Joab in Crisis: A Re-telling

Joab in Crisis: A Re-telling of a Classic Tale

 
         The first thing he noticed was a biting cold. He blinked it back and tried to focus his eyes, but all he could see was the black. Black sky. Black Earth. It would have been like floating if not for the hard ground beneath him. His fingers clawed at the ground, but it would not yield and he could not pick himself up. A hard lump formed in his throat and his stomach began to churn unnervingly. Suddenly, he felt himself sink into the ground. The foundation around him began to crackle and pulse and the speed of his descent began to increase. Droplets of sweat were pouring down his face and burning his eyes, but he tried to force the panic down. Suddenly, he felt something grab at his spine and he was furiously wrenched the rest of the way into the earth. His eyes were on fire, his nose and mouth filling with salt. All his senses were filled with salt and the panic began to grip him. . .
 
         “Commander! Breathe! The battle is won!” The darkness gave way to a piercing light, then a shock of cold water choked him and he sat up, coughing. “Commander Joab, you’re lucid? The battle was fierce, but we managed to repel the Ammonite forces. Look about you sir! The sons of Israel yet stand on this land.”
 
         Joab blinked his eyes. He began to make out the shapes around him. Men, both standing and fallen, surrounded him as far as he could see. The overpowering taste of salt was still imbedded deep in his throat and he spit a mouthful of phlegm onto the dry land. “Thank you, soldier. I don’t know what came over me. I dreamt, and what I saw was very real. No matter, send word to the King! News of this victory should reach his ears immediately!”
 
         “Yes, my Lord.” The soldier took his leave and headed toward the battlement. Tents had been set up and fortified in preparations for the battle. This wasn’t the first and would be far from the last. Joab looked about him. He could see for miles in this desert. This was home, and he would sacrifice much more in order to secure the nation of Israel. Dreams or no dreams. Joab looked down at his blood-encrusted hands and he realized that the tinny taste of blood was replacing the salt-taste in the back of his throat. He fell to his knees and prayed to the Lord. That was when the news came.
 
         His men had been battling thirst and hunger with dwindling food provisions for the past fortnight. The draught has only served to make things exponentially worse and this, more than the battles, has been taking its tolls on the lives and morale of King David’s forces. As commander, Joab has been forced to slake the thirst of his men with prayer and promises for additional rations. Now, like an answer to all of these prayers, Joab spied 20 large carts making their way towards the battlement. Provisions! Enough to last a month! Not a moment too soon, either. Joab gathered his generals and went forth to meet the wagons. He was greeted by the oncoming men with a goatskin full to bursting with clear, delicious water. The men rejoiced and began to carry boxes and barrels into the battlement. In the midst of this, Joab was approached by a messenger who came with the provisions.
 
         “Thank the Lord, good messenger! We are saved!” Joab greeted him and patted his shoulder.
 
         “Aye, the King sends his love and gratitude for the efforts of you and your men Joab. He also sends word.” With this, the messenger handed to Joab a rolled papyrus, marked with the seal of King David.
 
         “Eh, what’s this,” asked Joab. “The King has a personal need of my services?”
 
         “Indeed he does Commander. That message was given to me with much haste and urgency and it was instructed that it make its way only to you. It is only for your eyes.” The messenger’s brow furrowed.
 
         “I thank you, messenger. Good night.”
 
         “Goodnight Commander Joab. Rejoice!” The messenger made way to prepare for his homeward journey. Joab unfurled the papyrus and scanned its contents. Suddenly the eyes of his Generals were all on him. “Well, men. Go and get your fill of food and water! It is now time for rest.” With a heavy, collective grumble the Generals left him in solitude. When he was sure of this, he didn’t hesitate to open the papyrus and pay closer attention to King David’s burning words. At these words his eyes widened and a drop of sweat seared its way down his face. He felt a familiar sensation in his stomach and he knew it was from the dream. The message didn’t say too much, but Joab could sense a scandal and this was a scandal in the making! The King wrote that there was trouble concerning the wife of Uriah the Hittite and that he needs to make his way back to Jerusalem immediately.
 
         Joab knew Uriah and his wife Bathsheba well. Loyal though the Hittite may be, and beautiful though Bathsheba may be, he knew their affairs would hardly raise the concern of King David himself! Unless there was some other reason—some trouble that he was involved in. With years serving King David under his belt, Joab felt he knew just what that trouble probably was, especially if they involved the wife of Uriah. The War Effort could ill-afford such a blow to morale as this potential scandal could create. Uriah must be sent to King David at once.
 
