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By
Miss Sarah Cohen.
White were the hills of Gilboa with the tents of
Israel’s warriors, and brightly glistened many a
helm and spear in the golden sunlight, as, under the
eyes of their far-famed leaders, they performed
their warlike evolutions. Fearless and bold were
those gallant ones, vigorous their iron-nerved
frames, and undaunted their stout hearts. They
waited with impatience for the approaching foe,
because, presuming on their former successes, they
were, in their own minds, secure of victory and thus
they were eager for the coming strife, the happy
termination of which they thought would add fresh
glory to their names, already noted for deeds of
renown, and save their country from the constant
attacks of its treacherous neighbours; all,
therefore, save their royal leader, were animated by
glowing and bright visions of the future.
But the noble brow of the kingly chief was
overshadowed by <<26>>an unusual gloom, and his
cheek was pale; and though, as was his wont, he
spoke cheeringly and inspiringly to the gallant and
well-tried leaders of his hosts, and their loyal and
brave followers, yet seemed as if other feelings,
which he sought to repress, were weighing on his
mind; for often in the midst of his eloquent and
heart-stirring appeals he would suddenly appear to
wander, hesitate, and utter words foreign to the
subject; again he would return such unconnected
answers to the dutiful addresses of his faithful
people, as showed that his spirit was filled with
some engrossing and anxious contemplations. This
strange demeanour, though it had hitherto escaped
the notice of those who were not in daily communion
with the king, had just began to attract the
attention of others than the monarch’s immediate
servants and counsellors, and many and various were
the causes assigned by them for the spiritless and
dejected looks of that countenance once so haughty
and bold. “Why should he be troubled? doubts he the
fidelity of Israel’s warriors? or can that hitherto
indomitable courage now change to coward fear, or
that once dauntless heart now quake before coming
danger?” were the words of one to his comrade.
“Surely not,” was the quick and indignant reply; “no
fear dwells in that iron heart, and our king well
knows that faithful and brave ones are around him,
who are ready to obey his slightest word to follow
him whithersoever he may lead them; be it even to
certain death. But bethink thee, feels not our
monarch an affectionate interest for his faithful
troops? And as he views so many gallant and stately
forms, now full of bright hopes, and exulting in the
fond anticipation of victory, his heart is doubtless
filled with sad emotions, when he reflects that many
of these noble and ardent spirits will soon be
stilled in death; for even conquest must be
purchased at the expense of life. I marked the
quiver of his lips and his wistful look, when the
shout of the people greeted their king’s approach
this day. Indeed thou wrongest him, even to imagine
that fear dwells in his heart.”
“True,” said the other, “I well know that it is not
fear which disturbs him; it may be that he has
passed a sleepless <<27>>night in devising means to
surprise the enemy; or, perchance, the cruel malady
which of old troubled him, has again seized on its
victim.”
Such were the words of a little group of officers of
the Israelitish host as the king silently, though
restlessly, walked round the encampment, studiously
avoiding all conversation, but apparently absorbed
in some gloomy and sad train of thoughts.
Far different was the mien of Saul’s valorous sons
that day; a sight of them was animating, and their
least stirring words were a stimulant to the most
faint of heart; though few, very few of such were
then in the camp. Many responsive shouts replied to
their eloquent and earnest appeals, which they
addressed to the loyalty and bravery of the Hebrew
warriors, and bright enthusiastic looks followed
their footsteps as they passed from tent to tent.
Their father viewed the stately forms of his sons
with an admiring though melancholy aspect, and when
his first-born, Jonathan, seemed about to approach
him, he turned away, to avoid, it would seem, his
company. The prince remarked with wonder his
father’s troubled image; but seeing that his
presence was not desired, and not daring then to
intrude, he joined some of his gallant friends,
leaving his parent to the enjoyment of the privacy
he evidently so much desired.
As
the king was walking slowly to his tent, he passed
unnoticed near a little group who were too much
engaged with their conversation to remark his
approach, and as he moved along, his ear caught
their words, and hence he paused eagerly to listen
to what they said, for they were speaking of him.
“What thinkest thou,” spoke one, “is the reason of
his sad looks? hast thou heard of any cause of
disquiet?”
“Nay, I have heard of none; but not one of these sad
looks will be seen when he leads on his brave host
to the battle,” was the reply.
“I
am not sure of that; for it was a pity that that
rash, cruel slaughter of the holy priests should
ever have been commanded by him; and grievous is it
that a man could be found to execute that impious
and barbarous decree, to raise the murderous sword
against those whose hands and voices have been so
often lifted up <<28>>to invoke the blessing of our
God on both king and people, or to intercede for
their sins. The vengeance of the Almighty must
surely fall heavily on such atrocious acts and well
will it be for our king, if his deep-felt contrition
can atone for his sin; since, doubtless it is
remorse that pales his cheek and overshadows his
brow with gloom, and well may it do so. Greatly
indeed do I love our sovereign; at his bidding I
would gladly peril my life, suffer uncomplainingly
hunger and thirst, endure summer’s heat or winter’s
frost, for the furtherance of the welfare of him or
his house; but with all the love I bear him, I must
say that this cruel deed will be an everlasting blot
on his name.”
“O, it is disgraceful,” said a third, “that there
could exist one, a stranger by birth though he be to
Israel, who could execute so revolting a command.”
“Ah,” replied a fourth, “it was a sore and heavy
crime; why did not our nobles and chiefs expostulate
with the king.”
