The Stone of Ebenezer

By Susan Van Volkenburgh

NAGAD's life was perfect until it was torn apart by the ravages of war. Now, haunted by his past, this young conscript must meet the enemy in battle. With shaking rage the nations collide in a fierce conflict for dominance. Yet more is at stake than the survival of a people. The dispute contests the claim of immortal supremacy, the outcome to prove whose god reigns omnipotent.

And so, Nagad of Benjamin pushes on through the raging tide of battle. But to no avail. Soon crushed by the mighty war machine of Philistia, thousands of Hebrew soldiers lay slaughtered upon the carrion infested field. Hope has abandoned them. Then it is remembered, that in the days of their fathers, any army that bore the Ark of the Covenant could not be defeated. They need the Ark, for only then can the Chosen of God prevail against the enemy.

But they are wrong.

"An amazing, vivid account of biblical events is historically accurate where God's judgments, treacherous journeys, blood battles and even romance come alive to the reader in this skillfully written epic story." -Rev. Judith Wiegman

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Jul 16, 2015
• ISBN: 9781490882277

Susan Van Volkenburgh

Susan Van Volkenburgh is the coordinator for a homeschool group in Keller, Texas. Prior to 1995, Susan was a registered nurse in oncology. As a member the Van Martins, Susan can be found traveling to area churches using her musical talents for the purpose of dispensing the Gospel.

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Copyright © 2015 Susan Van Volkenburgh.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

WestBow Press

A Division of Thomas Nelson & Zondervan

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.westbowpress.com

1 [phone]

Edited by Karen Summerville

Cover illustration by Heather Avary

Map illustration by Susan Van Volkenburgh; digitalized by Heather Avary

Title Page illustration designed by Susan Van Volkenburgh, illustrated by Heather Avary

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Scripture taken from the New King James Version. Copyright © 1979, 1980, 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-4908-8228-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4908-8229-1 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4908-8227-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015909010

WestBow Press rev. date: 7/15/2015

CONTENTS

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Foreword

Prologue

PART THE FIRST

Chapter 1 A Dire Need

Chapter 2 The Seat of God

Chapter 3 Raging Waters

Chapter 4 Mountain of Promise

Chapter 5 A Just Cause

Chapter 6 A Storm Approaches

Chapter 7 Kohen Godol

Chapter 8 In the Presence of the Enemy

PART THE SECOND

Chapter 9 A Holy Prize

Chapter 10 Ashdod

Chapter 11 Sooth-Sayer

Chapter 12 Writhing in the Night

Chapter 13 Ramah

Chapter 14 The Naioth

Chapter 15 Riots and Wrath

Chapter 16 Gath

Chapter 17 Darkness Descends

Chapter 18 The Mask of Death

Chapter 19 Leave-Taking

Chapter 20 The Flame of Doom

Chapter 21 A Shared Curse

Chapter 22 Reparation

Chapter 23 The Threshing

Chapter 24 Banished

Chapter 25 Riyphah

PART THE THIRD

Chapter 26 Bloodlust

Chapter 27 Mizpah

Chapter 28 Shattered

Chapter 29 Retribution

Chapter 30 Requited

Chapter 31 The Stone of Ebenezer

Appendix A – Glossary

Appendix B – Hebrew Terms

Appendix C – People

Appendix D – Place Names

References

Bibliography

Other Books by Susan Van Volkenburgh

To all those who have fought the good fight.

2 TIMOTHY 4:7

FOREWORD

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Rev. Judith Wiegman

As I begin this Foreword, I am reminded of the call from Susan when she completed her manuscript, "The Stone of Ebenezer." Months before, she had contacted me to pray about writing the Foreword; a request that aroused a feeling of deep responsibility. I am a pastor, author, and faith writer columnist but this was more than a writing assignment, more than a column for the newspaper, it was a call from Susan’s heart to mine; one I accepted with feelings of immense humility.

