“I’m absolutely certain I never told you about Samuel.”
“Uncle Abner told me of your anointing the day before he died. He said the information came from your brother Eliab.”
“The story is true. But you must believe me, Michal. I had nothing to do with King Ishbosheth’s assassination.”
“I never thought you did,” she replied. “And I saw how you dealt with the murderers who came to you expecting a bounty.”
“You saw?”
“We watched from the balcony—Abigail, Maachah, Haggith, and I.”
David glanced down and then looked back at her, questioningly.
“Yes,” Michal said. “I saw that murdering dog pull my brother’s head from the jar.”
David rested his hand on her forearm. “I’m sorry you saw that. I had King Ishbosheth’s head properly prepared and sealed in Abner’s tomb.”
“I have many confusing thoughts about my brother,” Michal confessed honestly. “We are—were—of the same blood and bone. Yet, he was responsible for the death of my sister, and many other members of my family. I mourn not for Ishbosheth himself so much as for my father’s house.” She wanted to leave this line of discussion. Tears would not help her cause now. “I could not help thinking Ishbosheth’s death affects the timing of your march on Jerusalem.”
The music stopped. Maachah sat at the end of the table, dabbing at the beads of perspiration on her forehead.
“Thank you for entertaining us,” David said, barely glancing away from Michal.
Maachah inclined her head in a slight bow. “My lord.”
Abigail shifted her position at David’s left side. “If our lord the king is tired—” she began.
David stopped her with the raised motion of his hand. A sense that something significant was about to happen seemed to grip everyone at the king’s table. As the room became quiet, it was as if the family was carved from wood. From the head of the low table, David made eye contact with each wife, resting his eyes on one, then another, as he spoke.
“My beloved children and wives, in a few days I will be gone from you for a while.” A low murmur passed through the room. “As some of you apparently know...” David paused to let his glance rest on Michal. “God has commissioned me to unite His people into one kingdom. I believe the time is now.” Ooohs and ahhhs swelled, then died. “Most of the Judean army will go with me. A small force will fortify Hebron. As an example to my soldiers’ families, it is important for you to carry on your daily routines as usual—the way you always do when I go to fight. God willing, I will be back before winter comes to the mountains.”
A shocked silence followed the king’s words. “Will you bring me a horse when you come home?” Little Absalom’s question broke the tension, causing the adults to roar with laughter.
“If that is your wish, my son, you will have your own horse. Come to me, children.” David held his arms open. The four children who were old enough to walk rushed to him.
“I want a horse, too,” Amnon shouted.
“Me, too,” Daniel chimed in.
“Me, too,” Tamar said.
“You’re a girl,” Absalom admonished Tamar as he pushed his little sister aside to insinuate himself closer to their father. “Girls can’t have horses.”
David hugged the four children close to him. He held Amnon and Tamar with one arm, Absalom and Daniel with the other. “You will all have fine things when this is over,” he told them.
“Tamar, too?” Amnon asked, clasping his little sister’s hand.
“Yes.” David kissed his shy little daughter. “Tamar, too. Boys, I want you to be good soldiers until we see each other again.” The simultaneous responses of ‘yes, Father’ brought a broad smile to David’s face. “Do as your mothers tell you. Remember, all soldiers have to obey orders. No teasing Tamar. No war games inside the house. No slipping away to swim in the stream without permission. Do I have your solemn promise?”
“We promise,” the three boys chorused.
David took each of the baby boys in his arms, kissed them, and handed them back to Haggith, Abital, and Eglah. He patted Michal’s nephews on their heads and told them to take care of their aunt.
Bird ushered the children out with their attendants. The king embraced his wives, and spoke briefly but optimistically to each one. Meanwhile, Abigail deftly guided wives out the door after each one said goodbye to David.
