When they left for the airport a couple of hours later, I said, “I’ll see you at the Light House then.” This life was certainly getting interesting. I’d had a few interesting lives. Of course, the fiasco at the catacombs was about the same as my fight with Goliath, in that it was easier than expected. The Israelites had been fighting with the Philistines in the Valley of Elah roughly three thousand years ago.
* * * *
1020 BCE
The smell of rain lingered in the air over the valley, as I walked up the narrow wooded path leading to the field where our men camped. I could hear the cries and moans from those who had been injured in the last battle, lying on the outskirts of the camp to either get well or die.
Occasionally, a family member would be near enough to come take care of the injured, but many of the men came from far provinces and were alone…and would die alone. In the clearing many tents were fashioned with wooden poles, cloth, and ropes. The smaller ones were nearest the edge and gradually got bigger towards the center of the circle, with the largest—King Saul’s tent—in the very middle.
For forty days the giant Goliath had challenged the Israelites to send a champion out, so that single combat could determine the outcome of the battle. All feared to make the attempt to defeat such a large opponent, seemingly standing ten feet tall. Even King Saul was afraid. I was usually far from the battlefield being the youngest of seven brothers. This day I had brought food for my elder brothers.
“My thanks, David,” Jesse said grabbing a chicken leg to chew on.
“You are welcome, brother. How goes the fight today?” I asked.
“Again, Goliath has challenged us, calling for a champion. That Philistine cannot be beaten, and all fear to confront him. Saul has promised to reward any man who defeats Goliath,” Jesse added between bites.
“Why have you not volunteered to meet him on the battlefield?” I asked. I knew Jesse to be a brave and competent warrior.
“Have you not seen him? He stands two heads taller than any man on the field. A warrior cannot even get close enough to swing a blade,” he said, astounded that I would even ask such a thing.
It was true though that I had not seen this Goliath with my own eyes. I would remedy that today. I exited the tent and went to the top edge of the hill that led down into the valley. Often it was where the commanders of our army stood to observe the battles.
And there he was. As Jesse had stated, he stood at least two heads taller than anyone around. One arm seemed almost as long as I was tall. He wore gold armor that sparkled from the sun bright enough to blind an opponent. His spear had a haft as thick as my forearm and the length of two men, one standing upon the head of the other. The spear tip was the size of my sword. A difficult opponent to be matched against, but not if one could stay out of his reach, I thought. I went to the king’s tent and asked to speak to King Saul.
When I entered, the tent was full of generals, and it was clear that they’d been discussing battle strategy. In the corner sat the harp that I would occasionally play for Saul when he was not feeling well. I would be called in from the fields to go to the king. My playing soothed him he said and allowed him to think more clearly.
“Sire, I wish to accept the challenge of Goliath on the battlefield tomorrow,” I said in way of greeting.
“What?” Saul, as well as the others, was astounded.
“I will fight Goliath,” I restated standing as straight as I could. I knew that they thought I was too young. After all, they had me herding sheep rather than fighting.
“While I appreciate your offer young David, I cannot allow you to fight him. You would surely be slaughtered.”
“You have no other who is willing,” I stated with confidence.
“While that is true, you are too important to your king to chance your inevitable death at the hands of the Philistine,” Saul said.
“Sire, I mean no disrespect, but I will fight Goliath.” At my statement, there was a general mulling of conversation in which I heard words about my youth, anger, and strength. At last Saul reluctantly agreed that I should face Goliath and even offered me his own armor. I declined. If I was close enough that I needed armor, I was too close.
Instead I chose to take only my sling. I used it, and my bag of stones, every day to keep the wolves from the sheep. One of them was a special silver stone. Only a demon could look the way Goliath did.
The next morning, when Goliath stepped forth from the Philistine army and offered his challenge, I went out to meet him. He grinned in anticipation.
“I shall cut you down Israelite, drink your blood, and eat your soul,” he laughed.
“This day, the Light has delivered you into my hand, and I shall strike you down,” I responded with certainty.
He paused momentarily at my words but then started for me with a challenging roar. I stood my ground and started swinging my sling. When he was in range, I hurled the silver stone with all my might. It hit Goliath in the very center of one of his eyes and sank in. At the impact, his head snapped backward, and as he was in the middle of a stride, his legs splayed outward at different angles when he went down.
I ran to him, pulling a small silver knife that was only three inches long from my belt. I jabbed it into his forearm just for good measure. It took longer than usual for the demon to start to smoke. I’m not sure if it was the size or just that it was a small amount of silver. Either way, when Goliath finally started to smoke, and at long last disappeared, the Philistine army panicked and fled into the surrounding hills while the Israelites cheered.
* * * *
The Present
The ease in which we had left the catacombs bothered me. It reminded me too strongly of the ease of defeating Goliath. The problem of Goliath had seemed enormous but had a remarkably easy solution. The catacombs too seemed complicated. But when we had gotten there expecting an enormous opposition, we found very little. It left me uneasy.
