Bitter herbs prickled my chest, and I pounded on him. “You’re right. I am jealous. I’m jealous of all your wives and your sons. I’m jealous because you’re the LORD’s anointed, and you’re favored by God. And I’m jealous because… Ithream’s dead, and I’m nothing but the cursed daughter of Saul.”
David shook his fist. “You want to be favored by the LORD, then you should have come and celebrated the homecoming of his Ark. Your father let it languish all these years. The least you could have done was honor me with your presence. You’re the one who’s despicable.”
He pushed me back into the room. A blinding white light flashed and black dots swirled as an excruciating pain pierced my soul.
I lunged for the open window.
Part III
Chapter 31
Psalm 2:12 Kiss the Son, lest he be angry, and ye perish from the way, when his wrath is kindled but a little. Blessed are all they that put their trust in him.
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David’s heart broke. He expected it to be some momentous feeling, some tremendous agony of thundering pain, a cracking and splitting asunder as the earth in a quake cleaves the ground. Yet, it clicked like the snap of a chicken bone.
He sat at his wife’s bedside. He shouldn’t have been so cruel. They’d had fights before. Nothing had changed, had it? He punched his knotted thigh. Yet this time was different. The breach was momentous, irreparable. She had shamed him in front of his kingdom—despised him and rejected the Ark of the Covenant, the visible presence of God on earth.
He brushed a tendril of hair from her clammy forehead. He had drugged her after she tried to throw herself out of the window. His fingers ached as he touched her. It wasn’t a matter of his forgiveness. No, she needed a pardon from God Almighty.
The dawn broke pale and dreary, a mist hung over the city. It was supposed to have been a day of joy, a day for praising the LORD God of Israel. His city, Jerusalem, the city of God, a holy city. The presence of the Ark would mean peace for Jerusalem. With God’s Almighty power at his side, who could defeat him? Who indeed but a jealous woman?
He had given her no reason to be jealous. He had brought her back from exile, made her queen, given her his bedchamber. He had favored her above his other wives. So why was she so possessive, so intense? He curled her hair around his finger and kissed her. Her breathing shallow, she lay where he had tucked her.
He walked into the sleeping city. Street sweepers cleaned the debris. Rubbing his eyes, he headed to the temporary tent that housed the Ark of God. He removed his robe and sandals, entered, and bowed before the Ark. He waited, meditating on the Word of God.
His mind cleared and refreshed, he prayed, “O LORD, Holy are You who sit between the cherubim, over Your seat of mercy. Have mercy on my wife, Michal. She is a woman void of understanding and full of feeling. Spare Your wrath and take not her life.”
I will spare her life for your sake. Her crown will you give to another. And your heir will issue from another. However, you shall not give her bed to another, for she is bone of your bone and flesh of your flesh, the wife of your covenant. You shall veil her and keep her hidden until her heart is pure for you.
* * *
My body woke to the sudden firing of a thousand flames. Sweat prickled my skin, and my muscles quivered involuntarily. My head throbbed as angry claws dug pincers into my limbs.
David rubbed my arms and hands. “Are you getting your feeling back?”
My fingers twitched violently. I could barely catch my breath. The scream of irritated nerves stabbed every surface of my skin, and those parts that could move writhed in agony. Pain coursed rapidly into waves of nausea.
“What is happening? Am I dying?”
“No, you’re waking from the drug.” David carried me to the bathroom and lowered me into the tub with my clothes on. “Maybe cold water would help.”
“Is this how hell is?”
“I don’t know what else to do.” He kissed my forehead, concern written in his face.
Burning shivers raced through my body, the agony too much to bear. My body howled, and I screamed. David held me as feeling returned in my limbs, each nerve firing with renewed intensity. The long night rolled on.
Morning came with the slant rays of sun. My body had chilled, and the echoing of pain had ebbed to a dull heaviness. David’s face drooped. He laid my head on the pillow and stared at me with sad eyes. A chill squeezed my throat as his fingers slipped from mine.
“Are you leaving me now?” I asked.
