Continue your journey with

book two of the Lambswool Chronicles

Lunacy

PROLOGUE

Jesse

As each son passed before Samuel within the tent at the high place, the look on the prophet’s face transitioned
from expectancy to confusion. He peered in Jesse’s direction. “Surely, you have more sons.”

Jesse stood silent, planting his gaze on the ground.

“Do you have any other males in your household?”

“There is one more boy of my household.” The man’s cheeks flamed as the familiar pulse of pain shot through his skull. He
pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping to quench the stabbing sensation. Still, it persisted. “There is Nitzevet’s youngest son.
David. He’s tending the sheep.”

Samuel’s eyes bore into the patriarch as he rose to his full height. “Send for him. We will not sit down until he arrives.”

Jesse nodded toward his son, Elihu.

His eldest, Eliab, stepped in front of his brother. “I’ll get him, Abba. I believe I know just where he has led the sheep today.”

“No. You’ll stay here. Elihu will go. He’ll make all haste in retrieving that boy.”

With every lapsing moment, Jesse grew more restless. He paced a small plot of ground, gazing frequently toward the tent’s opening. The room hummed with the whispers and low chuckles of the others present—Bethlehem’s elders and the leaders within the region, along with his own sons. The old prophet showed obvious signs of fatigue as he propped himself against one of the tent’s supports. His eyelids drooped, and the wrinkles in his face appeared more pronounced than ever in the lamplight. He accepted a proffered cup of water but refused any other comfort from well-meaning guests who ventured near.

Since Jesse wasn’t a young man himself, he could feel his own weariness setting in. What had become of Elihu? He could
always be trusted to deliver his father’s messages with great expediency. What was detaining him today, and with Samuel
waiting, no less? None of them would know the reason for the prophet’s visit until he and David arrived.

Eliab came up beside his father, drawing him away from the others. “How long shall we wait?” The eldest son’s face wore a
look of impatience. “You know that, as the eldest son, I should’ve been the one tasked with finding that mamzer and bringing him
before the prophet.”

Jesse rounded on him, speaking in hushed yet urgent tones. “You know that Elihu is the one to run my errands. You disrespect
me with your chastisement. I won’t stand for it.”

Eliab’s face and neck went crimson. Was it frustration? Embarrassment? Anger? Jesse couldn’t tell.

As quickly as the color had risen, though, Eliab’s features softened. He cleared his throat. “Pardon me, Abba. I didn’t mean any disrespect. I meant to reason with you. Please. Give your blessing. Allow me to fetch Elihu and David. My brother should’ve met up with Nitzevet’s son hours ago. David would’ve been here by now if all were well. What if Elihu fell into trouble? Let me go and find them both. I’ll run home and get my quiver and bow in case they’re needed.”

No! Could trouble have befallen Elihu?

Eliab put his hand on his father’s arm. “I know of a hidden path that will get me there in less than half the amount of time.
If you would just . . .”

Moments after Eliab had departed, David stood at the tent opening.

CHAPTER 1

Eliab

Eliab ascended the cliff overlooking the valley. Featureless wilderness stretched before him, barren at first glance of
any living thing. The rainy season had long since passed, and the valley showed the bleached effects of the arid climate. The
only artifacts breaking up the vast, bleak canvas were periodic tufts of green foliage growing in the shade of nearby rocks.

The man willed his breathing to slow, wiping the sweat from his palms onto the coarse wool covering his thighs. His hunting
clothes pricked at his skin in the heat. He adjusted the weight of the quiver on his back and gripped his bow tighter. Earlier
that day he had adorned himself in his finest garb before he had been paraded before the prophet Samuel. He had anticipated a
great feast at the high place in celebration of the prophet’s visit, although he still had no idea why the old man had come to
Bethlehem in the first place. Now, as the sun waned in the west . . . now he anticipated other things.

The hunter quickly spotted his prey—the boy with a small cluster of sheep. His scarf sat upon his head, its fringes dancing
in the breeze, while the young man himself perched upon a rock. He held his staff firmly, on the ready to jump to his feet at any
moment. A lyre lay haphazardly at his feet. No other witnesses appeared from any direction. Eliab couldn’t have planned this better if he had tried.

Smiling to himself, the eldest son of Jesse concocted his scheme. He would say that he had seen a bear . . . that he had
attempted to kill the beast to save the sheep but that the arrow had accidentally pierced the shepherd instead. Wait . . . would it be better if he were to simply say that he had come upon the body? Yes. Yes, that would be preferable. That way he would avoid any suspicion or even accusation. He would camouflage his bow and quiver within a patch of brush he had passed a moment ago. He would retrieve them later—perhaps days later—after he felt safe to do so without arousing suspicion. Either way, the family would all be rid of David. Once and for all. They would all be the better for it.

The muscles in Eliab’s upper torso flexed as he pulled back the string of his bow. The arrow cut through the air as though guided
by YHWH. It struck the target exactly as Eliab had planned, embedding itself deeply into his prey’s back near the spine.
The target sat stock-still for several agonizing moments before swaying with the breeze. The quarry looked neither to the
right nor to the left, as if the arrow had paralyzed him. He then fell facedown onto the valley floor in a plume of dust, without
uttering a sound. No cry. No groan. No struggle. All the while the sheep continued their grazing.

Eliab had all he could do to keep from whooping and hollering aloud. He raised his fist and shook it. A smile spread across his face, making his skin feel tight as it stretched across his cheekbones. His heart drummed into his ears, and every hair on his arms and neck stood on end. He breathed in deeply through his nose and expelled it out his mouth, his cheeks puffing with
the force. Once. Twice. Three times.