Daughter of the King

by Faucheux, Sharon; Havel, Carlene;

  “God forbid,” Michal whispered.

  “It gets worse,” Bird insisted. “The men who wanted to sell the girls also claimed they could get a good price for the babies from the followers of Molech. That pack of foreign dogs kept saying Molech’s women liked to buy babies and use them as human sacrifices, instead of burning their own young ones alive. Zillah told Abigail one of the men kept saying sell the babies and virgins, cast lots for any women they wanted for themselves, and kill the rest. Then they could move faster and raid more towns.”

  Abigail loosened her hair and began to twist it into a braid. “Zillah should have kept those things to herself…”

  “Why?” Bird asked. “It wasn’t like we thought those Philistines were going to be nice to us.”

  “Amalekites,” Abigail said softly.

  “What’s the difference?” Bird asked. “Anyway,” she rushed on breathlessly, “while they bickered over how to divide us up, neither group would take responsibility for feeding us. At the end of the fourth day, we only had enough of the food we brought for the children and nursing mothers. Everyone else got one good drink of water and a few raisins. That afternoon, we camped in a big pasture surrounded by woods. By then I was filthy, starving, and scared sick. I hope I’m never that miserable again in my life. I started crying. Abigail tried to comfort me, saying David would find a way to rescue us. I told her what a fool she was. The men wouldn’t be back from the north country for weeks, and we were already out of time. I was sure we were doomed.” Bird grinned at Abigail. “She held my hand and told me I didn’t really know David if I thought he wouldn’t come for us.”

  “Yes,” Abigail agreed. “That’s exactly what I said. I knew he could save us.”

  Bird rolled her eyes. “Meanwhile, the foreigners had obviously come to terms with each other. That night, they laughed and slapped each other on the back while they ate their food in our sight. They danced around and had a drunken party like you’ve never seen. We kept asking Zillah what they were saying, but she wouldn’t tell us. I had an awful feeling I was going to die that night. I watched the sun going down and all I could think was that my life was over and I would give anything for one last decent meal. I don’t know why it mattered whether I died full or hungry, but those were my thoughts at the time.”

  “It’s strange what we think about in desperate situations,” Michal said.

  Abigail stopped fussing with her hair and patted Michal’s hand. “We’ve all had them.”

  Bird seemed to be enjoying her own story. She paused only a moment, then went on. “All of a sudden, Abigail said, ‘Ahinoam, how many men are guarding us?’ I said, ‘About twenty. Why?’ She didn’t look up, but she had a big grin on her face. She crawled over and talked with some of the other senior wives. Then she stood up and stretched, and said she simply must have a bath. I was shocked when she asked who else wanted to go down to the river and bathe. If that wasn’t wild enough, about ten other women said what a good idea that was.”

  Bird smirked at Abigail. “Now, here all this time we have been sticking together like burrs on a donkey’s tail, being careful to have nothing to do with the strangers. Then Abigail strolls up to one of the foreigners all sweet-like and uses sign language to get across that she wants to go down to the stream and get a bath. I thought, ‘You little harlot!’”

  “Bird!” Abigail admonished gently.

  “I’m just telling this story the way it happened,” Bird said, holding her hands palms up. “How was I to know? So anyway, the foreigners seemed only too happy to head off to the river to see the Hebrew women bathe. Only three guards stayed behind. Then Joab’s wife told us to form tight family groups and leave a pathway wide enough for a lot of people to go between the families. I decided the constant fear and hunger had driven everybody but me crazy, and I wasn’t all that sure about myself. But I was too weak to argue. I just did what I was told. We all did. I guess obedience was a habit by then.”

  Bird poked Abigail with an elbow. “Remember? The last piece of sun had just gone behind a hill when the women came back. ‘You didn’t even bother to wet your hair,’ I said to Abigail when she sat down beside me. She was still grinning like a farmer the day after a big rain. She told me not to react, but to take a good look at the guard nearest us. When I did,” Bird smiled as her voice quivered with emotion, “I saw my brother Elaboam standing there wearing the clothes of a foreigner. I looked around and recognized all of the guards as David’s men, standing around us, armed, protecting us. Anyhow, at first I didn’t believe what my own eyes saw.” She wiped a tear. “I’m sorry. This part always makes me cry.”