Susan and I met when as a children’s pastor; I taught her three children in a Dallas area church. Our mutual love for prayer, music, and writing, bound our hearts and minds together as kindred spirits. One summer I learned of Susan’s love for biblical, historical accuracy when she created booths for a children’s vacation Bible school. The children were intrigued to step back in time and experience life in the little village of Nazareth where Jesus grew in "wisdom, and stature and in favor with God and men."¹

I agonized with Susan and her family upon learning how deeply they were all wounded two years prior to our meeting in the powerful tragedy of September 11, 2001. They were forced to travel a journey, not of their choice, but theirs just the same. One of the passengers aboard American Airlines Flight 77 that hit the Pentagon was her father, Stanley R. Hall. I prayed diligently for her as she struggled to publish her first book, SILENT RESOLVE AND THE GOD WHO LET ME DOWN. I share her grief each time I pick up the book and re-read any portion.

During our times together, Susan would share about another book gathering momentum in her heart and head. As an author I could certainly relate and was not surprised when she completed her second work, THE STONE OF EBENEZER. Susan sent this message: "I am sending the manuscript certified mail. It is always a frightening thing to put your manuscript in the mail. It is like sending your child away unsupervised." Her choice of words struck a memory in my thoughts as they wandered to an Old Testament mother who placed her child in a basket made of bulrushes and sent him away unsupervised. As the mother gave the basket a small push, she trusted God to provide a person who would receive the child and care for him. ²

I could picture Susan as the manuscript left her hands in Texas headed for mine in Pennsylvania. It arrived! Overwhelmed by excitement, I signed for the treasured box. I held it in my hands, called immediately to announce its safe arrival and curled up in a sunny spot to begin an incredible journey that began long ago in Ancient Israel. A journey traveled by Old Testament characters, re-born in Susan’s heart, now ready for anxious readers such as myself.

As I began to read, I envisioned the daunting task Susan faced as the overwhelming I must write feeling flooded her mind repeatedly in the early dawn. I marveled at the countless hours of research she logged in on this work. Her dedication allowed her to portray the events found in I Samuel chapters 4–7. Its amazing, vivid account of biblical events is historically accurate. The Bible states "So the Philistines fought, and the Israelites were defeated and every man fled to his tent. The slaughter was very great; Israel lost thirty thousand foot soldiers. The ark of God was captured and Eli’s two sons Hophni and Phinehas died."³ God’s judgments, treacherous journeys, blood battles and even romance come alive to the reader in this skillfully written epic story.

Portrayed in her book are characters brought forward from Old Testament antiquity and presented face to face for the reader to experience. This novel draws the reader to be at home in the Old Testament setting. Woven throughout its pages, the reader will readily see the hand of God as it moved in times past to protect the ark of God and the chosen children, Israel. It will allow the reader to grasp the fact that God’s faithfulness to His Word in both blessing and judgment has not changed and can be claimed by us today.

I am honored to introduce this work by Susan Van Volkenburgh and to encourage her to pursue the completion of the series, TRILOGY OF KINGS.

Then Samuel took a stone and set it up between Mizpah and Shen, and called its name Ebenezer, saying, Thus far the Lord has helped us.

1 SAMUEL 7:12

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PROLOGUE

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Time was when the world was young that El-Elohim, the Creator, whose name is Yahweh, gathered together a people to call His own. A promise He gave to Abraham, the father of these children of men, chosen to be a race for His possession, a people beget by faith. To this tribal band the pledge was given to become a great nation, a multitude to prosper in a land endowed. Twelve tribes arose, emerging as descendants from this troth, an espoused lineage bound by the blood oath to their God. The children of Israel, as they came to be called, made a covenant, a sacred vow, to walk always according to the ways of their Creator.

But the deceitful hand of the Enemy, who thought to cause the chosen to falter, rested heavily upon the people, and he drove them astray, seducing them by the works of darkness. Disregarding the oath, the tribes rebelled against the dominion of Yahweh and did not heed the path laid down for them. Soon they forgot the works of their Creator, pledging themselves to foreign deities. Dismissed by His people, Yahweh, banished, turned His face. A mighty nation arose, overpowering the Israelites, taking them by force into bondage, slaves in a distant land. Four-hundred years passed. It seemed all hope was lost and time had forgotten within the pits of despair, this chosen race. Egypt, it seemed, would be their doom.

Yet in the fullness of time, God, surveying his people, heard their cries, and His heart melted toward them. Pity overtook His wrath and He looked upon them once more. The Creator rose up a deliverer to lead His people out of Egypt. Moses, he was called, guided the chosen, these tribes of the Hebrew, through the wilderness of Paran and delivered them into the land promised them, a land flowing with milk and honey, the land of Canaan. Indeed, the word of the Creator bore true as this race, restored to Yahweh’s favor, grew to a mighty army and conquered the inhabitants of Canaan, establishing for themselves an ordained residence, becoming a great nation.

