by Fiona Tarr
She wrapped the headscarf around her face, although she hated to wear one, but it was necessary in the Capital for many reasons. She needed to remain anonymous and she knew that a woman not wearing a head covering in public would be offensive to local custom. No matter how ridiculous she felt the custom was, it had to be upheld.
She was looking forward to a deep warm bath and some scented oils as she rode into the grounds of the healing house. The walls of the palace could be seen above the main hall, so very close to Martinez once more!
Chapter 18
The months had gone so quickly, Martinez pondered. David and Jonathan spent many hours together training, hunting and relaxing. Occasionally they would settle local disputes. The nation was once again returning to a state of commerce, instead of war. The King had become more and more aloof, spending days closeted away with Jezebel. Martinez had tried to encourage him to engage with the Senate—to remember his duty—to do anything but spend so much time with the witch as he had come to think of Jezebel. All his efforts were without success. Saul would have none of it. He did not call for David to play for him any longer. When David’s name was mentioned he would become agitated and his mood would darken further. Recently Saul had sent David to just about every little village skirmish he could think of. Was it to keep David away from the Senate, who continued to praise him? Or was it in the hopes that some raiding village thugs might happen to kill him? Many meetings with Francesca had failed to uncover the reason for the King’s mistrust. Jealousy was the most likely cause. Yet David was still only a young man, his fame was not as marvellous as Saul believed.
Saul had announced a feast for that evening; something did not feel right about it. Martinez could feel the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. He needed to see Francesca to discuss his concerns. He wanted to see her for more than matters of governance, yet he was still unwilling to admit it to himself.
The dawn sun was peaking over the parade ground walls, casting eerie shadows. Martinez adored training in the dawn light; while the world slept and the beauty of nature masked the sounds of humanity. This morning he could hear the birds waking, their warbling a familiar sound. He was running through his final sword forms, perspiration running down inside his tunic despite the cool morning air.
Lunge, thrust, block, pivot, 'Sir, sorry to disturb you, the lady at the gate said this was urgent.' The guard marched forward on the nod of Martinez’s head.
'That is fine Bartholomew, thank you for your haste. You mentioned the lady. Did you recognise this lady? My reports usually come with men.'
'Yes sir, the lady Francesca delivered the message.’
'Thank you Bartholomew. I ask you keep her identity to yourself please.' Martinez frowned to himself. Why would she expose her identity? It was extremely risky. 'That will be all. Carry on with your watch. Good work,' Martinez said as a quick after thought, already moving towards his quarters, opening the sealed letter as he walked.
Bartholomew saluted, turned on his heel, and then shrugged off the strange request not to tell anyone of the lady. It was none of his business who the General took to his bed, keeping it a secret should be obvious. She was a Priestess of the One, after all.
Martinez was taking a risk opening the letter out in the open. He usually waited until he was safely in his quarters, yet for Francesca to have delivered the message herself meant she felt it urgent enough to risk exposing her identity. Martinez found a spot by the wall out of sight of any of the guards. The parade ground was beginning to come awake now. Still there was only grey light filtering over the walls and privacy was not hard to find.
'Meet me by Saul’s monument, at the eleventh hour.' The message had been scrawled out, but there was no mistaking Francesca’s handwriting. Martinez wanted to meet her now. He was also aware that the timing of the meeting was everything. They had to meet at one location, in public and then she would take him to a neutral location of her choosing. Both locations were different every time. It had to be that way to ensure there were no habits to be watched or followed. At least it gave him time to return to his quarters to clean himself up. He did not exactly understand why, but meeting Francesca smelling of sweat from the training ground was not an option. He was sure she would not have cared. She showed no interest in anything except her work, which she took very seriously.
****
Francesca prayed Martinez would get her message in time. Bartholomew had recognised her, she had no idea someone who knew her would be on the gate. He was close to both David and Martinez, making it very unlikely he would say anything about seeing her, especially if Martinez asked him not to. She specifically told him to mention she had delivered the letter, in hopes Martinez would ask him not to tell anyone about her. If she had asked him this, it would have meant nothing. For his General and friend to do so, the outcome would be more predictable.
She had really missed Martinez, even if she struggled to admit it to herself. They had seen each other intermittently over the past months, always briefly and always to discuss David, the King or Jezebel, never to simply spend time together. She did not really know why she craved time to talk of other matters. Yet each time she saw Martinez, the need to see him again grew stronger.
She took a seat on the edge of the pond surrounding the massive statue of the King. She wore her headscarf over her face to help hide her identity. It was beginning to irritate her now, reducing the airflow around her long dark hair. Sweat was dripping from her hair down her back and there was no breeze in the busy square. She was beginning to wish she had set the time earlier in the day, when the sun was lower.
