Michal did not consider it strange that new barns and stables were hastily constructed across the stream where she dyed yarn. Nor was there anything unusual about the constant sound of metal workers pounding out spears, swords, and chariot wheels from dawn to dusk six days a week. Every standing army required workmen to keep their weapons in repair, and winter was the logical season to do this routine maintenance. Like everyone else, Michal noticed nothing remarkable until the visit from Armoni, Rizpah’s youngest son.
Armoni was apprenticed to a bow and arrow maker who plied his trade in a forest southeast of Hebron. Late one afternoon, the boy drove a cart into King David’s courtyard. The lad was clearly proud that his master allowed him to make the two-day trip to Hebron alone—armed only with a slingshot and a spear—to pick up a load of animal sinews. The Sabbath was about to begin when Armoni arrived. As his master instructed, he came to his mother for shelter during the day of rest. After the Sabbath, he would pick up the sinews and take them back to the forest.
In the flickering lamplight, Michal held Merab’s youngest son, Joel, while he slept, and whispered a prayer Adriel would never take the children from her. Michal used her index finger to make ringlets of the damp hair around Joel’s sweet face. She raised the sleeping baby’s chubby hand to her lips and kissed each finger. Smiling to herself, she half-heartedly listened to Armoni parade his adolescent importance. “There are fifty other apprentices like me,” he claimed. “We spend our days shredding animal sinews to make new bows for the army. And that’s not all.” Armoni seemed to be enjoying the rapt attention he received from the younger boys. “There are at least two hundred men who cut wood for arrows all day, every day.”
“To hear him tell it, Armoni is making enough weapons to fight the biggest battle this world has ever seen, isn’t he?” she whispered into Joel’s closed fist.
Taking a deep breath, Michal looked around the room. No one appeared to have paid attention to the question she cooed softly to the baby, but her own words connected an array of observations that had seemed unrelated until this instant. How could she have been so blind? Had she not seen elders of Israel slipping into the palace late in the evening and leaving under cover of darkness the next night? Such men would come to Hebron only for pressing military or political missions.
Men were training war horses in the fields beyond the new barns. Abigail bargained for extra sheep and cattle, far beyond the needs of their immediate household. Weapons, animals, vehicles, and provisions were being made ready everywhere. The preparations were far too extensive merely to maintain Judah’s borders. Before he was murdered, didn’t Uncle Abner say her husband must rule the combined kingdom? King David was preparing Judea for a war—and from the looks of things, a big one.
The oil lamp threw its soft light on the faces of the boys. They were enthralled by Armoni’s stories of how the sinew was shredded, then carefully glued to the outside of a new bow to improve its resilience. How sweet and innocent Little Tamar looked, nestled between Bird and Amnon. Although the tiny princess was sound asleep, she sat straight and tall, as Maachah so frequently instructed her.
Later that night in her bedchamber, Michal found sleep impossible. Her body was weary, but her thoughts would not quiet themselves. Was it possible her brother, King Ishbosheth, was negotiating with David?
She dismissed that idea immediately. The only communication Ishbosheth would accept from David would be an oath of allegiance, and Michal knew her husband would never offer him a false pledge. Michal paused to savor how her brother would be humbled if David took the crown from his arrogant head. Try as she might, she could feel no shred of loyalty to King Ishbosheth.
The annual season for wars was approaching. As soon as the spring lambs began to appear among the herds, the men traditionally began their military campaigns. The seasonal strategy would give them the longest stretch of days before the cold mountaintop winters forced even hardened soldiers to seek shelter.
Ever since Abner told her about Samuel’s anointing of David, Michal knew the day would come when her husband would attempt to unite and rule the nation of the people of God. Yet she avoided thinking about the consequences of that destiny. She walked back and forth in her bedchamber. David would certainly lead his army into battle. He could be killed, even if his soldiers overpowered their enemy. If he lived, he risked being conquered. The humiliation of defeat would be an opportunity for power-hungry neighbors to test Judea’s defenses.
Michal was concerned for the safety of her family, but she had confidence in David’s military ability. She paced and thought, finally concluding defeat and physical danger were not her greatest fear. She decided the only possible outcome for David was for him to fulfill Samuel’s prophesy. Yet a king’s daughter knew only too well how a victory would hold its own unknown terrors. Being the king of Judea was one thing. King of Israel was quite another.
Michal mourned the innocent happiness she knew as David’s first and only wife. Those days when he was hers alone were gone forever. Now he had other wives, and children of his body that he adored. Sharing her husband with other women was frustrating, but paled in comparison to the frightening competition of immense power, fame, and riches.
Michal remembered her father and the advisors who constantly surrounded him. Some had King Saul’s best interests at heart. Yet there were also plenty of power-hungry jackals who would have sold their own mothers into slavery if some measure of profit could be found in the bargain. Would David be wise enough to distinguish good men from those who poured lies into his ears for their own gain?
It was almost dawn before Michal was able to calm her mind enough to sleep. She was irritated when Tirzah shook her awake after what seemed like only a few minutes.
“Go away,” she mumbled. “I want to sleep.”
