by Wesley Lambert

It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God. Hebrews 10:31

"Behold their many thousands," Saul said, looking down upon the Philistine camp from the heights of the Jezreel Valley. Torchlight cast his face in a pallid glow. Sweat beaded his brow, trickled down unshaven cheeks.

"Yes, lord," spoke Doeg, his armorbearer, from just behind the king.

Saul's eyes darted over the scene. A great host stretched out from the town of Shunem. Their watch fires usurped the night like angry fireflies, branding the surrounding area with their radiance and blistering the horizon.

"I'll be in my tent," whispered the king, turning from the view. He stumbled, quickly catching himself before falling.

"Lord?" Doeg reached out a hand.

"I'm fine," Saul said. He drew his imposing figure into a sharper stance and strode away.

In the tent, Saul hurried to his bedside and fell upon his knees. With hands clasped, he stared up at the ceiling.

"Lord, why do you vex me so? Why do you torture me with this Philistine rabble, your sworn enemies? Am I not your anointed? Your champion?" His breathing came in great, ragged gasps as his anger flared. "Have I not expelled the unrighteous filth from our soil? Was it not I who unified your people? This is how you repay me for my devotion?"

Saul stood, wiping his mouth with the back of a hand. "Answer me! Hear your servant!" He slumped, then, falling back to his knees. Head burying itself in his robes, he wept.

"Did I not put away those who made treat with familiar spirits, and the like?" he croaked. He staggered over to a low table, fumbled with a wine goblet. Slurping the warm liquid, he continued his tirade.

"Lord, hear me! Answer with a soft turn of phrase or a gentle sign. You speak to me not in dreams, nor by priests, nor through your stony-faced prophets! I am king of the Children of Israel! Haven't I earned your ear?"

Almost his heart broke with the knowledge of God's deafness to his pleas. Almost he begged forgiveness for past sins. Almost he understood the words of Samuel, the prophet. Almost he repented.

Then the spell of sorrow drained away with the dregs of wine. He dashed the cup to the rug-strewn floor.

"Ah, Samuel," he said, remembering the old man fondly. "If only you were here, with your wise counsel and judgment. How I long for your voice!"

Suddenly an idea began to coalesce in his mind, taking shape in a mirthless smile twisting his features.

He looked up, as if his eyes penetrated the very fibers of the tent, the sky and stars, and Heaven itself.

"You've betrayed me to my enemies, Lord. You turned all against me even David, the light of my heart. This very night, he curries favor with the Philistines, those who would have my head! And yet you remain silent and aloof. Why, Lord? Where is your mercy? Shun me not!"

With no answer forthcoming, Saul threw up his hands. "Then I shall find someone who will reply to my inquiries."

He jerked back the tent flaps and stuck his head outside.

"Guards! To me!"

The sentries came running, concern stark on their faces. "What ails you, sire?" asked the first one.

Saul dismissed the idea with a wave. "I'm not sick. Bring my counselors, and my armorbearer."

The guards bowed and scurried away to comply with the king's wishes.

When Saul's advisors had arrived along with Doeg, he gathered them around him.

"My loyal subjects," he began, "I have a task for you. An urgent errand. Seek out a woman who has a familiar spirit, that I may go to her, and question her."

The men shared incredulous glances. One took a step forward. "But lord, your proclamation had such people driven from the realm. Even executed."

"Yes, yes, I remember my own decrees! I'm not a dotard. The feat's difficulty notwithstanding, find such a person for me. Great rewards lie in wait for him who accomplishes my will." He smiled, a nervous tic of the eye giving away his impatience.

"But where shall we find such an individual?" the same man said.

The perplexity apparent in the man's expression annoyed Saul. "I care not by what means or measures you locate this person. Just do it. I command you."

He dismissed all except Doeg, his faithful aid.

###

After first scouring the camp for information from anyone on the whereabouts of a practitioner of spiritism, his subjects returned forthwith to inform him of their finding.

"Well?" Saul said, dismissing pleasantries.

Amos, the man who had spoken on behalf of the rest previously, stepped forward.

"Lord, there is a woman who has a familiar spirit at Endor."

"Are you certain of this?" Saul said, eyes gleaming.

"Yes. The information is reliable. But sire, the soldier who offered it fears your wrath for not divulging this fact sooner."

"Bah! He has nothing to fear from me except perhaps a kiss, or some gold!" Saul licked his lips and rubbed his hands together.

"Keep this night's meeting to yourselves. Tell no one of what was spoken, here." He lifted his sword from beside his bed and flicked the keen edge. "Obedience ensures a long life of service," he said.

The men gulped and nodded.

"Depart from me, now. Not you, Amos. And Doeg stays. Off with the rest of you. We have strategies and tactics to discuss."