Saul stayed to hear no more; his heart was smitten
anew, and he strode hastily along, his mind a prey
to long slumbering but now freshly awakened remorse
of conscience, and he withdrew into the interior of
his tent, without permitting any one to approach
him. The shadows of evening had long darkened the
earth ere he again appeared before the people, and
then, with a countenance still anxious and dejected,
and with slow and heavy steps, he paced the green
turf before his tent, where, as he turned round, he
saw standing near him two of his officers, who held
high rank in his household; they had been his
playmates in youth ere a thought of his high destiny
had entered his mind; they had fought by his side
since he ruled over Israel, and were even now his
most trusty and confidential advisers. As Saul
advanced to where they stood, they ceased their
whispered conversation, and boldly yet respectfully
stepped forward, unmindful of his evident desire to
avoid speaking with them.
“Pardon our boldness,” said one, “but if we would
inquire why the countenance of my lord, the king,
should be so sad, and why should his soul be
troubled. Full well we know that no weak fear
disturbs thy breast, that no distrust of thy
faithful servants disquiets thee; say then, our
much-loved lord, what secret grief
<<29>>torments
thee? if thou wouldst but reveal the cause of thy
trouble to thy servants, it might be that we could
find a speedy remedy for its removal.”
“Pardon the freedom of thy servants," spoke the
other,” but my comrade and I have, together with the
other faithful followers of thy house, remarked the
ill-concealed trouble of soul of my lord the king;
fain would we see thee as thou wart in happier days;
and wouldst thou but reveal the secret of thy grief
to our ears, the remedy, if it be in our power,
shall be found, if it be even at the risk of our
lives.”
“And so say I,” resumed the first; “refuse not, I
entreat thee, the prayer of thy servants, but reveal
to us whatever be the stroke of evil that oppresses
thy soul.”
The king had listened in silence; his face had
assumed a more deadly whiteness, and a cold shudder
passed over his frame; his countenance for a moment
seemed convulsed by the strength of his emotions;
then with a strong effort he appeared to calm the
conflicting feelings which distracted him, and he
looked hastily round, as if to see whether any one
was within hearing of his speech. The scene which he
viewed, but a short time ago so stirring, was now
peaceful and calm; the white tents of the encampment
looked yet more white in the clear, pale moonbeams,
whilst by the entrance of a few of them might be
observed groups of two or three figures standing in
earnest conversation, though the greater number of
them were already occupied by their brave tenants,
who had sought their simple beds, and were in their
imagination pursuing the flying foe, or lying
bleeding and perishing on the blood-stained earth.
Long did Saul gaze on the widespread camp, but no
one save his two trusty servants were near; at
length, with a deep-drawn sigh and with a powerful
struggle to control his emotion, he spoke as
follows: “Know ye, or either of ye, a man or woman
skilled in the arts of the former inhabitants of
this land? one who has power to control the unknown
spirits of the air, or wake from their resting-place
the souls of the dead? for with such a one would I
commune, that I may learn thereby the issue the
coming battle. I know that it is a breach of the law
of our teacher, Moses, to inquire of such
<<30>>but
I can remain in uncertainty no longer. I have not
been able to obtain an answer to my inquiries from
the prophets and priests; all told me, the Lord
replied not to them when they question for me; they
are doubtless irritated at the just punishment which
by my orders befell Ahimelech and his traitorous
associates when they favoured the escape of that
rebel, the son of Jesse, the Bethlehemite, and even
gave him the consecrated bread from the table of the
sanctuary; but they shall yet feel the weight of my
indignation when I return victorious overt the
insolent Philistines. Think not, brave and
well-tried friends, that the desire to know what
good or evil may betide me, arises from any doubt of
the fidelity of my trusty host; for well I know
their valour and attachment to me and my house. But
an unwonted sensation, causeless and indescribable,
oppresses me. Imagine not it is the fear of death,
or dread of defeat, for it is not so; but it is a
feeling of deep gloom which I cannot cast off, a
shrinking, a trembling of my very heart, which I
strive against in vain, which weighs down my soul;
and when this morning I viewed from afar the cam of
the enemy, a sudden chilliness ran through my limbs,
whilst the blood seemed to thicken in my veins. Oh,
what can be the cause of this unwonted feeling in me
who never feared before!”
He
paused for an instant, and then resumed his speech
with quivering lip, and voice broken by emotion:
“Oh, if ye but know of such a one as I have named,
speak quickly, if you would grant the entreaty of
your king.”
“Such a one as my lord desires to consult,” answered
the one who had first spoken, “I know well enough;
but thou must not forget my lord, how in times past
thou didst devote to death, or drive from the land,
all the professors of the secret art; and if thou
wouldst seek out this one, a woman deeply skilled in
the magic power, she must not recognise thee as the
King of Israel, otherwise the fear of the penalty
which aforetime thou didst inflict on others as
skilful as she in sorcery, will prevent her from
exercising her power, which she then will strive to
conceal from thee.”
“Oh,” said the other, “thou surely speakest not of
her who dwells at Endor?”
<<31>>
“The same,” replied his companion; “truly is she a
wise and a skilful woman, my lord; she holds by her
art, subservient to her will, a spirit who will at
her command reveal the events of the future to such
as she may favour; but of late she has refused to
exercise her sorcery, for she is fearful of sharing
the fate of those whom thou, my lord, has formerly
doomed to death.”
“Knowest thou her dwelling?” eagerly demanded the
king.
“I
know it well.”
“Then by to-morrow’s eve we will assume a disguise
which will effectually conceal our station, and seek
her presence; and thus I hope to penetrate by her
assistance into the dark obscurity of the future,
which is otherwise denied me. Farewell; I leave to
you the task of providing fitting raiment, and
to-morrow, relying on your discretion and secrecy, I
will repair to this woman's dwelling.”
The officers made their obeisance and withdrew to
their quarters.
(To be continued.) |
