Unspoken_Bathsheba

by Francine Rivers

  Lord, I thought I could live my life and be happy without You. I was wrong, so terribly wrong. Forgive me.

  And God did.

  Everyone knew David loved her, for he treated her with the honor of a first wife. He didn’t seem to notice or care about the problems his partiality caused inside the palace. Men and women alike feared Bathsheba’s influence and vied for David’s attention. David was proud of all his sons, especially Absalom, but the king seemed to have a special affinity for Solomon, who shared his intense love for God. And Bathsheba knew that affinity was a danger. She remained watchful.

  God’s blessings continued to rain down on Bathsheba, and she bore David a third son, Shimea; a fourth, Shobab; and a fifth, Nathan. David’s other wives treated her with grudging honor, for no one wanted to share the same fate as Michal, David’s first wife, who was cloistered and given charge over her brother’s children, doomed never to have children of her own.

  Yet, some of the women found their own revenge. Ahinoam and Maacah planted seeds of suspicion and dissension in their sons. They nurtured the young men’s pride and arrogance. They fanned the fires of their ambition, and they failed to instruct their sons in the Law.

  Of all those around her, there were only a select few Bathsheba trusted: David, Abigail, her handmaiden, and the prophet Nathan, after whom she had named her fifth son. The prophet had become her friend as well as her counselor.

  Caught up in the duties of raising four sons, she had no time for hollow flattery and less time to worry over the manipulations of the other women in the palace. Or of the antics of David’s other offspring. Her duty was clear: to raise up her sons to be men of God. She had no power over David and what he did, and she grieved when she saw him shirk his kingly responsibilities. Each year, he seemed to delegate more of his duties to others: her grandfather, Ahithophel; his commander, Joab; his eldest sons, Amnon and Absalom. He spent more and more time writing beautiful songs of praise and worship, pouring his heart out before the Lord, and making plans to build a magnificent temple for the Lord. She knew all these things were good, but what of Israel? What of the people who needed him? What of those who looked to him to lead?

  David failed to see the gathering storm.

  The prophet Nathan had told her of the cursing to come. She took the word of the Lord to heart and was watchful of what was happening around her. One sin set others in motion. The first stone had tumbled years ago, and an avalanche was coming. She kept her sons close—teaching them about God as she walked with them, teaching them as she sat with them. She tucked them into bed with stories of Creation, the Flood, the patriarchs, the Egyptian enslavement and God’s deliverance from it. “Remember the Lord” was her litany.

  She knew her sons would face the brunt of the prejudice against her. When they asked painful questions, she answered with the devastating truth. “Yes, your father and I committed adultery. Yes, men died because of me.” She had compromised once; she couldn’t afford to compromise again. She took every opportunity to speak to her sons of repentance and responsibility, of consequences set in motion when one gives in to sin, of the power of the Lord to uphold the righteous. And she told them of the Lord’s great mercy and lovingkindness toward her.

  “Whenever you sin—for sin you will—you must repent. You must turn your back on evil and seek God’s face. If you do that, God will forgive you.”

  “And God will make it right,” Solomon said.

  She smiled sadly. “He will forgive you, but he won’t remove the consequences.”

  “Why not?”

  “We must learn to obey.”

  When Nathan sent word that he wanted to instruct her sons in the Law of the Lord, she seized the opportunity with thanksgiving and sent them off with instructions: “Listen with your hearts, my sons.” Once again, God had reached down. And this time He was lifting her sons from a palace of intrigue and setting them down beside His chosen prophet.

  Shouting and screaming reverberated throughout the palace as news spread that Amnon, David’s eldest son and heir to the throne, had raped his half sister, Tamar. David tore his robe, for he realized he’d believed the tale his son had concocted to gain permission for the girl to attend him in his private chamber. David had sent Tamar to Amnon, never suspecting the young man had improper intentions toward her.

