supplier of these idols.”

“To what end?” Maaz demanded curtly.  “It matters not how they came to be here.  The message is unequivocal.  We must obey the LORD and end the lives of these foul idolaters!”  He smashed his iron-shod goad on the ground to punctuate his point.

Ammihud stepped forward, not intimidated.  “A moment, brother.  As you cannot replace a life once it is taken.  We must be certain.”  He held out his hand to Caleb and, receiving the idol, looked carefully at the base.  He set it down thoughtfully and took time to look at  the entire circle of words around them.

Finally, he spoke.  “I believe we must deal with the Heshonibites as instructed.”

“Yes,” Maaz seconded.

“BUT,” Ammihud continued.  “I do not believe our mission ends there.  There are villages like this all over Israel.  We must admit it.  Why would the LORD single out this one?”

“As a warning to all idolaters,” Maaz quickly explained.

“Yes, that,” Ammihud agreed, but began pacing and thinking aloud.  “But more than that.  There was something else going on here.  What if the LORD exposed this village in this way to give us a warning?  We must follow all trails until we understand WHY this happened.”

Joseph moved to stand next to Ammihud.  “What he lacks in stature, our brother makes up for with insight.”  Joseph smiled down at Ammihud.  “I agree.  My dreams have been troubled of late.  Just two nights ago I saw a pile of broken idols.  The LORD told me to sweep them away, for beneath them I would find something more evil at work.”

“What happened?” Mattan asked.  “What did you find?”

“I awoke before I could sweep them away.”

Maaz snorted.  “Prophets and their dreams.  Well, what of it?  We can destroy this place, then the pagans who lived here, THEN go chasing idol-makers.  First things need doing first, my father always said.”

“All right, all right,” Ammihud said.  He walked over and swept the idols off the side of the well and dropped the one he was holding beside them.  “I agree.  But we all must be agreement on this, for blood will be on our hands.  If it is the LORD’s will, then I shall take up vengeful arms beside you.”  He held up his two short-fingered hands.  “But I want no innocent blood on these hands.”

“Nor do I,” Joseph said, one prophet agreeing with the other.  “But I am fully convinced.  They must die.  All of them.”

Barek picked up a handful of dirt and then dropped it on the ruined idols at their feet.  “Let’s bury them, then uncover the whole truth.”

“You can count on me,” Caleb said, stepping forward.

“It’s awful work, but the Lord’s will must be done,” Jezreel said, nodding.

Micah simply said, “I agree,” and put his hand on his sword.

“Very well then,” Maaz said soberly.  “Let’s destroy this village and then the villagers.”

“But we’re freeing the animals,” Joseph said.  “They are innocent beasts.  Let the Lord do with them as He wills.  Set them free.”

“All of them?” Mattan said, suddenly joining the conversation.’  “There’s a great deal of…  a tithe could be…”  Seeing the determined looks on the faces around him, he simply sat down on the well and muttered, “My masters know best.”

“Seems we ought to get started,” Micah said, an eye on the sky.  “It’ll be dark soon enough.”

Ammihud turned to Mattan.  “How far away is the secret cave in which you’re holding the Heshonibites?”

“Oh, master, it is on the other side of the city.  We should not expect to have all this done before sundown,” Mattan replied, his eyes darting to each face.  “I would not advise going there in the evening.  The people of Aphek will become suspicious if we go out again after dark.  Our secrecy will be lost, I fear.”

“We should not delay in obeying the will of the LORD,” Maaz protested.

“Really,” Ammihud said, crossing his arms.  “You are a tiresome fellow.  I agree with Mattan.  You remember how Deborah herself pledged us to secrecy, only this morning?  Would you risk violating that pledge?”

Maaz was about to answer when Micah put a hand on his arm.  “Besides, we can’t risk any of them escaping into the night.  Remember the message – ‘all must be killed’.”

When Micah did not wither under the glare of his brother-in-law, Maaz conceded, “Very well.  How I wish Deborah had left me in charge!”

“One more thing, if I may – without sounding impudent?” Mattan asked quietly.

“Yes – what?” Ammihud asked.

“You may wish to question the villagers before putting them to the sword.  Something may be gained from their words that helps your subsequent investigations.”

