It's a long, hard journey, and it's so tempting to give up at so many points.
First is at Besor Ravine, where some of the men—perhaps the ones that were willing to commit mutiny—are too exhausted to go further. David doesn't blame them, he can't, it's been a few very emotionally exhausted days, and so that's where he leaves two hundred men behind.
The loss of numbers make him balk, but it leaves quickly. God has sent them, so God will deliver them the victory.
A few days later, Eleazar says, "Bossman, look," and points out David's window, and David looks just in time to see a figure collapse on the ground.
"Stop," David says, and repeats the order over the radio. "Stop, everyone stop, somebody just collapsed in the field. We need to go get—whoever it is."
He climbs out of the truck, but some of his men are already way ahead of him, and by the time he gets to the person—a very sickly looking man—he's already being examined and fed and watered.
David, unable to do anything else, kneels by the man's head. The man is barely conscious. "Hey there," he says quietly. "You're kinda in rough shape, hey?"
The man coughs. "'s been three days 'n nights since 've eaten 'r drank 'nything. 'm tired. 'n hungry."
"I get that," David says, "but I need you to eat and drink a bit and answer a few questions for me before you get some rest, okay?"
The man tilts his head, barely, and David takes it as a nod. "Where did you come from?"
"Was with th' Amal'kites," the man says, and David is painfully aware of his heart, "but they went on withou' me 'cause I got s-sick. Three days ago. We'd done a lotta raidin'—the Kerethites and some a Judah's territory 'nd—some in Caleb, too."
"Anything else?"
The man closes his eyes. "We burned Ziklag."
God, David thinks, God, because this is God who brought them to this man, who's given them the means by which to revive him and give them hope at the same time and his mind is a mantra repeating thank you thank you thank you as he asks, "Can you take me to them?"
It's a long shot—the man is sick, and who's to say that they'd disclosed their travelling plans before they left him?—but the man says, a little stronger, "Swear t' me in th' name of God that you won't kill me or hand me over, and 'll take you right to 'em."
David's blood is roaring in his hears as he says, "I swear."
The man smiles.
-
They reach the Amalekite raiding party by dusk. David outlines the plan quietly over the radio as they get into place, eyes locked on the party happening just beneath them as their enemies revel in their plunder. "God is with us," he says. "God is with us, and he has delivered the Amalekites into our hands. I don't know how long this fight will be, and it might not be easy, but rest assured of our victory. It's a guarantee."
A low rumble sounds, and David smiles.
"Benaiah, if you would, please," he says into the radio, and he can hear Benaiah's smirk in response.
"It would be my honour, bossman," he says, and the low rumble turns into a battle cry.
-
They fight until the evening of the next day. David thinks he could probably go the rest of his life without fighting, and he's sure he's not the only one, even though he knows that the pledge is not realistic. He's bloody and sore and weary and dirty but it doesn't matter because God is with them and he never left and the proof is right before him and crashing into him, Abigail and Ahinoam crying as they hug him and he cries, too.
He's relieved. So unbelievably relieved.
They don't get all of the Amalekites, about four hundred or so escape according to the men on point, but David lets them go. They recover everything that had been taken—none of it is gone or missing—and there's almost a spot of trouble when the ones that had been left behind at the Besor Ravine rejoin them. Some of his men seem to think that, because they did not join in on the fight, they do not deserve their share of the plunder, that they deserve to be sent away, but he puts that quickly to rest.
"We can't pick and chose what we do with what God's given us," he says. "He protected us and handed over the forces that came against us—it wasn't any of our own effort. Everybody will share alike."
If there's any more grumbling after that, he doesn't hear of it.
They go back to Ziklag when everything is accounted for and settled down, setting up a tent city around the ashes of their small town. David takes care to distribute the plunder of the Amalekites with the people who'd sheltered him when he was on the run, Jael and Abiathar's family and the family that his parents stay with in Moab, among others—as well as his friends in the government. "I'm sending you a present," he tells them as he calls each of them individually, and when they ask what it is he refuses to give them more than, "It's courtesy of our good friends from Amalek."
Abigail smiles at him as he makes call after call. As he watches her his smile can't help but widen in return, and he once again thinks of her in a way that he has never thought of Michal. He thinks, I love you.
