Michal's Window

by Ayala, Rachelle

  David showed me the throne room. “You and I will be together presiding over the court.”

  Behind the canopy were two golden chairs: one in the center, large and ornate, and a smaller one at the side. I understood my duty, to sit with dignity and respect, portray a royal demeanor, define a subdued and elegant beauty, and intimidate the petitioners by glaring at them when they angered my husband, or look at my husband in admiration when he rendered judgment. My presence would grace his throne, giving it glory like the two golden carved lions that lay at his feet. Perhaps he would ask my opinion, but I would never offer it in public.

  “You, my queen, will be the glory of Israel. There will never be a queen as glorious as you, daughter of Saul. Oh, and from now on, you are to let Nefertira do your hair and face. You will surpass the beauties of Egypt, Babylon, and Assyria.”

  I flashed him a smile but groaned inside. While in Hebron, I had successfully eluded Nefertira. David hadn’t minded then, but now, the stakes were higher. He intended to become an international power, but being an international power meant treaty brides. My heart froze at the prospect. Suddenly, none of this seemed very glorious. A darksome cloud filled me with gnawing dread.

  * * *

  David grappled the ropes, hoisted himself over the wall and dropped outside the palace. He pulled a cloak over his head and headed for the lane of foreigners.

  He was tired of being a hero. Being everyone’s hero meant he was expected to be heroic all of the time. Right now, he wanted to forget. Forget the men whose bloody faces lay stone cold and fish-eyed stiff. Forget the women crying in the streets and the children’s wide-eyed stares. Forget the old men prostrate in the ground, their clothes torn and ashes in their beards. Forget the piercing arrow wounds, the spear-cut gashes and sword-cleaved limbs of his companions while he walked unscathed, with not a scratch, not even a broken toenail.

  And forget the contentions of his wives and their petty, inconsequential demands. Was he not the king? Was he not to have peace? David pounded a fist into his hand and walked toward the tent of purification. He could do what he wanted.

  Captured women, gifted to him by God, paraded in front of him. His commanders chose the fairest ones and presented them to him, purified, cleansed and made beautiful. He would shame them if he refused. And he didn’t wish to refuse. Unknown women took the edge off his pain, sparked his numbness and dissipated his guilt. No expectations, no demands, and definitely no promises. So quick, easy, and pleasurable. He ached for that oblivion, no matter how short-lived. He would forget their names, not bother to ask.

  He refused to look in their eyes. But the facelessness never lasted. And the oblivion he sought never quite removed the stares of resignation, grief, and death. No, there was no satisfaction, no escape, no respite. He longed to crawl out of his skin and vaporize as a puff of dew.

  God, did you know this when you anointed me? Did you know I’d be so weak? Oh, God, did you know?

  * * *

  David stumbled through the door of our bedchamber, reeking of perfume and wine. I turned on the bed and rubbed my eyes. “You’re back late.”

  “So?” He flopped onto the bed and grabbed my neck to kiss me, slobbering over my lips.

  I shoved him aside. “I don’t want to taste another woman. Where did you go tonight?”

  “I don’t have to answer to you.” He swung his legs into the bed and pushed me toward the wall.

  “David.” I tapped his back. “Why am I not enough? Why are you still adding women?” My emotions edged in desperation, I should not have spoken, but I couldn’t keep my tongue still.

  “Can you stop bothering me?” he said.

  “Don’t you love me?”

  He ran both hands through his hair. “This has nothing to do with love. You’re a king’s daughter. Your father took concubines. Did your mother ever bother him?”

  “But you’re not like my father. You’re God’s man, and I thought we loved each other.”

  He blew out of his mouth. “We do, but there are areas in my life I don’t want you to intrude.”

  “But it hurts me. It’s a knife in my heart.”

  He looked at the ceiling. “Just don’t think about it. Now go to sleep.”

  “How can I sleep when I wait for you, wondering where you were, imagining you with somebody else, worried you’d forget me, not love me anymore.”

