Chapter Five — Reputation
Reputation was a two-sided coin.
It could be a blessing—or a harrowing curse.
Once a name entered the mouths of men, however, its owner rarely had any control over what followed.
Across the land of Israel, whispers had begun to spread.
A Rank One beast had been slain on the outskirts of the forest.
Some claimed a band of experienced hunters had cornered it. Others swore they had seen only a single figure.
By midday, the beast had doubled in size. By evening, whoever had killed it was said to possess strength beyond that of an ordinary man.
Yet the truth was stranger still.
Because the closest settlement to where the beast had fallen was no city, fortress or renowned hunting ground.
It was Zorah.
A quiet village surrounded by farmland, grazing livestock and families who wanted little more than to live beneath the favour of the Lord.
And half a mile downstream from the edge of the forest stood a modest family compound.
At its centre, seven-year-old Samson lay unconscious.
"Again."
Manoah's voice was unusually stern.
The two men standing outside his home exchanged uncomfortable glances.
"We found him beside the beast," one repeated. "Just before sunrise."
"And you are certain nobody else was there?"
"Certain."
Manoah's expression darkened.
The second man scratched his beard.
"There were tracks."
Manoah immediately looked towards him.
"What kind?"
The man hesitated.
"The boy's."
Silence.
"And the lion's."
Manoah stared at him.
"That's impossible."
"That is what we thought."
Behind them, several villagers had already gathered near the edge of the property. Some pretended to concern themselves with the livestock while others made no attempt to hide their curiosity.
News travelled quickly in a place like Zorah.
Far too quickly.
Lily emerged from the doorway.
"Manoah."
He turned immediately.
"He's awake."
Manoah forgot the men entirely and rushed inside.
Samson lay beneath a thin blanket, his face pale and exhausted. Linen had been wrapped tightly around his arm, though faint patches of blood had already begun staining through it.
The wounds were terrible.
Yet strangely, some of the torn flesh had already begun pulling itself together.
Not enough to heal him.
But enough to make Lily uneasy.
The moment Samson noticed his father, a weak smile appeared on his face.
"Dad…"
Manoah crossed the room and knelt beside the bed.
"What happened?"
Samson's smile disappeared.
He looked down at himself.
"I fell."
Manoah blinked.
Lily stared at him.
"You fell?" Manoah repeated.
Samson nodded.
"On a root."
Manoah closed his eyes.
"The arm, Samson."
"Oh."
The boy looked slightly embarrassed.
"There was a lion."
Neither parent spoke.
Samson continued.
"I was going to the stream. I tripped, and I was going to heal myself, but then I felt something watching me."
His hands tightened around the blanket.
"It came out of the trees."
Lily's face slowly lost its colour.
"So I ran."
Manoah listened carefully.
"I was faster than it."
A hint of childish pride entered Samson's voice.
Then his expression changed.
"But I remembered home."
His eyes moved between his parents.
"I thought if I kept running, it might follow me here."
Lily covered her mouth.
"So I stopped."
Manoah already knew where this was going.
Some part of him desperately wished he didn't.
"What did you do?"
Samson looked at him.
"I asked Father for Strength."
Manoah's breath caught.
Samson had called the Lord Father from almost the moment he had learned to pray.
Manoah had never corrected him.
He wasn't sure he had the right to.
"And then?"
"I hit it."
Manoah stared at his son.
"You hit the lion?"
Samson nodded.
"It hit me too."
He raised his bandaged arm slightly before wincing.
Lily immediately pushed it back down.
"Don't move that."
"Sorry, Mum."
Manoah remained silent for several moments.
"How hard did you hit it?"
Samson thought about the question.
"Really hard."
Lily almost laughed despite herself.
Manoah did not.
"The men who found you said the lion was dead."
"I know."
"You killed it?"
Samson hesitated.
Then nodded.
"I think so."
Manoah slowly sat back.
A Rank One beast.
Killed by his seven-year-old son.
He remembered the angel sitting at their dining table years earlier.
The strength the Lord had prepared for him.
The impossible future spoken over a child who had not even been conceived.
At the time, those words had seemed distant.
Now they were lying injured in his home.
