He pressed his face into Anna’s neck, looked at me, and walked out of my life holding the dearest part of me in his arms.
As we rounded the next bend, I lost sight of them. God had sent Phalti. He protected me when I was most vulnerable. He loved me when I was cold to him. He comforted me when my heart was broken, and he never asked me for anything I did not wish to give. He was the mighty Boaz whom I had asked God for.
Chapter 22
Song of Solomon 1:4 Draw me, we will run after thee: the king hath brought me into his chambers: we will be glad and rejoice in thee, we will remember thy love more than wine: the upright love thee.
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I raised my eyes as we approached the gates of Hebron. A wintry breeze pricked my cheeks, and my teeth chattered. The towers ahead loomed menacing and bleak. David was the king. What could I have done? How could I live without Phalti and Anna? I closed my eyes and tilted my face to heaven. “I don’t know what lies ahead for me. But, God, you have brought me so far. Please grant me courage to face him. Let me find grace in his eyes.”
We passed through the palace gates. Joshua and Beraiah had fallen asleep in Ittai’s arms, their heads lolling one on each shoulder. Eliah slept tucked in Naomi’s arms. Joel and Gaddiel jumped from one leg to the other toward the bushes.
Menservants greeted us and unloaded our belongings. Ittai handed Joshua and Beraiah to me. “My princess, I will inform your king that you have arrived.”
I gave him a half-hearted smile. “What am I going to do now? How will I face David when my heart hurts so much?”
“Build yourself a little box and put Phalti inside of it. When you’re alone, take him out and look at him. But when you’re with David, lock him up. It’s the only way.” His eyes softened, and he blinked twice before he kissed the sleeping boys.
“Can you check on Phalti and Anna? Send some food and a mule?”
He squeezed my shoulder. “Yes. I should have thought of it. I’ll go to Bahurim right away and find them.”
My older boys gathered around my legs.
“Eemah, I’m tired.”
“I’m hungry.”
“Where are we? Where’s Abba?”
“Where’s Anna? Eemah, did you lose her?”
Eliah held up his chubby arms. “Pick me up.”
Joshua and Beraiah woke and squirmed to the ground. I hefted Eliah in my arms and kissed him, hugging him too tightly.
Naomi shushed the children. “Your mother is as tired as you are. Let’s go with these nice men. Perhaps they have something for us to eat.”
They brought us to a courtyard lined with trees. Several women with their children played in front of a large fountain. They stopped and stared at us.
Joshua and Beraiah ran up to a little boy. “Hi, want to throw rocks?”
The boy laughed, tapped Beraiah on the arm, and ran around the fountain. Before I could restrain them, Joshua jumped into the fountain while Gaddiel clambered up a tree.
Joel hung back. “I’m hungry.”
Eliah clung to me when I tried to put him down to corral Joshua. “I want Abba.”
Naomi took him, and he threw himself on the ground and screamed for Phalti.
I yanked Joshua out of the fountain. A servant chased Beraiah and collared him. Another managed to coax Gaddiel off the tree with promises of raisin cakes while Naomi wiped Eliah’s tears.
Another boy ran by, and Joshua slipped out of my grasp. I stumbled and splashed into the pool of water.
Laughter pealed from the other women, and two of them rushed over, as one body, to my side.
“Oh, you must be the new queen.” The long-haired one spoke.
“Somebody, get Joshua.” I yelled.
“Oh, leave him. He’s having fun. Here, let me help you.” A slight, thin woman with chestnut-brown hair and a freckled face held out her hand. “I’m Abigail, David’s third wife.”
“And I’m Ahinoam, David’s second wife,” said the walnut-colored beauty with raven black hair. I recognized her as the one on David’s sleeping mat.
They both twittered and smiled at me, conspiratorially, like old friends.
“You have probably surmised that I’m Michal.” I twisted my lips in a self-deprecating smile which brought another round of soft laughter.
“We remember you from the tent.” They giggled as I wrung water out of my robe.
“Don’t worry, Michal, you’ll get used to it. We all share the same husband.” They laughed as if it was the funniest joke.
