Jephthah: Chapter 2 & 3

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Chapter Two

Jephthah was cold, and his body ached. Whatever strength and resilience had flowed into him during the vision was gone now, and he felt every bruise and cut that Zephon laid on him the previous day. He’d spent the night outside of the village, eaten nothing, and slept little. After his conversation with his father, Jephthah wasn’t sure that he ever wanted to go home again. And after humiliating Zephon, he wasn’t sure that he had a choice. Though he had beaten Zephon once, and felt sure he could beat him again, he knew he was no match for all five of his brothers at once. So, since he couldn’t go home and had nowhere else to go, he spent the night curled up at the base of a pine tree just south of Tabbath.

Hunger drove him back by mid-morning. He didn’t think he would run into his brothers or father. Most of the villagers spent the day making repairs after yesterday’s raid, and today they desperately needed to tend their fields and flocks. Tabbath appeared to be deserted.

However, just as Jephthah was convincing himself he was in no danger, he felt a stabbing pain in his left arm. He didn’t realize what had happened until he looked down and saw a jagged, fist-sized rock lying on the ground with a streak of blood on one edge. He then heard three or four more rocks land near him in rapid succession, and he heard another hiss past his ear. Before he could react, he thought to himself: How could anyone throw a rock that fast? Then he turned and ran.

Taking off before he knew where the attack was coming from, Jephthah ran straight toward his brothers. He was only a few paces away when he finally saw them, and they were each preparing to throw their next stone. In the instant that it took Jephthah to change direction, he saw the surprised and startled expressions on their faces. Their quarry ran straight for them, leaving them unsure of what to do. But Zephon screamed at them all, “Get him!” breaking the temporary spell. They all hurled their stones and all five missed.

Jephthah sped away from them, and they gave chase throwing rocks as they came. He could see stones flying past him, and he could hear them thudding all around. Finally, one struck him just above his left heel. No bones were broken, but it made him limp, and though he knew that his brothers would be on him soon, he needed to stop for a minute to recuperate. Tabbath provided virtually no cover since the homes were nothing but a collection of lean-tos and animal skins draped over wood frames. But he was approaching a tent that used an immense boulder as its rear wall. As he ran, he watched a stone fly past him. He plucked it up as it rolled to a stop and darted behind the boulder. He then popped out from behind it and threw the rock at his oncoming brothers without even taking time to aim. He didn’t hit anyone, but a stone hurtling through their midst gave them pause. They stopped about thirty paces away from where Jephthah ducked back behind the boulder.

Jephthah knew that he didn’t have long before they got him. They would probably split up, come around both sides of the boulder, and surround him. He looked at his arm. It was bleeding but not badly. He felt the back of his leg. It was very sore, but he thought he’d be able to run despite the pain. As Jephthah was evaluating himself and trying to think of what to do next, he heard a rock whistle through the air, hit the boulder that he crouched behind, and shatter on impact. No one could throw a stone that hard. It could mean only one thing.

“Hear that, ben-zuna?” yelled Zephon. “I brought the sling.”

That explained why that stone hissed as it passed his ear. Zephon had used the sling, and he hadn’t missed by much. Jephthah suddenly felt cold. That rock would have killed him, and that’s what Zephon meant to do now.

“Maybe you didn’t hear it. Here comes another one,” called Zephon. Jephthah heard branches snapping and Zephon cursing as the stone careened through the trees far off to his left. But a few seconds later, another rock hit the boulder. This one glanced off the top and soared skyward, whining as it flew. “Get hit with one of those and it’ll knock your head right off,” Zephon taunted.

If they meant to kill him, he had to drop at least one or two of them and get away. He grabbed a stone and listened. Zephon had stopped taunting. That was bad. They were probably approaching. Yes, he heard it, the soft crunch of sandals on gravel. He adjusted the stone so that it nestled into his hand, curling his middle finger around its contours so that it would release smoothly. He needed to have his arm reared back and ready to throw before he stepped out, and he had to throw it as hard as he could with no hesitation. In one motion, he stepped and threw, acquiring a target even as he was beginning his throwing motion. In the instant that he was exposed, he saw all five of his brothers stalking towards him, and they were only about fifteen steps away. He saw them all throw a stone at him, but their throws all came a fraction of a second after his, and the hail of rocks arrived after he’d already taken cover.

Even as he released his stone, he felt instant regret for what he’d done. He saw too late that the brother he was throwing at was Ozni. Jephthah had dodged back behind the boulder just as he saw his rock about to hit his youngest brother high on the left cheek. Now he could hear Ozni wailing in pain and wished that he’d hit any of the others. Ozni only tormented Jephthah because his brothers goaded him into it. Under different circumstances, Ozni and Jephthah could have been friends. Now he could hear Ozni sobbing inconsolably.

Not only did Jephthah feel sorry for Ozni, but he also knew that he had not improved his situation at all. Ozni was the least of his worries, and if the rest weren’t planning on killing him before, they certainly would be now. He started to stockpile a few stones, but then he heard them coming. No stealthy footsteps this time, they were charging in full speed. He broke cover and ran.