The left side of his face twitched. “Things have to change. You’re no longer my queen.”
“It’s over?”
He nodded.
“Oh, David.” My leaden arms wouldn’t move. “I still love you.”
“Don’t.” He cupped my face with both hands, his thumbs rubbing my cheeks. “Don’t say that.”
“But I do, David.” My voice faded with my hope. I’ll always love you.
“You tried to kill yourself.” He rubbed the lump on my aching head and pulled back my hair. “I tackled you before you jumped, and you hit your head on the window ledge.”
Even through my blurred vision, he appeared as radiant as the day I met him. Older, yes. But still handsome. The fine lines etched in the corners of his eyes made him look distinguished, a man of character. His masculine lips stretched beneath whiskers, red and brown, with a sprinkling of silver.
He stroked the back of my neck. “I still remember the first time I saw you in your father’s room. You were a pretty girl, curious and mysterious. I wondered if you were betrothed or had a line of suitors. And I despaired that I, a poor man, could never have your hand.”
Tears swam in my eyes. I held onto his image, memorizing it, and cherishing the proximity I would soon lose.
“You were friendly to me,” he said. “Remember when you helped me with the weapons and armor?”
“Yes.”
“You must know I cared for you back then. I didn’t want to admit it, but I dreamed of you, and when you said I should have a wife who loves me, well, then, I figured you would be the one.”
“Am I still?” A thousand bees stung the inside of my chest. I could not let him go.
“You have affronted God. You’ll be taken care of. Don’t worry.”
“But, David, I can’t live without you. Please forgive me?”
He pulled me up and held me. “You should worry more about God’s forgiveness. Do you trust Him?”
I rubbed my face in his neck. “How can I, when He’s against me?”
David lowered his mouth to my ear. “He’s not against you. He wants you to love, trust, and obey Him with all your heart.”
“He’ll never forgive me, no matter how many lambs I sacrifice. I’m too much of a sinner.”
“He will, Michal. He’ll forgive you if you believe His Word and ask Him to save you from your sins. Will you do that?”
Could I really believe? Would God then favor me also? My glance inquired of David, and the look he gave me was one of pure love and devotion. Would David also favor me again? Maybe love me again if I trusted in the LORD?
“Will He really forgive me? Would He shine his face upon me?”
David squeezed my hand. “If you ask. All you have to do is believe and ask.”
“David?”
He hugged me, almost as if he adored me. “Go ahead. Will you believe?”
I nodded. “I do believe.”
He took both of my hands. “Let’s pray. Ask Him now.”
I bowed my head. “Dear LORD, I’m a sinner. Please save me from my sins. I’m putting my trust in You and want to make peace with You. In Your name, LORD.”
David’s face lit with a wide smile. “He’s forgiven you. Do you feel better? Relieved?”
Peace and comfort floated over my head and shoulders, and a giant knot disintegrated. My chest warmed as if oil anointed my heart. I took a deep breath. “Yes. He’s accepted me. Now I know how you felt when Samuel anointed you
.”
I looked hopefully at David. “Do you forgive me also?”
He palmed my face and kissed me, too tenderly. “I have to go.”
My heart broke into tiny splinters. “David…”
“Goodbye, Michal.” He turned quickly and was gone.
* * *
“The Philistines are back.” Abishai’s face contorted with rage. “You’d think after we decimated their forces they’d stay home and lick their wounds.”
David stroked his beard. “I know Achish, their king. Although he’s old, he is still fierce and ruthless. I suppose he thinks we’d slacken off and send our troops home to tend to their fields.”
“But isn’t that exactly what we’ve done?” Joab said. “The barley harvest draws near, and none but your mighty men are ready for war. Shall we conscript more men?”
Abishai glowered. “The real problem is you harboring the sons of Saul. God will not bless. Let me, my lord, take care of them for you.”
Joab cracked his knuckles. “And the daughter of Saul. I will relish getting my hands around her neck.”
David thumped his scepter on his throne. “Nephews or not. You are not to touch them. I will go to the LORD and inquire.”
