Daughter of the King

by Faucheux, Sharon; Havel, Carlene;

  “And you thrive on the responsibility, the challenge.” Michal thought again of her father. Being head of state pressed heavily on King Saul, but her husband wore his crown joyously.

  “You know me too well.” David smiled and touched her cheek. “Everyone can see I relish being king, but very few can understand why I love the job. It’s the power, not the wealth or the fame. I don’t mean in the raw sense of exercising authority, but the ability to do things that make life better for our people.” His eyes glowed. “It’s an honor to be God’s partner in leading His flock.”

  “I don’t know that my father would have described his role that way,” Michal said, “but I wouldn’t be surprised to learn Uncle Abner understood your point of view.”

  David nodded affirmatively. “Your insight into politics and people always amazes me.” His hand grazed lightly across her forearm. “This shepherd boy will obey the princess’s wishes,” he said, “daring to do nothing except what my lady demands of me.”

  So, he remembered the game they played in their honeymoon home. Michal smiled and gave her husband a sidelong glance. “I would like to hear a song, shepherd. Afterward, if your tune pleases me, perhaps I will allow you to kiss my hand.”

  David took a lyre that hung on a nearby wooden peg and sang softly of a lovely lady with lustrous hair and mystifying eyes. The richness of his voice washed over Michal like a warm summer rain. As the last notes of his song died away, she was inflamed by her desire. Gold bangles clinked and sparkled as she extended her hand to him. “Never tell anyone I allowed you this liberty,” she commanded.

  With a sly smile he took her hand and kissed each finger, pulled her hand closer, and playfully flicked his tongue across her palm.

  “You are an insolent fellow!” she said haughtily, one eyebrow raised. Then she smiled and added, “I’ve always admired boldness in a man. Tell me, shepherd, have you ever gone to war?”

  “I have indeed,” he dusted a row of light kisses from her wrist to the inside of her elbow. “I have been in a great many battles.”

  “I have heard that some soldiers use their swords to stab women.” Michal slid her hand down his chest. “Have you ever done such a thing, shepherd?”

  “I have.” His voice was husky. “My magic sword cuts deeply but without lasting pain.”

  “I must taste this magic,” she whispered.

  “What will King Saul do if I plant his daughter with the seed of a child?”

  “I promise you my father will never know.”

  * * *

  Michal roused from her sleep, startled by a strange noise.

  David’s hand rested on her shoulder. “What is it, Michal? Are you all right?”

  She propped up on one elbow, still frightened. Embarrassed to realize the moaning sounds came from her, she mumbled, “Just a bad dream.”

  “Ah,” David grunted. He pulled the bedcover to their shoulders. “It’s over now.”

  Michal thought how blessed David was to be able to wake instantly and fall asleep with almost as much speed. She stared into the darkness and listened as her husband’s breathing became deeper and more regular, content to lie awake in his embrace. A few hours of sleep were not worth the risk of another nightmare.

  What brought the terrifying image of Phaltiel into her dream? She tried to blot every memory of him from her mind. If something reminded her of the Gallim years during the daytime, she quickly turned her thoughts to something else. But at night, evil scenes invaded her dreams. Oftentimes she awoke shaking, crying, sweating, or screaming, afraid to doze off again.

  Maybe David’s baby was growing inside her at this very moment. A son would be a source of great pride. Yet a daughter would be safer, less likely to be drawn into royal power struggles. She smiled and patted her stomach. Yes, a sunny little girl like Zora was her wish.

  Michal shivered as another memory forced its way into her consciousness. “Our Lord Phaltiel commands you to come to his bedchamber this evening.” Bida smirked. “And bring Miss Tirzah with you. Our Master has heard your handmaiden claims to be a virgin. That will not be the case tomorrow.” Little Zora, the daughter of Tirzah and that putrid pig Phaltiel.

  I must force myself to think of other things. Michal tried to picture her nephews, and wondered if she would ever know them. Did Jonathan’s son survive? Did he have his father’s skill with weapons of war? Had any of the children inherited their grandfather’s height or their grandmother’s cunning?

