Naaman Leper Warrior

Naaman: Leper Warrior

Neil Stott

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Copyright 2019 Neil Stott

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Prologue

The Prophet

The sun beat unmercifully on Naomi's neck as they walked. She was just twelve and though used to long walks with her parents and hard work in the house and the field, this particular journey was wearing upon her. She looked up from the dusty track, wondering where the great prophet lived. She had felt so confident when, as a family, they had prayed together before they left their home in Samaria.

You will serve the prophet. It seemed so clear, so right when her father and mother had announced it ... was that only two days ago? A stone caught her foot and she stumbled and would have fallen except for her father's strong arm that reached out to steady her, Cabal said,

Careful, daughter. The track is rough here. She nodded, she knew she had been daydreaming and not watching her way. The day's journey from Samaria had been uneventful, firstly traveling with a caravan heading south to Judah. In the midst of the merchants and their guards, they felt confident of their safety. They left the caravan at the junction of the great pass, a few had walked with them but as they trudged on a half a day more, they were alone. Naomi looked around her and thought for the first time of bandits. The rolling hills were empty except for grazing cattle and planted crops and small farmhouses. A land at peace. She looked up and saw that her father had stopped at the crest of a small hill and was pointing,

Here. We are here. Her heart leaped, all doubt was gone, they had reached the prophet. She ran forward to join her father and mother and they walked down the hill to stand outside the prophet's hut. It was a simple affair, on the high side of a running stream surrounded by fields of wheat almost ready for harvest. Respectfully they stood for a while outside the hut hoping for the prophet to become aware of their presence. When it was obvious nothing was going to happen, Cabal stepped forward and called out,

My Lord. Your servants Cabal and Miriam come with a message from our Lord and our God and a gift. The words were barely out of his mouth when the door opened and a short, thin man with heavy beard and long hair emerged. He walked up to Cabal and stood in front of him.

What gives you the right to speak on behalf of our Lord and God? he demanded. His eyes locked on Cabal as if searching his innermost thoughts. Cabal looked down at his feet,

My Lord. We have faithfully served the Lord all of our lives. We have refused to bow down to the Baals. We have even journeyed to Jerusalem to make our sacrifices at the temple. He paused and turned to Naomi and waved her forward, My Lord. This one. All three of us have had a dream. Naomi is to serve a great man of God. In obedience to the will of God, we bring her so that she might serve you. Elisha smiled and then laughed.

A servant girl. What need do I have of a servant girl? he laughed again, and Naomi blushed. Ashamed, crushed and rejected by the man of God. Tears began to roll down her face. Elisha seemed to be oblivious and waved to the fields around them. I have no need of a servant girl. I work in the fields, I till the soil, I carry the water. For other tasks of I have Gehazi. and then yelled out. Gehazi. Where are you you lazy goat. Are you asleep again? The door opened and a young man emerged, fine looking, strong and healthy who ran up to his master,

Yes, Master? Elisha waved to the family,

Bring some water. Some food. We shall eat together and hear more of this story of this girl servant. and laughed some more before he sat down beneath the large tree next to his house and motioned to them to sit while they told their story and ate.

God fearing and determined not to follow the ways of the Baals, Cabal and Miriam had nothing to give as an offering to God. As Naomi came of age they decided that she could serve the prophet. For Naomi it was a fearful as well as wonderful opportunity. All of Israel knew of the exploits of the prophet and his great miracles. To think that she, a mere girl could serve the great man of God was almost overwhelming. It hadn't been a decision the parents had taken lightly. It was the dreams, three nights in row that had determined that it was the right course. First the father dreamt of the pillar of fire that saved Israel of the vengeful armies of Egypt and he was struck with the persistent thought, all had forgotten the Lord except a few. Like he and his wife, there were few true believers left in the Northern Kingdom. Then his wife dreamed of his daughter, serving in a great man's house, a man of God. Finally, Naomi herself had a dream as if watching herself from far away, she saw her speaking words Go to the prophet Elisha. When she had awoken and shared her dream with her mother, both parents shared their own dreams, dreams they had not spoken of before. After each had spoken, Cabal had announced,

It is clear. God is speaking to us. We must take our daughter to the prophet so that she may serve him.

