‘So he's safe? Thank the Lord!’
‘He's with Samuel at Ramah.’
‘I thought that he didn’t know him.’
‘He doesn’t. He has taken refuge there. He reckons that Father won’t dare to act against the prophet.’
‘So what happens now?’
‘I’ll plead David's case again to Father.’
‘You’re the last person he’ll listen to.’
‘I’ve no choice. We’ve sworn to defend each other with our lives.’
‘You’ll take up arms against Father?’ I asked, aghast.
‘No, never. But I’m ready to die for David.’
I feared that the distinction would be less precise in practice.
‘Father claims that he plans to seize the throne from you.’
‘There's no need; I would willingly surrender it to him. Not since Gideon... not since Joshua has there been such a leader. He’ll make a far better king than me.’
‘Not true!’ I said, my loyalties split. ‘Who else would have braved the precipice to attack the Philistines at Micmash?’
‘That was reckless, not brave. But the Lord was with me that day, as he is with David now. I’m happy to swear allegiance to him. His friendship – his love – has been the greatest blessing of my life.’
I had never felt so proud of my brother. His noble spirit shone through his every word. I wondered uneasily whether David would be so generous about him.
Confined to the house, I wasn’t privy to Jonathan's stratagems but, three days after his visit, he sent word that he had prevailed on Father to pardon David and welcome him back for the Festival of the New Moon. The pardon extended to me, and relief at my release from captivity mixed with excitement at my reunion with David. On the morning of the Festival, I attended the sacrifices in the sanctuary, making a deep obeisance to Father, who gazed at me distractedly, and to Mother, whose kiss was cold. I returned home, donned my newly woven robe, scented myself with aloes and cassia, put ornaments in my hair and waited for David. By the early evening, when the guard arrived to escort me to the feast, he had yet to appear. Terrified that he’d been ambushed on the way, I strove to stay calm as I entered the courtyard and took my place alongside Mother, Hodiah, my aunt and cousin. While the others greeted me warmly, Mother kept aloof, blind to the injustice of blaming me for being as faithful to my husband as she was to hers.
The food was the richest I’d had in weeks, but it tasted as bland as the lentils and buttermilk that Hodiah mashed up for Meribaal. He’d grown so fast during my detention that I felt an added pang for what I’d missed. I glanced across the courtyard where Father sat with Abner, Ahitophel, and his four sons, a place left empty for David, and longed to speak privately to Jonathan. In the event, it was Hodiah who set my mind at rest – and my heart racing.
‘Don’t worry, David is here,’ Hodiah whispered.
‘Where?’ I looked around rapidly.
‘No, not here. At our house. Jonathan did all he could to persuade him to join us. He said that the king was expecting him and would be furious – insulted – if he didn’t appear. But David didn’t trust him – ’
‘Jonathan?’
‘No, the king. Though who knows? He's started to mistrust everyone. So Jonathan promised to gauge the king's mood.’
‘But why hasn’t he come home?’ I asked. ‘The guards were removed yesterday.’
Hodiah dipped her finger in the paste and slipped it into the baby's mouth. As he sucked contentedly, she searched for a reply. ‘Isn’t it obvious? If the king were planning to arrest him, your house would be the first place he’d look.’
At once reassured and fearful, I entered into the general chatter as Keziah, ignoring her mother's rebuke, quizzed me on my part in David's escape. ‘Is it true you dressed him in your robe and veil and led him through a secret passage in the city wall?’ A commotion across the courtyard saved me from responding. Father shouted; Jonathan jumped up, sweeping his cup and bowl to the ground, and strode towards us. As he did so, Father snatched a spear from the guard, who stood as still as a basking lizard, and hurled it at Jonathan, narrowly missing him and hitting the heel of a bondwoman kneeling at the hearth. Her screams were answered by two of her fellow servants, while the rest of us stared in horror at Father.
