Small gagging sounds emitted from his throat. His stiffened fingers clutched my shoulders, my arms, and my breasts. I took his one hand, and then the other. One by one, I caressed the base of his thumb, then his index finger, working my way to the little finger, softening the agonizing ache that radiated from the caverns of his heart.
Slipping out of my gown, I swam against him, around him, on top of him. I dragged my face over his chest and belly, my hands down his sides. I pressed my lips against his hair, forehead, temples, kissed his eyelids and the side his nose. I inhaled his sobs, swallowed his grief, and tasted the bitter fruit, the sting of sin. Hand to hand, mouth to mouth, and eye to eye, I stared into the muddy depths of his misery, consumed his sorrow, absorbing his pain. His anguish pumped deep inside of me, filling and flooding me with a blossoming flush that cried out to the other side of paradise. And I received from David, the ebb and the flow of his heart, love and pain, love and loss, love and hope.
Chapter 42
Song of Solomon 5:16 His mouth is most sweet: yea, he is altogether lovely. This is my beloved, and this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem.
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The thunderstorm broke, and the day dawned bright and promising. I rubbed my eyes while David rolled out of bed. The child would be buried today. I could hardly believe his demeanor when he took his meals. He consumed his food with alacrity and washed down the cakes and bread with wine.
I had drowned in my dreams. A childhood friend I barely remembered ran with me through a yellow field of fennel. I swung around and Merab handed Samuel to me. His face was bright and pink, and Ithream rode on a pony all cheery and light. Then it was all gone, and a sour curl drilled my stomach. I had woken bathed in sweat, a heat wave spread across my chest to meet the chill in the base of my spine.
My heart pounded with a dull thud. A sniffle escaped, and David drew my veil back. “Why are you weeping? While the child was alive I wept because the LORD might have relented. But now he is dead, and I cannot bring him back.”
My breath hitched. Even if I told David about Samuel, he would brush it off. He, who had fathered so many children; what was one insignificant baby?
David tugged my sleeve. “You don’t have to attend.”
“You should go with her.”
He shook his head. “She is but another one of the women. She will stand with her father and grandfather.” He coughed. “I can go alone.”
I walked to the window. Samuel’s burial seemed so long ago, but the pain had not dulled. It stuck like a persistent knife in my ribs right beneath my heart. Again, the sun shone and birds twittered and hopped in the treetops. Again, the world took no note of the passing of a tiny infant.
“You’re thinking about Ithream, aren’t you?”
David needed me. He didn’t have to say it. I would hold his hand. Bathsheba’s relatives would hate him. King or no king. All Jerusalem knew David had fathered the baby. Nathan, the prophet, had pronounced the child’s death. Another child dead because of his father’s sin. Another lamb sacrificed.
“I’ll come with you.” I took his hand.
He adjusted my veil. Hand in hand we made the long walk down the spiral staircase.
* * *
I opened a scroll and dipped my pen into the inkwell. David barged through the door. “I’m going back to war to claim victory over the Ammonites. Pray for me.”
I sheared his hair to a finger’s breadth, more silver than copper.
He ran his hands under my gown and roamed the contours of my body. This time he stepped out of the tub and pulled me to the bed. After we finished, I dressed him, strapped on his weapons, and fitted the crown on his head.
We walked to the palace gate, and he bid me farewell. He stood in front of me, not a penitent mourner or a repentant sinner, but once again, a proud monarch—a fierce warrior, favored by God. His crown glinted in the sunlight as he mounted his horse and rode off with his head held high.
I watched him leave, my heart heavy—my David, so troubled, yet so brave. What horrors lurked in that burdened mind?
David returned a few weeks later laden with treasure. The perfect king, he wore a heavy golden crown set with precious stones. He made Bathsheba his queen and called for seven days of celebration. The perfect leader, he sacrificed in front of the Ark. His wives and concubines stood in a train behind him. The perfect ruler, he distributed cakes and goods to all. His kingdom praised him, and their cheers rang to heaven.