“My lady,” Tirzah persisted. “There are men here from Israel. The rumor is they bring startling news.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN
“AND THEY BROUGHT THE HEAD OF ISHBOSHETH UNTO DAVID TO HEBRON, AND SAID TO THE KING, BEHOLD THE HEAD OF ISHBOSHETH THE SON OF SAUL THINE ENEMY, WHICH SOUGHT THY LIFE;…” II SAMUEL 4:8
Tirzah quickly led Michal to the balcony outside the bedroom. They stood behind a vine-covered trellis that allowed them to observe without being seen by the crowd below. Abigail and Haggith were positioned on a nearby balcony, screened from the courtyard’s view by wooden filigree work. Abigail nodded a silent greeting to Michal, while men spilled into the center of the courtyard. The public chamber door stood open, indicating the haste with which the room was emptied. David sat on a large stone, flanked by Joab and Abashai, his top military advisors.
There was a rustle on the balcony adjacent to where Michal and Tirzah stood. Maachah hurried to Haggith’s side, dragging her two children with her. “I hope we are not too late,” Maachah commented to no one in particular.
From her vantage point, Michal could look over the back of the king’s head. The administrators and advisors in the courtyard would normally be sitting in the public room discussing matters of state. Soldiers dragged two men before the king and pushed them to a kneeling position.
David’s voice rang out across the crowd. “Speak.”
Michal could clearly see the young man’s face as he lifted his eyes. “Great King, I am Baanah, the son of Rimmon. My brother Rechab and I”—he inclined his head toward his companion—“we are loyal men of Israel from the tribe of Benjamin. We have long been in hiding for fear of our lives.” Baanah licked his lips and continued. “Yesterday, Rechab and I ended the life of an evil king who spent many men’s lives in an attempt to kill you, Great One.”
“Tell me how this happened,” David demanded.
Baanah smiled. “We entered King Ishbosheth’s house disguised as tradesmen come to deliver a cartload of wheat. We bribed a guard and made our way to the royal bedchamber. As the king lay in his bed I plunged my dagger under his fifth rib, as we hear was done to Lord Abner in this very cit
y not long ago.”
The young man paused, as if hoping for a response. When nothing but silence met him, he spoke again. “May it please your majesty, my brother Rechab and I know that before he was slain, King Saul was your sworn enemy. And so we have brought the head of his son, who also hated you, to lie at your feet. We trust you will look with favor on our vengeance, taken on your behalf.”
Baanah nudged his brother. Rechab scampered to a spot near a large earthen jar. Grinning broadly, he reached into the jar, pulled out Ishbosheth’s bloody head, and held it aloft by the hair. Michal wanted to turn away but could not. She felt as if she might throw up. Instead, she covered her mouth tightly with one hand, flattened herself against the wall, and held on to Tirzah.
Meanwhile, Maachah slapped her little daughter Tamar’s hands away from the child’s face. “Stop that! A princess never hides her eyes.”
How can I have tears for Ishbosheth, Michal wondered. He was responsible for Merab’s death, and who would ever know how many nieces and nephews he killed? Yet he was her brother, her blood and bone. How long would the sword of vengeance continue to strike down members of her family? She prayed for the safety of Merab’s sons and even for Rizpah’s two boys. The house of Saul must survive, she thought defiantly.
David leaned forward. “A man who claimed to have killed King Saul also came to me expecting a reward. Do you know what happened to him?”
Baanah shrugged as his brother returned to kneel beside him. “No, my lord.”
“I had him executed, for the capital offense of murdering God’s anointed ruler.” David’s voice rang with the hard edge of a sharpened sword.
“But, Great King...” Baanah stopped smiling.
“Silence!” Joab roared.
“Your guilt is much greater than the Amalekite’s,” David continued. “King Saul would have died that day without the foreigner’s help. However, you, by your own admission, went into a Hebrew brother’s house and killed him in his own bed. You know the Law of Moses demands the death penalty for such a crime.”
“My lord—” Baanah began.
“Quiet!” Joab shouted again.
Baanah ignored Joab’s command. “Surely, Great King, you would not punish men who acted in your interest.”
“Have mercy!” Rechab begged.
“Mercy?” David leapt to his feet, stepping closer to the two kneeling men. “What mercy did you show King Ishbosheth? As for acting in what you claim to be my interest, am I not sworn to uphold the Law of Moses? Is the tribe of Benjamin somehow exempt from the Ten Commandments?”
The men did not reply. Perhaps they were too terrified by the young soldiers who sprang forward to let the tips of their swords rest on their chests.
Michal could not hear the quiet conversation that took place between David and Joab while everyone in the courtyard stood quiet and motionless. The king whirled away from the cowering men, nodded to Joab, and re-entered the public chamber.
“It makes a terrible mess when someone bleeds all over the place,” Haggith complained. “At least they’re outside this time.”
Michal turned to go inside. “Don’t you want to see the execution?” Tirzah asked.
“No. I already know the color of blood only too well.”
“But those men killed your brother,” the handmaid insisted.
The shouts of men’s voices rose from below. As she walked away, Michal heard Maachah say to little Absalom, “Watch carefully, my son. This is what must happen to anyone who angers you when you are king.”
