Maacah pulled on David. “Let her go. She’s scared. Leave.”
Tamar’s keening screams pierced the air. David laid her back on the bed and tucked her in. She hid under the blankets. Her mournful shrieks clawed through my heart. David rubbed her shoulders and cradled her head until she calmed.
Her wretched sobs echoed in my ears as I followed David to Ahinoam’s house. Before knocking on the door, he asked me, “How is she?”
“Shouldn’t you decide what you’re going to do about Amnon? Find out the truth?”
“He came to me, asked for permission to have Tamar serve his meals. I never suspected.” His voice cracked, and he leaned his forehead on mine. “It’s my fault.”
“No, you trusted him. It’s all Amnon. What are you going to tell Ahinoam? She’s distraught. Afraid you’ll have Amnon killed.”
While we stood there, Absalom, Tamar’s brother, met us.
“Execute Amnon.” His voice issued like a command. His fist balled at his sides, he glowered at us. “Uphold the Law. Give me permission, and I’ll capture and string him up myself.”
A vein bulged in David’s forehead. “No, Absalom. Leave it to me. Go comfort your mother and sister.”
Absalom stood his ground and crossed his arms. “You tell his mother he’s as good as dead. Then I’ll go to my mother and sister.”
David swatted Absalom’s head. “No son of mine talks to me like this. Go back to your house. Out of my sight.”
Absalom’s eyebrows narrowed. He flipped his long, surly locks and strode off, his fists clenched. That boy was too handsome for his own good. No discipline, no respect.
Ahinoam opened her door. “My lord.” She bowed her head. “I beg mercy of you.”
We stepped in. David put a hand on Ahinoam’s back. “Have you seen Tamar? She’s been destroyed. What would you do in my place if it were your daughter Sarah?” David referred to the infant girl he had rescued and gifted to Ahinoam.
Ahinoam crumbled to the floor and hugged David’s feet. “I will pay. Take me in his stead. Only don’t kill my son—my only surviving son.”
David crouched and hugged her. “He’s my son, too.” While he kissed her and wiped her tears, I stepped out.
* * *
David swam in a pool of blood.
The sword hangs over your house, David. You have sinned against God. The sword will pay you back. You despised the LORD and took the wife of Uriah the Hittite. You’ve slain him with the sword of the Ammonites. Murderer. Adulterer. Rapist.
He cried in the dark. “I’m not a rapist. I treated her kindly. I married her.”
The sword knows, David. The sword will pay you back in kind. God is not mocked, whatsoever a man sows, that shall he reap.
“The sword, the sword… no… no… please God, have mercy. I have sinned, oh LORD forgive me.”
He moved on top of Michal. “I’m not a rapist.”
She opened her arms. “You are not a rapist. Come in unto me, David, and let me love you.”
* * *
My head down, I knocked on Bathsheba’s door. She opened it and stared at me. She was pregnant again, about halfway along. She cupped her hand over her belly and stepped aside to let me enter.
“You heard what happened?” I asked as she handed me a cup of juice.
“Yes, it’s tragic. Why have you come?”
“I need to know,” I said, “and I don’t know how you’ll take it.”
“Say on. I’ve nothing to hide.”
“David feels he is being judged by the LORD. Do you agree?”
She shrugged one shoulder and twisted her lip. “I don’t think on these things. I have my own problems.” She glanced at a round shield and a battle axe mounted on her wall.
“Did you love him? Your husband?”
“Why do you want to know? He’s dead now. He was an honorable man—more so than any of us.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I was precious to him, and I would have been happy. His mother died of a broken heart.” She popped a grape into her mouth and swallowed stiffly. “So what do you want from me?”
“I want to know about David.”
She leaned back, arched an eyebrow and picked at a pomegranate. “You, of all people, know the most about him.”
“I want to know if he’s a rapist.”
Bathsheba dropped the pomegranate. “Heavens, no. Not that I know. Has he raped someone?”
I set the cup down, relieved. “No, he hasn’t.”
