CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
“WHO CAN FIND A VIRTUOUS WOMAN? FOR HER PRICE IS FAR ABOVE RUBIES. THE HEART OF HER HUSBAND DOTH SAFELY TRUST IN HER, SO THAT HE SHALL HAVE NO NEED OF SPOIL. SHE WILL DO HIM GOOD AND NOT EVIL ALL THE DAYS OF HER LIFE. SHE SEEKETH WOOL, AND FLAX, AND WORKETH WILLINGLY WITH HER HANDS.” PROVERBS 31:10-13
Abigail and Michal sat cross-legged near each other on the floor of their workroom. Abigail’s hands expertly passed a shuttle back and forth between the warp threads strung tightly around the pegs on the frame of her wooden loom. Meanwhile, Michal used her spindle to twist linen fibers into a fine twine. The heavy shutters were fully opened, and the shouts of children at play wafted through the room on a cooling breeze. Michal enjoyed Abigail’s companionship, and trusted her somewhat.
The sound of Bird’s voice occasionally mingled with the sounds of little boys playing war. “Bird is so good with the children,” Michal commented.
“She is indeed,” Abigail agreed without looking up from her weaving. “At first we tried to take turns with all of the chores. After a while, we laughed at our foolishness and divided labor along the lines of what each of us liked to do. That worked out much better.”
“And as new wives came along, each one found her niche?” Michal half-questioned.
“Something like that,” Abigail said. “Eglah looks after our animals and the gardens. Haggith oversees housekeeping. Bird, of course, takes care of the children. Abital was in charge of food, but she has been ailing for almost a year. So I manage the kitchen, do the purchasing, keep our accounts, and supervise the servants.” She smoothed her hair with one hand, never interrupting the rhythm of her weaving. “Well, that is, I have been doing those things. I know you will want to redistribute the household responsibilities.”
“What does Maachah do?” Michal worked at untying a knot in her twine.
Abigail’s hands slowed their steady back and forth movements. “She always appears to be busy doing something or other. Yet she can never make time to take care of things I ask her to do.” Abigail glanced toward the wide doorway, and then added, “Mostly Maachah causes trouble.”
“I sensed some discord.” Michal stretched her neck and continued her spinning.
“Maybe some of that will change now that you’re here.” Abigail returned to her normal weaving speed.
“What difference could I make?”
“Maachah never lets us forget she is the daughter of a king. I think she resents being a junior wife to someone like me, someone not of royal blood.” A note of pride crept into Abigail’s voice as she added, “She will have to be more cooperative when you take charge, since you too are a princess.”
“Princess,” Michal sighed. “It has been a long time since I’ve heard that said without scorn.” She put down her spindle and looked out the window.
“You were unhappy at Gallim.” Abigail’s voice was quiet.
Through the open window, Michal watched Abigail’s son, Daniel, peek over the edge of a low hedge. He dodged a clod of dirt, tossed his own dried mud ball, and yelled with laughter.
“More than unhappy,” Michal was surprised to hear herself admit. “After Tirzah’s little daughter died, I could find no reason to go on living.” She began to wind the newly spun twine into a ball. “Many times I prayed for my life to end. Now I am so grateful God ignored my pleas.”
“Who is Tirzah?” Abigail questioned as she wove a purple stripe into the blue fabric on her loom.
“Tirzah is my handmaid,” Michal replied. “Phaltiel, the man my father forced me to marry—” She paused as an image of Phaltiel’s fleshy face flashed through her unwilling mind. “He regarded me as nothing more than a chattel. Therefore, he felt he had every right to force my handmaid into his bed.”
“Poor girl,” Abigail said. “But she’s not alone. It happens in many households.”
“And not in ours?” Michal’s curiosity overrode her fear of knowing.
“Of course not.” Abigail laughed. “Concubines? David? Goodness, no.”
Michal tried not to let her relief show. “As our husband, of course, he technically has the right to possess our servants.”
“You were not married long before David went into exile,” Abigail observed. “Do you not know what a godly man he is?”