The men filed out, leaving those in the tent to themselves.

Saul turned to Amos and Doeg, his face lined and haggard, cheeks drawn. But a strange light burned in his eyes.

"Listen carefully to your king," he began, thus relating his plans to them.

###

Endor lay north and slightly west of Saul's camp in the Jezreel. Between stretched five miles of rugged, hilly terrain. Over the darkened landscape came three figures two of average height, the third of greater stature. They moved with the silence of wraiths, their journey punctuated only by the occasional halt beside a sycamore's gray bole or to crouch near low shrubs.

The three wore typical travelers' garb for the day and place, peasants' vesture certain to draw little attention. The first figure hastened in a way that bespoke urgency. Entering a narrow ravine, the tall form motioned for the others to join.

Pulling back the hood of his cloak, Saul revealed pasty white features and wide eyes filled with fear and anticipation.

"Shh!" he whispered. "Hurry, Doeg. Amos, do your legs fail you?"

"N-no, my lord. Just t-tired from our pace." Amos swallowed great gulps of air.

Saul grinned. His teeth gleaming in the moonlight made the two men shudder.

"Thought dogging an old man's heels would be like outdistancing a child, eh? Well, this oldster has a few surprises left in him."

Amos and Doeg remained silent, waiting for the king's orders.

"I saw lights ahead, before we came into the gully. We're close to the Hill of Moreh, and comfortably beyond the Philistines' picket lines." Saul again drew up his hood and continued onward.

"You must not allow the enemy to capture your king," he said over his shoulder, just before exiting the ravine.

After having outflanked their adversaries' encampment at Shunem, the trio flitted up the Hill of Moreh, leaving behind them the smell of wood smoke and roast mutton.

Reaching the hill's summit, they looked down upon their destination.

Endor lay sleeping in a little valley, near the foot of Moreh. Scattered rocks and bushes dotted the hillside, leading the way down to the modest village. Lights beckoned from a few windows, but most of the structures rested in darkness, such was the lateness of evening. A dog yapped sporadically in the distance.

"Little more than a mile," said Doeg with gratitude at the prospect of resting his tired feet.

"Yes, praise the Lord," Amos said from his seat on a rock.

"Up, Amos." Saul clearly desired no wasted time in resting. "Let us find this witch and see if she gives the name due credit."

"But sire," said Doeg, moving closer. "What of our Lord's will, and the Law of Moses against such arts?"

"'The Lord's will.'" Saul grimaced. "Know you not that He made me king to enact his will? I know what I'm doing. Moreover, the Lord chooses silence in response to my supplications. I must have answers to some very important questions, and they reside," he pointed at tranquil Endor, "down there."

"Yes, my master," said Doeg, bowing.

Saul fidgeted from the spent moments arguing. "Come, you two," he said, starting off down the hill at an alarming rate.

Doeg helped the exhausted Amos, and they followed quickly behind.

At the foot of the slope, Saul stopped and waved at Amos' straggling form. He plucked at his long beard's curls.

Amos came up, wheezing and bending over, hands on knees.

"I should have chosen someone of a more hearty disposition to accompany me." He looked at his armorbearer. "Someone like Doeg. Amos, you disappoint me."

"Please forgive me, lord," Amos said hoarsely. "I did not expect the night journey over formidable countryside."

"The king forgives you, in all his mercy. But do try to keep up. I have yet to break my fast, this day, and still I easily outshine you." Saul put a hand on Amos' shoulder. The man nodded, too winded to bandy words.

Saul pulled him up to a standing position.

"Which is her abode?" he said.

Amos wiped his brow. "A carpenter named Michael knows. Our informant gave me directions to his house. Come, sire. If it pleases you to follow me?"

"Yes, but be swift and sure. I want no mistakes, no revelation of my presence."

"Of course, lord." Amos led the way, skirting a flock of sheep, where a lone shepherd boy dozed on a rock, oblivious to their passage.

They circled and came into Endor from the east. Traversing the main thoroughfare, they passed houses and places of business, finally checking their footsteps at the door of a humble shop. Tools of the trade rested against the walls or hung from hooks overhead.

"He lives in back," whispered Amos.

Saul motioned for him to go around, while he and Doeg awaited in front.

Saul bided his time impatiently, feeling a chill breeze rush down the street. His body signaled hunger by a growling stomach, but the thought of food nauseated him.

He heard a door creak open, subdued mutterings, and the sound of the same door groaning shut.

Amos came out of the darkness beside him.

"It is well, lord. I know the way."

"May we reply upon the man's discretion?" Doeg said.

"Yes," said Amos. "I paid him in gold."

"Good." Saul clapped him on the back, staggering the man. "Lead the way."