Jephthah tried to keep a few tents between him and his pursuers, but he was soon in the open. He was running east, out of the village, towards the forest. A few rocks fell around him, and he heard a whirring sound as a slingstone went by. But since his brothers had to run to keep up with him, they were off-balance as they threw, and most of their stones were well wide of the mark. He was only a bowshot from the edge of the forest when a stone finally hit him in the small of the back. It hurt terribly, and for a terrifying moment, he thought he would fall. But he kept his feet and made it into the woods.

The last fifty yards leading up to the trees was uphill and Jephthah was thoroughly winded. But at least he was now in a defensible position. Rocks were sparse among the trees, but he quickly found a few and sent them whistling down toward his brothers. There were only four of them now because they had abandoned Ozni in the village. Two of Jephthah’s throws were near misses. The third caught Ezbon in the shin. They halted and withdrew to a stone’s throw from the trees. They didn’t know that Jephthah had a limited supply of stones, and the marring of Ozni’s face was still fresh in their minds.

Zephon was incensed that Jephthah had escaped without serious harm, and he began to sling stones into the trees. Jephthah stood with his back to a big pine. He could hear stones crashing into the trees around him, and he saw one tear a gouge out of a tree just an arm’s length away. It left a pale gash in the bole of the pine, and white fibers spraying out where the bark used to be. Jephthah thought of how lucky he was that the rocks that caught him in the leg, back, and elbow had been thrown by an arm, not launched from a sling. The racket of the stones slamming into the forest and Zephon’s insults that came with them was unnerving, but Jephthah knew he was relatively safe. His brothers would not likely catch him if they decided to give chase, and Zephon was not known for his marksmanship.

After Zephon finished his assault on the forest, he called out, “Listen, ben-zuna, you’re not welcome back here… ever. Understand? We’ll kill you if you show your face around here again. So go back to your people, ya Ammonite bastard.”

“They’re not my people,” Jephthah yelled back. “Gilead’s my dad too!”

“Maybe, but you’ll never have a thing to show for it. We won’t be sharing any of his herds or land with you. And if you ever come back…” Here Zephon slung another stone, this time hitting the very tree Jephthah was standing behind. Jephthah felt a tremor run along the trunk from the impact. Zephon should have quit then, but he slung another stone and missed the tree badly. He tried to hit the same tree several more times, never coming remotely close to hitting his mark. Nevertheless, he felt that he had made his point and led his brothers back to Tabbath.

Jephthah waited a long time to be sure they were truly gone. Then he began to wander through the forest, not sure where to go. He steadily made his way up through the trees east of Tabbath until he reached some outcroppings of stone where the trees thinned. It was a steep, arduous climb, and once he reached the largest outcropping, he sat with his back to the chill stone. He sat there for a long time, long enough to watch the shadow’s edge creep towards him along the ground as the sun approached its zenith. He guessed that he had about half an hour of shade left.

He could try to go back to Tabbath. He felt sure that if he told his dad everything Zephon had said and done, Gilead would protect him. He might even punish Zephon for the day’s violence. But, as he’d said, Gilead wouldn’t always be around, and Zephon had probably been encouraged by his mother, Teenah, who had always despised Jephthah. Not to mention, after the damage Jephthah’s stone had done to Ozni’s face, maybe even Gilead would no longer want him around.

But even as he realized that he could not go back to Tabbath, he saw that he had nowhere else to go. Gilead had a brother and two sisters in a nearby village, but Jephthah had no idea what their names were or which direction the village was in. His entire life had been spent within a day’s walk of Tabbath. He had no knowledge of what was beyond the outlying orchards and pastures. All that he knew about the place he lived was that it was called “The Land of Gilead,” it was east of the Jordan River, and Ammon was somewhere even farther east than that, above the hills and into the desert.

Maybe that’s where he should go. All his life, he’d wondered about this strange place that the Ammonites came from. Now it turned out he was one… sort of. They were the source of fear and hunger, but now he was linked to them, and had been for his entire life. What would it be like to go see them firsthand, see how they lived? Maybe he could somehow track down his mother. Or maybe he could spy on them and come back to Israel, wander along the Jordan and fall in with another tribe, telling them everything he’d learned. He decided he’d go east.

Readjusting his position against the stone, he slid down so he was lying with his head propped up comfortably. And, having decided where he would go next, he finally felt able to relax for a little while. The sun had found him, but the coldness of the stone had crept into his aching body, and the warm rays were delightful. His mind wandered. He saw the land of the Ammonites: a wild and lawless place. Bands of raiders roved unchecked through the towns. Battle cries, screams of terror and loss were heard everywhere. And he, Jephthah, moved about unnoticed from place to place. He struck down and killed Ammonite warriors whenever he found an advantage, steadily arming himself. He grew in stature and knowledge. He learned warfare and sallied forth against the Ammonite raiders. He became the protector of Israel, roaming through the hills and borderlands, falling on the bands of raiders without warning, and the mere mention of his name caused every Ammonite to shake with fear.

Jephthah woke hours later, sore and feverish. The sun had lulled him to sleep, but it had then beaten down on him throughout the day and was already sinking in the west. Despite having just woken, he felt like he needed to go back to sleep, and he wanted nothing more than to find some shade and curl up once again. But he felt a sense of urgency that he needed to begin his quest. It would be dark soon, and before he left it forever, there was one last thing to do in Tabbath.