“You can’t trust the word of idolaters,” Caleb objected.

“Of course not, my master.  But… as there is some truth in every lie, we can perhaps gain some morsels of truth from them.”

There seemed to be general agreement that Mattan spoke wisely.

“Let’s burn this place and cleanse the earth on which it stands,” Maaz said slowly.

 

They rode out of Heshonib just after sunset, seven figures silhouetted against the burning village.

Upon their return to the home of Mattan, the men washed in silence.  The savory smells of food cooking did nothing to lift their spirits.  They encircled the room and standing, lifted their faces, and offered prayers of thanksgiving to God.

After they were all seated on mats on the floor, Mattan’s servant set forth the supper he had prepared.  The new day had begun at sunset, but it was not welcomed during the meal as was customary.  There was no conversation that included all of them.  Instead, scattered snatches of talk in low voices was the only sound accompanying their eating.

Mattan was mostly silent and subdued.  This was quite out of character, but he was taking his cue from the men Deborah had sent him.

For their part, the seven were both introspective and weary.  The day had begun with the promise of worship and feasting.  It had taken many unexpected turns since then, and to a man, they felt as if it had been a long journey.

One by one, they thanked and blessed their host, then took their belongings to the roof and lay down to sleep.

 

Joseph’s sleep was troubled.  Deborah was before him, angrily remonstrating him.  “Why did the LORD destroy those idols?” she demanded, her voice stretched thin to keep from shouting outright.  “That was a miraculous sign to point to something, but what?!”  Joseph was not given time to answer.  He felt panicked, his throat constricted.  Why was she angry with him?  How had he failed her?  How could he have done better?  “Answer me!” Deborah cried.  “Tell me the answer!”

Awaking with a start, Joseph sat up.  Barek alone was still awake.  He nodded at Joseph, a sympathetic look on his face.

Without a sound, Joseph padded downstairs and through Mattan’s home into the courtyard.  The dream had disturbed him – deeply.  He needed to pray and think before attempting to sleep again.

 

For his part, Barek found sleep elusive.  He was weary, but his mind was troubled by what the upcoming day would bring.  The notion of destroying an entire village was… well, it was something his ancestors had done when they took possession of the Promised Land, but those were tales of people long gone.  The deed seemed difficult to contemplate when it would be his sword, his hand.  Surely there would be women.  Children.  Perhaps babies.  Part of him understood the reason for the LORD’s command, but another part was repulsed by it.

“There must be another way,” Barek mused.  It was half thought and half prayer.  Barek lifted his eyes to the starlit horizon, searching for an answer.

His thoughts were interrupted by a noise behind him.  Joseph had awakened.  His sleep had apparently been uneasy.

Not wanting to awaken the others, Barek merely nodded at Joseph, thinking, I share your disturbance, brother.

He watched Joseph step downstairs with a grace that was something a man had to learn and then practice.  Barek thought about Joseph for a moment.  A prophet, certainly but he had not always been a holy man.

Barek returned his gaze and thoughts to the stars.

 

Ammihud turned over.  He noted with some irritation that the cool night air would be more tolerable in his own home.  Then he dismissed the complaint as unworthy of a prophet on a mission from God.  After some moments of silent prayer, sleep finally claimed him.

He was surprised to be back at the Tabernacle.  Or what was left of it.  An old man wailed in grief among the ashes of what had been the Tent of Meeting.

Ammihud was stunned to see it destroyed.  Tears began to stream down his own face as he mourned the loss of Israel’s most sacred site.  “How has it come to this?” he wondered, both aggrieved and enraged.

The old man stood suddenly, and started walking backwards around the Tabernacle.  As he walked, backwards, the ashes turned to flame and the flame raced up the sides of the Tent itself and it’s fabric outer wall, restoring both!  The man paced around the Tabernacle to the rising and setting of five suns!

With a sharp breath, Ammihud was awake.  The LORD spoke to him more often in portents and in the words of the scrolls than in dreams, but there was no doubt in Ammihud’s mind that this startling dream was a revelation from Yahweh!