  Now Maacah, Tamar’s mother, was screaming at him for justice, demanding that Amnon be punished for his crime. How could David agree, when the punishment for rape was death? Could he execute his own son, his heir? When Tamar had cried out in the streets, her brother Absalom had silenced her.

  David reminded Maacah of that now. “Woman, if Absalom isn’t demanding his brother’s blood, why should you? He’s taken our daughter into his house and told her to say no more of the matter.”

  “He’s waiting for you to do something!”

  “And would you be so quick to demand justice if it were your son who sinned?”

  “My son would never take a woman in sin!” Maacah wept hysterically. “This is your fault! It started with your taking that woman!” She could not be silenced. “Your brother’s son Jonadab suggested the plan to Amnon, and you sent my daughter to Amnon! You sent her, and now she’s ruined! What will become of Tamar now? Amnon’s sin is on your head!”

  David wept because he knew she was right.

  Those who wanted David to prosper advised him to follow the Law, but David didn’t listen.

  “How can you ask me to stone my own son? Did I not sin when I took Bathsheba into the palace? Did I not sin when I murdered Uriah? God showed mercy upon me!”

  “You repented, my lord the king. Amnon—”

  “How can I show less mercy to Amnon, my own flesh and blood?”

  “My lord the king . . .”

  “I will not pass judgment upon another, when I myself have sinned so grievously. I forgive him and demand that you do likewise!”

  Bathsheba covered her face and wept in the privacy of her chamber.

  What could a son learn from a father who stole another man’s wife and murdered her husband—what else but to believe he could do as he pleased? He had learned to take what he wanted when he wanted it, without counting the cost to anyone.

  Oh, God, thus does my sin come to rest again upon me! If not for Your love and mercy, how could I bear to stand and witness what my sins have caused?

  Bathsheba mourned for Tamar. She mourned for Maacah, who was inconsolable and embittered. She mourned for Amnon because she knew God would judge him for what he had done. And in the midst of her grief, she felt the accusing glances, heard the whispers. She knew what people were thinking. What you did all those years ago is the cause of our misery now!

  Absalom’s silence made her tremble, for he was no less arrogant than Amnon. In fact, he was even more proud. He’d been praised for his looks and petted since he was a little boy. The older he grew, the more he strutted like a peacock. Would a man like that forgive the rape of his beautiful sister?

  Solomon noticed her distress. “What do you fear, Mother?”

  “I fear what happens when sin is overlooked.” When the sentence for an evil deed isn’t executed quickly, the hearts of men are given fully to evil.

  Months passed, and nothing happened. David considered the matter resolved and never spoke of it. Bathsheba continued to watch. She hoped David was right, but she continued to do all she could to guard her sons from corruption.

  A year passed, and another, as the weeds grew taller among the wheat.

  “Absalom invited me to his sheepshearing,” David told Bathsheba one evening as they took supper alone together. “He’s invited all his brothers.”

  Though alarmed, she kept silent about her misgivings. Absalom had not invited her four sons, but she was relieved he hadn’t. Absalom hated her because David preferred her over his mother. And he saw her sons as a threat, even though he was next in line as heir to the throne after Amnon.

  She poured more wine. “Are you going?”

>   He shook his head, caressing her fingers as he took the cup. “I’d rather stay here. Besides, why should I burden Absalom with the cost of my retinue? It’s better for him if I remain in the palace. The young men will have their fun without me. Amnon will be going as my representative.”

  She shuddered. “I’m glad my sons won’t be going.”

  “Why aren’t they?”

  “They weren’t invited.”

  David frowned and thought for a moment. Then he shrugged. “Perhaps Absalom didn’t think they’d be interested in such festivities, since they spend so much time with Nathan.”

  A few days later, Bathsheba was startled by the sound of screaming and wailing. She ran from her room, terrified that something had happened to David. Solomon intercepted her, his face pale, his eyes wide with shock and fear. “A messenger just came and said that Absalom has struck down all the brothers who attended the sheepshearing. Not one of them remains!”