 #

Jephthah crouched behind a cart next to Shimei’s tent. It was a dark night with only a sliver of moon to shed light on the village. It was perfect. He wished he could see a little better, but it was even more vital to remain unseen. He’d waited for nightfall before he dared approach Tabbath, and even then he scurried from shadow to shadow.

He couldn’t leave without telling Shimei where he was going and why he couldn’t stay. Aside from the village itself, Shimei was the only thing that Jephthah would miss. He had to wait outside Shimei’s tent for over an hour before Shimei came out to relieve himself.

“Shimei,” he whispered.

Shimei jumped a little, but he’d suspected that Jephthah would contact him eventually. “Where’ve you been?” he asked.

“Just up in the hills,” he said. “Zephon and the others tried to stone me.”

“I know.”

“Is Ozni okay?”

“Yeah, we think. He’ll have a scar for life though. How about you?”

“Couple bruises and cuts, that’s all.”

“What are you going to do now?” asked Shimei.

“Leave.”

“East?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Jephthah was surprised that Shimei knew where he was headed, since he himself was not entirely sure of why he would go east.

“And you want me to come too?”

“Well… if you want to.”

Jephthah had been hoping that Shimei would come with him. As he trekked over here, he had decided that he would ask him to come along. But now, huddled in the lee of a cart on a cold night, being careful to stay in the shadows, the idea seemed ludicrous. Jephthah had spent last night under a tree; he had nothing to offer Shimei. Just a few paces away was Shimei’s family tent. Inside were the glowing embers of a fire with his mother, father, brothers, and sisters lying around it. Staying meant safety and warmth. Going with Jephthah was exile, hardship, maybe death.

And yet, Shimei sat out there with Jephthah, hunched down on the ground, sifting dirt through his fingers, flicking pebbles at the tent flap, thinking about his own reasons for leaving Tabbath behind. Soon, he’d be expected to train as a priest like his father and brothers. But when he was just eight days old, a priest had made a small mistake with his knife, just a tiny slip. There was no serious damage, but the small cut was noted, and it meant he would never be allowed to make the sacrifices of atonement. He was tainted, only fit for common toil, not sacred rites. Shimei always knew that his destiny was elsewhere, somewhere far from these ramshackle tents and the endless cycle of planting and harvest. As they crouched there in the darkness, Jephthah knew that his friend was considering two paths, one leading back to a cozy fire and a blanket still warm with his body’s heat. The other led to darkness and danger, but no one out there would wonder why he wasn’t following his family’s tradition. No one would know him. 

“There’s nothing for me here anyway,” Shimei finally said. “Wait here a minute.”

Jephthah waited as Shimei crept silently back into his tent. When he reappeared, he said, “I got a couple things for us.”

“Shimei,” called his mother from within.

“Let’s go,” he whispered.

“Shimei?” she called again.

They ran eastward out of Tabbath. For the first few minutes, they could hear the shrill cries of Shimei’s mother as she pleaded with him to come back. Shimei hadn’t told her what he was doing, and it wasn’t the first time he’d slipped out in the night, but somehow, she knew he was gone.

Once they’d put some distance between themselves and the village, they stopped for a short rest. “I thought you might be leaving, so I put this stuff together.” Shimei held up a small satchel. “We got a knife, waterskin, flint. Some salt.”

“No food?”

“No.”

“I haven’t eaten in two days.”

“Well, we’ll get some meat tomorrow,” said Shimei. “Tonight, we can just eat grapes and figs.”

“Grapes,” muttered Jephthah. For the past two days, he’d been so worried about Zephon that he didn’t even think of just pilfering the orchards. “Where do you plan to get meat?” he asked.

“I have a plan,” said Shimei. “I think you’ll like it.”

 #

The night that Jephthah spent alone in the woods had been the most miserable of his life, but everything changed once Shimei was with him. They’d gone to the nearest orchard, filled their bellies with the sweet fruit, and carried off as much as they could manage. Then they started a fire beside a small creek a half hour’s hike away from Tabbath. Far into the night, they made grand plans of how far they would travel and who they would conquer. But due to their ignorance of anything more than a day’s hike from the village, their plans were vague and usually revolved around raiding and plundering weaker parties. As they laid down close to the embers of the fire, Jephthah had never been so thankful for Shimei’s friendship. But he never said that. Instead, he told Shimei that he was glad to have him tagging along.

In the morning, they went ahead with Shimei’s plan. He’d reasoned that since Jephthah would receive no inheritance from Gilead, he was justified in taking at least a small portion of what should rightfully be his. Jephthah needed very little convincing, and by the fourth hour, they were lying in wait to poach one of Gilead’s sheep. The two were crouched behind a stone outcropping watching Gilead’s flock as it meandered around the pasture nibbling at anything green. The outcropping was just a few paces beyond the edge of the forest, and they planned to wait until the flock drew close, call to the sheep, and lead one of them away. It was risky but not impossible. As the outcast of Gilead’s sons, Jephthah was stuck with shepherd duty more often than not, and the sheep knew his voice. But as they surveilled the pasture, Jephthah liked the plan less and less.

“Zephon is shepherding,” he whispered.