“Why inquire when you know what you must do?” Abishai drew his sword. A murderous gleam sparkled in his eyes.
Joab shook a strident finger. “Uncle, it is the LORD’s will. None that pertains to Saul shall live.”
“I will speak to the LORD, and he will answer me. Do not touch them, or their blood will be on your head.”
Joab sauntered off in a manner that showed he was neither cowed nor repentant. David’s hands shook while he paced the chamber. Oh God, help me, help me.
He summoned Ittai who had proven worthless as an armor bearer. Was he capable of defending Michal against Joab and Abishai?
Ittai bowed low to the ground.
“Michal and her boys are in danger,” David said. “Joab and Abishai have advised me to execute them.”
Ittai drew in a sharpened breath. “O King, what will you do?” His tone wavered and sweat popped over his brow.
“We need to protect them. Where do you suggest we hide them? Will they be safe at Phaltiel’s? How many guards do you have there?”
“I have ten Cherethites. I can increase the guards to fifty. All Philistine. They will not follow Joab or Abishai.”
“How old are the boys?”
“The youngest two are ten. I can keep them safe.”
“What about Michal?” David stroked his chin. “What do you recommend?”
“She’s your wife, O King.” His face appeared unchanged.
“That she is. I will keep her in Jerusalem. She will hate me more when I remove her sons from her side, but I will not allow her to go back to Phaltiel.”
“It is as you say, my king.”
David pounded a fist to his cupped hand. “Take the children to Phaltiel. Increase the guard to fifty. Take them in secret during the night.”
“I shall do as you say.” Ittai bowed.
“And guard Michal with your life. I’m sure you will give it your best.” David drew his sword. A sudden surge of bile roiled his chest. “But first, I need to try you. See if you’re capable. To the training ring. Now!”
Ittai’s eyes widened, but he followed David to the armory. David tapped the hard-packed earth with the end of his spear. It would be so swift. Images of Michal’s father, his spear pinned to the wall inches from his head, flitted through his memory.
Ittai approached slowly, his dark face guarded.
“Sword or spear?” David growled.
Ittai tied his long hair with a leather thong. “Your choice, O King.”
“Spears first, then swords. Yell ‘Yield’ or lose your weapon.”
David circled his spear and attacked. Ittai parried the blow and jumped to the side. David swung around and jumped toward Ittai’s back. Ittai pivoted, as lithe as a jaguar. David poked at his heart. Ittai faltered and stepped back but recovered. He brought the shaft down on David’s shoulder. The bone-cracking pain kicked David’s anger up a notch.
David whipped at Ittai, but he dodged, sliding his feet low on the ground. He surprised David by arcing his spear up at the last second, catching the tip of David’s spear. David stumbled and almost lost his weapon. Ittai attacked, hit the side of David’s neck with the shaft and knocked him down. Ittai’s foot landed on David’s spear hand, and he clamped David’s neck with one hand, dripping sweat on his face.
“Not bad, Ittai. Not bad.” David conceded. “Now the sword.”
David swung before Ittai’s sword was halfway out of its sheath. Ittai jumped back quickly. He flashed white teeth and blocked with the hilt. Clash and retreat. Thrust and parry. Iron pounded on iron. Ittai danced like a crazed leopard. Swing, block, turn, thrust. David could not find an opening. The clanging rang like a blacksmith’s hammer amidst their grunts and huffs.
“Yield, Ittai.”
“Never, King.”
David’s muscles burned like hot cords, his shoulders heavy. Ittai kept coming with amazing endurance. David backed up, blocking in defense. It was all he could do to hold off Ittai’s attacks. I will not be defeated by an uncircumcised Philistine, especially one who loves my wife. With a surge of strength, his last ounce, David swung at Ittai’s head.
Ittai blocked but not solidly enough. His wrist twisted. That had to have hurt. David focused his strength and feinted to the left. Ittai stumbled to block the nonexistent blow.
“Michal is mine.” David yelled and thrust the point of his sword into Ittai’s chest.
Ittai clutched his chest and said, “You don’t love her like I do.”