“I know. Or I knew.” Michal resented the idea that another woman could presume to know David better than she. “He was always a man of honor, but many years have passed. When we parted, he was one of my father’s military commanders. Now he’s a powerful king. I wondered if perhaps things had changed.”
“I would not say David has changed at all in the time I’ve known him.” Abigail stopped working and turned to face Michal. “You are still his most beloved wife, if that’s what you are wondering.”
“I didn’t mean that, exactly,” Michal stammered.
Abigail put her hand on Michal’s arm. “I knew from the beginning that he would always yearn for you. He would not speak of you often, but when he did the pain was clearly evident. You may not believe this, Michal, but I thank God for the miracle of your return to this house. You please David, and that makes me happy.”
“You love him that much?” Michal stared into Abigail’s kind face.
“Yes.” Abigail dropped her eyes. “I love him that much. And a thousand times more.”
“I understand perfectly.” Michal’s words were barely audible. “So do I.”
The women worked for a while in silence. “I’ve finished this batch of spinning,” Michal said. “I believe I’ll go and make fresh dye now. It’s so beautiful outside. Do you want to come with me?”
“Thank you, no.” Abigail turned back to her loom. “As fast as you spin, I may actually have thread to weave enough fabric for everyone in the household to have new clothing this year. If you choose to continue spinning, that is.”
As Michal put her tools away, she asked, “Abigail, are you content with the household tasks you now do?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Then why can’t all of the wives continue with their current assignments? Our large household needs clothing. I love to spin and dye and knit. Why couldn’t I do those things for the time being? If that plan doesn’t work out, we can always change things later on.”
“That would be wonderful.” Abigail beamed. “I mean, well, it would be most efficient.” After a pause, she added, “Aren’t you concerned about asserting your authority? It may seem as if you are deferring to me if I continue to give instructions to the staff.”
Michal laughed. “Maybe I should care, Abigail, but I don’t. I am alive, and I am with David. Nothing else matters right now.”
Michal was grateful when Abigail declined her invitation to go along. She wanted to be alone at the stream where clay pots sat on dry kindling, ready to be heated for dying wool yarn and linen twine. Out under the sky, with no one else around, she could bask in the information Abigail just revealed.
“He grieved for me,” she whispered to the gurgling water. “He loves me,” she cooed into a large pot. “I am his most beloved wife,” she shouted as she tossed a ball of twine toward a passing cloud. “Abigail said so.” She hummed a psalm of thanksgiving as she started the fires and stirred different colored powders made from crushed flower petals into each pot.
Some time later, Michal noticed Abigail’s young son watching her from a short distance away. “Hello, Daniel,” Michal called to the little boy. “Do you want to see how to make colors?” She laughed as the child ran away, knowing his curiosity would bring him to the stream again someday.
After the day’s chores were done, Michal washed and dressed with more care than usual. A length of dark green linen tied about the waist of her lighter green tunic emphasized the slender curves of her figure. She smiled at her reflection in her mirror of polished brass. The color of her dress turned her eyes green, an effect that endlessly fascinated David years ago.
“You look lovely tonight, Michal,�
�� Abigail commented as they strolled across the courtyard toward the kitchen. “You have such beautiful eyes, so unusual.”
“Thank you,” Michal responded. She hoped with all her heart she still had the ability to captivate her husband. She'd made it her business to find out there would be no outside guests at this evening’s dinner table.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE
“FOR THE COMMANDMENT IS A LAMP; AND THE LAW IS LIGHT;…TO KEEP THEE FROM …THE FLATTERY OF THE TONGUE OF A STRANGE WOMAN.” PROVERBS 6:23-24
Michal concentrated on sounding unconcerned as she quietly asked Abigail, “Does Maachah dance often?”
“Depends on her mood,” Abigail murmured.
Bird leaned across Abigail and whispered, “Whenever it’s a good time for her to conceive, she pushes herself into our husband’s bed ahead of the other wives.”
“Hush, Bird!” Abigail hissed.
“Do I not speak the truth?” Bird tossed her head angrily.