I watched from the window, veiled and alone. No one had any idea why he kept me, why he needed me. My heart ached, but I tightened my fists and held onto my resolve. One day, I would be the only one. Ordained by God, created and consecrated for David, one day he’d only want me.
* * *
The nightmares came back with a vengeance. The Ammonite war concluded with great bloodshed. Every man, woman, and child was put under harrows and axes and cremated in the brick-kilns. The smell of blood and burning flesh must have been horrendous. All for a giant crown of gold.
David moaned and clung to me tighter than Eliah, my third son.
“You need to tell me what is wrong.” I wiped the sweat from his forehead. “I know what you did to the Ammonites.” The words hung in the air. “And before that, the Gittites, the Edomites, the Moabites, shall I continue?”
“They were our enemies. They deserved no mercy.”
“So why does it bother you? Why not be glad?”
His squeezed his eyes shut. “Their faces, their cries. The blood.” His voice broke, and he clutched me as if his life depended on it. “Do you have any idea what a battle is like?”
I rubbed his neck. “No. I’ve never seen one.”
“You must come with me.” He gripped my face with calloused fingers. “I want you to know.”
He kissed me, his rough stubble scratching my lips. “You’re not afraid of me?”
He pressed me onto the bed, and I tore at him, digging, hurting and bruising. We tangled and sparred, pleasure mixed with pain, extracting the penalty before oblivion crumpled him between my arms and legs.
* * *
Rebellion broke out in Gath. David dressed me in leather armor and a veil, put me on a mule and set out for battle. We camped outside of Gath just past a small hill and next to a winding creek.
He sent messengers to the inhabitants to open the gates and bow to him. I prayed Ittai and my sons would not be in there. Rumor had it they camped in the caves in the wilderness.
David returned to the tent, a marked scowl on his face. “Those infidels. They’ve killed the messengers and thrown their bodies over the wall.”
“So what are we going to do? The walls of Gath are unbreakable. How long will we stay out here?” I had to buy time to find Ittai.
David slapped his thigh. “We’re not here to lay a siege, but to teach them a lesson. We start by shooting all the men on the wall. Then we withdraw and let them come out to us.”
“What if they won’t come out?”
“They will. Or we’ll burn their fields. Now wait on this hill behind this rock and watch.”
“But… don’t you have to prepare first?”
He eyed me. “Why do you want me to delay?”
“I… uh… what if? Oh, David…”
“You can’t stand the pressures of war? Pretty little princess, you’re falling apart already. Don’t worry, we won’t offer you in exchange for the king’s head.” He stomped out of the tent, barking orders to his men.
I huddled in the tent, unable to stomach the assault. Yet, I had to know. An unseen hand drew me out.
I climbed a tree and hid in the canopy to watch. Oh, God. Don’t let Ittai be there. He would never have rebelled. Perhaps they had been kicked out, or no… No, they had to be away, camped somewhere else. They’d never be trapped inside a fortress like Gath. No, they were outcasts, men without allegiance, outlaws and wanderers.
David positioned the archers. They sallied up to the city wall and shouted, “Ho there, you
r king is here. Open the gate, or come out and fight.”
David divided his men into three groups and rode with the mounted men toward the gate. Another group of men with bows and arrows arrayed themselves in back of the horses near the hill. Finally, the heavy infantry, armed with spears and swords flanked the horses near the woods.
The Philistine archers on the wall stretched their arms back. A swarm of arrows soared up like hornets. David’s men raised their shields and charged under the first volley. Our archers positioned themselves behind the horses and let loose a barrage of black at closer range. The sound of death pierced the air as men tumbled off the wall.
The trumpet blew, and the gates sprung open. Thundering hooves beat the ground as a mass of chariots and horses charged straight toward us. I clung to the tree, my eyes straining to see, and my heart pounding through my chest.
David and the mounted men surged forward, lances and spears in hand. Our archers launched another volley and pinned the Philistine footmen. The loud clang and screams of the first clash were followed by heavy thuds, cracking sounds, curses and screams. Horses reared, men fell, and chariots turned over. David darted from side to side directing his forces with his sword.
