Michal's Window

by Ayala, Rachelle

  David sat and clutched his throat, gulping for breath. Fresh air. He crawled to the flap and snatched it open.

  The night bugs chirped, and all was peaceful in the forest. But his mind raged. “You can’t hate me. You can’t.”

  “David?” Her hand found his. “Did you have a nightmare?”

  He buried his face in her arms. “Don’t hate me, Michal. I can’t bear it.”

  She hugged him from the back. “I don’t hate you.”

  “But I’ve been horrid to you. I tore apart your family because I wanted you for myself.”

  She pulled him to the bedding beside her.

  “And I drove Ittai away and cut his face. And then your sons followed him into exile.”

  She cuddled herself against him.

  “I’ve killed innocent villagers. Leveled entire towns. Did it all in God’s name.”

  She caressed his shoulders and kissed his neck.

  “And I allowed women to be killed while taken captive. I turned away from their pleading cries.”

  She swallowed and stiffened but did not push him away.

  “And I’ve hurt you the most. You were my bride. My virgin bride, the one I wanted to build my life around. And I destroyed your life.”

  She rubbed his head and kissed his hair. “I don’t hate you, David.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut. Oh, you would hate me if you knew what I’d done.

  “What if I’m a madman? Would you still care for me?” His entire body shook as angry stones pummeled his heart and wracked his body with sobs.

  Michal enveloped him, her long arms and legs around him, and pressed him to the sleeping mat. She stroked his temple and stared in his eyes. “You’re not a madman. You’re troubled, very troubled. But you’re not like my father was.”

  “You believe that?”

  “Yes, God’s Spirit abides in you.”

  “I cannot sleep more than an hour. And when I sleep, I fall into a chasm, and my soul is sucked into darkness. A thousand claws tear at me, and the shrieks rip my eardrums. Why?”

  “I don’t know.” She ran her fingernail down the scar her father gave him. “It is so hard to be the king. God expects so much from a king.”

  Sweat popped over David’s face. “I don’t ever want to sleep again.”

  “Then don’t sleep. I’ll stay with you. I’ll keep you awake.”

  He clutched onto her as a babe would to his mother.

  “Relax and I’ll sing for you.” She held his head between her breasts and sang. Her lilting voice blew through the tops of the trees and carried the sound of marching feet, steady as the primordial heartbeat that calmed him in the womb of her love.

  * * *

  The next morning dawned misty and cool. David stretched and yawned. He had slept the rest of the night without disturbance. He propped over Michal and kissed her, but she yawned and pulled the blankets over her head.

  David left her to go fishing. Would she still love her if she knew how evil he had become? How could he tell her? He pulled a fish out of the water and watched it flop to its death.

  He returned to find her sitting on a rock. Silently, he roasted the fish, then handed her a fish and a piece of bread. Today, he’d show her his kingdom and convince her of his love.

  They ascended a mountainous trail. The last peak was too steep for the horse. David tied the horse to a juniper tree and helped Michal climb over boulders and rock faces. She clung to him, sweat staining her dress and dampening her hair.

  The silence of the summit drew his breath away. He held her, his heart to her back, and he waited, letting the grandeur of the view impress her. Down below, the sparkling ribbon of the Jordan River traced itself from the azure highlands of the Sea of Chinnereth to the vague, distant cliffs of the Salt Sea.

  To the west, the tops of Mt. Tabor and Mt. Gilboa rose like shoulders above the clouds. He pointed. “The mount where your father and your brothers went to meet the LORD.”

  She shielded her eyes and said nothing. To the left, Mt. Ebal and Mt. Gerizim poked their heads above scarred and wrinkled foothills.

  David swept his hand northward. The Sea of Chinnereth gleamed dark-blue and placid, framed by fertile valleys and rich plains, dotted by towns and settlements. “Do you see that white mount way up there, to the right? Mt. Hermon.”

  She sucked in her breath. “It looks like the Prophet Samuel: white hair, beard, and mantle of glistening snow. I remember being scared of him. Have you been there?”