As time wore on, this chosen band again turned from the ways of the Lord and followed after the Dark One. The pledge broken, the Enemy came against them, casting a blight upon the people. The chosen of Yahweh fell, torn from their Creator. The Lord’s sorrow was great at the loss of His peoples’ fidelity. Looking to purchase His children, to redeem them from the fall, El-Elohim brought forth judges to guide this Hebrew nation in His ways and to restore them to His good favor.

For a time, the people returned, drawing close to their Deliverer, following after His prescribed path. But still, the Enemy waited in the shadows, and in his cunning ways, tempted the Israelites with the images of other gods. The chosen race turned their face, finding delight in foreign deities, until they succumbed, withdrawing from the One True God, and bowed down to these false images as the nations they had conquered had done. They found wives among these heathen peoples. It appeared all bonds of fellowship with their Creator were lost, and the God of Israel would be rejected for all time by those He so lovingly created and protected.

Yet just as hope seemed to fade, a judge, Samuel, rose to lead Israel’s children. Samuel had a great influence on these people of the Hebrew tribes. The pagan images were torn down and the chosen cleansed themselves of their apostasy, returning to the favor of God. But peace would not last long. A shadow and a threat were growing in the west. A Philistine army, like none ever recorded, was advancing upon this Promised Land. The scattered tribes of Israel grew unsettled and terror overwhelmed them. And in this moment of fear, they took upon themselves that which should not have been taken.

PART THE FIRST

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And the cherubim shall stretch out their wings above, covering the mercy seat with their wings, and they shall face one another; the faces of the cherubim shall be toward the mercy seat. You shall put the mercy seat on top of the ark, and in the ark you shall put the Testimony that I will give you. And there I will meet with you, and I will speak with you from above the mercy seat, from between the two cherubim which are on the ark of the Testimony, about everything which I will give you in commandment to the children of Israel.

EXODUS 25: 20–22

CHAPTER 1

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A DIRE NEED

The sun stood at its full height over the once lush valley, laid to ruin by the ravages of war, now a barren wasteland littered with corpses and blood-soaked earth. Heat bore down upon them despite the early spring season. A sanguineous aroma infused the air, mingling with sweat as it ascended to assault the nostrils. Blood spewed forth from his victim as his sword sliced through flesh and bone. Nagad looked with horror at the great slaughter strewn about the field: soldiers ran, bodies fell, smoke rose. He seemed to be caught in a raging tide that threatened to engulf all in its path. The air rang shrill with the sounds of battle: swords clashing, spears splintering, cries of the dying. Nagad retched as he took in the scene.

From behind, he heard the creak of leather and the scrape of metal. Startled, he spun around. He caught the glint of a sword as it struck out at him. Instinctively, the young conscript lifted his shield to block the blade of the large Philistine. The thrust was deflected, but the tip of the sword nicked Nagad on the left shoulder. Down his bare arm, warm blood trickled.

Ha! Well, played Hebrew, scoffed the enemy. But you have been marked by my blade.

He had no voice. The enemy lunged at him with intimidating agility. Spurred on with renewed vigor, Nagad sidestepped, striking his foe across the left flank. The enemy recoiled, drawing himself away from the inflicting blade. But his armor was thick; the sword turned aside, marring the breastplate, yet not biting flesh.

The Philistine growled as he swung down upon the young Hebrew. Nagad brought his shield up to meet the enemy’s blade. His footing gave way as the brutal attack pushed him back.

With unrelenting waves, the adversary beat down the young conscript. Size and experience served the enemy well as the youth struggled to stand against the onslaught. Their swords rang as the contest raged. The young conscript grunted in his effort.

Taking a clout to the head, Nagad fell, landing hard upon his side.

It is enough, spat the enemy.

As he lifted his shield, the young Hebrew pushed with his feet against the hard earth, scrambling away from the foe.

The Philistine paced toward his prey. Standing over the encumbered youth, the enemy raised his sword.

Away with you dog! snarled the Philistine.

