Certain Women

by Madeleine L'engle

  Sophie greeted them with hugs. ‘I’ve made chicken à la king. It’s better than what you’d get at the Algonquin, that’s what my Davie says.’

  ‘Thanks, Sophie. Grandpa Bowman was right; the food on the train was cardboard.’

  Sophie served them, then sat by David. ‘Davie’s play’s closing in a couple of months. They decided not to run it through the summer. They’re going on the road with it, starting in early September, and I’m going along. Louis’s happy in Choir School, and Davie needs me.’

  ‘Nik’s play’ll be going on the road, too,’ Emma said. ‘Most of the cast is going, so it should be fun.’

  ‘I’ll come to Em whenever I can,’ Nik said, ‘Chicago, for instance, where they’ll run for at least a month.’

  ‘Maybe we’ll be there at the same time,’ David said. ‘We’ll be at the Blackstone.’

  ‘And I think we’re at the Shubert,’ Emma said.

  ‘I’ll miss these evenings with Nik’s play. King David is definitely on my mind.’

  Nik had his Bible open. ‘Lots of battles for David, and lots of victories. He beat the Philistines again, and then the Moabites—’

  Sophie interrupted. ‘One of Jesus’ ancestors was Ruth, the Moabitess.’

  ‘Yes, thanks, Sophie. David was a terrifically successful fighter. Successful at everything.’

  ‘Including love,’ Sophie said. ‘Just like my own Davie.’

  Perhaps while Sophie believed it, it was true.

  ‘… and he was generous, was David,’ Grandpa Bowman had preached. Once he moved to Jerusalem, to his own city’—Grandpa Bowman’s voice was quiet, and the people in the pews leaned forward to listen—‘and was settled in his palace and had won many battles, he thought of his friend Jonathan. We do not forget our friends after their deaths. They remain part of the fabric of our lives, influencing our thoughts and actions. So David remembered Jonathan.

  ‘“Is there anyone left of Saul’s family?” he asked. “If there is, I would like to show him kindness for Jonathan’s sake.”

  ‘And there was, indeed, Mephibosheth, Jonathan’s son. When the news came of Saul’s and Jonathan’s deaths, Mephibosheth’s nurse took him and fled in terror for his safety, but in escaping she dropped him, and he was lame in both feet. But David sent for him, and treated the young man kindly, and gave him lands, and servants to farm them, and Mephibosheth lived in Jerusalem and ate at the king’s table.

  ‘But there was no peace for David. Other rulers wanted his land. His sister Zeruiah’s sons, Abishai and Joab, fought with him and for him, and together they drove the Syrian army back, and the Syrians made peace with Israel. Then David sent out Joab with his officers and the Israelite army, but David himself stayed in Jerusalem.

  ‘Why, my people, why? Why did David stay in Jerusalem, instead of going out with his army? On such small incidents does history depend. Had David not stayed in Jerusalem, had he not risen from his nap in the early evening and walked upon his roof, he would not have seen Bathsheba.’

  ‘So come on,’ Sophie urged Nik. ‘How are you going to bring Bathsheba into the play?’

  Nik laughed. ‘I am not going to have David spying on her in her bath.’

  ‘She was beautiful.’ Sophie was pleased, and her pleasure eradicated what would otherwise have been smugness.

  ‘She was beautiful, indeed,’ Nik said. ‘Do you think she knew David could see her when she bathed?’

  ‘She was no dummy,’ Sophie said. ‘She must have known that she would be visible from the palace roof. She probably wanted her David as much as I did mine.’

  ‘How did you meet Dave?’ Nik asked.

  ‘In a movie. I didn’t have a talking part, but I needed the money. Any money. And I was in a bathtub.’ She giggled infectiously. ‘There were lots of bubbles, so it was all quite proper. David opened the bathroom door by mistake—the character he was playing, that is—and apologized. I let out a little squeak and that was my scene. But for some reason the director couldn’t get it right. He kept saying that Davie and I were fine, but he wasn’t satisfied, so we did it over and over. Then Davie asked me out to dinner.’

  ‘And the rest is history,’ David said.

  ‘So there again,’ Nik pointed out, ‘there aren’t any real parallels. You didn’t have a husband, and Dave didn’t have to use foul means to get rid of him.’

  ‘I had a sort of boyfriend,’ Sophie said.

  ‘But no husband, and no murder. We aren’t acting out some inevitable Greek tragedy.’

