Watchman // A Short Story

But if the watchman see the sword come, and blow not the trumpet, and the people be not warned; if the sword come, and take any person from among them, he is taken away in his iniquity; but his blood will I require at the watchman’s hand.

Ezekiel 33:6

This is the most important job you will ever have.”

The King stood before the Watchman in his throne room, his gaze gentle yet firm. “I will be leaving the City for a day. You must stay on the walls and keep watch. Do not let yourself get distracted. Ignore anyone who tries to draw you away. If they attempt to speak with you, tell them your mission. If they continue to hinder you, remove contact with them. They do not understand the importance of my work.”

The Watchman took this all in with utter rapture. He would let none of the King’s words miss his ears. He would take this assignment with the utmost diligence. What could he ever do that would repay what the King did for him? Watching the City for a night was nothing compared to his great debt.

“Yes, Your Majesty. I will be the most vigilant watchman to ever walk the land. I’ll blow my horn long and loud if I see the Armies of Darkness.”

The King nodded. “Good, Watchman. Be careful that you maintain this same zeal. When it is day, the sun is bright, and the enemy is far, it is easy to be confident. But beware, lest the nighttime catch you asleep—or, even worse, absent.”

The Watchman’s eyes bulged. “Asleep? Good King, I could never do that. This task is of far too high stakes.”

“I expect you will. If you are faithful to your duty, you will receive a crown in reward. Now, remember my warning. Night approaches, and my carriage is ready. Be on the wall well before sundown.”

“I will, Your Majesty. I shall be there as soon as you leave.”

The King said some final words of encouragement before walking out of his gilded throne room and to his waiting carriage. The Watchman followed him out and saluted as he rattled away.

As soon as the gate slammed shut, the Watchman turned and ascended the stairs that led up the wall. He came to the top and watched the King depart down the highway, finally vanishing beyond the horizon.

Looking to the land before the gate, the Watchman began his arduous task. It would take effort, he knew, but he could do it with the King’s strength.

For a full hour, he watched the terrain for any invaders. The Armies of Darkness were nowhere to be seen; for this he was glad. As the sun sunk behind the mountains to the west, the Watchman’s stomach growled and he glanced back toward his residence in the City. He had left behind a half-eaten dinner, as the King’s summoning had interrupted him. Though he did not regret seeing the King, he wished he might have thought to finish it before coming to the wall.

“Hail, Watchman!” The voice came from below, back in the City. The Watchman looked over.

“Fletcher! What are you doing here?”

“You are up there during the time of the evening meal! I surmise that you have not eaten.”

“The King summoned me to watch the City while he was departed. I have no time for food.” The Watchman’s stomach grumbled again, and he questioned the determination in his statement.

“Ah, the Armies of Darkness dare not attack while it is still dusk. They use the cover of night, as you well know. Watching the City can wait a few minutes, can it not?”

“Well…” The Watchman looked back at the rolling terrain outside the walls. Something moved. He knew it was a wild animal, but it reinforced his resolve. “No. I cannot. The King has given me a task, and I cannot fail.”

“Oh, ease up, Watchman. My wife has invited you to be the guest of honor at our feast tonight. Please, come and fill up. Surely the King does not expect you to go all night on an empty stomach.”

The Watchman’s stomach groaned for food. His determination ebbed. “I…I suppose. But not for long at all.”

“Of course. You will lose hardly any time. Half an hour at the most.”

The Watchman followed the Fletcher to his house, coming in to a merry banquet of his friend’s large family. They all welcomed the Watchman with smiles and warm greetings. Perhaps…I can stay for an hour. It won’t be long, really. How can I let my friend down? A nagging voice—much quieter than the one urging for pleasure—reminded him of his duty. You can’t let the King down either. But the Watchman shoved that voice to the side, explaining to it that no armies could attack at such a time. The City would be perfectly safe.

As the sun set and the moon rose, the Watchman could be heard eating and drinking and making merry from the Fletcher’s house.

After more than an hour, the Watchman looked out the window to see the moon high in the night sky. “Oh, no! I have been absent from my post!” He jumped up and ran for the door.

“Can’t you stay just a few minutes more?” the Fletcher asked.

“No, I cannot stay a second longer. I have been here for more time than I wish to admit, and there is no one watching the wall. Please do not speak with me again tonight—or any other night, for that matter. You have obstructed a servant of the King.”

The Watchman burst out the door and rushed back to his post. Ascending the stairs, he looked at the landscape—now silvery with moonlight. Irresponsible and lazy is what you are. How could you let it get so late before you came out? He chided himself and looked back at the time with regret.

Eventually, he resolved himself to never get distracted that night again. He would keep his eyes straight ahead, not even bothering to turn toward anyone who called his name.

For hours he did this, diligently looking at the land for any sign of an enemy attack. If the King had seen him then, he would have commended him as the best watchman in the kingdom.

However, his legs grew weary with time and his throat was parched. He wished only for a place to rest and warm up, but he had determined to do his job, and that he would do. Even if he left his post now, he would have to gather firewood and kindle a flame in his hearth, which would take much time. He had to endure.

A warm fire and comfortable wool couch forced their way into his mind. They sat there so tempting, just within reach…

“Watchman, you look like you need a rest!”

