Daughter of the King

by Faucheux, Sharon; Havel, Carlene;

  When her shaky legs regained the strength to walk, Michal crept back into bed. She put her hand lightly over her husband’s mouth and whispered into his ear, “David, wake up.”

  He kissed her hand before gently moving it from his mouth.

  “There are men outside,” she whispered. “Four of them. They are armed with javelins and swords.” When a moment of silence passed, she said, “My father means to kill you this time for sure. You have to get away.”

  David raised himself onto an elbow. Michal stroked the side of his face. “Please, leave now and hide until my father is himself again. I beg you to do this, David. For me, if not for yourself.”

  He eased out of bed and peered through the shutters. Meanwhile, Michal stepped out onto the balcony that overlooked their home’s inner courtyard. Seeing no one there, she returned to the bedroom and felt around on the floor to locate David’s sandals. She gathered his shoes as David pulled her to her feet and led her outside.

  Michal and David crept silently down the stone steps into the courtyard. The air was heavy with mist and smelled crisp with new-fallen rain. Drifting clouds occasionally obscured the moon and stars.

  They slipped into the kitchen, past the hissing embers of the still-warm cooking fire. Michal’s hands trembled as she filled a leather pouch with food. “Where will you go this time?” she whispered. They were far enough from the men in the street to talk normally, but fear kept her voice quiet.

  David slipped on his sandals. “I don’t know. When I find a safe place, I’ll get word to Jonathan. You can trust your brother.”

  “Why don’t you kill my father and have done with this madness? You know you could do it.”

  “I could, but I won’t.” David pulled her into his arms and held her close to him. “We are not heathens, Michal. We are God’s people. I will never lift a weapon against our king, and I will defend him to the death against anyone who would do him harm.”

  “My father doesn’t deserve your loyalty.” Michal fought to hold back the tears she knew her husband would not wish to see at this moment.

  “My loyalty is to our God,” David whispered as he stroked her hair. “Your father is God’s anointed king.” He kissed her forehead. “I’ll go out the kitchen window.”

  Their house sat on the side of a hill, with the courtyard sloping downward to the kitchen. Beyond the kitchen, the terrain dropped away sharply into a deep, stream-carved valley. “After I get my footing, you can hand me the food bag and lock the shutters behind me,” David whispered.

  “How long will you be gone?” She turned her face up to his.

  “Too long.” In the dim light she could see his smile. He clasped her to him again. “Come with me, Michal.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll take good care of you. I promise I’ll protect you.”

  Michal wavered. She hated the thought of another separation, but could he run for his life and take care of her at the same time? Could she bear to watch her father’s men tear David apart, knowing her slowness was the cause of his capture? After a moment, she said, “I don’t have my sandals.”

  “You’re right, of course. Forests and deserts are not fit places for a princess.” He kissed her one last deep, searching kiss then slowly released her. “Don’t give up on me,” he whispered into her hair. Then he turned and leapt lightly out the window.

  “God be with you, my husband,” she breathed. Michal struggled against the impulse to follow David. It would only take an instant to run and get her shoes. But he would move faster and hide better without her.

  As she walked stealthily back to her bedroom, Michal wished there was something she could do to make David’s escape successful. If only she had Jonathan’s military skills. She could see the shapes of objects in the courtyard now, which meant dawn would soon break. David needed time to make his way down the steep cliff behind their house. The men must not see her husband before he reached the cover of the trees at the bottom of the valley. But what could she do?

  Going back to bed was futile. Michal was far too upset to sleep. She peered through the slats of the shutters again. The brutish men were still in sight, lounging against the front of the house across the street, no doubt waiting for dawn. Oh, to be a skilled archer! She imagined the pleasure of launching four swift arrows from her upstairs window, striking down the king’s men before they had a chance to pursue her beloved husband.

  She glanced at the bed where not long ago she snuggled comfortably against David’s warmth. He slipped from the bed so carefully the blankets continued to hold his shape. She paced. Suddenly, something her mother said that afternoon floated back to her.

  “My husband Adriel has no respect for a man who is not a soldier,” Merab said, “and even less for a woman who could never become one. Every day he finds a new way to remind me how worthless I am.”