Lily seemed to reach the same conclusion.
"Samson," she asked carefully, "when you asked for strength, how much of your Faith Essence did you use?"
"All of it."
Her expression tightened.
"All of it?"
Samson nodded.
"But it still wasn't enough."
Manoah looked sharply at him.
"What do you mean?"
"I asked for Strength twice."
Samson tried to remember.
"The second time used everything I had."
He paused.
"The lion was still stronger."
Lily and Manoah exchanged a glance.
"Then how did you kill it?" Manoah asked.
Samson looked confused by the question.
"I asked again."
Manoah leaned forward.
"You had no Faith Essence left?"
"No."
"But you still called upon Heaven?"
Samson nodded.
"And what did you say?"
"More."
The room became silent.
Manoah stared at him.
"What happened?"
Samson smiled faintly.
"Father gave me more."
Neither parent spoke.
Faith Essence fuelled every supernatural act known to man.
Blessings.
Techniques.
The abilities of Awakeners.
Everything required it.
If a vessel was empty, there should have been nothing left to draw upon.
Yet Samson had emptied himself—
and Heaven had answered anyway.
Manoah did not understand what that meant.
Something told him he did not want the rest of Israel asking the same question.
Outside, another voice joined the growing crowd.
Then another.
And another.
The story was already escaping them.
Manoah stood and walked towards the window.
Nearly twenty people had gathered outside.
His stomach sank.
"Lily."
She followed his gaze.
"Oh no."
A loud knock struck the door.
KNOCK! KNOCK!
Manoah sighed.
"I'll deal with it."
He stepped outside and was immediately surrounded by questions.
"Is the boy alright?"
"Was he really beside the lion?"
"Who killed it?"
"Was there a warrior nearby?"
"Did Samson see what happened?"
Manoah raised both hands.
"Enough!"
The crowd quietened.
"My son was injured and needs rest. That is all anyone needs to know right now."
A grey-haired farmer near the front frowned.
"Manoah, a Rank One beast was found dead less than a mile from our homes."
Murmurs of agreement followed.
"We need to know if whoever killed it is still nearby."
Another man nodded.
"And whether there are more beasts."
Manoah understood their concern.
He also understood that telling them the truth would create far more questions than it answered.
"There was only one lion."
The farmer's eyes narrowed.
"How do you know?"
Manoah paused.
A mistake.
"How do you know, Manoah?"
Before he could answer, a small voice came from behind him.
"Because I only saw one."
Manoah's eyes widened.
Samson stood in the doorway.
"Samson!" Lily hurried after him. "You should be lying down."
"But they're asking about the lion."
Every eye turned towards the boy.
His arm was wrapped heavily in linen. Scratches covered his face and legs, while dried blood still stained portions of his clothing.
The grey-haired farmer stared at him.
"You saw it?"
Samson nodded.
"Where was the person who killed it?"
Samson frowned.
"There wasn't anyone else."
The murmuring stopped.
The farmer looked confused.
"What do you mean?"
Samson glanced towards Manoah.
His father subtly shook his head.
Unfortunately, Samson understood the warning several seconds too late.
"I killed it."
Silence.
Complete silence.
Manoah closed his eyes.
Lily slowly rubbed her forehead.
Someone at the back laughed.
Then another.
The grey-haired farmer stared at Samson before chuckling.
"Alright, boy. And I suppose you carried the thing home afterwards?"
Samson looked offended.
"No. It was really heavy."
More laughter erupted from the crowd.
Manoah opened his eyes.
Perhaps this would not be disastrous after all.
Nobody believed him.
Then one of the men who had discovered Samson stepped forward.
"I don't think he's joking."
The laughter weakened.
"What?"
The man's expression was grim.
"I inspected the ground."
He pointed towards Samson.
"The smaller tracks belonged to him."
Another villager scoffed.
"He could have arrived afterwards."
"No."
The man shook his head.
"The lion chased him."
The crowd slowly quietened.
"There were claw marks in the earth. Broken branches. Tracks from the beast and the boy following the same path."
He swallowed.
"And where the lion died…"
His gaze moved towards Samson.
"There was only one set of human footprints."
The atmosphere changed.