I mumbled my cordialities at meeting them and excused myself to tend to my children while suppressing another round of despair. I couldn’t understand how gleeful they were about sharing a husband. They acted as if it was as natural as growing up in a house with many sisters.
Three more women sauntered around the yard. The haughty woman had to be the Princess of Geshur. Petite, she was a dark beauty, decked in jewelry, her lush, oiled hair flowing down to her waist. The second one sported a crown of flaming red hair. Exceedingly fair, the too-smart look on her face warned me to be wary. Behind her slunk a buxom beauty, blue-eyed and fair with straw colored hair. Young and shy, she blinked her doe-like eyes at me and smiled. What a collection you have here, David.
I entered the house they designated for me and found my children sitting on benches at a table. Naomi and the other servants fed them lamb wrapped in flatbread, slices of cheese, grapes and cakes.
I walked into the sitting room, my heart heavy with thoughts of Phalti and Anna. I dreaded my first meeting with David. Could I convince him to let Phalti stay? David was king now. Would he have changed? My heart teetered. I hadn’t seen him since the morning I left Gath. He had stood under that olive tree and looked after me. He had loved me then. Michal, don’t forget me. Don’t forget this moment, this night. Whatever happens.
I inhaled sharply, my feelings in turmoil. I had forgotten him, and I had not believed his promise. Thankful that Naomi and the servants took charge of the children, I slumped on the couch. My chest tightened and a lump formed in my throat, making it hard to breathe. Michal, no matter what, remember my promise.
* * *
A servant woke me. “King David desires an audience with you, and you have not been prepared.”
“But… I’m too tired, exhausted,” I said, but the servant looked at me sternly, her matronly looks told me she was in charge.
“Bring your maid, and we’ll prepare your bath.”
Dazed and groggy, I followed her up a flight of stairs. Naomi trailed behind me.
The room exuded pure luxury with all the trappings of a queen’s bedchamber. A new harp, inlayed with gold, stood in one corner. Jewelry, bracelets, necklaces, and earrings lay on a smooth teak table, along with a carved wooden box. Gowns and robes hung on the rack. I ran my fingers through the silks and fingered the furniture. Oh, David, why did you wait so long?
A bevy of maidservants descended on me. They twittered like a flock of birds, carrying silks, creams, perfumes, and face paints.
“O Queen, we are at your service.” They bowed prettily, regarding me under downcast eyelids, and crowded around me, simpering and chattering with soft, delicate voices.
Gentle, but unfamiliar hands removed my clothes and led me to a warm bath filled with fragrant bubbles. I leaned back and relaxed, marveling at how easily I slipped back into allowing other hands to touch and cleanse me. While I dozed, they smoothed my feet and elbows, massaged my neck and face, and combed and oiled my hair.
One maid dried my hair, and the others paraded around with an orchestra of dazzling robes: vermillion, indigo, silky, brocaded with gold and blue patterns, embroidered with pomegranates, fig leaves and artichokes, trimmed with silver threads and beads. Once, long ago, I had loved clothes and enjoyed dressing and coordinating my apparel. But since my return from Philistia, I wore plain robes and paid little heed to my appearance.
The maids paraded in front of me with gowns for me to choose.
“O Queen, eye
s like a cat, how about this peacock silk to set them off?”
“O Queen, your hair as lush as a forest, with this Egyptian linen, more regal than the queen of the Nile you’ll be.”
“O Queen, your skin, smooth as silk, a dress of cream and honey, to taste of your beauty.”
I chose the honey and cream colored outfit and kept my adornments as simple as they’d allow: a few ornaments in my hair, a pair of pearl earrings, golden bracelets, and a single anklet studded with jewels. Without my emerald, the nook between my breasts dangled as empty as my heart.
“O Queen, the royal artificer, Nefertira,” said one of the dressing maids as she retreated from my chamber. A woman, painted in the Egyptian style, approached me with a cart of pots. Her eyelids lined with kohl, lashes caked with thick, chunky tar, and a garish green texture under her eyebrows, she swayed her ample hips. Her bright red lips etched over pasty, stretchy skin elongated to reveal long, yellowed teeth.
