Michal's Window

by Ayala, Rachelle

  He shoved the basin of water onto the floor.

  Hot anger flushed my chest. “You did all these to me. And not with one woman, but five.”

  “Do you know who I am?” he shouted. “I am the king of Israel. Is a king to be treated with disdain from his queen?”

  “I don’t want to be your queen. You have five other wives. Why me?”

  He gripped my shoulders. “Because you’re the wife of my covenant. And you’re mine. Mine!”

  “No, I’m not yours. You’re so arrogant. You think you can order me around because you’re the king?”

  “You have my sons. You will stay and be my queen.”

  Guilt and frustration battled. I pushed him and jutted my chin. “They’re not your sons. I lied to you.” My voice jabbed to hurt him.

  His face blanched before reddening. “You’re lying right now. You can’t hide anything from me. I read your face when you told me I had gotten you pregnant. That was real.”

  His words tore the scar on my heart, and the familiar, lingering pain cut through my chest. My false bravado turned into real sobs. I crumbled on the bed and hid my face on the pillow. Yes, Samuel was real, too, too real.

  David pulled on a cloak and slammed the door.

  * * *

  I wasn’t prepared for the events that closely followed David’s coronation. The curse struck the house of Saul again. David’s treacherous nephew Joab ambushed and murdered my uncle Abner by pretending to deliver a message from David. They buried him with much fanfare, yet Joab walked free.

  A week later, while I played with my boys in the yard, Haggith ran by screaming.

  “I saw them at the courthouse.” Her grey eyes bulged, and her breathing was ragged.

  “Saw what? Haggith, calm down.” Abigail patted her shoulder. “And what were you doing near the courthouse?”

  Haggith collapsed on the floor, her eyes turned back in their sockets, and saliva dribbled from her mouth. She writhed so hard I thought she’d go into labor. I bent over her to check her womb. Still soft. Not labor pains.

  Abigail yelled for Ahinoam to bring a spindle. “She’s having another seizure.”

  They forced open her mouth and shoved in the spindle. Haggith gagged, and in a few minutes she sat up, dazed. Little bits of dirt and twigs entangled her red hair. She lowered her head and cried.

  David stepped into the courtyard with a grim expression. He stared at me in a way that selected me for bad news. “Come with me.”

  Naomi and Abigail gathered the boys while Ahinoam helped Haggith back to her apartment.

  “What is it?” I tugged his sleeve. “What has happened?”

  He put a finger on my lips. “Just come with me.”

  “Is it Phalti? Anna? Are they all right?”

  “They’re fine.” He led me up the spiral stairs and sat with me on the couch. “It’s your brother, Ishbaal. He’s dead.”

  “Ishby! No… no-o! How can it be? I thought you protected him.” My teeth chattered and grief welled in my eyes.

  David held me tightly. “I did. But I didn’t count on two men plotting to ingratiate themselves to me by killing the last son of Saul.”

  “You mean your guards killed him?” I pushed him hard. “David!”

  “They were Ishby’s men. I’ve executed them already. They’re hanging over the pool near the courtroom.”

  I recoiled at the horror of my brother’s death following so close to Abner’s. Even though Abner and I did not get along, he was still a member of my family and my father’s chief commander.

  “But, David, if they’re hanging, why does Joab walk free? Joab ambushed Abner under false pretenses.”

  David rubbed his hair and clasped his face. “Michal, alas, the sons of Zeruiah are too hard for me. Although I’m anointed king, I’m weak. The LORD shall reward the doer of evil according to his wickedness.”

  “What do you mean they’re too hard for you? Since when is murder winked at? My father executed all murderers. Do you allow your nephew to commit murder, yet you execute two strangers?”

  David’s eyes narrowed. “Wife, I thought to comfort you concerning your brother. But I see you care more to meddle in the affairs of my kingdom. My word is law here.”

  “Wrong. God’s Word is Law.”

  “A law you obviously didn’t follow when you lay with Phaltiel.”

  “I? I? What about you and all your wives?”

  “It’s not the same,” he said. “A man is allowed more than a single wife. What woman in Israel has more than one husband?”

