Michal strolled in Abner’s pleasant garden, grieving for her now-lost family. She allowed her thoughts of David to go on without interruption. She prayed to have a chance to see him, maybe even talk to him. Would he be pleased to see her, or angry that he had been deceived?
Though Michal never stopped thinking of herself as David’s wife, she did not dare to hope he would feel the same way. She harbored a fleeting fantasy he might take her into his service in some capacity, but dismissed the thought immediately. The only skill she possessed was the ability to spin, dye, and knit yarn. What would that be to a powerful man, now a king?
Although David was a mighty man of war, Michal knew only his tender side. She could not bring herself to believe he truly wanted to kill her. Still, even kings could not always do as they wished. Regardless of what commoners might believe, the daughter of the king realized a ruler frequently made political concessions. As a child, she was aware her father sometimes formed distasteful alliances. King Saul often made decisions he regretted under the influence of the men who surrounded, flattered, and advised him. Many acts were carried out not for their own value, but solely for the impression they made on the king’s subjects or his enemies.
After three days, Michal learned that Abner was able to sit up and take a little nourishment. That same afternoon a servant girl brought word that Lord Abner expected her to be ready to leave for Hebron at dawn the following day.
That evening, Michal slept fitfully for a while before she gave up and rose from her bed. She put on a blue linen dress—one she had not worn in years. It was looser than she remembered, and slightly faded. Nevertheless, she hoped she would make a reasonable public appearance. She put on her best jewelry. Tirzah obtained some makeup from Rizpah. Michal used it sparingly before awakening Tirzah to prepare for the journey.
Michal sat in the flickering light of the oil lamp and waited to hear the first stirrings of Abner’s household. As was her habit, she prayed a morning prayer. She asked the Living God to allow her to speak to her husband long enough to explain the circumstances of her marriage to Phaltiel. Since there was no longer any reason to ask God’s favor on Merab, Michal prayed her sister’s child survived and was being cared for. She wept to think that she would never see Merab’s face again.
Her bittersweet recollections made Michal fling off the blue dress and change into the shabby tunic she wore when doing household duties in Phaltiel’s compound. She washed the makeup from her tear-stained face before putting her jewelry into a leather pouch. Her father was no longer king. What would be the point of representing herself as royalty?
In the courtyard, Michal and Tirzah waited near the exit gate. “You expect to take along your handmaid?” Abner rasped.
“Yes, my lord,” Michal replied calmly. “A lady cannot travel without a maid.”
“No.” He pointed at Tirzah. “Go inside at once.”
Tirzah hung her head and obeyed Abner’s order. Michal pulled the hood of her traveling cloak forward. She longed to draw on Tirzah’s strength for the unknown trials this day might hold. Nevertheless, she stepped on the stool a soldier placed on the ground, and mounted the horse whose reins another soldier held. The horse seemed much taller than the donkeys Michal customarily rode. She avoided looking down and tried to sit as straight as her uncle.
When the sun peeked over the hills around Bahurim, Michal noticed Abner’s face was ashen. She knew a less determined man would not attempt this trip. Although he looked like a cadaver, he made no reference to his health. Instead, the old soldier continued to command his men as always.
Captain Osh led the column forward. The soldiers followed him, two abreast, five pairs in front of Michal and Abner, and five pairs riding behind them. Michal rode in silence until the column left Bahurim. She checked the sun’s position and determined they were going south. That would be the general direction of Hebron, which she concluded must now be the capital city of Judea. She decided to attempt a conversation with Abner if only to ease the growing terror inside her.
“My lord uncle,” she began respectfully, “is my brother, King Ishbosheth, well?”
She thought perhaps Abner was ignoring her question, because there was no immediate response. After a long pause, her uncle turned his face in her direction.
“Ishbosheth is a fool. He isn’t fit to be king. If we don’t stop him, he will be the ruin of the nation.”