  She went cold, her mind racing. If Absalom had dared such a thing, she knew what he would dare next. “Find your brothers and go to your father. Stay at his side!”

  Absalom was after the throne, and the only way he could take it would be to wage war against David.

  The palace was in an uproar, women screaming and wailing, men standing about in torn garments while David lay prostrate and weeping upon the floor.

  More news arrived. Only Amnon was dead. One by one, David’s sons rode home on their donkeys, repeating the story of how David’s heir had been merry with wine when Absalom set his men upon him, watching in glee as his brother was stabbed repeatedly until dead.

  David gathered men to go after Absalom, but his son fled to Geshur and took refuge in the home of his mother’s father, King Talmai.

  Bathsheba often thought about what had happened at the sheepshearing. She tried to think as her grandfather would. There were three reasons why Absalom would murder Amnon: to avenge his sister, to openly defy his father, and to declare himself heir to the throne of Israel. David’s remaining sons were now stricken with fear of Absalom. They knew he was ruthless in his quest for vengeance and power.

  Would Absalom have killed David if he had gone to the sheepshearing? Surely a son would stop short of murdering his own father!

  David talked continually about going out against him. He talked and talked . . . but did nothing.

  Three years passed. Reconciled to Amnon’s death, David dismissed the notion of war, for his spies reported that Absalom had not gathered an army around him in Geshur. David concluded that Amnon’s murder had been an act of revenge over Tamar, not a bid for the throne. Bathsheba knew David’s mind was still fixed upon Absalom. Her husband was torn by love for this wayward son and anger over the young man’s actions.

  “Your son waits to be forgiven,” Joab told the king. Bathsheba sensed that her husband was waiting for any excuse to welcome Absalom home again. Without an army and allies, he wouldn’t succeed in taking the crown from David, but Bathsheba still didn’t feel he was trustworthy. She said nothing against Absalom, of course, knowing anything she said would be misconstrued. What good would come of her speaking her mind when David still grieved over his absence and listened so eagerly for any news of him? No, all she could do was to make certain he knew he did have sons who sought God’s favor and would stand with their father against all enemies.

  Whenever David sent word he wanted to spend an evening with her, she made certain Solomon and his brothers joined them for a time. David always enjoyed talking with them, and she wanted him to see and take comfort in his only godly sons.

  The palace was changing.

  David ordered several houses built in an attempt to keep peace among his women. Ahinoam continued to mourn Amnon while Maacah pleaded Absalom’s cause so long and loud that David finally refused to see her anymore.

  Solomon and his brothers often spent their afternoons with Bathsheba. She loved to hear them talk over the things they were learning from Nathan. They were astute in other areas as well. They knew what was happening in Jerusalem while she, dwelling within the walls of the palace, knew so little. It was her sons who informed her that Absalom would soon be returning to Jerusalem.

  “Has your father pardoned him?”

  “Not exactly,” Solomon said. “I was in court the other day when a Tekoite widow came forward, claiming a clan wanted her to hand over her son who had killed his brother. She said if she did so, they would kill him as well and she would have no sons. Abba agreed to protect the heir. Then he realized the story was a ruse.”

  “A ruse?”

  “Joab put the words in her mouth.”

  Disturbed, Bathsheba stood and moved away. Joab again. Was Joab sending the king another message: Bring Absalom back or I stand with him against you?

  “My father would be wise to keep Absalom close so he can watch him,” Solomon said.

  “Yes, he would.” She looked back at him. “Speak with Nathan about this. See what he has to say!” She intended to pray that David would not give in to his volatile emotions again. Joab had manipulated him, but retaliation would serve no purpose.

  When David was told that Absalom was coming up the mountain to Jerusalem, he struck a blow against Joab. “Absalom may go to his own house, but he must never come into my presence.” David had slammed the door of reconciliation in his son’s face in order to put Joab in his place.

