it was with a sureness born of confidence.
*
On a forenoon like any other, when David had withdrawn from the flocks, as he did more and more, a woman appeared. David had seen her before: she was from Gallim, a settlement near Bethlehem, and sustained herself by making bowls. She had on a clean light red robe, with no smears of the clay used in her work. Her head covering had fallen back, and he saw that there was ribbon around her long hair. This was elaborate for a workday.
David knew that she was a kind of suspended widow. She had lost her husband four years earlier, but as no one had seen his body, or could swear for certain that he was dead, and he had left no close male relatives, she had remained stranded. It was customary for men to divorce their wives, temporarily, when they left on a campaign, but her husband had carelessly not done so. She was juicy, and unfulfilled.
It was a time when the sparse season was over. The stony land was sprouting grass, rock roses, poppies, anemones, buttercups and tulips. Almonds were blossoming and the perfumed air was warm. The woman’s face, flushed from climbing, shone with pleasure at the success of her quest. She was not yet twenty-two, and her figure, somewhat defined by the tight girdle confining her robe, was graceful. Over her arm she carried a reed basket.
Lutist of Bethlehem she said, I’ve brought you a midday meal.
I have food David said, guarded. Bread and cheese.
But here are olives, figs and raisins, and even some wine. Please, she said let me serve you.
David followed and then took the lead. He knew of a hollow well out of sight of the herds. It was fortunate that almost everyone else went no farther than their own boundaries, or did anything other than their customary tasks. And it was the time of the afternoon sleep; with the workday beginning at dawn, by then people were dozing. What is your name? he said.
Rachel she answered, smiling, and wet her lips. They sat and she began setting out her treats. The sun, almost overhead in a clear sky, was hot, and she undid the belt-like girdle. Her loosened cloak fell open and for a moment parted enough to reveal a curved breast. She pulled the front together, and then glanced at David. He had dropped his gaze to his lap and was rummaging in his bag, placed there as if for ease, but really to cover the swelling protuberance under his tunic. They ate, but mostly with their eyes. Rachel’s were brown, and mischievous. Her look was coy, then frankly sensuous. David’s shifted between her amorous regard and her body. Then she put a hand on his bare forearm. Take me she said.
They made a bed of their clothing. David was glad that he had learnt cleanliness from his father. Hesitantly, he touched her breasts, then kissed and suckled them in a surge of desire. She lay back and drew him down.
I’ve — I’ve never done this he said.
Sh-h-h she said, and taking hold of his aroused member guided it into her.
There seemed no limit to her moist interior. David felt very small. Not only physically; he was terrified of doing the wrong thing. But not much movement soon crested in a mutual paroxysm and discharge. He lay on her, triumphant and ashamed. She sighed and held him. They were covered with a fine sweet perspiration, like dew. He raised his head and searched her ruddy face for discontent. It was fine she said.
I’m sorry I’m little.
You’re not! she laughed. The Lord has endowed you there too!
*
David was exultant. He felt strong, manly, potent. At the same time humble, and filled with gratitude for the tender gift that had been given him. In his mind he saw the surge of her breasts, her soft belly and firm thighs, and the welcoming opening. More than once he wanted to fall down and pay homage for her existence.
Rachel came to him several times. In between he longed for her with an almost physical craving, visualizing her image and being virtually overcome with need. When they were together he stroked her skin, whispered loving words, and nudged her in places that were ticklish and made her giggle, so that they laughed together. David was continually smiling. Delight bubbled up in him. He spouted all sorts of nonsensical, naughty and witty puns and ditties that amused her and made her impulsively kiss him. He brought her gifts of blossoms and fashioned her necklaces and bracelets of flowers. She was careful to leave them behind when she went home.
But once, on an overcast day, just before dark, when he met her furtively near Gallim, she held back. This time she was wearing a grey, everyday robe. My absences have been noticed she said. People are talking. I don’t want to be stoned.
David protested that they could be more careful.
There’s another thing she said. An Aramean, come for trade, says my husband was captured as a slave, and died in service a short time later. If he is believed, then I can get a man of my own.
David was silent. He knew he would not be that man.
*
He became zealous in looking after the herds. Every morning he saw that the goats to be milked were driven into their paddocks, and he roamed the edges of the flocks, carrying the stout stick of smoothed olive wood that was usually enough to warn off a swooping falcon or a night-stalking hyena. The herders, unused to such close attention, wished he would go back to his negligent ways.
He missed his woman, any woman. Now, self-gratification felt unsatisfying and distinctly shameful. His seeming manhood, so swiftly acquired, languished for lack of an outlet. He was too proud, and shy, and afraid of repercussions, to entice any neighbourhood girls, except in imagination. Rachel had come to him, and he hoped another would. But no one did, and he expressed his frustration in verses that were both exultant and yearning. Most of those he abandoned as he again took up his solitary ways.
Among the hills where the sheep were pastured there were swampy pockets that seldom dried out. Some of these contained crocodiles, and all of them provided water and cover for the wild animals that roamed the land, and the birds that constantly flew and sounded over it. Sometimes David would go close to such a place, attracted by the warblers, ravens, swifts, herons and, if he was lucky, the gorgeously plumed hoopoe.
*
One hot early evening, when dusk had already diminished sight, he noticed movement behind a clump of thorn bushes. He went closer. The stirring appeared at both ends of the thicket. Whatever was there was huge. The sheep were already bunching away from it, treading on one another to escape the smell. David circled, and was confronted with a full-grown male lion. The beast hesitated, glancing between David and the flock. A boy with a stick didn’t seem particularly formidable, while rich food was just a few bounds away. The first stone caught the animal on the side of its head, but glanced off the skull. Dismayed, the lion uttered a low growl. The second stone struck him in the mouth. Enraged, he pawed to spit it out, roared and began his charge. The third stone hit between the eyes. The lion stopped, dazed, and wavered a little. More stones followed. The creature sank to its knees. Highly excited, hardly stopping to catch his breath, David threw rock after rock at it. Peppered by this incessant, wounding pelting, the lion slowly toppled to its side. The animal’s breast rose and fell.
Attracted by the disturbance, the herders came running. They helped David smash down heavy jagged boulders. In his death throes the large cat clawed at the hard ground. At last the huge beast lay still. One of the herders had a knife. Taking it from him, David plunged it repeatedly into the body where he thought the heart should be. A fetid smell came from the mouth. Blood was running around the limp tongue and out between the sharp teeth. The scratched earth became