Body after body fell. David’s horse squealed, shafted by a spear. My heart jumped to my throat, and I climbed higher. Covered in blood, David hacked his way through a line of Philistines. One man pulled him down. My breath stopped, but Joab cut the man with a swift blade. David whirled and stabbed another man. The Philistines retreated, peppered by the arrows, and chased by the heavy infantry with pikes and clubs.
“Take them all, let none go alive.” With a renewed roar, the Israelites chased them to the gate. The Philistines could not shut the gates fast enough. David’s men overwhelmed them and barreled into the city.
Carrion birds flew overhead in large circles and fluttered down onto the dying and the dead. A Philistine covered in blood staggered toward me, his mouth open without sound. His eyes beseeched me, a spear stuck in his back. I pulled the spear out and tore his clothes to staunch the bleeding. He laid his head on my lap and stared, his eyes glazed and hollow. Blood trickled out of his mouth as he gasped and shuddered for breath. I smoothed his hair from his face and sang to him. David’s shadow fell on us. He took the man’s hand and covered him with prayers. The life drained out, and the eyes went dull.
And so it went, the entire afternoon and into the evening. I searched the dead, dreading lest I find my son or my friend. We separated the living from the dead, the salvageable from the hopeless. David, exhausted and weary, crawled to each man, murmured prayers in his ears, comforted and heard last words. I ministered to the wounded, tied arms and legs, stuffed wool into the wounds, and helped strap men to litters to be borne by their fellow soldiers. Those were the lucky ones; the others lay on my lap and died. Some mistook me for their mother, others cried for their daughters. I kissed them and told them I loved them and laid their heads gently onto the ground to close their eyes.
The stench of blood and death permeated my skin. By the time we had gathered our wounded, David’s body was drenched in blood: his armor soaked red, his tunic crimson, turning to rust. Blood flaked off my hands and arms, my face sticky where I received dying kisses, my hair stiffened by bloody hands, and my heart relieved that I had recognized none of them.
After giving orders to his men to march back to Jerusalem, David pulled me on the mule and traveled in the opposite direction. Each in our own thoughts, we didn’t talk. We dismounted, and he led me into a rushing river. He grabbed me from behind and dunked me into the water with him.
When I surface, he looked like a different man. The shadows of war had been washed away. He smirked with boyish charm. “Now, after all the fighting, comes the fun.”
The cold water had lightened my mood also. “Fun? Do you always have fun when you fight?”
“We usually vow not to touch a woman.”
I splashed water in his face. “And what am I, a fish?”
“You’re a slippery one, now fight me. I won’t let you get away.”
I pushed and threw my shoulder into his gut, then splashed down the river, stumbling over the rocks. He caught me, tackled me in a pool underneath a spray, and dragged me down. My eyes popping from holding my breath, I clawed at his legs and kicked until he swung me to the surface. I coughed and spat in his face, and he laughed.
“You’re my war captive tonight.” He swept me in his arms and carried me out of the water, laying me down on a blanket of leaves. He bent over me like a conqueror and opened my legs.
“Why do I have to be the captive? Does this make you feel bigger, like you’re always on top?”
“You’re talking too much.” He bent his head down and kissed the inside of my thighs. “Or would you rather I talk?”
I mumbled something incoherent as he nuzzled me and put his talking muscles to a different task. A warm rumble threatened to overshadow me, and I squirmed and twisted. The leaves tickled my back, and his beard scratched my thighs. His mouth was most sweet and his tongue full of honey. As a spoil of war, I surrendered to his mastery over my body.
Chapter 43
Colossians 3:25 But he that doeth wrong shall receive for the wrong which he hath done: and there is no respect of persons.
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My sandals slapped on the stones of the women’s courtyard. Birds chirped and flitted in the large bay tree. The air smelled sweet and spicy, a mixture of jasmine, myrtle and camphor. With new parchments under my arm, I prepared for a peaceful day of writing. I had my own story to tell in addition to David’s turbulent one.
Abital tore around the fountain and clutched my robe. Haggith and Abigail followed close behind.