People no longer looked at Samson with amusement.
They stared.
Samson shifted uncomfortably.
The farmer spoke first.
"How did you kill it?"
Samson looked towards his father.
This time, Manoah gave him no answer.
"I punched it."
The farmer blinked.
"You punched a Rank One lion?"
"Yes."
"Once?"
Samson thought about it.
"Yes."
Nobody laughed.
A woman quietly pulled her child closer.
Another villager whispered to the man beside him.
"Has he awakened?"
Samson frowned.
"No."
The man stared.
"What?"
"I haven't awakened."
Another silence.
This one was different.
An awakened child would have been extraordinary.
An unawakened child killing a Rank One beast was something else entirely.
"That's impossible," someone muttered.
"He must have awakened without knowing."
"You don't simply fail to notice an Awakening."
"Then how did he do it?"
The questions started again.
Samson looked increasingly uncomfortable.
"I asked for strength."
The farmer stared at him.
"Asked who?"
Samson pointed upward.
"The Lord."
Several villagers looked towards the sky.
Others looked towards Samson.
A few laughed nervously.
But an old woman near the rear of the crowd did not.
Her expression had changed.
She stared at Samson for several seconds before quietly making the sign of reverence across her chest.
Manoah noticed.
"Enough."
His voice cut through the crowd.
"My son needs rest."
He looked around at the gathered villagers.
"You have seen that he is alive. You know the beast is dead. Return to your homes."
Reluctantly, they began to disperse.
But Manoah knew it was already too late.
They left in groups of two and three.
And every group was talking.
By sunset, everyone in Zorah knew.
By the following morning, neighbouring farms knew.
Within three days, merchants travelling through the region had heard the story.
The details changed with every telling.
"A child survived an attack from a Rank One beast."
Became—
"A child fought a Rank One beast."
Then—
"A seven-year-old killed a Rank One beast."
Then—
"An unawakened seven-year-old killed a Rank One beast with his bare hands."
Some refused to believe that part.
So the story changed again.
"He must be hiding his Awakening."
Others had another explanation.
"The boy is blessed."
That version travelled even faster.
Along the road to Timnah, a merchant claimed Samson had spoken a single word and gained the strength of ten men.
By the time the story reached another settlement, it had become twenty.
Then fifty.
Another version claimed the heavens themselves had struck the beast dead.
One insisted the child had wrestled the lion for an entire night.
Someone else claimed Samson had torn its head from its shoulders.
Rumours had little respect for truth.
Yet hidden amongst all the absurdity was one detail nobody could explain away.
The lion truly was dead.
Its skull had been shattered.
And a seven-year-old boy truly had been found beside it.
The rumour continued north.
Then east.
Through markets.
Military outposts.
Temples.
Caravans.
Eventually, what had begun as frightened gossip in a farming village became something far more dangerous.
A written report.
Rank One beast confirmed deceased.
Cause of death: catastrophic trauma to the skull.
No weapon recovered.
No known combatant identified.
Only surviving witness claims responsibility.
Male child.
Seven years of age.
No evidence of Awakening.
Reported use of an unidentified blessing.
Location:
Zorah.
Several days later, the report arrived at the centre of Israel.
Othniel sat alone within the Judges' hall when the scroll was placed before him.
He barely looked at it.
"Another beast report?"
"Yes, my Judge."
"Leave it."
The messenger bowed and departed.
For several minutes, Othniel continued reading another document.
Then his eyes happened to fall upon a single line.
Seven years of age.
His fingers stopped.
Slowly, Othniel pulled the scroll towards himself.
He read the report once.
Then again.
His relaxed expression disappeared.
"No evidence of Awakening…"
He read the line a third time.
"Jair."
His voice echoed throughout the hall.
A short while later, heat entered the chamber.
Jair pushed through the doors looking thoroughly irritated.
"Do you have to summon me every time I'm in the middle of something?"
"Read."
Something in Othniel's voice stopped him.
Jair approached and took the scroll.
His eyes moved down the report.
"A Rank One lion?"
"Continue."
Jair read further.
His brows slowly furrowed.
"Seven?"
Othniel said nothing.
Jair continued.
Then stopped.