  David poured himself another glass of milk, looking into it as though for an answer.

  ‘Hey, Sophie,’ Nik said. ‘I wrote a big scene for Bathsheba last night. Want to see it?’

  ‘Of course. Maybe we could read it aloud and I could do Bathsheba?’

  ‘All the wives are in it, all the eight named ones. Too many for a reading.’

  ‘It’s a terrific scene,’ Emma said. ‘I read it last night, hot off the typewriter.’ It would play well, she thought, as Nik handed a sheaf of pages to Sophie. Emma got up and stood behind Sophie’s chair, to read along with her.

  Sophie murmured as she read:

  David’s wives, along with several maidservants, are on the roof of the women’s wing of the palace. Abigail is weaving. Maacah is in a large tub, bathing, with two maidservants pouring fresh water over her shoulders.

  ‘Maacah?’ she asked. ‘Who is Maacah?’

  ‘She’s the daughter of a king, and she’s Tamar and Absalom’s mother, so she’s important,’ Nik explained.

  Some of the women are folding embroidered cloths. Others are relaxing, enjoying the freshness of evening.

  EGLAH: Zeruiah was never the same after Asahel was killed by Abner.

  ABIGAIL: There’s been too much death.

  BATHSHEBA: (Gently) I’m sorry about your baby, your little Daniel. It must have been terrible for you, to give David two sons and lose them both.

  ‘I’m glad she cares,’ Sophie said. ‘I’m glad she and Abigail like each other.’

  ABIGAIL: You’re kind, Bathsheba. Thank you. (She goes on weaving)

  MAACAH: It’s a lovely night. Look at the moon, just coming up behind the olive trees, so tiny, like a fingernail paring.

  ABITAL: I like it when it’s just us women together, and we can forget war.

  HAGGITH: And men.

  EGLAH: Yes, it’s good to be together, the children all in bed or being taken care of by the nursemaids. No matter how they squabble during the day, they’re like angels when they sleep.

  Childless Michal sighs.

  AHINOAM: (To Bathsheba) It’s wonderful, how you can go on being so happy.

  BATHSHEBA: I love David. I’m carrying his child.

  AHINOAM: Don’t you grieve for Uriah?

  Abigail stops weaving and looks at Ahinoam, sensing trouble.

  BATHSHEBA: I wept for him when he was killed in battle. He was a good husband, and I was fond of him. He was kind, and much older than I. He died an honorable death.

  AHINOAM: Did he?

  ABIGAIL: Ahinoam, stop.

  AHINOAM: But she knows, doesn’t she?

  MICHAL: How can she help knowing?

  BATHSHEBA: Know what?

  ABIGAIL: (To Ahinoam) Stop now, before you cause grief.

  AHINOAM: She’ll hear, sooner or later. Better she hear it from us.

  MAACAH: Better she not hear at all.

  BATHSHEBA: Hear what? What’s Ahinoam talking about?

  MAACAH: Nothing.

  MICHAL: Leave well enough alone.

  BATHSHEBA: No, it’s something. What is it? (The women draw back, silently. Maacah gestures to the maids, who withdraw discreetly) Tell me.

  AHINOAM: Uriah. Your husband.

  She’s a stinker, that Ahinoam.’ Sophie looked across the table at Nik. ‘A real heavy.’

  ‘I don’t want to make her too heavy,’ Nik said.

  ‘Go on.’ David was impatient. ‘Hurry. I want to read it, too.’
<
br />   BATHSHEBA: David is my husband. I’m carrying his child.

  AHINOAM: You were carrying his child before Uriah was killed. Don’t you ever wonder how—or why—he was killed?

  BATHSHEBA: (Trembling. Near tears) In battle.

  AHINOAM: Have you spoken to Joab?

  BATHSHEBA: Why would I speak to Joab?

  MAACAH: Ahinoam, why are you doing this?

  ABITAL: She can’t bear to see anybody else happy.

  BATHSHEBA: Abigail! What is this all about? Tell me!

  Abigail leaves the loom and sits on the parapet. Bathsheba runs over to her and sits at her feet. Abigail strokes the girl’s hair.

  ABITAL: (She is troubled, and speaks gently) Bathsheba, dear, you were pregnant before Uriah died.

  BATHSHEBA: Yes, I know, but—

  AHINOAM: So don’t pretend it wasn’t a relief.

