David bent as if dragging a heavy load, the wages of sin. Falling down, he crawled on his hands and knees to the top of the broken hill. He collapsed, a man of sorrows, full of grief.
* * *
After David finished praying, he sent the Ark back to Jerusalem. Ziba, an old servant of my father, met us with donkeys and provisions. David ordered the donkeys to be given to his oldest wives.
Once mounted, we took the road to Bahurim, the same road where I gave Anna to Phalti. As everyone shuffled by, I turned and stared at the bend where the stream crossed near the wall. Phalti’s sad eyes bore into my soul. Anna sucked her thumb, dark brown ringlets framed her face. Her bright red lips puckered. She rubbed her eyes and pushed her face into Phalti’s neck.
Abital pushed her donkey close to mine. “Will Buzzi be all right? Miriam said she’d take care of him. Oh, but what if he misses me? I hope she remembers to feed him.”
Her attention easily deflected, she observed the trees, the wild birds, the countryside and the terrain, all new sights for her.
Maacah, Absalom’s mother, stayed back as far from Ahinoam as she could. Her face tight, she looked like she hadn’t slept for days. Ahinoam wore a similarly resigned look. Her long hair covered her face as she rode with a lowered head. Sarah, her adopted daughter, walked at her side.
Haggith pulled up to me. “Bathsheba doesn’t want to come along, believe me. She has set herself up no matter which way the wind turns.” Haggith sniffed the air. “Where is she anyway?”
“Her grandfather was David’s trusted advisor, I’m sure she was only obeying him.” I turned away from her and concentrated on the narrow, rocky trail. Flies buzzed and bit us as we plodded toward the Jordan Valley. We were not welcome in any of the towns and villages we passed. The residents threw sticks and stones at us. They cursed David and accused him of usurping the throne from my father. In a perverse way, I was proud they remembered him but sad that David had not captured the people’s hearts.
* * *
That evening, we set camp in front of the Jordan River. Sounds of galloping horses thundered toward us. Were Absalom’s men closing in? If they came after us right now, we would for sure be slaughtered. We were weak, weary, and dispirited after our hasty flight.
Shouts rang through the camp. “Quickly, saddle up. We must cross the Jordan now. It is too deep and rocky for the wagons, so everyone must ride or wade.”
Babies cried, and children clung to their mothers as they tumbled out of the wagons. Bathsheba’s nurse-maid struggled with Bathsheba’s four sons, an infant and toddler, and two older boys, Solomon and Nathan. Since their birth mother was not present, the nurse turned to me for help. David had required me to hold each infant soon after birth, as if bestowing me a gift with each child he had.
I bestirred my sister wives to help. Haggith turned away, but Abital stepped after me to the wagon, as did Ahinoam and Sarah. The servants handed us mules in exchange for the donkeys that were too short to bear us above the river’s rising tide.
The four of us set off, each with a young son of David in our charge. I took Solomon, Ahinoam had Nathan, Sarah grabbed the squirming toddler, and Abital carried the baby. The nurse loaded the children’s supplies onto donkeys and followed the other servants to the ford.
Solomon and I kicked off into the river. The swell of the water came up to the chests of our animals, making the crossing slow and not without danger. Several times, when the vanguard came to a rocky place, they would slow down and be bumped by those behind.
Solomon was around ten years old, a small, thin boy. I had taken care of him when Bathsheba was pregnant with Nathan. Later, David oftentimes left Solomon with me to explain the Word of God to him. Even though he was not the heir, having so many brothers older than he, he was dear to my heart. A pensive, serious boy, he paid attention to everything I taught him and read out of the scrolls diligently. I loved the boy. If I couldn’t have the love of his father, at least his son would love me. I called him Lemuel. It was our secret, and it rhymed with Samuel.
Our mule kicked another one that scraped too close. When he lunged to nip the other animal, we fell into the water. Cold shock slapped me as I landed on a rock. I grabbed Solomon and hoisted him back on the mule. A swell of water swept me down, and I hit my head. Bubbles blurred my vision. I couldn’t tell up from down.
“Auntie, over here,” Solomon yelled.
He stopped the mule in the middle of the river. I grabbed a strap and helped myself up, resting my head on the mule while catching my breath.
“Are you okay, Auntie?” he asked.
“Yes. Am I not Saul’s daughter? Of course, I’m fine.”
Solomon and I were the last to emerge from the Jordon. I pulled him off the mule and gave thanks to the LORD. We huddled together, smelling like wet straw. His teeth chattering, he kissed me and held onto me with bony arms. A flood of love warmed me, and I thanked David for bestowing all his children to my care. Footsteps crackled the leaves behind me.
“Solomon, my son.” David picked him up and kissed him. He asked a manservant to find him a change of clothing.
A pang tripped my heart. He acted as if he hadn’t seen me. I led the mule to a grassy slope and wrung out my dress. Hot tears dropped on my hands. He could have at least thanked me.
While I shivered, a pair of hands draped a cloak over my wet clothes. “Eg-lah…”
My pulse responded with a quiver, and I bowed to the ground. “My lord, king.”
David raised me. “Why so formal?”
“You told me to stay away from you.” I trembled from the cold and my proximity to him.