  Ahinoam patted Merab’s hand. “Women fight as many wars as our men do. Smiles, tears, and a clever wit can be more powerful than a javelin, my daughter. Hone your skills in the weapons of women, just as you see your brother Jonathan practice his archery. Do this, and you will win your share of desperate battles.”

  Michal tossed a pillow aside, wondering what defense a smile would be against an armed soldier. She longed for a sharp sword and the power to wield it. Looking into the street once more, she felt helpless. Daylight was approaching. Soon anyone who looked down from the vantage point of her kitchen would have a clear view of the valley below. She thought again of her mother’s words, and a fully formed plan sprang into her mind.

  Michal ran quietly down the stone steps, crossing the courtyard to the gardener’s shed. Behind a collection of broken clay pots, she found the wooden idol she sought. “Perfect,” she whispered. David’s nephew bought the idol at a festival, thinking it was a toy. Sarah had shrieked at the ugly figure with its oversized head sitting in her kitchen. To calm Sarah, Tirzah tossed the idol into the shed.

  Next, Michal ducked into the larder to locate the pouch where Sarah kept bitter herbs. As she reached the stone steps, she stumbled over an exposed root near her favorite Rose of Sharon bush and almost fell. At the last moment, she caught herself, looked around to make sure she was alone, and hurried to her bedroom. She snatched the throw rug from the floor. Fortunately, she chose black when she selected the bedroom rug from among the goatskins at the market.

  Michal twisted clothing into long rolls. She then stuffed the rolls under the bed’s blanket to make it appear David was still lying there. She put the wooden idol’s head on David’s pillow, facing the wall, cut a slit in the goatskin rug, and pulled a strip of black goat fur across the back of the idol’s head to give the appearance of hair. Finally, she tucked the blanket so only a thin strip of black wool was exposed.

  For anyone standing very near the bed, the deception would be obvious. From a distance, however, an observer might think the bed was occupied by a man who'd turned his face to the wall and pulled the covers halfway over his head. Michal then tossed a pile of linen rags on the floor next the bed, in the same spot where the curly black goatskin so recently protected her feet from the bare floor.

  She chose her best linen garment to wear that morning, and laid it near the bedroom’s entrance along with a pair of sandals. Next, she took care to enhance her face with her cosmetics. When all other preparations were made, she mixed the bitter herbs in her water jar.

  Michal held her nose and swallowed the herb and water mixture in one gulp. She spent a few minutes worrying that the foul-tasting herb concoction might not have its usual effect. Then, without warning, she felt her stomach twist violently. She gagged, and threw up on the pile of linen rags by the bed. Smiling, she rinsed her mouth with water, and spat on the rags. The night was chilly and damp, but the early morning air heated up rapidly. Michal knew the slightly unpleasant smell inside the bedroom would soon ripen into a first-class stench.

  The first light of dawn shot rosy streaks through the low clouds as Michal stepped onto the balcon
y wearing her favorite dress. She spotted Sarah crossing the courtyard, heading for the kitchen.

  “Good morning, Sarah,” Michal called brightly. “My dear husband has been ill all night. Please make a clear broth for his breakfast.”

  The surprised look on Sarah’s face pleased Michal. The room the old woman shared with Tirzah was closer to the kitchen than the other sleeping chambers. If light-sleeping Sarah was not awakened by this morning’s furtive activity, it was unlikely the gardener or other household members who slept in rooms encircling the courtyard were aware of David’s escape.

  Michal descended the stone steps from the balcony. She forced herself not to look toward the slight movement near the gated courtyard entrance. “Zebulon,” she called to the gardener as he emerged from his room. “Would you and Eli fetch some grapes and yogurt from the market as soon as possible? Our master is very sick this morning. Perhaps yogurt will settle his stomach, and you know how he loves grapes.”

  Zebulon was an ancient soldier who had no living family. David took him on as their gardener, even though the old man did not know a fig tree from a thistle bush. Zebulon scowled at the mention of the market.