So my Lord. We are here, in obedience to God. As Cabal finished speaking, he looked at the prophet. The mocking smile had gone, He was thoughtful as he looked at both parents and again at Naomi. They finished eating and drinking in silence and when they had finished Elisha called the girl over. She sat before him, head bowed. He touched her gently under the chin and lifted her head up to look into her eyes. It was then that the Word of the Lord came to him.

Child. Indeed, you are to serve a great man of God, but it is not I but one from the north. You will face loss, pain and tribulation but have no fear, for the Lord will be with you. Elisha broke from his stare and smiled and patted her hand. Yes, you will serve a great man. He turned to the parents who were holding each other in awe of the prophet's words. Cabal timidly asked,

When my Lord. How will we know? Elisha looked at the man and the woman. He saw their future, two paths stretched before them. a choice, a difficult choice. Such are the ways of God he thought to himself. Aloud he said,

Ahead there are two paths. May the Lord your God give you wisdom on what path you will choose. Abruptly Elisha stood and they all rose with him. He reached out and touched them on their heads,

God's peace upon you. and turned and walked back into his hut, not looking back. Cabal began to gather their belongings.

What does it mean? Naomi asked. His father stopped,

Child. Our future is in God's hands now. We trust in Him. Naomi nodded, gathered her own things as they began the walk back to the caravan trail all the time wondering,

Who is this man I am to serve?

Part 1 - Love and War

Chapter 1

Siege of Samaria - 857 BC

Naaman stood tall in the saddle as he watched his father's troop march past. The call from the King had come two nights before and his father had sent messages throughout the province. They were heading off to war against their hated enemy, the Israelites. For Naaman, it would be his first campaign, though he had fought many battles against raiders, thieves and assassins, this would be the first time that he could join his father in a campaign in which the entire nation would go to war. As he stood beside the Damascus Road, his thoughts drifted away from the coming fight to the previous evening. His hand lifted to his neck, around which he carried the scarf of the finest lady in the land. He lifted the edge up to his nose and drew in the sweet aroma of her scent. Shutting his eyes he allowed his thoughts to take him back and feel again the touch of her hand, her lips on his. The thoughts of that last precious meeting were painfully thrust away as a sharp object jabbed him in the back.

He roared with pain at the sharp prick and turned, ready to deliver an appropriate response either with word or sword to his protagonist. He stopped suddenly when he saw it was his father, Gorak, face beaming with delight at his small joke. In a mild rebuke he said,

So, Naaman. If you are going to war like that, how soon would it be before an Israelite sword is thrust into your unsuspecting back, eh? Naaman's face darkened with shame. Still thinking of that girl? his father probed. Naaman said nothing. Their meetings had always been in secret, not even his father should know. He thrust the scarf out of sight and instead waved his arm towards the marching soldiers.

They look like fine men. He remarked casually. His father was not to be drawn.

So, tell me lad. Who is this woman that has so taken your heart? This time he could not hide the red blush that rose from his neck to his face. His father just laughed, a deep bellow that brought smiles to the faces of the nearest soldiers. They thought well of Gorak and willingly offered their swords and their very lives in service to him and his house. They knew nothing of the growing conflict between Aram and Israel and cared little for the King and his thirst for glory. They well knew that the King was a dangerous and bloodthirsty man who had more than once ordered men to their death for the sport of it. But Naaman's father was of different stock. He worked beside them, defended them when raiders came, provided food when their crops failed, gave liberal gifts at times of celebration and feasting. Of all the provincial kings, Gorak held the most favour with the people. A second horseman drew near to them, Gorak's commander and trusted friend, Remak.

