Читать книгу King Saul - John C. Holbert - Страница 7

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The decision worked well this time for both sides as Kish’s flocks and herds expanded and his fields were thick with grain at the times of harvest. He had numerous sturdy sons, all of whom were strapping boys, strong workers, devoted to Kish and to Kish’s God, YHWH. It was particularly important that Kish and his family prove themselves devotees of YHWH, the mysterious God of the far-away mountain who had created everything and who offered to the faithful the riches of the land. The elders had built a shrine to YHWH at the highest place near the village, and all were expected to bring appropriate offerings to the God as well as to learn of the many demands that YHWH had laid on those who would be the God’s followers. It was no problem for Kish to be regular in his sacrificial practice for in truth he grew deeply devoted to YHWH, the often hidden deity, in response to the increasing successes of his farm. Kish was careful to speak often of YHWH to his family, and easily had YHWH’s name on his lips whenever any of the elders came for a visit to Kish’s farm. And Kish and his sons made regular trips to the shrine, bringing with them gifts of ripe grain and on special occasions like spring lambing season, a pure animal for sacrifice. Kish and family soon became respected members of the village, and he was elected to the council of elders as quickly as any new comer ever had.

One of Kish’s sons stood out from his brothers in nearly every way. He was very good-looking, any girl in Benjamin could tell you that. Years of hard farm labor filled out his arms and shoulders, and since his particular job was plowing behind the yoked oxen, his legs became heavily muscled as well. Walking in the muddy fields, trying to keep the huge oxen straight in the rows, forced arms and legs to strain almost every minute, so the boy became a chiseled figure of a man. All commented that this boy, Saul, was very pleasing to the eyes of all who saw him. But that was not the most noticeable thing about him. He was no doubt handsome, but most of all he was magically tall. No one could remember seeing a man as tall as he; four cubits (that is the height of a very tall camel, a cubit representing the distance between the middle finger and the elbow) at least he was. It was something of a joke as the boy grew, how he first towered over his mother by age ten, and then dwarfed his father by age fifteen. Carmi and Doeg took bets on just how tall Saul would finally become, while Abior wagered with Carmi, ever the one for a wager, on just when he would stop growing. When he grew nearly a span (the space between last finger and thumb) in his fifteenth year, he would cry out in the night because of the pain in his legs, the bones and sinews stretching and stretching.

Old Kish, his father, first beamed with pride at his enormous and handsome son, but as his growing continued, he became fearful that perhaps his boy was some sort of freak, a misfit in a shorter, more normal world, a monster to terrify little children, the stuff of scary stories in the night. Saul was special, all right, but he was also odd, peculiar, and could not be treated quite like Kish’s other children. He could not share a sleeping place with anyone else, since he took up the whole of any normal sleeping rug. His appetite was prodigious; Kish’s wife had to cook more and more food for the family as Saul ate enough for three or four children, and eventually enough for three or four adults. Of course, he was very handy about the farm; only Saul could handle alone the great team of oxen that was so essential to the work of plowing and planting; only Saul could lift the enormous stones that the plowing always turned up. It was often said that stones were the finest product of the fields of Israel, so stone moving was a central job when working the land. And no one could move stones like Saul.

Stories about Saul were told far and wide in the land. One described the day that he killed a lion in the field with his bare hands; another spoke of the time he grabbed two eagles right out of the air, the eagles apparently not aware that even they could not overtop the towering Saul. Many wags in the alehouses whispered that Saul must be endowed with a member the size of a bull, and they told tales of a prodigious sexual appetite that had put smiles on the faces of many willing Israelite women. Though Saul was not yet twenty summers, his fame spread as fires sweeping up the canyons of the hill country.

It is not likely that any of these stories were true; or if they had a grain of truth, they had been expanded well beyond validity. In fact, Saul was a simple boy, a capable farmer, and a dutiful son to Kish. Oh, he was a huge man, no question of that. But he was a man, not a monster, not a freak, not sexually or emotionally extraordinary in any special ways. Quite the opposite. Saul was rather a loner and quite shy; his size cut him off from others; he had little interest in being the center of attention. Saul just wanted to fit in, have some friends, some simple fun, love a fine woman, marry and have children. That’s all he wanted really. But everywhere he went he stood out, a full head and more taller than anyone else had ever been, as people liked to say. Whether he wanted to or not, Saul was special, unique, more physically gifted than any man. More powerfully handsome than all other men, too.

