Daughter of the King

by Faucheux, Sharon; Havel, Carlene;

  He can hardly claim I can’t keep up, she told herself.

  The road continued to incline upward. Michal started a psalm but soon discovered singing required too much of the breath she needed to keep moving. Climbing the steep grade with Joel in her arms was much more difficult than carrying only her small traveling bag. “Do you like this land where your grandfather was king?” she cooed to the baby.

  Suddenly, people were yelling and running toward a cart that stopped the caravan’s movement. Michal rushed to join the crowd. She was jostled by servants, wives, and the escorting soldiers. “What happened?” was the question on everyone’s lips.

  Even before she was able to make her way through the gathering crowd, Michal heard a woman’s high-pitched scream over a child’s cries of pain. Was that Abigail’s voice? Her superior height allowed Michal to see a group of stunned servant girls who stood with hands clasped over their mouths. Then she saw Abigail kneeling in the dirt, cradling her weeping son.

  Eliab dismounted and pushed his way to the center of the circle. “What is going on?” he asked.

  Abigail looked up at him. She choked out the word “Daniel” before resuming her great, heaving sobs.

  “Michal, what happened?” Eliab demanded.

  Michal stepped forward through the now silent crowd. “I don’t know,” she replied. “I was walking ahead.”

  “Daniel fell out of the cart,” Maachah said.

  “How?” Eliab’s eyes were now fixed on Maachah.

  “How would I know?” Maachah shrugged. “The boys were playing together, and I suppose he just fell.”

  “Absalom pushed him,” Amnon volunteered.

  “That’s impossible,” Maachah snapped. “I was holding Absalom in my lap. If Daniel was pushed, then you must have done it, Amnon.”

  “We can argue about who’s at fault later. We must take care of my baby,” Abigail said. She wiped her tears on the same scarf she used to mop blood from Daniel’s gashed forehead.

  “I’m not a baby,” Daniel whimpered.

  “You’re crying like one,” Absalom said.

  “Absalom!” his mother chided.

  “Well, he is,” Absalom insisted. “Listen to him.”

  Maachah quickly dragged her son behind her, narrowly preventing Bird from landing a slap across the boy’s face. While Abigail and two healing servants attended to Daniel, Maachah maneuvered Absalom away from the crowd. Michal jiggled Joel, coolly surveying the cart. Its side would strike Daniel at mid-chest. It would be difficult to fall over such a barrier. Being pushed was no more likely. Perhaps Daniel stood on a tall object inside the cart and lost his balance. That was certainly possible. Michal was skeptical of everyone involved. Absalom obeyed no one except Maachah, who would do anything to advance her son’s position. Likewise, Amnon’s claim that Absalom pushed Daniel might or might not be true. In Michal’s estimation, Bird’s son lied as often as he told the truth.

  It took time to rearrange loads to allow Abigail and a healing servant to ride with Daniel. Amnon protested against moving into a different cart where Bird was riding, particularly when he realized he would have to sit on his mother’s lap. Bird was adamant, and Amnon reluctantly complied.

  When the weary travelers made their final camp that evening, Michal learned that the cut on Daniel’s head was not nearly as bad as the amount of blood made her think. The worst news was that bones were broken in his right arm and right leg. Unless the arm healed perfectly, Daniel would not be able to wield weapons with skill. If the broken leg caused him to limp, that visible physical defect would be devastating to any chance Daniel might have to succeed David as king.

  Michal spent the night near her nephews and Rizpah, as if her mere presence would somehow protect them. She noticed all of the mothers seemed to be keeping a tighter rein on their children. Eliab walked around the camp, letting everyone know he blamed the wives—all of them—for Daniel’s injury. No one argued, but Michal was certain David would hold his brother accountable for bringing a royal son to Jerusalem with bruises and broken bones.

  Eliab is fortunate the injury did not occur to David’s favorite son, Absalom, Michal thought.