Lunging upward with all his strength, Nagad thrust out his blade. The sword met its mark; the end of his blade plunged deep into the gut of his enemy. The Philistine’s eyes widened in surprise as he reached out and grabbed Nagad by the arm.

Slowly, the foe slumped to the ground as he clung to the youth. Hate burned in the young Hebrew’s blood, the rage of past offense. Nagad looked hard into the eyes of the adversary as he drew his last breath.

It is you who must be away.

Pushing the Philistine carcass aside, Nagad turned his attention to the battle at hand. With shield and sword, he entered the fray. Clash for clash, the opposing lines meted out blows of equal valor, though one contender held sway over the other. The Philistine machine was great, trained solely for the fight, all soldiers equipped for war. Even so, both sides grew weary for the battle went long. Where the Hebrews lacked in training and weaponry, they were heavy with stubborn determination. So on the battle issued forth in endless contention, as the tide of men ebbed and flowed over the tarnished field.

Nagad struggled in the thick of battle, overwhelmed by the unbounded supply of enemies. As he dispatched one, another rose to finish the last one’s task. The young conscript wondered how much more he could take. His breath drew short. His sides ached from unbroken battle. Too long the war waged for one so new and untried.

The protracted barrage covered a broad swath of earth astride the ruined valley; two sides vying for the same land, the contentious dispute of fathers afore, passed down from timeworn days.

Wiping the back of his hand across his brow, Nagad turned as his eyes took in the wave of battle that lay before him. Overhead he could see several ossifrages circling. Bone-breakers they were called, those bearded vultures waiting for the opportunity to feast upon the flesh of the slain. Below, winged shadows danced across dying embers of smoldering fields and umbral mounds of fallen men, a pirouette in silent song, toying with the cast down, biding time.

Closing his eyes, the young soldier took a deep breath. In his heart he knew he would never return to the man he had been. Nothing would be as it was before, ere the sight and sounds of death entered his mind.

As he looked again across the field, he drew in a sharp breath, stunned, for fear swept over him. Before him in the fading light, Nagad saw his captain kneeling on one knee, as one in desperate prayer, with head bowed, leaning hard upon his sword. Hurrying over to the weary warrior, Nagad placed a hand upon his shoulder.

Tiphcar, my captain, are you injured?

Nay, the wind taken from me, only. The battle goes ill, my son.

Rising to his feet with some difficulty, Tiphcar, with defeat in his eyes, looked at Nagad. A rivulet of blood trickled down the left side of the captain’s face. Leaning on the conscript, a hand resting upon the young man’s shoulder, Tiphcar, with resignation, called over his shoulder, Sound the retreat.

And so, the trumpet resounded and the call went forth, Retreat! Retreat!

Terror and confusion mounted as the Israelites flew from the field of battle. The Philistines pursued, driving the Chosen of God back toward their camp. As the fleeing soldiers approached Eben-Ezer, their enemy gave off chase, for the day waned and the night grew heavy over the eastern hills. Slowing their pace, the Israelites entered the encampment and took refuge behind the barricade. With sullen faces, the warriors gathered their wounded and wondered at the losses they had sustained.

Nagad assisted Tiphcar to his tent. Within, Nagad espied a chair. Guiding his captain to the seat, the young conscript eased Tiphcar into it. The shelter had two central poles supporting a large roof made of black goat hair. At the center of the room, a table stood with several maps laid out across it. A simple oil lamp hung from one of the center poles overlooking the table. As Nagad stood gazing about the tent, the elders in the camp quietly entered with heads bowed.

Tiphcar lifted his face slowly. What are our losses?

Sar, our best count is near four thousand dead and many others wounded.

Tiphcar sighed, lowering his head as he shook it slowly from side to side in disbelief.

Sar Tiphcar, what are we to do? questioned one of the elders.

Why has the Lord defeated us today before the Philistines? asked another.

The room remained silent for a time as the loss of the day sank deep into the souls of the men. Then slowly, deliberately, one began to speak. Gadowl it was. There was cunning in his voice and all met his words with uplifted eye.

Was it not that in the day of Joshua the children of Israel fought many battles with the Ark of God going before them? And is it not so, that in all battles fought as such, they were victorious?

The elders nodded their heads in agreement, murmuring among themselves.

