Chapter FIFTY-THREE

En-Gedi

Water and stone offered refuge, but not rest.

From the mountain of escape Davin went up to dwell in the strongholds of En-gedi.

The place felt like contradiction given geography.

Sheer rock.

Wild-goat crags.

Then, all at once, green.

Springs broke out of the cliffside and ran down into palms, reeds, and the kind of oasis growth that looks almost indecent after days of hard Judean stone. Ibex watched from impossible ledges with the composure of creatures convinced, correctly, that human beings are underqualified for their terrain.

The six hundred took the change badly at first. Men accustomed to running from ridge to ridge do not trust beauty when hunted. They search it for hidden lines of approach, for where archers might stand, for whether water means exposure before it means relief.

Davin searched it too.

Then he let them drink -- not extravagantly, but enough.

They made camp among the cave-scarred heights where retreat and concealment could be negotiated together. The families settled lower, under the better cover. Hard men kept the upper paths. Abiathar remained near Davin, the ephod now as much part of the camp's life as any spear or sling-bag.

If Adullam had been the beginning of wilderness kingship, En-gedi felt like its first schooling in abundance that cannot be possessed.

Water can save a hunted company.

It can also betray it by making them linger.

Saul returned from striking the Philistines and was told, "Behold, Davin is in the wilderness of En-gedi."

So the king took three thousand chosen men out of all Yisrael and went to seek Davin and his men in front of the Wild Goats' Rocks.

Three thousand again.

The number had begun to feel less like arithmetic than liturgy.

Saul believed he could always call three thousand down in service of his fear.

It was one of the reasons the fear had survived this long. Institutions can keep wicked men alive past their moral expiration date by continuing to translate obsession into logistics.

The scouts brought the report by midday.

Hador spat into the dust.

"He really does like that number."

"It answers him too readily," Eliav said.

The answer was dry enough to surprise three men into brief laughter, which Eliav bore with the expression of someone already regretting having accidentally improved the hour for others.

Davin crouched over the scratched map-lines in the sand and considered the king's approach.

En-gedi's caves offered concealment.

They also offered trap geometry.

A larger force entering the region could turn cave mouths into sealed graves if the wrong hollow were chosen.

So he moved the company deeper, split them again by path, and held the main body in one of the larger inner caves where shadow swallowed men faster than daylight could count them from the mouth.

The air there was cool, sour with bat scent, and old with mineral damp. Outside, light burned white on the cliff faces. Inside, voices shrank and steps learned humility.

Toward evening a scout came in low and fast.

"The king's line is nearer than we thought."

Davin rose.

"How near?"

"Near enough that men are relieving themselves in ravines instead of waiting for proper camp."

That was answer enough.

The cave held the whole company by then in layered dark.

Men pressed back from the mouth. Families farther in. Watchers on both shoulders of the entrance where the first outline of anyone entering would reveal itself against the light.

Davin crouched with Hador, Eliav, and two others in the deeper shade, every sense narrowed.

The day had gone windless.

Outside, even the water seemed to fall more quietly.

Then a single figure broke from the bright entrance and stepped in.

Saul.

Alone.

He had come to cover his feet in the cave mouth while his army remained spread on the outer approaches, confident enough in the region's saturation by his own chosen men to imagine privacy where none existed.

For one long moment the absurdity of it almost overpowered the danger.

The king who hunted six hundred men with three thousand had just entered, unguarded, into the dark where the hunted sat no more than a few spear-lengths away.

The men nearest Davin felt it at once.

Opportunity moved through them like a second heartbeat.

Hador's hand tightened on his knife.

One of the younger men mouthed without sound, Now.

Eliav said nothing.

He only looked at Davin.

That was enough pressure.

Outside, Saul bent in the cave's nearer chamber, silhouetted and vulnerable.

Inside, the whole wilderness seemed to hold its breath waiting to see what kind of king exile had been making in the dark.