Such venomous words, so openly spoken, shocked Michal into silence. She pondered the purpose of her uncle’s visit to Judea. Clearly, Abner was not being sent to do business on behalf of King Ishbosheth. That meant he was undertaking an alliance with King David on his own initiative. No doubt Ishbosheth would consider such a move outright treason. Michal knew she would suffer the same punishment as her uncle if this treachery came to light. She rode along in silence, worrying about the reception they would receive at their destination.
“Greetings, brothers. What brings you to the land of Judea?” The youthfulness of the soldier at the border crossing took Michal by surprise.
“We come in peace,” Captain Osh said. “Lord Abner was instructed to fetch King David’s wife, Princess Michal. We have the lady with us. If you will allow us to pass, we will deliver her to your king at Hebron.”
Michal gazed at the mountainous landscape behind the Judean. Her traveling cloak hid much of her face, but did not prevent the soldier and his companions from casting curious glances in her direction. “Some of my men will accompany you, to assure your safe passage,” the fellow said. “Simon!”
An even younger man emerged from the brushy undergrowth. He was mounted on a fine war horse, carried a short sword, a bow, and a quiver of arrows. He was completely without armor. “Follow me,” he said confidently.
Simon led Abner’s party along a road into the mountains. A contingent of ten or twelve additional Judean soldiers followed them at a discreet distance.
“Bunch of undisciplined kids,” someone behind Michal muttered sourly.
“Young perhaps,” Abner commented, his eyes straight ahead. “But disciplined enough to beat us like a worn out drum each time we met them in battle.”
Michal was entranced by the lush beauty of the countryside. The people in the scattered farms along the way were smiling and cheerful. Their steps were lively. Children in colorful clothing fearlessly exchanged greetings with the soldiers. Homes were in good repair, surrounded by well-manicured gardens filled with vegetables and grains. Sturdy flocks of sheep grazed on lush hillsides. Michal couldn’t help but compare the spirited sights of Judea to the gaunt faces and drab colors she saw in Bahurim.
As the caravan drew ever nearer to Hebron, Michal could no longer push away the question of what David would do with her. Her body pulsed with a mixture of fear and delight. She was only a short distance from the man who had held her heart captive for more than half her life. She willed herself to concentrate on the delightful prospect she might glimpse David’s face, and refused to consider other dark possibilities.
The lead Judean soldier turned and shouted, “Not much further now. I’ll ride ahead and announce your arrival.” He whistled and flicked his reins, pressing his horse into a full gallop. Michal lost sight of him as he swung around a bend in the road, with the wind billowing in his loose tunic, and his dark hair flowing behind him.
Michal could hear a faint murmur of conversation from the Judean rear guard, but could not make out their words. The Israelites rode without speaking. The regular thud of the horses’ hooves on the packed dirt of the road and the occasional trill of birds were the only other sounds.
She stole a glance at Abner. He sat ramrod straight on the back of his horse. The pallor of his face and the firm set of his jaw were the only clues to the state of his health. Michal felt a rush of admiration for her uncle, and wondered once again why he felt compelled to make this journey.
As the group pressed on, Michal searched each bend in the road for signs they were approaching a center of population. She c
onsidered the possibility the Judean had misjudged the distance when she caught sight of a city through a gap in two hills. Rounding a sharp turn in the road, the soldiers ahead of Michal and Abner stopped. She looked past their backs to see a small group of Judeans on horseback facing them, blocking their passage.
Abner went to the head of his column to confer with the Judeans. Suddenly Michal recognized the handsome man in the center of the group. Even from a distance, and after the passage of years, she knew it was David himself riding the magnificent white stallion. Her heart pounded as her eyes fastened on her dear husband’s face. His ruddy complexion glowed bronze in the sunlight. When he fixed his deep brown eyes on Michal, she made no attempt to resist returning his gaze.
