Gibborim

I shouldn't have said that. Not to him. And not in front of her. I'd known him since we were boys. Who do you think taught him how to use a sling? Still, I shouldn't have said it. Friendship counts for something though, that's why I'm down here with David's Mighty Warriors. (And who thought that up, hey?) David's a bright guy, but he's no business man. He doesn't know from public relations, might as well be a Philistine, I used to tell him.

They're all glaring at me now. Especially the Hittite. I've never liked Uriah. Can't stand Hittites in general, tell the truth. Still, maybe he'll leave it to the rest of them. Can't imagine what I said about his wife upset him too much, everybody knows. David thinks sending him off to fight will leave the field clear. We'll see. Or some of us will.

We're a long way under the Palace. The walls are damp and the air is foetid. What do I expect, surrounded by the Great I Am's finest. 30 of the finest warriors in all Israel. Or 37, or 3, depending on which account you believe. Propaganda, that's the stuff. I get the scribes to write about 3 defeating one hundred and your enemies think twice. Less probable that, if it's thirty against one.

Besides, who do you think made up the one about Heber's wife putting the tent peg through Sisera's head. History is what the latest guy to write it says it is. Even a Bablylonian would know that.

So. What to do? David probably thinks I'll beg. Maybe that's why the muscle is holding off. Be funny if his ear was to the door or his eye to the crack in it. I hope so. We all know what happened over Susannah. Who's the leader? That's the thing. Oh yes, David says it's Uriah, but that's guilt. A sop to his own conscience. Not many brains here at all. Elhanan ben Dodo of Bethlehem: that's a long name for someone whose vocabulary numbers less than the words in it. Attractive girl, his wife. David thinks so. About the sling, maybe Dodo did teach David, but I was there. Most of these guys have good-looking women at home, now I think about it. That's one thing that wasn't my idea.

I look around at the swarthy Netophathites, shifty Shalbohites and star-struck Carmelites that make up the King's Bodyguard and wonder at their smell. Do all soldiers smell so bad? I've never been this close to so many all at once. 31 of us in a room no larger than a six cubits by six. That's about six amot al amot. Put it this way, my corpse will be standing up.

Well, this is no good. Got to talk to someone, who will it be? Ahitophel? They say he has a head rather than a gourd, unlike so many of them. No. There are rumours that he is the damned woman's grandfather. So what if I started them? They might still be true. It's true that my brothers died on Gilboa and that Jonathon did not come back. Yehonatan did, but that's another story. One of mine too. I have been allowed to tell any story at all, except the one about David and I. Now it's looking bad, I wish I had told the Israelite nation about the birthmark and what the King of Kings liked to do with his best friend. Maybe that's what's with all the women, it's not for me to say.

I discard Jonathon ben Shamma on the grounds of his name. It's an unlucky one, isn't it? The sons of Jashen are arguing which of them will cut off my jewels and force them into my mouth , so I pass on those two. Eliam? Son of Ahithophel. I don't think so. Blood is thicker and all that. They're all getting restless, waiting for someone to tell them what to do. I wonder who that will be. I don't want that person, though. I want the one whispering in his ear before he does. Someone like me, in fact.

Who's that? Whoever he is, he's looking at me closely. If I didn't know better I'd... Truth to tell, I do know him. Although he's one of the Mighty Warriors he spends an awful lot of time at court. I have joked with Big D about him. 'Look! It's the Army Liaison Officer Plenipotentiary'. David uses plenipotentiary as a joke. Nobody with Plenipotentiary in their official title has any power in Jerusalem at all. Joab. That's it, that's his name. No wife. Wedded to the state, they say. Whatever, he's a pretty weedy guy to be part of the Gibborim, I've always thought. I mean, that sword. Like an expensive toothpick, all rubies and only likely to kill if you shove it through an eyeball.

An argument breaks out between three Ithrites and someone from Beeroth over whose grandfather was at Jericho when the walls came down. Good job for Joshua's reputation I rewrote that one.. A ram's horn, meshugganah. People believe that stuff too. There's a squelchy sound as an Ithrite sword comes out of the Beeroth guy's gut. Imagine, soldiers smell just as bad on the inside. Out of the corner of my eye I see Joab's hand move to cover his mouth. Anyway, 29 left although I don't think my chances are much better.

My mind's made up, it's time for the serpent's tongue and soft words. Uriah it is. What will I say to him. What will make him be merciful to someone he hates? I jostle between several of the more lummox-like soldiers. Their stupid glares register surprise and they all reach for the pommel of their sword. There's not enough room for more than one sword to be drawn at once. The sound of my laughter sounds mad to me too. I'll be honest and say I feel a trickle down my leg, but, of course, what soldier is going to notice that? I'm next to Joab, there's a smell of cinnabar and orchids, I'll make the right choice now, I whisper:

'Joab, help a fellow man of Sodom...'