When he is finished with the phone calls, Abigail says, "What now, husband?", leaning against the doorpost with her arms crossed and a small smile still playing on her face. David puts the phone down before he gets up and crosses the room to her, gathering her in his arms and kissing her on the nose.
"I can think of a few things," he says, and Abigail laughs before she kisses him properly.
-
David doesn't think he's seen his men this relaxed before. There's still a sense of a threat hovering in the air—there will always be a threat—but there is laughter and music and relief. Families are clustered with other families, and even though the children may stray and play the adults stay close to their spouses. Abigail and Ahinoam are here, but David is still missing one— Michal, whom he learned that Saul had decided to give away to another man, like declaring David his enemy was enough to make the ceremony and paperwork null and void. He'll have to work on getting her back, too, but right now is the time for celebration and relaxation, and as David looks out over his men and he sees Uriah with his arm around Bathsheba his thoughts aren't tempted by her.
The celebration lasts for two days.
-
On the third morning, David wakes up to Abigail looking down at him fondly.
"Your hair is a mess, husband," she says, stroking some rogue strands of said hair away from his face.
"No more than yours is, wife," he replies, and she shoves him lightly. He wraps his arms around her and pulls her close and she settles against his chest. "No news from Saul's campaign?" he asks, more of a passing thought than a burning question, and Abigail is about to answer when somebody clears their throat outside of David's tent.
"Uncle?" Joab says.
David looks down at Abigail, who shrugs. He sighs. "Is it important?" And then, when Joab doesn't reply right away, "Joab? Are you still there?"
Joab's voice sounds, quiet even without being muffled by the tent fabric. He speaks so fast that David doubts he'd be able to tell what his nephew had said if Joab were in the tent with them. "You're gonna have to speak up, kid," David calls, and it hits its target.
"I'm not a kid!" Joab says abruptly, a little louder than necessary, and David can see his nephew's blush in his mind's eye as Joab coughs. "Um. A man from Saul's army has arrived. He wants to see you."
David tenses, and Abigail sits up lightly to run her hands down his chest. "He'll be right out, Joab," she says, and only after Joab announces his departure does she say, "It's not an assassin."
"I'm not afraid of an assassin," David says, voice thick. "Samuel said I'd live to be President. I'm not President yet." But there are a million things running through his head, situations and possibilities and impossibilities and Abigail shakes him lightly out of it. "You're not doing anybody good over thinking it," she says. "Go and get dressed. It might be nothing."
They both know that it's not nothing, that it's anything but nothing, but David lets the lie carry him through getting out of bed and ready for the day.
-
Asahel's waiting for David outside of his tent when David emerges ten minutes later. "We've put him in the comm tent for now," he says as they begin the short walk to their destination. "Abishai, Joab, and Uriah are watching him."
"Has he said anything?"
"Just that he won't say a word until you're there. He's—" Asahel clears his throat. "He's not in the best shape, so to speak, Uncle."
They pause outside the communications tent. "What do you mean by that?"
Asahel swallows. "He's really dirty, and his uniform's all torn up. Quite a bit of dried blood on him, but he won't let anybody touch him and check for injuries until he's talked to you. And he..."
David waits.
"He looks lost, Uncle. Almost...without hope."
A man from Saul's army that looks like he has lost hope. David can't read into it, refuses to read into it.
It might be nothing, Abigail's light voice says.
It's not nothing, David's thoughts respond.
-
Joab, Abishai, and Uriah look up when he walks through the tent flap, making sure it closes behind himself. David doesn't greet them because he's not here for them—he'll talk to them later. His attention is all for the man in the Elite Forces uniform that's sitting in the most structurally sound chair in the tent. David sits in the chair opposite him. "You wanted to see me? David says, voice completely neutral.
The man nods.
"What's your name? Rank? Battalion?"
No answer.
David glances up at Joab, who looks just as confused as he feels. "Where did you come from, at least?"
"I—" the man coughs suddenly and has to take a drink of water. David doesn't think of Ethan. "I've escaped from Saul's camp."
Escaped. Usually a person doesn't have to escape from their own camp. "What happened?" David asks, and when the man looks like he'll refuse to answer he slams a hand on the table. "Tell me."
The man jumps but does what David commands. "The Phil's overwhelmed us," he says slowly after another drink of water. "It was chaos. Everybody was trying to escape, we knew we couldn't win. A lot of them died—too many. And—and Saul and his son Jonathan..."