‘Wife, you’ve betrayed me,’ he shouted at Mother, who paled. ‘Who could believe that this unworthy cur, this deceitful scoundrel, who puts fidelity to his so-called friend, a man who wants to tear the crown from his head, the head from his neck, the...’ He struggled to compound his charge. ‘Who could believe that he's any son of mine?’
Mother wept on my aunt's shoulder, as Jonathan turned back to Father. ‘It's you who's unworthy of David, a man who has shown you unstinting devotion. No wonder Samuel condemned you. If anyone has torn the crown from my head, it's you!’
Father pounced as if trying to rip Jonathan's throat, even though he was several paces away. Abner restrained him, as Jonathan turned to his wife. ‘Come!’ he said, holding out his hand. Clasping her howling baby to her breast, Hodiah accompanied him out. Abner and the twins led Father up to his chamber; Mother made to follow, but my aunt insisted that she go with her until Father recovered. A bevy of wailing servants surrounded the stricken bondwoman, while one of their number fetched honey to salve her wound. Eluding the guard assigned to escort me, I walked home alone.
Hours went by as I waited for David to appear, confident that the conqueror of the Philistines would be able to evade a search party. When dawn brought no more relief than dusk, I determined to seek him out and, borrowing Hamdan's mantle, made my way across the city. I entered Jonathan's courtyard to find Hodiah rocking Meribaal in her arms but, drawing nearer, I saw that it was the mother and not the baby who was crying.
‘What's wrong?’ I asked, fighting for breath. ‘Did Father send his men? Where's Jonathan? Where's David?’
‘No, no one's been. They’re on the roof. Safe in each other's arms.’
‘Thank the Lord!’
‘If you say so.’
‘I must go up to them.’
‘No, you don’t want... really. They’ll be sleeping.’
‘While I’ve lain awake all night, waiting for my husband to return!’
‘You’ll grow used to it.’
‘I’ll creep up. I promise not to disturb them. I just want... need to see him for myself.’
‘Wait, Michal!’
‘Not another moment. He's my husband!’
Furious with Hodiah for obstructing me, I climbed the stairs to the upper floor and the ladder to the roof. Poised on the middle rung, I peered at David and Jonathan huddled together like soldiers on the eve of battle. They looked so beautiful in the milky light, David's pink arm resting on Jonathan's tawny shoulder, that I wanted to run up and kiss them both, but I was afraid of startling them and, while it pained me to admit it, of embarrassing David, who was clearly more at ease naked before his friend than before his wife. All at once, he stirred and ran his arm lazily down Jonathan's back, lower than was necessary to rouse him. I knew that I should announce my presence but a curious unease prevented me. Jonathan woke and, laughing, kissed David on the lips, not dutifully or amicably but with passion. I longed to look away, but I was stuck fast as when the twins tied me to a tree. Then, Jonathan had rescued me; now, he was the one who tortured me, as he slid his tongue down David's chest and lapped it like a dog. Next, David took the lead, pinning Jonathan's arms behind his neck, which felt like a double betrayal since it was a grip that I hated but I’d borne it, thinking it unique to us. Yet, far from looking discomfited, Jonathan grinned as David pushed him on to his stomach and entered him as he had... almost as he had done me.
I wanted to scream; I wanted to run; but my voice and my legs were frozen. Was this how men behaved on their own? Was it something else that I should have been taught to expect? No, I knew without knowing that what they were doing was wrong. Yet they looked so right together that it felt like a g
reater wrong to intrude. Whereas I had endured David's brutishness, Jonathan embraced it. From his smiles – from his sighs – it was clear that, for him, happiness and pleasure were the same. At once everything fell into place, from my previous sight of them together on this very roof to Jonathan's fervent advocacy of my marriage. Rather than my concealing my true feelings from him, he had concealed his from me. I wanted to punish them and shame them. I wanted to tell Father where to find David and the whole city how I’d found him. But, even as I envisioned my revenge, I knew that I could never exact it. In spite of my hurt and humiliation, I cared for them both too much. For the first time in my life, I wished that I were a man: not so that I’d know how to read and write; not so that I’d be free to roam where I pleased; not even so that my husband would look at me the way that he looked at my brother; but so that I could be heartless and faithless and selfish and vicious and base, without a qualm.
