The Philistine Warrior (17 page)

“Yes, sir,” I replied. All of my anger was gone. It wasn’t a fair solution, but it was all I could get. Our nation’s unity over-shadowed everything else.

“Good,” Sheren Maoch repeated. “Now, Colonel Phicol, you can go back to your work. You’ve made a good start on rebuilding your squadron—keep up the good work.”

I stared at him in disbelief: “…‘Colonel…?” I asked.

Maoch smiled: “We’ve just promoted you to lieutenant colonel, he explained.

I left the Council with congratulations on all sides. Feeling on top of the world, I went back to my squadron, wanting to go out and whip all the Canaanites in the vicinity—and then some! I knew that my promotion would be taken as a victory for the chariot service—and all I had to do was keep my troopers from celebrating it too much…or too openly. Now we could get back to fighting the enemy.

Judaean invasions—and Canaanite rebellions—have come and gone in spasms ever since we Philistines arrived in this land, and we know pretty much how to deal with them on our own territory—I mean on the open plains. Calling up Askelon’s chariot reserves, I could now field almost a full squadron. We took the field, and it wasn’t long before we’d cut up the Judaean raiding parties in the areas surrounding Askelon, on the three sides not facing the ocean. We left the reconquered lands under the protection of our loyal Canaanite companies, while we went on further search and destroy missions toward the hills—but not into them! It was good to be a free agent again, without having to suffer the interference of fools…or worse.

Similar successes were scored by the chariot forces of
Gath
,
Ashdod
, and
Gaza
, and we could all breath a little easier again. Yet the situation was fundamentally unsound. While we spent much of the winter and spring licking our wounds and guarding nearby towns, there were constant, new outbreaks of raiding, bands of roving Judaeans and other Canaanites, usually in the foot hills, but also on the eastern plains—whenever and wherever we didn’t have chariot forces to back up our infantry; that is, Philistine and friendly Canaanite garrisons. The result was the failure or destruction of crops. Far worse was Ekron’s plight, and we didn’t have enough men

to help her. When summer arrived—how far off those days seem now—our men still ran around as fire brigades, and Ekron seemed ready to negotiate with the Danites.

The only good news we received that season came from my beloved Cousin Delai: she’d just given birth to a male heir of the House of Nomion in
Gath
, the baby Prince Akashou. There was public rejoicing in
Gath
and Askelon—and indeed in all
Philistia
; but without sufficient money or food, without tourists, and
with
the threat of harder fighting ahead, our celebrations didn’t amount to much.

The Council of Askelon met to discuss the situation, and I was asked to speak first on the activities of my squadron: “My chariots can go wherever we want,” I explained. “Short of the hills, that is. But we can’t occupy territory. Therefore the Canaanite rebels—and the Judaeans—can control a lot of territory, or at least destroy crops—especially at night.”

“It’s difficult to obtain food for our people under those conditions,” Sheren Maoch commented. “Especially since Askelon’s become so crowded with Philistine and loyal Canaanite refugees from the hinterland. There’s a lot of disease and suffering here, now.”

Councilor Pai also had something to say: “My Lords, it’s always possible for Askelon—and
Gaza
—to import foodstuffs from overseas. But our finances are low. What can we export in return for foreign food, when our own olive and grape plantations are overrun and our crops burned? Our factories are deprived of hides and metals because we can’t get our caravans through to the east. Something has to be done.” This latter wasn’t said with any force, but rather in despair.

Chancellor Zaggi, it was clear, had come to make a major speech: “Askelon, and for that matter all of
Philistia
, can’t long survive without control of the farmland.” He clenched his teeth. “And the problem is mostly caused by our own stupidity! Our cities are very short-sighted; we’re each looking out too much for ourselves; we lack the coordination we need for an all-out attack on the Judaean enemy. All
Philistia
must be mobilized. Look at
Ashdod
; they’re hardly fighting at all!” I had to admit that he’d made a good point. But then he proceeded to attack our own nobility: “The

Philistine aristocracy,” he continued, “is too individualistic. They won’t submit to central control.”

On that issue, I had to hold myself in check, lest I say too much. What Zaggi contended was true, up to a point. But what he really meant was that our free nobility should become servants under the absolute rule of the sherens and the Melek. So far as Askelon was concerned, that would mean the rule of Zaggi, who was increasingly in control of the government, despite the occasional restraining hand of his brother, Sheren Maoch. But I couldn’t come right out and accuse Zaggi of having dictatorial ambitions. I’d shot my mouth off too much in Council as it was. And so I tried to keep quiet.

Unfortunately, there was, in fact, little intelligent campaigning by our nobility. Landlords gathered personal armies of loyal Canaanites and Philistine soldier-farmers and defended their plantations. But then they would sit back while neighboring territories were ravaged. And at the first opportunity, their own serfs would be up in arms again, so the process would have to be repeated. In the meantime, little food production could be accomplished. Seldom did anyone organize an effective attack on the Judaean clans which were at the root of the problem. Our merchants, understandably, were reluctant to contribute gold and silver to pay for such feeble and divided efforts as we ventured to mount. I could almost sympathize with Pai on that issue—yet he had nothing constructive to say, no ideas to offer.

