Short Stories

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Prologue



“I do not want to die today!” thought the old man as he came crashing into the Tabernacle. The Levites glanced up from their work in surprise. Then, after getting a good look at who the old man was, the three men finished their task and left as quickly as they could. The old man could tell that they were very nervous in his presence; that was fine with him, their discomfort was the last thing that he was worried about. The showbread left in front of the altar sure smelled good though. His stomach growled and he had to laugh at himself a little. Only a man who had spent a lifetime as a soldier could be worried about food when Death waited just around the corner.
He walked over to the washbasin and leaned over it to start washing the dust and grime off of his face. The washbasin, like every other fixture that he could see, was made out of gold. Everything in the Tabernacle was of the finest material, but still did not hide the fact that it was a tent. It made him think of wandering, and the nomadic nature of his people. “If not for David, we would all still living in tents,” he thought, as he paused to look at his reflection in the water.
The water showed him a face surrounded by a wild, tangled beard. His dark olive skin had been turned to shoe-leather by years spent in the sun. His hawk-beak nose had been broken more times than he could remember, and he could not tell if his skin had more scars or wrinkles. His black eyes glared back at him from the water, almost hidden by his bushy gray brows. Finally his gaze was drawn to his shoulder length gray hair. At the moment it looked like a wild animal had been sleeping on his head, and the old man chuckled to himself as he dismantled the nest that had been formed on his face and head.
After he had cleaned himself to his satisfaction, he began to look at his surroundings more closely. He thought, “A man should know the place he is going to die in,” knowing that it was something he was saying to himself to make his situation seem better. After walking around a bit, he sat down beside the altar and rested his head on the altar’s side. The sweet smoke from the burning incense mingled with the smell of the fresh bread to make him slightly dizzy. It also reminded him that he had not eaten in hours. He pulled himself up and walked over to the table where the showbread was kept as an offering to the Lord. After grabbing a loaf, he walked back over to where he had been sitting and began to eat.
Just as he had started to chew his first bite another man burst into the tent and hurried to the back. The old man recognized the priest who had rushed in and called out, “Abiathar! What are you doing?” Abiathar looked up and almost fell down when he recognized the old man.
“Joab! What are you doing in here? Adonijah is dead by Solomon’s orders!” Then, he grabbed a trunk from the corner and started putting items in it as fast as he could. First he grabbed a couple loaves of bread, followed by clothing and some personal effects. The entire time he was packing he was muttering to himself in a low voice. Still, it was quiet enough in the tent that Joab could here some of what he was saying. “Who does he think he is? I have been head priest longer than he has been alive! I faithfully supported and served his father and he removes me from the priesthood now? My whole life’s work has been poured out onto the ground. Still, thank the Lord he spared my life. I am surely better off than some.” Then, after a meaningful glance at Joab, he turned to walk out with his trunk. Joab hurriedly got to his feet and grabbed the old priest by the arm. “What do you mean?” Abiathar replied, “Look, before David died I heard him talking to Solomon. After they had talked for a while I overheard him telling Solomon to deal with you as he seen fit. Solomon has ordered Benaiah to kill you for the murders of Abner and Amasa!” Joab’s eyes widened slightly but then he collected himself. He knew that to panic would do him no good. “Abiathar, do they know where I am at?” Abiathar replied, “Joab, all I know is that Solomon has given orders for your death. I did see my former assistants on their way to Solomon’s throne-room. My guess would be he knows where you are now. Now please let me go. I have to leave while I still have a chance!”
Pulling his arm from Joab’s grasp, the former priest grabbed his trunk and fled from the Tabernacle for good.
Joab sat back down at the altar and tried to think about his options. Of course Solomon would choose Benaiah as Joab’s successor. Joab had mentored and taught him everything he knew about warfare and life. If Benaiah was hunting him there would be no escape. He cradled his face in the palms of his hands and sighed softly. How did he get into this position? All he had ever wanted was to serve David and Israel. He should have known better. The halls of a palace are not a place for a soldier to be. He closed his eyes and started to remember the path he had chosen for himself.

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