The King's Man

Watch fires blazed in the darkness of night. Stars glittered overhead in the heavens. The smell of water and mud hung in the air, wafting from the scattered pools that surrounded Rabba, the city of waters. Frog calls nearly drowned out the crackle and pop of flaming wood and the snoring of an army of Israelite warriors camped in the fields outside the city. 

Footsteps approached, and the walker was challenged by sentries. When he identified himself as a messenger from King David, who had sent him to General Joab, he was taken to the tent of the king’s sleeping nephew. In the privacy of the tent, the messenger gave him his order from his uncle: “Send me Urias the Hittite.”

Joab woke the soldier himself. The king calling for Urias was an interesting, but not strange occurrence. Urias left in haste, and went straight to the palace on arriving at the capital city. 

“My king, I have come. How can I serve you?” He bowed. 

“Rise, Urias, and tell me how Joab is, and the men of the army, and how the fighting is being conducted. Tell me all.” The young king’s ruddy hair and beard shone like fire in the light coming through the window. 

“Joab is well. We have suffered no casualties. The city will not be taken for some time, but this is a waiting game. Their supplies will run out eventually, and they will have to either surrender or fight in such a weak condition they’ll be sure to lose. The only danger now is getting too close to the walls, and sorties, but General Joab thinks…”

The two men of war talked for quite some time. The king kept him talking, asking after different soldiers by name, and wanted to hear about anything that Urias had found to be of interest or amusement recently. 

Finally, as it grew dark outside, King David told his soldier, “Go home, Urias, and wash your feet in your own house.” They were still caked with the dust of the road. 

Urias bowed to his king again, and left the royal presence. 

Tired from his long journey and his long report to the king, Urias marched out to the barracks, where the men who were guarding the royal house slept. The exhausted soldier fell into a more peaceful slumber than he’d been able to find for weeks. So did the king, after he sent a present of a portion of good meat from his own table to Urias’s house. 

The king’s peace of mind was shattered the next morning after he sent to Urias’s house to fetch him. The servant reported back that Urias never went to his house, but slept with the royal guard. 

“Did you not come from a journey? Why did you not go to your house?” the king all but demanded when Urias came before him. 

“The ark of God and Israel and Judah dwell in tents, and Joab and the army abide upon the face of the earth. Shall I then go to my own house to eat and drink and sleep with my wife? By your welfare and by your soul I will not do this thing.”

King David heaved a sigh through his red beard and nodded understanding. “Remain here in Jerusalem today, and tomorrow you will return to Rabba.” David left the room in a swirl of robes as his loyal soldier bowed low. 

A Hittite warrior, bowing in the wake of an Israelite warrior, and not because anyone forced him to respect a captor or conqueror. A strange picture, really. The Israelite and Hittite nations are enemies. 

For a second night, Urias sleeps among the royal guard. 

On the day when he said he would send Urias back, David summoned him to the royal banquet. The king proceeded to offer Urias cup after cup of wine. 

Light from torches and lamps gleamed on fruits and wine and juicy meats and in the eyes of all in the room. Laughter and talk and the clatter of dishes and cups and jugs mingled to make a rich, pleasant cacophony. 

Mephibosheth watched over the rim of his cup as King David refilled the cup of Urias again and again. The warrior grew merry, and then just plain drunk. Mephibosheth shifted in his seat, moving his crippled feet under the table. He sat at the royal banquet every day, and saw many things. 

Mephibosheth’s father Jonathan was a dear friend of King David, back in the days when Jonathan was prince of the land, and Mephibosheth’s grandfather Saul was the first king of Israel. Saul and Jonathan and two of Jonathan’s brothers all died in battle against their great enemies, the Philistines, on the same day. David had already been anointed years before as the next king of Israel, and the kingship fell to him. Because he wanted to honor the memory of his great friend, David tracked down Mephibosheth, whose feet had been crippled at five years old. When news was brought to Saul’s house of his defeat and death, a nurse, fearing that Philistine warriors might be on the way to kill the rest of Saul’s children, picked up Mephibosheth and fled, but dropped him. 

King David, who had since come into his own, granted Mephibosheth the favor of sitting at the royal banquet every day. As Urias began to have trouble staying in his seat that night, Mephibosheth wondered why the king seemed so intent on getting Urias drunk. Urias was one of David’s renowned mighty men, his elite warriors who had gone through thick and thin with him.

When Saul falsely accused David of trying to take the kingship from him, David was the greatest warrior in the king’s army, and when he fled and hid, many of the king’s warriors gathered to him. Other warriors not belonging directly to the king’s service joined him as well, including an Ammonite, a Moabite, and Urias the Hittite. The rebel army of David lived in the hills and the forests, and even, for a time, among the Philistine lords. Wherever Saul could not easily find them was safe.

Finally, Urias stood and staggered from the banquet table, using the wall to support himself.

David watched him go. Last chance, Urias. Last chance. Go home to Bethsabee. The beauty of the wife of Urias still burned in David’s mind, along with guilt and hope that his plan would work at last. 

Urias once again spent the night sleeping with the guards of the house. 

In the morning, David wrote a letter, sealed it, and sent it with Urias. “Take this to Joab, and give it to him as soon as possible.” 

Urias took the message and bowed to David one final time. “Farewell, my king. I hope to see you again soon.”

“Farewell, Urias.” David turned his gaze away. 

Set Urias in the front of the battle, where the fight is strongest, and leave him, that he may be wounded and die. Dumbfounded, Joab again read the words of the letter from his uncle the king, slowly. The parchment was still warm from Urias’s hand. The Hittite had traveled swiftly and returned to camp sooner than anyone expected him to.

“A sortie! Joab! They are making a sortie!” 

“Urias!” Joab roared. “Everyone from ranks, and you, get me Urias!”

“Yes, General!” The Hittite emerged from the uproar of men arming themselves and running towards the city. 

“Urias, you will lead the charge. Go!”

“Follow me!” Urias shouted. “In the name of the Lord and for King David! The Lord is God!” 

“THE LORD IS GOD!” The very ground seemed to rumble. 

The Ammonite attack failed, and they turned and fled back to the city, hotly pursued by the troops under Urias. 

Arrows fell from the walls like dark hail on the army of David.

At the front of the charge, chasing the Ammonite soldiers back into their city, Urias was struck. Struggling to go on, he realized that not one of the soldiers was outpacing him, despite his slowing steps. 

He was running alone, the closest and easiest target for the archers on the stone walls looming above. 

Black bolts rained down on him. 

King David took the news of multiple casualties well, sending Joab’s messenger back to tell him not to be discouraged, that that was the way of war, and the sword devoured sometimes one, and sometimes another. He wanted Joab to encourage the men in their siege, and when the city was about to fall into their hands, Joab called David to be the final conqueror. King David took the jeweled golden crown from the head of the Ammonite king Melchom and had it remade as a diadem for himself. 

The king also had a piece of more personal news to share with the army: After Bethsabee, Urias’s wife, had finished her period of mourning for her deceased husband, David had immediately married her. She was his eighth wife, and she bore him a son remarkably quickly.