  “We conquered all the way to Damascus, but I’ve never climbed it. I rule the land from the River Euphrates to the Salt Sea and beyond.”

  He tilted her head back. “I would give it all to be back in your heart again. I would.”

  His lips hovered over hers. So close. She averted her face. “You’re God’s anointed. You have a mission.”

  David’s fists clenched, and he bit the insides of his cheeks. So, she didn’t want his heart. What was left? He stepped forward to the edge. Michal shivered and backed against him.

  “What if we walked over the edge?” he whispered. “Oh, that we had wings like a dove! For then we would fly away and be at rest.”

  “You’re scaring me,” she said. “This place is so remote.”

  He tucked her back in his arms and squeezed. “Let’s fly over the white mountain to the Black Sea and live in a castle of jade, up in the pines where the scent is fresh, high above all clamor, pain, and trouble.”

  Her voice dropped, suddenly sad. “I wish it could be.”

  David tilted her chin and kissed her, so achingly sweet. She held her breath, and he brushed her satiny lips again, encouraged that she hadn’t pulled away. Afraid to deepen the kiss, he relished the feeling, soft and full, mingled with the taste of mint and the scent of jasmine. He moistened the kiss, and she exhaled with a soft hum, filling him with a whiff of hope as he slowly nibbled and tugged her lower lip, deliberately pausing after letting her have a taste of his tongue.

  Her sharp intake of breath heartened him, and he pressed his advantage. His hands roamed down her spine and around her lower back. Her body softened, and she wobbled.

  Her half-open eyes moistened, and her heart seemingly teetered on the verge of opening. Would she trust him again? Pebbles fell off the edge of the cliff. A twisted sensation prodded him. He had only to push. Would she know he had done it, or would she think she had lost her balance? Would those eyes reproach him all the way down?

  Oh God, what is happening to me? Am I a murderer? David closed his fist and pulled back from the edge, sending a stream of pebbles clattering into the precipice.

  Michal’s jaw quivered, and she didn’t look him in the eye. His heart smote. Fly away and be free. Wander far off and never return. Oh, to escape the windy storm, the tempest, the siren of the seductress. A dry and dusty wind whipped his face. He ground his teeth to shut out the howls of guilt, of regret, of despair. Oh, what have I done? Oh, God, if I could only take back that note, I would. Oh, God, don’t let Uriah die for my sins.

  The sun lowered in the west. Picking their way down in the dark would be treacherous. David took her hand. “I’ll help you climb down. I won’t let you fall.”

  She threaded her fingers between his and leaned on his arm. His heart expanded and warm relief swelled his chest. She still trusted him. But what about Uriah? If she knew…

  Once they were below the tree-line, he pitched the tent beneath fragrant pine trees. After a meal of fish and wild berries, they sat in front of the fire. Michal hummed to herself as David threw twigs into the fire.

  “Eglah, I wasn’t always mean and horrible.”

  Michal stopped humming and stared at him. “Why are we talking about mean and horrible?”

  Still staring at the fire, David said, “When I was a boy I dreamed great things. I wasn’t satisfied to be a farmer or a shepherd or even a scribe. I wanted to reform Israel, to make it glorious and grand: greater than the Philistines, greater than the Syrians, even greater than all
of Egypt. I listened to the tales of the caravans. And I dreamed of traveling to faraway places and bringing back horses, chariots, and weapons.”

  “It seems you are doing exactly what you dreamed of. You’ve conquered much of the known territories, the land God granted to Father Abraham.”

  “I never dreamed it would be so bloody.” David covered his face.

  Michal put her hands on his shoulders. “It has to be, Ishi. God is a consuming fire.”

  “I pursued them, overtook them and utterly consumed them. It sounds easy, but when you’re actually there: the body parts, the stench of blood and guts, the flesh-picking birds. When you’re covered with their blood—you don’t want to look in their eyes. Never look in their eyes.”

  She rubbed his neck. “You didn’t know all this the day you set out to be a hero.”