  BATHSHEBA: No, no, I could have told Uriah it was his baby.

  MICHAL: Uriah can count. He’d been away for many months.

  BATHSHEBA: But—but—David sent for him. He took him out of battle and brought him to me.

  AHINOAM: Did he lie with you?

  Bathsheba covers her face, weeps. Abigail holds the girl as though she were a small child. Crooning softly.

  ABITAL: He was an honorable and loyal man. He knew he had to go back into the army.

  EGLAH: And a man cannot fight for three days after he’s lain with a woman.

  HAGGITH: It’s a stupid law. I wouldn’t think much of a husband who didn’t break it.

  ‘Me either,’ Sophie said.

  HAGGITH: We don’t know what Uriah really did, after all.

  MAACAH: So we don’t know what really happened. It’s private between Bathsheba and Uriah.

  MICHAL: It’s the law. Uriah did what was right. So he wouldn’t have been able to think the baby was his, would he?

  BATHSHEBA: I don’t know. I’d have—have—

  AHINOAM: There wasn’t anything you could have done.

  MICHAL: So David took care of it.

  BATHSHEBA: (Her voice rises frantically) What do you mean?

  AHINOAM: Ask Joab.

  ABIGAIL: Be quiet. All of you. (To Bathsheba) My dear, you and David were in a terrible position. David did everything he could to make Uriah come to you.

  BATHSHEBA: But Uriah always obeyed the laws …

  MICHAL: Had he been less obedient—

  HAGGITH: And more of a man—

  MICHAL: He might still be alive.

  BATHSHEBA: No—no—

  AHINOAM: David told Joab to send him to the front of the battle lines where he’d be sure to be killed.

  BATHSHEBA: No! (She is screaming now) No!

  ABIGAIL: Hush, my dear.

  BATHSHEBA: David wouldn’t—

  AHINOAM: I thought you knew, or I’d never have mentioned it.

  MICHAL: It was certainly the only way out for David.

  EGLAH: It was what he had to do, that’s plain. So why get so upset?

  Bathsheba sobs while Abigail holds her, murmuring endearments but saying nothing.

  AHINOAM: It wasn’t exactly murder. It’s certainly possible he might not have been killed.

  MAACAH: Or he may have been killed the way any man may be killed when he goes into battle.

  ABITAL: He could have come home safely.

  MICHAL: After all, my father tried to kill David the same way, sending him into battle against the Philistines. And David came home.

  HAGGITH: So David thought Uriah could have come home safely, too.

  AHINOAM: It just happened that he didn’t.

  MICHAL: Perhaps you’re better off this way.

  ABITAL: Hush. She’s really upset. She didn’t know.

  ‘I wish I weren’t too old to play Bathsheba,’ Sophie said. ‘That’s a wonderful scene, Nikkie, wonderful.’ She handed the scene to David, then turned to Nik. ‘After Bathsheba comes into the story, what happens next?’

  ‘Nathan the prophet again,’ Nik said. ‘I suppose I have to have him in the play, but somehow he irritates me. He always has to be right. He didn’t like what King David did, either, and he made that quite clear with his famous story of the poor man and the rich man.’

  ‘What story?’ Sophie asked eagerly.

  Nik smiled. ‘There was a poor man who had no possessions at all except a tiny little ewe lamb, and he treated it just like his child and loved it dearly. And there was a rich man who had many flocks and herds, but when an important traveler came by, the rich man did not take one of his own animals but took the poor man’s little lamb and had it killed and dressed and cooked and served it to the traveler.’

  Sophie held her nose. ‘That stinks.’

  ‘David thought that, too, when Nathan told him the story.’

  ‘So what happened?’ Sophie asked.

  ‘David said the rich man deserved to be killed. And Nathan said to David, “You are the man.”’

  ‘Oh, no!’

  ‘David never denied that he had sinned,’ Nik said. He looked at Emma. ‘What would he have said? Anything from the Psalms?’

  She nodded, leafing through the Bible.

  David looked up from the scene, which he had skimmed. ‘It’s good, Nik. But David’s not in it—’ Then he laughed at himself. ‘I do tend to megalomania on occasion. It’s an excellent scene.’

  ‘Here.’ Emma had the Bible open and read aloud, ‘Have mercy upon me, O God, according to thy loving kindness: according unto the multitude of thy tender mercies blot out my transgressions. Wash me thoroughly from mine iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin. For I acknowledge my transgressions: and my sin is ever before me. Against thee, thee only, have I sinned, and done this evil in thy sight.’ She looked up.