On longer summer days, after the farm chores were done, Saul loved to climb one of the hills that bordered Kish’s land, sit on the top, gazing at the meadows down below. He wanted to be alone. Here on the top of the mountain, he could feel small in the face of the great land of mountain and valley spread all around him. Here he was not singled out for size; here he thought about his life and YHWH, creator of earth and sky. His father taught his boys well the stories, laws, and poems that made up the traditions of the ancestors. Saul loved all religious things; he reveled in the sacrifices the family made, especially when they took the day-long journey east to Gilgal and its hallowed shrine, a much more impressive place than the small shrine in Gibeah. He rejoiced in the singing of the psalms of the faith, some new compositions, and some borrowed and changed from the ancient Canaanites whose descendants still lived in the hills to the north. Saul, himself, loved to sing, his rich bass regularly heard above the smaller voices of his brothers and friends. He studied the laws of Israel carefully, attempting to understand their modern applications. He especially loved the account of the Exodus from Egypt, how YHWH had defeated the vast armies of pharaoh after saving the chosen people from certain defeat at the Sea of Reeds, a marshy lake of uncertain location far in the west. He thrilled at the exploits of the great Moses who had led the reluctant and often terrified and foolish Israelites to that sea, through it, and beyond it toward the land of promise, part of which Saul now was seeing and living in. He loved the tale of the gift of the law at the smoking and heaving mountain of Sinai, how Moses brought the tablets of that law down from the mountain, only to shatter them in anger when he witnessed the orgy of idolatry centered on the molten calf, created by Aaron, and worshipped by those same people, who had been saved from bondage by YHWH. He shook his great head always when he heard these stories; he just could not imagine how his ancestors had so quickly rejected the freedom of YHWH, turning instead to a ridiculous pathetic little calf of gold. If he had been there, he thought, he would have joined Moses in melting that disgusting idol and would have readily force-fed the golden liquid down the throats of those ingrates!

Saul often felt that he was closest to his God when he was alone on his favorite hill, remembering the stories of the past. And he was convinced in his heart that he had a special destiny from that God; why else would YHWH have made him so tall? Why else could he eat and work like four men? Perhaps he was to be a priest in some shrine or other? Perhaps he should wait to see if he received a word as a prophet? The prophet Samuel was very old, and Saul had heard that Samuel’s sons were not going to succeed their father in the tasks of ruling Israel. Why not he? Why not the tallest and most handsome man in the land? Yet, Saul knew he felt most free, most contented when he was alone, away from staring eyes, away from the foolish stories that his size or his good looks had spawned. How could he lead anyone when he felt uncomfortable in the presence of even a few people? Whatever God’s plan for him was, he hoped it would not include being looked at by a crowd of gawking strangers. And after he had sat alone for some time on the hill, he hurried home to his family before the sun set, because he had no wish to trouble Kish or his mother or his brothers. Saul was a good boy, and could be trusted to be at the place he said he was going to be at the time he had said. Even if YHWH did not have any special task for him, he would be perfectly content to live out his days on the farm, perhaps taking over for Kish when his days for rough work were over.

One day, Saul’s younger brother, Asaph, who was responsible for the pack animals of the farm, the donkeys and the two golden Egyptian camels, had forgotten to reattach the gate rope, and all of the donkeys, all eight of them, had wandered off in the night. This was a catastrophe for any farm, for without the donkeys the grain sales in the nearby towns would be impossible. The grain would rot in the barns, and the family, deprived of the proceeds of the sale, would go hungry in the winter to come. They had to be found! But Asaph, who felt miserable for his mistake, was far too young to send on such a trip. Donkeys could have wandered many miles in any direction. The light rain in the night covered their tracks, making the possibility of quick discovery unlikely. It could be a trip of many days, and one always had to be concerned about bands of thieves quick to take advantage of a poorly defended group of travelers. Also, columns of Philistine warriors were always searching for new ways to breach the defenses of Israel and were a constant danger. There was only one of Kish’s sons who should go on the search, and that was Saul. His size was an obvious advantage; few thieves would risk a confrontation with such a man, and the cowardly Philistines would think more than twice before attacking Saul. They had a champion of their own, named Goliath, who was reputed to be even taller than Saul, which was probably an exaggeration, but perhaps suggested why they would be reluctant to take Saul on. Saul, the very tall and powerful Israelite, like Goliath, the very tall and powerful Philistine, would be difficult if not impossible to defeat in open combat. So, Saul was chosen by Kish to go hunt for the donkeys. The plan pleased Saul, since a journey into the wilderness promised some possible adventure and released him, however briefly, from the sometimes monotonous drudgery of daily work on the farm.

