The Spear of Phinehas

With a sudden flash of steel, the tent ripped open and dropped to the ground, exposing their sin to the entire camp. Phinehas raised his spear high above his head - poised to kill with fearsome eyes, and nostrils flaring like a raging bull.

The crowd of onlookers stepped aside as Salman and Othniel arrived on the scene with swords drawn.

In a moment of desperation, the whore embraced Zimri tightly to cover her nakedness, drawing drops of blood from his back with her painted black nails. The facade of modesty was merely a vain act of self preservation for fear of what might happen next.

And it did.

WHACK! Phinehas rammed his spear straight between her shoulder blades. The sheer force of impact threw the couple back to the ground.

“It's not my fault”, cried Zimri, “get her off me”.

Phinehas took one last sobering gaze into Zimri's drunken eyes, before glancing at the woman. Embedded deep in the whore’s back, his spear tip crushed the serpent’s head on her blasphemous tattoo. With a deep breath, Phinehas fastened his grip on the spear then rammed it through the whore’s chest and into Zimri’s lungs. If the thought of mercy ever crossed his mind, it vanished with the gruesome sound of cracking bones and cartillage.

It took a moment for Salman, Othniel and the entire crowd to realize exactly what Phinehas had done. Stunned silence gave way to gasps of shock and awe.

The two lovers lay skewered in a deathly shish kebab, drowning in their own blood. Phinehas leaned heavily down on the shaft forcing it through Zimri’s back and deep into the soil. Not even the convulsions of death could separate them.

Death was a fitting finale for the consummate act of sin.

Their gasping quickly turned to gurgling, as Salman grabbed a blanket to stem the flow of blood. It was too late to save them, but at least he could stop the blood from cursing the ground where they stood.

Joshua arrived out of breath and in complete shock at this barbaric sight.
“Good Lord! What have you done?

“What? I didn’t do anything,” Phinehas replied.

“Why don't you cut their heads off while you're at it?” said Joshua.

“It's not my fault.”

“I didn’t say it was your fault,” replied Joshua, “but a little discretion wouldn’t go astray.”

“Are you absolutely sure you found the right ones?” Othniel asked.

“Of course, stupid.”

“You don't do anything by halves, do you Phinehas?” Joshua continued. “You and Salman clean up this mess. Burn everything, their bodies, clothes, the tent - anything they touched.”

“Can I have my spear back?” Phinehas asked.

“Not here, wash it outside the camp. I don’t want any blood on the ground. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes Sir,” they replied.

The gurgling stopped as Salman continued wrapping the bodies in the groundsheet and binding them to the spear.

“Wait”, said Joshua abruptly.

Looking all around the camp, in every direction he saw the sick getting up off their death beds completely healed.

“Just as I expected,” continued Joshua as he stepped forward to get a better look at the bodies.

He carefully turned the woman’s head with the tip of his sword to get a better look at her face.

“Good Lord!” Joshua exclaimed, “you know who she is?”

The others responded with puzzled expressions.

“Who?” asked Othniel.

“And how do you know her?” Salman asked.

They were fair and simple questions, but Joshua dreaded their frightening answers.