The stiffness of sleep slowed his motions, but Ammihud turned over.  He was startled to see Micah looking at him!  A few cubits away, the man’s eyes stared at him vacantly.  What was going on here?  “Am I still dreaming?” Ammihud wondered.

Then he looked up and saw that Maaz was sitting up.  Seated on the other side of Micah, Maaz must have noted the look of surprise on Ammihud’s face.

“Sleeps with his eyes open,” Maaz whispered.  “My sister says you get used to it.”

Troubled by the dream, Ammihud was in no mood to converse about Micah’s sleeping habits.  He rolled back on his side, facing away from Maaz and Micah’s sleep-gaze.  As he turned, Ammihud saw Barek was also sitting up, but his head bowed forward.

“What have I got myself into?” he wondered, and not for the last time.

 

Caleb would have preferred to dream about the livestock they’d released before destroying Heshonib.  About all of them herding themselves into his pen at the seller’s market.  Instead, the animal in his dream was some kind of cat, over-sized and ferocious.  It’s giant, black paw lashed out of the darkness.  Caleb ducked, but he was not the intended target.  Surprisingly, the animal was slashing the Tent of Meeting.  The Tabernacle was being torn to shreds!

When he reached out to fend off the blows, putting himself in harm’s way, Caleb awoke.  He was on his back, looking at the stars.  The sounds of the other men sleeping soothed him and he dismissed the dream, going back to sleep.

 

The seven were restless and woke Mattan before dawn.  He was not easily roused, but when he realized who it was that stood around him, Mattan hoisted his ample frame off the mat.

“Yes, my masters,” he said with a yawn.  “Let me see that water is brought, and some food.”

He stumbled out of the room and into the courtyard.

Caleb yawned and stretched.  “Brothers, you should have left Mattan and I to rest at least until sunrise.  This is hardly civil treatment.”

Maaz merely grunted and began pacing.

“I could wait no longer,” Micah commented, but was unable to stifle a yawn of his own.

“My sleep was broken by a dream – a nightmarish portent,” Joseph said, seeking each man’s eye.  “I dreamed that Deborah was rebuking me for not having investigated this matter fully.  There is more to this than what has happened in Heshonib.  The destruction of those idols was meant by the LORD to alert us to something.  An even greater evil, whose path merely crossed at Heshonib.”

“I can tell you where that evil will descend and when,” Ammihud added, hurriedly.

“What is this…” Maaz said derisively, “dueling prophets?”

Joseph waved him off and spoke to Ammihud.  “What did you see, brother?”

Sparing a withering glance at Maaz, Ammihud answered, “I saw the Tabernacle as a smoldering ruin.  An old man – perhaps the High Priest Ulla – wept at its destruction.  Then he stood and walked backward as the Tent was restored.  He walked backward as the sun rose and set five times.”

“The Tabernacle is in danger, and the danger will fall before the next Sabbath,” Joseph said, thinking aloud.  “This is a warning to us.  We must resolve this mystery quickly to see the Tabernacle spared.”

“My interpretation exactly,” Ammihud said, nodding.

“The Tabernacle?” Maaz cried, stepping to the two prophets.  “Who would dare raise a hand against the sanctuary, our beloved Tent of Meeting?!”

Ammihud looked sheepish.  “The hand of the arsonists was not revealed in my dream.”

“Nor in mine,” Joseph seconded.

“Say,” Caleb interjected.  “I had a dream too.  There was a… giant cat.”

“Cat?” Micah interrupted, his eyes narrowing.  “A cat, you say?”

Caleb was taken aback by this kind of attention.  “Um.  Yes.  I guess so.  I don’t remember much, I was, uh, I was sleeping at the time.”

Joseph turned and, stepping to the other side of the smaller man, put his hand on his shoulder.  “And what did this giant cat do?”

Caleb considered Joseph for a moment, then seemed reassured and continued, “It… lashed out with it’s claws and tore the Tabernacle to shreds.”

“Ha!” Ammihud exclaimed and slapped Maaz in the chest with the back of his hand.  “See there?  The Tabernacle, I tell you!

Maaz was about to answer when Barek, who was standing by the door, said, “Brothers, let us discuss this at another time.”