David left Abner talking and guided his horse through the ranks to where Michal waited. He was as she remembered him, though perhaps a little heavier, with the hint of character lines beginning to form at the corners of his beautiful eyes. Within a moment, he was so near she could have reached out and touched him. She thought her heart would burst with delight.
“Michal, is it really you?” he asked.
“My husband,” she whispered.
David took the reins of her horse in his hands. “Lord Abner, my brother Eliab will lead your party on to my house,” he said without taking his eyes from Michal’s face. “Michal, would you like to ride up into the hills where the red flowers are in bloom? There’s a little brook where we can sit and listen to the birds sing. It’s not as beautiful as the place where we used to go when we were first married, but I think you might like it. Will you go with me?”
There was so much Michal wanted to say to him, but a weak “Yes” was all that came from her lips.
“My lord.” Abner rode near David, his voice brimming with frustration. “We have traveled a long distance.”
“You can negotiate with my brother Eliab. He speaks for me.” David leaned forward and clapped Abner on the shoulder. “Tomorrow we will have a great feast for you and your men, to celebrate our pledge to fight each other no more. Right now”—he removed his hand from Abner and looked back at Michal—“I have other business. Surely you can understand.”
Without waiting for a response, David rode away, up and over a small hill, leading Michal’s horse behind him.
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
“MY BELOVED SPAKE, AND SAID UNTO ME, RISE UP, MY LOVE, MY FAIR ONE, AND COME AWAY. FOR, LO, THE WINTER IS PAST, THE RAIN IS OVER AND GONE; THE FLOWERS APPEAR ON THE EARTH; THE TIME OF THE SINGING OF BIRDS IS COME, AND THE VOICE OF THE TURTLE IS HEARD IN OUR LAND;” SONG OF SOLOMON 2:10-12
David removed his long scarlet drape and spread it on the ground before helping Michal dismount. She drew in her breath at the pleasure of feeling his hands on her body. The sensation of being lifted from her horse by David’s powerful grip was intoxicating. Her best hope was to kneel before him in a public chamber and beg for mercy. She was completely unprepared for the delicious excitement of being alone in the fragrant woods with him. How desperately she wanted to put a hand on his arm or his face, but she dared not.
David turned to where his horse was grazing. “I brought some refreshments.” He tossed a pouch on the makeshift blanket and reclined under a blossoming almond tree. He propped himself up on one elbow and gestured for Michal to sit opposite him. She removed her traveling cloak and sat cross-legged.
He is my husband and we are alone, she thought. There is no reason for my head to be covered. She pulled off her headdress and shook out the waves of her waist-length hair. She hoped David would pull her into his arms and kiss her, but he did not.
“Can you forgive me?” he asked.
“I? Forgive you? For what?” Michal was baffled by such a strange request.
“My last words to you were not to give up on me. Then I gave up on you. I thought you were dead, that I had lost you forever.”
“I wanted you to believe I was dead,” Michal said slowly. “I hope you will allow me to explain.” She felt unwelcome tears forming.
David nodded, “I know everything.”
“What do you mean? How could you know?”
“Two years ago, my men took a prisoner who claimed to have been a royal guard serving in King Saul’s household. He said he had information that would be of interest to me. At first I was skeptical. I thought the man was trying to improve his lot as a prisoner by making up a wild story. But the more I questioned him, the more I believed his story could possibly contain some truth. He claimed to have ridden with a detachment that spirited you away from the palace one dark night. He said they took you to a secret rendezvous, where you were married to a man whose name he did not know, and that the guardsmen were threatened with death if they ever disclosed what they knew.” David offered her a drink. “This water is from the sweetest well in Judea. Try it.”
Michal accepted the skin and drank. “Excellent,” she agreed. “I remember that night you described only too well. So the prisoner persuaded you I was yet alive?”
“Not completely. He merely planted the seed of doubt. I decided to send a message to Ishbosheth and demand he turn you over to me. The weak words of his denial convinced me he was withholding information.” David plucked a nearby wildflower and studied it. “I sent spies and told them to leave no stone unturned until they found out what happened to you. Your sister Merab was the one who brought everything together. She knew the entire story of what you did and why. You are as brave as you are beautiful, Michal. I owe you my life.”