“Oh, I see. You wanted to know if he raped me.” She stood and stretched, giving me a full view of her profile. “He’s the most loving, gentle and delicious man I know. He looked for you every night, but you took off with your guard, an uncircumcised Philistine. What kind of wife would do that?”
I stood and turned toward the door. “You don’t know the circumstances.”
“You think maids don’t talk? I gave him what he needed, what he craved.” She opened the door and cradled her belly. “I’m going to have his son, and he’ll be king after his father.”
I grabbed her arm. “Then you’re coming with me to make sacrifice.”
“You dare approach the priests? I thought they’d have your head, daughter of Saul.”
I yanked her out. “Do not make a scene. Perhaps the LORD will forgive us and have mercy on David and his house. Do you want your son to pay?”
Surprisingly she did not resist. One side of her face twitched, and she gulped. A guard escorted us to the altar of burnt offering. I bought two ewe lambs and handed one to Bathsheba. She placed her hand over the lamb’s head and bowed while the priest slashed its throat.
I hugged my lamb. Her warmth and soft wool filled my heart with guilt. I closed my eyes and placed my hand on her innocent head. She nibbled on the hem of my robe before her blood splattered my feet.
“Oh God, I am so sorry. I regret deeply what I did to David, both in words and in deeds. Pray take my sins away and make me a new creature. I trust only in You, LORD, to deliver me from my sins and to save me from the Hell I so deserve. Have mercy on Your servant, David, and his house. Preserve, O LORD, his seed and forgive his sins. In You, LORD, I rest my soul.” I wept with my face in the dust, unaware of Bathsheba’s departure.
That evening, I stood at the window of David’s tower. Families gathered and young lovers walked in the dark. Bathsheba. Cool, faceless, pregnant. She had a future. And I? Did I even have the past?
Alone, no son, no daughter, only a part of David, the part that comforted him and held him through the night. A pet. His pet, Eglah. Did he truly love me when he had all the others?
David did not return, so I went to bed. A recurring dream nagged me: Ittai hugging my feet and telling me he loved me like no one else.
Ittai, I believe you. Where are you?
* * *
The LORD’s judgment sword descended on David’s house.
Absalom held a sheep shearing festival. He invited his brothers to join in the celebration. Too busy to attend, David sent them off with his blessings.
A messenger brought the news. “King David, all your sons are dead. Absalom has slaughtered them all.”
David staggered against the wall. I led him to the women’s quarters, to the gravesites of his young sons and daughters, to Ithream’s grave, to the grave of Bathsheba’s nameless son.
He threw himself on the earth, flat on his face, and hugged the ground. “Tell the others, Michal.”
How could this be? All our sons? Slaughtered like sheep?
Mothers, nurses and maids joined us. A chorus of weeping and screaming resounded on the damp spring earth.
“Mother?” A young male voice spoke.
Haggith cried, “Adonijah? Oh, my son!”
Shephatiah lifted Abital and hugged her. “Mother, it was awful.”
David shook Adonijah. “Tell us what happened, what happened?”
Adonijah gaped, wide-eyed and panic stricken.
Chileab threw himself
into Abigail’s arms. “Absalom killed Amnon. Only Amnon is dead, and Absalom has fled to Geshur.”
Ahinoam fainted. Maacah clutched her face and ran back to her apartment. David picked up Ahinoam and carried her back to her house.
* * *
David prayed and wept on the bed. “O LORD, when will you hear me? Remove your lash from my back. My belly is bruised by your blows. Hear my cry, O LORD. Or I am undone.”
We stared at each other, face to face, eye to eye, nose to nose, separated by a thin veil of tears.
“Are we being judged?”
He nodded.
“You have sinned, haven’t you?”
He nodded again.
“Tell me.”
I waited. His chest heaved with his ragged breath. I stroked the cowlicks in his hair, whorled in multiple directions, finding comfort in the repetitive motion.