"Go!" Jonathan's desperate voice says. "Hurry up! Go quickly! Don't stop!"
David flinches at the memory, and the man looks up at him. David, though, has already schooled himself and refuses to give the stranger an inch, refuses to think past the present moment, refuses to even speculate what the man's words might be. The man swallows.
Joab says, "Maybe another time—"
David holds up a hand and he falls silent. He returns his attention to the trembling man across from him, even as he feels a headache coming on. "What happened?"
The man takes a deep breath. "Saul and his son Jonathan are dead."
Jonathan's arms are squeezing him almost as tightly as he's squeezing Jonathan. There is only one way that this can end and it's not David returning to the Mansion with Jonathan. David doesn't even realize that he's crying until Jonathan sniffs loudly, saying into his shoulder, "You idiot, you stupid idiot, you were supposed to go—"
"I'm not leaving without saying goodbye," David replies, voice harsh and rough, and the hug becomes impossibly tighter.
"He tried to kill me," Jonathan stutters, hands struggling to grip on David's back. "My dad tried to kill me, and if he tried to kill me what does he want to do—"
"I know," David says. "I know."
Joab steps forward. "Uncle—"
"How do you know?" David asks. "How do you know that they're dead?"
Streaks of tears cut down the man's dirty face, and he says shakily, "I was there. I was there on Mount Gilboa and the Phils were coming and Saul just—he just broke. His sons were dead, he heard them breathe their last breaths over the radio. He called to me. Asked me to kill him. And I—"
It's an effort to part, but they do. Jonathan says, "You really have to go," and David says, "I know," but neither of them move.
"You," Jonathan starts, but he changes his mind before he goes even further. "I will never find a better friend than you. You're the brother I've never had. I swear to God that, regardless of what happens with my dad, I will always be your friend. I will always fight to protect you. I swear."
David's words are failing him. "Jonathan—"
"It's okay."
The man is sobbing now, open and uncontrollably. "I killed him. I stood over him and I killed him, shot him in the chest with my gun. And then I took anything that could be of value to the Phil's and I came straight here."
"When?"
"Goodbye, Jonathan."
"No, man. It's 'see you later'."
"Three days ago."
David stands up slowly. He doesn't realize how badly he's shaking until Joab puts a hand on his arm, steadying him. "Thank you for your report," David says to the man, refusing to acknowledge the hand. "Abishai, take him to get looked after."
Abishai doesn't obey, steps forward to take his other arm.
"Uncle," Joab says, squeezing lightly, "maybe you should sit down. It's a lot to take in."
Jonathan grips his arm tight. He looks as tired as David feels. "Don't be afraid," he says, soft. "You're protected by—by God. My dad won't be able to lay a single finger on you. You'll be the President, and I can be your VP. My dad—" Jonathan swallows. "My dad knows that his days are numbered. This is like, his swan song."
The world tilts on its axis more than usual, and David shakes his head in an effort to get it to right itself. "I'm fine."
"Uncle—"
David closes his eyes for the briefest of moments, but it's enough for the memory of Jonathan's bright smile to fill his mind. The last thing he knows are his nephews calling for back up as his knees give out from underneath him and he collapses to the floor.
-
Oh, oh, Gazelles of Israel, struck down on your hills, the mighty warriors - fallen, fallen! Don't announce it in the city of Gath, don't post the news in the streets of Ashkelon.
Don't give those coarse Philistine girls one more excuse for a drunken party!
No more dew or rain for you, hills of Gilboa, and not a drop from springs and wells,
For there the warriors' shields were dragged through the mud,
Saul's shield left there to rot!
Jonathan's bow was bold - the bigger they were the harder they fell.
Saul's sword was fearless - once out of the scabbard, nothing could stop it.
Saul and Jonathan - beloved, beautiful! Together in life, together in death.
Swifter than plummeting eagles, stronger than proud lions.
Women of Israel, weep for Saul. He dressed you in finest cottons and silks, spared no expense in making you elegant.
The mighty warriors - fallen, fallen in the middle of the fight!
Jonathan - struck down on your hills!
O my dear brother Jonathan, I'm crushed by your death.
Your friendship was a miracle-wonder, love far exceeding anything I've known - or ever hope to know.
The mighty warriors - fallen, fallen. And the arms of war broken to bits.
(2 Samuel 1:19-27, The Message)
THE END.
(*hands out kleenex*)