"No evidence of Awakening?"
"Precisely."
Jair looked up.
"That's impossible."
Othniel leaned back.
"You use that word far too freely."
"Master, an ordinary seven-year-old cannot kill a Rank One beast."
"I am aware."
"Then the boy has awakened."
"The men who examined him disagree."
"Then they're incompetent."
"Perhaps."
Othniel held out his hand.
Jair returned the report.
"Or perhaps you're trying to force the world to fit inside rules it never agreed to follow."
Jair frowned.
Othniel looked down at the report again.
Faith Essence existed within all living things.
Awakening merely changed a person's relationship with it.
But Awakening was not the only way the heavens had ever granted men power.
There were blessings.
Covenants.
Gifts recorded so rarely that entire generations could pass without witnessing one.
And buried within Israel's oldest records were stranger accounts still.
Men and women who called upon the heavens with nothing more than their voices.
People whose words seemed capable of directing the Faith Essence within them.
Most scholars considered the stories embellished.
Some considered them parables.
Othniel had never been completely convinced.
Jair noticed the change in his expression.
"What are you thinking?"
Othniel did not answer immediately.
Instead, he pointed towards the bottom of the report.
"Where?"
Jair looked.
"Zorah."
The word seemed insignificant.
A farming village.
No fortress.
No prestigious clan.
No renowned school of cultivation.
Exactly the sort of place no one would bother looking twice.
Othniel's eyes narrowed.
"How many years has it been?"
Jair frowned.
"Since what?"
"Since the heavens shifted."
Realisation slowly appeared across Jair's face.
"Seven."
The room became very quiet.
For seven years, Israel's diviners had searched for the Child of Calamity.
For seven years, they had failed to find him.
And now an unawakened seven-year-old had appeared in an insignificant village after somehow killing a Rank One beast.
Othniel rose from his throne.
"Interesting."
Jair stared at him.
"You think it's him."
"I think certainty is the favourite weapon of fools."
Othniel folded the report.
"But ignoring this would be considerably more foolish."
Jair crossed his arms.
"So what do we do?"
"Find Ehud."
Jair's expression immediately soured.
"Why her?"
"Because I require someone capable of entering a village without announcing their presence from three miles away."
Jair stared at him.
Othniel stared back.
"Are you calling me loud?"
"You once burned down half a tavern because someone mocked your sabre."
"They insulted its craftsmanship."
"Find Ehud."
Jair muttered something under his breath and turned towards the door.
"Jair."
He stopped.
Othniel's expression had changed.
The amusement was gone.
"Tell her not to approach the child."
Jair frowned.
"She is to observe him. His family. His behaviour."
"And his blessing?"
"Especially that."
Jair hesitated.
"You really think an unawakened child could possess something capable of killing a Rank One beast?"
Othniel looked down at the report.
"Faith Essence does not belong exclusively to Awakeners."
Jair fell silent.
"And neither do the gifts of Heaven."
Far away in Zorah, Samson sat beneath the shade of an apple tree with his injured arm resting across his lap.
Two children walked past the edge of his family's land.
They stared at him.
Samson stared back.
One whispered into the other's ear.
Both hurried away.
Samson frowned.
"What was that about?"
From the orchard, Lily pretended not to hear him.
Another group passed later.
More whispers.
More staring.
By afternoon, Samson had finally had enough.
He marched towards his mother.
"Mum."
"Yes?"
"Why is everyone being weird?"
Lily paused.
She looked towards her son.
For seven years, Samson had simply been Samson.
Her boy.
Manoah's son.
The strange little child who prayed with a sincerity beyond his years and occasionally asked Heaven for things no child should have been capable of receiving.
But Zorah had seen him now.
Soon, others would too.
Lily forced a smile.
"People like to talk."
Samson frowned.
"About me?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Lily looked towards the road.
A merchant's cart was disappearing into the distance.
"Because you did something they'll remember."
Samson seemed satisfied with the answer.
Lily was not.
Strength had saved her son's life.
But strength had also done something neither she nor Manoah could undo.
It had given Samson a reputation.
And somewhere beyond the quiet fields of Zorah, people had already begun searching for the boy behind the name.