  When Bathsheba heard what David had done in anger, she grieved. How long before Absalom’s pride demanded retribution? And how many would die when he lashed out again? The word of the Lord given through Nathan so many years before stood: the sword would be a constant threat to David’s family.

  It took two years for the fire in Absalom’s heart to come out into the open.

  “Absalom set fire to Joab’s field,” Shobab told Bathsheba one afternoon as she talked with her growing sons.

  Solomon shook his head. “It’s only a matter of time now before Joab comes to Abba and pleads our brother’s case,” Solomon said grimly.

  “If your father reconciles with Absalom, it can only be good for the nation.” She wished for an end to familial hostilities. The breech with his eldest surviving son depressed David and divided the people. Many felt Absalom justified in killing Amnon because the king had not acted according to the Law in avenging the rape of Absalom’s sister. Others said David’s inaction was a sign of indecision, not mercy. An indecisive king was a weak king, open to the schemes and machinations of enemies, and David had enemies on all sides. Only God could protect him and keep him on the throne.

  “No good will come of this, Mother,” Solomon said. “If Absalom dared to set fire to Joab’s field, what more will he dare besides?”

  “Are you implying he will stand against the king?”

  “He’s too shrewd to be so open. And he needs allies. Joab won’t stand with him now. But you know better than I how proud Absalom is.”

  Shimea laughed. “I heard he weighs his hair every time he cuts it!”

  “His beauty has made him vain,” Bathsheba said quietly.

  “Everyone is charmed by his good looks, but he’s filled with deceit. Abba ordered him to his own house two years ago, and that command hasn’t changed. Two years is more than enough time to stoke the fires in Absalom’s belly.”

  Bathsheba searched for reasons to hope for peace. “Absalom is heir to the throne. He needs to be patient. He has nothing to gain by dividing a nation he will one day rule.”

  Solomon laughed without humor. “The only time I’ve seen my brother show patience was during the two years he plotted the murder of Amnon.”

  She rose. “We will speak no more of this now.” She couldn’t bear it. “Keep your eyes open and tell me what you see and hear.” She knew if Absalom ever challenged David and won, her life and the lives of her sons would be forfeit.

  Solomon bowed his head. Bending down, he kissed her cheek. He started to say something more, but she put her fingers over his lips. “Speak with the prophet Nath
an about your concerns,” she said. “Seek the counsel of the Lord.”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  She kissed him and each of her sons and watched them leave.

  Lord God, protect my sons. Let the sins of the past fall on my head and not on theirs.

  David heard Joab’s plea and allowed Absalom to come before him, but the kiss he bestowed upon his son was less in affection than official pardon. Soon after, Bathsheba heard that Absalom had taken to riding in a horse-drawn chariot with fifty men running before him as though he were already king. He rose early and went down to stand by the gate road, intercepting those who came to Jerusalem to have their cases heard before the king, telling them he was the only one who would listen and judge justly, and making promises only a king could fulfill.

  When he came before David and asked to go to Hebron to fulfill a vow he’d made, David let him go, too preoccupied with his own comforts and pleasure to sense Absalom’s true motive.

  Absalom left Jerusalem with two hundred invited guests and declared himself king in Hebron. “All Israel has joined Absalom in a conspiracy against you,” David was told by messengers.

  And now Absalom was on his way to Jerusalem, with an army, to take the throne from his father.

  Women and servants scrambled around the palace, gathering what they would need for a journey. David had given orders that his household was to leave Jerusalem before Absalom could arrive with his army. Only ten concubines would stay behind and keep the palace in order.

  Bathsheba kept her sons close by her side as David led them out with all his people after him. As they stopped on the outskirts of the city, six hundred men joined forces with them, foreigners who had come to see the king. David told them they should leave, that this wasn’t their battle. Bathsheba was relieved when they swore allegiance to him and remained. David would need all the men he could muster if they were to survive.