  Was there any substance to her Uncle Abner’s prediction that David would rule both Judea and Jerusalem? If that happened, she could ask David to find her young relatives. Perhaps the day would come when her own child would play with his cousins in the courtyard of King David’s palace.

  After a long while, Michal managed to stop trembling. Her acute hearing picked up sounds of the household awakening. A door opened and closed. Someone clattered pieces of pottery against each other. David’s dark profile traced itself against the brightening promise of dawn. She nestled against his warm body and waited for daylight.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-FIVE

  “…THE FLOODS OF UNGODLY MEN MADE ME AFRAID;” II SAMUEL 22:5

  A faint noise caused Michal to straighten from where she bent over her dye pots. She stretched her back and tried to locate the source of the sound. The top of a head bobbed up and down in the tall grass nearby. A little boy’s shrill voice floated to her on the afternoon breeze. “They’re coming!”

  Who was coming? Michal rested her free hand on the handle of the knife stuck in her sash. She quickly considered various escape routes while scanning the meadow behind the boy to see if anyone followed him. How quickly could she get across the stream with the child? Was there a place nearby where the two of them could safely hide? There were heavy bags of freshly spun yarn to be dyed today. Why did she think that was reason enough to leave behind the pouch of emergency supplies she usually kept within reach?

  “They’re coming!” It was Amnon. “The people from Barim.”

  “Bahurim,” Michal corrected in a whisper as she let go of her stirring rod. She felt a rush of relief when she realized Amnon was announcing the arrival of friends, not enemies. Michal ran to meet Bird’s young son.

  They found the courtyard crackling with anticipation. The little boys abandoned their daily game of war to watch preparations for a lavish feast. It was quite an occasion when travelers brought news from other places, particularly an Israeli military village such as Bahurim. Everyone seemed caught up in a spirit of excitement, except for Abigail. She remained serene, calmly listening to complaints, solving problems, and imposing order on the chaos.

  At Abigail’s request, Michal went to check Maachah’s progress at turning the fabric working room into a place for the Bahurim women to sleep temporarily. A mountain of bedding occupied the middle of the long room where Michal and Abigail normally did their carding, spinning, and weaving. Maachah sat in a far corner, staring out a window.

  “Working hard?” Michal asked.

  Maachah started. “Why did you creep up on me?” she demanded in a manner that was both defensive and aggressive. “As you can see, I’ve been busy getting the sleeping mats from storage. It’s exhausting work. I’m recovering for a moment before finishing my work. Abigail should have sent a servant instead of me.”

  “She thought you might need help.” Michal was mildly amused by Maachah’s discomfort, and considered her swipe at Abigail not worth discussing.

  Maachah stood and smoothed her hair. “I suppose I am rested enough to do the mats now.” The two of them unrolled mats and spread them with blankets. “You sing very well,” Maachah commented.

  She wants me to compliment her dancing, Michal thought. Instead she merely said, “Thank you.”

  “Perhaps we shall entertain our guests tonight.” Maachah fluffed a blanket. “You could sing and I could dance. Some diversion would make everything more cordial for our visitors. And I’m certain David wants to demonstrate
that King Saul’s daughter is now at his side.”

  “I would be surprised if we are asked to perform.” Michal realized her tone of voice revealed her shock. She thought there might be some singing this evening, but Maachah’s suggestive dancing seemed to her to be entirely inappropriate for a gathering of men.

  Maachah shrugged. “We had wonderful parties back in Geshur, in my father’s kingdom.”

  Although Michal didn’t want to make conversation, she knew Maachah was likely to find an excuse to leave. Interesting talk just might keep the younger woman engaged long enough to finish making the beds. Michal was anxious to go to the rooftop where she could see the mountain road that led into the city gates of Hebron.

  “Did you dance often? In Geshur, I mean?” Michal cut a cord that resisted being untied, and unrolled another mat.