Breaking away, I returned to the courtyard to find Hodiah waiting, as if to make common cause. ‘You were right,’ I said, gaining some consolation from thwarting her. ‘They were asleep. They looked so peaceful that I didn’t want to wake them.’
Jonathan called on me later in the morning. My first impulse was to instruct Hamdan to tell him that I was sick, but curiosity to hear what he had to say won out. When he addressed me with the composure of the practised deceiver, my despair was complete.
‘David left at daybreak as soon as the gate was opened. He wanted to see you but he was afraid that there’d be guards.’
‘I understand,’ I said, draining my voice of emotion.
‘He asked me to give you this ring,’ he said, handing me a gold and amber band, engraved with a Philistine dove.
‘Really?’ I asked, wondering if he had done so of his own accord or at Jonathan's instigation or even if it were a gift to Jonathan, which guilt had impelled him to pass on to me. ‘It's beautiful. But you must have it.’
‘What? Why?’
‘See, it's too big for me.’ I twisted it around my middle finger. ‘It will fit you perfectly.’
‘Nonsense,’ Jonathan said, putting it on his little finger, where it stuck.
‘What did I say? Besides I’m sure that David would rather you wore it.’
‘It's a woman's ring.’
‘Even so.’
Jonathan was wearing the ring whenever I saw him over the next few weeks. In spite of my newly restored liberty, I rarely left the house. The city was rife with rumours of David's flight, some saying that he’d joined the Sidonians or even the Philistines, some that he was raising a rebel army to fight the king, with Joab as his first recruit. The most credible, that he had sought refuge with the priests of Nob, was confirmed when Father summoned Ahimelech, the high priest, to appear before him. I too was summoned, expressly to witness my husband's disgrace. Ahimelech, quivering like a beast at the slaughter, explained that David had claimed to be on official business and entreated him for food. They had none except for the sacred bread in the sanctuary, which they gave him when he swore that, having known no women for three days, he and his men were ritually pure. I laughed out loud to learn that, yet again, he had been true to the letter of the Law and false to it in every other respect. But I couldn’t laugh at the aftermath when Father sent an Edomite captain with a troop of guards to kill the priests. Some said that as many as eighty died, along with all the men, women and even children who had served them in the town.
Father's next move was to divorce me summarily from David and arrange my marriage to Paltiel, a Manassehite elder. It was not until he arrived in Gibeah, accompanied by Merab and Adriel, that I discovered he was sixty years old, bald, with pitted cheeks and a carbuncle on his chin the size of his nose. The one person from whom I hoped for sympathy withheld it. Merab, nursing her first child and expecting her second, was more dismissive than ever of my concerns. Having never hidden her contempt for David, she gave it free rein, denouncing him for defying Father and me for abetting his escape. Jonathan, true to form, was outraged by the divorce, warning Father that it was against the Law for any man, regardless of rank, to give his daughter to a second husband while the first was living. Father retorted that David was a traitor and therefore as good as dead – indeed, he soon would be dead – before banishing Jonathan from his presence, prompting my brother to condole with me on an insult that I had barely registered.
‘It's an outrage,’ he said. ‘That relic is no match for a king's daughter.’
‘You thought a shepherd a match for a king's daughter.’
‘He was a hero, young and handsome. Have you seen Paltiel? How can you bear to take him to your bed?’
‘At least I can be sure that he won’t take anyone else to my bed.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I saw you with him, Jonathan.’
‘With whom?’ he asked, lowering his gaze.
‘David.’
‘Of course you have. Everyone has. He's my friend.’
‘I saw you with him on the roof at the last New Moon.’
‘You were there?’ he asked, gulping so deeply that his cheeks appeared to meet.
‘To my unending regret.’
‘I am so sorry.’
