Читать книгу David - Allan Boone's Wargon - Страница 6

Secrecy was also the habitual manner of the prophet Samuel. When he spoke it was with the inference that his words came from God. He was also the last of the legendary Judges, outstanding men who had usually led the tribes in battle; Gideon and Samson had been among those heroes. But Samuel rarely employed violence.

His mother, Hanna, pious yet barren, had promised God that if she bore a son she would give him to the high priest. When Samuel was weaned she had carried out her pledge. The toddler was dressed in a little white robe of her own making.

He grew up steeped in all the central priestly beliefs and practices. As he got older his mother continued to make him white robes in increasingly larger sizes. By the time he had reached maturity he was already the principal priest, and a seer, arbitrator and leader. And recognized by all as a great Judge. He became the undisputed ruler of the tribes, venerated above local jealousies. He had a determined nature that overrode failings and small setbacks, and had held sway for more than a generation. He was like a tent over the entire nation.

*

But murmurs of discontent grew. And indeed the situation was dire. The Philistine conquerors had forbidden even a smithy in Israelite territory, lest it be used to forge weapons of war. To have a plowshare sharpened, a man had to carry it to a Philistine city and humbly beg for the favour of paying heavily. The Israelites yearned for a king, such as nearby nations had. Someone they hoped could lift their yoke.

Samuel bitterly warned them of the evils of kingship — that a king would conscript all their sons to make war, and all their daughters to work in his kitchens, and would take the best of their fields and vineyards and olive groves and give them to his personal servants, and would take a tenth of their produce and herds for his officers and men, and take all their own servants and slaves, the finest of their young people, for his own use. He predicted that instead of the Israelites being saved they would find themselves hopelessly enslaved. And then they would cry out in their anguish, but the Lord would refuse to hear them!

The people listened patiently to this tirade and then insisted that they still wanted a king. The elders pointed out that all other alternatives had failed. Elders were men who, because of their age, wealth, or virtue, were considered leaders of their communities. They respectfully reminded the old man that his own two sons, whom he had appointed to judge disputes, had proved unworthy: they had taken bribes and perverted justice. This sad truth, which privately hurt the prophet terribly — for he had never in his life departed from what he considered best for the nation — plus the combined elders’ persistence, finally overcame him.

Samuel wisely chose from the smallest tribe, Benjamin, of whom the others could be least envious. And he picked the tallest, most valiant man.

*

Saul was ruggedly handsome. He stood a head higher than those around him. And his assured air suggested nobility. As a younger man he had forcefully recruited and led a party that had gone to the aid of Jabesh-gilead, a small Israelite city on the east bank of the Jordan. It was being assaulted by the Ammonites, whose terms of submission were that they be allowed to gouge out the right eye of every man in the city. Saul’s force rescued it.

Amid general approval, Samuel anointed Saul king.

*

But they soon fell out. Samuel was unable to stomach sharing power. He made it impossible for Saul to adhere to his commands. Which, as always, he said were the wishes of God.

Yet Saul proved an able ruler and the tribesmen rallied to him. At first, with only heavy sticks used as clubs, axes, a very few swords and spears that had been hidden, slings and some bows, they began to win skirmishes. Then battles. Weapons were increased and improved. And gradually Saul brought a measure of order.

This success riled Samuel, and he denounced Saul, proclaiming that he was no longer king. Their final rupture came after a successful battle against the Amalekites. Samuel had ordered Saul to destroy utterly the Amalekites and everything of theirs, but Saul spared their king, Agag, and the best of their livestock, which he said were meant as an offering to the Lord. Samuel, enraged, declared that obedience was greater than ritual sacrifice, and demanded that Agag be brought before him. When the chained prisoner appeared, Samuel, uncharacteristically, personally hacked him to pieces.

Following this frightful event, Samuel and Saul parted, never to meet again. Samuel went on maintaining that the Lord had completely rejected Saul’s monarchy. But this only caused uncertainty among the population, and humiliation for the prophet. Because Saul continued as king, and continued to be effective. Samuel had moral authority, and the supposed word of God, but Saul had the soldiers.

*

Samuel was determined to destroy him. But the prophet was too crafty to promote another big man as a challenger. He wanted a boy who would grow into his own when Saul was declining. As he had informants everywhere, he had heard of the unusual lutist in Bethlehem. He made his way there, in seeming innocence, leading a red heifer. It was not strange in Israel for even so great a man to have his hand in earthy pursuits. Nonetheless his arrival stirred anxious concern throughout the village. Trembling, the elders met him, venturing Come you peacefully?

Peacefully he replied. Though before he would sit down to the feast hurriedly prepared for him, he required that all the young men be brought before him. Fortunately, Jesse’s sons were there, and they in turn were shown to the prophet. But his shrewd eyes saw nothing outstanding in any of them. Yet for a moment he was interested in Eliab, the oldest son, because of his height and burly stature. But then he remembered that he had already made that mistake. He turned to Jesse. Are there no more youths?