  “You have nothing to worry about. But I do need to have a large family of heirs. Ithream is not the most robust son I have, and you have not borne me another child, even though I spend more time with you than the others.” The look of frustration that crossed his face stabbed me where I was most vulnerable.

  “But you already have many sons. And God alone anoints the next king. What good did all my father’s sons do for him?”

  “Michal, stop it!”

  I recoiled, shocked when he resorted to my birth name with anger.

  He pounded a fist on the bed. “I bring you back after you lived with Phaltiel, and you think you can tell me how many wives to take, how many children to father?”

  I was defeated. Of course, I had no right. He was the king, the LORD’s anointed. Who was I to chide him? I lowered my face. “I wish you wouldn’t take more women.”

  “Do you want me to stop coming to you? I don’t need this aggravation.” He sat to pull on a robe.

  I tugged at his sleeve. “Please, don’t leave.”

  “You can’t tell me what to do. Maybe I’ve given you too much, spoiled you. None of my other wives pester me.”

  “Oh, David,” I sobbed. “Why am I not enough for you?” I buried my head on his chest. “Do you know how badly it hurts?”

  “You’re a woman. You should accept it. Not be jealous like a man.”

  I could have slapped him. “I feel as intensely as you do. I love you so much I want to die.” My eyes ached behind their sockets, and I squeezed them as tears spilled from the corners.

  His voice softened. “Maybe you are too much for me.” He lifted my chin. “I’ll never forget you betrayed your father and saved my life. Did you ever think what would have happened if you hadn’t let me go?”

  My throat ached, and I stared at him through blurry eyes, recalling the moment he dropped out of my window and out of my life. How I had believed him then. Would it have been better if he’d died?

  “What are you thinking?” He wiped a tear from my face.

  “That I wouldn’t have let you go, if I knew I’d lose you.”

  He gasped and pulled my face to his. “You haven’t lost me.”

  “But you’re not my David anymore.” My chest heaved, heavy with sorrow. My innocent David had left that night, taking my hope, my dreams, and my living heart.

  “Then I should have stayed and been yours forever. Would you have liked that?”

  I couldn’t answer for several moments. The loss overwhelmed me, and I clung to him. “Of course I’d rather you lived than died.”

  He drew me closer, his amber eyes smoldering. “We both died that night.” His fingers tightened around my shoulders. “I want it all back. The way it was. The way it was meant to be.”

  He ripped my nightgown and plunged into my flesh. Love and pain, pain and love, entwined and mated, inseparable. I wrapped my arms and legs around him. “I want you back. All of you.”

  “Someday, it’ll be the two of us. I mean it.”

  A chill constricted my voice. “Why someday? Why not now?”

  “I’m the king and it’s difficult. Can you please understand?”

  “I can try.” I closed my eyes, and a corner of my heart hardened into black pitch. But it might kill my love for you. Poison it. One day I might not care.

  He sniffled and wiped his eyes on my chest. “Can you accept me?”

  I bit the inside of my lips. He was right. Although a part of me disintegrated, I’d accept him, and I’d still care for him, and I’d always love him to the end of eternity and back. No matter what.

  * * *
>
  Standing in front of a pile of bodies, David’s stomach knotted. His breath clung to the back of his throat. He felt as if he hung on the edge of a crumbling cliff. The clamor of voices made his head ache. Why was he so weak? Was this what happened to Saul?

  Abishai and Joab stood at attention. They collected the tally and ordered the bodies burned. Their backs were straight as poles, and their chins were lifted up and strong.

  Did they have nightmares? Or was he the only one. He dared not let them see him flinch. He was the king. He led the charge. He ordered the killing.

  Joab’s face reflected bloodlust. Abishai’s mouth snarled with glee. The rusty, salty tang of blood mingled in the air with the pungent stench of bowel contents and decaying flesh. David’s stomach turned and toppled.

  Why did the killing bother him? He should be used to it by now. These were his enemies, the enemies of God. He carried out God’s will to slaughter them. And God protected him. Other than the scar Saul inflicted on his wedding night, David bore no marks, no wounds of the flesh. And yet he hurt, and he wept inside. Far easier to bear a flesh wound than the one that bruised and battered his soul. The bloody face of the lad lying on the mat in front of him mocked him.