  “All the time,” Maachah said. “My father often said his daughters were skilled at singing, dancing, and appeasing enemies.” She shook a blanket and let it settle onto a mat. “I guess he must have been right. He was always trading one of my sisters to seal an alliance with one country or another. He made shrewd bargains for my older sisters. I always knew my turn would come one day, and I would end up living away from Geshur, in some alien culture.” She looked around. “And here I am. The king’s fourth wife, mother of the third eldest son. In the backwater of Judea, a place most civilized people think of as something less than a kingdom.” She sat back on her heels and smiled. “At least David is young and handsome. My sister Selima got a fat old man who wore bear skins and stank like a wild animal. Ate like one, too, she said. She told me getting sons with him was the most disgusting thing she ever did. Can you imagine sleeping with such a man?”

  Michal was not quick enough to lock her mind against the image of the drunken Phaltiel on their wedding night. Like a sharp sword, remembered words sliced through the humid air of the workroom. Tell me, Princess, what do you know of the pleasures of the lost cities of Sodom and Gomorrah?

  Michal fought the irrational impulse to run and find a place to hide. Feeling weak, she leaned against a nearby wall for support and said, “I am sorry for your sister’s fate.”

  “Oh, no! Have no pity for Selima.” Maachah’s eyes grew wide. “Her oldest son now rules. As soon as he was old enough, Selima helped him kill her husband and take the throne. My sister now lives lavishly as the king’s honored mother. She has twenty handmaidens.” Maachah picked up a blanket and immediately tossed it aside. “And never has to do housework.”

  “She helped her son murder his father?”

  Maachah shrugged and unrolled another mat. “So she says, although Selima was never known for her truthfulness. It could be she merely put the idea in her son Hogarth’s head. That way, if the prince failed, she might be able to claim ignorance and escape the king’s wrath. I do know that my sister’s nasty husband was in good health until the arrival of soldiers my father sent at Selima’s request. The next day, the old man was dead and my sister’s son was declared king. The troops from Geshur kept order until King Hogarth was firmly in control.”

  “How horrible,” Michal said.

  “You truly think so?” Maachah knelt on the floor, patting air from beneath the blanket she’d just spread. “I think it’s just the way things go sometimes. I wish our lives could be as exciting as Selima’s, don’t you?”

  “No,” Michal answered. “I’ve had my fill of danger and violence. I hope to grow old in David’s house and live out my days in peace.”

  Maachah raised her eyebrows. “Peace? You almost remind me of Abigail. She talks like an old woman. You know, she’s always fretting about the king getting hurt and says he should stay out of all battles. But you’re a princess like me. Surely you know our safety depends on the strength of David’s army. He dies the day his soldiers cannot defend his territory, and his wives and children die with him. Or we become slaves.”

  “There is some truth in what you say,” Michal admitted. “Judea has no choice but to fight the enemies around us. That’s not the same as killing within your own family. Murder is forbidden by the Law of Moses.”

  “Ah, yes. Your Law of Moses.” Maachah sat back on her heels for a moment. “The special law that governs the people of God.” Suddenly she jumped up and brushed debris from her clothes. “I almost forgot. I have to look in on Abital. She has been sick for months, ever since her little son was born. I must be sure her handmaiden has brought her fresh drinking water.”

  Maachah was gone before Michal remembered that fewer than half of the beds were prepared. She was aggravated with Maachah for leaving before the job was done, but equally annoyed at herself for failing to assert her rightful authority. Why didn’t she simply demand Maachah’s cooperation? However, the anticipation of seeing people from her homeland occupied all of her thoughts. She couldn’t wait to sit and talk with her friend and servant Tirzah, the only living woman who'd known her since childhood.

  With the temporary women’s sleeping area neatly filled with makeshift beds, Michal decided to take a quick trip to the rooftop before returning to the courtyard. As she passed by the other wives’ chambers on the way to her own, Michal was not surprised to see Maachah lounging in Abital’s reception room.

  “Abital is doing well,” Maachah said quickly. “I was about to go back and see what else Abigail wants me to do. Is that where you are going?”

  “I’m going to the rooftop.” Michal thought briefly about chiding Maachah, but did not consider it worth the effort of listening to a series of dramatic excuses.

  “I’ll accompany you,” Maachah said immediately.

  Michal would have expected Maachah to ask permission to join her instead of boldly announcing she would go along, but again she said nothing as they ascended the stairs to the rooftop. A cloud of dust hung in the air outside the entrance of David’s house. People, animals, and carts were crowding into the courtyard directly below them. “They’re already here,” Michal said. She raced down the stairs, not caring whether Maachah kept pace or followed.