Off they went down the street, forging deeper into the village. One structure resembled another in the gloom, but Amos found the right house at the end of a claustrophobic alley.

No lights glowed in the windows.

"Looks deserted," said Doeg.

"No." Amos took a step toward the door. "He assured me this is the place we seek."

"I'll go," Saul said. "Stay here and watch the door. This is between me and her who lives here, alone."

The men deferred and stepped aside.

Saul rapped on the door with a heavy knuckle.

No answer.

He knocked again, a little louder this time, feeling the old anger seep into him.

A whisking of fibers, as of covers being thrown back. Shuffling footsteps, the clanking of an oil lamp. A thrown latch, and the door opened.

The woman was not at all what Saul had expected. He foresaw a tired little husk of a woman, aged beyond beauty and desire to revulsion. He imagined wisps of gray hair, gnarled fingers, milky eyes, a toothless mouth, skin like parchment. Instead, he saw a woman of average height, straight of back, with long brown hair and eyes of matching luster, probably less than two score years old.

She raised her lamp, fear scrawled on her face at the daunting figure before her door.

"M-may I help you, sirs?" she said.

Saul bowed before her, surprised by her appearance. "Lady, I implore you; divine unto me by your familiar spirit, and bring me him up whom I shall name for you."

The woman backed away into the unlit portion of the house, her lamplight trailing.

"Sir, I cannot do what you ask of me. You know what King Saul has done. He has cut off or driven away those who have familiar spirits. And the wizards, too, have relocated far away, or died by his hand." She set the lamp on a rough-hewn table. "Why do you wish to trap me in this snare, and cause me to die?"

Wrath flooded through Saul's immense form, then, rushing through his veins like hellfire. He felt heat rise in his cheeks, and his fists clenched into knots big enough to smash her pretty face with one blow.

His ire waned just as it had waxed. The realization dawned that this woman had no inkling who he was. This was not a king before her, but a pilgrim, a stranger. What fury remained, he directed toward himself, for his untimely past edict. The rage simmered and cooled into desperation.

"Lady, dear lady," he said, going down on one knee. "I swear to you by the Lord. As he lives, no punishment shall befall you for this thing."

The woman looked at him, eyes roving over his voluminous clothing, touching upon the hood still covering his head. She walked around him and closed the door in his servants' astonished faces. Then she turned back to him.

"Whom shall I bring up for you?" she whispered simply.

Saul glanced up, hope in his eyes. He pushed to his feet and grabbed her hands, feeling the calluses.

She merely stood there, letting his hands clamp over hers.

"Bring me Samuel," he said breathlessly. "Samuel the Prophet, my mentor."

She removed his big fingers, gingerly freeing herself from his grasp.

"Stay here," she said. Before he made reply, she walked into a back room, behind a gauzy curtain drifting over the doorway.

He heard little swishes of her clothes, and the hushed susurration of her chanting. He understood none of the words, nor did his curiosity lead him to inquire about her methods. He cared nothing for that; only results mattered.

Saul craned his neck, trying to see past the curtain. He caught the sweet smell of jasmine, mingled with myrrh, he supposed. Apparently her forbidden craft enjoyed much use, at hefty sums, to afford such expensive incense.

The woman cried out with a loud voice, breaking Saul's line of thought. Saul took a couple of steps toward the room, worried. He stopped as the woman spoke.

"Why have you deceived me?" she said, casting her voice in his direction. "You are Saul!"

"Don't be afraid," Saul murmured. "What did you see?"

"I saw gods rising out of the earth," she said, sounding fearful despite his assurance.

Saul ignored this remark as pagan ignorance of the unknown.

"Is he whom you called with us?" Saul said, shuffling toward the chamber indecisively.

"I-I don't know."

"What is his form?" Saul inched across the remaining space to the opening.

"An old man comes up, and he is covered with a mantle."

At this, Saul rushed into the room, nearly tearing the curtain over the portal from its rod.

He saw a dark shape coming erect in the corner, between the bed and the adobe wall. The mantle obscured all the form's features, below the neck. But Saul recognized the seamed face, the shock of white hair and snowy beard, the bushy eyebrows guarding deep-set eyes.

With a mixture of joy and apprehension, Saul stooped low and folded himself, face to the ground.

The old man in the corner spoke:

"Why have you disquieted me? Why have you brought me up?" His voice sounded like a rush of wind down a long tunnel.

"I am in distress, Samuel," said Saul, barely raising his head to make himself heard. "The Philistines war against me, and God has departed from me. He refuses his guidance not by dreams, nor prophets' utterings. So I have summoned you, that you may make known to me what I shall do."

"Why do you entreat me, seeing the Lord has departed from you, and has become your enemy?" The hollow voice echoed in the tiny room.