“Probably in trouble for chasing you off yesterday.”

“Maybe we should raid another flock.”

“They won’t know your voice.”

“But he’ll have the sling with him,” Jephthah protested.

“Zephon couldn’t hit the Jordan if he was standing in it waist-deep.”

“Still…”

“Anybody guarding sheep is going to have a sling, Jephthah.”

“But not everybody wants me dead.”

“Look, think of it this way, if we do this right, it will look like Zephon just let a sheep wander off. He’ll get in more trouble. He’ll probably have to shepherd for a month straight.”

“All right,” Jephthah said. The thought of Zephon shepherding for a month was very appealing.

It seemed like an eternity before the sheep wandered close enough for Jephthah to risk calling out to them. Just when it seemed as though the flock was headed in their direction, it would veer off to the right or left, or even back the way it had come. But eventually Jephthah was able to call to them softly. He watched Zephon for any sign that he’d heard, but Zephon was resentful about having to shepherd and was being almost purposefully careless. Still, Jephthah called so quietly that only a few of the sheep’s ears twitched at the sound. One of the older ewes that Jephthah knew well soon broke off from the flock, responding to her master’s voice. Once she drew alongside the boulder, Jephthah and Shimei sunk their hands deep into her fleecy sides and pulled her out of sight. The ewe let out one small bleat before Jephthah could calm her. Shimei took a nervous peek at Zephon and said, “He didn’t even notice.”

“Next time he turns the other way, we need to get her out of here,” said Jephthah. Both knew that even if Zephon didn’t see that one of the ewes was missing, the rest of the flock soon would. In fact, they were already looking around nervously, sensing that something was amiss.

“He’s turned,” said Shimei.

Shimei led the way towards the trees while Jephthah guided the ewe beside him. He hunched over, whispering to the ewe, trying to keep her calm. They only got a few yards into the trees before the ewe began to bleat, refusing to be consoled. The flock was now quite agitated, and even Zephon couldn’t help but notice that something was bothering them.

“We’ve gotta kill her now,” whispered Shimei. And Jephthah had only an instant to regret that it had been this ewe—one of his favorite animals in the whole flock—who had responded to his call before Shimei expertly stabbed his knife into her throat and pulled the blade across the artery. She only managed one last panicked bleat before she bled out.

They didn’t have enough trees between themselves and Zephon to be out of sight, so they each grabbed one of the ewe’s hind legs and dragged her away as quickly and quietly as they could. Between the two of them and the unwieldy ewe, there was a clamorous snapping of branches and crunching of twigs as they blundered through the trees, but the rest of the flock assisted in their escape. When they heard the high-pitched death-bleat, they set up quite a din of their own, and Zephon heard nothing but a chorus of baas.

Jephthah and Shimei were sure that Zephon would count the sheep and come looking. The swath of blood and broken branches left a trail a blind man could read. He’d be on them in seconds. They hauled frantically, each amazed at how heavy the old ewe was and how often she got snagged. It was as though the ewe was not dead but alive and possessed of hands rather than hooves—hands that latched on to every branch and stalk as she was dragged away from the flock. It was hours before they were convinced that they were out of peril. What they didn’t know was that, far from doing a headcount, Zephon had merely cursed the lead ram, beaten him with the rod, and sent the flock into another part of the pasture.

“This has to be the fattest ewe east of Jordan,” said Shimei. “Should be good eating.”

“She’s a bit old. Might be tough,” Jephthah said, still panting.

“Maybe we’re still too close to cook it, but I think we can at least clean it.”

“Yeah.”

By gutting the ewe and removing the head, Jephthah and Shimei reduced its total weight by about half. Deciding it’d be easier to carry it between them on a pole, they found a suitable branch, lashed the ewe’s legs together around it, and set off again with Jephthah in the lead, Shimei behind, and the sheep dangling between them. “Good day for the birds,” Jephthah said as they left the gut-pile behind. A crow swooped greedily out of the surrounding trees, letting out a loud wah-wah to tell others of its find.

The ewe was still awkward and heavy. The branch dug into their shoulders, and they switched the pole from right to left frequently. But their progress was much faster than before, and they were in high spirits.

“How far do you think we need to go before we camp?” asked Shimei.

“I don’t know,” Jephthah said. “Have you ever been down to the Jabbok?”

“Once.”

The Jabbok River was a tributary of the Jordan south of Tabbath, and they’d been traveling south for most of the day.

“How much farther is it?” asked Jephthah.

“I don’t know. This isn’t the way we came. But it took less than a day that time.”

“I say we make for the Jabbok and go upstream a ways. Follow it till we find a good spot.”

They heard the Jabbok before they saw it. Though it wasn’t running high, it still cut a noisy path through the trees over its rocky bed. As they emerged from the trees and saw the frothy water, they dropped the sheep, ran down the banks, and leapt into the river. For about a quarter of an hour, they forgot their hunger and fatigue. They wallowed in shallow pools, slurped up water like camels, and splashed around like toddlers playing in water for the first time.