  I put my hands on my hips and pushed up against him. “I am that woman. Because of your neglect, I now have two husbands.”

  “You talk like a crazy woman. I have a busy afternoon. Grieve for your brother, but don’t expect me tonight.” He strode out the door and slammed it.

  Oh, Ishby, my dear brother, my brother, the happy prince. Why hadn’t you come with me and stayed under David’s protection? Panic clutched my throat. Phalti and Anna must have been in the palace when Ishbaal was killed.

  I glanced at the courtyard from my window. Ittai played with Joshua and Beraiah. I willed him to look at me, but he continued to play, fetching a small rawhide ball and rolling it back to them. Ishby used to play with my boys. Ishby, who only wanted to be a boy and stay a boy—Ishby, my sweet, simple brother, born with a club foot and a big heart.

  I sank on the windowsill and wept.

  * * *

  The door opened with a knock, and a servant set a platter of food on the table. I muttered my appreciation and was about to shut the door when a bronzed hand grabbed the frame.

  Ittai slipped in. “David just told me. I see you’re mourning.”

  “I’m in a perpetual state of mourning.”

  Ittai cradled me in his arms and rocked me, whispering sweet words in my ears. “Is there anything I can do for you? Ask me anything.”

  “Can you see that Phalti, Anna, Rizpah and her two sons are protected? Go there and assure me they are safe.”

  “Yes, I’ll go right away and take a contingent of my hand-picked guards and place them there. Is there anything else?” His eyes glinted, and he kissed my hand before moving to my lips.

  I pushed him sharply. “No, Ittai. No more. I have vowed to keep myself for David alone.”

  David was right. I was his wife, and even though he infuriated me, I still owed him loyalty and allegiance.

  Ittai closed his eyes and placed my hand on his bearded cheek. He turned his lips and grazed them across my palm, open mouthed with a hint of his tongue. I withdrew my hand from his grasp and rubbed it as if it contained a coiled snake.

  “I shall do as you request.” His lips tightened to a thin line, and he tilted his head markedly to the left and then the right, his joints popping. With lowered eyelids, he went to the door. He turned for one last look before he shut the door quietly.

  * * *

  David did not return to our bedchamber until the end of the middle watch, deep in the night, smelling like bergamot. I made room in the bed for him and turned my back. Bitter to swallow, but at least he crawled back to me every night and kept me company.

  “Did I wake you?” He cradled me from the back, wafting the citrusy scent over me.

  “No. I couldn’t sleep thinking about my losses. My father, mother, Jonathan, Merab, Melchishua, Ishui, Ishbaal, Abner, Elihu, Adriel. All I’ve been doing is mourning. And when I finally get over mourning one set of people, another set die, and I mourn all over again.”

  Samuel, centered in my heart, remained unspoken.

  “I’m sorry, darling.” He rubbed my shoulders. “Half of my family has died, too. When I came to my kingdom, the first thing I did was go to Moab to fetch my parents.” His voice caught in his throat.

  I shivered and shut my eyes. Poor David.

  “They would have been proud of me. Michal, if your father hadn’t driven them away. They were so old…” He sobbed. “I never found their bones. I… never… found… t
heir… bones.”

  My heart pinched, and chills sprinkled my scalp. David’s sweet mother and father were buried in unmarked graves, far from home. I turned and clasped his hands. “Oh, David. It’s all my fault. If you hadn’t married me. If you had only stayed away, they’d be here now.”

  “Don’t blame yourself. I desired you the moment I laid eyes on you.”

  I kissed the tears off his face. “And I wanted nothing but to love you and be the wife you should have.”

  He met my eyes. “Then you don’t hate me?”

  I stroked his cropped beard. “I could never hate you.”

  His smile was as sweet as a child with a honey-cake. “If your father hadn’t hated me, we could have been happy together—the way God intended—a man to cleave to his wife and the two shall be one.” He put my hand on his heart. “My heart for yours, Michal.”

  “And mine for yours.” I embraced him, the bergamot scent mingled with my jasmine.

  “Flesh of my flesh.”

  “Bone of my bone.”

  “Two in body.”

  “One in spirit.”