He stopped my hand. “I took Bathsheba while Uriah was fighting the Ammonites. I lay with her and made her pregnant. And then I had Uriah killed. I told Joab to send him to the wall, where he fell by the hand of the Ammonites.”
“Murder?” I sat up.
“I have sinned against the LORD,” he cried.
I scuttled away from him. “You killed him. David, why?”
“Don’t leave.” He touched my arm, and I flinched, my back to the wall.
“I can’t. Oh my…” I saw my father’s face, the darkened brows, the twisted features, the sweat drops, the red rimmed eyes. “You’re mad. Why did you kill him?”
“I don’t know.” He covered his face and cowered in the corner. “I was afraid.”
“Afraid of what? You’re the king. You could have asked him to give you his wife. Like you took me from Phalti. What was he going to do?”
“I didn’t want her at first. But he wouldn’t cooperate. He wouldn’t sleep with her and pass the child off as his own.”
“But you could have married her to someone else—or sent them both away with gold and silver. Kings and lords do this all the time.”
“But I wanted my child.” He raised his voice and knocked his head back against the wall.
I paced the room. “I’m afraid. How fearful is the LORD. Well I know. My entire family was destroyed for my father’s sins. Have you asked the LORD to forgive you?”
“Yes, he has forgiven me, but I must still pay. The sword shall never depart from my house.”
“You mean a curse?” A giant hand squeezed my heart and twisted my stomach. Blood swooshed through my ears, the hammer of judgment pounding my head with sharp pains.
“I’m so sorry. So sorry, Michal.” He reached for me. A pitiful look contorted his face.
I clenched my fists. “Was she worth it? Was she?”
“No… I mean…”
“You killed for her. I can’t stay in the same room with a murderer.” I went to the wardrobe and packed my clothes.
“Where are you going?”
“I’ll stay with my maid. Or Abigail. I don’t care.”
“Michal, don’t leave. I can’t live without you. Please…”
I opened the door and dared not look at him. How could the man after God’s heart be a heinous criminal? Had he killed Ittai also? Used the sword of the Philistines to kill my father and Jonathan? Abner? Ishby? By the sword of Joab and Abishai?
“Don’t reject me, my wife. My wife.” David took hold of my skirt, and it tore in his hand.
I walked out.
Chapter 44
Job 16:15 I have sewed sackcloth upon my skin, and defiled my horn in the dust.
>>><<<
The Ark stood underneath a large blue and purple tent. I lowered my head. David’s confession frightened me. The sword of the LORD’s retribution had utterly destroyed my father and wrecked our family. Sensing my discomfort, David put his arm around me and held me tighter.
I still lived with Abigail, but agreed to meet David every morning and evening for the sacrifice. It would be our only time together. He wouldn’t acknowledge me without being veiled, and I refused to share his bed or comfort him without being acknowledged. The Ark was our common ground.
Songs and chants of praises greeted us from the tabernacle. David had set up musicians to play on harp, psalteries, dulcimers, and pipes. I appreciated that music and singing were a part of worship. I still wasn’t sure about exuberant dancing, but surely, the LORD had been pleased with David that day. I hoped the LORD would be merciful today.
“They’re gathering the animals,” David said. “Seven oxen and ten rams. My sins are many and weigh heavily on my soul.”
“Please add a ewe lamb for me.”
The animals were brought amidst the music. We bowed low before the Ark, confessed our sins and asked forgiveness and mercy. David placed his hand on each sacrificial animal as the priest slit its throat.
When it was my turn, I closed my eyes and caressed the little ewe lamb. She chewed her cud, and I thought about Ahinoam, wondering if her heart would ever heal. She went among us as a wraith, drained and dispirited, but she would not make sacrifice nor acknowledge the LORD.
* * *
David pulled me to his writing desk. “Michal, I have repented and written a psalm. Do you want to see it?”
Have mercy upon me, O God, according to thy lovingkindness: according unto the multitude of thy tender mercies blot out my transgressions.
Wash me thoroughly from mine iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin.
For I acknowledge my transgressions: and my sin is ever before me.