  He’d gone weak.

  Most days it took all the strength he could marshal to lift his sword and push it through another body, someone’s husband, someone’s father, someone’s son. Images of wailing widows, slack-jawed orphans, and hunched mothers meandered under his eyelids.

  “My king, the war captives.” Abishai stood at his face. He leered at the women as he licked his teeth. “Will you grace me with a virgin?”

  David wanted to let them go. He imagined his wives captured and humbled. Or his daughter, precious Tamar. He gritted his teeth. “Take them back to Jerusalem and prepare them.” He turned toward his tent to shut out the sound of weeping women.

  “Kill all women with children, spare only the virgins.” Joab’s throaty voice rang.

  Weakling. Be a man. Look at your nephews. They are proud and strong. They live in the field. You live in a palace, weak with women and catering to their desires, especially Michal.

  Cries turned into shrieks of terror as the men moved to separate mothers from their daughters. He shut his eyes, but a compulsion to look overcame him. A woman, eyes like Michal, blood trailing from her beseeching lips stared at him. The icy chill spread from his neck to the back of his scalp.

  “No!” His eyes widened as a sword sliced her throat. Her crying baby fell from her arms, splattered in her blood.

  David drew his sword. “Let them go. There will be no captives.”

  Joab jutted his chest. “Uncle. The men deserve reward. They fought hard for you.”

  David sheathed his sword and picked up the squalling infant. “There shall be no killing. Take the virgins and let the rest go.”

  Abishai glared at him and cast a disdainful glance that seemed to shout, ‘Weakling.’

  David washed the baby’s face and changed her bloody clothes. She was a tiny girl with light brown curls. Honey brown eyes blinked. She cooed and sucked his finger. He kissed her and smiled for the first time in days. He’d give her to Ahinoam who had miscarried again. He tucked the baby into his robe, willing his jaw to stay still. He had to focus, stay in control: most of all in front of his men, his mighty men.

  They would not follow a weakling.

  * * *

  I lingered at my window and watched for David’s horse. He had been busy. There were tribes to subdue, nations to conquer, allies to be won and enemies to punish. He needed to consolidate his power, expand our borders, and create a buffer of allies.

  I waited anyway.

  When he finally arrived, he brought a train of war captives. They seemed younger than before.

  I didn’t want to argue—I didn’t. But when he came to me that night, he was looking for a fight.

  “Michal, are you happy I’m back?”

  I tugged his neck for a kiss. “Of course I am. Am I not always happy to see you?”

  “I’ve brought war captives. I don’t need them all. What would you think if I were to reward them to my loyal subjects?”

  “Do whatever you want. Aren’t you the king?”

  He grinned. “Yes, but my queen should give me advice.”

  “Free them.”

  “What would be the point of capturing them?”

  “My point exactly. You don’t need them.”

  “Look, I’m being generous today. Come, why don’t we go take a look? I want you to pick one for Ittai. He has served me loyally, and he has no woman.”

  I clenched my teeth. Why would David want to disturb Ittai, who seemed perfectly happy? “Perhaps you should ask Ittai to select one himself.”

  “No, I want your help. Didn’t you always say you wanted nothing but to help me?” He turned my cheek to face him. “Or is there some reason you don’t want to pick one for Ittai?”

  “No reason at all.” My voice squeaked and betrayed me. “He should select one himself. I’m not his mother, you know.”

  “No, you are definitely not his mother. I can tell by the way he looks at you. That’s why I want you to select one for him.”

  “He doesn’t look at me at all. He’s not even my guard anymore.”

  “Maacah says you’ve been carrying on with him.”

  “Oh, and suddenly Maacah’s so believable? Ask her if she gets hot for him herself. Anyway, I haven’t spoken to him since he became your armor bearer.”

  “Well, he’s a horrible armor bearer. I had to save his sorry self. I’m assigning him back to your duty, and I’ll be watching you two carefully.”

