The shepherd has been leaning on his staff, relaxing, probably gaining confidence from my squabble with the General. But now, when I turn and begin to walk in his direction, he grabs his staff and holds it out in front of him with both hands. Like the slender wood will stave me off. Give me a break.
I stop when I'm no more than maybe thirty cubits away from him. There's no motion on the hill behind him, none of the usual darting from one tree to the next. At first, I think that the Hebrews have left, that they've abandoned this foolish youth to his doom. But then I realize that they are still there after all. They simply aren't moving. They're paralyzed by the drama unfolding before them.
Well, I'll give them some dialogue to remember.
"What am I, a dog?" I ask, mildly. "Is that why you're waving a stick at me?"
I can see that my conversational approach has confused the shepherd. Now that he's off guard, I'll blast him with a bellow that'll send him scurrying to safety.
"COME TO ME, YOU INSIGNIFICANT PEASANT!" I roar. He drops his staff and nearly falls over. "I'LL RIP YOU INTO SMALL PIECES! I'LL GOUGE OUT YOUR EYES AND THROW THEM TO THE BIRDS! I'LL TEAR OFF YOUR ARMS AND LEGS AND FEED THEM TO THE WOLVES! I'LL... I'LL..."
But a curious thing is happening: Even as I try to think of other gruesome fates to threaten him with, he recovers his composure. Within seconds he goes from terror to anger, I can see it flash in his eyes. And not only isn't he running away, he's walking toward me. And he has something to say.
"Who do you think you are?" he screams. Compared to my low rumble, his voice is as shrill as a bird. "You come to me with your... your sword and your spear" – he dismisses my massive weapons with a wave of his hand – "but I come to you in the name of the lord of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have dared to defy!"
Lord of... what? Hosts? What's he talking about? Has he gone mad?
"Today," he continues, more quietly, as an unnerving calm settles upon him, "today, the lord has brought you to me." He nods thoughtfully; this is starting to make sense to him. "I will topple you like a stout tree," he says, still nodding. "And then I will cut off your foul head."
"Listen to me," I plead...
But he's getting worked up again. "You would feed me to the animals? I will feed your entire army to the animals! All the world will see the power of the God of Israel! Your sword and your spear are nothing against the power of God! Nothing, do you hear me?" He shakes with religious fervor, and for the first time I truly understand what the General meant when he described these people as fanatics.
"THE BATTLE BELONGS TO THE LORD!" the shepherd screams, with a power that is nearly super-human. "GOD HAS BROUGHT ME HERE TO DEFEAT YOU! GOD HAS BROUGHT YOU HERE TO DIE!"
I feel sick. How can he hate me so much? What could possibly have happened in his young life to have filled him with so much anger? Surely, his mind has been poisoned by the warmongers among his people. Surely, if I can reason with him...
And by Dagon, that's just what I'll do. I'll approach him, we'll talk, I'll show him that my people are not so different from his people. He'll go back to his camp and I'll go back to mine; we'll force our generals to speak to each other.
And the Hebrews and the Philistines will live in peace for all eternity.
It's up to us. We can make it happen.
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©1996 Henry Charles Mishkoff