And so we listen to the General's plan, Father and Mother and me. The Hebrews are fanatics, he says. They refuse to even discuss an end to the fighting. They're sure that their one god is mightier than Dagon and all the rest of our gods put together. Why should they compromise when they know they're going to win? And the stand-off will continue until something happens to shake their confidence.
And that something, of course, is me. The General wants to take me to the hills of Socoh, to the valley of Elah that separates his soldiers from the forces of Saul, the Hebrew leader. He'll dress me in the finest armor and send me out to issue a challenge. "You'll dare the Hebrews to send out a warrior to fight you," he explains. "If their champion can defeat you, Philistia is theirs. But if you prevail, they will be our subjects forever. Of course, they won't accept the challenge. They'll be forced, finally, to talk peace with us."
Mother doesn't buy it. "But what if they do send someone out to fight? They're fanatics, you said so yourself. And Goliath is only a boy..."
"No one will challenge Goliath," the General says. "No one." He doesn't sound like he's arguing; he's just stating a fact. "They're fanatics, yes, but they're not fools. They don't want to die." He stares at Mother. "Do you honestly believe that any man would dare to stand up to Goliath?"
Mother meets his gaze and I can see that she wants to say: Yes, I believe that the Hebrews would do just that. But then her eyes flicker over to me, just for a moment, and when she looks back at the General the fight has fled from her. "No one in his right mind, perhaps," she says stubbornly, but without much force. "But the Hebrews might be crazy enough to do it. You said so yourself..."
"I'm sorry, General," Father says. For a minute, I think he's apologizing for Mother's rudeness, but that's not it at all. "I'm sorry," he repeats, "but Goliath can't go. It's out of the question."
"I don't understand," the General says. For the first time, he looks confused. "What do you mean?"
"The rains should start up any day now," Father says. "We still have a whole lot of plowing to do. We're just dirt-poor farmers, as you can see. We have no animals, no slaves, no servants. Goliath is all we have." He speaks proudly of me, which doesn't happen very often. I'm glad that it's dark enough to hide my red face. "He does the work of five men, two horses, and an ox, all by himself, I swear he does. We couldn't make it without him."
"I certainly don't expect you to suffer," the General says, nodding thoughtfully. "I'll arrange for five of my strongest men to be at your disposal until your son returns. And I'll provide you with two fine horses as well." He smiles. "And an ox."
"I spoke too fast," Father says. He leans forward and screws up his face; I can tell he's thinking hard. "You know, it would probably take more like ten men to replace Goliath. And three or four horses, and a couple of mules. And a pair of oxen, at least." He nods. "Yeah, a pair of oxen, to be sure."
I don't know exactly what's going on, but here's the way it looks to me: Father knows that this is real important to the General, so he doesn't want to flat-out turn him down, because that would be rude. So he's making these outrageous demands so the General will have to be the one to say no, and Father will get what he wants anyway, which is me staying at home. Pretty shrewd.
But when Mother groans and buries her head in her hands, I realize that I've got it all wrong.
Father and the General aren't arguing.
They're just negotiating.
"Done," says the General...
But Father isn't finished. "Don't forget how much we'll miss the boy. He's all the family we have." He flashes a warm and fatherly smile up at me, the likes of which I haven't seen in years. "Don't you think we deserve a little something for that?"
"I quite understand," the General says. "Will twenty pieces of gold help to ease your pain?"
"He's only a boy!" Mother is fighting tears. "How can you..."
"Silence, woman!" Father's face grows red and he thumps the ground with his fist. "I have spoken. It is settled."
"Not quite," the General says. "We haven't heard from Goliath yet."
"Goliath does what I tell him to do," Father says, in a huff.
"Oh, certainly," the General soothes. "I don't question his obedience. But I'm not asking Goliath to be a mere foot-soldier. I need his body, yes. But for my plan to succeed, I must have his heart as well. The final decision must be his."
Now they all look up at me, which makes me very uncomfortable. Mother starts to cry; when I look at her, she looks away. She thinks that I've already made up my mind, that I've decided to go.
But she's wrong.
"Can I let you know in the morning?" I ask the General. "Would that be okay? I need to think it over."
"Take your time, son," the General says. "Take your time."
Father stands and looks daggers at me, and he's about to say something, but then he gets up and stalks out of the barn without saying a word.
If I do decide to stay, I'll have to deal with his anger. And it won't be pleasant.
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©1996 Henry Charles Mishkoff