  Going to the food tray again, Ahinoam picked at it briefly. “Why don’t we move this where we can reach it?” she asked. Without waiting for a response, she relocated the tray to the floor near Abigail’s feet and helped herself to more cheese. “Just as it started to get dark, our men thundered through the area where we were gathered and attacked the foreigners. There was nothing but confusion, yelling, and dust around the heathens’ campfires. I saw our husband right in the middle of the fight, swinging that sword, cutting down filthy foreigners left and right. Lord, what a beautiful sight!”

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-ONE

  “AND DAVID SAID TO JOAB, AND TO ALL THE PEOPLE THAT WERE WITH HIM, REND YOUR CLOTHES, AND GIRD YOU WITH SACKCLOTH, AND MOURN BEFORE ABNER. AND KING DAVID HIMSELF FOLLOWED THE BIER. AND THEY BURIED ABNER IN HEBRON: AND THE KING LIFTED UP HIS VOICE, AND WEPT AT THE GRAVE OF ABNER; AND ALL THE PEOPLE WEPT.” II SAMUEL 3:31, 32

  Abner’s funeral was a blur for Michal. She remembered Abigail walking on her right and Bird on her left for support during the procession. Someone sang a sad song with a haunting melody. She glimpsed David, his head often bowed in sorrow, walking alone behind the ceremonial cart and bier where the body rested. Michal recalled thinking how strange it was that her husband knew her uncle better than she. Women she did not recognize embraced her and murmured condolences.

  She saw no dry eyes when David finished his brief, eloquent eulogy. It was comforting to find the old soldier was wrong to think his passing would not be mourned. She briefly wondered what would become of Rizpah, now that Abner was gone.

  At Michal’s request, Abigail pointed out Joab, David’s nephew and top military commander. It was common knowledge Abner killed Joab’s brother Asahel. Therefore, Joab acted within the law when he took Abner’s life.

  Relief mixed with her sadness as Michal realized this particular blood feud was over. Abner had no remaining sons or brothers to seek revenge against Joab, and only a male of the same blood as Abner could claim the legal right of reprisal.

  Nevertheless, Michal stared hard at Joab, feeling anger well up within her. Did he know or care that Abner would have died soon enough without human intervention? It was too bad her uncle wasn’t the man he’d been ten years ago. In those days, he would have been no easy target, even for a strong-looking man like Joab.

  Guests mingled in the courtyard of David’s house after the funeral was over. Abigail stuck by Michal as if their tunics were woven together. Bird stayed near much of the time, disappearing only when Abigail dispatched her to instruct the kitchen staff. A generous buffet was laid out at serving points throughout the courtyard, and attendants circulated among the guests to offer food and drink from huge copper trays.

  “Would you like to move away from this area where everyone is eating?” Abigail suggested after Michal refused several offers of food.

  “Yes, thank you,” Michal responded. “But you and Bird are not in mourning. Tell me where I may find a place away from the crowd. Then you can stay and have something to eat.”

  “If you insist.” Bird eyed a tray of food as she spoke.

  “We’ll take you to the quiet part of the garden,” Abigail said. Bird grabbed a cake and munched it as she followed Michal and Abigail to a corner separated from the main courtyard by a thick screen of trees.

  “Would you like to sit?” Bird ges
tured toward several boulders arranged beside flowering plants beneath the generous shade of a massive tree.

  “I need to walk. I’m an incurable stroller,” Michal said. “But you two rest if you’d like. I’m still getting to know my new surroundings.”

  Bird immediately settled on a low stone. “It’s hard to believe I was ever thin,” she sighed. “I carry around more bulk now than when I was pregnant with Amnon.”

  Michal and Abigail ambled down a pathway. “Rose of Sharon.” Michal touched the petals of a familiar flower. “We had a bush like this in our garden at home, not quite so full. That little house and its garden seem almost like a dream now.”

