Battle of the Kingless – Ch. 7 | KT OLLA

JEPHTHAH was exiled from Gilead; and he left that upsetting homeland as far as to the land of Tob outside Israel.

The rumours of the man’s exile travelled far also. It ran along the flow of Jordan and swum as far as to the den of the Ammonites.

So like the cock crow wake the morning sun, that news had stirred up soldiers of Ammon to spread terror across the whole nation.

And that terror did burn wide and big indeed. For Xarxus came on the cities of Israel like an outbreak of fire at night. And the people perished in hundreds of thousands.

However while homeland burned hot with Xarxus’s terror, Jephthah wasted himself in wanton pleasure in the land of strangers where he fled to, that land called Tob.

The broken fighter never attempted to pick up the splinters of his shattered self. Since that betrayal in Gilead did hack him down beyond recovery.

So now Jephthah lost interest in everything brave or noble. Thus he wasted away with wine and gamble.

As things were, moreover, the land of Tob dwelt with the quietness of a waterside and the peace of a valley spring. So there was no demand or threat on Jephthah’s skill in battle.

Even so, the fighter had sunk too low beneath himself now. He wasn’t even ready to fight to save his life, if ever the need arose. How much less to save a strange nation?

But then if there was anything at all, the ex-champion was eager to erase all he once knew as Gilead… the place he once called home.

Again, if bravery was what Jephthah was made of, then he’d do all he could to be anything but brave…

He’d do everything to be anyone but Jephthah.  

So then, in order to change his valiant past, Jephthah threw himself away now in reckless abandon.

Then with jars of crimson every day, he buried his pasts and pains in wine. He simply wallowed a wasted lot.

Yes, Jephthah told himself that his name wasn’t to be called Valour, or anything that noble. So he renamed himself ‘Garbage.’

For he said: ‘Truly, truly… you were born so, Jephthah!’

So therefore, it didn’t take too long before the man’s new flare began to call fireflies of the same breed.

Soon, a bunch of vagabonds, scavengers and a wasted sort found the man everywhere he indolently lay.

They frolicked round the stranger in scores, like the flies of a rotten carcass. They played and laughed. They chattered and jested.

But Jephthah wouldn’t give them the courtesy of attention. Even though the men had done everything to make him laugh.

Those band of men, the vagabonds of that land. Those men knew wretchedness by name. They knew the agony in penury.

Yet no well-born in the land of Tob knew that the vagabonds had troubles and pain. Everyone with a roof and food thought themselves were the saddest.

But that was what Jephthah thought also. Even when he’d lost the comfort of a shelter and the assurance of wealth.

Yes, Jephthah took those wasted lot to be mere clowns and jesters. So he wouldn’t even look at them but chased them away with sticks and pebbles.

But then again the wanderers knew the pain of misery. That biting sadness that made him react so.

Thus, the wretched men often sought the stranger again before noon or dusk, in other streets where he drank wine and lay.

And when they found their new friend, they told him stories about their land. They made hilarious jokes, too; so much he’d chuckle in spite of himself.

In this way, therefore, Jephthah began responding to his new group little by little. He found them interesting, but he wasn’t curious to know any of them.

So when he called anyone who came so often, he’d only signal and say, ‘Hey, you!’

Despite this, his new friends weren’t offended at all. They imagined what he must have been through to make a nice looking man that cold.

Yet four out of those men were peculiarly consistent. They always came to Jephthah together and they talked more than the rest.

Also, when those four got alms from the street, they made effort to share it with the stranger.

But their new friend wasn’t anyone to take that kind of generosity at all.

So Jephthah would scoff and laugh. And then he’d snob their offer with the most stampeding words.

And, there and then, one of those buddies would reply him.

‘Look Jeph, we your friends are low already. And there’s nothing lower than here, huh?

‘So get it clear, pal. We like you and you can’t push us off with that kind of eyes!’

Then one day, the four vagabonds told Jephthah their names. But neither of those names stuck to the former warrior. He still called them like he’d call strangers.

‘Hey, you!’ he’d call. And the person he called would respond and tell him his name again.

Then Jephthah would reply, ‘Okay.’ And in the next moment he’d have forgotten it again.

Except the fact that everybody could answer to one name.

And that was ‘You!’

Copyright © April 2022 by Kayode & Tola Olla