Michal's Window

by Ayala, Rachelle

  * * *

  Ittai covered my face with a heavy veil. We cantered through the town and exited the city without incident. Once outside the gate, he set me down and pulled me up to ride behind him so we could gallop if needed. I hiked my gown and straddled the horse. The saddle blanket itched beneath my bare legs.

  Ahead lay rolling hills and meadows with scattered rock outcroppings—exposed, without tree cover. We meandered along a creek and headed for a small hill. Only then did I dare to look back, too far to see the gruesome figures hanging on the wooden poles at the gate.

  A plume of dust and wild cries followed us. Two men rode hard.

  “Not good.” Ittai warned me.

  “I know. Let’s fly.” I gripped the horse tightly between my thighs and wrapped my arms around his waist.

  Ittai kicked his horse into a gallop.

  I looked back. “They’re gaining on us.”

  “Then we’re going to have to jump.”

  We leapt over a cleft, but the men also jumped. Our horse slowed, tiring under the weight of two people.

  “This might get bloody.” He unsheathed his sword. “I’m going to drop you near those rocks. Climb up and stay away from where the horses can get to you.”

  He pulled his horse to a halt. I slid to the ground and scrambled up the rock pile.

  Ittai wheeled around and waved his sword. The men drew their swords. They were the two ruffians who guarded David’s camp.

  Ittai charged and knocked the closest man off his horse with a slice that cut his arm. The other man bumped Ittai’s horse, causing it to rear. Ittai rolled off. The man on the ground attacked with his sword. Ittai ducked and knocked the man’s sword away.

  The man on the horse charged Ittai, who barely dodged out of his way. The other man climbed after me. I lunged and jumped, barely hanging on a ledge. Kicking off the wall, I hoisted myself up and over. The man glared at me from below. I heaved stones at him. A rock the size of a man’s head knocked him back. He fell and lay writhing on the ground. I cringed with cold sweat at what I had done.

  Meanwhile, the horseman charged Ittai. Instead of backing away, Ittai barreled toward him on foot, his sword in the air. He slashed and cut the horse’s throat. The horse collapsed with an unearthly, almost human scream. The man jumped off his dying mount. Ittai opened the man’s belly, and the man’s sword cut Ittai across the chest.

  Ittai clutched his chest and walked toward me. “Strip their weapons and clothes.”

  I scrambled down and touched the man at the foot of the rockpile. Still alive, he twitched and foamed from the mouth. I removed his weapons, the leather sheathes, belts and water skins, then turned him over and yanked off his pants, tunic, robe, and sandals. I wrapped everything in the dead horse’s saddle blanket.

  Ittai grabbed the reins of the uninjured horse and handed it to me. “Do you know how to ride?”

  “Yes, I can ride a mule. A horse shouldn’t be different.”

  A stain of crimson red spread across the front of Ittai’s torn tunic.

  “You’re hurt,” I touched his chest.

  “No time to worry. Get on the horse. There may be others.” He strapped the extra weapons and clothes on my horse and went in search of his horse.

  Chapter 15

  Psalm 56:8 Thou tellest my wanderings: put thou my tears into thy bottle: are they not in thy book?

  >>><<<

  Ittai and I rode alongside a creek and turned up a dense forest trail. The trees shaded us, but brambles cut our legs and tore our clothing. Ittai swayed from side to side on his horse, his shoulders slumped as if he could tumble off at any moment. A dark splotch of blood spread over his tunic.

  Toward evening, I recognized the clearing and the brook. I picked up the familiar trail and forged ahead, ignoring fallen logs, thick vines and the thickets of thorny bushes that sprang every which way. “I know of a house nearby, or at least what’s left of the house.”

  “But I’m supposed to find Jonathan.” His voice slurred.

  “You’re injured. Let’s rest here.”

  We rode up the trail to the broken walls. The old fruit trees welcomed us with bent boughs. I dismounted and ducked into the weed-infested courtyard. Everything was exactly as Jada and I had left it.

  The evening breeze sent a sudden gust that threw dirt in my face. I hitched the horses and helped Ittai dismount. He slid into my arms, his body smeared with blood, warm and sticky with a tangy, salty scent. I helped him over the threshold and laid him on the bedding Jada left behind.

