Day of War by Cliff Graham Page A

of Mount Tabor. The two men who warmed themselves by this fire were dressed in the typical clothing of a soldier in the Israelite standing army on campaign: light wool tunics cinched up for when they put on armor before battle, covered with cloaks to ward off the surprise spring chill. They each had neatly trimmed beards. One of them was of noble birth and the other was a commoner, but they were talking and laughing like old friends.
    A young man named Eliam sat in the forest nearby, trying to listen to their conversation as he quietly stitched his tunic, damagedduring the day’s training. In his twenty-fifth year, Eliam was keenly aware that he was serving Yahweh’s anointed king only through the good graces of his well-connected father. It was an opportunity purchased by a great many head of cattle and not through any merit of Eliam’s. He had narrow shoulders, felt like he plodded awkwardly when he walked, and had not noticed any servant girls looking at him. In all, Eliam was unsure of his place both in the court and in society, but he had determined to make the most of any opportunity he was given.
    Eliam had been in the court of King Saul since childhood. He was not a slave or typical tent servant, spending his hours in menial labor. He was, more or less, an understudy to the various soldiers coming and going from the court. Eliam’s father wished him to become a great war leader, like the legendary prince Jonathan, in order to attain the highest positions of respect and influence in the kingdom.
    Eliam had been privileged several times to sit under Jonathan for instruction. Tall and strong, looking every bit the great hero he was renowned to be, Jonathan taught Eliam about the foreign alliances their nation faced—the tension with the Moabites, the tribal bickering between the north and the south, the bloodthirsty Amalekite frontier, the ever-looming shadow of the Philistine colossus.
    The lessons were grand and Eliam soaked them in, but they were remarkable for what they did not contain: any descriptions of the man David and the bond of brotherhood that most of the kingdom knew David and Jonathan shared. Whenever Jonathan began to describe a particular battle or encounter that Eliam knew involved David, the prince would catch himself and go silent or change the subject.
    It was David who dominated all comings and goings of Saul’s court, held at the tamarisk tree on a hilltop in Benjamite country, as it had been for forty years. Even though David had not setfoot under the tamarisk tree in a long time, everything about him seemed to be on Saul’s mind. Where was he? Who was sheltering him? How large was his army? The questions were tossed around war councils night after night. The generals, led by Jonathan and a brilliant commander named Abner, pleaded with Saul to leave David alone. There were far graver threats, they said. Philistia would eventually come at them with everything in its power, and the Israelites still had not learned how to forge iron to compete with them.
    At first, Eliam was not bothered by the king’s erratic behavior. He wrote it off as the stress of leadership and believed that Saul would eventually forget about David and come around. But as time passed, Eliam saw the king lash out unprovoked and ever more violently. Eliam heard things beyond simple screaming and shouting. He could swear that he’d seen strange images in the darkness of the royal house, heard voices and utterances from unknown and terrifying depths. He had sometimes seen the king stumble along the hallways, staring vacantly, talking with someone who was not there.
    David was in hiding, but that didn’t stop the people of the kingdom, many of them fed up with Saul’s irrational behavior, from choosing sides between Saul and David. Eliam had noticed that even the ever-cheery Jonathan had become morose. The presence of his own son sent Saul into rages. Eliam would often wake up late at night and hear the sounds of the king