         Joab raised his eyes to the sky. It was near dusk and the firmament was streaked in ribbons by rivers of crimson—eerily reflecting the bloodstained desert ground below. The air smelled of burnt hair, steel, and—to Joab’s sudden awareness—salt. What of the behavior of King David? The Lord will sort this out; Joab is not the King’s Keeper. The most important thing, first and foremost, is the endurance of the Nation of Israel—home of the Chosen People. So Joab spared no time in making transport ready for Uriah. In times like this he will need a small regiment of men to accompany him to Jerusalem. Then Joab sent for his officer. This officer will have the business of alerting Uriah to the situation and making sure he readies himself. Joab decided it would be unwise to tell Uriah himself. It will be strange and suspicious if Uriah got such news from the Commander. All must seem very natural.
 
         Within three hours, Uriah was on a nightly journey to the house of King David.
 
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
 
         Five days passed before Joab saw Uriah the Hittite again. No news had reached his ears about a scandal in that time, so he forgot about the whole ordeal and focused all of his attention on his military campaign. The draught was showing no signs of relenting, but thankfully their provisions were holding up very well. They had a city to take, but this city was fortified by a great wall. The disaster of the battle a Thebez became full and clear in Joab’s mind. They must not repeat past errors. It was when Joab was concerning himself with these matters that Uriah was given leave to enter his tent.
 
         “My Lord, I have made my return from Jerusalem.”
 
         “Ah, Uriah!” Joab spread his arms and embraced the Hittite. “How is Bathsheba then?”
 
         “I am sure she is well, My Lord, but I did not go see her.” Uriah’s gaze dropped momentarily. “I supped with the King for two nights and then made my way back the day after the second night.” He looked back into Joab’s eyes. “I could not bear to leave my comrades in arms for much longer than that. King David brings word for you, My Lord. I shall bother you no longer.”
 
         “Nonsense, Uriah, you are no bother. Let me see this message.”
 
         Uriah produced a papyrus and handed it to Joab. “The King says it is for your eyes only, Commander. I must make my leave now, My Lord.”
 
         “Very well, Uriah. Go, rest, and conserve your strength.”
 
         Uriah bowed low and exited the tent. Joab looked down at the papyrus. The sand particles seemed to electrify around him and the day suddenly got much hotter. The papyrus was just like the one he received five days ago. The seal of King David appeared to scream at him and to glow phosphorescently. Suddenly Joab felt unable to breathe and dropped to one knee. He began to cough up thick chunks of phlegm. It had a very strange consistency—grainy, coarse. Joab’s pulse raced—it wasn’t phlegm at all, but salt in his saliva; repulsive, unbearable amounts of salt. As quickly as it had begun, though, it was over. Joab remained on his knees and caught his breath. Something very wrong is taking place. Reluctantly, he got up and read the instructions from King David.
 
         All of his horrors were justified. Israel’s King had sent Uriah unto Joab to deliver his own death warrant—and to make Joab himself the executioner in the process. This was criminal! Evil! Uriah had always been trustworthy and loyal. A model soldier and boon to the cause of King David. Just what had happened in Jerusalem to sentence Uriah to death? He dined with the King two nights and then got sent back delivering this message himself. What could warrant such an act? For the King, this must be an act of self-preservation. Not preserving his life, but his title, his power, his Kingdom.
 
         Still, Joab had been trained in the art of war since he was a child—he could never refuse a direct order from the King himself. It would be unthinkable. Equally unthinkable would be to disobey the order of his uncle. King David, brother to Joab’s mother Zeriah, was his uncle and he couldn’t betray his family. He must carry out these orders, even if he suffers eternally for this crime. Joab lit fire to the papyrus, watched it burn, and dropped it before the fire reached his fingers before retreating into his mind and meditating upon this dilemma. He knew what he must do.
 
---------------------------------------------------------------
 
         In one week’s time Joab placed Uriah at the head of a small invasion of the accursed walled city. It was a suicide mission and every man on board must have known it. They were valiant men willing to give their lives in service to Israel in the name of King David. The very thought made Joab choke on more salty saliva. He had been getting waves of this type of nausea over the last week, and he was certain it was a sign of the Lord’s anger against this conspiracy. The conspiracy now coming to fruitation, as Joab supervised from afar the doomed legion approaching the city walls. The entire operation lasted no more than eight minutes. 27 men laid, shot dead, upon the ground outside the wall before the fated throng mounted a retreat.
 
         Among the dead was Uriah the Hittite, an arrow protruding from his throat and the tan earth stained crimson in a circle around his body. The sky abruptly turned a much darker shade of blue.
         Joab reflected on how this was the worst catastrophe in Israeli Military history. King David will surely think the same thing. Joab sent for his messenger.
 
         “Yes, My Lord?”
 