When only Michal and Abigail remained, he took Abigail into his arms and told her not to worry. “This won’t be another Ziklag,” he assured her. “I’m leaving Eliab here to manage things. I’ll send a messenger to him from the battlefield every evening, and he will dispatch a messenger to me each morning. If you need anything, go to Eliab.”
“Be careful, my dear husband.” Abigail’s voice trembled. “God be with you.”
Michal was thrilled to be alone with David. Her heart soared when, instead of embracing her, he took her by the hand and led her toward his chamber.
“If Eliab stays behind,” she asked, “who will be your right hand?”
“Joab.”
“I don’t like him,” Michal said without thinking.
“Naturally. Because of what he did to Abner.” David used the small oil lamp he carried from the table to light a larger lamp in his chamber.
“It’s more than that.” She shook out her hair. “I don’t trust Joab.”
David chuckled. “To tell the truth, I don’t much trust him, either. But he and his brother Abashai are two of the best soldiers I’ve ever seen. I can depend on their loyalty because of our blood ties. They are as cunning as Abner was in his prime, and almost as brave as your brother Jonathan. I need Joab, and so I tolerate him.”
Michal did not want to talk about war or politics. She wanted David to give her a son. She looked at her husband from beneath her eyelashes. “Please be careful, dear husband. I could not bear it if you were to be hurt.”
David grinned and stroked her cheek with the back of his knuckles. “I used to count on having to get a son before I died. Now that I have six boys, I suppose I must be more cautious.”
“I’m serious. Promise me you will take care of yourself.” Michal wanted to beg him to name her son his heir, even though she was not sure what that would mean. But her first priority was to conceive David’s male child.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
“FOR BY THEE I HAVE RUN THROUGH A TROOP: BY MY GOD HAVE I LEAPED OVER A WALL…HE TEACHETH MY HANDS TO WAR; SO THAT A BOW OF STEEL IS BROKEN BY MINE ARMS.” II SAMUEL 22: 30, 35
A few days after King David said his goodbyes to his family, Michal awoke before dawn. She was not sure if her own restlessness or the sounds of men talking in the courtyard roused her.
One look from the window told her the march to Jerusalem was beginning. David stood with Joab, Abashai, and other men Michal recognized as the military elite of Judea. Armor bearers were mounted nearby, each holding the reins of his master’s war horse.
Michal drank in the sight of her husband dressed for battle. If ever a man looked like a king, it was David. Although not quite as tall as King Saul, David’s regal bearing, handsome face, and muscular body combined to present the perfect image of a man born to rule. Soon he would stand once again in her homeland of Israel. She prayed no harm would come to him. Somehow, her husband’s absolute fearlessness infused Michal with the same confidence.
Before long, the group in the courtyard began to disperse. The men who were dressed for battle swung themselves onto the backs of their waiting horses. As the first rays of dawn turned the Judean sky the color of a Rose of Sharon, Princess Michal watched King David ride toward his destiny in the city of Jerusalem. The king’s brother Eliab stood silently in the courtyard with a domestic servant.
While the long column wound its way through the northern gate of Hebron and out of sight, Michal was comforted by the measured rhythm of her people’s traditional blessing: The Lord bless thee and keep thee: The Lord make his
face shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee: The Lord lift up his countenance upon thee, and give thee peace.
“God be with you, my beloved husband,” she whispered.
The awakening household buzzed with the news that the men were gone to war. Despite the presence of servants, children, and wives, a sense of emptiness hung over Hebron. It was as if David’s departure stopped the heartbeat of the household. No one made extended plans. Everything was prefaced with “When the army returns”, “After the men get back”, or “When my husband comes home.”
“I forgot how difficult this waiting is,” Abigail said. She brushed back a stray lock of hair as she picked at her food.
“Can’t be helped.” Bird eyed Abigail’s half-eaten portion of stew. “Men go and fight while the women sit and fret. That’s the way it has always been. Always will be. Are you going to eat that?”
“Take what you want. I’m not hungry.” Abigail pushed her bowl away.
