Short Stories

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Chapter One

It is now springtime in Canaan. The rolling hills and meadows are covered with a carpet of grass and wildflowers. In the valleys where the vegetation is lush, a flock of sheep move over the landscape like clouds floating across a green sky. Here and there milling groups of brown and black cattle can be seen. Some are eating fresh grass while others are chewing their cud in the shade provided by some of the larger bushes.

The forests as if afraid of being outdone, are also ablaze with color. The groves of olive and fig trees have all put on their spring clothing. Their flowers and budding fruit testify that it is time for new life in the land. Under the tree’s canopy, goats of all colors are foraging, keeping the undergrowth down. This is very useful for the harvesters when working the trees during harvest time. Brooks and streams could be seen making their way down the hill, providing water for both plant and beast. The water’s symphony provided background vocals for the birds as they sang all of their different songs and melodies in the orchestra of springtime.

However, all of this beauty cannot hide the scars on the land. The scars cannot be seen by the naked eye but they are there. It is a scar that can be seen on the souls of the people that live in the land, scars formed from over four hundred years of oppression. People keep one eye on the horizon as they work their land. They are looking for any signs of their neighbors. They know that as soon as harvest and shearing time arrives, the robbers will arrive in force to take anything away that is not hidden well enough. It had not always been this way for them. When they had first arrived into the Promised Land, they were a group of battle-hardened warriors under the command of Joshua, the son of Nun. They were following and obeying their God, The Lord God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. And the Lord honored their obedience by fighting fiercely for them, so that they crushed every Amorite king that stood before them.

But the Israelite army had grew tired from war, and wanted to settle in the land they had, instead of taking full possession of the land as the Lord had commanded them.
So the Lord grew angry and swore to them saying,” I WILL NOT DRIVE AWAY ANY MORE OF THE INHABITANTS HERE THAT JOSHUA LEFT WHEN HE DIED. I WILL USE THEM TO TEST ISRAEL AND SEE IF THEY KEEP THE WAY OF THE LORD AND WALK IN IT!”.

Then, after the generation that had knew the Lord and seen His miracles had died out, the people began to serve the Baal and other gods of the Amorites. So the Lord sold them into the hands of the other nations, to be oppressed and plundered as He seen fit. He sold them to lives of bondage, to teach them that He was the way to life. He sold them, until now.

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"Hey Asa, wait up!" Their legs churning, Joab and Abishai ran up the hill after their brother. Though instructed by their father to keep an eye on the herd of family sheep, the brothers were busy "taking the fortress". The "fortress was at the summit of the large hill that was in the middle of the family's property. It was far enough from the barley fields where their father Suri was working at that Joab was sure that they would not be caught and punished. Asahel laughed as he easily outran his brothers and made it to the hilltop first.