“I am Nefertira, the royal artificer. I am come to make you fit for a king.” Her accent clipped the words around her tippling tongue.
Naomi slunk in the corner with a horrified expression. I shook my head. “With all respect, Nefertira, I would prefer that my handmaid, Naomi, put on my kohl, rouge, and carmine.”
Nefertira shot a disdainful look. “But… I do up all the king’s women, and you are the most special, for you are the queen.” So I’ve been informed by this swarm of maids, but not a word from the king.
“Nefertira, if I’m the queen, you must respect my wishes in this matter. I will not have a face my king would not recognize if I looked exactly like all of his other women, now would I?” My logic rattled her. Mumbling about her art and her skill to spin beauty out of a rat’s nest, she bowed and retreated, her servant pushing the cart away.
The sudden silence was a relief. Naomi jumped to my side, and I hugged her with appreciation, laughing at the departed sideshow. Naomi held up a silver mirror and showed me the spectacle of my hair, dress, and jewelry. Even my mother, as queen, had not the extravagance David had just showered upon me.
Naomi went to work on my makeup, a little cream to smooth my skin, some eyeliner, not obvious, a bit of rouge on my cheeks, and color to my lips. A dusting of jasmine powder in my hair completed my preparation.
* * *
My window faced away from the courtyard and gave me a glimpse of the street below. Soldiers marched around the compound, messengers scurried to finish their deliveries, and serving girls hoisted water jugs.
A young man strolled around the corner with a little girl on his shoulders. She tickled his nose with a bouquet of flowers. He sneezed right under my window, set her down on a wall and handed her a piece of candy, taking the flowers in exchange. Her mouth stuffed with candy, she squealed and pouted for the flowers. How could he resist? He gave her the flowers as they walked away. The lump grew in my throat, and I dabbed tears with a handkerchief.
I raised my eyes and spied him immediately. David. My stomach jittered with the wings of a butterfly colony, and my heart scattered like a flock of startled birds. I grasped the edge of the windowsill, astounded at the effect he still had on me. David walked in a fast pace, straight and confident. He gestured and gave instructions to the men attending him.
An insistent knock later, a messenger uttered, “Behold, the king.”
My hand clapped over my chest, and my breath snatched in my throat. I stepped back from the window, my pulse galloping off a cliff. How would he receive me? Would he still care?
Not a moment later, David crossed the threshold. Changed, unbearably handsome and regal, he strode in, a conqueror, and clasped me in his arms. His face broke with a warm smile. My head reeled even as my tearful cheeks simmered.
For several long moments, I stared at him, not believing this moment had finally arrived. No words came from my mouth, just a small choking gasp I quickly swallowed. I was struck by the lines on his face and his darkened beard. The scar beneath his left eye quivered when I whispered his name.
He covered my forehead with a kiss. “How was the journey? I hope you are well rested.”
“It went well, my lord. Thank you.” Breathlessly, I looked into his sensuous eyes, searching for my past. His touch invigorated and stirred me in a wonderful but forgotten way.
“And the children? How are they?”
“As well as can be, I suppose.” I lowered my gaze, a twinge of guilt surfaced at the thought of Anna and Phalti.
He leaned forward and stroked my hair. “Ittai gave me a full report.” He added in a soft voice, “It must have been hard for you.”
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and suppressed the damp heaviness in my heart. I would not let David see me weak. When I looked up, his eyes were warm and sympathetic.
He hugged me while the servants set the table. The aroma of my favorite dish, sea bass steamed in a sauce blended with chopped cilantro, chili, garlic, lemon, and cumin permeated the room. They lit the candles and poured goblets of golden wine, laid out rows of fruit, cheese and cakes, and departed as silently as they arrived.
David offered me some wine.
I waved it away, feeling shy and homesick as a sob escaped my pressed lips. He lifted my chin and stroked my cheek, awakening a glow that fought the clouds inside of me. “I fetched you as soon as I could, as I promised.”
His smile was sweet like a three year old’s. “Do you see me, Michal, as I was from the window ledge?”