  I crossed my arms. “Do what you want. Ittai is not my concern.”

  He grabbed my elbow. “Oh, really? I get the feeling he holds a large chunk of your heart. You know, now that Maacah’s pointed it out, it really was quite obvious.”

  My nerves shot fire over my scalp. “What’s obvious?”

  “He loves you. And he’s smug about it. Despite your coolness and protestations, he holds a fancy for you.”

  I bit my lip. “I can’t help it if one of your servants takes a liking to me.”

  “Ah, it’s more than a liking. He manipulated me to give him your guardianship. When he brought his skills in iron smithing, I asked him what he wanted in return. Do you know what his answer was?”

  Without waiting for me to respond, he continued. “His pick of position. And he chose to be your bodyguard. I thought it funny at the time because I did not imagine you’d reciprocate.”

  “Well, I haven’t.” I turned my back on him to control myself. “Why are you torturing me? Can’t you see I’m desperate for you? You’re the one who lances my heart every time you go to another woman.”

  He grabbed me tightly, bruising my arms. “I will not be desperate for you, like you are for me.”

  “Why, David? Why not?”

  “I need to stay in control, put you in a box. I was almost killed had Joab not saved me. I was thinking about you, Michal, you and Ittai.” He shook me. “Tell me nothing happened, or I’ll die. And don’t lie because I will beat him and rake him with whips.”

  “Maacah’s been lying to you. I have not as much touched Ittai’s hand since he became your armor bearer.”

  “You must want only me,” he said. “Otherwise, I’m putting you in a box and shutting you away. I need to stay in control for the kingdom, for Israel.”

  His twisted visage showed he was already out of control, so I lied. “David, you are in absolute control. See? I only want you.”

  Grappling him with all my might, I fought him with my tongue, my fingers and my legs. We wrestled all night, excruciating love, the kind that bordered on hatred, too anguished to comprehend, fearful and ultimately thrilling.

  He pounded his head on the bed. “Don’t make me love you the way you love me. I cannot allow it. I cannot allow you to have that kind of power over me.”

  I straddled him and grabbed
his neck. “It’s too late. You told me on our wedding night that you intended to possess me wholly, and now you want to draw back? I won’t let you.”

  “You don’t give me peace, only turmoil. I’m the king. I have responsibilities. If I make a mistake, the entire country suffers. I have enough wives to keep me happy.”

  I raked his chest with all ten fingers. “I don’t think so. If you did, you wouldn’t incessantly add more.”

  “They don’t talk back to me. They don’t make demands. They don’t expect anything of me.” He grumbled like a boy resisting his chores.

  I pressed my thumbs over his throat and spoke slowly and clearly, “But they don’t truly love you the way I do. I want to possess you. Are you afraid of me? Would you rather have the white-hot stiletto of a single dagger or the hollow of a thousand lukewarm reeds?”

  David dragged a long, shaky breath. “I want peace in my wives,” he whispered, “and you don’t give me peace.”

  “You’re right.” I encircled his head with the silken threads of my sash. “I am anything but peaceful.” My voice oiled cloyingly, I slid over his body. “But you need me, like you need no other.”

  My arms slithered around him, and I dug my nails into his back. His eyes half-closed, his breathing ragged, I reeled him into my web, my taut, sticky, tangled web. As a woman with eight arms, I trapped David, subduing him with sensual pleasure, until he lay exhausted at my feet.

  He murmured, “Eglah, oh Eglah, love me.” And I had succeeded in putting his demons back into a box.

  For now.

  Chapter 30

  Lamentations 2:1 How hath the LORD covered the daughter of Zion with a cloud in his anger, and cast down from heaven unto the earth the beauty of Israel, and remembered not his footstool in the day of his anger!

  >>><<<

  Ithream, my four year old son, clung to my knees while David gathered his wives and children in a circle and announced, “It is time to bring the Ark of God to Jerusalem. We have subdued our enemies. Why do we leave the Ark of God out in Gibeah when it should be with us in Jerusalem?”