David punched his face. “How dare you? She’s my wife.”
“You don’t care about her.” Ittai gasped for breath. “You have no idea. What. She. Needs.”
David left Ittai passed out in a pool of blood.
Every muscle sore, he dragged himself to his bedchamber. She wasn’t there. Of course. He’d thrown her out. His weakness, his wife, his Michal.
Chapter 32
Psalm 13:1 How long wilt thou forget me, O LORD? for ever? how long wilt thou hide thy face from me?
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The Philistines crossed the border and spread themselves in the Valley of Rephaim.
David bowed before the Ark of the Covenant and prayed, “Dear LORD, God of Israel, the entire nation of the Philistines has gathered against Your people. Grant us the victory for Your name’s sake.”
The LORD answered, Do not go out against them head on. Turn aside behind them and wait near the mulberry trees. When you hear a sound as of going in the treetops, move into battle—for I will have gone before you to smite the host of the Philistines.
David led his troops to the rear of the valley and camped against the mulberry trees. The mighty hosts of the Philistines spanned as far as the eye could see. They had gathered from Gibeon to Gaza, from Askelon to Ashdod, intent on reclaiming the lands they lost.
Joab approached, stomping his feet. “What exactly is the sound of a going?”
David surveyed the valley below. “I will know when I hear it. Wait until I give the signal.”
Abishai’s gaze darkened with his lowered brows. “It’s getting toward dusk. Are we expecting to fight in the night?”
“Patience, nephews. I’ve gone to the LORD, and He has assured us victory. We must obey Him exactly.” David walked away and knelt on the ground.
He closed his eyes to pray. “LORD God, Almighty God, who sits between the cherubim. Grant us the faith and confidence to wait on You and bestir ourselves on Your behalf. Smite the Philistines and grant us the victory. In Your name, LORD.”
The chirping of crickets and subdued night sounds soothed him. He recalled the trip he took with Michal to En-gedi and the badlands of Judah. She had been pregnant with their son Ithream. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. Ithream was Michal’s hope and joy, her only link to him in the fle
sh. His son. Their heir no more. And the LORD promised no other. David closed his fist. His knees ached, and yet he knelt, waiting until his legs were as numb as his heart.
There was no sound except for the coming and going in the camp of the Philistines. David’s men walked around eyeing him. Joab and Abishai tossed stones at the trees and glanced over every few minutes. David lowered his head to listen more intently.
The wind shrilled with a faint whistle. A woman’s sob, her voice lilting, curling and twirling—a long, throaty moan—stirred the leaves above. Michal’s voice, rich in overtones, rose amongst the tops of the trees. The Philistine love song weaved between the branches, drawing the pain of his heart into his throat. David gasped; the twin strands of yearning and regret mated in the caressing breeze.
Michal, my love, my lost love.
An icy fingernail tickled his ears. A whisper, faintly moving sounds. A ghostly march. At the tops of the trees. Marching feet, a woman’s sigh. Michal singing, her words moving, aching, drawing his soul. Marching, marching, marching. The footfalls approached and shook the canopy of leaves—the marching of a hundred thousand spirits.
David raised his hand. “Attack!”
In the dark of the moonlight, the Israelites swarmed. Hordes of Philistines stood as clay soldiers, frozen. Their eyes gaped, silently pleading. But there was no mercy. David’s men gusted through the camp, cutting and thrusting and killing, killing, killing. On and on the Philistines fell as Michal’s voice soared, and the heartbeat of spirits marched through the tops of the trees.
* * *
Arik, David’s guard, stood at my door. Ittai had moved me and my sons to a tiny house outside the palace a few days ago.
“I’ve come to remove your sons,” Arik said.
“No. You can’t do that.” I tried to slam the door, but he wedged his shoulder against the frame.
“King David has given the order. They must leave now. There are men in the highest positions that aim to kill them.”
A sinking curl of fear twisted my gut. “Joab and Abishai?”
“I do not have the authority to reveal this. We have no time to lose.”
Michal's Window Page 33
