THE following week the Third Prince of David galloped through the long dusty ways that led to Hebron.
But the prince didn’t travel those rough rocky paths alone. He went with a crowd of two hundred men. Alongside his fifty-man entourage.
Those two hundred people who escorted the prince were reputable men of the highest sort. Nobles, sages, judges and merchants. Absalom had sent to fetch them all.
But then, Absalom’s two hundred were only an ignorant flock of sheep in this next game of the throne seeker.
Those men – wise and noble as they were, happened to know nothing about the prince’s masterplan.
I seek to go to Hebron in seven days’ time (the boy had written in a sealed invite). I go up to worship and seek pardon before the God of Abraham and Israel.
Therefore, fathers of our people, I request your noble presence to, please, lead me in this humble sacrifice of mine.
Truly, Absalom knew that he wouldn’t have got all of the men on his side if he’d stated his real cause. As a matter of fact, he’d have let his cat out of the bag before anything would have begun.
Again, those folks weren’t simpleminded people that could be won over with a kiss, or bought over with silver and gold. Not at all; they were men with minds of their own and their allegiance might lay with the reigning king.
So, the prince did get the elders to ride with him to Hebron. But those men thought it an honour to lead him to worship.
Then as soon as the flock of people arrived the town at night, and they settled by God’s mountain, that gentle son of David proved himself otherwise.
For in the eyes of the noble souls gathered, he declared himself a son of Balial, a bastard son of David.
Thus, like the deafening shrieks of trumpets that went before the murder of the kingdom’s heir, a loud blast of the royal horns went up right then in a wild flourish.
The blast poured into ears from the mountain top. It raptured and shattered the thick blanket of night. Tore through the breeze, and travelled back in a mad flight to neigbouring towns and villages.
The resonant flourish wasn’t unfamiliar in the ears. At least in those of older folks.
For it was the same sound of brass that had announced David King over Israel. From those very quarters.
It was the trumpet sound that had blared when the kingmakers in Jerusalem came to the small town of Hebron. And anointed the tribal ruler as king over all of God’s people.
It was the same sound the people heard now.
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