So young Naaman. He began with a none too subtle wink at his father. Tell an old soldier about your adventures last night. Naaman looked fiercely at him and wondered to himself,

Who in this damn province doesn't know! He chose his words carefully and chose to admit only a little,

A woman of rare quality. It would shame her to speak of this as if she were a common whore. Remak's face brightened even more as he continued to probe.

A woman of quality. Hmm? he paused with a theatrical flourish. Who could possibly fit that description from the provinces? He turned to Gorak and went on, My Lord. Do you know of any available women of rare quality within the province? Gorak stroked his thick long beard as if in thought.

None that I know of. And I know all the quality women in the province.

Hmm. Remak finished the sentence, So she must be from another province, perhaps Damascus itself. Perhaps a woman of noble birth? A sudden shudder of fear went up Naaman's spine,

Damn them. He thought bitterly to himself, They know! But be damned if he would confess to them. He eased back in his saddle in a pose of feigned indifference. The two older men were silent for a time and Naaman refused to turn to look at them. Finally, his father spoke, very softly and very kindly,

My son. Have no fear. Your secret is safe. You must remember that nothing goes unnoticed in the province without me finding out. Naaman cursed himself for thinking he could get away with his secret meetings here. He should have gone to Damascus, at least have the opportunity to be lost in the crowd.

So it is Jophiar then, the daughter of the King. His father revealed without recrimination. This one has taken your heart. This time Naaman looked at his father, admitting the truth.

Yes, Father. We very much love each other.

Love. Snorted Remak. As long as she can bear you many sons, that should be enough! Naaman flashed him an angry look and Remak laughed at his discomfit. He well knew what love was, but the young boy had much to learn in life.

Does the King know? Naaman asked uncertainly, turning his attention back to his father. Gorak shook his head,

As far as I know, he does not. Or if he does, he shows no care for what she does. Naaman let out his breath, not realizing he had been holding it in.

You play a dangerous game, boy. Remak observed. This time Naaman could only agree, nodding slowly. He well knew the risks both he and Jophiar were taking. King Ben-Hadad was not known for his kindness nor his compassion. To let her marry him would cost Naaman's father a great deal for a dowry. Naaman was not sure he had the right to ask his father to give up so much. It was as if his father was reading his mind and asked that very question,

So you will marry this girl? It was not even a question but a statement of fact. Naaman sat erect in his saddle and looked steadily at his father,

Father, with your permission, I would. His father looked back into the eyes of his son. His breast swelled with pride as he looked at how he had grown into a man and now was making a man's choice.

My son, I would be honored to welcome her into my house. And urged his horse closer in order to place his arm on his son's shoulder smiling broadly as Remak chuckled.

But first, my son, there is a war to fight and a war to win. You must not let your thoughts of this girl draw you away from the task before us. If you don't she will never bear your name! Naaman nodded, as always, his father was right. Together, the three reigned their horses forward and trotted to the front of the column of soldiers.

First Battle

Remak reined his horse up, her flanks covered with foam, sweat and blood. He had become separated in the fighting from Gorak and Naaman and now found himself in the midst of a running fight between random groups of Aramaean and Israelites who were killing anyone who came near in a frenzy of irrational bloodletting. The two armies had clashed on the plains on the approaches to Samaria, the smaller Israelite force stood firm as the Aramaean foot soldiers battled fiercely with them. It was not until the King ordered the horsemen and the chariots forward that the Israelites broke and ran. It was in the chaos that followed that they had become separated. Sworn to protect his master and his son, Remak was not going to let anyone stand in his way until he found them again.

Having fought off one more attack, he urged his horse forward again but only traveled a few yards when another band of Israelites rounded a grove of trees to confront him. There was no time to think, no time to flee the battle rage consumed him as he urged his horse forward and lifted his battle-axe as the Israelites charged toward him. He struck the first a crushing blow to the head which sent him spinning, already dead, to the ground. Two more swung their swords, one striking Remak's shield, the other slashing the sides of the horse. The horse reared back in pain and Remak tumbled backwards to the ground losing his grip on his battle-axe. The Israelites roared with triumph and closed for the kill. Stunned and winded, Remak lay there, certain of his impending death.

