Signs and Wonders (31 page)

Saul, coming out to his troops, heard these words. “Come here!” he roared.

David approached and knelt before him. “O great King,” he said, “you whom the Lord anointed and whose mighty deeds have fired the spirit of all Israel, I pray you, let me go out and fight the Philistine. The blight of fear has fallen upon your troops. Their hearts fail. I swear by the living God that I do not fear this giant and will fight him.”

“How can you go against this Philistine?” said Saul. “You are but a youth. He is a mighty man of war. Behold him; he is a giant. You are small even for your age.”

“I was tending my father’s sheep in the wilderness,” said David, “and a bear came. And a lion. I drove off the bear. And the lion snatched a lamb from the flock. I did not wish to cast a stone, lest it hit the lamb. And I grasped the lion by the beard and took the lamb from its jaws. Then I slew the lion. Yes, King, I swear to you that I slew both lion and bear. And this uncircumcised Philistine shall die in the same manner, for he has defied the army of the living God.”

“You are raving, my lad,” said Saul. “It cannot be. Look you, I have sought a man among my troops. I have tall men here, strong men, skilled at arms. I have offered great riches to the man who kills Goliath, and promised that he should marry my daughter and be like a son to me. But no one dares to meet the giant. They are afraid. And they have reason to fear.”

David said: “The Lord has delivered me out of the paw of the bear and the maw of the lion, and He will deliver me out of the hand of the Philistine.”

Saul looked into the lad’s eyes. Arrows of light seemed to come from those eyes. They pierced Saul’s heart, and he heard himself saying, “Go, then, and the Lord go with you.”

The king called for weapons and clad David in armor, put a helmet of brass on his head and a coat of mail. He gave David his own sword, saying, “This has tasted the blood of many Philistines. May it serve you well.”

David walked a few steps. He swung the sword. He could hardly move for the weight of the metal. He said to Saul: “I thank you, O King. But I cannot wear this armor or wield this sword. My fighting is a kind of dance. I do not know how to tell it. But I must go light-footed and with my own weapons, this staff and this sling.”

He cast off the armor and took his staff and sling, and knelt at the brook and chose five smooth stones, and put them in the pouch that hung at his belt. He said to Saul: “When you see me again I will be bearing Goliath’s head—or you shall not see me again. Farewell, O King.”

He departed. He went down the hill into the valley and climbed the hill where Goliath stood. Goliath saw the lad coming, this small, slender boy, clad in sheepskin, bearing a staff. He thought it was some mockery of him by the Israelites. He roared, “Am I a dog that you come against me with a stick?”

“I am a shepherd,” cried David. “I esteem dogs. You are no dog, but a beast more foul.”

“Come here, little one,” shouted Goliath. “Vulture and rat shall pick your bones.”

David said: “You come to me with a sword and a shield, but I come to you in the name of the Lord of hosts. Today the Lord delivers you into my hands. I will smite you and take your head from you and give your great carcass to the hungry vermin of earth and the birds of air, that all men may know there is a God in Israel.”

Goliath did not advance. He wanted the advantage of the high ground, and waited for David to come to him. Then David vanished. Goliath lost sight of him among the rocks, and thought the boy had fled. David kept himself hidden and climbed the hill out of Goliath’s sight. He was circling away, trying to get to higher ground and attack the giant from above.

Goliath laughed. He roared with glee. “So you have scuttled away, little rat. All you Hebrews are cowards, from the youngest to the oldest.” He pranced and clanged spear against shield. And he called across the valley, “There is not a man among you Hebrews, so you sent a boy. Now the boy has fled, also. I challenge you no more, for you are cowards. Today we attack! I will smite you and you shall flee before us. We will pursue you even unto your thresholds and destroy you all, men, women, and children, until there is no Hebrew left anywhere on earth.”

He heard a shout: “Goliath! Goliath! Turn, Philistine, and meet your death!”

He whirled to see David moving above him, coming toward him. He snarled deep in his throat, raised his shield, drew his sword, and walked slowly uphill in a fighting crouch. Even crouching he was enormous, and fearful to look upon.