  One more detail, Michal thought, and she would be ready for her unwelcome visitors. While Sarah would play her part best without knowing what was going on, Michal needed to enlist her handmaid’s complicity. “Tirzah,” she shouted from the center of the courtyard.

  Tirzah emerged from her room, rubbing her eyes. “Yes, my lady?” She ambled toward Michal. “Is something wrong?”

  Michal kept her back to the gate and used hand motions both to beckon Tirzah and to warn her to remain silent. As soon as they stood near each other, Michal spoke quickly and quietly. “Some men are here to take David. He’s gone, but they don’t know that. The longer we keep them from finding out he has left the house, the better chance he will have of making good his escape.” Michal grasped Tirzah’s arm. “No, don’t look toward the gate. The story will be that David is desperately ill. Your job is to pretend you’re scared to death you’ll catch what he has. We have to keep these men distracted in any possible way.”

  Michal continued, almost whispering. “Go as if to clean my bedroom. Watch. When the time is right, try to create fear about the seriousness of David’s illness. Let’s see how much courage these big, strong men have.”

  Tirzah nodded and hurried up the stone steps. All traces of sleepiness vanished from her round face. Michal lingered to pluck a few flowers, thanking God her handmaid had a fanciful imagination and would know what to do.

  The gardener Zebulon and his young helper Eli were ready to leave for the market. Eli carried a woven basket and a soft skin. Michal took silver from the leather pouch around her waist. “Buy lots of grapes, and only a little yogurt,” she instructed Zebulon. “And please return as quickly as you can.”

  Little Eli opened his mouth as if to question, but the gardener stopped him with his gruff, “Come, son.” Then Zebulon muttered, loudly enough for Michal to hear, “When you take orders from a woman, don’t expect them to make sense.”

  Michal followed them to the gate. “Bring us almonds as well, if you find them.”

  As soon as Zebulon and Eli disappeared down the street, four armed men rattled the iron gate at the first floor entrance into the courtyard.

  Michal opened her eyes wide and smiled. “Good morning, gentlemen. What brings you to my humble dwelling this fine morning?” She brought the fresh flowers she’d gathered to her nose and took a deep breath. “Do you not think these fresh blossoms are magnificent?”

  Two of the men returned Michal’s smile—and not solely in appreciation of the flowers, she thought. A grim-faced man spoke. “We are here under orders of our lord King Saul and his servant Doeg. We would see your husband, the Lord David, immediately.”

  “Do come inside then.” Michal let her gaze linger on the two men who'd smiled at her earlier. “I trust my father the king is well?” she asked as she led the men to a table that sat in the courtyard under the shade of a tall sycamore tree.

  The grim-faced man grunted a noncommittal response.

  “Good,” Michal continued. “Then my dear father has not come down with the same illness that overtook my husband, Lord David, last night. Would you honor this house by taking some refreshment? Some wine and cheese, perhaps? Or in a little while some grapes from the market?” She paused to let the men consider the idea of having something to eat and drink in cool comfort, then added brightly, “Perhaps you would prefer to see my poor, sick husband immediately and be on your way to other business?”

  The men looked at their leader expectantly. He licked his lips and hesitated.

  Suddenly the courtyard reverberated with Tirzah’s shrieks. She tore down the stone steps leading from the bedroom balcony. “He has the fever! Fish fever!” she screamed. At the bottom of the steps, Tirzah stumbled across the Rose of Sharon root and fell into the courtyard, exposing a generous expanse of shapely leg well above her ankle.

  Two men sprang to the hysterical Tirzah’s aid.

  “I will not return to that chamber,” Tirzah wailed. “My aunt’s master died from just such a fever. He ate a yellow speckled fish, exactly like the one our Lord David had last night, and in three days’ time he was dead.”

  “Nonsense, Tirzah,” Michal said, taking care to make her voice quiver.

  “And my poor aunt cleaned up after him. In another three days, she too was dead because she had been in his room and touched his bedclothes. I will not go back up there, my lady.” Tirzah lifted terror-filled eyes toward the upstairs bedroom. “Not even if you beat me senseless.”