He did not hear the sound until he saw the first soldier stagger and then fall, an arrow protruding from his chest. The other paused, fear in his eyes as he sought out this new threat. Again, no sound until another arrow thudded into his throat. Blood streamed onto the dust as he fell thrashing and gurgling out his life's blood. The remaining three soldiers turned and fled, leaving Remak surrounded by bodies. Slowly he rolled over to his side and began to push himself to his knees. As he did and looked up, he saw horses approaching. Pulling himself to his feet, he recognized the broad features of Naaman, a bow and arrow at the ready, with Gorak holding a broad sword, ever vigilantly looking around for new enemies. Satisfied there was no immediate threat, Gorak dismounted and walked over to Remak,

Are you all right, old friend? Remak nodded, annoyed that he, who was supposed to protect his master, had to be rescued instead. Gorak knew his thoughts and said nothing.

Naaman. He called to his son, Find another horse for Remak. There is a war still to fight.

"Yes, father.' He answered at once. All around them were the remnants of war. Chariots, spears, swords and bodies. In the midst of the carnage, horses stood alone and Naaman reigned one in and trotted back to the pair. Remak nodded his thanks, found his battle-axe and mounted. The surge of the battle had carried the fighters far from them. As they turned their horses towards the retreating Israelites, a trumpet sounded a clear note.

It is the recall. This battle is over. Observed Gorak. Remak nodded and they wheeled their horses back towards where the King had his camp.

The Victor

Ben-Hadad, King of Aram stood atop the hill outside Samaria and considered the momentous victory won on the plains, a victory he had won. A victory greater than anything his father had done. He thought of the songs that would be sung about Ben-Hadad the Mighty King, Ben-Hadad the Mighty Warrior. Already, twenty thousand Israelites lay dead in the fields the remnants surrounded in Samaria without hope of relief. His scouts to the south had assured him that the Judean army remained securely in Jerusalem not daring to confront the Aramaeans to rescue their northern cousins. There was no doubt that Rimmon, god of war had smiled on them.

The defeated remnants of the Israelite army manned the walls in anticipation of the Aramaean assault. To both sides, there seemed to be little doubt that the city, surrounded and hopelessly outnumbered, cut off from food and water, would soon fall. He had no desire for a long drawn out siege. Nothing gave him more pleasure than the thought of having the head of King Ahab on the end of his spear. That would require an assault on the city. Yes, he could kill that worm Ahab, but humiliation, to become just a servant of the Great King Ben-Hadad. That thought greatly encouraged him. He rose from his throne, erected on the hill looking down on Samaria,

Bring me the scribe. The scribe appeared, writing bench and parchment ready. Ben-Hadad began to dictate and as he spoke, strutted about, all the more confident.

Yes, all the world would know of the greatness of King Ben-Hadad. No lengthy message, it told much about Ben-Hadad's limited education, brought up as a soldier. He had disdained the education of the teachers in his father's court, instead he concentrated on the craft of war and betrayal. When his father was old and frail, the young Prince had killed all his brothers in a bloody coup that had left him King. The provincial kings which included Gorak, Naaman and Remak listened to the demands that the scribe had recorded.

Your silver and gold belong to me, as well as the best of your wives and children. No one dared to speak. This was the King's moment. He smiled and had it read to them again, so no one could doubt the content. The Commander of the Army Hezeal draw his sword and raised it to the sky,

Hail, Rimmon god of war. Hail King Ben-Hadad. The provincial kings and the princes followed his lead and the hilltop was filled with the roars of the assembled warriors. There were smiles all round. Servants brought wine. They drank several toasts and roared to the heavens again. Finally, Ben-Hadad sealed the message with his signet ring and handed it to one of his messengers with orders to deliver and read it only in the presence of King Ahab of Israel. As they awaited the reply, Ben-Hadad continued to stride about the