David whispered, “Deliver me, O God, out of the hand of the wicked, out of the hand of the unrighteous and cruel man. A giant is arrayed against me. But your favor will magnify me, O Lord, and make me mightier than the giant.”

And it seemed to him that God answered only one word. It was like an eagle screaming, and the word was
yes.
He fitted a stone into his sling and began to whirl it above his head. The giant was trudging up the hill toward him. The sun glinted off his huge brass helmet. Goliath’s spear was the trunk of a tree, its point as long as a sword. David whirled his sling. He felt his whole soul launching itself out of his body and flying down the slope toward Goliath. Past shield and breastplate it darted and grappled in stinking darkness with the brutal, lardy soul of the giant. At that instant David cast his stone. It sped downhill and struck Goliath in the middle of the forehead, hit so hard that it sank into the bone of his head and stood out like a third stony eye. The giant swayed like an axed tree and fell face downward with a great crash.

David ran down the slope, skipping like a goat, caroling with joy. He stood above the fallen giant and took Goliath’s sword from his hand. He had to use both hands to lift it. He raised the huge blade and slashed down and smote off the giant’s head. He lifted the head toward the sky like an offering and cried, “Beloved God, you are my rock. You are my shield, my honor, my high tower, my refuge, my savior! Your word is my strength, your favor my victory!”

David ran down the hill and across the valley and up the other slope toward his own lines, swinging the head by its hair and shouting with joy. When the men saw him coming, when they saw the starry light streaming from his face, and realized that the head he bore was as big as a bull’s head and that his victory was a miracle—then they felt the spirit of God entering them and felt their own hearts grow hot with it. They raised a mighty shout and charged down the hill. They charged the Philistine lines. And the sun flashing off their swords was no brighter than David’s face as he watched.

“Rebuke the company of spearmen, O Lord!” he cried. “Scatter the people who delight in war.”

And the music of David’s praise pleased God more than the words of anyone since Moses. His favor shone upon the Israelites that day. They scattered the Philistines and pursued them. And slew them by the thousands and by the tens of thousands.

King Saul stood on the hilltop and watched his men penning the Philistines in the valley below. But he could not rejoice in the victory. Echoing in his ear was that first amazed triumphant yell of his men when they saw David coming with the head of Goliath. At that moment, at the very instant of triumph and joy, Saul’s heart was bitten by envy, and the envy festered into hatred.

David went toward him. He knelt before Saul and laid the enormous, bloody head of Goliath at the king’s feet.

Saul said: “Whose son are you?”

“I am the son of Jesse the Bethlehemite,” said David.

“You have done well, young man.”

“Done well?” cried Jonathan. “He is blessed of God and performer of wonders. His victory is a miracle.” The tall young prince swept David into his arms and kissed him, and those about the king raised their voices in a shout of approval.

“Father!” cried Jonathan. “You vowed that he who slew Goliath would marry your daughter and be as a son to you. Will you keep your oath?”

“Truly a day of wonders,” growled Saul. “I seem to hear a son instructing his father.”

“Pardon, O King,” said Jonathan. “But I want this lad to be my brother and share princely honors with me. For his deed this day has swept the enemy from our gates and preserved our land from the heathen hordes.”

“Thank you, Prince,” said David. “But all victories belong to the king. We are his subjects, and our hearts and arms belong to him.”

“Gently said,” said Saul. “Perhaps you can teach courtesy to princes, as you teach courage to kings. Do not return to your father, David. Stay here with me. I shall keep my promise and reward you as you deserve.”

The king turned abruptly and departed. “Come with me, brother,” said Jonathan. He was very tall and broad-shouldered, and his legs were columns of muscle. He was the best young warrior in all Israel.

David looked up at him and smiled. “I am yours to command, brother, elder brother. Will you teach me to use sword and spear, to ride the chariot and guide its swift horses?”

“If you teach me shepherd things,” said Jonathan. “To cast deadly stones with that little sling and to pluck sweetly upon the harp.”

“You recognize in me the harp boy who sang for your father?” said David.

“Come,” said Jonathan, “let me tell you what I know about you. And you shall tell me all that I do not know.”

The Outlaw

The two youths loved each other like brothers and more than brothers. Each delighted in the other’s feats of strength and daring, and there was no envy in either of them. The soul of David knitted with the soul of Jonathan; they were seldom apart.