Thinking of Goliath always led to thinking of Bathsheba. Of course, I had defeated Saul and become king by the time she entered my life. That was when I learned the moral and ethical lessons of having too much pride and coveting what wasn't mine. It was true that power corrupts even the most incorruptible of souls. The punishment of having my kingdom ripped apart by my son, Absalom, who led an insurrection, plunging the kingdom into civil war, did not force me to regret my actions with regard to Bathsheba. Now, every life I live, I long for her. Never satisfied with anyone else because of her.
* * * *
982 BCE
The leaves had blossomed forth from the cherry trees, and I should have been with the army. Instead I stayed in Jerusalem having enough of war for a time. It was on a warm spring day when I finally saw Bathsheba. I was walking the palace roof considering leaving, when I looked down to see her bathing in the courtyard of her home. As the granddaughter of Ahithophel, my favorite counselor, I had naturally seen her before, but not like this. I knew at that moment that I had to have her and ordered her brought before me.
“Sire, you sent for me.” Bathsheba stood there at last, but as I rose and went to stand before her smiling, I caught a whiff of a faint odor that, though mingled with cinnamon, could not be mistaken. When I paused, I saw fear widen her eyes at my expression. She knew I recognized what she was.
“You are a demon!” I fairly shouted at her. It could not be! I would have to kill her now.
“Yes, sire, but I have not harmed anyone for many, many years. I wish only to live in the Light. Please do not banish me to the Dark!” She begged, clutching at my arm. And standing there, staring into her eyes, I knew that I would not be able to kill her—to see that spark dissapate into the Dark. I wanted her too much.
“You will have to stay with me then,” I told her brusquely. “So that I can make sure you harm no one.”
“But, sire, I am married to Uriah the Hittite, one of your mighty men. When he is home as he is now, I must be with him.” The men rotated home to be able to spend
time with their families. I was going to return to the battle with the next group of men. Now I would not be able to leave her.
“I will send for Uriah. You are to settle in my chambers. I will be with you soon.”
When Uriah stood before me at last in his stiffened leather armor, I gave him a message for my generals. Though he did not know it, he carried his own death sentence. In the note I ordered my generals to place Uriah on the front lines—and to abandon him to the enemy.
What was it about her that lured me? She was extraordinary with her long, black hair, dark eyes, and olive complexion, but it was something almost indefinable that appealed to me. Some inner peace and strength she possessed that drew me to her side. It was so strong that I committed murder to be with her…a crime that I have regretted almost from that day forward. But at first I was only pleased to be able to marry her and have her bear my children. I had other children, but the son Bathsheba and I produced was to be king after me. Solomon.
14 Solomon
The hospital’s emergency room was similar to ones in the United States. The main room’s walls were bordered with dark blue plastic chairs. They were welded together on a metal base in rows containing four at a time, separated by a small square table. Then placed in the center of the room two rows of the chairs back to back. Behind a tall desk, a receptionist guarded a set of double doors leading to the area everyone wanted to get to—the one with the doctors and the curtained beds.
The waiting area contained about ten people, and the nurse said that it might be up to two hours before my foot could be x-rayed. I was certain it was broken—too many broken bones in my lives not to know the feeling. Jarret and I cleaned up as best we could in the men’s room and then settled down to wait in a quiet corner of the room.
“David’s right,” Jarret said still holding his arm close to his body. “Something’s off with this whole setup.”
“I agree, but what could we do? We had to go in, and there really were demons there.”
“How many other warriors do you remember meeting?” he asked me.
“I can think of two. I never saw anything like this until New York. How about you?”
“Well, I really don’t remember anything at all. I met Diana and helped her defeat a demon, so she explained everything to me. She’s the one who sent me to the Light House. Since then nothing.”
“You don’t remember anything?” It was a strange thought.
“No, nothing. If I hadn’t met Diana, I never would have known about demons.”
“Then how do you know you’re a warrior?” He ran the risk of losing his soul without the potential reward of being reborn. Reward? Perhaps his returning to the Light would be the true reward.
“Well, Diana left a diary in the house. During the life in which she bought it, she said that she didn’t remember anything about previous lives. A fortune teller actually told her she’d been reborn, and that she was about to die again. The woman told her that her life was a life in which she was to rest from the struggle.”
“And she believed her?” My mother had enjoyed the gift of foresight, and until people began to fear her, they would come for miles around to speak with her.
“Yes, apparently the woman knew something no one else could’ve known. So Diana started researching reincarnation, ESP and such. She believed the fortune teller so implicitly that she set the Light House up so that any Diana could have access to it. Well, she set up some restrictions, but it was to be carried on so that she could get to it in any of her next lives.
“So you think this is your time to rest?”
“What else could it be?” Jarret asked. “Otherwise, I’m just your average Joe who happens to know a little too much about demons. Besides, I’d really like to think that if I die fighting them, then I’ll be reborn to try again, you know?” He smiled at me.
“Just an FYI, but you’re not resting much.” I returned the smile. I hadn't known him long but I felt a sense of kinship with him. It was strange, this feeling of having known him before. Perhaps I had. I had the same sense with David. But surely he wasn't who I thought. If he was, wouldn't I have recognized him right away? My memories seemed different from the other warriors. I remembered decades of some lives and then some lives the memories almost always focused on military actions, strategy, and battles. It had made me an excellent marine. It was strange, this life of being a warrior for the Light.