  After fetching water from the brook, I peeled off his stiff, blood encrusted garments, taking care to separate it gently from his wounds. A gash stretched from the top of his left shoulder to the line of his right hip. The wound was surface, but deep enough that the skin had separated. I ripped a linen tunic into strips to clean his wound and returned to the brook several times for fresh water. Sweat popped over his face, and he hissed through his clenched teeth in pain. I held his head in my lap and wiped his hair with a wet cloth until his breathing quieted.

  The weather turned drizzly. Jada and I had repaired the roof, so we had shelter from above, but drafts blew through the holes in the wall. I wrapped my arms around Ittai and waited for his warmth to stop my chattering teeth. A wolf howled, sending chills down my spine. I drew the blanket over my face and held him, afraid to rouse him, despite my hammering heart. A tear slid down my cheek. He had been wounded to protect me.

  Ittai groaned throughout the night and woke feverish. His wounds screamed raw and angry. Within days, his fever worsened, and he turned delirious. I had used up Jada’s herbs and salves and had no choice but to heat a knife and burn the pus out of his wounds. The smell of searing flesh sickened me, and I cried and prayed as I drew the flat side of the blade over his skin. He screamed and howled freely, unable to hide his pain.

  Every night I held him, fearing it would be his last. I sang to him, sponged him with water and rubbed my face against his soft, downy beard. I talked to him, told him my heart, my love for David, and his promises to me. And because I couldn’t control myself, I kissed him in his helplessness. Desirous, delectable, delirious, he would not remember.

  At night I sang. Songs my mother taught me, songs my Philistine nurse crooned—words of comfort danced and blended with an imaginary voice in the wind.

  One night, when his beard grew full, he returned my kiss. His fevered hand snaked around my neck, and his gaze bore into mine. “Kiss me again.”

  “No. It’s not right.” I ran my hand on the side of his face, noting his strong square jaw, his chiseled cheeks, his sharp nose, a sculpture in flesh.

  “Then sing to me, the song of our people in the old language. My mother sang it to me, to help me sleep. It’s a love song.”

  “Mine also, only not my mother.” I hummed the familiar tune Jada had sung to me. Blue-green eyes, fragrant skin, comforting hands. Could she be the woman in my father’s visions?

  “Now, sing me a Hebrew song,” he said.

  A song welled in my throat.

  Float, O son of Israel

  Your Father’s hand shall guide.

  Deliver, O son of Israel

  Your Father’s chosen people.

  Write, O son of Israel

  Your Father’s Holy Law.

  Sleep, O son of Israel

  Your Father’s glory wake.

  “Eemah…” Ittai cried and raised his hands to the stars. “Mother!”

  His eyes fluttered back in his head. His fever boiled. I went to the water pitcher, wet a cloth and bathed his face. He lapsed back into delirium.

  “No, Father, no, no, no.” He pounded the air with his fists.

  I poured water on his head and lay on top of him, pressing him down and holding his hands. The cool water mingled with his sweat and tears, heating it up. He relaxed under my weight. I lowered my lips to his, soft and lazy. His tongue burned with licks of fire. Too hot.

  Reluctantly I tore myself away and went to the water
pitcher.

  “I hate him.” His voice floated like a sultry breeze. “I know who she is.”

  “Tora’s your mother?”

  His tears were answer enough.

  * * *

  I walked to the Philistine village of Sorek to buy milk and cheese. Our horses had wandered away shortly after we arrived. When I returned, Ittai sat against the wall, his long hair wet. I dropped my basket and hurried to his side, pleased he had recovered.

  He stretched out his arms. “I’ve just been to the river and washed. Where are the horses?”

  “Gone. I’m sorry. I was tending to you. I must not have tied them.”

  “We’ll have to walk then.” He hugged me. “How are we doing on food?”

  I laughed and pinched his bearded cheek. “I have been keeping us supplied with meat and fish, vegetables, nuts and berries. There were few things I needed to buy at the village. This forest is so rich. I wonder why no one has claimed this house.”