Only Chancellor Zaggi thought he knew what to do: “The nobility must be subjugated,” he told us, eyes flashing. “The rule of the sherens must be absolute; and above them, the Melek must rule as if he were the Emperor of Assyria!”

Sheren Maoch, tired and pale, allowed his brother to go on like this; and when I finally tried to say something, he refused to let me have the floor. “Zaggi’s right, Phicol,” Uncle Maoch said, wearily.

I gave up trying. But in my heart, I feared for our ancient liberties. How long could they survive under such conditions? What we needed, surely, was a strong leader—but one who wouldn’t try to convert wartime unity of command into peacetime dictatorship.

So there we sat, looking at each other, getting nothing done, taking small consolation from our unwarranted assumption that things

could not, at least, get any worse. But then Maoch’s Chamberlain appeared at the door to announce an important messenger from
Gath
. This officer was ushered in, and we invited him to speak his piece:

“M’Lords,” the man began—and swallowed. “I have some very bad news….”

“What now?” I asked.

“Melek Nasuy is…dead!” he told us.

“Good God!” Zaggi swore. “But how?”

“Fever, m’Lord. We didn’t think it serious until the fifth day, and then, suddenly, he was gone….” Pulled down into the abyss, into the underworld, the fate of Man…leaving us adrift…. “Over work and old age,” the officer was saying. “He’d been particularly worried about raising fresh forces to protect our borders, and Ekron’s situation was much on his mind.”

Heavy drinking probably hadn’t done much for his health, either, I thought—we Philistines do like our wine! The old man had died in a moment of crisis; he’d deserved better than that…and we would miss him. Not that he’d been an outstandingly effective administrator; but he was justly revered, and a symbol of our nation and dynasty.

“He’s left only one male heir of his body,” Maoch commented. “And he’s only an infant—Nasuy’s grandson.”

The messenger didn’t have to be asked the obvious question: “My Lords,” he addressed us, with a touch or formality: “The nobility of
Gath
will soon meet to ratify the last will of our Melek. His Grace told us before his last breath that we should elect Prince Ekosh. It shall be done, my Lords….” There could hardly have been any other choice.
Gath
was dedicated to the House of Nomion, and the throne must go to an adult—and a proven warrior, given our troubles. So Prince Ekosh would be our next Melek, despite the fact that he hadn’t been in
Philistia
for many years, and despite the time it would take to summon him from
Egypt
.

“Has he been sent for?” Zaggi asked.

The man took out a papyrus document: “Sir, this letter will inform you of Melek Nasuy’s death-bed request, namely, that a member of his dynasty be sent to
Egypt
to take the news to Prince Ekosh. In fact, he suggested that Lord Phicol go, because Lord

Phicol met the Prince in
Egypt
only recently, and the latter reported back to us a favorable opinion of him. Moreover, Melek Nasuy remembered Lord Phicol fondly from their rare meetings.”

Zaggi was taken aback by this proposition, but I jumped at it: “I accept the commission with pride,” I announced. “I’ll leave as soon as a boat can be made ready.”

“But is it absolutely certain that
Gath
will elect the Prince?” Zaggi inquired.

“Yes, my Lords,” the officer replied. “Everybody’s been consulted; it’s just a formality now. We’ll send the formal document as soon as we can, but, under the circumstances, it would seem best for Lord Phicol to leave at once, if I may say so.”

Zaggi had no further questions. I suppose he didn’t like the idea that I should be the first to explain the current situation to our new Melek—face to face, by me, not just by an occasional letter from Nasuy, as had been the case. On the other hand, Zaggi may have been pleased to get me out of the Council again. Besides, he didn’t have a very high opinion of my political abilities, so he couldn’t have felt any real concern over what I might say to influence the Prince. All in all, it wasn’t worth Zaggi’s while to risk offending
Gath
by trying to block my mission. Apart from Zaggi and Maoch, there just wasn’t anyone of our dynasty free to go to
Egypt
—and the crises at hand made sending either of them impossible. With the Council’s approval, then, I was soon on my way to
Egypt
again—this time at breakneck speed.

Urgency was certainly warranted. Even as I boarded my ship the following morning, further bad news arrived in Askelon. Sheren

Ittai, his resources exhausted, had negotiated a truce with the Danites—and had agreed to pay them tribute! Ekron had thus become virtually a Danite vassal state. True, the Danites had not demanded the right to occupy the city itself; that might have provoked resistance, even from Ittai—and a long siege. The enemy preferred instead to send their warriors, now freed from the necessity of fighting Ekron, farther south, down into the lands of
Ashdod
, which, for the first time, now awoke to the gravity of our situation. The Danites might, probably would, venture even into
Gath
’s territory. The only bright spot in this picture was that the Danites would have