“I know. Now, why the catacombs?” he wondered. It certainly did make one think.
“Yes, tourists go there but not by the droves. Besides the tourists couldn’t be killed then and there, or the catacombs would be shut down. So bodies have been turning up periodically over an extended period of time in that general vicinity, not necessarily at the catacombs,” I said.
“Not often enough to draw suspicion in the ordinary course of events, until a curious reporter started an investigation,” said Jarret.
“Yes, and from the reporter’s articles, a bishop at the Vatican, who just happened to have survived a demon attack, puts the signs together and calls for help.”
“Plus, it was that same bishop who turned the Catacombs of St. Domitilla over to those monks Helen went to see. It seems a little too connected, if you know what I mean,” he added thoughtfully.
“Right, because he doesn’t tell someone how to go kill a demon, instead he seems to want actual warriors,” I said in agreement.
After a moment of contemplation, I added, “I’ve felt all along that this situation was too carefully orchestrated. Like we were walking into a trap. That’s why I didn’t want anyone to know about us. Bishop Soratino only knew about Diana, and she told him that she wasn’t going in for a day or two because she had to prepare, get weapons and such.”
I knew all about traps, considering I had been caught in several. Of course, the actual catacombs themselves had reminded me of a much more elaborate maze through which I had hunted a demon once.
* * * *
962 BCE
I was in Daedalus’ workshop, which was a confusing and amazing spectacle, full of various tools, mysterious artifacts, and half finished statues—one of Daedalus himself, looking upward mournfully. How had he created such expression in stone? I wondered as I examined it. I realized it appeared to have eyeballs underneath the eyebrows. Fascinating.
A long, bench-like table lined the far back wall with stacks of wood and blocks of stone set underneath, chisels and hammers lying on top amidst bits and pieces of metal and other, unknown debris. On the right side of the room as you entered it, three enormous windows stretching from floor to ceiling allowed sunlight to blaze in. The light only blocked by an enormous model of half a ship with a new front being assembled.
To the left, a cot was set up in the corner where Daedalus would nap, as he never knew at what time inspiration would strike or leave, and he was wont to spend many hours at any time of day or night within his workshop. Nearby a couple of chairs were placed conveniently close by.
On the final wall leading away from the cot towards the workbench, many hooks were placed from which hung various items, but what was most amazing—a pair of giant bird wings. One was just a wooden outline suggesting a falling teardrop, but the other was covered with actual feathers attached by what felt like beeswax as I ran my fingers gently over a few.
In the very center of the room hung a massive, metal column, which hovered over a stone furnace in order to expel the smoke and hot gases.
“I have finished,” Daedalus stated that fine, sunny day. “The Minotaur was guided into the Labyrinth this morning.”
“I am too late to help you then?” I asked him, and he nodded. The entire Mediterranean area had heard of the monster on the island of Crete. Appearing at Knossos, it had killed many men—every man that had attacked it, in fact. My friend Daedalus had been called on to build an elaborate maze, a labyrinth, to house the creature that was half bull and half human—a demon, I felt sure.
King Minos did not want
to incur the wrath of the gods, so rather than killing it outright, he wanted to imprison it. Of course, the idea of imprisoning it only occurred to him after first attempting to kill the Minotaur, as they called it, and all the weapons used had been ineffective.
Several men had tried cutting it down with swords, but they did not realize that the weapon that needed to be used was silver. With that knowledge, I had arrived on Crete with the intention of attacking and killing the creature. But the king’s decree that the creature be imprisoned instead of killed somewhat hampered me. He had set guards around the area where the demon was corralled, and I couldn’t get to it. The king did not want any more soldiers dying in vain.
“How did you get the creature to go in voluntarily?” I wondered aloud.
“We sent seven male virgins into the underground maze to await it. Then seven female virgins spread out to entice the Minotaur to the entrance and on into the Labyrinth. The king decreed that the Athenians must provide the sacrifice for their role in his son’s death.”
Minos’ son, Androgeus, excelled at the games put on by Aegeas of Athens. He won every contest. In a fit of jealousy, the other contestants had killed Androgeus. In his anger, Minos declared war on Athens. Minos finally offered peace to Athens, but only if they would send seven virgin girls and seven young men to satisfy the Minotaur’s hunger. Virgins were considered pure and, therefore, closer to the gods. They make the most suitable sacrifice to the gods with such purity.
“How do you expect the Minotaur to remain within the Labyrinth? Won’t it just leave?” I asked him.
“My friend, that maze is so complex that I almost could not find my way out, and I designed it! There are multiple levels, stairs to nowhere, tunnels that end in dead end rooms. Now that the creature is within, it will not be able to find its way out again.”
“What about killing it?” I asked him.
“King Minos fears the gods’ wrath. Besides, the creature has been impossible to kill. Many young men have tried and failed. But I hear that one has come from Athens, one Theseus. He swears he will kill it and find his way out again.”