After this brief frolic, they hefted the pole on to their shoulders again and headed upriver. The water enlivened them, and the next hour passed quickly. When they arrived at a place where the trees sloped gently down to the water’s edge, they left the river and walked about a bowshot into the trees. They found a small clearing to spend the night. Shimei worked at getting a few twigs blazing while Jephthah gathered firewood. Soon, the little fire snapped and cracked eagerly, the resinous pine burning fast and hot. But it was still a long time before they had a glowing bed of coals suitable for cooking the sheep, and by the time they roasted two flanks of ewe, the boys were ravenous. They barely noticed their lack of herbs to flavor the meat.

After they gorged themselves, they discussed their plans.

“Do we know how far it is to Ammon?” asked Shimei.

“No,” replied Jephthah. “But I heard raiders sometimes use camels to cross the desert.”

Shimei nodded. That was bad. Using camels meant the Ammonites likely had a long journey through the desert to reach Israel. “I heard someone say that it was only a day’s hike to the edge of the desert.”

“Do you think there’ll be ibex in the desert?”

“I don’t know,” said Shimei. “Why?”

“We’ll have to hunt for food.”

“Even if there are, we don’t have anything to hunt them with.”

“Maybe we should make a spear,” Jephthah suggested.

“I don’t think we could get close enough to kill an ibex with it. Maybe a bow.”

“Yeah, but we don’t have the stuff to make a bow.”

“Well, let’s make a spear anyway. I suppose there’s got to be something we can hunt in the desert.”

They settled on making the spear in the morning and lay down beside the campfire. They started to discuss the spear’s construction, but they were both asleep after no more than a few sentences. The day’s work left them exhausted.

They slept soundly, neither of them very concerned about venturing into the desert. Their combined knowledge of the surrounding world was limited to this: Israel had twelve tribes that stretched from Dan to Beersheba, most of these were west of Jordan, Gilead was east of Jordan, and east of Gilead was the desert. They had no concept of what distance separated these places. Dan and Beersheba meant nothing to them. They were exotic, distant lands they’d heard about in stories out of the Torah. The word “desert” formed no picture in their minds. Having grown up in the pine and oak forests of Gilead, they couldn’t imagine the miles of barren, rocky hills, or the heat-baked flats that extended beyond what the eye could see, and they knew nothing of the desert sun: the malevolent god that would bleed the life out of them with its relentless heat. So the boys slept on, blissfully unaware that the desert waited to swallow their lives like two drops of water on dry sand.

Chapter Three

They stared at it in disbelief.

“Is that it?” asked Jephthah, hoping the answer was no.

“Must be.”

“Where are all the trees?”

“I guess there aren’t any.”

Until Jephthah and Shimei stood looking into the fringe of the desert, they’d been picturing a land only slightly different from their own. Now they gaped at something they had never seen before: a wide plain devoid of trees or mountains. What they saw was gravelly hills covered with small stones and boulders. No trees, just the odd low-lying shrub made up the vegetation. They had never seen such a landscape, nor had they ever seen the effect of a relatively flat horizon: both sky and land appeared far more immense without mountains in the foreground. The boys could feel their insignificance in the face of such an enormous expanse.

“Do you still want to do this?” asked Shimei.

“You know I can’t go back.”

“But we could go somewhere else. South along the Jordan, or we could even cross to the west side.”

“I need to see Ammon,” said Jephthah. “I’ll go alone if I have to.” Jephthah had intended to sound brave, but he didn’t. Even though he offered Shimei this opportunity to stay behind, he hoped more than anything that he wouldn’t.

“Jephthah, I’m coming with you, and we can live wherever, but I need you to promise me one thing,” Shimei said.

“What?”

“That we’ll always remember the God of our fathers: Yahweh Elohim.”

“Yeah, sure,” agreed Jephthah.

“I mean it, Jephthah. They have other gods out there. No matter how long we’re away, we can’t forget we are Israelites.”

“Okay.”

“Promise.”

“I promise.” Jephthah knew this was important to Shimei as the son of a priest. But Jephthah had never been very concerned about religion, so the agreement seemed a small price to pay for a companion on his journey. As for Shimei, he knew that Jephthah had made the promise lightly, but they had the desert to deal with, so he let it rest as they trudged forward.

Their mood was much more somber than it had been for the past three days, which had been spent preparing for the journey. The day after they’d killed the ewe, they realized that they would not be able to carry very much of the meat with them. So they decided to eat as much as they possibly could and dry and salt the rest. While the meat cured, they foraged up and down the river for wild berries and nuts. Neither of them found very much until they wandered into a tended grove.

“Hey! Look at this,” Shimei shouted, “there’s a bunch of ripe grapes over here.”

“I found some too.”

They began to pick grapes by the cluster and gobble them by the handful.

“You wouldn’t think that so many would grow together like this,” said Shimei.

And at that moment, they both saw the evidence of careful pruning and the unnaturally ordered layout of the branches and vines.

“We’re in someone’s vineyard,” Jephthah whispered.

“The grapes are ripe. Someone’ll be picking today.”

“If they’re not already.”

“I mean… we are allowed.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s Torah: when in your neighbor’s vineyard, eat all you like, but put nothing in your basket.”

“You think someone’s going to stop and look for a basket when he sees two kids eating his grapes?”

“Probably not.”

“Besides, I got the satchel chockful already.”