         “Aharon, when you go to King David with your report on this campaign and he grows angry from this abysmal loss; when he asks why we charged so close to the wall knowing they would shoot us down; when he compares it to the disaster at Thebez when an invasion on that city was halted by a single woman smiting her invader with a piece of millstone; just make sure you tell him that Uriah the Hittite is one of the fallen.”
 
         “As you wish, Commander. I will tell the King of Uriah’s death.” The messenger made his way to prepare for the rush to the house of the King as Joab contemplated his deeds. He scratched at his forehead and throat before suffering another coughing bout, this one worse than before. The coughs came so strongly that he had to kneel while coughing. He will pray on this tonight, but what’s done is done. He was, after all, just following orders. If the messenger follows his request correctly, he will probably receive accolades from the King for his wretched attack on the city.
 
         Sand flew across the surface of the ground in dreamy waves. Joab usually calmed himself by following the pattern made by the sand, but he was only reminded of salt this time and had to turn his eyes away. The sky was cloudless, threateningly dark at this unnatural hour, and it filled Joab with a deep sense of a malevolent presence watching over him. How is the sand flowing so without a breeze?
 
         Joab’s brow furrowed and he decided to retire himself to his tent for the day. There is no more to do now. Joab went to bed trying to convince himself that the death of Uriah was necessary for the persistence of Israel, but suffered another bout of vivid nightmares.
 
         As time passed, so did the drought. Provisions were holding strong and the war effort was going better than expected. The nightmares persisted, but Joab’s waking hours were spent fully invested in the job at hand. No one seemed to question the debacle that claimed the life of Uriah the Hittite. Morale was actually quite high. Word had come from abroad that King David took another wife and she bore him a son. The boy was almost immediately struck with a deadly illness, which he succumbed to after seven days. Everyone was renewed with a sense of nationalism in the wake of King David’s tragedy. Joab, however, knew this must’ve been the Lord’s retribution for their crime, and he wondered if his own punishment was waiting on the horizon.
 
----------------------------------------------------------------
 
         “Drink up, Cousin! This is a glorious day for King David has graced his Warriors with all this fine wine!” The flagon erupted red wine as the dark, formidable hand slammed it onto the table. The battlement was absolutely replete with post-battle debauchery. Rows of barrels of the wine had arrived that afternoon from Jerusalem as a special thank you from King David to his loyal troops. The air smelled rank with sweat, sawdust, and the drink. The smell of salt was gone from the atmosphere. The crash of flagons and roars of laughter made normal conversation impossible. Joab gave his cousin a nod of thanks and began to down the warm wine with a deep craving. He saw little to celebrate. The victory this afternoon seemed no different to him than a thousand before it. Blood was still thick and raw on his hands—it was just another day’s hard work. Still, the wine was especially bitter this night.
 
         Joab’s cousin took a seat next to him. “Cousin Joab, you mustn’t stare so. Surely your nightmares have come to an end? Join the merriment!”
 
         “Merriment? We have another day of the same to look forward to tomorrow, Amasa. I see no reason to pounce around like a pregnant goat.”
 
         Amasa could only laugh. “You are always thinking of your duties Joab! Do you really think all this is about the battlefield? King David expects us to celebrate the birth of his new son!” Amasa stood again and raised his flagon. “To Solomon! Heir to the King of Israel!” He tipped the flagon to his lips and emptied it, and then he took his seat. He moved closer to Joab’s ear. “Solomon’s birth marks the end to your pain, Joab. I see that as a cause of celebration, now hold steady while I go refill my cup.”
 
         Joab gave a smile in return. Amasa was right—since news of Solomon’s birth reached camp, his nightmares have ended and the phantom taste of salt has left his throat. Praise Solomon, indeed. King David finally has blood of his loins that he can look upon with a real father’s pride; beautiful in the eyes of the Lord. Joab had learned that the wife King David had taken was none other than Bathsheba—the woman that he had made a widow. Joab was completely certain that their dead first son was conceived while Uriah the Hittite was still drawing breath. There was no question that the child was struck down by the wrath of the Lord for the sins of the father. The father—and those of the commander of his army.
Joab had spent every night praying for forgiveness for their crime. King David must have done the same if he was to be blessed with Solomon—a young and very healthy son. Perhaps that forgiveness would also be shone on Joab.
 
         Joab looked over the din and saw Amasa struggling with his flagon through the mass of drunken, singing men. The floor, saturated with spilled wine, is providing further obstacle. Joab laughed to himself. He had taken his cousin into his confidence with what he has done and what he has suffered over the past year. Amasa has proved a wonderful confidant and has helped Joab remain a peerless leader through his crisis. Joab’s eyes filled with love for his cousin and he took a long drink from his cup.