Read Online The Secret Chord by Geraldine Brooks - Free Book Online

were organized and united under their
serens
. But we did not fight as one people in those days, and so we were weak.
    And then the day came when the Plishtim routed us completely, penetrating deep into our territory, killing thousands and capturing the ark of the Name. They carried it away deep behind their lines to their chief city, Ashdod. The ark, the very soul of our people for five hundred years. Yah himself had instructed Moshe in its design, and the artist Bezalel had crafted it—the acacia wood lined and clad with purest gold; the hammered figures of the cherubim, cunningly wrought of one piece with the cover, their raised golden wings outspread, sheltering the tablets of the Word that lay within. It was our chief treasure: precious and beautiful, sacred and powerful. When our priests carried it onto the field of battle, the tips of the golden wings caught the very light of the sun, and sent up such a blaze as struck awe into our enemies and gave heart and strength to our own fighters. It worked for us then, as it does now, as a mighty weapon. We look at it, and remember who we are: the people of the One, the children of the great Breath of Life. We recall that the ground on which we fight has been promised to us, and always a new frenzy boils in our blood. The power of the idea swells like a great wave—you can feel it pulse within you, around you. The army becomes one with this idea, and then we break upon the enemy with mighty force.
    But that one time, the force was not enough, and the very ark itself was lost. The woe of it sucked the heart out of us. When a messenger brought the news to our high priest and chieftain, Eli, he fell back in his chair and died on the spot. All glory seemed gone with the ark fallen to our enemies and housed, as we heard, in their heathen temple beside their idol, the grain god Dagon, as if it were just any other trophy of war.
    That was when the talk began that we must have a king, as othernations had, to lead us in battle. It was talk born out of a heartsick desperation, the fruit of utter despair. Shmuel warned the people against it. He said that a king would be a yoke upon freedom and a charge upon our purses. He, of course, was famed for taking nothing from the people, not so much as a sandal strap or a sheepskin. But as he grew old, and his sons began to take over some of his tasks, they proved corrupt. And so the clamor for a king grew. Moshe’s law had allowed for the possibility of a king, and in the end, Shmuel gave way. He found Shaul, tall and handsome, and anointed him, just as the people demanded. Shaul, at first unwilling, accepted his destiny and grasped it with a hard hand. He united the people with threats, butchering oxen and sending the pieces to each of the tribes, saying that if they did not join him and fight, they would be butchered just so, in their turn.
    Shmuel, perhaps still not reconciled with the very idea of kingship, drove Shaul hard. It seemed he could do nothing right; Shmuel held him to measure with a harsh rod, and neither Shaul’s worship nor his warfare met Shmuel’s mark. Even the victories against the Plishtim did not satisfy. Instead, Shmuel proclaimed that the Lord of Armies commanded total war be made on the Amalekites, in retribution for ancient grievances. Nothing was to be spared. So, Shaul made war, and routed them, and captured their king. But in the aftermath of battle, when the soldiers were used to take spoils, Shaul wavered. He feared rebellion from his troops if he denied the accustomed rewards after such hard combat. So he allowed them to keep the best of the flocks for themselves. When Shmuel arrived and heard sheep bleating in the pens, he castigated Shaul for disobeying. “As you have rejected the command of the Name, so he has rejected you as king,” he declared, and turned to leave. The king, pleading for forgiveness, reached out and grasped Shmuel’s robe. It tore in his hand. “So has the