What is it that you propose, Gadowl? At the sound of the captain’s voice, all murmuring ceased, for Tiphcar’s voice had power to overshadow the others, even after the wear of battle.

Gadowl, the elder, bent his head slightly toward Tiphcar. Let us bring the Ark of the Covenant of the Lord from Shiloh to Eben-Ezer, that when it comes among us, it may save us from the hand of our enemies.

This cannot be, spoke another elder. The Ark of God has not left its seat in the Tent of Meeting since it was placed there by Joshua. This must never be.

Gadowl turned toward the one speaking. Zaqen, my brother, it is our only hope. Their numbers are too great, and their weapons are far superior. There is no other way.

The debate continued for some time in like manner. Nagad, forgotten, stood quietly by his captain, listening to all that was said. Tiphcar, without stirring, looked upon the elders as they spoke to one another with growing fervor. Nagad did not know what to make of the scene before him. He had never witnessed the council of elders in action. As he surveyed Gadowl trying to persuade the others, Nagad felt a growing discomfort. There is something about this man that does not sit well within me.

Nagad reached into his tunic and retrieved an iron spearhead. Looking into the palm of his hand, he ran his finger across its edge, still sharp after these many years. The clangor of men arguing faded, replaced by the sound of a little girl’s laughter. Sun gleamed off her chestnut hair as she twirled in the golden wheat field. She was a beautiful child, full of life and joy. A raven cawed. The vision went blank. Nagad took in his breath sharply as his hand closed tightly over the spearhead.

What do you say, Tiphcar?

Nagad was pulled from his reverie as he became aware of the address made to his captain. All eyes turned to Tiphcar, awaiting his response.

Slowly, Tiphcar, regarding Gadowl as he spoke, asked, Are you certain this will work?

I am sure that with the Ark before us, the battle will be ours.

Nagad.

Startled at the call of his name, Nagad stood straight as he returned the spearhead to the folds of his tunic, placing it into a little pocket that had been sewn within the garment.

Yes, Sar Tiphcar.

You are swift of foot. It was a statement more than a question.

Yes, sar.

Tend to your wound, then run swift as you can to Shiloh. There find the priests Hophni and Phinehas. Tell them all that has transpired, of our dire necessity. Tell them we have need of the Ark of the Covenant, or else all is lost. Go now.

As you wish, Sar Tiphcar.

With that Nagad took leave of the tent and left behind his captain. He had forgotten the wound inflicted upon his arm by the Philistine’s sword. His left arm hung covered in a thick coat of blood, still flowing from the open wound. With uncertainty, Nagad stood surveying his surroundings for the location of the healer’s tent. He had never had need of it prior to this moment. Rows of tents lined neatly across the camp, too many to count, though Nagad knew the Philistine’s camp at Aphek stood much larger.

Scanning the encampment, Nagad grew impatient, weighed down by the urgency of his mission. In due time, he espied the tent of Rephu’ah, the place of healing. He hurried over, aware of the men suffering on nearby mats lined up on either side of the shelter. Many bore the signs of their trials: bandaged wounds with crimson stains. There was one who tended to their needs, providing water to the thirsty and comfort to the dying.

Nagad stood transfixed by the scene before him, burdened by the plight of his people. Touched by a sense of time pressing, he felt the need for deliverance mounting. This would be the fate of all Israel if he were to fail to retrieve the Ark or if he were able to achieve his goal but arrived too late. Then all would be as these men were, wounded and bleeding. The Philistines would show no mercy; all would perish, down to the last child.

Entering the tent, Nagad waited while a healer dressed the wound of a large soldier who sat upon a table at the center of the room. Blood-soaked cloth and torn clothes littered the floor of the makeshift treatment room.

As the soldier left, Nagad approached the rephu’ah who was cleaning off the treatment table.

Without looking up, the healer said, Come, up on the table.

Nagad did as he was instructed.

Silently, the rephu’ah worked on Nagad’s wound. The young conscript sat, watching the healer’s skilled hands as he examined the injured arm. The absence of speech grew long, causing the youth to acquire a level of uncertainty. He was about to say something to the healer, but changed his mind, not sure if he should break into the thoughts of the rephu’ah as he worked.