  Chapter 25

  Psalm 127:3 Lo, children are an heritage of the LORD: and the fruit of the womb is his reward.

  >>><<<

  “Found another one.” I laughed. Dust motes danced in the morning light streaming through our window.

  “Ouch,” David yelped. “Do you have to pull them all out?” He shoved a goat-hair pillow at me.

  I thumped it back at him. “Did you know I used one of these to fool my father?”

  “No joking?” He laid his head back on it and kicked up his knees.

  “Its hair was as scruffy as yours. I placed it on top of the cedar Asherah pole, put a blanket over it, and they thought you were sleeping in the bed, dead as a log.”

  “You mean the idol your father’s mysterious woman friend gave us?”

  Veiled from head to toe, the woman had attended our wedding and greeted me with only a squeeze of a hand. “I wonder who she was.”

  “Perhaps she was a war captive he fell in love with, or maybe the witch of Endor.” David wriggled his fingers in a spooky manner.

  I didn’t like the direction of the conversation. “I wonder what happened to the idol after my father stabbed it.”

  “Firewood?” David laid his head in my lap. “Try and find another one.”

  My fingers filtered through his thick hair, sun burnished copper, mixed with cedar and chestnut hues.

  “Here’s another one.” I held it out to him.

  He slapped my hand playfully. “It’s golden, Michal. See how it’s tinted?”

  “It’s hard to tell with the sun shining so brightly. It looked white to me.”

  “You’re cheating. I won’t count it. Seven kisses and not a strand more.” He cupped my face in both hands and kissed me seven times.

  * * *

  I sat with Jehiel, my sons’ tutor, in the scroll room and went over their lessons.

  Jehiel handed me a parchment. “Joel is a bright lad. Here’s a copy of the Ten Commandments written in his own hand.”

  The writing was smooth and precise. I smiled faintly even as my chest rose in pride. Merab would be gratified.

  “And Gaddiel, he’s just starting. Sometimes he daydreams. He’s frustrated that he can’t keep up with Joel.”

  “I’ll speak to him about paying attention. He’s a good boy, but sensitive. Perhaps we can find something he’ll excel in over Joel. Maybe music. Can you arrange for someone to teach him how to play the harp? I can even play duets with him.”

  “That’s an excellent idea,” Jehiel said. “And Eliah. He’s still young. We’re reading stories to him. His favorite is David and Goliath.”

  We both laughed.

  “Now the twins…” A loud clap on the table startled me. Ittai flopped down next to me.

  “Go ahead,” he said, “I wish to hear about my two most favorite boys.”

  “Ittai,” I said, “are Phalti and Anna well?”

  Jehiel cleared his throat. “O Queen. I will find you another day. Joshua and Beraiah are simply delightful boys.” He bowed and departed.

  Ittai clasped my hands and grinned. “I’m glad to be back. I missed you and your boys.”

  “I missed you, too. You never fail to make me laugh. So how are Phalti and Anna?”

  “They are doing well. They miss you, of course, but I told them you were being well cared for. Phaltiel let me hug Anna and ride her on top of my shoulders. She’s so rambunctious, calling for more, more, more. She tired me out. She was so cute. I imagined you must have been a lot like her.”

  My eyes moistened, and a scratch caught in my throat. “Did she ask for me?”

  “Phaltiel tells me she cried for you every night for the first week. But he would dangle the gem and swing it back and forth and she’d stop. Now I think she’s happier. Rizpah…” His voice snagged, and he coughed.

  “What about Rizpah?” My heart squeezed, alerted.

  “She watches over Anna. I hope you don’t mind. Rizpah claims she always wanted a daughter, but sadly your father died before she could bear one.”

  “Is she…” I stopped. What right did I have to question Phalti’s personal life?

  Ittai shifted on the bench. “She seems jumpy around men in general. One time, I came around the corner and almost bumped into her. She must have jumped fifty feet and shook like she saw the devil.”

  I pinched Ittai’s cheekbone. “I can see the resemblance. But does she seem apprehensive around Phalti?”

  “No, they’re good friends. Phalti would never hurt even a grasshopper. Perhaps it’s only men of war she’s afraid of.”