Kish also chose an especially clever slave named Joseph to go with him. Joseph had been named after the wily son of Jacob, the trickster, and over the years of his time with the family had proven to be a great help to Kish when it came to keeping accounts straight, assuring that crop yields remained high, and running the everyday upkeep of the farm with skill and absolute trustworthiness. Joseph did talk a great deal; one could quickly weary of his interminable stories. Still, he was a worthy man, very short, balding, but honest in all things. Saul and Joseph left the next morning at dawn, Saul riding one of the camels, towering high over the diminutive Joseph who lead the other one, laden with supplies good for many days. Such an odd pair they made! The giant Saul, riding high over the desert landscape and Joseph, walking behind, often hidden in the huge shadow that Saul and his camel cast on the ground. But that shadow was often to Joseph’s advantage. He paced his walking to use Saul’s immensity to block out the blazing sun. It made the journey considerably more pleasant, and Saul did not know that he was the source of such ease for the clever slave. Joseph walked in Saul’s shadow with a smile on his face.

Donkeys are not fools, so they will not simply wander off blindly in any direction. Saul well knew the story of Balaam, an ancient prophet who was saved from acting against the chosen people by, of all things, a talking donkey! Saul had obviously never heard Kish’s donkeys speak, but he never underestimated their natural cleverness. Unlike the absurd sheep, they had more in mind than the next blade of grass. During those times when Saul sat alone on his favorite mountain and thought about the stories, laws, and songs of his tradition, he could not help but laugh when he remembered some priest piously intoning “YHWH is my shepherd.” If YHWH is shepherd, then I am sheep, thought Saul, and that makes me about as smart as a hill of slippery shale! Religion and its ideas were not always so serious!

Donkeys were surely smarter than sheep, but they, unlike the wondrous camel, must drink every day, so Saul reasoned that the eight strays would move toward familiar water holes. And since Saul and Joseph knew all the watering places for many days’ walk around, they figured that the search would not last long. They first moved in a northeasterly direction toward the territory of Ephraim, higher in the hills where there were several places for water, but the donkeys were not there. They pushed on ever higher and found themselves in the part of Ephraim known as Shalishah, now nearly three days from home. The walking and riding were hard, the footing difficult on the dry shale that covered the hills. Joseph’s camel was often reluctant to continue, and needed to be coaxed and goaded over and over. Camels may be very helpful beasts, but they are not known for their easy willingness to follow orders, so Joseph shouted himself hoarse on the second and third days of the trip, urging, pleading, demanding, begging the filthy beast to get going. Too often, its four thin legs would splay out in a rigid position and it would not budge. There was nothing for it at those times but to take a break and wait for the shaggy thing to make up its own mind to carry on. This slowed the search, and made both Saul and Joseph anxious and frustrated the further they got from Gibeah.

Saul was a basically silent boy, while Joseph knew a thousand stories and was always anxious to share them with anyone who would listen and even with those who cared not to listen at all. He especially loved to brag about his namesake, the great Joseph, son of Jacob, savior of Egypt and ultimately Israel, too. So on the fourth day of the search for the lost donkeys, and after Joseph’s disgusting camel had once more refused to continue up a steep and slippery slope, dropping onto its belly with its four legs akimbo, Joseph screamed in frustration, “Get up, you smelly beast! I have had it up to my eyeballs with your actions. I am master here, not you! If God had given me four legs, and you two, then you could tell me what to do. But YHWH, praise be, made you to carry and work and me to lead. So, let’s go—now!” This brief lesson in the wondrous ways of God had no effect on the camel whatever; it lay on its hairy belly and spit its cud on the ground, which was also the way YHWH had made it. And, of course, it bellowed that camel bellow, which to Joseph sounded all too much like a laugh, a laugh directed at him and, he thought, at YHWH. Not only did the creature smell and refuse to move, it was a blasphemer against the Almighty, too, thought Joseph, as he tugged and cursed and shouted. The camel just bellowed. With a final fruitless pull, the rope snapped and Joseph fell hard on his very clever backside. And Saul broke into a broad grin, which for him was like a very great howl of laughter indeed. But it was only a grin after all.

