Livora Gracely

The meeting was almost over.

Ahithophel had given Absalom a plan that did not require much decoration.

Give him twelve thousand men. Let him leave that night while David was tired and his people were still unsettled. Strike quickly, scatter the men around him, kill David, and bring everyone else back.

One man.

One night.

One war brought much closer to its end.

Absalom liked the plan.

So did the elders of Israel.

A map lay open on the table between them. Lamps burned around it, cups had been left wherever their owners happened to put them, and the men in the room had begun wearing the comfortable expressions of people who believed the difficult part of the meeting was finished.

Ahithophel knew that expression.

He had seen it around David.

Now he saw it around David’s son.

His counsel had acquired an extraordinary reputation. When Ahithophel spoke, people listened with the seriousness normally reserved for an answer from God.

Tonight seemed no different.

There were twelve thousand men to summon and very little night to waste.

Someone could probably roll the map.

Then Absalom had another thought.

“Call Hushai too.”

One More Chair

The map stayed open.

Hushai came in and heard what Ahithophel had proposed.

Absalom wanted his opinion.

Hushai gave it.

Not good.

Not this time.

That was an awkward beginning for a plan everyone else had approved.

Hushai reminded the room that David had spent much of his life surviving unpleasant situations involving armed men.

He was an experienced fighter. So were the men around him. They were angry and dangerous, Hushai said, like a bear robbed of her cubs.

And David knew how to disappear.

Perhaps he would not be sleeping among his troops at all. Perhaps he would be hidden somewhere, waiting for the first mistake.

If Absalom’s men suffered an early defeat, somebody would hear about it.

Then somebody else would repeat it.

Soon twelve thousand soldiers could acquire a much larger enemy:

a story that they were losing.

Hushai had another suggestion.

Gather Israel from Dan to Beersheba.

All of it.

An army as numerous as the sand by the sea.

Ahithophel had asked for twelve thousand men.

Hushai apparently felt twelve thousand had enjoyed enough attention for one evening.

Then came another detail.

Absalom himself would lead the army.

Absalom seemed particularly interested in this part.

Hushai continued. If David stood in the open, overwhelm him. If he retreated into a city, bring ropes and pull the place down until nothing remained.

Ahithophel had brought a plan.

Hushai had brought scenery.

The room liked the scenery.

A few minutes earlier, twelve thousand had sounded like a very large number.

It was having a difficult evening.

Absalom looked around the table.

The elders agreed.

Hushai’s plan would be followed.

Ahithophel was still sitting there.

Not This Time

Nobody called Ahithophel foolish.

His plan did not suddenly become a bad plan because the room preferred another one.

It simply became the plan nobody was going to use.

There was no second presentation. No revised map appeared, and Ahithophel did not try to make twelve thousand men sound larger than they had sounded the first time.

The meeting moved on.

So did Hushai.

Messages quietly left Jerusalem. David must not stay where he was. He and his people needed to cross the Jordan before morning.

The warning travelled through several hands before reaching him.

Soon people were moving through the darkness toward the river. Men and women crossed with children, belongings and animals. One bank slowly emptied while the other filled.

Ahithophel had wanted David tired, exposed and reachable.

Darkness had offered him the chance.

But darkness does not last very long.

By morning, David and his people were across the Jordan.

Tonight had been the strongest word in Ahithophel’s plan.

Morning removed it.

The Donkey

When Ahithophel saw that his advice had not been followed, he did not return to the meeting with a better speech.

He saddled his donkey.

After an evening involving a king, a fugitive king, military strategy, twelve thousand soldiers and nearly all Israel, the next thing in the story was an animal waiting for the road.

Ahithophel climbed on.

Jerusalem receded behind him.

There is no recorded argument with Hushai on the way out, no final confrontation with Absalom and no palace-door speech announcing that everyone would regret ignoring him.

The donkey simply carried him home.

It did not ask what had happened in the meeting.

Back in his own town, Ahithophel entered his house.

There were still things requiring his attention.

He put his household in order. Whatever arrangements needed making, he made them.

Then Ahithophel died by suicide.

He was buried in his father’s tomb.

The road remained where it was.

So did Jerusalem.

And somewhere inside the city was a map that had been left open.

The Last Meeting

Eventually, someone had to clear the room.

It was no longer the place where two famous counselors had competed for a king’s attention. It was simply a room after a meeting.

The lamps had burned low.

Someone collected a cup.

Then another.

The papers and scrolls were gathered.

At last, the map could be rolled.

There was no need for it anymore.

One chair was still standing slightly away from the table.

Perhaps nobody thought much about whose it had been.

Chairs are practical things.

Another meeting would come.

Another problem would need solving.

Another person would have something important to say.

Someone reached for the chair and pushed it neatly back into place.

The map was gone.

The table was clear.

The room was ready for the next meeting.