In the rugged hills of ancient Judah, seventeen-year-old Benaiah lives under a cloud of shame. When raiders attacked his village, he saved his sister but lost his mother and brothers. Now his father has abandoned him, and the village whispers that he's a coward. The mockery of Natan, a powerful warrior, makes each day a fresh humiliation.
When King Saul calls men to war against the Philistines, Benaiah sees his chance to silence the doubters. But his first battle shatters every illusion about glory and courage. Benaiah finds himself caught between two anointed kings, fighting not just for survival, but for the heart of the woman he loves and the honor he seeks to reclaim.
With each trial, Benayah learns that courage is the choice to act despite fear. It's the decision to protect the innocent. It's the decision to trust God when the spear is at your throat and the lion leaps for your face.
The story is based on the real biblical warrior Benaiah, who served King David and became one of his mighty men.
In the rugged hills of ancient Judah, seventeen-year-old Benaiah lives under a cloud of shame. When raiders attacked his village, he saved his sister but lost his mother and brothers. Now his father has abandoned him, and the village whispers that he's a coward. The mockery of Natan, a powerful warrior, makes each day a fresh humiliation.
When King Saul calls men to war against the Philistines, Benaiah sees his chance to silence the doubters. But his first battle shatters every illusion about glory and courage. Benaiah finds himself caught between two anointed kings, fighting not just for survival, but for the heart of the woman he loves and the honor he seeks to reclaim.
With each trial, Benayah learns that courage is the choice to act despite fear. It's the decision to protect the innocent. It's the decision to trust God when the spear is at your throat and the lion leaps for your face.
The story is based on the real biblical warrior Benaiah, who served King David and became one of his mighty men.
A muscular shoulder smacked Benaiah in the face, and he stumbled backward, crashing into something, and fell to the ground.
“Ow!” Aksah, his younger sister, sprawled on her back beside him in the gritty road.
“Take care where you walk.” Natan stood above him, scowling.
Benaiah’s lip stung, and he touched it. Fresh blood stained his finger. Natan must have turned and lunged with his shoulder. Next, he would claim this was another accident. Benaiah scrambled to his feet and helped Aksah to stand. Dirt smudged the side of her brown, ankle-length tunic. “Are you hurt?”
She frowned and shook off his hand. “Just scrapes and bruises. I told you we should have waited for Miriam.” She picked up her brown pottery water jar and examined it for cracks.
“You should be more careful, Natan.” Benaiah stepped up to the taller man.
A hush fell over the crowded gateway formed by the stone walls of two-story houses. Women in ankle-length tunics of blue, brown, or tan, turned toward him, balancing jars of water atop their headscarves. Bearded men in tan and brown knee-length tunics, belted at the waist, watched. Even the merchant, setting pottery bowls, cups, and platters on a rug, paused.
“You bumped into me, and I shrugged you off.” Natan planted fists on his hips, tensing thick arms sprouting from his sleeveless tunic, lip curled in his full, dark beard.
Benaiah’s throat tightened. “Y-you … you could have hurt my sister.”
“You knocked her down. Since she’s no bigger than a fly, you should watch where you’re going.” Natan crossed his arms.
Benaiah licked his lips, tasting salty blood. He should have noticed Natan at the edge of the men clustered where the village chieftain usually sat. Natan must have seen him coming.
“You said we needed to hurry. Let’s go.” Aksah glared at him and marched toward the gate, hugging the empty jar to her chest.
“Do you have more to say?” Natan leaned down, his face a rock, his voice deep and quiet. “Go to the well, little shafan, before someone is hurt.” He turned to the group of men.
Shafan. The word irritated him like an infected splinter. He was not a short, fat, rock badger scurrying to hide from an eagle. He was seventeen, almost a man, not an unclean animal. He spun and strode through the gate. A gust of wind swept the scent of smoke and sheep past his nose.
Treeless, rocky hills stretched away from the village. He turned and hurried down the steep hill toward the well and drew even with Aksah.
“Did anything more happen with Natan?” she asked.
“No. Just words.” Maybe he should have done something more, but what? Natan had made it look like an accident, as usual. If he had struck Natan, most would see him as the offender, not Natan. A heaviness settled in Benaiah’s chest. Natan was bigger and five years older. Ever since the Amalekite raid, Natan had found ways to torment him. Now Aksah had suffered at his hand.