  “Ambition is a strange thing, isn’t it?” He laughed and his throat constricted.

  “But you’ve done a lot of good. And God is with you.”

  “What use is the good if it’s all wiped out by evil?”

  She touched his lip with one finger. “You overcome evil by good. It’s what you’ve always done. Especially with my father, and with me.”

  What if I were the evil one? How do I overcome that? David covered his face and hunched his shoulders. A blanket of heaviness covered him, and he was tired, so very, very tired.

  The fire crackled, dying into the glow of tiny orange embers.

  Michal dropped her hand. “What’s bothering you?”

  He rubbed his eyes. If she knew, she would run screaming from him.

  “You can’t hide from me,” she said. “You’ve done something, haven’t you?”

  “Like you said, being king is hard, and I’m tired. Let’s move into the tent.” David would not look at her. He couldn’t tell her. Would to God he’d have peace. He let the darkness envelope him.

  He dreamed.

  The young princess held his hand. You should have a wife who loves you.

  He smiled. Yes, and that would be you.

  She shook her head. If it were me, why are you still looking? Perhaps you should have a wife whom you love.

  A wife who loves me.

  Nay, a wife whom you love.

  David woke. A wife whom I love. But do I know how?

  * * *

  The morning mist evaporated with scents of honeysuckle and wild jasmine. Splashes of color highlighted the valley below. Dense spots of red poppy stained the meadows of silken grasses: a trail of blood leading toward the deep green riverbank, pierced in the center with a silver sword of water.

  David and Michal descended from the ridges. The stands of oaks and walnut trees that flourished in the vicinity of the streams gave way to fields cultivated with wheat or lush green meadows full of sheep and cattle. These were the rolling hills the children of Gad and Manasseh had begged of Moses to allow them to settle: east of the Jordan, much fairer and more fertile than the severe hills of Judah and Benjamin.

  A walnut tree with a dense canopy shaded them. David picked vines of yellow honeysuckle and twined them around Michal’s head. She threw them off and wrapped them around his neck. “David, David, the Philistines be upon you.”

  Her laughter cheered his heart, and he allowed her to entangle him. “And I am willingly joined to you, my wife. Whatever God has joined together, let no man pull asunder.”

  “No man, David. Not even you.” She reeled him in, and they kissed for a long moment.

  They wound their way toward the Sea of Chinnereth. The fields, watered by full streams, were green with wheat and barley. Abundant balsam trees and thorn bushes grew along the path hedged by stands of pistachios and almonds. Gazelles sprang and bounded their way along tiny brooks where the grass grew thick and lush, and tall weeds and trailing vines covered the flowing water.

  David took Michal to the edge of a brook. He’d pretend they were young again, with not a care in their hearts. Young and free. He drew five smooth stones and placed them in her hand. “You are my living brook, and with these five stones I wed you again. Will you marry me?”

  She picked a single small stone, a green moss-colored one, and handed the other four back to him. “I will marry you again.” She touched the stone to his heart and kissed it. “And I’ll never throw this one away.”

  David lifted her and swung her around. They laughed until they were breathless, and they kissed until they wept.

  Late in the afternoon, they crossed a dozen murmuring streams crowned with the rosy bloom of giant stands of oleanders and came to a stone basin where a spring gushed from the hillside. Villagers gathered there to fill their pitchers and water skins.

  David let the horse drink, and they chatted with the villagers, buying strips of beef, cheese and bread. An old man pointed to a cairn of rocks. “Long ago, the Canaanites sacrificed there. You can still hear them cry. Cursed.”

  The village women ignored him, and a small knot of boys threw stones at him. He shook his walking stick at them. “One of these nights…”

  David chuckled and gave him a silver coin. He pointed his horse toward the deserted rock structure. Small shrubs poked their heads above the cracks of the rocks.

  Michal flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking of camping there tonight.”

  “How did you guess?” David found a flat area sheltered beneath a domed table. The wind off the lake kicked, but the rock face shielded them. He pitched the tent, made a fire and roasted the beef.

  After dinner, he snuck up behind her and jumped.