Was that why David brought her here? To say thank you? Then what? “I did what any wife would do for her husband in the same circumstances.”
“You must associate with a different group of wives than I do,” David said with a short laugh. “Would you do such a thing for Phaltiel?”
“No. But he is not my true husband, not in my heart.” She wanted to steer the conversation in another direction, and not waste precious moments thinking about Phaltiel in David’s presence. “It is a sober thought that I will never see my family again. Uncle Abner told me both my mother and father are dead. As are all of my brothers except Ishbosheth.” The tears she could not contain began to slide down her cheeks. “Then my sister Merab, just last year. I don’t know how.”
“I’m sorry.” David tossed the wildflower aside. “Have you not been in contact with your family?”
“Not for the seven years I’ve been at Gallim. I’m grateful Tirzah has been with me. Dear old Sarah was there, too, until her death. I hope to learn the circumstances of my parents’ and brothers’ deaths. Perhaps someday I can make a pilgrimage to the place where they are buried.”
“King Saul and Prince Jonathan died bravely in battle, as you would expect. I don’t know about your mother.” After a long moment he said, “Tell me about your life in Gallim.”
“There isn’t much to tell.” Michal ached for the comfort of David’s arms. “The household business is olive growing. I help with the harvest and pressing oil from the olives once a year. Otherwise, I spend my days spinning and dying yarn, and knitting. Tirzah helps me.” Did she dare beg him not to send her back to Gallim?
“Did my spy report accurately that you have no children?”
“Yes.” Michal hated this admission.
David absently plucked a nearby wildflower. “Do you ever regret what you did for me?”
“Never. Not for one moment.” Does he not know I love him more than my own life? “Of course, I have often been homesick. And I have desperately missed my loved ones. But if it was all to be done over again, there is no question I would make the same choice.”
“So,” he asked, “are you content in Gallim?”
“No,” she said quietly. “Phaltiel’s household is filled with jealousy, greed, and selfishness. They worship idols. God has given me the resources to go on despite my situation. What peace I have found has come from Him.” She reached out, but stopped herself from touching his arm. “Can you understand what I mean?”
“
Yes, I think I can.” There was a far away look in his eyes. “My life as a fugitive was hard. Yet alone in the desert, with no one to turn to but God, I felt a nearness to Him. There is nothing that compares to that inner peace. I find it’s challenging to maintain intimacy with Him in a palace where everyone is concerned with politics, money, and power.” David rested his warm brown eyes on her face. “What of this man, this Phaltiel? Is he kind to you?”
“He is kind to no one, not even himself.”
“Are you—” A look of pain crossed David’s face. “That is, do you care for him?”
“I once tried to do so, but without success.” She folded her hands and stared at them. “When he’s drunk, which is most of the time, he is either maudlin or sadistic. I can never predict which it will be, but he is disgusting either way. When he’s not drunk, he’s the most boring man you can imagine. His conversation consists of planning his next meal—what he will eat, how it will be prepared, and the wine he will consume with it.”
David shifted from half-reclining into a sitting position. “After Jonathan convinced me I was a widower, I took two wives.” He sipped water from the skin. “First Abigail, who has my sister’s name and then Ahinoam, who happens to have the same name as your mother. They have never done anything that would give me cause to put them away from me.” He drew a deep breath, exhaled, and rubbed his hair. “Over the years, I have made four alliances that involved marriage.” His voice took on a note of pride. “I have a son with each of these six wives.” David took another sip of water, then added, “And one sweet little daughter. My children are the delight of my life.”
Michal said nothing for a moment. She expected David would remarry and father children, but six wives? More even than Phaltiel. Hearing this information from her husband’s lips was excruciating. “Your wives. Do they care for you?”
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