Aksah shot a glance at him. “You know this wouldn't have happened if we had just stopped and waited at Miriam's door like I wanted. You've waited every other morning.”
“You know I must help Hamul plow today. We finally have our turn with the oxen. I can’t be late.”
“You could have broken the water jar. We don’t have another, and until Dinah finishes more cloth, we can’t barter for one.”
“It wasn't my fault. Natan turned and bumped into me, knocking me into you.”
“That’s what happened? I should have known.”
“He is crafty.”
“You must find some way to stop him.”
He blew out a big breath. “I know. He has gotten worse of late.”
Aksah stepped up to the shin-high stones circling the well. She leaned against the wind, small and thin for a twelve-year-old girl. A gust waved strands of her long, dark hair. “Tomorrow, will you wait for Miriam?”
“No promises. We will need to finish plowing tomorrow.”
She shook her head, bent, and lowered a leather sack attached to a rope into the well. “I still don’t know why you had to hurry me out here this morning. We didn’t have to wait. Everyone else has finished.”
He grunted. She would talk whether he replied or not.
“I like coming to the well with Miriam because she talks to me. You’re often no better than a pile of rocks.”
Footsteps crunched behind him, and Aksah straightened. “Miriam, where were you this morning?”
“I slept late today.” Miriam passed him, a thick strand of glossy, black hair fluttered near her pretty face. A white head scarf trimmed with a line of blue covered the rest of her hair. She had recently started wearing a headscarf, the sign of a woman. Miriam set her jar on the ground, smoothed her long blue tunic, and smiled at him. “A pleasant morning, Benaiah. Would you agree?” Her dark eyes danced with life.
“Hmm.” He jerked a nod and gulped.
She turned back to Aksah, and they chatted about the latest village gossip. Miriam gestured and smiled, her hands never still as she talked. Though Miriam was older than Aksah, they had always been inseparable. He had played with both of them as a child, running through the village.
But Miriam was no longer a child. The breeze pressed her long-sleeved garment to the curves of her body. At fourteen, she would become someone’s wife within a year, at most two.
Miriam married? It didn’t seem possible, but he had heard rumors that Uri had already entertained offers for her. She would probably marry a man from another village and move away. Aksah would miss her. The village would be dull without her.
Benaiah shook his head. Two years would pass before he would marry, maybe more, if he couldn’t muster a bride price. Soon, much would change.
“Benaiah knocked me down in the gateway this morning.” Aksah exaggerated a pout.
“Were you hurt?” Miriam asked.
“A scraped elbow.” Aksah turned her arm to show a bloody elbow poking through a hole in her sleeve.
“Aksah should tell all of the story,” he said. “Natan bumped into me so hard I tripped over her.”
“I’m sure it was an accident.” Miriam smiled.
“I doubt that,” Benaiah said. “Who lunges into another so hard he tumbles? He split my lip.”
Miriam leaned close and peered at his chin. Benaiah stiffened, and his heart thumped. She straightened and grinned. “I see a little blood there. I thought your beard had grown a little darker.”
Aksah giggled, and Miriam laughed. Miriam and Aksah often found some way to tease him, which was probably why Aksah wanted to draw water with her.
“Your beard is not very long yet,” Miriam said, “but I like the brown color.”
Heat surged across his cheeks. He shuffled his feet, turning away from her. Miriam distracted him. He needed to focus on what to do about Natan.
A thin plume of dust lifted over the road to Arad where it crested a hill. He shielded his eyes against the morning sun. Probably a caravan heading to Beersheba.
Water sloshed into the jar at his feet, then splashed over his foot. Aksah giggled through a wide smile. “I beg your forgiveness. The beautiful morning distracted me.”
Miram laughed and covered her mouth.
“Distracted? You intended to douse my foot,” he said.
“I’m a good sister.” Aksah grinned. “I washed your feet.”
She always sought attention. He stepped back, and his sandal squished. “You know not to waste water.”
“Yes, I do.” She smirked.
He shook his head and stifled a smile. How could he be angry with her? She was as cheerful as a songbird—at least on most days.
Aksah finished filling her jar and placed the sack on the edge of the well. She turned to Miriam, and they launched into a discussion about how much one of the village babies had grown.