  “Yes. Perhaps.” I remarked drily. Inside, my stomach lurched, and a dull ache settled under my ribcage.

  Ittai lifted my hand and pressed it to his lips. “Anything else you wish me to do?”

  “What would I do without you? Can you give me regular reports?”

  “You’ll never be without me. I’ll keep you apprised, and don’t you worry. They will be safe.”

  * * *

  David and I walked hand in hand through the budding forests surrounding Hebron. “I will be gone the next month to prepare my troops. It is time to push the Philistines out of our territory.”

  I stroked his beard and hugged him. “I agree, but will you be safe?”

  “Isha, don’t spend all your time worrying about me.”

  “I’ll miss you too much.”

  We walked around the base of a huge oak; the trunk must have been two and a half cubits in diameter and the canopy spread as wide as a shrine.

  David put his arm around my waist. “Abraham met angels under this tree. Let’s kneel and pray.”

  The soft spongy litter of leaves and nut caps cushioned our knees. “Oh, LORD God,” he prayed, “our land has been at war, divided and invaded. Grant us this day the fortitude to reclaim it from the Philistines. Let me start in the land of Benjamin, in Gibeah, where the Ark of the Covenant lies. Grant us victory to restore this land to Your glory and reclaim the Ark. Bless us with Your presence in a united Israel. And bless my union with my wife, Michal, daughter of Saul. Give me, I pray, another son, an heir who will join the house of Saul and the house of David in perpetual and undivided peace. In Your name, LORD.”

  I stood, and he remained kneeling at my side, his arms around my hips and his face pressed to my belly. A reverential silence descended amongst the heavy multi-tiered branches. Save for the slight rustling of the leaves, no birds chirped and no animals scuttled. Tears streamed down my face and anointed his hair. David’s prayer touched me deeply. I would never grieve him and tell him about Samuel.

  We returned to our bedchamber, and David asked me to trim his hair and beard to prepare him for war. He lay in a tub of warm water and closed his eyes. His hair had grown long over the winter, hanging down to his shoulders. I cut it all off, pulling and clipping to one finger’s width. The beard proved to be trickier. Where
as the Philistines simply shaved with a razor, our men believed it an abomination to appear shaven: like men wearing women’s clothing. I lay the shears on its side and clipped small patches until his entire beard stood like a shadow the width of a blade of the shears. I hummed a Philistine love song. David had fallen asleep with his head in my arms. Wet, his hair appeared browner than red; his beard and eyebrows were definitely darker than the copper curls lying on the floor.

  I propped him up and took a washcloth and a piece of soap. Sponging the cloth over his body, I ran my fingers over his hard chest and the muscles that strung his shoulders. David opened his eyes and focused intently on me. “Maybe God will answer my prayer tonight. Take off your clothes.”

  My gown and robe pooled at my feet as I stepped into the tub. Our bodies slid together, slippery with soap. We joined in perfect harmony and tempo, mounting a crescendo of chords to a summit of pleasure, erupting in tremors and blessed release.

  * * *

  I settled with my harp under an olive tree. Young Abital, David’s sixth wife, fluttered, birdlike to my side. Her pregnant belly appeared halfway to term, and her usually pale face glowed bright pink. She smiled through straw-colored eyelashes.

  “May I touch it?” she asked.

  “Certainly.” I handed the harp to her and helped her balance it in her lap. She plucked a few strings. Her girlish smile dimpled her cheeks on both sides.

  “My mother had a stringed instrument. It laid flat on her lap and she pushed the strings over little quills to make it sound differently. I wish she had taught me to play before she died.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Where are you from and how old are you?”

  She handed the harp back to me. “When my half-brother was born, my father traded me for a side of beef. The trader brought me here. I come from a land where ice covers the earth for half a year, and the other half of the year, the sun never goes down.”

  “Is that possible? Why would the sun never set?”

  “I don’t know, but that is how it was in our land. I don’t know how old I am. The trader didn’t ask my father, and the man who bought me kept me several years as a daughter. When he thought I was old enough, he gave me to your husband and guaranteed my virginity, the only thing that mattered.”