  The first streaks of dawn found Michal sitting on her bedding wide awake, washed, dressed, and ready to go home at long last. She woke her nephews, gathered them around her, and told them what an auspicious event they would be part of this day. She did not expect the three youngest of Merab’s sons to grasp the significance of what she said, but she hoped the two older boys would remember both her words and this occasion for the rest of their lives.

  As the sun climbed in the sky, everyone waited for Eliab’s order to move forward. When it seemed to Michal as if she sat patiently on the grass for a lifetime, a rider approached. Eliab met him some distance from where the women waited, and the two men talked at length.

  Finally, Eliab came to stand near where the wives sat. “The king’s household will now enter the city.” A cheer rose from every person within hearing distance. Eliab motioned for quiet. “Amnon and Absalom, sons of our lord King David, will lead the procession.” Eliab continued, “My lady Ahinoam, mother of our lord the king’s, eldest son, and Michal, King Saul’s youngest daughter, will be first among the wives, then Maachah, Princess of Geshur, and my lady Haggith, carrying her infant son. My lady Abital will be next, walking beside Eglah.”

  There were no throngs waiting to greet King David’s family as they walked into the city. People who happened to see the carefully arranged procession seemed surprised but friendly. Many shouted a warm ‘Welcome’, while others cheered spontaneously. Some of the old women wiped their eyes or raised their hands toward Heaven in praise. Michal’s heart soared when she heard a woman shout, “Princess Michal”.

  They wound their way up the hill toward a high meadow, where red anemones were just beginning to appear. Michal thought again how this was one of the happiest days of her life, second only to her wedding day. She waited patiently while carts were unpacked. With Michal’s help, Abigail mapped the arrangement of tents to minimize the confusion about who was to settle where.

  Rizpah and Tirzah expressed confidence they would have Michal’s nephews settled before nightfall. Michal walked around as if in a dream. She wandered through the kitchen tent where servants were already clanging pots together, putting some away and beginning an evening meal in others.

  “The tents are not as large as I expected,” Maachah said. She glanced up and added, “But I’m sure they will be adequate.”

  An adolescent girl Michal did not recognize lingered near the women’s tents. “You can come over here, child. We don’t bite,” Bird said.

  The girl approached slowly. She looked at Daniel and then at the women with obvious curiosity. “Who are you?” she asked.

  “We are the wives of the king,” Abigail said gently. “And who are you?”

  “I am Kerah, daughter of the chief priest,” the girl said. She cast her eyes downward. “I, too, am the wife of our lord King David.”

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-THREE

  “AND DAVID TOOK HIM MORE CONCUBINES AND WIVES OUT OF JERUSALEM, AFTER HE WAS COME FROM HEBRON: AND THERE WERE YET SONS AND DAUGHTERS BORN TO DAVID.” II SAMUEL 5:13

  Michal agreed to show Abigail and Bird the best place to do laundry. It was a swift, shallow bend in the stream behind the meadow.

  “When I was a girl, I played in this very meadow,” Michal said. “I’ve always loved it this time of year.”

  “Too bad the new house will take up most of this ground.” Bird was breathing hard from the exertion of their short walk, pulling along bags of laundry.

  “Yes. I’ll miss the wildflowers,” Michal said.

  Without warning, Abigail changed the subject. “They did not have a decent betrothal period. How old do you suppose that girl is?”

  “She’s thirteen,” Bird replied. “And she has been bleeding for over a year.”

  “Thirteen,” Abigail repeated. “But how do yo
u know?”

  “Simple. I asked her.”

  “Bird, you didn’t. You asked her how long she has bled?”

  “No.” Bird grinned. “I asked her age. She told me the rest on her own. Maachah was skulking around, trying to recruit another follower. So I figured if Maachah can ask the girl a bunch of questions, I can, too.”

  “Here’s the spot.” Michal pointed to the place where the stream curved toward the mountains. Several large, flat boulders were visible.

  “Good rocks,” Bird commented.

  Michal was curious. “What kind of questions was Maachah asking?”

  “Her usual. She wanted to know about Kerah’s family, mostly.”

  “So what did you hear?” Abigail asked.