“Thank you.” Bird dug into Abigail’s lentil broth. “Why are you so worried? David has won plenty of battles. This one won’t be any different. They will surrender or he’ll bash in their skulls. Maybe both. And then he’ll come home, and bring us gifts, and make us laugh.”
“I truly don’t know why he must keep fighting.” There was an unusual edge in Abigail’s voice.
“That’s what kings do,” Maachah said. “They make war.”
Abigail frowned. “Kings sit at the gate and dispense judgment. They care for their people. They do many things. Why must they also go off to war all the time?”
“They fight to hold onto the right to exercise their power to judge.” Maachah looked around. “Am I not correct?”
“Of course,” Haggith said immediately.
“Well said, my lady,” Abital agreed without looking up from the face of the infant son in her arms.
“I can’t help but worry about him,” Abigail continued. “What if he’s wounded, or…” She looked toward where the children sat playing. “I want him home with us. I don’t know how much of this I can bear.”
“Oh, come now, Abigail,” Maachah reasoned, “David has only been gone for one day.”
“And how many more days before he returns?”
“What would you have him do then?” Maachah shot back. “Sit quietly in Judea for the rest of our lives? Someday give his son a kingdom that’s nothing more than what he himself started with?”
Michal kept her eyes down, while she followed the conversation with growing interest. The normally unflappable Abigail was agitated this evening. She was normally so able to meet any challenge flung in her path. With David out of the house and certainly in danger, Abigail seemed almost unable to cope.
Bird took the situation at face value. In her country-girl way, she went placidly about her business, concerned more about what to have for dinner than the nature of kings’ obligations. Abital and Haggith didn’t seem to know their thoughts until Maachah told them what they should be. As the senior wife, Michal felt she should step in. Yet why should the women listen to her, and what wisdom did she have to share anyway? Abigail’s worries were well founded. On the other hand, Maachah was correct—war was sometimes necessary. However, her obvious ambition for Absalom undercut her logic.
As the bickering continued, Michal’s attention drifted. She wondered how far the army traveled since this morning. Could they have reached Mount Zion? No, they would stop and camp somewhere south of there, as close as possible without being detected. Leaving some distance between themselves and Jerusalem would preserve the maximum amount of daylight to engage the enemy the next day. How strange it was to think of the Judeans as ‘us’ and her own people as ‘the enemy.’
How different things might have been if Jonathan were alive. Michal was certain her favorite brother and her husband would never have fought against each other. She remembered David’s words to the bounty hunters a few days ago. He said he executed an Amalekite who killed King Saul. Did that same man take Jonathan’s life? When the time was right, she would ask David to tell her the story of her father’s last battle. She hadn’t wanted to speak of the king’s death on the last night she and David were together.
The sound of her name pierced her reverie. “What do you think, Michal?” Abigail asked. “Is it right to make war against our own people?”
Michal was pleased to have her opinion sought, even though she knew Abigail was merely seeking an ally against Maachah. “David had to go,” she answered.
“But why?” was Abigail’s shocked question.
“David is carrying out God’s will for him to rule Israel.”
Maachah rolled her eyes. Abigail looked pensive.
No one is entirely satisfied by what I said, Michal thought. But then no one completely disagrees, either. And one or two have no idea what I mean. I’m becoming my mother.
When the silence dragged on, she asked no one in particular, “Has today’s messenger arrived?”
“A soldier rode into the courtyard just a few moments ago,” Amnon announced proudly. “He talked to Uncle Eliab.”
“What did he say?” Bird asked her son.
Amnon’s eyes were wide. “The soldier said, ‘I bring greetings from your king, sir’, and he jumped off his horse.” Amnon hopped forward to emphasize his point.
“What else?” Maachah pressed.
“I don’t know.” Amnon grinned.
“Absalom,” Maachah addressed her boy, “did you hear any of this?”
“Only what Amnon already said. After that, Uncle Eliab and the soldier went into the public chamber.”
