It began with that familiar tingle as the warm presence descended, melting away his anxiety as quickly as the morning sun dissipates a summer mist. His fingers danced lightly over the strings. Lyrical notes merged together. David closed his eyes, envisioning the links of an intricate golden chain circling around the still figure of the king and resting lightly on his shoulders.
Saul let out a low, plaintive moan. His shoulders bunched as he pressed the palms of his hands against his face. David kept playing, weaving the spell, using the music to push through the king’s pain and drive back the oppressive darkness. With shaking hands, Saul reached for the cup and emptied it. He squeezed his palms back over his eyes and mumbled some indistinguishable words.
David strummed more softly, trying to hear the king. He was able to make out a simple plea: “Please. Please.” It sounded like someone at the edge of an abyss, knowing that a push will send him hurtling down. It was the appeal of a broken man who has lost hope. Unexpected tears formed at the corners of David’s eyes. He wondered if this was what it felt like to love a father, if this was what he should feel for Jesse. He shoved the thought aside.
Help me, O Lord! he whispered. As he fingered an elaborate musical phrase, it came to him: If King Saul can’t pray for himself, I will pray for him.
The petition simply arose out of him.
God, hear my cry for help,
listen to my prayer!
From the ends of the earth, I call to You,
with sinking heart.
To the rock too high for me,
lead me!
For You are my refuge,
a strong tower against the enemy.48
He sang the words for Saul.
Let me stay in Your presence for ever,
taking refuge in the shadow of Your wings.
You, God, accept my vows,
You grant me the heritage of those who fear Your name.49
Now he found himself singing his own plea for the shattered warrior sitting in front of him.
Let the king live on and on,
prolong his years, generation on generation.
May he sit enthroned in God’s presence for ever!
Assign Your Love and Faithfulness to guard him!
So shall he always sing of Your name,
Fulfilling vows he has taken, day after day.50
When David was finished, Saul lay down on the couch without saying a word. David picked up a cloak that was lying on the floor, draped it carefully over the king, and walked toward the door. Before he could raise his hand to knock, Saul’s weak voice interrupted him. “David … you have the king’s thanks.” It was the voice of an old man drained of all strength.
The next weeks followed an almost identical pattern: after spending the day training with Jonathan and eating with the fighting men, and the evening working on his music in his bedroom, David would go to sleep and more often than not be awakened to ease the king’s distress. During the daytime, whenever the king saw him, he would stare at David in silence, fatigue showing in dark smudges beneath haunted eyes.
Saul only rarely engaged David in conversation, but Saul’s appreciation was evident in the way his face softened when he caught sight of David. Occasionally, David could detect gratitude battling with humiliation, and several times he had felt a prickle on his back and turned to catch the king staring at him with cold appraisal. This did not alter David’s feelings of sympathy. Though Saul was no longer the heroic warrior he’d daydreamed about in the Bethlehem hills, David had begun feeling a fierce protectiveness for this worn-out old man burdened by suspicion and by terrors that were destroying him.
The king’s fits rose and fell like the waxing and waning of the moon, but slowly their frequency abated. When they did return, however, it was with redoubled intensity. They seemed to withdraw only to gather strength and resurface with greater malevolence. After another drawn-out and exhausting episode, David was adjusting the kinnor’s strap around his neck, preparing to leave, when the king grabbed his forearm. It was so unexpected, David nearly tripped.
Saul’s voice was choked with emotion. “If it weren’t for you, I think I would have lost my …” He stared away into the cold darkness, then tightened his hold on David’s arm. Though the voice was weak, the grip was not. “David, you have become like a son to me—”
Warmth flooded through David. It was pride and gratitude that somehow comingled with a profound sense of unworthiness. But as soon as the words registered, Saul’s body went rigid. His fingers clamped down so tightly that David’s arm began to tingle, the thick royal ring feeling as though it were bruising his bone. The temperature in the room dropped, and David felt the old, familiar dread begin creeping up behind him, tracing the tip of a cold knife up the middle of his back.
“—but I’m glad you are not,” the king continued. His voice bore a hint of malice that had not been there earlier. His bloodshot eyes, now hooded and mistrustful, shifted around the room. “If you were, where would that leave Jonathan?” Saul leaned forward, staring at him with a wild and sudden ferocity. “You see my point, don’t you?”
“Yes, my king,” David managed to say.
Saul’s fingers were embedded in David’s flesh as he pulled David toward him. “Not so long ago, Samuel said something that has made me wonder.”
The back of David’s neck grew clammy with fear.
“He prophesied that my throne had been turned over to another.” The king was so close that when he spoke, saliva sprayed David’s cheek. Impossibly, the angles of Saul’s face were sharpening and elongating, his jaw sliding forward grotesquely. David shivered, expecting at any moment to see a thin, red tongue flick out of the king’s narrowing lips.
“Are you my rival?” Saul’s eyes glowed with a menacing light, but he was staring at David with a warmth that sickened him. The question was as soft and gentle as a cat’s purr.
“No! Never, my king. You are the anointed of the Lord, and I am your faithful servant.” The words leaped out of David without conscious thought.
