Mephibosheth, Chapter 1

By David Ettinger

Note: Several years ago, I wrote full-length novel (350 pages,unpublished) based on the account of Mephibosheth in 2 Samuel 4:4 (please read that verse before reading this chapter). This historical novel covers the fictional 34-year history between Mephibosheth – son of Jonathan – and the nurse who dropped him, turning him into a cripple. The novel is 80 chapters, which I don’t intend to post; I just wanted to toss this opening chapter out there. It’s how everything begins: A fictional look at the crippling of Mephibosheth.

Mephibosheth pounced on unsuspecting Hannah with a force that almost knocked her down, but she was oblivious. The child wrapped his arms tightly around her neck and his legs around her waist, clinging to her like a drenched shawl in a torrential downpour.

“Run, horsey, run,” the boy commanded. “Ride on so that I may slay the Philistines.”

But Hannah was motionless; her eyes set on a distant sight just north.

“Run, horsey, now!” Mephibosheth again ordered, this time punctuating his directive with a distinct kick to Hannah’s unprotected ribcage.

She winced at the impact, but shrugged it off, her eyes continuing to gaze at the sight that so captivated her.

Mephibosheth kicked again and again, but Hannah did not move. She continued to hold her arms behind her, grasping the child that she had all but forgotten was upon her. Soon, a gaggle of about 10 boys and girls began circling Mephibosheth and Hannah, holding sticks in the air as if they were swords and spears.

“Kill Mephibosheth,” they shouted in gleeful ignorance. “Kill him and drag his body to the city gate where we will hang it in the square for all to see.”

“Did you hear that, Hannah?” Mephibosheth chirped. “These Philistines want to kill me. We cannot just stand here. Ride, horsey, ride!”

Again he drove his unsandaled heels into her ribs, hoping to get her to gallop.

“Please, Mephibosheth,” she finally spoke, her eyes never leaving the distant vision. “You are hurting me. Please, kick me no further.”

“You are no fun, Hannah,” the boy said, kissing her on the cheek as he leaped off of her.

“You Philistines will have to catch me if you want to kill me!”

With that, the 5-year-old dashed off in an easterly direction, further from the huge compound in which the family lived. The other children gave chase, and the older ones caught him with little effort.

“Now it is time for you to die, Mephibosheth,” one of them howled. “Die honorably!”

“Hannah, help me, help me!” the boy feinted fearfully. “Ride in and stomp all over these Philistines. Now, Hannah, now!”

Hannah, however, was oblivious to the commotion, her eyes fixed on that plume of dust that continued to increase in mass as it drew nearer. What was even more startling to the teenager was the second wall of dust that was rising a short distance behind the first one. That one was more menacing and ominous, as its dark countenance surged high in the air, its brown smokiness sullying the brilliant blue sky before which it was framed.

Something was coming.

Hannah’s thoughts were again briefly interrupted by Mephibosheth as he violently lunged once more upon her back, this time causing her to stumble forward, barely managing to hold herself up. She was again surrounded by the pack of Philistine emulators as they continued to call for Mephibosheth’s death, but this time punctuating their demands by yanking at the boy’s legs. Mephibosheth clung to Hannah lest he fall into the horde’s murderous hands. She felt herself being yanked backward, as Mephibosheth, his arms coiled tightly around her neck, unknowingly began choking her. Hannah broke free of her hypnotic gaze and quickly unclenched the boy’s arms.

“You serpents!” she screamed at the suddenly silent mob. “You vicious bunch of snakes. Why are you trying to kill Mephibosheth? Flee from here you worthless dogs! Go!”

“What is the matter, Hannah?” Mephibosheth asked, confusion emanating from his brown, bowl-like eyes. “We are only playing.”

But Hannah had already turned her back on the children, her eyes fastened again on the swelling clouds of dust.

“Come on, everyone, we all know Hannah is crazy,” one of the older boys said. “Let us go somewhere else.”

“She is not crazy, Hakkoz,” Mephibosheth shot back. “You better say you are sorry or …”

“Or what?” Hakkoz challenged.

Mephibosheth never wavered.

“Or I will tell my grandfather on you and he will cut your head off.”

The kids all laughed.

“He will! Mephibosheth insisted more acutely. “You will find out. You will see!”

“Let us go,” the unfazed boy said, “he is just as crazy as Hannah.”

At the boy’s words the rabble was off, looking for more victims their sham Philistine personas could conquer.

Mephibosheth shouted after them.

“I am not crazy!” he insisted though they were now out of hearing range. “And neither is Hannah! You should not have said that! Wait until my grandfather returns!”

His efforts fruitless, he turned back to Hannah, stepped in front of her, and looked up at the pixie girl who was not all too much taller than he was.

“What are you looking at, Hannah?” he asked, staring at her eyes.

She pointed.

“Out there,” she said somewhat hazily, her eyes never leaving the two plumes.

Mephibosheth turned to where she was pointing. He looked, but at first saw nothing. He squinted, focused, and then saw it.

“The dust?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“What about it?”

“I do not know, but it frightens me.”

“Why?

“It does not seem right.”

“But, Hannah …”

Suddenly, the boy saw something emerging from the first dust mass. It was a rider, followed by another. Mephibosheth looked up at Hannah, she had seen it, too. She instinctively pulled Mephibosheth to her and held him tight. He could feel her body trembling, and so he began to tremble as well, though he had no idea why.

The pair watched in terrifying silence as the two horsemen came riding directly toward them. They kicked up so much dust that they could barely keep in front of the menacing plume, despite the thunderous pace at which their horses galloped.