Joab gritted his teeth and quickened his pace. While dodging enemy chariots, Joab used his "spear" to kill as many enemy soldiers as he could on his way to the top. Arriving just a hair before Abishai, he flopped down under the branches of the nearest olive tree. "Asa, you know that we are supposed to stay together. Mom would kill me if I let anything happen to you." His brother snapped back, "Joab you are not dad! You do not tell me what to do! You are just mad because I beat you!" Joab pounced. The brothers began to wrestle and pummel one another while Abishai looked on with amusement. Asahel fought fiercely, but was no match for his older brother. He was as tall as Joab, but much more slender. At twelve, Joab was starting to take on the build of an adult. His thick chest and broad shoulders hinted of the power contained in his frame. Only a couple had minutes had passed before Asa was crying. Joab snapped, "Shut up, you baby!" and with one final shove, he got up off of his brother and sat in the grass. "We are brothers and we have to stick together. I have heard dad telling the field workers to keep a look out. There have been farms raided in this area. Besides, if you do not stay with us, you could be eaten by a lion, bear, or maybe even a snake.” Asahel furrowed his brow. “ I have not seen any lions or bears around here.” Abishai then spoke up. “I saw a lion yesterday morning, when me and Joab was at the brook with the flock. We started to run, but he just drank some water and left. But I am sure he is probably very hungry by now. You had better stick with us.” Joab grinned. He knew that he could count on Abishai to stick with him. Asahel being the youngest, he was teased mercilessly by his two older brothers. Truth be told, all three brothers were fiercely protective of one another. Asahel had an independent streak that sometimes caused him and Joab to clash, but overall, the brothers got along fairly well. They continued to laugh and play as the “iron chariots” chewed their cud and bleated contentedly to one another.
“So how did things go today?” Suri asked as he passed the plate of roast lamb to Joab. Zeruiah had prepared quite a spread for their late supper. The lamb had been cooked with a nice fig sauce. It was accompanied by fresh bread with wild honey, garden vegetables, and bowls of olives. Joab looked up and after swallowing his food replied, “Everything went well today, father. We watered the flock then just let them graze in the south pasture. The figs and olives are coming along well, I noticed.” As he was talking he shot a warning look at his brothers. Asa wisely kept his mouth shut. He knew if he told his father about the days events, he would pay for it later. All three boys understood that if Suri found out they had been playing instead of working, they all would be punished. “Joab, I need you to go with me into Bethlehem tomorrow. The wool merchant is there and we need to get rid of the wool that we have. I do not want to lose it to raiders.” Abishai looked up and asked, “Can we go?” Suri looked over at Zeruiah, who said, “I need their help tomorrow in the garden.” Suri smiled at the two younger boys and replied, “Well, you heard your mother, maybe next time.” The frowning boys turned their attention back to their plates.
After dinner, Suri settled back into his chair and sighed. After wetting his throat with a cup of wine, he began to tell stories. All three boys grew quiet and attentive when he began to talk. Joab loved to here about the different heroes of his people, from Moses to Caleb, who carved out a place to live for his tribe of Judah. Lately, his father had been talking about the different Judges, whom the Lord would use to deliver his people from the bondage of the surrounding nations. Tonight, Suri was talking about the exploits of Samson. As his father talked about Samson’s defeat at the hands of Delilah and how it led up to his biggest accomplishment, Joab listened with a wrinkled brow. If it was up to him, he would prefer to live through his greatest accomplishments. Samson sure could have used a little more brains and a little less strength. Joab liked to look at the girls when his father would take him into Bethlehem from time to time. Lately, he had even began to talk to them some. With his dark looks he had inherited from his Chaldean ancestors, he did not have much trouble getting the girls attention. But he knew for a fact that he had not met a girl yet that he would let tie him up. Before he knew it, Suri had stopped talking and pointed to the boy’s bedroom. Joab looked over and both of his brothers were fast asleep on the floor.
It seemed to him that he had just laid his head on the pillow when he felt his father’s hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake. “Come on son, get up!” Joab sleepily got dressed in his traveling robe and strapped on his sandals and the cloth that shielded his head from the hot Judean sun. After a quick breakfast of some goat cheese wrapped in a flatbread, he walked outside with his father and began to load the donkeys with bales of wool. The sheep had produced a great quantity of wool this year. The bales of wool will be taken into Bethlehem, where the wool merchant would purchase them and the other bales produced by all the farms in the area. The wool would then be loaded onto caravans and shipped to Tyre, Sidon and the cities of Philistia. There, it would be processed and dyed with the Tyrian red-purple dye and exported to Egypt, Mesopotamia, and all the other countries in the Mediterranean area.
About thirty minutes into the two hour ride into Bethlehem, Joab is bored. The donkey he is riding is in the middle of their train. It is lazily following the donkey in front of it. He tries to amuse himself by looking around at the scenery for awhile, but the unchanging Judean wilderness all looks the same, flat and brown. The waves of tall grass are only interrupted by small scrub trees. The hot wind off of the Salt Sea gently lifts his neck cloth and massages his neck with it’s fingers. All there is to see in front of him is another donkey’s rear end, and wool. The sway of the walking donkey gently lulls him to shut his eyes.
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The hot desert wind snapped his eyes open. “Sir, should I give the archers the signal?” The soldier looks at him expectantly. “They look like they are close enough now.” Joab wants to look around to see who he is talking to, but cannot move or speak. “Not yet! We need them closer.” The deep voice startled him when he realized that it was coming from his own mouth. Nodding his head, the soldier turns around and gazes toward the horizon. Joab takes the time to look around and try to figure out what is going on. The last thing he remembered was being on a donkey’s back in Judah. Now, here he was in a chariot in the middle of a sea of armored men. Glancing at the other soldier’s back, he is shocked by what he is shown by the polished bronze armor. A dark, powerful man stared back at him with eyes like black ice. Joab had never seen a cold, contained rage in a person before, and it made him shiver. Under the man’s bronze helmet he could see the shoulder-length salt and pepper hair. The man’s face was marked by a blade-like nose under which grew a beard to match his hair. The beard flowed off the man’s chin and reached the top of his armored chest. But even with the difference in age, Joab easily recognized himself. With that recognition came the knowledge of his current situation. He looked down in wonder at his knotted arms that were naked except for a few bracelets.
Gazing across the desert plain, He can see the reason for his rage. The opposing force was a formidable one. It was hard to guess how many men it contained, but Joab guessed around 100,000 infantry, backed with a least a thousand chariots. When they had marched within a hundred yards of the Israelite army, they stopped. At this distance he could clearly make out the details. They wore armor in the common style introduced by the Philistines. Their heads were covered with bronze helmets. Their torsos were protected by bronze breastplates, under which they wore a thigh length tunic. Bronze greaves were worn on the lower leg, with only the thigh exposed. But unlike the Philistines, the men of Edom wore trousers under their tunic, and had some other small changes to deal with the hot sun of the desert in which they called home. And every man in their infantry had a huge sword that Edom was famous for strapped onto his side. Behind the Edomite army, Joab could see the city that they were protecting. “Abishai, don’t fail me now,” he muttered under his breath. This could be a very close battle. The opposing army knew that there would be no quarter given, and would fight until the last man was dead. Which was his intention for them, so that fit very well with his plans.

to be continued...

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