They both listened. They heard nothing but the calls of birds and the less frequent chitters of rodents. However, fearing discovery, they slipped quietly out of the vineyard and made their way back upriver, though not without plucking another armload of grapes each.

They were more careful to watch for signs of people after that, but the following days were still little more than a game for them. Back at their camp, they fashioned a crude spear using a stone for a tip and a reasonably straight branch for a shaft. Jephthah had found a stone that was approximately the right size and shape for a spearhead along the riverbed. They used another rock to chip away at the head until it was balanced and sharp, slit the end of the shaft, inserted the head, and tied it fast with a strip of leather. Both Jephthah and Shimei knew that the project was far more amusing and diverting than it was practical. When they practiced with the spear, it proved to be hopelessly inaccurate and ineffective. Jephthah managed to make it strike fast in the bole of a tree once, but that was it.

After they had made the spear, dried some strips of ewe, and glutted themselves on grapes, they marched steadily up the Jabbok. Since the river flowed mainly from east to west, it took them along the right heading, or at least, what they thought was the right heading. They encountered villages along the way and skirted them without incident. Not only were they not questioned but no one paid them any heed at all. As they climbed the hills of eastern Gilead, the trees and river steadily thinned. They camped their last night in Gilead where the trees ended. To their west, the sun set behind the green, verdant Jordan Valley. To their east, the sun’s rays lit the rounded, treeless hilltops a brilliant orange. They did not know what lay beyond those hills, but their knowledge of the world had led them to believe that by descending the far side of them, they would encounter another forested area.

As they gained altitude, they’d seen several places where a branch of the river came from the south to join the Jabbok. One of these was the Jabbok River proper that leads directly into Rabbah: the capital city of the Ammonites. But only knowing that Ammon was “to the east,” they simply followed the tributaries that came from that direction. The river they followed withered to a stream, then a trickle, and eventually ran dry. The shallow crease in the land that they followed to the top of the hills left them staring at the outer fringe of the Arabian Desert.

“It doesn’t feel right, does it?” Shimei said.

“It’s as though we’ve left the world, or something.”

“What will we eat out here?”

“What will we drink?” was Jephthah’s rejoinder.

“I don’t think we’ll be able to cross this.”

“The Ammonites do.”

“But they have camels.”

“Yeah, but even camels must have to drink at least once or twice a day. Right?”

“I suppose.”

It was just before midday, and they knew by the direction of the sun that continuing east meant walking directly into this alien landscape. Without any backup plan as to how they could get to the land of Ammon, they struck out due east. It wasn’t like any journey they’d been on before with no trees, valleys, or mountains to block the way. It was a straight ahead march with no landmarks between them and the horizon.

They weren’t strangers to hard toil in the heat of the day, no boy from Tabbath was. But they’d never experienced the unrelenting sun of the open plains. It sapped strength from both body and soul. They walked in silence until the sun began to sink behind them.

“Want to stop here for the night?” asked Jephthah.

“Yeah,” Shimei said. “Oh, no!”

“What?”

“How do we start a fire?”

They just stared at each other. Despite their initial shock at the desert’s lack of trees, they never considered how that would affect their nightly campfire. Looking at the westering sun, they realized that they were in trouble. They began searching for anything that might burn. As darkness fell, they’d not found a single twig.

“I sure hope the nights are hot out here too,” mused Jephthah.

“I don’t think they are. Have you noticed how much cooler it’s gotten already?”

Jephthah had not. But once Shimei brought it to his attention, he noticed that even in the few minutes since the sun had dipped below the horizon, the temperature had dropped considerably. “What should we do now?”

“I don’t know. Lay down back-to-back and try to stay warm through the night, I guess.”

On that first night, Shimei and Jephthah discovered that the desert is a land of extremes. It was so cold that the heat of the day became a distant memory. Jephthah tried to recall the way he’d felt at midday, the sun high overhead, the heat dominating body and mind, but he merely shivered uncontrollably. He knew that if he ever hoped to get to sleep, he needed to focus on something other than the cold. “Tell me a story, Shimei.”

“What?”

“Just tell me one of the old stories. I don’t care which one. Please.” Shimei knew every tale of the Israelites by heart. He’d heard them from his father since he was an infant, and when he recited them, it was with all the authority of a priest reading from the Torah itself.

“Okay.” Shimei thought for a moment. Then he began.

“When the children of Israel first saw the Promised Land, they had good reason to trust in their Lord and Creator: Yahweh Elohim. He had just freed the people from Egypt, where they had spent four hundred years in slavery. The Lord had used his servant Moses to visit ten plagues on Pharaoh: blood, frogs, gnats, flies, pestilence, boils, hail, locusts, darkness, and the death of the firstborn. Then, when Pharaoh pursued them across the desert, Yahweh divided the Sea of Reeds for them so that they could cross on dry land. He then guided them on their journey, providing a pillar of fire by night, and a pillar of cloud by day. And for their sustenance, He gave them bread from the heavens and streams in the desert. These wonders should have given them an unshakable faith in the Lord their God. But it did not.