  ‘That’s it!’ Nik cried. ‘And it’s one of the great things about David, that he never tried to rationalize or justify what he’d done. But Nathan was as harsh as Samuel, and as certain that he spoke for God. Nathan told David that God was angry, and that David’s own house would turn against him, and other men would take his wives openly, because David had killed secretly.’

  David said, ‘Nathan and Samuel were alike in presuming to speak for God.’

  ‘David took Nathan at his word,’ Nik said. ‘He cried out in an agony of repentance, “I have sinned against the Lord.”’

  Sophie put her hands to her face. ‘Poor David. Poor Bathsheba.’

  David asked, ‘Was David truly sorry? Nik, what do you think?’

  ‘I think David suddenly saw himself as an ordinary human being who sinned,’ Nik replied slowly, ‘like other human beings, and that’s when he truly began to love God, and to understand that he was God’s anointed, not because he was sinless, but because God had chosen him and he didn’t have to understand why. Yes, I think he was sorry. That he repented.’

  ‘Metanoia,’ David murmured. ‘That’s what your grandfather calls it, Em—turning completely around.’

  Emma nodded. ‘Grandpa said that metanoia is the opposite of paranoia, which is turning in on oneself.’

  Sophie put her arms around her husband’s neck. ‘So it was murder that was wrong, not wanting Bathsheba?’

  David Wheaton held her. ‘Does this come a little close to home, Sophie?’

  ‘You never killed anybody.’

  ‘I committed adultery. For lust for you, I left a wife and an innocent child.’

  ‘But did you love Edith, Davie? Did you?’

  He shook his head. ‘But that was no excuse.’

  ‘But Edith was unkind to Emma—’

  ‘And that made it easier. I could blame Edith. But if she’d been the perfect stepmother I’d probably have fallen for you anyway, Sophie. So I do not excuse myself.’

  Sophie said, ‘I think Edith was just looking for an excuse to get rid of you.’

  Emma looked at her father. He had never committed a physical crime to get his own way. Nevertheless, he had hurt many people. This was the first time he had referred to the breakup of his mar
riage to Edith with any indication of contrition.

  Nik was doodling on his yellow pad. ‘David’s repentance pleased God. Nathan said, “The Lord also hath put away thy sin; thou shalt not die.” Nevertheless, Nathan insisted that, because of what David had done, the child Bathsheba was carrying would die.’

  ‘No, no.’ Sophie pushed away from David.

  He said gently, ‘Bathsheba sinned, too. She committed adultery.’

  Slow color suffused Sophie’s fair face and tears came back to her eyes. ‘My God, if anything happened to Louis—’

  ‘Calm down,’ her husband said. ‘Louis is fine. And you aren’t Bathsheba, and I’m an actor, not a king.’

  ‘The baby was born,’ Nik continued, ‘and it was beautiful, but in a few days it ran a high fever and—’

  ‘Stop.’ Sophie put her fingers in her ears. ‘I don’t want to hear any more.’

  ‘Okay, Sophie, it’s late.’ Emma hugged her stepmother.

  ‘You’re a good girl, Emmelie.’ Sophie rubbed her cheek against Emma’s shoulder. ‘You don’t believe God would kill a baby, do you?’

  ‘No, I don’t.’ She gave Sophie another hug. ‘It’s late, and Nik and I have to go.’

  Nik and Emma walked home. It was cold, and she walked as usual with her left hand plunged into his right-hand coat pocket, his fingers clasped around hers.

  ‘It was hard on Bathsheba,’ Emma said, ‘having the baby be a scapegoat for David’s wrongdoing.’

  ‘David and Bathsheba’s,’ Nik reminded her.

  ‘Okay. Yes.’

  ‘Putting sins on a scapegoat is an ancient idea. The sin has to be got rid of. David could repent and receive God’s forgiveness, but the sin was still there.’ Emma sighed. He held her hand tightly. ‘Look what’s happening in the war right now, innocent people being slaughtered in the bombings—from us, too, Em, not just the Germans. Sorry, love, I know you’re terribly worried about Etienne and Adair, and Ev going overseas.’

  Emma’s pace quickened. ‘Are the innocent people who are being killed in the bombings paying for other people’s sins?’

  ‘Some people would think so.’

  ‘Do you?’