Though he did not release David’s arm, the tension eased from Saul’s face. He blinked as if waking from a dream. “Promise me, David. I want you to promise me.” The note of entreaty in the king’s voice was distressing.
David found himself kneeling before Israel’s once-mighty leader. Pity and tenderness washed over him as he saw the fear, the inadequacy, the desperation and confusion in those weary eyes. “I give you my word, O king. As long as you live, you have nothing to fear from me, your humble servant.” He bent down and kissed the ring.
“You may go … my son,” Saul whispered, loosening his hold to rest his hand on David’s head. “Were that there were hundreds more like you in my kingdom.”
During these weeks at Saul’s palace, David did not speak with Michal. The prying eyes of the courtiers made that impossible. She sent him notes through Tirzah, her maidservant. Mostly they expressed frustration at the vigilance of those surrounding her, especially the guards, whom she believed had received special instructions to watch over her.
“I don’t think it is Father,” she wrote in one of her notes. “He is too sick and too tired to pay much attention to anything, especially to what his youngest daughter may be doing. He can barely keep his focus on the affairs of the nation. But, thanks be to God, your music seems to be helping him a great deal. It is obvious that he is improving.”
In another note, she wrote, “Father is much better. Your music is magic. Mother says so. She is convinced that the gods are using you to drive away the evil spirits that are afflicting him. She prays to them every night. The teraphim were given to her by her mother as a wedding present and are some of the most powerful Canaanite gods. When I am married, I will be given the largest one. I pray for Father, of course, but even more for you.” Michal concluded by warning him that it was too dangerous to send a wr
itten response, but Tirzah could be trusted with any verbal messages.
He was actually relieved that he could not write. Despite his strong physical attraction to Michal, he was confused. She was easily the most beautiful and beguiling creature he had ever met. His longing to hold her was sometimes so intense that it hurt. He knew she was ready for marriage, but he was unsure if he was. Her feelings for him were clear. It was what he felt in return that troubled him. Everything had changed so drastically, and so quickly, that he was still trying to adjust to his new circumstances and responsibilities. He needed time to find his way; then maybe he would know what he felt and what to tell her.
Since the notes were written on wood or leather, he burned them in the fire pit, but despite the risk, there was one he kept in the pouch with his rounded stones. It had been written in great hurry: “I wish you were holding me again. I want to be near you. I can only imagine that I am. For now that will have to do. But not for long.” Whenever he traced his fingers over the letters, his pulse began to pound.
The following day, her note confirmed what he had suspected: “I found out who was behind the order. It was Adriel! I don’t know how, but he found out about us. Either that or he merely suspects the truth. He is a sneaking, loathsome, sharp-nosed lizard. I told him that if word got to Father, I would make his life an absolute misery—forever. I hate him!”
A few days later, he found a note folded beneath his pot of goat stew. “Tirzah was stopped by Sisha. Adriel must have told him about us, but she is sure Father has not been informed. I wake up every morning with my heart in my throat. In case I have not made it clear by now—I love you.”
The next message came through an unexpected source. At breakfast, the courtyard was crammed with army officers. While he was eating with the trainers, David caught sight of the prince looking at him across the room over General Abner’s head. He gave David a troubling look and pointed with his chin toward the hall that bordered the palace’s central square. Jonathan pursed his lips emphatically, indicated that David should not speak until they were out of sight.
When they were positioned behind one of the corner columns, Jonathan grabbed the neck of David’s tunic, glaring at him. “I know about you and Michal,” he whispered, pulling David up to the tips of his toes.
David felt his saliva turn to acid with dread. Jonathan had twisted his tunic; David could barely breathe.
“What did you think you were doing? Did you really expect you could keep it secret?”
David had no idea how to respond. The tunic was like a noose, and he was beginning to see stars.
“Tell me, what were you thinking?”
David tried to speak but could not squeeze anything out.
Jonathan’s expression of rage melted into a mischievous grin. “By the bulls of Bashan!” he swore, releasing the tunic. “The look on your face was priceless.”
David bent over, taking a ragged breath.
“I was hoping to have you pleading for mercy. But I just couldn’t pull it off.” Jonathan shook his head ruefully. “I’m afraid I still have to master the art of deception.”
“I’m glad for my sake that you haven’t,” David rasped. “As it was, I thought my life was over.”
Jonathan embraced him, slapping him hard on the back. Then he pushed David away, his hands gripping his shoulders. “I’ll do better next time,” he said, looking down at him. “Still, I’ll never forget that open mouth. You looked like a beached catfish.”
He stepped back, clearing his throat as if preparing to deliver an oration. “I actually come with a message from my sister. Apparently, she—along with several others of the royal family—is smitten with you. She instructed me to tell you that she will miss you terribly and will pray for you every day. I promised her I would relay it with no emendations. She made me swear on my life, and—word to the wise—she does not take broken promises lightly.”
“Where is she going?” David asked. “Has your father found out? Is she in trouble?”
“Nothing like that,” Jonathan said. “You are the one leaving. And before you ask, you are not being banished either. My father has more important things on his mind these days than worrying about his armor bearer making eyes at his younger daughter.”