“When the Israelites traveled through the wilderness of Paran, the Lord told Moses to send twelve men ahead to spy out the land: one man to represent each of the tribes. For forty days they explored the land, and on their return, they reported what they saw to Moses. Joshua of Ephraim and Caleb of Judah said that the land coursed with milk and honey. They spoke of grape clusters so big that it took two men to carry them. And they were certain that this was the land that Yahweh had prepared for them.

“But the other ten spies saw no blessings. Only obstacles. They said the land could not be taken, for it was already occupied and well-fortified. The men who guarded it were tall and strong, and the descendants of the Nephilim walked among them.”

“What are Nephilim?” asked Jephthah, even though he knew.

“Towering warriors who stand a full arm’s length taller than a normal man. They wield enormous swords and cast spears the size of small trees. And it is said that they are the abominable spawn of angels and men.

“When the ten spies gave this report out among the people, they quailed and refused to take the Promised Land. Joshua and Caleb beseeched the people, reminding them that they themselves had witnessed the wonders of God: the plagues in Egypt, the pillars of cloud and fire, the bread of heaven. But Israel did not heed the two; they listened only to the ten. The people then turned on Moses, asking him why he could not have left them in the land of Egypt instead of delivering them into the hands of the Nephilim, and they threatened to stone him.

“At this, the Lord’s anger waxed great and he would have killed them all were it not for his faithful servants Moses, Aaron, Joshua, and Caleb. They begged the Lord to show mercy. And so, the Lord made a compromise. He would not destroy the people of Israel, but He delivered this sentence: not one of them that saw the miracles in Egypt, and still did not trust the Lord to give them the Promised Land, would live to see that land. Their bodies would litter the Desert of Sin during a forty-year sojourn. They would all die and their children would be the ones to inherit the land. Only Joshua and Caleb would be spared this fate.

“Once they heard this sentence, and they saw that they had offended Yahweh, the Israelites repented of their folly and decided to attack the Canaanites. But this was more folly yet, for the Lord was not with them, and they did not send the Ark of the Covenant ahead of them. They were routed and they fled before the Canaanites. But despite all of this—the people’s lack of faith, their arrogant assault, and their continued disobedience—Yahweh kept His covenant with them. He sentenced them to forty years in the desert, but He still guided them, and gave them bread from heaven, and provided them with streams in the desert.”

Jephthah had heard the story before, but he’d never really thought about “bread from heaven” or “streams in the desert.” He thought they could use a bit of that now, maybe the pillar of fire too. He wasn’t in the habit of praying, other than a few that he had to repeat from time to time on feast days. But lying there, cold and desperate, he thought that it couldn’t hurt. He even tried to mimic Shimei’s storytelling style in the hope that it might help conjure up a miracle like it did in the old days. Muttering half aloud and half in his mind, Jephthah prayed: “Lord Yahweh, deliver us from this place, as you did our ancestors. Send us the pillar of fire. Give us the bread from heaven and the streams in the desert.” His mind wandered as he pictured a tower of flame descending from the sky, and his weariness took him into a fitful sleep.

Shimei was not aware of when his friend was no longer listening. He was exhausted himself. But he knew the story well, and his lips continued to describe the conquest of Canaan until he fell asleep himself somewhere around the second siege of Ai.

 #

The morning was not a pleasant one. Shimei and Jephthah had only gotten a short and restless sleep. When he awoke, Jephthah was a cold bundle of limbs and tunics. He was utterly miserable lying there, aching and cramped, but the prospect of rising seemed equally wretched. So he just laid there for some time before he slowly stood up and paced around in a vain attempt to warm himself.

There was just enough light in the sky to discern the eastern horizon. The sight still looked very strange to Jephthah. With only a few low-lying hills varying the landscape, it seemed to him that he must be seeing all the way to the earth’s end. Just looking at his surroundings made him uneasy, so he checked their supplies.

He opened their bag and hefted the waterskin.

Shimei rolled over and asked, “How are we doing?”

“Bad. We ate too much.”

“How about the water?”

“We drank too much too.”

“Well, we walked pretty far yesterday,” said Shimei, getting up and looking east. “How much longer do you think it could take?”

“I don’t know. It’s weird out here. It’s like you can see forever, but there’s nothing there.”

“I was thinking: It wouldn’t make sense for the Ammonites to ride more than a day or so to come raid us, right?”

“I don’t know. I guess so.”

“So, if we can make about half the distance that a camel can make in a day, then it should only be another day of walking until we get to the other side of this.”

“Makes sense.”

They ate most of the food they had left before setting off on the day’s journey and soon learned that there are no transitions in the desert. As the sun rose in the sky, the boys went from too cold to too hot almost instantly. Once again, Jephthah and Shimei hobbled along silently and miserably. Jephthah fell into a rhythm, staring straight ahead, moving one foot after the other, and muttering his prayer from last night under his breath. Over and over, he said, “Deliver us. Give us bread from heaven, streams in the desert,” leaving out the pillar of fire since he felt like he was standing in the center of one. He recited the mantra until the words lost their meaning and he became unaware of his surroundings.

From dawn till dusk, neither Jephthah nor Shimei perceived any sign of civilization. They searched the eastern horizon for the outline of a building or town and found none. All day, they had hoped to see some change in the landscape, some sign that they were making headway through the desert. They found none. If anything, the land was becoming more flat, barren, and dry. Eventually, when their shadows grew into sharp, thin giants pointing their way east, they realized that they would be spending another night.