Against thee, thee only, have I sinned, and done this evil in thy sight: that thou mightest be justified when thou speakest, and be clear when thou judgest.
“It’s lovely.” I dusted his harp off and handed it to him. “Sing it to me, please.”
Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me.
Cast me not away from thy presence; and take not thy Holy Spirit from me.
Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation; and uphold me with thy free spirit.
I swooned into his arms and kissed him full on the lips.
O Lord, open thou my lips; and my mouth shall shew forth thy praise.
For thou desirest not sacrifice; else would I give it: thou delightest not in burnt offering.
The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit: a broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise.
* * *
Abigail and I sat at the writing table. She pressed the scrolls while I copied.
“David’s new psalm touched my heart deeply,” I said, dipping my pen into the ink.
“Yes, I believe he has truly repented. Why won’t you forgive him?”
I shrugged. “I’m not the LORD, and there’s nothing for me to forgive. I find his behavior reprehensible.”
We jumped at the sound of the door opening. David. His face contorted, he came straight toward Abigail.
“It’s Chileab… He’s been killed,” David said between sobs.
Abigail collapsed in his arms with a wail.
“Killed?” A chill drained down my spine. “How?”
“Stabbed in the field. No one saw anything.”
I raised my voice and cried with them. Chileab was beloved by all, the sweetest, most adorable young man in the kingdom. He looked almost identical to the young David. And now? Killed in cold blood.
The funeral and burial were a blur. During the months afterward, Abigail lay ill in her bed, nothing more than skin and bones. I sat at her side and nursed her. But her health failed.
One day she coughed blood. I asked a servant to fetch David.
“My sister, rest.” I patted her arm. “David is coming.”
She made an effort to smile as I wiped her face with a wet cloth. Ahinoam hovered over her, alternately pacing the room and looking out the window.
David opened the door with a rush of wind and knelt at her side. “Dear Abigail, my wife.”
Abigail sat up with a fit of coughing. “Don’t despair. We’ll see
Chileab again in the house of the LORD.”
I tugged at his sleeve. “Can the doctor do nothing?”
“I’ve called the best physicians, and you’ve given her the medicine daily. We must pray.”
Ahinoam, David and I bowed our heads at the side of Abigail’s bed. We entreated the LORD for her health, to recover her from the sickness, and to comfort her grieving heart. Abigail rested her hand on David’s head and seemed to breathe easier.
But when she leaned back, another bout of coughing caught her. In between wheezes, she said, “I must go… Please… do not grieve.”
David hugged her. “No, Abi, don’t say it. I don’t know how I’d live without you. You always see the good in me. You pray for me. You’re so wonderful to me.”
“You have them. I thank you for taking me in. That day when I met you…” She coughed. “On the road to kill my husband… who beat me and abused me. I so wanted you to kill him.”
“No confessions. You were pure and righteous, more righteous than I. You prevented me from a great sin. I only wish you had been with me when I saw Bathsheba on her rooftop. Then none of this would have happened. Tamar, Amnon, Chileab.”
“David, don’t blame yourself,” she said. “I’ll always remember the day we met. Remember what I said to you?” She coughed until her face turned red.
David held her in his arms and passed his hand gently over her brow. “Don’t talk. You need your strength.”
“I need to talk now… because I’m failing. Hear me, David. I told you the LORD… would make… a sure house for you… for you fight the battles of the LORD… and evil has not been found… in you all your days… Do you still believe me?” The wheezing grew into a rasp.
“Oh Abi, I believe you.” He wiped the spittle from her lips. “I wish I loved you more.”
“You loved me enough. You have dealt bountifully with me.” Her body wracked by another violent spell of coughing, she bowed down breathless. I held the bowl while Ahinoam rubbed her back.
“Abi, don’t go,” David cried. Ahinoam collapsed at her feet and kissed her legs.
Abigail drew a deep breath. “David, The LORD has forgiven you… Else he would have required your life… Why can’t you forgive yourself? Are you… greater than the LORD?”
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