  She started with a yelp and punched his arm. “You brought me here to scare me.”

  He turned her on top of him. “I want you trembling in my arms when I fill your soul.”

  The wind whistled through the cairn, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. Her skin dotted with goose bumps as David slowly brought her mouth down to his. His fingers wove into her hair. “You are the wife I love. Will you stay with me?”

  Michal stroked his beard. “I thought we wouldn’t talk.”

  “But I have to know, before we… I don’t want to ever hurt you again. I promise.”

  She traced his lips with her little finger. “Don’t. You’re all about vows and promises, glory and pride. You will hurt me again. I know it.”

  Her words cut him, and pain encircled his waist.

  “So, you won’t come back with me?” He kissed her fingers.

  She blinked and regarded him with moist eyes. “I’m your wife. I will follow you wherever you lead, and I will care for you.”

  “Why do you care for a monster?” He covered his eyes with his forearm.

  “You’re not a monster.”

  “But what if I were?”

  “You’d still be you, David. The boy who wanted to be better.”

  He gulped and hugged her tightly. “I do want to be better. I do.”

  Chapter 40

  Proverbs 6:16-17 These six things doth the LORD hate: yea, seven are an abomination unto him: A proud look, a lying tongue, and hands that shed innocent blood,

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  David knelt on the top of his palace wall, turning his face toward the east. He bowed his head, but he had no words for the LORD. He tried a song of praise. His lips felt dry. He gave thanks, but his stomach growled. At least Michal had returned. He could be thankful for that. And the nightmares had ceased.

  After a hectic day in the throne room, David returned to find Michal at her writing table. Her hair shone with amber highlights from their week in the sun.

  She greeted him with a warm kiss, and he handed her a bouquet of lilies. The smile on her face melted his heart. He knelt in front of her lap.

  “David, what are you doing?” She fondled his hair and raised his face.

  “I’m so grateful you’ve returned with me.” Tears blurred his vision as he slipped a necklace out of his pocket. “Put this on.”

  She drew in a sharp breath. “It’s exquisite.” Diamonds encircle
d the necklace and eighteen pear-shaped emeralds dangled off in intervals between diamond flowers set in white gold. While she put on the necklace, David fumbled for the matching earrings. Michal laughed and expertly looped them into the tiny holes in her earlobes.

  David backed up to admire her. “Eglah, can you trust me again? Believe me?”

  She paused and pierced him with narrowed eyes. “Why are you showering me with jewelry? Why shouldn’t I trust you?”

  Sweat moistened his palms. He should let her know about Uriah, his fears and his failings. He licked his lips. “I… have… Can I trust you to… care? If I tell you…”

  “Tell me what? Is it Ittai? My sons? What have you done?”

  He set his jaw. “They’re fine. Why are you asking?”

  She lowered her brows. “I was afraid to ask. But you seem to have something on your mind.”

  “I wouldn’t hurt them. Trust me.”

  She grimaced and removed the necklace. “Because if this is blood money, I don’t want it.”

  “It’s not. I swear to you.” His hands trembled. “Oh, Eglah, believe me.”

  Rough pounding on the door startled them. His advisor Hushai stood with a drawn face. A man behind him wrung his hands. David’s stomach clenched.

  “I have a messenger from Joab,” Hushai said without preamble.

  The blood drained from David’s head, and his hands grew cold. The messenger bowed low. “O King, do not be distressed. We gained ground on the Ammonites. They came out to fight us, and some of your mighty men rushed them, forcing them back to their gate. Archers killed a few of them.”

  “How can that be? Didn’t they know not to go close to the wall?” David asked.

  “They thought to bust through the gate. They were the most valiant of men. Particularly Uriah. Uriah, the Hittite, is among the dead.”

  A chill like a nest of hatching spiders crawled over his skull and tightened around his head. Michal held him around his waist from behind.

  David stiffened his lip. “Say to Joab not to be distressed. It is the vagaries of war. Make the battle stronger against the city and overthrow it. Encourage him with my words.”