Shimei said, “We need to start looking for something to burn tonight.”

“Yeah, we probably should have been looking all day.”

They had not seen anything that looked like firewood for the last two days. But they had seen several dead-looking bushes. Shimei found one of these knee-high, withered shrubs and pulled it up out of the ground. It put up surprising resistance; the plant was more root than anything. As the sun sank, they continued to search, finding a couple more bushes, two twigs, and the bones of a small rodent.

“This won’t keep us warm through the night,” said Shimei. “Couple hours at most.”

“Do you think we should start it now or wait till later?”

“I say we wait till we’re half frozen and then light it.”

“’K.”

They waited until the evening chill had their teeth chattering before they lit the fire. They watched as the fire consumed their fuel supply in about half the time they had hoped. They burnt the shrubs and the twigs. They broke apart the pole of the spear and burnt it too. It had long since become a walking stick anyway. They even stacked the bones they had found onto their little blaze. Shimei said the bones wouldn’t burn like wood, but they would glow like coals, and they would probably keep some heat in them as the rest of the fire burned down.

“We’re going to die out here,” said Shimei.

“Yeah, I guess so,” said Jephthah.

“The water’s gone. The food’s gone.”

“I’m sorry,” Jephthah said.

“It’s okay.”

“You were right. We never should have left the river valley.”

“Too late for that now.”

There was nothing else to say. They curled up around the dying fire and tried to sleep. Jephthah did not request a story that night.

In the morning, all that was left of their fire were some scattered ashes and a little heap of bones. The latter were no longer white, but gray. They had retained their shape in the midst of the fire. The skull seemed to stare at them as they hurriedly broke camp and continued eastward. It didn’t take long to gather their things since the only possessions they had left were the empty waterskin, the satchel, the knife, the flint, and one rancid strip of ewe. Jephthah divided the strip, and they ate it as they plodded on.

Around midday, Shimei fell for the first time. He simply pitched forward and laid there without moving. Jephthah just stared at him for a moment before grabbing his shoulder and shaking him. Almost immediately, Shimei was roused. He apologized, got up, and they continued on their way. Jephthah was not feeling very well himself and Shimei’s fall startled him. He had felt himself stagger several times. His proud stride had decayed into a shuffling gait, and he knew it would not be long before he needed someone to pick him up. He began to wonder what would happen when they both fell, but he never had to find out.

They stumbled onto their deliverance in the early evening. As they started to descend the eastern side of a low ridge, Shimei saw two men and three camels not far in front of them. “Jephthah, look,” he said, shaking Jephthah’s shoulder and pointing. Jephthah smiled and nodded, but he’d entered the first stages of delirium and wasn’t certain of what they were celebrating. The tiny caravan was little more than a bowshot away, but it was moving quickly. Shimei knew that they would have to hurry to catch them. He coaxed Jephthah into a run—more of a quick hobble—but they still couldn’t close the distance.

Shimei tried to call out for help, but he was extremely dehydrated, and he had not used his voice much in the past few days. All he managed was an inarticulate, mournful groan. He tried again and croaked a short, “Hey!” that carried to the man leading the three camels. The man spun around, strung a bow, and nocked an arrow with incredible quickness and dexterity. He had already drawn and aimed before Shimei realized what was happening.

Panicking, Shimei raised his hands, “No!” his voice cracked. He coughed painfully and tried again. “Friends… please. Help.”

However, staring down the shaft of his arrow, the traveler had already evaluated the two of them and decided not to shoot. He lowered his bow, carefully unstrung it, and exchanged a few words with his companion.

When he saw that he was not about to be shot, Shimei tugged on Jephthah’s arm, and they walked toward the travelers. Jephthah didn’t need much convincing now. His mind had begun to clear, and he realized that they were about to be saved. As they approached the two men, Shimei thought to himself that they must have been from a different tribe of Israel.

They looked like any two men from Gilead, but they were dressed strangely. They seemed overdressed for the desert to Shimei, wearing headdresses and long robes that fell right to the ground. The tall one who had drawn on them was bearded and the shorter man was not. They were probably father and son. The father now held a staff instead of a bow, and he spread his arms in a friendly gesture as they drew closer. He kept repeating a word that sounded like “Welcome,” and yet not quite the same.

Then Shimei said, “Sir, help us. Please. We’ve had no water for days. Please.” The man smiled and he seemed to understand. He said something to his son who then took a bulging waterskin out of one of the camel’s panniers. He gave the skin to the man who held it out and again gestured for them to come forward. His warm expression could have been that of one of their own uncles. And, as they drew closer, it looked as though he were ready to embrace them. But as Shimei was about to reach out and take the water, the man deftly tossed the skin back to his son, grasped his staff in both hands, and brought it whistling down on the crown of Shimei’s head. Shimei instantly collapsed into a pile of flesh and rags.

Jephthah was confused at first, but it took only a second for him to instinctually turn and flee. He took only half a step before the staff cracked across the back of his skull. All went black as he fell headlong. He felt neither the impact of the staff, nor the gravel on his face as he plowed a short furrow before skidding to a halt.