The Watchman shook his thoughts back into focus and ignored the voice. He refused to see who was calling him.

“Watchman? It’s Blacksmith. Are you okay up there?”

The Watchman glanced toward the shadowed forest. Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him. You’ll fail the King, and he’ll never forgive you.

“Watchman, you’ll freeze to death if you don’t come down and warm up. A fire is blazing in my hearth, and I have drawn in fresh water from the well. Just come down for a moment, I beg of you.”

The Watchman finally turned. His self-control was weakening, and he had to get rid of this man before he gave in. “I must refuse your offer, and I mean no rudeness by it. I have a task from the King, and I cannot let him down.”

“Come on, Watchman. I beg that you’d come down, as a friend. I would never try to keep you from your mission, but the King cannot use watchmen that are frozen solid.”

He has a point…

“O—only for a few moments?” the Watchman asked.

“Stay as long or short as you like, but please, come to my house and warm up before you die up there.”

Well, the King wouldn’t have a lot of use for a dead watchman…and I have seen no movement for hours… “I will come down, Blacksmith. But only for a few minutes.”

They entered his house, and as soon as he entered the Watchman felt the blazing fire warming his bones. The Blacksmith brought a pitcher of crystal clear water, which the Watchman gulped up in moments. He collapsed near the blaze and watched it, growing more drowsy with every crackle.

“I think I’ll…go to sleep for a while,” he said.

“Take your time, Watchman. My home is yours.”

The King knows I can’t stand guard all night. He understands if I have to take a break…

A sharp crack jolted the Watchman awake. Enemies have attacked the gate! All his drowsiness wore off immediately. He ran out the door and looked toward the gate. As soon as he saw it, he relaxed. It must have been the remnant of a dream, for the gate was still perfectly intact.

See? You took a short rest, and nothing happened. Now you are ready to return, and you are warm and full.

His steps were light as he approached his post. He had once again got away with absence. And, he had enjoyed a delightful time with both of his friends. He wished he hadn’t cut off with the Fletcher so abruptly, for he might enjoy stopping by again and eating another plate of that peppered quail.

In fact, that was exactly what he purposed to do when a loud snap shook the night. He tensed at first, but then realized it was nothing. The gate was still securely shut. And anyway, even if I don’t warn the people of the Army’s approach, the gates would hold them off long enough for the militia to arm.

Another crack. This time he could hear a heavy thump behind it, suggesting a battering ram. He changed his course from the Fletcher’s house to the front gate.

A piece of the gate splintered and collapsed. The Watchman’s heart sank at what he saw next. Hordes of dark soldiers began pouring in through the hole, filtering down the streets of the City and breaking down doors. Screams of mothers and wives came echoing down the alleys and roads.

He reached for his horn to warn the City, but all his hand met was air. He must have left it on the wall. As the soldiers worked through the City, his legs shook. I should have never let myself get distracted, just as the King said. Now this is all my fault.

The City’s army rushed into action, but it was too late. Darkness’ armies had spread out and far outnumbered the warriors of the City. The Watchman trembled from terror and guilt, running to his own house, which was far from the gate. He closed the door, barred it, and collapsed on his floor in a miserable heap. He had failed! He was too distracted with present joys and comforts to see the army. And now, the City would fall because of him.

He lay there for an eternity, weeping and realizing his foolishness over and over again. Eventually, light streamed into his house, and he looked up.

The King! He had said he’d be back the next day. In fact, he could hear the sounds of battle—not of brutal soldiers murdering citizens, but of sword-on-sword combat—coming from outside. He peeked out of his house to see a bright and shining army of gold knights chasing the Armies of Darkness away. Dawn had come, and with it the King.

The Watchman stood before the King, looking down at his feet. He could never bear looking at those kind eyes again. He had failed the King, and he knew he would be forever hated and held as a traitor to the City.

“Watchman.” He continued staring down. “Look at me.” His eyes reluctantly rose to meet the King’s sad face. “I am disappointed with your service. You have failed the task I gave you.”

It was all the Watchman could do to refrain from weeping again. “I am eternally sorry! I know you cannot forgive me, but please, at least let me die quickly.”

“Die? Who said you would be executed?”

“No one, Your Majesty, but I surely deserve such a punishment.”

The King looked intently at the Watchman. “Listen carefully to my words. You have done a very foolish thing. I thought I could trust you for watching the City, but you allowed yourself to become occupied by the things of the present, rather than considering the consequences of the future.

“I hold you responsible for the blood shed during the night. However,” the King gently lifted the Watchman’s face again, which had sunk back down in shame. “I will forgive you.

“No punishment will be administered, and you will be allowed back in my service. Remember that you are mine now, and nothing can change that. I expect my subjects to serve me in love, not fear of punishment.”

The Watchman nodded, tears in his eyes.

“While you will not be punished, the crown of reward will not be given unto you. You have robbed yourself of it. Now, let us forever remember this as an example of why you should always heed my voice. Many wives would not be grieving today if you had done your job.” The Watchman wept openly.

“Come, Watchman. Let us go and comfort the people.”

Want to see more content like this? Check out Cryptic Walls and Before the Fire Burns, two short books on the Benefield Bookmark with strong Christian themes.