  Michal opened her eyes as wide as she could, hoping to appear frightened. “Sarah is making my husband a breakfast of broth, Tirzah. You must serve it to him.”

  “You are his wife,” Tirzah spat angrily. “You serve our lord his breakfast. It is not worth my life to do so.”

  “I have guests to attend to.” Michal hoped the flimsiness of her excuse was obvious.

  “I will take Lord David his broth.” Everyone turned to see Sarah standing outside the kitchen, hands perched on her wide hips, disgust written on her lined face. She glared first at Tirzah, then at Michal. “If God in His wisdom chooses to strike this old woman dead for serving my master, then so be it.” With those words, she swept back into the kitchen.

  Michal tossed her head and smiled at the leader of the soldiers. “You must excuse my servant Sarah,” she said. “The woman is so old-fashioned. What may we serve you, gentlemen?”

  “Lord David is obviously not going anywhere while we sit in his courtyard,” the grim-faced man said. “There’s no reason to refuse all hospitality.”

  CHAPTER

  TEN

  “AND WHEN SAUL SENT MESSENGERS TO TAKE DAVID, SHE SAID, HE IS SICK. AND SAUL SENT THE MESSENGERS AGAIN TO SEE DAVID, SAYING, BRING HIM UP TO ME IN THE BED, THAT I MAY SLAY HIM.” I SAMUEL 19:14-15

  The men ate, drank, and talked at Michal’s table all morning. After taking the clear broth to David and Michal’s bedroom, the old woman sat on the bottom stone step, held her apron over her face, and sobbed.

  “Lord David would take no nourishment,” Sarah said as she passed the table where Michal and Tirzah busily poured more wine. “Look.” Sarah held out the full bowl of clear broth.

  It was nearly noon when Sarah emerged from the kitchen with a pot of steaming soup. “Perhaps my lord will eat now.”

  “Men take their strength from wine,” the grim-faced soldier announced. “I will give him a drink.” He grabbed the skin of wine from Tirzah’s hands. The women stood back as he took a meandering path to the stone staircase on unsteady legs. At the top of the stairs he turned and smiled. “I shall return soon, my friends.” With a wave of his hand, he disappeared into the bedroom.

  Michal glanced down at her almost-nonexistent midday shadow. She was grateful to have delayed these men in their mission to capture her husband. There had been plenty of time for David to get
away.

  The guard bolted from the upstairs bedroom. “On my grandfather’s bones!” he yelled. “What a stink hole.”

  The women exchanged glances as the man clattered down the stairs. “Come.” He motioned to his companions. “We must report this illness to our master Doeg.”

  “Shall we not take Lord David with us?” The shortest fellow emptied his cup of wine.

  “No.” The man’s speech was no longer slurred. “No. Lord David, he cannot get out of bed. He burns with fever.”

  Michal was astonished at the guard’s words. He spoke as if he'd investigated the situation in her bedroom. Yet in doing so, he would have discovered the dummy. She immediately spoke up. “Wise decision, sir. You are quite right that my husband is too weak and feverish to get out of bed.” Sarah and Tirzah nodded their heads in solemn agreement.

  The moment the men were out of sight, Michal sank to the ground, limp with relief. Sarah brought clean jars from the kitchen. “I made a vow before Tirzah was born never to touch wine myself,” she said, “but it would be an honor to pour a toast to your gallantry, ladies.”

  “What made him think the piece of wood was Lord David?” Tirzah asked.

  “The drinking probably helped,” Michal said. “I’m more inclined to believe he was embarrassed to admit he ran out of the room as soon as the smell assaulted his nose. I think he just repeated what I said without bothering to confirm it.”

  “The king will be angry when this hoax is discovered,” Tirzah observed as she and Michal sipped wine.

  “True enough,” Sarah agreed. “But you two may have saved Lord David’s life by your wit this morning.”

  Michal nibbled a bite of cheese. “You did your part, too, Sarah. Those were convincing sobs when you came back from delivering breakfast.”

  “I was laughing,” Sarah admitted. “When I saw the idol in the bed, I realized at last what was going on. The thought of you two little girls holding those four men hostage with your theatrics overcame me with amusement.”