The ledge she sat down on was beautiful white marble, with black veins of colour running through it like tiny cracks. The pond water was full of purple lily flowers, floating on dark green leaf pads. She watched the fountain, sprinkling fresh water droplets onto the flower petals, almost in slow motion. All sense of time stopped as Francesca meditated on the flower; her vision swam out of focus, becoming misty. She could see David, running through the forest; he ducked under a branch to come up right in front of a soldier. He swerved to avoid a spear thrust, grabbing the spear in his hand and stabbed the wielder in the groin with a short sword. Again her vision misted over; this time she saw David marrying an older woman. Still more visions came, David dressed for war, a woman with long golden red hair, Martinez saluting David, then as quickly as the visions had come, her gaze once again focussed on the purple water lily floating alone, helplessly in the seemingly vast pond. She could not mistake the parallels of the lily and David’s future. His destiny was unfolding fast, yet she believed he was still ill equipped to handle it. He had no idea what was in store for him. She wondered not for the first time, if she should be working more closely with David, preparing him, even telling him of his future. She shook the thought from her mind. It could change everything. He would simply have to cope as his future unfolded.
There had been many unbidden visions coming to her recently. This was the reason for her urgent meeting with Martinez. Events were beginning to move quickly and she had to do what she could to help David. As far as Martinez was concerned though, this was more about the King and the nation’s stability; they were one in the same ultimately. Francesca had no wish to make David’s future known to anyone; keeping the truth from Martinez did not sit well with her, although she believed it was necessary.
As if on cue Martinez arrived at the pond. She quickly met his eyes and began to walk in front of him so they would not be seen together. She ducked under a market shade into a café; the smell of fresh baked hot cakes greeting her. Martinez crossed the street to a stall, absently looking at a few items on sale before turning and walking into the cafe. At the end of the room, past all the tables he could see Francesca standing by an archway leading into a back room. Once she was sure he had seen her, she moved on into the hallway. Martinez followed.
The cafe was empty except for a few staff preparing for the morning visitors who would break their fas
t. The wealth of the Israeli people was growing. Many travellers who were staying on business, would eat at cafes like this one, rather than at taverns where less wealthy and often less desirable people spent their time. The cafes were safer options, usually in the better part of larger towns as this one was; near the markets and only steps from the palace and the safety of the palace guards.
Martinez walked down the hallway. It was narrow and dimly lit. He could see doorways on each side, all closed except for the last one on the right, which was slightly ajar. A sliver of light peaked into the dingy hall. He pushed gently on the door; standing at the window drawing the curtains was Francesca. She looked beautiful with her dark hair and full red lips. The last light from the window as she closed out the sunlight gave her an angelic glow. He had missed her, more than he realised. Thoughts of Derai still came to him when he thought of how he felt about Francesca, yet the guilt was beginning to abate.
Francesca turned and sat on a small chair by the desk. Martinez pulled up a stool next to her, closing the space between them to ensure no one could overhear. The walls were timber not stone and anyone could eavesdrop.
'The King has called a feast. I have a very uneasy feeling about the motives.' Martinez began to explain. He then saw the look on Francesca’s face and remembered she had asked to see him. 'I am sorry—you wanted to see me—you should start with your news.'
'I have been having recurring visions; they are becoming increasingly urgent in nature. I believe there are some major threats at work. This feast may be the culmination of them.' Francesca spoke gravely, the creases of her brow deepened.
'What can we do? I have tried speaking with Saul. I have tried to get Jezebel away from him but he will not even see me.'
'There is not a lot we can do, except,’ she hesitated now. ‘I think we may need to support David against Saul soon. I believe with the way Saul has been ranting about David lately, his life may be in danger. My visions have shown David running from Saul’s soldiers. Marrying another woman not of these lands and much more. I cannot really fully explain everything at this time; however David is very important to the future of the Israeli nation. He must be protected.' Francesca paused to allow what she was saying to settle on Martinez. She was surprised he had not rushed to interrupt her. Instead he was silent for a time.
'You want me to turn from the King; to align myself with David? I cannot do that. Saul is my brother. He is God’s appointed King, the father of one of my nephews whom I count as one of my closest friends.' Martinez’s face showed his anguish.
'You need not pick sides. Just be prepared to protect David, even if you have to be covert in the process.'
****
David took his seat next to Jonathan at the King’s table, as everyone took their places, the King and Martinez at one end, David and Jonathan at the other. The distance was not missed by Jonathan, who raised an eyebrow to Martinez as they sat.
The table was laid out with fine food and wine. No one really knew what the event held. David was not asked to play, no announcements of babies, war or marriages... What could the feast have been called for?
Martinez watched the King closely as he sat solemnly at the head of the long table, Jezebel at his side, whispering into his ear, as his mood grew darker. The dancers finished their performance; the servants cleared the table and offered more wine, which the King drank excessively. Jonathan and David chatted innocently at their end, laughing as they recalled a hunting story. David had thrown his spear so hard at a lion that he had lost his balance and almost tipped himself off a ridgeline down into the ravine below. As they laughed like children, Saul grew darker and darker. No one noticed except Martinez who was growing increasingly fearful of the King’s mood. He was only moments from trying to gain Saul’s attention when it was too late. Saul rose from his seat and in one fluid motion took up his spear, throwing it towards David. It was only David’s quick reaction at the sudden intake of breath from many at the table which saved him. The spear was now jutting out of the cushion where David had been sitting only moments before. All eyes were fixed on the still quivering shaft.