“My birds are lost,” Abital said. “They flew away.”
“The curse is upon our heads.” Haggith waved her arms, her hair wild and frizzed.
“Haggith, stop fanning fears,” Abigail said. Tears streamed down her face, and she wiped it hurriedly with the back of her wrist.
“I don’t care what you say. This family is cursed.” Two spots of color reddened Haggith’s cheeks.
“Wait, wait,” I said. “What’s happened?”
Abigail drew me aside. “Tamar, Maacah’s daughter, was raped by Amnon, Ahinoam’s son.”
Tamar. David’s favorite daughter. Beautiful, meek Tamar. How could this happen? And Amnon, polite and charming. He seemed harmless.
I ran to Ahinoam’s door, trailed by Haggith and Abigail.
“She’s not talking to anyone.” Haggith said.
I pounded on the door. “Ahi, Ahi, open up. It’s me, Michal.”
“Go away,” she cried from inside.
“Please, Ahi, let me talk to you.”
“She won’t even talk to Abigail. It’s no use.” Haggith stomped off.
“Ahi,” Abigail said in a soft voice, “Haggith is gone now, may we come in?”
The door opened, and we entered. Ahinoam’s eyes were bright red, her hair unkempt, and her lips cracked.
“It is not your fault.” I patted her hand. “What happened?”
“I don’t know. I thought Amnon was in love with her. He was always swooning over her, wishing she was not his sister. I told him to look elsewhere. I can hardly believe it. But if it is true, there is no excuse.”
“There’s never any excuse for rape,” Abigail said, her voice choked and harsh.
“But it’s not like Ahi did it,” I said. “Where’s your son now?”
“He’s at his house. Do you think David will have him executed?” A fresh set of tears sprinkled from her eyes. “He’s my only son.”
“Oh, Ahi, I grieve for your heart.” Abigail clutched Ahinoam, and they cried together.
I didn’t know what to say. Rape was reprehensible, no matter the circumstances. David would have to be the judge. I left them and went to see Maacah, Tamar’s mother.
Maacah pulled me through the door. A grim line of hate replaced her usual sultry pout. Her sta
re pierced through a tangled mat of dusky hair, her face smeared with a mixture of tears and kohl.
I placed a hand on her shoulder. “Tell me what happened.”
“Amnon tricked her. He said he was sick, that only Tamar could tend to him to regain his health. He forced her and threw her out like a harlot. Michal, tell David to kill him, to uphold your Hebrew Law.”
She clutched the front of my robe and pulled me against her. Her gaze locked on mine, tears swimming in her eyes. “She was only fourteen. Remind David she was a virgin and a child.”
Muffled sobs came from Maacah’s bed. Tamar hid under the covers with Haggith at her side. I rubbed her back. She trembled and shook, her hands clutching and unclutching the bedcovers, her face hidden.
I lowered my head. “Dear LORD, please look on Your handmaiden, Tamar, a precious lamb. There is no hole too deep Your love cannot fill, no place too far You cannot go. Give her the balm of Your comfort. Hold her close with Your salvation and strengthen her with courage. In Your name we pray, LORD.”
* * *
I did not relish breaking the news to David, but they expected it of me. By the covenant, their children were my children and hence my responsibility. I breathed a prayer to the LORD and sent a messenger to David to meet me at our bedchamber.
The door opened with a bang. David rushed in, breathless, his crown hung at an angle.
“What happened? The messenger said you had an urgent message for me.”
I threw my arms around him. “David, sit down.”
“Tell me, what’s happened?”
My chest heaved, and I let it out in one breath. “Tamar’s been raped.”
David staggered. “No! No! Who?”
“Your son, Amnon.” I held him as the blood drained from his face.
“Amnon?” His eyes bulged. He tore out of my grasp and headed for the door.
I ran after him. “David, what will you do?”
He barged into Maacah’s house. “Tamar, Tamar, my daughter.”
David pulled Tamar into his arms. She kicked and scratched his face and thrashed without regard to her father.
Michal's Window Page 43