No one spoke as Mattan entered.  He was suddenly conscious of the silence and seven pairs of eyes on him.  He was at a loss to understand why.

“Pardon the delay.  My boy is… unaccustomed to service this time of the morning…” he offered, by way of explanation for the delay.

Six of the men took their seats.

Joseph said, “It is of no consequence, Mattan.  This day holds a difficult task before us and we would have it over with.  We wait at your leisure.”  With that, he turned and sat down, regarding Barek with a curious look.  What had prompted him to keep secrets from Mattan?  Joseph vowed he would find out later.

Idol Smashers – Part Three

Israel

“Idol Smashers” is a work of fiction set in the biblical era of the Judges.  Apart from persons and places 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 – Shiloh

(Previously, in Idol Smashers 1 and 2: Deborah, Judge over Israel, has introduced her seven champions chosen by drawing lots, yet foreseen by her.  Now they will learn what the Lord wants of them.)

“Very good” Deborah said,  “You are all aware that I am in my thirty-seventh year of judging over Israel.”  She sighed.  “There are many who say I have overstayed my welcome.  That my arm grows short, my grip weakens.  The death of Barak four years ago has added to these rumors, given false courage to my critics.”

Taking a moment to look at each of the men in the council circle, Deborah smiled at a private thought.  It is a smile utterly without mirth and Jezreel felt a chill.  “I see from the half-concealed looks on your faces you have heard these slanders too.  I tell you – the Holy One is still with me.  I am still HIS judge over His people.”

Reaching for something behind her, Deborah showed the council a map that had been hand-tooled into an animal skin mounted on a frame.  She set it down in the middle of the circle so all could see it.

“Heshonib is a frontier village west of Aphek,” she said, pointing at an unnamed spot on the map.  The place is evidently just inland of the Great Sea, very near the Philistine city of Joppa.  It is an unremarkable village, a kind of melting-place where the border between Israel and Philistia blurs.  It would still be an unremarkable, unnoticed eyesore except for recent events that I shall now relate to you.”

Deborah paused and sat back.  Taking a sip from her cup, she continued, “These fools put Philistine idols in their homes and an Asherah pole on a hilltop overlooking them.  Where these idols came from, who is responsible for their being there, is knowledge no one is willing to admit having.  Just six days ago, something happened in this village, home to about sixty souls. Their home idols, their teraphim, burst open, burned and melted.  The Asherah pole caught ablaze.  All this happened in an instant.  The people fled, superstitiously believing that the gods of Philistia were expressing anger at them.  I believe the One True God has exposed their sin in this miraculous way, but more needs to be known before my judgment can be rendered.”

A slender index finger was raised and pointed around the circle.  “That is why I have called for men from the assembly, men whom the LORD has chosen.  You will go to Heshonib for me.  You will find out all you can, discern the LORD’s will, and, if necessary, act accordingly.”

Reaching behind herself again, Deborah handed Ammihud a leather scroll that bore her seal, the palm tree insignia indented in the clay.  “Here is your authorization, should any elders challenge you.  Bear this document as secretly as possible, however.  Reveal it only when you have exhausted all other options.  It is best for all that my hand in this matter be concealed until all is known and my judgment rendered.”

With a conspiratorial look, Deborah continued, “I chose this moment and this means of summons.  The elders will be occupied with the Yom Hakkippurim and the Feast of Tabernacles.  You may even be able to resolve the thing before the Feast is over.  This timing allows you to act and not the elders over you.  Had I summoned them to a council in the usual manner, many would know and be alerted to this incident.  Holding council with the elders of Israel is like telling secrets to the wind – what is said here is soon borne aloft for all to know.  You men of Israel have sworn yourselves to secrecy and I trust you.”

Jezreel felt a determination come over him, such as he had never felt before.  He resolved to serve the LORD and Deborah, his appointed Judge.  But still, her remarks about the elders were somehow disconcerting.  The inexperienced youth was idealistic, unaccustomed to the notion that elders could be self-serving in their leadership.