  “Her father’s a very important man, or at least Kerah thinks he is. Respected almost as much as the prophet Nathan in the religious community. She is very devout. She doesn’t like Maachah.”

  “She said that, Bird? That she doesn’t like Maachah?”

  Bird snorted a laugh. “No, Abigail, she didn’t say any such thing. She isn’t rude or stupid. But I could tell. There was something about the way she looked at Maachah. I just have a feeling this little girl, Kerah, is not used to kissing anybody’s toes.”

  The women waded into the cold stream. They plunged the garments and bedding into the water. “You were right, Michal. This is a good place. We don’t have to bend over to reach the scrub rocks.” Bird always appreciated anything that reduced physical labor.

  “David should have told us he was taking another wife.” Abigail slapped a tunic hard against a flat rock.

  Michal agreed, but she could not bear to hear her husband criticized. “I’m sure he would have if we’d been here.”

  “True enough,” Bird said. “I imagine the heathen Philistines didn’t give him time to get his house in order before they decided to attack that border town the army has gone to defend.”

  Abigail pounded the same tunic against the rock several times. “He seems to have found time to take another wife.”

  “I wonder if Eliab knew,” Michal said. “Is it possible he was supposed to tell us?” She liked this idea that just occurred to her.

  “Eliab,” Abigail said with obvious disgust. “He didn’t do anything about Daniel getting pushed out of that cart.” The tunic received another round of pounding. “And then he blamed me for letting it happen. He said I should have kept a closer eye on my son. I wasn’t even in that cart. And he’s the one who made the children get in the carts in the first place.”

  “That tunic is going to be worn out by the time you get through washing it.” Bird took the garment from Abigail and handed her some blankets.

  “I can’t say that anyone’s to blame for Daniel’s accident,” Michal said cautiously. “But Eliab was responsible for protecting us.”

  “Of course he was,” Abigail agreed. “Daniel and the other boys would have been walking if Eliab wasn’t in such a big hurry to arrive at the place where we sat and waited. I told him that. I told him it was his fault my little boy got hurt.”

  “I’m sure he didn’t like that.” Bird pressed water from an armload of clothing.

  “That’s when he said my punishment for being a bad mother would be that I would not walk in the group with the other wives, when we entered Jerusalem.”

  “No, Abigail!” Bird said.

  Michal was shocked. “We thought you asked to stay in the cart with Daniel.”

  “Daniel was sleeping when we came into the city.” Abigail hurled a wet blanket against the flat rock. “All Eliab’s doing.”

  Michal mulled things over as she did her share of the laundry. Was Abigail jealous that yet another wife joined them, or merely angry that the marriage came as a surprise? Naturally, she was worried about Daniel’s injury. Was that the only reason—the little boy’s pain? Or could it be the realization his broken leg might eliminate him from consideration to succeed his father as king?

  For Michal, Kerah represented a new rival for David’s bed. She vowed to redouble her efforts to attract and hold the king’s attention. Surely a child little more than half Michal’s age would not know how to vie for a man’s affection. At least that was Michal’s hope. Between foreign wars and this new wife, she would have to work even harder to seize her opportunities to conceive a son.

  “Abigail, it isn’t like you to get all worked up. You’re always so calm,” Bird said as they crossed the meadow with their clean laundry.

  “I can’t be calm when Daniel’s safety is involved,” Abigail grumbled.

  Michal tried not to dwell on the notion that Bird’s optimistic outlook was due to the clear emergence of Amnon as the king’s heir. Bird’s son was, after all, the eldest of David’s boys. Something else scratched at her thoughts. According to time-honored tradition, she was the senior wife. Yet Bird was announced first when they proceeded into Jerusalem. Michal heard Eliab’s words again in her mind, “My lady Ahinoam, mother of our lord the king’s eldest son, and Michal, King Saul’s youngest daughter.” Could the inverted order have been nothing more than Eliab showing no respect for protocol?

  She soothed herself with the knowledge that she was King Saul’s only living daughter. No one else could lay claim to being David’s first wife. When she became a mother, bearing the king’s son would solidify her position in the forefront of David’s women.

