Joab, Abishai, and Ittai - the chief command being entrusted to Joab, since the people would not allow the

king himself to go into battle. The field was most skillfully chosen for an engagement with undisciplined

superior numbers, being a thick forest near the Jordan,26 which, with its pitfalls, morasses, and

entanglements, destroyed more of Absalom's followers t han fell in actual contest. From the first the battle

was not doubtful; it soon became a carnage rather than a conflict.

One scene on that eventful day had deeply and, perhaps, painfully impressed itself on the minds of all

David's soldiers. As they marched out of Mahanaim on the morning of the battle, the king had stood by the

side of the gate, and they had filed past him by hundreds and by thousands. One thing only had he been

heard by all to say, and this he had repeated to each of the generals. It was simply. "Gently,27 for my sake,

with the lad, with Absalom!"

If the admonition implied the existence of considerable animosity on the part of David's leaders against the

author of this wicked rebellion, it showed, on the other hand, not only weakness, but selfishness, almost

amounting to heartlessness, on the part of the king. It was, as Joab afterwards reproached him, as if he had

declared that he regarded neither princes nor servants, and that it would have mattered little to him how

many had died, so long as his own son was safe (2 Samuel 19:6). If such was the impression produced, we

need not wonder that it only increased the general feeling against Absalom. This was soon to be brought to

the test. In his pursuit of the rebels, one of Joab's men came upon a strange sight. It seems that, while

Absalom was riding rapidly through the dense wood in his flight, his head had somehow been jerked in

between the branches of one of the large spreading terebinths - perhaps, as Josephus has it (Ant. 7. 10, 2),

having been entangled by the flowing hair. In this position the mule which he rode, perhaps David's royal

mule - had run away from under him; while Absalom, half suffocated and disabled, hung helpless, a prey to

his pursuers. But the soldier who first saw him knew too well the probable consequences of killing him, to be

tempted to such an act by any reward, however great. He only reported it to Joab, but would not become his

tool in the matter. Indeed, Joab himself seems to have hesitated, though he was determined to put an end to

Absalom's schemes, which he must have resented the more, since but for his intervention the prince would

not have been allowed to return to Jerusalem. And so, instead of killing, he only wounded Absalom with

pointed staves,28 leaving it to his armor-bearers finally to dispatch the unhappy youth. His hacked and

mangled remains were cast into a great pit in the wood, and covered by a large heap of stones. A terrible

contrast, this unknown and unhonored criminal's grave, to the splendid monument which Absalom had

reared for himself after the death of his sons! Their leader being dead, Joab, with characteristic love for his

countrymen, sounded the rappel, and allowed the fugitive Israelites to escape.

But who was to carry to the king tidings of what had happened? Joab knew David too well to entrust them

to any one whose life he specially valued. Accordingly, he sent a stranger, a Cushite; and only after

repeated entreaty and warning of the danger, allowed Ahimaaz also to run with the news to Mahanaim.

Between the outer and the inner gates of that city sat the king, anxiously awaiting the result of that decisive

day. And now the watchman on the pinnacle above descried one running towards the city. Since he was

alone, he could not be a fugitive, but must be a messenger. Soon the watchman saw and announced behind

the first a second solitary runner. Presently the first one was so near that, by the swiftness of his running

the watchman recognized Ahimaaz. If so, the tidings which he brought must be good, for on no other errand

would Ahimaaz have come. And so it was! Without giving the king time for question, he rapidly announced

the God-given victory. Whatever relief or comfort the news must have carried to the heart of David, he did

not express it by a word. Only one question rose to his lips, only one idea of peace29 did his mind seem

capable of contemplating, "Peace to the lad, to Absalom?"

Ahimaaz could not, or rather would not, answer. Not so the Cushite messenger, who by this time had also

arrived. From his language - though, even he feared to say it in so many words -David speedily gathered the

fate of his son. In speechless grief he turned from the two messengers, and from the crowd which, no doubt,

was rapidly gathering in the gateway, and crept up the stairs leading to the chamber over the gate, while

those below heard his piteous groans, and these words, oft repeated, "My son Absalom, my son! My son

Absalom! Oh, would that I had died for thee! Absalom, my son - my son?"