‘For what you did or for what I saw?’
‘I wish that I could say “both”, but I can’t. But what you saw... what David and I were doing – you did see what David and I were doing?’ I nodded. ‘Believe me, that had nothing to do with David and you, or me and you, or anyone else besides us.’
‘Really? You exist in your own private world, like Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden? What about Hodiah? What about Meribaal?’
‘It's hard to explain.’
‘Then don’t! But perhaps you’ll understand why an old man, an ugly man with a face like a rockfall, is all that I want and all I deserve.’
TWO
Abigail
Nabal's mother hangs the chain around my throat. As ever, she holds it for a moment too long as though she pictures the beads as blades. As ever, I thank her for her kindness in lending me the jewellery, which, as we both know, is not for Abigail but for Nabal's wife, the richness of my adornment as sure a sign of her son's prestige as the richness of the feast. The gold and amber beads were a part of her bride-price from Nabal's father. Nabal gave no bride-price for me, but then there was no father or brother or even uncle or cousin to whom he might have paid it, since my entire clan was massacred in an Amalekite raid. Some would say that the thrift of the match was part of its attraction and, after twenty-five years of marriage, I might agree. But back then I believed him when he praised my youth and beauty and the fortitude with which I bore my loss. He claimed that his sole desire was to protect me; and, short of betrothal to the king himself, what greater protection could I have wished than the hand of the Calebite chief? True, he had a protuberant lower jaw that gathered drool, a belly like a woman bearing twins, and a scraggy beard like a sheep with scab. But his plainness reassured me. I thought that it would make up for my poverty. I was wrong.
His whole clan opposed the match, his mother suggesting that, since I had no menfolk to avenge my shame, he should take me as his concubine. But he was stubborn and, moreover, he’d convinced himself that he had been elected chief by dint of his discernment. We married and I made every effort to be a good wife, not least at night, when even the bondwomen, who lived lives of unrelenting toil, looked at me with pity. I yearned for a child, to have someone in my life whom I could love without strain or obligation; I yearned for a son to consolidate my position in the household. I conceived quickly – I conceived quickly eleven times – but the longest I ever carried a child was three months. On the two occasions that there was a body in the blood, it resembled a crab more than a person. But I believe that I could have even loved a monster if it were mine. Now it's too late. My cycle of blood, once as regular as the moon, is erratic. I find myself sweating at night even when Nabal is nowhere near. I feel my breasts smart even when he's not clawing them
. His mother urges him to renounce me in favour of a younger, more fruitful wife but, so far, he has ignored her, although less from love or sympathy or even force of habit than indolence.
Nabal's mother – I must give her her name, Shirah, although to me she's purely a function – leaves me and goes to dress. She is intent on outshining all three of her sons’ wives, not, as one might expect, to elicit compliments but, rather, to disparage them. She takes more pleasure in upbraiding people for their insincerity than in thanking them for their kindness. ‘I suppose I can trust you to see that all is in order,’ she says, as though I hadn’t spent every waking hour for the past three days drilling the servants, cleaning the chambers and preparing the food. However much she maintains that she runs the household, she knows full well that, without me, it would fall apart. I am the one who keeps the peace between the brothers; I am the one who feeds the bondmen, pays the servants and hires the labourers; I am the one who advises Nabal on what produce should be kept and what traded, always careful to credit my opinions to him. I break into a rare smile at the thought that, no matter how different its objects, Shirah and I have one thing in common: our contempt.
I go downstairs to speak to the servants. With three days of feasting, the sheep-shearing festival makes heavy demands of them, which I am determined that they should fulfil. I must remind them once again which meats are to be served on which day, which wines are to be served to which guests and which guests are to eat in which place: the dignitaries and elders in Nabal's chamber, the lesser clan members in the courtyard, and the shepherds and labourers in the field. I approach to find that, instead of the anticipated bustle, they are deep in discussion. They break out and stare at me with a mixture of indignation and alarm that I think it wise to ignore.
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