There was nothing for Joseph to do but laugh at himself. He had learned to do that quite well, realizing that the ability to laugh at oneself always helped those around to appreciate his company more. Joseph, unlike Saul, had many friends. Obviously, they would have to rest in their search, because the camel was not going anywhere for a while. So Joseph reached into his rich store of tales and pulled one forth. Saul looked as expectant as he could look, though he would have much preferred to get on with the work of donkey finding. He sat heavily on the side of the hill, and leaned his huge back against the cool of a large rock. And Joseph, seeing he had a relatively attentive audience, launched into one of his favorite family stories.

“My ancestor, the mighty Joseph, after whom I was named, (as if Saul did not know that!) became the great and terrible vizier of Egypt.” (Though Saul did not know exactly what a vizier was or what such a person did, he did not question his servant, not wanting to appear foolish.) “And there was a monstrous famine in the lands of Jacob, so bad that he was forced to send his sons back to Egypt to get food from the rich stores of that fabled land. Well, of course the sons were less than eager to go back there and face the mighty vizier—they did not know that he was in fact their long-lost brother, Joseph, my ancestor (yes, yes, get on with it, thought Saul!). You see, on an earlier trip to buy food, the vizier had sold them food, for which the brothers had paid a fair price. But on the way back to their father, they had opened their sacks and had seen all the money they thought they had given to the man pouring out on the ground! They were horrified, convinced that the great man would call them thieves and throw them in prison or might even have them killed. They did not know what had happened, but they had little desire to go back and find out.

But Jacob insisted and they went. This time when the vizier allowed them an audience—he always had an interpreter between them, making the brothers think that he could not understand Hebrew—he asked after their youngest brother, Benjamin. The lad had not come with them, since Jacob doted on him, seeing in him the replacement for his original favorite, Joseph, who he was sure was long dead, devoured by one of the cruel beasts of the wilderness. Strangely, the vizier had insisted on seeing Benjamin, saying that if he did not come with them, they would get no food from him. So they made yet another long trip home. Jacob was adamant that his new favorite would not leave his side, but the brothers convinced him finally that they would all starve if Benjamin did not show his face to the terrifying Egyptian.

So the young Benjamin went with them, leaving the father weeping at home and fearing the loss of another favorite son. Once again, the brothers appeared before the powerful official whose all-seeing eye fell on the young boy. ‘Is this Benjamin, of whom you spoke?’ he asked. Joseph could hardly get the words out of his mouth, so moved was he when he saw the boy; it was like looking in a mirror that miraculously showed an image of what used to be. So, my ancestor left the audience chamber and wept alone for his love for his brother.

He soon recovered himself, dried his eyes, and came back to continue his discussion with his brothers, though they did not know he was their brother.” (Saul was only half-listening now, becoming very tired of Joseph’s way of telling things he did not need to hear to understand the story. He had always hated excess words, something the servant had a surfeit of.) “Well, to make the story shorter (“thank YHWH,” muttered Saul), Joseph finally revealed who he was to his brothers, and they were so shocked that they could not speak.” (Would that you were the same, thought Saul!) “And the result was that they all lived happily together in the land of Egypt, and all thanks to my clever forebear, Joseph, the cleverest man in all our history. And of course YHWH, too, led him to act so.” Saul was glad that Joseph had put YHWH into the story, but still thought that it sounded suspiciously like an afterthought.

Saul sat in silence, thinking about this story that he had heard Joseph tell too many times. It sounded simple—the rejected Joseph becomes a great man and thus saves his family and his people from starvation. But Saul always wondered why Joseph, that supposedly good and wise and wondrous man, had played with his brothers so, putting the money back in their sacks and demanding that his father release Benjamin to him, thus wounding him grievously at the thought of losing his favorite. Who better than Joseph would know just what pain Jacob would feel at the loss of a favorite son? And why would he pretend for all those moons to be what he clearly was not? Why not just reveal himself to them? Was Joseph just a good and clever man or was he also a man who wanted revenge against his brothers who had wished him dead those many years before? And what about YHWH? What had the God to do with all this trickery and deceit and revenge and pain? Saul wondered all these things, but did not speak them to Joseph. He had little wish to cross verbal swords with his servant, knowing all too well that in such a battle he would likely lose, and would hurt the feelings of Joseph who imagined that his namesake could do no wrong.