“We are a family. We must behave accordingly. Forgive me.” Abigail turned to face Michal. “I forgot myself and spoke as the senior wife.”
“There’s nothing to forgive.” Michal patted Abigail’s upper arm. “I agree with you. Nothing brings a family more misery than a group of wives at war with each other.” She thought briefly of the animosity that was always at work among Phaltiel’s wives, but forced the image out of her mind.
“The only way to get along with Maachah is to act like she’s better than everyone else.” Bird helped herself to another portion of lamb, ignoring Abigail’s disapproving look. “You have to kiss her toes three times a day, like Haggith and Eglah do. And, of course, you can never forget that she is the daughter of the king of Geshur.”
Michal picked at her food as she watched Maachah move rhythmically to the beat of a drum and the wail of a shepherd’s pipe. Maachah used her upper arms to push her breasts forward, while she tossed her hair over her face. Meanwhile, her hips never stopped gyrating. Michal stole a quick glance at David then quickly looked back at her food bowl, and took a deep breath. The king’s full attention was locked on Maachah’s writhing body. His face told Michal instantly that his response was everything Maachah would have expected.
Michal exhaled and turned her eyes back to her rival. She could barely resist the urge to throw her bowl of lamb stew at Maachah’s undulating navel.
Michal realized Bird was staring at her. “Typical foreigner,” Bird muttered, as if she read Michal’s thoughts.
Michal’s eyes were on the dancing Maachah, but the only image before her was the look of hot desire on David’s face. How could she compete with this foreign princess’s overt sexuality? Years ago she and Merab performed folk dances to entertain King Saul’s guests. She did not know how to put on the kind of teasing, suggestive display Maachah performed, nor did she want to.
She let her eyes rest on David for another stolen moment. His handsome face glowed almost red in the reflected lamplight. His eyes were bright with excitement. She longed to kiss his full lips that were just now curved into a half-smile. His tunic was thrust back to show the rounded muscles of his arms. It looked as if his strong but gentle embrace would enfold Maachah before long. Michal wished Tirzah could be here, to help her plot and plan.
“That was an interesting dance,” Abigail said. “I wonder if anyone else would like to entertain us?” After a long moment of silence, Abigail asked, “Princess Michal, do you want to favor us with a song?”
Michal hesitated. Much as she feared having her simple songs compared to Maachah’s sophisticated dancing, she would not let someone else absorb all of her husband’s attention without a fight. “I would need help.” She gave David a sidelong look from beneath her eyelashes. “Perhaps our lord the king would be kind enough to accompany me on the harp?”
“I’m always ready to play a tune.” David’s smile melted Michal’s heart. He looked directly at her, and she felt for an instant that he was hers exclusively.
A serving girl hastily fetched one of the king’s harps. David put the instrument in his lap, leaning it against his shoulder then cocked his ear to check the tune of each individual string. When he had the feel of the harp, he motioned Michal toward him with a quick nod of his head.
Michal could not keep from smiling as she repositioned herself. She sat so close to David she could feel the warmth of his body. She longed to snuggle even closer. Instead she remained almost, but not quite, touching him.
“The Shepherd Psalm?” she suggested. His fingers immediately began to strum the melody of a song Michal knew to be one of her husband’s favorites.
David set the beginning note perfectly for Michal’s contralto range. “The Lord is my shepherd,” she began. Michal looked at David as she sang and he gazed back into her eyes, only occasionally glancing down to pluck a string.
There was a moment of reverent quiet when the song was finished, followed by exclamations of delight. “Do you remember this one?” the king questioned as he transitioned from the sedate Shepherd Psalm into a livelier tune.
“Make a joyful noise unto the Lord.” Michal paused. “All ye, all ye people?”
“All ye lands,” David corrected her.
“I can’t remember all of the words. Will you sing it?” Michal asked.
“If you will do the harmony,” David agreed, “the way you used to sing with your sister.”