As if sensing the men’s mixed emotions, Deborah immediately added, “I can tell what some of you have questions.  Perhaps you are wondering, ‘What of the villagers of Heshonib?  What has kept them from telling this fearful tale and spreading this news all over Israel?’  Thanks to the Almighty for this gift – my man in Aphek saw the potential for trouble and has kept the Heshonibites in a remote place.  He has sheltered and fed them and told them that I myself am coming to see them about this incident.  However, if I leave Shiloh during the feast, suspicious elders will send men to spy where I have gone.  I remain to keep their attention on the festival.

“As for the Heshonibites, food and promises will placate them only so long.  That is another reason why haste must be made.  I have prepared a caravan: it is ready for you to depart this instant.  To all who ask, you are travelers bound for Joppa.  Traders in horse flesh or whatever seems best to you.  Of course, you are not bound for Joppa.  Stop instead at Aphek.”  Deborah pointed to another dot on the map, this one labeled as “Aphek.”  It is further inland from Joppa, more or less due east of it.

“In Aphek, seek out my man Mattan, who awaits you at the city gates.  Show him only the scroll and my seal, but not its contents.  The seal alone is sufficient to assure him that it is I who have sent you.  He will assist you in your investigations into this matter.”

The man called Micah objected, “But what about my family?  They have traveled with me here to Shiloh.  What will become of them when I leave?”

Deborah held up her open palm to silence him.  “I will see to all.  They will be under my protection and thereby under the wing of Adonai Himself.  Do not worry about a thing.”

With surprising force of personality, Deborah said intently, “My friends.  This is an opportunity for me to demonstrate to Israel that the Lord is truly with me; that His Spirit makes my hand strong as ever to judge over Israel.  If I am able to tell the elders how I have solved this miraculous mystery even as I tell them it has occurred, this will restore some of my stature in their eyes.  We all know how our people are quick to leave the Lord our God and seek after false gods, how they fall away when there is no strong Judge in Israel.  Do not do this for my sake, but for the people; to defend them from their own worst nature.”  Gauging each man’s resolve by the look in his eyes, Deborah concluded, “Have you any questions?”

This day has already held many surprises.  The stunning effect of Deborah’s words and their vows to secrecy seem to bind the men’s tongues.  None uttered a word.

Standing, Deborah indicated that they should rise too.  “Let us pray for your success – for wisdom from the Almighty.”

Each one, tentatively at first, but with growing intensity raised his voice in prayer.  Each offered different words, but hearts were attuned to the Lord and to one another.  Deborah began the recitation of the Shema and the seven joined their voices with hers.  “Go in haste but go safely,” she said and concluded with a blessing.

Idol Smashers

“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.

Installment One – Worship Delayed

cohen

Day  One – Shiloh

No matter how many times he attended the Day of Atonement sacrifice at the tabernacle, Jezreel still found himself humbled by the experience.  At dawn on the tenth day of Tishri, the seventh month of the year, the high priest personally selected the bullock, sheep and goat for sacrifice and the scapegoat to be released into the wilderness.  He then withdrew to bathe and don his ceremonial garments.  Emerging from his tent, the high priest Ulla seemed to take on a supernatural glow as the morning light glinted off his ceremonial headdress and breastplate.  Jezreel felt the glory of the LORD radiate from within the twelve stones on the breastplate Ulla wore.

Surely the LORD Himself was powerfully present in this moment.  He was at hand to forgive the sins of his people, restoring them to Him.

The men of Israel, including Jezreel ben Ebed, moved closer. They were eager to see the sacrifices, to hear the words and be comforted in knowing that Israel was once more firmly in the hand of their God.

But on this Day of Atonement, this Yom Hakkipurim, the traditional words, the familiar words, were not spoken by Ulla.  Instead, expressions of surprise broke upon the faces of the worshipers as Ulla began, “Men of Israel, children of Abraham, heirs of Isaac, descendants of Jacob – before we begin this sacred moment, before the sacrifices, I have been prevailed upon to seek the LORD and ask Him to reveal seven of you whom He has chosen for a special act of service.”

Some were immediately indignant and cried out angrily, “What is this?  Is today not Yom Hakkippurim?  Why do you delay this most important moment?  Who orders such a thing to be done?”