Well, after the happy ending of the long story, the camel had decided to rise again, like some reborn plant, and it appeared that he had agreed to allow Joseph to lead him up the steep hill. Saul rose, and grabbed the rope of his beast and helped Joseph retie it, that ripped thing that had left him on his backside. They headed up the hill, hoping that they would see the accursed donkeys at last.

But they did not, and turned back southwest, back into Benjamin, passing Baal Hazor and ancient Bethel, the shrine of Jacob the clever, on their right. Saul wished they had time to stop in Bethel and worship at the sanctuary which was said to contain within its weathered altar the stone that Jacob had chosen for a pillow, and finally for a monument to YHWH who had appeared to the patriarch at that very place. But they had been gone nearly five long days now, and their supplies were running low. Besides, Saul thought, a visit to the shrine might trigger still another long story from the loquacious Joseph. He vowed to return here another day, alone. Saul had his own familiar and helpful way to remember that story of Jacob and his stone pillow. What had always been important to him about that tale was the fact that Jacob had looked up from his place of sleeping at the magic place of Luz and had actually seen YHWH! That was the way the story was always told to Saul. Jacob, the wily trickster had seen YHWH! Saul had been told again and again that no one could see YHWH and live. Yet, Jacob had done so. What would it be like to see YHWH? What would YHWH look like? Tall like me, thought Saul? Bearded? Could YHWH be a woman, sweet and helpful like Saul’s mother? Unthinkable! Or perhaps not human at all, a cloud, a fire as in the Exodus wilderness, a giant dragon as one of the psalms said? Saul often had these silent ruminations, but he seldom shared them with anyone. Others might think him foolish or stupid or blasphemous.

On the sixth day they found themselves near the village of Zuph, a tiny place close to the larger village of Ramah. More recently, Ramah had been the scene of contention between Samuel and some men of Beer Sheba over leadership in the land after Samuel’s eventual death. Saul and Joseph had heard of the struggle against Samuel’s leadership on account of his two unworthy sons, but there had apparently been no resolution, since those who had gathered at Ramah had simply left the place at Samuel’s command. No leader had been chosen, and Samuel had remained alone in the city—or so it was rumored. Information was difficult to come by after the shock of the angry confrontation with YHWH’s prophet.

They were now only about a day from home again, and Saul was anxious to see Gibeah and his father.

He turned to Joseph, and said, “We need to get home, because my father has now probably stopped worrying about the donkeys, which can be replaced by others, and will now be worrying about us, who cannot really be replaced in quite so simple a way.”

Saul rarely joked, so Joseph missed the tiny witticism how humans could be considered more worthy than donkeys. The servant had an idea that might solve their problem and was somewhat surprised that his master had not thought of it, too. It came to him that they were barely a short walk from that Ramah, Samuel’s hometown. If the prophet was still in Ramah, as some said he was, he perhaps had gone to his house to recover from his harrowing fight about his future, the future of his sons, and the future of the land. If he was there, Joseph knew what they could do. Joseph played coy with Saul at first as he revealed his plan.

“A small way ahead is the town of Ramah. There is a man of God there who is greatly honored by everyone.”

Well, Saul of course knew at least by reputation whom Joseph meant—the man of God was Samuel—and the fact was that not everyone did honor him as before, as the recent conflict there had made all too clear. Though Saul had never actually seen the prophet, he like all Israelites, scattered throughout the hill country, knew his power and his great actions for all the people. Samuel was far and away the most famous man in the land.

“Everyone knows that whatever he says always comes true.”

Saul knew that to be so; Samuel had long claimed that his words were in fact YHWH’s words, and Saul had no reason to doubt the prophet in this; he had been leading the land in every way for well over fifty winters, long before Saul had been born.

“Let’s go into Samuel’s city; perhaps he can tell us about this journey we have been on.”

Saul thought it was an odd way to say that they should ask the great Samuel to perform some divining trick to help them find the lost animals. Did not the famous man have more important things to do than find lost objects for anyone happening to wander by his town? Still, Saul would gladly receive help with the dumb beasts, since he was heartily sick of the chase.

“Even if Samuel is in the city, what can we bring in the way of payment? I assume that mighty soothsayers like Samuel do not do their magic for nothing. We have no food, no present, no gift of any kind. I suggest we move on to Gibeah, and tell Kish that the donkeys are nowhere to be found.”