Jesse said The youngest is still left, but he is tending the sheep.

Samuel replied Send for him, for we will not sit before he comes.

*

David arrived breathless, outstripping the messenger. He revered and feared Samuel, as someone whose eminence and power he had heard of all his life. But when he stood in front of the prophet, his cheeks flushed, his mouth open in gasps, his reddish hair curling around his forehead, the blue-green eyes wide, the beautiful face upturned, he felt that this must be the most decisive moment he had ever known.

The prophet’s lids narrowed as his gaze sharpened, then slowly almost shut. Samuel had witnessed many happenings and known many people in his long life. He could read them and was seldom wrong. He had been right about Saul, unfortunately. Yet he held to the bitter conviction that he knew best. Age did not deter him; he behaved as if he was going to live forever. With the help of God, Who in mystic moments seemed little different from himself, he was resolved to continue guiding the country’s destiny. Without him, God’s agent on earth, who would uphold the utmost standards of morality, of ethical behaviour, of justice, all of which were contained in the humility of religious worship? Any other course had to be prevented, by whatever means.

In this lad before him he saw not only attractiveness, talent, sense and courage, but a bounding, suppressed ambition, an unleashed yearning to do large things. It suited well his own unfolding plans.

David fell to his knees, his head bowed. Samuel took from his robe a horn of oil and spilled a little on the boy’s hair. As the inquiring look rose to his, the prophet lightly smeared some across David’s brow, and briefly laid his hands on the consecrated head.

No one spoke. All were frozen in wonder. The mysterious ceremony was concluded without a word. But from then on everyone present knew that David, like Saul, was of the Lord’s anointed.

*

Jesse didn’t know what to make of it. He was elated that his son, and through David his family, had been favoured, and relieved that the prophet had departed with no more troubling gestures. But since nothing else followed, and the intention of the act remained obscure, David’s brothers, though they had been awed when it happened, tended to dismiss it. Jesse too was gradually able to take comfort in things getting back to normal. David returned to the sheep.

*

But within himself David knew that God had blessed him. Perhaps chosen him for some unique role. Left alone, thrilled, and with fresh language continually running through his mind, his songs took on more intimacy, as if, insignificant as he was, as all people were:

What is man that You have been mindful of him,

mortal man that You have taken note of him.

He had become the protégé of that Almighty power. Now when he played the lute, or practised his sling, it was with a sureness born of confidence.

*

On a forenoon like any other, when David had withdrawn from the flocks, as he did more and more, a woman appeared. David had seen her before: she was from Gallim, a settlement near Bethlehem, and sustained herself by making bowls. She had on a clean light red robe, with no smears of the clay used in her work. Her head covering had fallen back, and he saw that there was ribbon around her long hair. This was elaborate for a workday.

David knew that she was a kind of suspended widow. She had lost her husband four years earlier, but as no one had seen his body, or could swear for certain that he was dead, and he had left no close male relatives, she had remained stranded. It was customary for men to divorce their wives, temporarily, when they left on a campaign, but her husband had carelessly not done so. She was juicy, and unfulfilled.

It was a time when the sparse season was over. The stony land was sprouting grass, rock roses, poppies, anemones, buttercups and tulips. Almonds were blossoming and the perfumed air was warm. The woman’s face, flushed from climbing, shone with pleasure at the success of her quest. She was not yet twenty-two, and her figure, somewhat defined by the tight girdle confining her robe, was graceful. Over her arm she carried a reed basket.

Lutist of Bethlehem she said, I’ve brought you a midday meal.

I have food David said, guarded. Bread and cheese.

But here are olives, figs and raisins, and even some wine. Please, she said let me serve you.

David followed and then took the lead. He knew of a hollow well out of sight of the herds. It was fortunate that almost everyone else went no farther than their own boundaries, or did anything other than their customary tasks. And it was the time of the afternoon sleep; with the workday beginning at dawn, by then people were dozing. What is your name? he said.

Rachel she answered, smiling, and wet her lips. They sat and she began setting out her treats. The sun, almost overhead in a clear sky, was hot, and she undid the belt-like girdle. Her loosened cloak fell open and for a moment parted enough to reveal a curved breast. She pulled the front together, and then glanced at David. He had dropped his gaze to his lap and was rummaging in his bag, placed there as if for ease, but really to cover the swelling protuberance under his tunic. They ate, but mostly with their eyes. Rachel’s were brown, and mischievous. Her look was coy, then frankly sensuous. David’s shifted between her amorous regard and her body. Then she put a hand on his bare forearm. Take me she said.

They made a bed of their clothing. David was glad that he had learnt cleanliness from his father. Hesitantly, he touched her breasts, then kissed and suckled them in a surge of desire. She lay back and drew him down.

I’ve — I’ve never done this he said.

Sh-h-h she said, and taking hold of his aroused member guided it into her.