  “I can never remember the names of the plants,” Abigail replied. “Bird says I don’t pay enough attention in the garden. She may be right about that. After I take care of my household chores, and spend time with Daniel, there never seems to be time for anything else.”

  “Daniel. That’s your son?”

  “Yes.” Abigail’s face lit up. “He’s the joy of my life.”

  “Was he born at Ziklag?”

  “No. We weren’t blessed with little ones until we left the hard life of Ziklag behind. David was away from home so much, and of course back then I was convinced I would never have a child.”

  “What changed your mind?” Michal asked.

  “Not long after we came to Hebron, Bird discovered she was pregnant. Everyone was overjoyed, our husband most of all. Poor Bird had a difficult time. Some of the older women told us she would soon be past her morning sickness, but that didn’t happen. And for her, it was all day sickness. I don’t think she ate anything but roasted bird breast those last six months. She preferred pigeon, but dove would do. David built a bird pen and stocked it with fat pigeons. I would kill one each day and cook it for our little Bird. She was nothing but bones by the time Amnon was born.”

  Abigail’s pretty face softened into a sweet smile. “In the midst of Bird’s pregnancy there was a week or so when I felt ill, but I recovered and thought nothing of it. I recall thinking the soft city life was making me fat.”

  “You can’t mean you were with child and didn’t know it?” Michal was amazed, and more than a little envious.

  “That is exactly what I am saying.” Abigail nodded her head. “I was oblivious. One evening, about twilight, we were sitting in this part of the garden. I remember we were enjoying one of those rare nights when we had no guests at our table, and Bird was nursing Amnon. She and David kept looking at me, whispering, and laughing. I was somewhat offended, to be honest with you. At first I tried to believe they were playing with the baby. But I couldn’t shake the sense they were talking about me, and I couldn’t think why. Finally, I said, ‘What has you two so amused?’ David said, ‘We are wondering if you’re going to wait until you go into labor before you announce to us you’re with child.’ I stared at him, astonished by his impossible words. I started thinking how long it was since I bled. Now, my bleeding was always irregular. I had long since given up trying to predict when my periods would occur. I started to calculate and realized my last bleeding was months ago. And my belly was swelling!” Abigail patted her abdomen.

  “The realization that there was a baby growing inside me leapt into my mind like a wild animal. I danced around the garden, singing God’s praises. My singing made little Amnon cry, and Bird and David really laughed then. But I didn’t care. I laughed with them, because for me to become pregnant was a miracle.”

  “I have heard it said that every baby is a miracle in its own way,” Michal said. If God gave Abigail a child, why wouldn’t He do the same for her? As they came to the break in the trees where Bird sat dozing, Michal observed, “We’ve been walking in a circle.”

  Bird opened her eyes, yawned, and smiled. Abigail sat beside her and continued her story, “My little Daniel was born just four months after Amnon. What a wonderful, blessed time that was. The people of Judah embraced David as their king, Bird and I each had a healthy baby boy, and our house was filled with joy.”

  “Yes.” Bird sighed. “And then Maachah came to join us.”

  Abigail lifted her eyebrows and nodded her head. “Yes. Maachah.”

  All three women turned toward the sound of approaching footsteps. “Fasting, my ladies?” David’s rich voice washed across them, catching Michal by surprise.

  “Only Michal,” Bird was quick to respond. “Abigail and I are just keeping her company.”

  “Of course.” David sat on the ground next to Michal, across from Abigail and Bird. His back rested against a tree.

  “And you also, my lord?” Abigail asked. “Are you fasting as well?”

  “Yes, out of respect for Lord Abner.” David looked up at Michal. “Your uncle taught me how to be a soldier. I will always be grateful to him for that.” He gazed into the distance and continued speaking. “He walked a jagged pathway, trying to do what he thought was right without being disloyal to his king. Men with his strength of character are not easy to find.”

  “I regret he died the way he did,” Michal said.

  “I have seen many men die.” David leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “There is no good way. There is only the question of speed. The faster the better, and Abner did not linger. Suppose the situation were reversed, Michal. Do you think Abner would hesitate to plunge a knife into his enemy?”