Michal felt as if there was no one present other than her husband and herself as they sang the ancient hymns of praise and joy. She hummed through the words she could not remember, enjoying the vibrant sounds of David’s melodious baritone. He slipped effortlessly from one tune to another.
Other voices joined in singing more familiar psalms. At one point, Michal caught a glimpse of Maachah studying her intently. There was hostility in Maachah’s narrowed eyes, but perhaps a glimmer of respect for a worthy opponent as well.
While Bird attempted to cover a yawn with her hand, Abigail stood and smoothed the lines of her tunic. Her action signaled that the wives should bid good evening and withdraw to their own quarters. Maachah took her time wrapping a filmy shawl over her skimpy dance costume. After one last flirtatious look toward David, she shook her hair, set her jaw, and swept from the room.
“I’d forgotten what a wonderful treasure we have in our psalms,” Michal commented as she drew herself to her full height.
David stood beside her and put his hand on her arm. “Don’t go,” he whispered.
Michal’s pulse quickened at the thought of lingering alone with him. She stood perfectly still while Bird and Abigail disappeared, afraid any sound or movement might break the spell. Did her husband’s words indicate what she hoped they meant?
David took Michal’s hand in his. “Would you like to come and keep me company tonight, my darling wife?”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR
“MY BELOVED IS WHITE AND RUDDY, THE CHIEFEST AMONG TEN THOUSAND. HIS…LOCKS ARE BUSHY, AND BLACK AS A RAVEN. HIS EYES ARE AS THE EYES OF DOVES…HIS CHEEKS ARE AS A BED OF SPICES, AS SWEET FLOWERS: HIS LIPS LIKE LILIES, DROPPING SWEET SMELLING MYRRH. HIS HANDS ARE AS GOLD RINGS SET WITH THE BERYL: HIS BELLY IS AS BRIGHT IVORY OVERLAID WITH SAPPHIRES. HIS LEGS ARE AS PILLARS OF MARBLE…THIS IS MY BELOVED...” SONG OF SOLOMON 5: 10-16
Michal was surprised to find David’s sleeping chamber was no larger than her own. Brown and black cushions made from animal skins were tossed here and there, some with the furry exterior of a long-haired goat, others made from smoothly tanned leather. Larger skins were scattered across the stone floor.
“This room reminds me of a small, quiet cave,” Michal commented.
“Do you think so?” David was obviously pleased. “That is precisely what I had in mind when I designed this place. I wanted to create a retreat like the caverns I explored as a boy around the Bethlehem countryside.
“Still a shepherd at heart, my husband?” she teased.
“Yes, I am, and always will be. I am a lowly comm
oner, amazed to be alone with the daughter of King Saul.” David lightly brushed his lips across the back of her hand, never taking his eyes from her face. “You are even more beautiful than I remembered, Michal. Make yourself comfortable.” He gestured toward the bank of cushions.
“You still know how to dress like a man who tends sheep.” Michal giggled as she watched the king change into a short tunic much like one a simple working man would wear.
David settled next to her. “You look exactly like what you are, a princess royal.” He grinned mischievously. “So why shouldn’t I dress as what I am?”
“What you were,” she said, longing for him to take her into his arms. “Now you are a great king.”
David ducked his head and looked at Michal through narrowed eyes. “There’s not that much difference between the work of a shepherd and that of a king.”
Michal smiled as she thought how her proud father would have reacted to being likened to a humble shepherd. “That’s a comparison I’ve never heard before.”
“Think about it. A nation and a flock of sheep both need someone to look after them. And both resist the best of care. They get into mischief, and expect the shepherd, or the king, to realize they’re in trouble and rescue them.”
“At least sheep don’t scheme or plot, or lie to you.” Michal thought of the men who flattered her father to gain influence.
“Don’t be so sure, palace-dweller.” David curled a tendril of her hair around his finger. “While it is true sheep are not smart enough to carry out elaborate intrigues, they try to trick their shepherds by pretending to be obedient. If no one is watching, they go off exploring forbidden places and get themselves into all kinds of silly scrapes. When it starts to get dark, they cry for help. The good shepherd goes and saves them.”
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