There seemed no limit to her moist interior. David felt very small. Not only physically; he was terrified of doing the wrong thing. But not much movement soon crested in a mutual paroxysm and discharge. He lay on her, triumphant and ashamed. She sighed and held him. They were covered with a fine sweet perspiration, like dew. He raised his head and searched her ruddy face for discontent. It was fine she said.

I’m sorry I’m little.

You’re not! she laughed. The Lord has endowed you there too!

*

David was exultant. He felt strong, manly, potent. At the same time humble, and filled with gratitude for the tender gift that had been given him. In his mind he saw the surge of her breasts, her soft belly and firm thighs, and the welcoming opening. More than once he wanted to fall down and pay homage for her existence.

Rachel came to him several times. In between he longed for her with an almost physical craving, visualizing her image and being virtually overcome with need. When they were together he stroked her skin, whispered loving words, and nudged her in places that were ticklish and made her giggle, so that they laughed together. David was continually smiling. Delight bubbled up in him. He spouted all sorts of nonsensical, naughty and witty puns and ditties that amused her and made her impulsively kiss him. He brought her gifts of blossoms and fashioned her necklaces and bracelets of flowers. She was careful to leave them behind when she went home.

But once, on an overcast day, just before dark, when he met her furtively near Gallim, she held back. This time she was wearing a grey, everyday robe. My absences have been noticed she said. People are talking. I don’t want to be stoned.

David protested that they could be more careful.

There’s another thing she said. An Aramean, come for trade, says my husband was captured as a slave, and died in service a short time later. If he is believed, then I can get a man of my own.

David was silent. He knew he would not be that man.

*

He became zealous in looking after the herds. Every morning he saw that the goats to be milked were driven into their paddocks, and he roamed the edges of the flocks, carrying the stout stick of smoothed olive wood that was usually enough to warn off a swooping falcon or a night-stalking hyena. The herders, unused to such close attention, wished he would go back to his negligent ways.

He missed his woman, any woman. Now, self-gratification felt unsatisfying and distinctly shameful. His seeming manhood, so swiftly acquired, languished for lack of an outlet. He was too proud, and shy, and afraid of repercussions, to entice any neighbourhood girls, except in imagination. Rachel had come to him, and he hoped another would. But no one did, and he expressed his frustration in verses that were both exultant and yearning. Most of those he abandoned as he again took up his solitary ways.

Among the hills where the sheep were pastured there were swampy pockets that seldom dried out. Some of these contained crocodiles, and all of them provided water and cover for the wild animals that roamed the land, and the birds that constantly flew and sounded over it. Sometimes David would go close to such a place, attracted by the warblers, ravens, swifts, herons and, if he was lucky, the gorgeously plumed hoopoe.

*

One hot early evening, when dusk had already diminished sight, he noticed movement behind a clump of thorn bushes. He went closer. The stirring appeared at both ends of the thicket. Whatever was there was huge. The sheep were already bunching away from it, treading on one another to escape the smell. David circled, and was confronted with a full-grown male lion. The beast hesitated, glancing between David and the flock. A boy with a stick didn’t seem particularly formidable, while rich food was just a few bounds away. The first stone caught the animal on the side of its head, but glanced off the skull. Dismayed, the lion uttered a low growl. The second stone struck him in the mouth. Enraged, he pawed to spit it out, roared and began his charge. The third stone hit between the eyes. The lion stopped, dazed, and wavered a little. More stones followed. The creature sank to its knees. Highly excited, hardly stopping to catch his breath, David threw rock after rock at it. Peppered by this incessant, wounding pelting, the lion slowly toppled to its side. The animal’s breast rose and fell.

Attracted by the disturbance, the herders came running. They helped David smash down heavy jagged boulders. In his death throes the large cat clawed at the hard ground. At last the huge beast lay still. One of the herders had a knife. Taking it from him, David plunged it repeatedly into the body where he thought the heart should be. A fetid smell came from the mouth. Blood was running around the limp tongue and out between the sharp teeth. The scratched earth became soaked.

*

Attacks by wild beasts were not uncommon. Yet Jesse was bewildered by what his son had done. Although very pleased. And the brothers had to agree that David was an animal killer. But they were inclined to regard it as a clever prank, as if the young man had lured the lion to its death. They found it hard to yield any superiority.

David no longer cared about their disdain. He was steeped in loneliness and dissatisfaction. Nothing was happening that truly mattered. He was now fourteen, lithe and muscular, and had earlier been singled out by — he assumed — God, but apparently for no special purpose. Day after day passed in stultifying sameness. He contemplated the Eternal, the God of his clan, his tribe, his people, and suspected that the Almighty had let him down, was treating him unfairly. For no knowable reason. He felt nonplussed, and tried to win favour:

I will praise the Lord for His righteousness,

and sing a hymn to the name of the Lord Most High.

Indeed, David was soon to leave the sheep. A messenger had come to Jesse with the request, the order, that his son the lutist was to accompany him to the king.