Clenching her fist, Michal vowed Maachah’s son must never be heir to King Saul’s throne. As the only surviving member of the house of Kish, it was her duty to carry on the royal line. Her son, the one she would conceive with David, was entitled to rule Israel. The blood of her family purchased that right. And no one, especially not the foreigner Maachah, was going to take away that destiny without a fight.
Retreating to her bedchamber, Michal said, “Tirzah, please close the shutters.” She drank a cup of water and took deep breaths to calm herself. There was no doubt now that her father’s crown was available for the taking. David would have the support of the Israeli elders behind him, in addition to the considerable might of the emerging Judean army. If her husband’s popularity was anything near what it was when King Saul reigned, David would be the people’s choice as well. No one could stand in his way now.
Michal fretted over snide remarks recently made by Maachah, words that suggested David wanted his first wife back only because of her royal Israeli heritage. How she longed to be certain her husband wanted her for herself, and not because she was a princess.
As darkness descended, servants disappeared into the public chamber with trays of food. After a quiet meal with the other women, children, and household staff, Michal spent time with her nephews, telling them stories of their uncle’s and grandfather’s bravery before leaving the room where they and the little princes slept. As she passed through the antechamber where attendants slept near the children. Michal asked Rizpah, “Do you still have a makeup kit?”
“Why, yes,” Rizpah answered. “Though there hasn’t been much interest lately.”
“I want you to help me decide on the best enhancement for me, and teach me how to apply it.”
“With pleasure.”
“And Rizpah,” Michal added.
“Yes?”
“Do not speak of me as your reason, but do not help any of the other women with makeup.”
Rizpah’s lips started to curve into a smile. “Certainly.” Her face resumed its lack of expression. “My lady.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-EIGHT
“AND THE KING AND HIS MEN WENT TO JERUSALEM…” II SAMUEL 5:6
Michal took care with her appearance the next evening. She hoped David would spend time with a wife before making his final preparations for going into battle. She planned to do everything she could to assure she would be the first, perhaps the only, woman to share King David’s bed before he left Judea. She couldn’t help but notice that Maachah was also carefully groomed.
“Why is there so much activity around here these days?” Abigail asked Michal as they stood in the courtyard one afternoon. “Do you think something is going on?” Michal held her tongue, speaking only with Tirzah about the coming war—and then only when she could be certain they would not be overheard. Whispering in the darkness when the rest of the household was asleep, they agreed Bird, Haggith, and Abital had no inkling everyone’s life was about to change.
Two days later, Michal observed the public room standing empty in the middle of the afternoon. As she suspected, that evening’s meal was a private affair among King David’s immediate family. Michal wore a green linen tunic embellished with a wide gold band at the bottom of each sleeve and around the garment’s hem. Light brown embroidery criss-crossed the golden bands. After working for weeks to perfect the dyes for this tunic, she finally created colors that matched and complemented her eyes.
Maachah wore a red dancing costume, one that revealed more skin than anyone other than a foreigner would find appropriate. It did not escape Michal’s attention that an ample portion of Maachah’s perfectly-formed breasts kept slipping into view above the drape of her scarf.
The weary children were quieter than usual. Earlier in the day, Bird and Rizpah arranged for stable attendants to take the boys across the stream to visit the fields where horses were kept. The trip included going through the stables, observing equine training, and peppering their guides with dozens of questions. After eating a midday meal with the soldiers, the boys went for rides on gentle horses. Then archers demonstrated how a soldier could maintain his balance while firing arrows from a galloping horse. Today’s outing was an introduction. Soon the princes would begin to study horsemanship and learn weaponry skills.
“Would you care to favor us with a song, husband?” Abigail asked after the date cakes were served.
“Not tonight, my dear,” David answered.
Maachah instantly announced, “Then I must dance for you!” Without waiting for anyone’s agreement, she moved to the opening around which the U-shaped table was arranged. The musicians beat their drums to the rhythm of Maachah’s swaying hips. A horn player and piper played a tune in time with the drums.
Michal sat at King David’s right hand. She spoke to him as if continuing a conversation. “So, will you attack Jerusalem earlier than you planned, now that King Ishbosheth is dead?”
David studied her face. “Who has told you of my plans?”
“No one,” Michal said, happy to divert her husband’s attention from Maachah’s sensuous dance. “The natural time would be when the new lambs are born. Nevertheless, it is clear that Judea is preparing for war. Signs are everywhere. And now I think you will go sooner.”
“What signs do you mean?” David seemed interested, and somewhat amused.
Michal did not want to bring trouble down on Rizpah’s talkative son. “Where can you look and not see a Judean storing food, making weapons, building chariots, training animals—doing whatever it takes to prepare for war?”
“And how would your brother’s death change anything?” David now completely ignored Maachah’s performance.
“The legitimate heir anointed by the prophet Samuel must rule. Why wait for some upstart, or a foreigner, to take the kingdom? The time is now, before someone else acts.” She knew she must work hard to keep her husband’s eyes away from Maachah. The foreign princess tossed her head forward, causing her hair to fly over her face. How fortunate that the tidbit concerning the old prophet bubbled to the top of Michal’s thoughts at this precise moment.
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