And I did. So many nights, I had fought to hold the image of him at the window I lowered him from. So many nights, I prayed for him and asked God to bring him back to me. So many nights, I lay awake in bed, desiring him. Oh, David, how I waited.
But, lately—instead of the window, there was the road—the road at Bahurim where Phalti looked back with Anna. How could I forget him who had loved me in my distress, gave me safety in my sorrow?
I lowered my face to the crock of David’s neck, missing the warmth of Phalti’s broad chest. “I can’t do this.”
We stood in silence many moments, his fingers stroking circles over my shoulders. “Michal, I missed you so much. I used to stand on top of a rock and gaze into the night sky and picture you at your window calling to me.”
“I missed you, too.” My voice quavered. “I found your notes in Jonathan’s leather tube.”
“Then you know I cared.” He lifted my chin and kissed my cheeks. And when our lips met, anger, pain, and sorrow melted as tenderly as the embraces of a tiny child with kisses as gentle as the downy fuzz on a newborn’s scalp.
“Your father can’t keep us apart now,” he whispered as he nibbled behind my ear. “I’ve waited so long.”
I couldn’t speak. My feelings tumbled as an avalanche down a steep slope. Each boulder echoed Phalti or Anna’s name in my ear. What kind of mother was I? What kind of wife?
Chapter 23
Job 5:18 For he maketh sore, and bindeth up: he woundeth, and his hands make whole.
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Hazy sunlight filtered through the window. I reached for Phalti before remembering where I was and drew the cover over my head. The side David had slept on was still warm with the scent of sandalwood and musk. He’d held me all night, comforting me, but did not push.
I wiped a tear from my face. How had Anna and Phalti fared in the rain last night? Anna’s chubby hands, Phalti’s gentle smile, her sweet dimples, his loving arms. Would David let me see them?
Oh, God. A man after Your heart would have mercy, wouldn’t he?
David returned in the afternoon and ruffled the sheets. “You still in bed? Are you ready to meet the rest of my family?”
I shut my eyes. “We left Phalti and Anna in the rain, and I’m worried about them.”
“Ittai’s taken a couple of guards to escort them. They’ll be fine.” He kissed my temple. “I’m just glad to have you again.”
He waited for me to dress and led me down a corridor to the courtyard. All chattering stopped as we approached.
/> “Women,” David said, “this is Michal, my wife. I’ve brought her back as I vowed, and she will be my queen.” A sudden chill stiffened the atmosphere.
One by one, he introduced them. “This is Ahinoam, the Jezreelitess, and our firstborn son, Amnon. Abigail, wife of Nabal the Carmelite, and our little Chileab, born only a few days after Amnon.” The women waved with their fingers and smiled.
David wiggled his finger at a petite woman. “Maacah, will you come here?”
The sultry woman tilted her chin and swayed toward us, the bells on her skirt tinkling. My eyes narrowed. This was the princess and she looked like trouble.
David smiled indulgently. “This is Maacah, the daughter of Talmai, king of Geshur. Where’s Absalom by the way?”
Maacah pointed a pouty lip at him, wiggled her shoulders and went off to look for him. David seemed too proud of himself. I ground my teeth as unobtrusively as I could, aware his other wives watched me.
Joshua chased a boy about three years old. The boy screamed at the top of his lungs, his long, wavy hair bouncing in the breeze.
David laughed. “Maacah, you should keep an eye on your son.”
Maacah jutted her lower lip at him and shot me a nasty glare. She swept Absalom into her arms, as if Joshua bore a loathsome disease, and handed him to David.
David swung the child over his head and bounced him in the air. The boy squealed with delight, and I could not miss the proud, happy gleam in David’s eyes. A lump pressed my throat. He would have loved Samuel as much, if not more. A sudden lack of air seized my lungs, and I squeezed my arms to keep from sighing.
David put the toddler down and gestured in back of me. “Here are Haggith and Abital. They’re new here, gifts from my latest allies.”
The redhead and the blonde smiled and nodded, both quite young and with child, one further along than the other.
I looked to David for reassurance as he led me from his troop of wives, but my heart sank when he told me he had a meeting with his generals. “Make yourself at home. I’ll expect you at dinner in two hours.”
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