  The tangled vines, the cracked walls, and the moss that grew on the floor stones all pointed to a once beautiful home, maybe filled with a happy family. In my mind’s eye children tumbled around the porch and danced around the fig trees. A dog scratched itself near the hearth, and cats chased mice around the low wall of the courtyard.

  Ittai took my hand. “Sit with me, and I’ll tell you.”

  I slid down the wall beside him.

  “It belonged to a sorceress.” He waved his hands. “And she haunts these hills, especially this house. That is why no one has bothered us.”

  “You’re amusing. I lived here with Jada and never heard a thing.”

  He pulled me into his lap. “Do you feel chills at night? Do you hear her cry?”

  I leaned against him. “Not over the sound of your moaning and mumbling. It’s a wonder I get any sleep.”

  “I promise to be quiet tonight. We can listen for the ghost together.”

  “You talk nonsense. Are you sure the fever has left?” I wiped my hand across his forehead.

  He put his hand on my lips and whispered, “Be careful how you speak about her—she was an ensnarer, a destroyer.”

  “My people don’t believe in spirits. We have a God who is invisible and all powerful.”

  He tickled my ear with his beard. “This woman brought down a man of your people, a champion, one whom your God endowed with superhuman strength.”

  “Are you talking about Samson?”

  He paused for effect. “Yes, and the ghost who haunts this place is none other than his lover, Delilah.”

  “Wait, if she brought him down, why would she cry? From what I heard, she received eleven hundred pieces of silver. Why would she hang out in this dump?”

  “Shh, Michal. You insult her without knowing. Look around, this house was built with love. A beautiful home lies hidden beneath the weeds and cracks. Birds chirped in the courtyard, with a vineyard in back, and fig trees. Samson hewed the stones himself. Every detail, every corner, for the woman he loved.”

  “A woman who betrayed him, it seems. So tell me why does she cry?”

  “Because she loved him.”

  “Delilah loved Samson? This I find hard to believe.”

  Ittai tipped my chin to face him. “Delilah was a slave, brought from the north, as white as the snow. Her price, eleven hundred pieces of silver, the price of the sun. He built this house to live with her. Once he paid off her master, he planned to marry her.”

  “But he was caught, blinded, and killed.”

  “He didn’t believe his god would leave him. Yet his god betrayed him when he needed him most. So Delilah cries. She walks these parts draped in a veil, made with the seven locks of his hair, woven with her own. Sea grass and straw, night and day.”

  He drew me down to the bedding. “Now lay still and listen.”

  The closeness of his warmth mesmerized me with smoky tendrils of desire. He cradled me to his recently healed chest. The breeze rustled through the treetops. His breathing and steady heartbeat lulled me.

  A faint sob, a catching of the breath tickled my ear. Ittai hadn’t moved, but a sudden intake of air told me he had heard. The sobbing came closer. David. What if God let him down? What if his kingdom would never come? What if he were to wander the wilderness forever with his twin wives?

  The sob was so sad, profoundly sad. I clutched Ittai’s chest, oblivious of his healing wounds. Another sob broke from my own throat, my heart broken as Delilah’s. A solitary form floated above, wearing a veil of human hair, woven, dark and light. Her hands reached for the moon. She yearned for her love and sang—separated from him for all eternity.

  Ittai shook me. “Michal, wake up.”

  I blinked. Gone. She is forever separated from him. He has gone with God to Heaven, and she walks below, lost.

  He touched my face. “You look so sad. I’m sorry I told you the story.”

  “I know what it’s like to be separated, torn away, and banished.”

  “You’ll see him again. You will. He promised.”

  “He’s only a man, like Samson, only a man.”

  “Will you be able to sleep tonight, to get some rest?” He shifted his weight and cupped my face, looking like he wanted to kiss me.

  I stood. “First, let’s take a walk in the moonlight.”

  We walked around the courtyard and to the orchard, my sandals squishing over fallen fruit. Ittai peeled a ripe fig and squeezed it between my lips. A lover’s fruit, subtle, somewhat musky. He moved the plump pulp over my tongue and traced the leathery skin over my upper lip. I licked its sweet succulence and kissed the fleshy pad of his thumb.