Nagad returned his attention to what the healer was doing. The gash, he washed with a mixture of wine and olive oil in which choice herbs had been infused. At first this stung, causing Nagad to flinch, but then the pulsing pain abated and a coolness covered the damaged area. An aromatic balm from Gilead he applied over the injured flesh then wrapped the wound with a clean cloth. Nagad felt relief as the treatment eased the discomfort in his throbbing arm. The healer had a gentle touch that manifested an empathy unfelt previously by his lack of words.

Finished.

Nagad was startled by the sudden intrusion, having grown accustomed to the silence. He slid off the table, cradling his wounded arm.

Thank you.

For the first time, the healer’s eyes met Nagad’s gaze. Smiling and inclining his head, the healer said, You are welcome, soldier.

The rephu’ah returned to his work, clearing the treatment table in preparation for the next wounded soldier who may require tending. Nagad left the healer to his task. He did not wait until first light; his mission was far too urgent.

Before leaving camp, Nagad grabbed a wooden torch with an oil-soaked cloth wrapped around one end. Looking out beyond the Great Sea as the sun hung low over the water, Nagad could not put aside the feeling that the world should have ceased in its workings after the events of this day. So many lost…Lighting his torch at the fire nearest him, Nagad turned his countenance east and began his journey to Shiloh.

He pushed forward, jogging at a steady pace, for he did not want to use too much energy at the start. It was a fifteen mile trek through the peaks and dales that made the hill country of Ephraim. The valleys lay fertile, studded with lush orchards and marshy plains.

Contrasting these plenteous depressions, the peaks appeared bald, only sparsely covered with straggled shrubbery. There resided a large hollow in the land near the Vale of Shechem that divided the mountain range in two. Mt. Gerizim lay to the south of Shechem and Mt. Ebal to the north, each commencing into a ridge that ran the distance of the Great Sea in either direction. The main thoroughfare through the mountains stretched within this vale, but it lay many miles to the north.

Considering for a moment, Nagad decided to forgo the path for fear it would take too long. Instead, he meant to follow the narrow passage over the mountains in a more direct route east to Shiloh. Though this may prove a more difficult excursion, it would be the swiftest course.

With great difficulty Nagad maintained his pace as darkness overcame the faint light of the setting sun. An eerie apprehension ran over him, a sense of being alone in a world much larger than he. It was not wise to travel unattended at night for bandits often ambushed travelers upon the road. Nagad unconsciously quickened his pace.

Weariness threatened to overtake him as the long night wore on. The climb did prove difficult, even treacherous, in the dark of the nocturnal realm. Sounds of unseen animals filled his ears leaving him with a shudder that ran down his spine. The early spring night was cold despite his exertion. His armor felt heavy upon his body as stiffness settled into his muscles. Blisters had formed where his sandals rubbed across his feet.

Nagad continued to press on for need drove him. I must reach Shiloh in time. I will not disappoint Tiphcar, or my people.

As the pale light of dawn alighted upon the hills before him, Nagad slowed to a brisk walk. He had traveled through the night, not stopping to rest even for a brief moment. Drawing out his water jar, Nagad gulped the clear liquid, which trickled down his neck in frigid rivulets. The fresh breath of morning blew upon his face, the chill refreshing, yet inducing him to shiver. A layer of dew lay upon the ground, even his clothes hung damp. Nagad’s thoughts were troubled as he quickened his pace once more. With every step, he knew Israel’s need grew more dire.

As Nagad crested yet another hill, he entered into the Vale of Shiloh. Within this valley it was, that in an age long past, the men of Benjamin had lain in wait, hiding in the vineyard for the daughters of Shiloh. The Benjaminites had been decimated by civil war with the other tribes of Israel; there no longer remained enough women to ensure the survival of this disenfranchised tribe. As the maidens came out to dance in the autumn festival, the Benjaminites sprang upon them and stole away the daughters of Shiloh to be their wives.

Upon a rise in the valley floor, a fortress domain rose through the morning mist like a celestial city upon the clouds. The metropolis lay lush and tranquil, hemmed in on all sides by hills, save the southwest, which was the only entry point into, or out of, the valley. A spring, Ein Seilun, ran adjacent to the city, providing water for the inhabitants and irrigation for the surrounding fields.

The shadow of the tower gate, strong and silent, loomed on the horizon. The city, a mighty bastion of old, the fortifications of