But Joseph fumbled in his robe and produced, very surprisingly, a tiny quarter-shekel silver piece. Saul at first was irritated that Joseph had not mentioned this bit of money earlier, since Saul had thought they had spent all they had in the fruitless search. His second thought was that no decent seer would work his wonders for such a paltry sum, but he decided that they had little to lose in the attempt. The famous man, both seer and prophet, might be insulted; but, then again, after his recent confrontation with an increasingly divided people, he might be anxious for the simple task of divining a few strayed beasts. Success might help his reputation and soothe his bruised ego.

“Very well, “ said Saul, “let’s go,” and with that the two of them entered the gates of Ramah.

The town was typical in design. Its walls were a mixture of undressed stones and mud, slightly higher than the height of a normal man; Saul, of course, could see over them easily. The streets were a warren of shorter and longer passageways, dotted on both sides by minute mud-brick huts, roofed with palm and large tree branches, doors covered with woven rugs among the richer places, sheep’s hides on those meaner hovels. The dry streets were thick with dust, dotted with the dung of many sorts of beasts, peopled by shouting children, harried women, and sweating men, a great mass of confusing smells and sights, all familiar to anyone entering a village in the poor land of Israel. Ramah was built into the side of a hill, the better to protect itself from attack from the rear. The wall needed only to be built around half the place, the other half well guarded by the rocky outcrop that formed both its backdrop and its rear guard. The lowest part of Ramah was at the entrance gate; all who came there found themselves immediately walking uphill into the city.

Saul and Joseph moved directly toward the city center, as always marked by the well, the gathering place, the community center, the origin of news and gossip along with the life-giving water that made the city possible at all. Of course, cities live on more than water; news and gossip are as life giving and important as the fresh liquid that flowed forth from the ancient well that supplied water even in the driest of seasons. As the strangers approached the well, some lively girls came to draw some water. There were three of them, two veiled, but one whose dark eyes flashed in admiration at the sight of the giant and handsome young man, accompanied by his much smaller, and much less interesting, servant. Saul smiled at the dark-eyed one, appreciating her own beauty and energy, drinking in the obvious flirting, with its not-so-hidden promise of future pleasures. Kish’s lost donkeys briefly clip-clopped from his mind, as his vision filled with those dark eyes and the striking face from which they gazed.

“Is the seer here?” he asked, not attempting to hide his obvious pleasure at the woman and her companions. Saul imagined that these young women would not be all that interested in the magic of the soothsayer, but the reputation of Samuel made it certain that they would know whether or not he was at home today. As Ramah’s most famous resident, his activities would be known by nearly everyone.

But the answer he received from the women was certainly different than he had expected. They fairly bubbled with excitement and let loose a torrent of words, many of which had little to do with the simple question he had asked.

“Yes! There he goes just ahead of you! (They pointed vaguely toward the hill.) He has come to the city just today, because the people have a sacrifice today, and, of course, the great Samuel is the only one who can lead the ritual. Close to the entrance to the city, back from where you have just come, you can find him, before he goes up to the holy high place to eat. (Now they pointed the other direction!) The people will not eat until he comes, because he alone can bless the sacrifice. After that, those eat who are called. Now go up there! You will meet him right away!”

And with a gaggle of giggles the three hurried away, though they had forgotten completely to fill their water jars. Saul was very confused by what they had said. They first said that Samuel could be found up at the high place of sacrifice but had then gone on to say that he was at the moment near the gate of the city, the place from which Saul and Joseph had just come. And, anyway, why would they bother to tell Saul, a complete stranger, anything about the protocol of the sacrificial event? What did he care about who was invited to the sacrifices of Ramah? What interest did he have in the order of the events, who participated and who did not? He only wanted his donkeys, and the powerful magician might hold the key.

Saul and Joseph headed toward the sacrificial place, guessing that the great man might be there, walking deeper into the town, moving ever higher up the hill. Just then, they saw Samuel move directly toward them. Though neither Saul nor Joseph had ever seen the famous prophet, they knew him immediately. He seemed impossibly old, his face marked by deep crevasses, his beard nearly white, though somewhat yellowed now, his notorious eyes still sharp, albeit growing milky and clouded. Though he was on his way to the high place, as the girls had said, when he saw Saul and Joseph he came straight toward them. And he had a noticeable frown on his deeply weathered face, for unknown to Saul, Samuel knew all too well who he was. The prophet would gladly have searched for the stupid beasts, even if it took a whole moon, rather than do what he now felt forced to do.