Benaiah shifted back and forth on his feet. How could they spend so much time talking about a simple thing? Hamul would be waiting at the pen for him before they finished, maybe even now. Miriam asked Aksah about another child who had twisted his ankle. He tapped Aksah’s shoulder. “We need to finish and return to the village. I have work to do.”
Miriam cocked her head to the side, placed a hand on her hip, and gazed at him with her large, dark eyes. “I need someone to fill my jar.”
His heart fluttered like a startled dove. She wanted his help? She must be teasing, but he could fill her jar faster than she could. He dropped the leather bag into the well and hoisted it with quick motions, emptying the water into her jar. He repeated the steps until water spilled over the jar's lip.
“Thank you, Benaiah.” A wide smile dimpled Miriam’s cheek, and his heart warmed.
“You are welcome.” He lifted Miriam’s jar and held it while she placed a circle of braided cloth on the top of her headscarf. She stooped under the jar and rose, settling it on the crown.
“You are most kind.” Miriam started up the hill to the village.
“Yes … most kind of you to help Miriam before your own sister.” Aksah’s eyes sparkled the same way they did when she dangled a toy before the neighbor’s baby.
Warmth flushed his face, and he rolled his eyes. “Come, we should hurry.”
He hoisted Aksah’s jar. She was strong enough to carry it on her head, but her thin arms struggled to lift a full jar into place. He stowed the rope and slid the cover over the well.
They climbed the hill and approached the gate. Hamul led a brown ox out through the gate and glanced at Benaiah, his mouth a firm line in his dark brown beard. He turned away, leading the ox around the village wall.
“I’m coming,” Benaiah called. He turned and stopped short as Natan led a second ox out of the gate. The animal Benaiah was supposed to lead.
Natan smiled at Miriam, who giggled as she and Aksah passed. They entered the gate with their water, and Natan led the ox after Hamul.
“Uh … wait.” Benaiah trotted up beside Natan. “I can take the ox. Hamul and I are plowing our field today.”
Natan stopped, dropped the lead rope, and faced him, leveling a cold stare. “If you weren't traipsing to the well to do women's work, I wouldn't have to help your cousin. How could Jehoiada have begotten a son like you? The whole village knows why your abba left you here when he moved to Shiloh. You’re a coward, and he was ashamed of you.”
Natan shoved him, and he sprawled on the ground as the ox shied and trotted away. Benaiah climbed to his feet, the broken skin on his legs and hands stinging. Natan stalked toward the gate as heat flushed Benaiah’s face. He must find a way to prove he wasn’t a coward.
Birth of a Warrior by Elmer Fuller is exactly what it sets out to be: a book of war, strife, and redemption of the innermost character. As far as biblical fiction goes, this book is not only biblically and historically accurate, but the reader can truly get a feel of the personality of each character. From internal personal struggles, the external differences between enemies, and the overall story that Fuller is weaving together, it is a small section of scripture brought to life through fictional liberties and biblical themes.
From the jump, Birth of a Warrior throws the reader into the story, engrossing its audience into the B.C. world. The reader can immediately understand the issues at hand and how they will play a bigger part throughout the duration of the story. Benaiah is a character most can relate to and be able to see themselves in, whether it is the desire to protect, restore, or fight for what's right.
The real story of Benaiah can be found in scripture, in the books 2 Samuel, 1 Kings, and 1 Chronicles. Reading these before diving into this novel will prove to be informational as well as helpful, being able to put a face to the name and accomplishments to his fictionalized upbringing and story. Knowing that this book is based on a real man can also make reading scripture more realistic and tangible, rather than just a briefly mentioned man here and there.
It certainly cannot be easy to create a backstory as immense and detailed as this one, but Fuller does so expertly. With easy-to-read prose, a strong authors voice, and a story line that captivates the reader at every turn, this book is sure to be a Christian best-seller one day.
Although dense, this story can inspire many. This book goes through the ups and downs of life, making difficult decisions and finding oneself in a position that they might not have asked for. Benaiah is a prime example of standing for what you believe in, finding courage in God, and realizing that who you are and what you are meant to do is bigger than just yourself. Readers everywhere will be delightfully inspired with this read, and can find quiet power even in the darkest of moments. Furthermore, this book lets it be known that a warrior can be found in each of us, not by sheer might but by the Spirit of God.
An excellent book through and through.