  “No,” Michal admitted. “He was old school, hard line. That much I know about him. If he thought he was entitled to extract revenge, he would do it. The part I don’t understand—”

  The sound of high-pitched laughter stopped her in mid-sentence. A naked little boy ran giggling through the break in the trees. As the child emerged into the secluded glade, a woman caught up with him.

  “You nasty little foreigner! I’ll teach you never to humiliate me this way again. When I get through with you, you’ll be sorry you were ever born.” The woman punctuated her words with a hard pinch on the shoulder that turned the little boy’s peals of laughter into a shriek of pain.

  In one swift motion, David was on his feet. He took the boy in one arm. With his free hand, he stayed the slap the woman was poised to deliver. “What has my son Absalom done to deserve such rough treatment, Maachah?” David demanded.

  “My lord. I did not see you,” the attractive woman replied with an instant, painted-on smile. Her face hardened as she glared at the little boy in David’s arms. “Absalom stripped off his clothing and paraded himself around in front of our guests like the heathen he is.”

  “He is not even four years old,” the king spoke sharply. “He’s too young to know the difference in being clothed or naked.” David released his grasp on Maachah’s hand. “I can see this boy is no heathen. It’s perfectly obvious to me that he has been circumcised.” He tickled little Absalom’s tummy and was rewarded with a giggle. “You have shown everyone you’re a little Hebrew, haven’t you, son?”

  “Surely, my lord,” Maachah said.

  David ignored her. “Bird, you know how to handle children. Why don’t you find my boy something to wear?”

  “I have his clothing right here,” Maachah persisted.

  Without acknowledging Maachah, David handed Absalom to Bird.

  “Let’s go find some clothes, you brazen young warrior,” Bird cooed to Absalom as she carried him away. The child looked back at his mother over Bird’s shoulder, with an expression that Michal could only classify as a smirk.

  Michal was searching for a way to break the tense silence when Abigail made the attempt for her. “My lord, your eulogy of Lord Abner was most touching. I was moved to tears, even though I did not know Michal’s uncle well.”

  “Thank you, Abigail,” David said without moving his eyes from Maachah. “The words came straight from my heart.” He shifted to a harder tone. “Tell me, Maachah. Why would you call my son names like ‘foreigner’ and ‘heathen’? Do you consider Absalom somehow tainted because you, his mother, are from Geshur? Or do you make reference to my great-grandmother?”<
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  “Come now, husband.” Maachah’s tone suggested barely-controlled anger. “The prince has to understand that he must behave himself, especially at a public gathering. I used common expressions. My words have no hidden meaning.”

  “He’s just a child,” David countered. “You are much too harsh with him.”

  This was awkward for Michal, since it was the first time she’d ever seen Maachah. She wished she could be somewhere else at that moment.

  Maachah did not give in readily. “You must admit Absalom was behaving badly. He humiliated me. Us.”

  “I am much more embarrassed for my wife to declare my son a heathen than I am by the sight of Absalom’s perfect little body.”

  If Maachah is smart, Michal thought, she will not try to win this debate.

  “My lord.” Maachah’s voice was metallic, with an edge like a dagger. “Absalom is old enough to know better than to strip off his clothing in public. When I didn’t pay enough attention to his other antics, he did something outrageous to make me look foolish in front of everyone.”

  David’s words were soft and low, which Michal knew to mean he was transitioning from irritation to anger. “Decent mothers do not call their sons names, Maachah. I forbid such behavior in this household. I never want to hear you call Absalom, or any of my children, a heathen or a foreigner again. Never. Do you understand what I am telling you?”

  Maachah glared at David. She neither answered his question nor acknowledged his command. Her eyes swept over Michal before turning to Abigail.

  “I feel suddenly tired.” Maachah threw the edge of her scarf across her shoulder. “I believe I shall retire for the evening.”

  The king stood looking after the retreating Maachah until she disappeared through the trees. Michal studied her husband’s handsome profile in the stillness of the dwindling daylight. David’s father’s grandmother was a foreigner from Moab, a woman with the peculiar name of Ruth. Michal wondered if Maachah knew how the people of Bethlehem looked down on David and his brothers because of their imperfect lineage.