Mephibosheth suddenly felt a twinge of pain in his upper arm. Hannah had been clinging to him so fiercely that she was driving her nails into his unprotected skin.

“Ouch!” he cried out, trying to rip her fingers out of him.

“What?” she said, briefly looking down.

“Oh, so sorry, my love,” she whispered and then released her grip, yet pulling the boy even closer to her.

Mephibosheth raised his two arms and wrapped them around Hannah’s, which were draped over him like a snug blanket. The two watched silently, petrified as the riders drew impossibly near. By now, all had gone quiet; the children had also noticed the riders.

The riders were upon them.

Hannah cringed.

The horsemen were bloody, muddy, and their clothes were tattered.

Mephibosheth clung even tighter to Hannah’s arms.

“Why are you standing here, girl?” one of the riders said as he stopped, the other racing toward the compound. “The Philistines draw near!”

Mephibosheth broke his grip and faced Hannah, his fear vanquished, his brain tingling.

“The Philistines, Hannah, did you hear? The Philistines!”

“What are you talking about?” Hannah breathlessly questioned the horseman, the words gurgling out of her like thick olive oil through a narrow ewer neck. “What Philistines?”

“We have come from Mount Gilboa,” the man spouted. “Israel has been defeated and the king and his son are dead.”

Hannah grabbed the horseman.

“Dead? Saul and Jonathan? But …”

The man roughly cast her off.

“No time for questions, foolish girl. Look there …”

He pointed to the menacing plume of dust that now seemingly had risen to the heavens.

“That is the Philistine army coming this way. Get these children inside the house now!”

With that he was off, leaving Hannah alone. Her heart raced. She felt faint. Her legs wobbled and she could barely stand. But there was no time for weakness.

“Mephibosheth, quick, we must go,” she said while reaching out her hand, her eyes on the dust mass.

She then noticed that her hand was grasping nothing but air. She looked down. Mephibosheth was not there. She searched in terror, but could not find him. She looked back to the compound hoping he was already on his way home. By now, word had reached the household that something terrible had happened and that doom awaited them. Adults were scurrying from the home like sheep fleeing a ravenous wolf. They screamed frantically for the children and herded them all inside.

Hannah was now alone.

“Mephibosheth!” she screamed.

She turned back to the north, where the plume of dust had soared and grew like a thunderstorm ready to unleash its watery contents. And there, just before the plume, she saw a small dot. Mephibosheth was running toward the dust plume, to meet it head-on.

“Mephibosheth!” Hannah shrieked in horror and immediately began running to the boy.

She ran as fast as she could go, but was not making any ground. She ran faster and faster until her lungs burned, but could not gain on the boy. Suddenly, a brilliant ray of light appeared from within the plume. And then another. And another. And yet another. Soon, rays of light were everywhere. Hannah stopped and focused. They were not rays of light at all, but reflections of the sun radiating off of the helmets and body armor of the Philistine soldiers who were now barely coming into view.

Mephibosheth had seen it, too, and stopped. Hannah, now more frantic than ever, raced to the boy with all her might and scooped him up, but he fought with her.

“I want to see the Philistines!” he insisted. “Let go of me, Hannah!”

She did not argue, instead she yanked him by the hand and began running in the direction of the house.

“Let go of me, Hannah!”

Mephibosheth desperately tried to free himself of the annoyance, but Hannah would not let go. He kept fighting and fighting as Hannah desperately pulled him to the house. Finally, feeling that she may lose her grip on the insistent child, she scooped him up in her arms and tried carrying him. Enraged, the boy began punching her.

“Let of me, Hannah! Let go of me!”

But she would not as she could hear the remote sound of galloping behind her. The Philistines were getting closer, though they were still at a distance. She grasped Mephibosheth with all her might as the boy exerted equal effort in trying to free himself from her.

The Philistines were coming, and the distance to the house was further than Hannah could ever have imagined. Mephibosheth was fighting her every step of the way, which made Hannah run even faster. But the boy was getting heavier and heavier. And Hannah was getting wearier and wearier. Her arms felt as if flames were shooting through them. She had never felt such pain in her life. And little Mephibosheth – her love, her life – was screaming ever more deliriously and …

It was all too much for the small woman. The barbarians were almost upon her, but her arms had nothing left. There was nothing she could do …

Suddenly, Mephibosheth had somehow managed to extricate himself from her weakening hold and leaped out of her arms. However, instead of landing square, he came crashing down in the most awkward of positions, his feet angling to the ground rather than flat. Instead of landing on his feet, his full weight shifted to his two ankles as they smashed against the ground.

There was a sound. A sickening sound. The sound of breaking bone. And there was a sight. A terrible sight. It was the sight of bone breaking through the skin of one ankle. The other ankle was gnarled and twisted in a mangled mesh of flesh, cartilage and ligament. Hannah looked down at the boy. He bled.

“Mephibosheth!” she screamed in furious horror, her mind a whir of terror and hysteria.

He is dead! she heard herself say though her lips were not moving. I have killed him! Mephibosheth is dead!

Mephibosheth lay deathly still. Hannah felt feverish, her soul permeated with dread. Then, suddenly, the Philistines were no longer there. Everything had gone black.

Tagged: Ancient Israel, biblical fiction, Fiction Based on the Historical Account, Mephibosheth, The Crippling of Mephibosheth

Posted in: Ancient Israel, Bible personalities, Feature Stories, Men of the Bible, Old Testament