Not bothering to hide the disdain in his voice, Ulla merely said, “The Judge over Israel…Deborah.”  It was no secret that Ulla believed Deborah had outlasted her jurisdiction in the time since Barak’s death.  Many gossiped about the arguments fought between Ulla and Deborah.  There was speculation that Ulla’s motive was more than the usual prejudice against women; it was his desire was to extend his own authority over the tribes of Israel.

An undercurrent of murmuring and growling conversations arose around Jezreel.  Ulla silenced them with a wave of his hands over his head.

“Deborah’s servants walk among you now with baskets filled with clay tokens.  Let all true-hearted men of Israel draw one token from the basket without looking.  Let all those who draw forth a white token hold it over his head.”

This strange request produced a new round of complaints and arguments, but Ulla only glowered in the direction of Deborah’s tent.  As a woman, she was not allowed to attend the sacrifices herself, but stood beside her tent, staying at a respectable distance.  The banner flapping above her tent depicted a palm tree, her symbol.  This standard identified the place where the Judge over all Israel currently resided.

Contrary to the high priest’s command, some men refused to draw a chit or even to touch the basket.  Their faces betrayed outrage at this break from tradition. They folded their arms across their chests to make their defiance even more clear.

Seeing some of his elders act this way, Jezreel hesitated when a servant approached, holding the basket high.  A look passed between them and the servant understood that Jezreel also refused to draw.  He moved away, holding out the basket to other men who did draw from it.  Jezreel instantly regretted his indecision, even though it seemed to him that he’d hesitated only for a split-second; the speed at which thoughts fly between hurried heartbeats.

Ulla raised his hand to indicate recognition of the first, second, third and fourth men to raise a white token over their heads.  As the servants continued to distribute the chits to all who would take one, Ulla motioned these four men to come to him.

Some minutes passed as the servants worked through the crowd of men.  A fifth hand was raised, bearing a white chit.  This man too was beckoned to Ulla’s side.  Nearly all of the men had been offered a chance to draw a clay token when the sixth hand went up.

Minutes later, the servants made their way to the front, bearing their baskets.  One of them conferred with Ulla in whispers.

Anger rising in his voice, Ulla shouted, “I have not made myself clear.  The sacrifice will NOT proceed until seven men have been chosen in this fashion.  Refusal to draw is NOT an option!”

Jezreel only half-heard Ulla remonstrating them as “stiff-necked fools, reeking of their own stubbornness” as he stepped forward.  Smitten by his earlier missed opportunity, Jezreel was resolved to do the right thing.  He shouldered his way past the men ahead of him and said, “I will draw.”

Chagrined by the interruption, Ulla fixed him with a look.  Speaking with clear irony he said, “At last, here is a true son of Israel.  One who knows how to obey the leadership of the LORD’s people.”

With a hurried wave of his hand, Ulla gestured one of Deborah’s servants forward.  The man stepped up and held the basket high enough to prevent Jezreel from looking within.

Drawing in a breath, Jezreel reached inside the basket and took the first token he touched.  Withdrawing it, he looked down to the palm of his right hand.  He held a clay token that had been painted white and bore the imprint of the palm tree.  Tomer Deborah.  The emblem of the palm tree under which she had judged Israel for more than a generation.

Jezreel had been chosen!  He raised the white token aloft in a gesture of triumph.  With a cry, the men of Israel rejoiced.

Ulla sullied the moment by angrily grabbing the baskets from the servants and throwing both the baskets and their tokens high into the air.  The small clay tokens scattered over the assembly.

“The LORD has spoken!” Ulla shouted.  “Let these men be removed to the tent of Deborah and may the LORD Almighty give strength to their right arms!”

The chief of Deborah’s servants, thus relieved of his basket, moved to Jezreel’s side and spoke softly to him.  “Man of God, please accompany me,” he said.  Repeating this to all those who bore the white tokens, the servant lead the group away from the worshippers.

A sudden pain of regret shadowed Jezreel’s heart as behind him Ulla intoned, “Let the faithful of Israel gather.  Our bodies having been cleansed, let us now be cleansed in our hearts.”   With these tradition-laden words the Day of Atonement ceremony began.  Jezreel realized that though the cleansing would include him, he would not, for the first of many years, not be a witness to the Yom Hakkipurim.