  He backed me to a wall, my fingers clutching the mortar plastered with love. An uncontrollable pang, a mixture of longing and grief washed over me. I crunched the flesh of the fig and swallowed, and my knees crumbled along with my resolve. My back to the cold wall, my breasts to his heated chest, I wrapped my arms around him, my breath entangling with his hot puffs.

  “You have me, Michal. You will always have me.” His eyes shone in the moonlight, starry glints in the night sky. “I owe my life to you. According to the law of the ancients, I’m your slave.”

  He drew me inexorably to his lips, as firm and fleshy as the fig. His kisses trailed from my lips to my neck.

  I broke away. “No, I can’t. David.”

  His grin turned into a long smirk. “Am I so bad a kisser? After all the practice you gave me?”

  My face burned. “I thought you were delirious. I thought you wouldn’t remember.”

  “Goddess, you made me delirious. Every night I’d wait for you to bathe me, to dress my wounds and feed me. And I’d lay very still, waiting for you, listening to you talk.” He nuzzled me with his beard, close to my ear. “And when you finished talking, you would rub your face on mine and ravish me with your lips.”

  He tilted my chin with his thumb. “It was all I could do to lay still. You made me so hot, so very hot for you.”

  He gasped and moaned loudly, too loud to be genuine.

  I pushed him. “You… you tricked me. You impertinent trickster.”

  “Me? I tricked you into kissing me while I lay at death’s door?” He caught my arm. “Admit you like me. Admit you need me. Admit you want my loving.”

  “Never. You’re a bad boy.” I sputtered, even as my traitorous thighs shook in assent.

  Ittai grabbed me from the back and blew into my ear. “Goddess, I will serve you and worship you forever.”

  My body wanted to melt against him, but I tore out of his arms, ran into the woods and jumped into the river. David made a promise to me, and I would wait for him, no matter what.

  * * *

  David settled his family in Ziklag, recently emptied of all its inhabitants by an Amalekite raid. He smiled at his two wives. They would finally have a place to stay, separate beds and separate rooms. Abigail’s feet bled, and she leaned on Ahinoam the entire way. Hear my voice, O God, in my prayer; preserve my life from fear of the enemy.
/>   He picked up Abigail and kissed Ahinoam. “Come, let’s get settled.”

  Michal’s gold bought all the supplies for six hundred men and their families. And her gowns were precious to his wives. He would honor her and keep his promise, as soon as God willed.

  That night, he slept alone on the roof, the night air wafting over him. He stared at the moon. Michal. Was she looking at the moon, thinking of him? He cupped his hands around his mouth.

  “Hello, Michal!” He yelled and waited for her voice to echo. It did not return.

  * * *

  Ittai covered my eyes and hugged me from behind. “Quiet, we don’t want to disturb the spirits.”

  He had everything packed. In the morning, we’d hike to Jerusalem. The Jebusites lived there, and we would be safe from my father. But he wanted to show me something, so I humored him. The evening breeze cooled the sheen of sweat from my forehead, and I shook off a sense of foreboding. “Where are we going?”

  He hummed and did not answer. Instead, he nuzzled his nose into my hair and inhaled.

  Tempting heat flushed my skin. Ittai turned my head and kissed me, his tongue darting a question that begged for an answer. I allowed my lips to linger a little longer than I should have. Reluctantly, I twisted away and covered my mouth; his spicy, piquant taste tingling my tongue.

  “Why did you stop?” He rubbed my shoulder.

  I closed my eyes and sighed. “I’m still David’s wife.”

  We walked hand in hand and stopped under a large terebinth tree. The lemony-balsamic fragrance of its leaves, reminiscent of fennel, heightened my affection.

  He squeezed my hand. “I want you as more than a friend. You must know by now.”

  My treacherous pulse pounded in my ears, but I cooled my head with a silent prayer. “I’m tempted, too. But I won’t sin. David trusted you to take me back to Israel.”

  Ittai drew in a sharp breath and pouted exaggeratedly. “Your poor Ittai. See how sad he is?” He sniffed and rubbed his eyes, but couldn’t hide the smile.

  I slapped his arm. “Now, stop trying to guilt me.”

  “Ah, so you are guilty. I knew it.” He jabbed his fingers into my waist and tickled me.