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deserting me.”
    “We need someone to take up the challenge.” Abner touched one hand to his pate, smoothing the sparse brown hair.
    “I could go, Father.” Jonathan spoke the words with resignation. If he died in the process, so be it.
    Silence. Then a guttural wail. “No!” Saul jumped to his feet, banging his head on the tent’s ceiling post. “I will not allow my son, heir to my throne, to be butchered by that— that—heathen pig.”
    Jonathan did not care to be butchered by that heathen pig either. But he hid his thoughts. “What makes you think he’d win?” he asked.
    Abner’s left brow hiked up a notch. “Don’t be ridiculous, Jonathan.”
    Saul put a hand to his head and groaned. “I’ve sent for your sister.”
    Jonathan stared at his father. “You’re going to feed my sister to the giant?”
    Saul shook his head. “No, no, of course not! She’s our incentive.”
    Jonathan rubbed the back of his neck. “What are you talking about, Father?”
    Saul fell back in a crumpled heap among the cushions and rocked back and forth. Abner walked over and placed one hand on Jonathan’s shoulder. “Your father is offering tax exemption, riches, and Merab’s hand in marriage to the slayer of Goliath. He’s sent for her. Maybe if the men see her beauty, someone will step forth.”
    Jonathan shook off Abner’s hand. “You cannot bring my sister into a war camp. This is no place for a woman!” He sent a penetrating look to Abner, strode to the tent’s door, and summoned two soldiers. “Go after the men sent to bring my sister and tell them to return without her.”
    “But the king said—”
    “The king has changed his mind.”
    The guards appeared doubtful and tried to peer beyond Jonathan into the tent.
    “Now go.” Jonathan dismissed the men with a wave of his hand before turning back to his father.
    “I had no choice, Jonathan,” Saul whined, still rocking back and forth, hands clasped around his knees.
    “There is always a choice, Father.”
    The king’s lips curved in a pout. “Well, I’m still offering her hand. Something must be done. Don’t you see?”
    Yes, he did see—all too clearly. Disgusted, he turned and stepped into the gathering dusk. He was a coward, along with all of the rest of the men in the camp. And all of the money, riches, or women in the world would not change that fact.

    Stacks of gray clouds shadowed the western foothills of Judah, blocking David’s view of the approaching ridge. A far-off rumble grew with every step, and David urged the donkey into a faster trot up the mountain’s winding path. The trail led through a grove of sycamore trees, and when he rounded a wide bend, the black goat-hair tents of the Israelite camp came into view. One quick glance told him the place was deserted except for a handful of sentries standing guard.
    In the distance, excited shouts and stomping feet preceded a collective battle cry. David’s heart thumped, spurring him forward. He spotted a lone tent off to the right surrounded by leather packs and saddlebags. A middle-aged man stood tying a goatskin sack to the low branch of a tall oak tree. David rushed toward him.
    “Are you the baggage keeper?” he asked, hopping off the donkey.
    “Yes, yes. That would be me, yes.” The man turned to give David a toothless grin. “Come to watch the battle, boy?”
    “Actually, I’ve come to find how the battle goes and to bring word to my father of how my brothers fare.” David handed the donkey’s reins to the man. “Are they up on the ridge?”
    The man nodded. “Won’t be there long, though. Should be comin’ back to camp soon enough, if it goes like it’s been goin’. ”
    David gave the man a quizzical look. “What do you mean?” He fidgeted at the sound of another earthshaking battle cry. If he didn’t hurry, the army would rush forward, and a bloodbath would begin before he had a chance to see his brothers.
    The keeper stroked the donkey’s nose and shrugged.