One of the king’s counselors, a man named Doeg, knew that Saul secretly hated David, and saw a chance to curry favor. “Truly that little shepherd is puffed up with pride,” he whispered in the king’s ear. “He struts like a prince in the robes that Jonathan has given him, and tries to make people forget his origins.”

“He has made me forget,” said Saul. “Perhaps you had better forget them, too.”

But Doeg was a subtle man and easily read the king’s heart. He knew that Saul was pretending to defend David so that Doeg would continue to vilify him. “I am a blunt and honest man, O King,” he cried. “And my one wish is to serve you. Though you slay me for it, I must speak the truth as I see it.”

“Speak,” growled Saul.

“Yesterday you passed among the populace at the head of your troops, with David at your side. You were undoubtedly occupied by weighty matters of state and did not notice what happened.”

“Crowds cheered as I passed,” said Saul. “And women came singing and dancing to meet me. Aye, the fairest of them, they came to greet their king with taborets and with joy and with instruments of music.”

“Your generous nature did not allow you to hear what they were whispering.”

“Whispering? What did they whisper?”

“ ‘Saul has slain his thousands,’ they said to one another, ‘but David has slain his ten thousands.’ ”

That night, after Saul and his favorites had dined, David tuned his harp to play to the king. Saul sat watching him. He saw the lad’s flushed face musing over the harp strings. The blood pounded in his ears and became a voice: “Saul has slain his thousands, but David has slain his ten thousands.” The fury swelled in Saul’s head until he felt his eyeballs bursting. He seized his javelin and hurled it at David. Just then a harp string broke. The boy bent suddenly to it, and the javelin sheared the air where his head had been an instant before. As in battle, David’s reflexes were quicker than thought. He slid out of the room like a shadow. And Saul sat on his high seat and no one approached.

The king never offered explanations for anything he did, and no one dared question him. Nevertheless, as a leader of men he was attuned to the feeling of those he led, and when his spasm of fury had passed he knew that he had made a mistake. David had become a magical hero to the army, and the men were seething with resentment. David had vanished; Jonathan was nowhere to be seen. And Saul knew that if the youths quit the court, a faction would form itself about them, and resentment would ripen into rebellion.

Swallowing his wrath, Saul pretended to bend to the popular mood. He sent for David again, and set him high among his captains, giving him a thousand men to lead.

Doeg went to him and said: “Is this prudent, O King, to give David a thousand men? He will win their hearts with his sly, ingratiating ways and forge a weapon to strike at the throne itself.”

“For a son to attack his father is sacrilege,” said Saul. “He may be ambitious, the little jumped-up shepherd, but I do not think he is prepared to break a holy statute. I shall bind him to me in fealty by making him my son-in-law. I shall give him my daughter in marriage. My youngest girl, Michal, seems to have developed a sudden interest in harp music. Little fool’s mad for him. Well, he can have her.”

“Excellent,” murmured Doeg. “Generous … politic … profound and subtle. May I suggest a refinement?”

“You may.”

“You have dowered him royally by making him a captain and giving him a thousand men to lead. Now you must ask a groom gift, as is the custom.”

“Gift? From him? What can he give me? His shepherd’s crook? One of his father’s stinking sheep?”

“That is the point, O King. In tactful recognition of his humble means, you will ask him to supply out of his courage what his purse cannot.”

“A deed of valor …” muttered the king.

“Of exceeding valor. He prefers to fight against odds, apparently. Set a task to challenge the mettle of him who slew Goliath.”

“Dead enemies!” roared Saul. “What gift more fitting to a warrior-king from a hero son-in-law? The heads of two hundred Philistines slain in battle—that is the gift I shall ask. To slay two hundred of them, he will have to engage a force ten times as great.”

“And,” said Doeg, smiling, “the fortunes of war are uncertain, especially when you are outnumbered. It may be that a tragic circumstance will befall the young miracle worker.”

“Nevertheless, we are moving ahead of events,” said Saul. “I have not yet offered him my daughter, so I can ask no groom gift. I appoint you my emissary in this matter. Go to David, wise Doeg, and offer him the princess Michal as his bride.”