  They spread the laundry on bushes near the tents to dry. Michal stretched her arms and thought about unpacking her dye pots and fabric tools. A servant walked by, her arms full of pots, and nodded at Michal. “Someone is looking for you, my lady. He went to see your sons.”

  Michal smiled. Many of the servants in the household referred to her nephews as her sons. She never corrected them.

  She knew something was wrong as soon as she saw Rizpah’s face.

  Adriel stood beside her tent. “Greetings, sister-in-law,” he said in a brusque monotone.

  “Hello, brother-in-law,” Michal replied. “As you can see”—she swept her hand toward her nephews—“your children are thriving.”

  “Yes, they look well. I must thank you for caring for my sons. I’ve come now to fetch them home.”

  Michal’s heart stopped. How she prayed this day would never come. Her first thought was to send a message to David asking him to forbid Adriel to reclaim his boys. Without asking, she knew what the king’s decision would be. A father’s rights clearly outweighed an aunt’s. Her only chance to remain part of her nephews’ lives was to curry favor with Adriel.

  “Certainly, my lord. I trust you will remain with us this evening to give us time to prepare your sons for their journey. We arrived from Judea only this week.” Michal smiled what she hoped was her sweetest smile.

  “I do not wish to inconvenience you,” Adriel replied. “But the king is even now at battle with the Philistines. I must hasten to get my affairs in order so I can join him and engage the enemy. I can send for the boys’ belongings later if necessary.”

  “I understand. Surely we can offer you a meal before you take your leave.” Anything to hold onto Merab’s sons for another hour.

  “Another time, perhaps. I fear we must begin our journey as soon as your servants have tended to my horses.”

  “Of course.” She caught sight of Rizpah’s worried face. “Rizpah has been your sons’ nursemaid since our time at Hebron. No doubt you will want her to accompany you to tend to little Joel.”

  Adriel’s flat “No” banished the expectant smile from Rizpah’s face. “I have taken a new wife,” he added.

  “I see,” Michal said. “Come and bid me farewell, children.” She hugged and kissed each boy in turn. The two elder sons accepted her words of love with shame-filled glances toward their father, but the little boys clung to her.

  “God be with you and your sons, brother-in-law Adriel,” she said, still holding baby Joel in her arms.

  “And also with you, dear sister-in-law.” Adriel took his child from Michal. “God will
ing, I will bring my family to celebrate Passover in Jerusalem next year, and we will see you then.”

  From her vantage point at the top of the hill, Michal watched through tears as her nephews rode down the winding road from the meadow. Joel rested against his father’s back in a sling. The two older sons expertly guided their own horses, each boy with a younger brother snuggled against him, holding on for dear life. The two oldest sons already exhibited the straight posture of the soldiers Adriel expected them to become.

  Michal remained looking down the road long after her nephews and Adriel disappeared into Jerusalem. She knew it was a sin to hope her brother-in-law would die in battle. Instead, she tried to focus her thoughts on the hope Adriel’s new wife would be kind and patient. Too late, she realized she’d neglected to ask the name of the woman who would now be mother to Merab’s little boys.

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-FOUR

  “AND HIRAM, KING OF TYRE SENT MESSENGERS TO DAVID, AND CEDAR TREES, AND CARPENTERS, AND MASONS: AND THEY BUILT DAVID AN HOUSE.” II SAMUEL 5:11

  After months of construction, King David’s house was ready for occupancy. Everyone else seemed to be delighted to be moving to the elegant new dwelling, while a part of Michal mourned the destruction of her old home. Even she had to admit the new palace was magnificent, but it was so different from her father’s old palace. David brought materials and craftsmen from near and far to make sure every detail met his exact specifications.

  The women’s quarters alone had fifty rooms, which Bird predicted was a sign of how many sister wives they would eventually have. Michal could only hope that was said in jest. In addition to bedchambers, there were spacious workrooms, nurseries, a special room for giving birth, and a retreat for the women who were unclean because of their time of bleeding. The rooftop view was impressive, looking up toward the mountains in the back and down on the city in the front.