'You have been talking about me and laughing at me all evening. Your manner is offensive.'
David could see in Saul’s face that there was no use trying to explain what they had been talking about. There was going to be no reasoning with him.
'If my manner has offended you my lord, please accept my apology.' It was all David could do; he prayed it was enough to subdue Saul. Deep down he knew this moment was a precursor. His time in the King’s palace was short, the rumours of his mood towards David had been proven true.
Saul took a deep breath. 'Get out of my sight, now!' was all he could say. He was shaking with rage, uncontrollable rage. He knew if he did not get David out of the room soon, he would order his death there and then. He could see himself as if he were floating above his body. His face was red, his expression furious. In the back of his mind—he knew he was not being rational—he was going mad.
David rose, bowed and left the dining hall to the amazed and bewildered looks of all those present. Jonathan looked on, open-mouthed. He started to speak but Martinez gave him a look indicating that would be unwise. The rumours would be rife before dawn.
David strode to his apartments. He was numb with shock. As he entered his rooms, Miriam saw his pale face. 'What is it David? What is wrong?'
She moved to him taking his hand in hers, as he sat heavily on the first flat surface he could find. Fortunately, the stool at his writing desk was right there in the entry hall as his legs failed him. He could not speak; he loved Saul. The King had given him his chance to travel, had supported him when he said he should fight the giant. He believed in him and trusted him. What had gone wrong?
'The King, your father tried to kill me in the dining room tonight. He threw his spear where I sat; it missed me by less than a heartbeat. What have I done to call down his wrath? God is with me I know it to be so, yet the King does not trust me.' He was staring into his hands now.
'Saul loves you David. There must be something else behind this. Give it time. We must get to the bottom of it.' Miriam’s eyes were fearful. David stroked her face, wiping the tears that were forming and beginning to run down her cheek.
'I am sorry my love, Saul does not love me today and he will not calm down tomorrow.’ He was beginning to find clarity. ‘Saul will need to act on what has happened or lose support from all the officers and officials. They will not quickly forget what they witnessed tonight. It has gone too far now.’
'No David, please do not run, Saul has resources, people everywhere, he will track you down and have you killed.' She pleaded.
'I am dead if I stay!'
He explained his plan of escape to Miriam who sat expressionless as he went over the details a number of times.
'I will come for you as soon as I can.' David pulled down the covers on their bed, throwing the cushions randomly to the floor. He slowly went around the room, blowing out all but one candle on his bedside. Climbing into bed, he beckoned Miriam to him. They lay together without speaking for some time, before they shared their last passionate union.
The soldiers came at dawn, bursting down the door to David’s apartment. The splinters flew in all directions, resting on the floor, followed by a deadly silence. Miriam had been sitting in her living area, sipping a clay goblet of juice which broke as it hit the floor, shattering the eerie mood.
'Where is your husband?' ordered the captain of the guard. Miriam was too shocked to respond. Ignoring her, the captain headed into the sleeping quarters. The captain of the guards saw David in the bed under the covers and jabbed his spear into his body. There was no reaction. The guards pulled back the covers to find only cushions. The guards stormed back to the living area where Miriam had now composed herself. She defiantly held her chin high as they approached. She may be a member of the royal family, however women held no authority in Israel. The captain did not bestow any respect on her as he
harshly questioned her.
'Where is your husband woman? The King will not be pleased if you have aided him in escape.'
'I have no idea where he is,' she responded. To her great emotional pain it was entirely true. She knew she would not see her husband again. The unborn child in her belly would not know his father. She dared not tell the King her news for fear of retribution, his utter hatred of David clear now.
It was only a short time before both Jonathan and Martinez came to see Miriam. Jonathan embraced his half-sister and held her as she wept; she had not stopped since the guards had left.
'Where did David go? Did he say what he planned to do?' The questions from Martinez were coming thick and fast.
'He was not afraid just upset. He did not tell me all his plans, just how he planned to escape. He did not want to put me in a position to have to lie to anyone. He told me he would return for me when he could.' As the words left her lips Miriam knew that was unlikely. 'What can you do to help him?' she pleaded.
'We cannot be seen to aid David or we might be considered to be plotting against the King.' Miriam went to protest, but Martinez raised his hand. 'Hear me out Miriam, we cannot be seen, however that does not mean we cannot help. David is smart and resourceful; all he needs is a few eyes and ears. We have friends who are supportive of David. He will be assisted as long as he does not do anything to hurt the King or the nation’s best interests. Neither Jonathan nor myself will do anything to harm either.'
The sigh of relief from Miriam was audible. Jonathan smiled, hugged his sister again. 'Trust us, David will be fine.'
'Jonathan, I am with child, Saul will kill the child at birth. What can I do?' Jonathan thought for a moment.
'How far along are you? You are not showing at all.’
‘In my first cycle. I had not even had the chance to tell David and I did not want to once I knew his plans. He might have stayed and risked his life to be with us.'