  In the crowded courtyard, Michal and Tirzah hugged as if their last meeting was years ago. “Tirzah!” Michal held her friend at arm’s length. “Let me look at you.” The women embraced each other again. “We thought you would be here long ago,” Michal said. “No one knew what to think.”

  “Most of us walked the entire distance, and of course we made camp early each day to let the children rest. We did not dare to take a direct route because we knew to stay out of the sight of villages and other travelers.” Tirzah stopped. “I am so sorry to hear the news about Lord Abner. His death saddens everyone in Bahurim.”

  “Thank you, Tirzah. Uncle Abner may have been the last member of my family I will ever know.”

  “Oh, no, my lady,” Tirzah said. “Come and see the five fine sons of your dear sister, Merab.”

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-SIX

  “ALL THESE MEN OF WAR, THAT COULD KEEP RANK, CAME WITH A PERFECT HEART TO HEBRON, TO MAKE DAVID KING OVER ALL ISRAEL:…” I CHRONICLES 12:38

  Most of the men from Bahurim joined King David’s army. The few who were not soldiers blended into Hebron or surrounding farms, finding places for their families to live and profitable work to do. Michal jumped at the chance to have her nephews reside in the palace under her watchful eye. Her brother-in-law, Adriel, readily accepted the offer, anxious to concentrate on adjusting to his military duties in the Judean army.

  In addition to finally meeting Merab’s sons, Michal could see Rizpah’s boys were her illegitimate half-brothers. Both were tall for their age, and walked with the distinctive, purposeful stride typical of her family. The eldest boy inherited his grandfather’s round head and half-moon eyes. King Saul’s rugged features were clearly imprinted on the youthful face of the younger son, Armoni.

  No doubt these adolescents could find subsistence work as apprentices to craftsmen or farmers. While they learned their trade, their earnings would consist only of their training and the meals t
hey consumed at their master’s table.

  How should she deal with Rizpah, Michal asked herself. While she felt no responsibility for her father’s former concubine, she knew the woman would face a difficult life with no adult male relative to provide her with protection. Rizpah might be able to eke out an existence by begging in the streets and gleaning leftover crops after farmers harvested their fields. Or she could take up the shameful occupation of prostitution.

  Although Michal disliked the thought of the former handmaid’s relationship with her father, she was realistic enough to know Rizpah could not refuse King Saul once he decided to have her. With some doubts still lingering, Michal approached Abigail and David with the possibility of allowing Rizpah to join their household to assist with caring for the children. With Michal’s five nephews added to David’s brood, everyone agreed Bird could use the help.

  Arrangements were made without anyone openly acknowledging Rizpah’s indirect family ties. Neither Michal nor Rizpah mentioned the name of King Saul in the other’s presence.

  As winter brought shorter, darker days to Judea, King David’s household settled into a comfortable routine. Michal found a measure of welcome peace in her husband’s home with her beloved Tirzah back at her side, serving as her confidant as much as her handmaid. Shortly after daylight, Michal ate breakfast with King David’s other wives, children, and household servants. She spent the next few hours fussing over her nephews, and seeing to the boys’ needs. The remainder of the morning and all afternoon were spent in the workroom. Through the winter, Abigail, Michal, and Tirzah would weave, knit, and sew the fibers that were carded, spun, and dyed during the previous summer and autumn. When springtime came again, flax would be harvested, the sheep would be sheared of their wooly coats, and the cycle would repeat.

  After the evening meal, while servants put the children to bed, King David’s wives lingered at the table, each hoping for an invitation to spend time alone with their husband. David asked Michal to stay behind with him more often than all of the other wives combined. There were also frequent occasions when the king dined apart from the women, entertaining his military staff and visitors from outside Judea. Michal took pride in the other wives’ knowing how often a servant would walk down the corridor to her bedchamber after one of these state dinners. Holding an oil lamp aloft to light the way, the servant would escort Michal to the courtyard entrance of her husband’s room. An occasional yawn was sure to bring one of Abigail’s knowing looks or a hateful glance from Maachah.