"And the Lord has anointed David," it continued, "as He spoke through me. For the Lord has rent the kingdom from your hand, and given it to your neighbor, even to David.

"Because you rejected the Lord's voice, and failed to execute his judgment upon the Amalekites, therefore he has done this thing unto you, this day."

Saul rose to his knees and stared at Samuel open-mouthed in horror. The prophet's eyes had faded to black pits in his face, unplumbed by the merest spark of lamplight. An icy gale swept through the chamber, shaking the curtain and freezing Saul's sweat-soaked body. His teeth chattered fiercely, splitting his lip and salting his tongue with the copper of blood.

The old man stumped closer, hovering over Saul. The king gaped at him, paralyzed with dread.

"Furthermore," Samuel now whispered, bringing his face close, "the Lord will deliver you and Israel into the hands of the Philistines. Tomorrow, you and your sons shall be with me. Also, He shall bestow the host of Israel into the Philistines' hands."

A hoarse cry rattled from Saul's lips. He fell headlong upon the floor, sobbing in agony from Samuel's portent. He felt the strength seep out of his limbs, his neck, his back. He lay blubbering, knees drawn up to his chest.

At this the front door burst open, revealing the gaping servants.

"What have you done to him?" said Amos, hurrying to the king's side.

"Not I," she said, backing away. "But the vision of long-dead Samuel."

"I see no one," Doeg said.

Sure enough, the old man was gone as if he'd never been. Not even a footprint on the dirt floor marked his passing.

The woman pushed past Doeg and knelt at Saul's side, finding pity in her heart for the king's sorry state.

"Your handmaid has obeyed your voice, sire." She rubbed his icy brow. "Let me give you bread,
so you may eat and gain strength before you go on your way."

Saul's eyes fluttered. He stared up at her, as if lost in a fever dream.

"I will not eat," he grated.

"Lord, she speaks wisely," Amos said, glaring at the woman despite her good advice. "You ate nothing all this day or night."

"Yes, sire," Doeg joined. "You need strength, for the journey back to camp."

Saul resisted at first, finally agreeing to the repast after much compulsion. He rose, tottering, and propelled himself to the bed with their aid. He sat, face in his hands.

The woman had a fat calf penned outside. She went out and killed it, while Saul's servants ministered to him. Afterward she took flour, kneaded it, and baked unleavened bread.

Working diligently and with great care, she finished the meal and brought it before the three men. They fell to with gusto, even Saul's appetite rapidly returning. She watched them shovel in the food like starving beggars. Again the compassion for Saul washed over her. The terror of the night's events still lingered in the back of her mind especially the vision of that wizened face with pools of darkness for eyes. She wondered what it must be like to look into such eyes, to see one's end written large, even while hearing it pronounced.

She almost smiled at her next thought. Charity had driven a medium of modest means to have sympathy for a monarch. Thus the admirable meal before them a final feast, befitting a king.

Had the apparition been Samuel, really? Or a demon in disguise? Even she didn't know. But of one thing she was certain. She resolved never to dabble in forbidden conjurings again.

###

Saul paid the woman and left, her final glimpse of this once-mighty man a stooped shadow disappearing over the Hill of Moreh.

The king passed the walk back to Israel's encampment in silence, a bitter and broken man. He spent the night's remainder in preparation for battle.

The Philistines attacked at dawn, their overwhelming numbers mowing down Saul's army like wheat under a reaper's scythe. Many died where they fell. Others fled to the high ground of Mount Gilboa. And the enemy pursued and slew Abinadab, Malchishua, and Jonathon Saul's sons.

The battle went badly against Saul, and he fell, wounded by many arrows. Fearing that the Philistines would torture and abuse him, and finding it unseemly to die by their hands, he begged his armorbearer to run him through with a sword.

Doeg refused, unable to comply with such an unthinkable order, so Saul fell upon his own sword and expired. When Doeg saw that he was dead, he fell likewise upon his sword, and died with Saul. Amos had fallen already in the earlier fighting, as had all those close to the king.

So Saul and all his men fell together in the same day, passing from this world like heroes, defiant to the last.

The Philistines retrieved the king's corpse. They cut off his head, stripped his armor, and carried these grisly trophies around the countryside to proclaim their victory. Eventually his armor went into the house of Ashtaroth, their goddess, his head to the temple of Dagon, and they fastened his body to the wall of Beth-shan.

When this news reached the valiant men of Jabesh-gilead, they arose under a blanket of night, recovering the bodies of Saul and his sons; for they remembered the king's defense of their city against the Ammonites.

The remnants they returned to Jabesh, cremating them. Later they buried the bones under an oak in their city, and fasted seven days in mourning.

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