“You should have followed them inside, or listened at the door,” Maachah said sharply. She glanced around at the other women and smiled. “So we could all know.”
Michal drank the last swallow of her wine. So far, so good, she thought. It would have to be enough that the promised messenger arrived and no alarm was raised. Some day the struggle between Israel and Judea would be over, and she would make a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. There she could go to the Holy Mountain and tender an offering of thanksgiving to God for David’s victory. Maybe she would also present a sacrifice to celebrate the birth of the son she prayed was growing inside her.
Later that evening, the sound of soft rain interrupted Michal’s sleep. She listened to the raindrops falling on the rooftop and wondered if her husband was safe tonight. Was he slogging through a muddy field—hungry, wet and tired? Wherever David was, she hoped he would spare a thought now and then for her.
CHAPTER
THIRTY
“…AND THEY ANOINTED DAVID KING OVER ISRAEL. DAVID WAS THIRTY YEARS OLD WHEN HE BEGAN TO REIGN,…” II SAMUEL 5:3,4
The days passed slowly. Michal was disappointed when, a few days after the men rode out to war, her monthly time of bleeding came upon her She comforted herself with the thought that Abigail was older than she when Daniel was born. She viewed her bleeding as a delay in her plans, not a change. She would have to bide her time and become pregnant when David returned home.
Michal understood the other women’s apprehensions, but most of the time she did not share them. David’s venture was ordained by God, and she was confident of the outcome. Occasionally, when she endured a bad dream or a sleepless night, she wavered. However, rest, daylight, and meditating on God’s miracles restored her faith.
Abigail continued to be easily flustered, and occasionally short-tempered. She turned from her loom as she and Michal toiled in the fabric workroom. “I think I will slap Maachah if I hear her tell Absalom that he’s going to be king just one more time,” she fumed. “What makes her so sure our husband would favor her disobedient son over Amnon, or even Daniel?”
“It could be she has hopes her son could reign in Geshur.” Michal glanced toward the doorway to make sure she and Abigail were alone. “I agree with you. She should not make so definite a promise to him. Still, each of David’s sons must be brought up knowing he could be king someday.”
“All six sons?
” After a short pause, Abigail added, “And God willing many more yet to be born.”
Michal did not look up from her knitting. “Of all my brothers, there was one everyone agreed would never reign, and that was Ishbosheth. Yet he became king. There was no doubt my brother Jonathan was the most worthy of my father’s sons. But Jonathan never sat on the throne so much as one day. So, you see, we never know what will happen.”
“Tell me, Michal. Do you truly believe the prophet Samuel foretold David’s rule over Israel?”
“Yes, I believe prophets are sometimes given a vision of what lies ahead.” Michal stopped knitting, looked at Abigail, and smiled. “Of course, Maachah is not exactly my idea of a prophet.”
Both women laughed. Michal gazed unseeingly at the doorway. “It’s a strange thing about prophesies being fulfilled. I don’t completely understand how they work, and maybe no one does. People look ahead with what they think is knowledge. Then events unfold precisely as was said, and yet not at all as everyone expects. Do you know what I mean?”
“No.” Abigail’s shuttle worked back and forth between the cords on her loom. “I only know there are days when I don’t think I can stand the sound of Maachah’s voice. And Abital and Haggith make things worse, behaving as though every word that drops from Maachah’s mouth is a precious jewel.”
“What was that noise?” Michal tucked her work into her knitting bag.
Abigail sat still and cocked her head. “I hear nothing. What did it sound like?”
“A shout. In the distance. Maybe it was nothing,” Michal said. She sat motionless for a moment. “Let’s go and have a look from the rooftop.”
The two women made their way through Michal’s bedchamber. Michal led the way, driven by a feeling as much as by the peculiar noise she heard. Now there were only the normal sounds of workaday Hebron. Here and there a sheep bleated while merchants hawked their wares in the streets.
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