David stared at him in dismay.
“Remember the advice I gave him about moving aggressively against the Philistines? The comment that led to him splintering the spear over my head? Well, he decided to take my advice—belatedly. He is mustering the troops to launch an attack on Azekah in the valley of Elah. The goal is to crush them once and for all.” Jonathan looked cautiously around the pillar. “To be frank, I think the timing is off. The element of surprise is gone, but now that he has been miraculously healed”—he gave David an appreciative punch in the shoulder—“he is intent on action.”
Jonathan leaned over to speak into David’s ear. “I don’t want to go against him. I think he’s doing it to conciliate me. It’s his way of making amends.”
“So I’m going with the army!” David said with a thrill of excitement. “Finally I’ll have an opportunity to fight on behalf of the king!”
Jonathan looked at him regretfully. “I’m afraid not. Some of the soldiers have already arrived, and those from Bethlehem were in the first wave. Your brothers told their commander that your father’s condition has deteriorated, and he requested that you return to provide the help they will not be able to give him.”
Anger surged through David. He could sense conspiratorial cunning pushing him away from battle. But his response was tempered by a trickle of shame as he recalled his father’s drawn expression in the rear of the cart when he and the messenger raced past on their way to Saul’s palace. “I was not aware of his illness,” he admitted, shading the truth a little. “What is the matter?”
“I think they said something about an injured hip.” Jonathan put an arm around his shoulder. “I am disappointed as well. I was looking forward to going to battle together. All the instructors agree: you are going to be an exceptional armor bearer.” He shook his head in frustration. “I had already made Father promise that you could serve with me on this campaign. But it is the rule of the army that vital family obligations, especially when one parent is dead, take precedence over military service. The only exception is when the nation is in extreme danger. That has been true since the time of Moses.”
David thought about lodging a formal protest but knew it would be rejected. This was not a defensive war; his father was apparently very sick; Jahra was gone, as were David’s oldest brothers; and who knew where the other three were scattered. They couldn’t be trusted with the flocks anyway. As the youngest son, even though he had been selected by the king as his armor bearer, he had no recourse. He would have to return to Bethlehem.
“Commander Manoah spoke to me before we ate,” Jonathan said. “He knows your father and said that you should leave as soon as possible. Your horse is packed and ready to go.” Jonathan let go of David’s shoulder. “Next time, you and I are going to wreak havoc on those uncircumcised dogs,” he promised with a tight grip on David’s forearm. “It will be the stuff of legends.”
“Next time,” David agreed. He walked away, and with each step his heart sank lower. Before opening the door to his chamber, he stopped and looked back. Jonathan had not moved. “Tell Michal thanks for her prayers.” The prince’s broad grin made David feel like a fool. “I will return as soon as I can.” He swung open the door and stepped inside quickly to hide the blush on his face.
He was still fuming at Eliab when he mounted his mare. She reared and almost bucked him off when he gave her more of his heel than necessary. Though he released the pressure of his knees, they were still in a half gallop as they sped through the gate. He was taking the bend heading south toward Jebus and Bethlehem when he heard a voice and racing hoofbeats behind him. David clicked his tongue and pulled back on the reins, g
uiding his horse to the side of the road. He prayed that Jonathan had changed his plans.
Instead of the king’s messenger, it was Michal who rode around the bend. Her horse was in full gallop. Her green gown and scarf were billowing like a banner about her, accentuating her black hair and dark eyes. Expertly the princess guided her horse next to David’s, pressing its flank against his leg. She threw her arms around him, pressing her head into his chest.
It was delicious to have this enticing young woman drawn to him. The combination of her beauty and her attraction to him was intoxicating. “What are you doing here?” he asked. “Won’t the guards tell your father that you’ve left town?”
“He doesn’t know, and he won’t, I can assure you,” she said, smiling. “I told them that he had sent me to give you a special message. I explained that since everyone was getting ready for the battle, I had volunteered.” She arched her eyebrows coyly, pleased with the lie.
“Well, it seems that you have mastered the art of deception,” he said. “You should give your brother some pointers.”
She looked at him with a question in her eyes, then smiled again. “You’re right. It is a skill one needs in order to thrive in the royal court. I’ve told Jonathan that he will find it necessary when he takes over from Father.” She waved her hand impatiently. “Anyway, I have only a moment. That is not what I came to say.”
Michal stopped, her cheeks growing red. “I did not know when I’d see you again, so I just had to come.” She leaned toward him, lifting her face to his. Impulsively, he bent toward her and pressed his mouth against hers. He felt the heat rush up his legs and into his chest.
“I love you,” she murmured after several long moments. His insides tightened, and his mind went blank. She waited for the briefest moment, gave him a searching look, then spun her horse and raced back toward Gibeah.
Later that morning, as David rode into Bethlehem, he tried to make out Jahra’s grave. A little farther along, he located it underneath the almond tree. A fresh spray of wildflowers lay on top, and several small memorial stones had been placed there. He did not trust himself to get off his horse, so he continued into town.
Warrior Poet Page 23
