As the sun was setting, a cry went through the camp, “Each one should return to his city and to his homeland.”

One of the members of the prophetic guild, speaking with divine authority, ordered his companion, “Wound me!” ¹  But the man refused to wound him.

Now an archer shot an arrow at random, ¹  and it struck the king of Israel between the plates of his armor. The king ²  ordered his charioteer, “Turn around and take me from the battle line, ³  because I’m wounded.”