He squeezed my arm. “It’ll only be a little while longer. You know it’s because of Joab and Abishai. I need their support.” He pulled me into his arms. “Maybe after this rebellion is over…” Fingering my wet hair, he kissed me, long and hard.
I clung to him, not wanting to let go, not daring to hope. Would he really consider restoring me after the rebellion? Could I take any more disappointments? I shuddered and clutched tighter.
A manservant cleared his throat. “My lord, the scouts report a troop to the south.”
David wrapped his cloak around my shoulders. “Take care of yourself, my love.”
I tucked my face into his cloak, still warm with his scent. It was the color of pine leaves, embroidered with vines and green grapes in bright, moss-green thread, a vine of life, full of hope.
* * *
David’s spies informed us we were welcome in Mahanaim, the place where my brother Ishbaal ruled and where I lived with Phalti so long ago. Without rest, we rode through the night guided by the moon. At the break of dawn, we rounded the familiar outcropping and stopped at the city gates. It hadn’t changed much. The walls were shabbier, and the gates hung at an odd angle. Tall stands of fir trees waved in the breeze, their clean fragrance refreshing and inviting.
Men bowed to David: Machir, Anna’s husband, and Barzillai, the grandfather of Merab’s sons, Shobi the Ammonite, and Phalti. My heart ached at the sight of him. He was still a large and handsome man, although his hair and beard had greyed. I stood too far away to greet him, and he soon disappeared with David and his advisors behind the palace gate.
The battle plan became clear in the next few days. David gathered the people into the city behind the gates. He did not want to subject the city to a siege, so he sent troops to meet Absalom’s forces out in the field. He wanted to lead the charge, but the people begged and pleaded with him to stay. A great outcry of love poured out of our mouths, and David relented.
As the men of war filed out of the city, David ordered them to deal gently with Absalom. Each warrior heard David’s order to capture Absalom alive and not hurt a hair of his head.
David stayed by the gate all day. I didn’t know what went through his mind as he watched and waited. No matter the outcome, he would be the loser. I longed to go to him, but his counselors surrounded him. As the hated daughter of Saul, I couldn’t be seen wi
th him.
The sun traveled to the west. King David stood on the highest part of the gate and maintained a solitary vigil.
* * *
A loud cheer erupted in front of the gate. “Long live the king! His enemies are dead!” I hugged Abital and Ahinoam, and we jumped and cheered with the rest of the people. We milled with the crowd to the gate, but were met with silence.
“Wasn’t the news good?” I asked a guard. He pointed to the top of the gate.
David pounded his hands on the wall and wailed, “O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom! Would God I had died for you. O Absalom, my son, my son!”
News spread from mouth to mouth. Absalom was dead. We were safe, but David had been stabbed. Three darts into the heart of Absalom drained his life-blood. Three darts into the heart of King David: Amnon, Chileab, Absalom. They killed his spirit. Oh God, please spare David from more grief. Hadn’t he paid enough? LORD, withhold not your tender mercies and loving-kindness from my husband.
David howled deep into the evening. One by one, he summoned his wives to his side to comfort and grieve with him. Even Haggith, who didn’t care about him, was asked to join. I peered after them, but the messenger turned his face as he plucked Abital from my side. David did not want me. Tears rolled down my cheeks. The pain was ever present. David and his wives joined hands in a circle and lowered their heads in prayer.
The soldiers returned covered in blood. Some were injured. Others bore the bodies of their fallen comrades.
“Why is he weeping?” one said.
“Doesn’t he care that we bled and died for him?” another said.
“Would he rather we had died and Absalom prevailed?”
“Joab cut Absalom down.”
“Good riddance, I say. He was a bad son.”
“He cares more about him than us.”
The murmuring increased in intensity. Men began to desert.
* * *
Toward nightfall, Joab motioned us to the gate to hear David speak.
“Today God has given us a great victory. I congratulate you and praise you for your bravery and valor. Soon, we return to Jerusalem. Thank you, warriors, for the great victory. This is a night of celebration. We give all praise and thanks to God for His glory.”
After David spoke, the camp erupted in festivities. The inhabitants of Mahanaim brought goats and sheep, wine and oil, and lit huge campfires. The men of war changed out of their bloody clothes and joined the women around the campfires. A loud cheer erupted around one fire. Bathsheba wiggled her hips and shook bells in her hands, entertaining a group of raucous soldiers with a harem dance.
Bile rose to my throat, and blood pounded my head. I tore in front of the leering men and yanked her by the wrist. “How dare the Queen of Israel uncover herself in the eyes of the king’s servants?”
The crowd jeered and pushed at me to let her go. I dragged her to the edge of the camp. She twisted and turned, but I held her with a strong grip, my middle finger pinched to my thumb. The fumes of hard drink emanated from her mouth, and she shrieked even as tears slid down her face.
“Why aren’t you comforting him?” I shook her. “You’ve disgraced his throne.”
“Leave me alone, Michal. You’re not my mother. You have no idea what I’m going through.”
“I will not have him deprived of a son he loves because of your sins. Do you hear me?”
“What do you care? He hates you. He replaced you. Get away from me.” She stomped her foot and pushed me.
I pushed her back. “That crown you wear cost me everything. Do not disgrace it.”
“You think I want it? It has cost me. Everyone. I. Love.” Her raging breath spit in my face as she detangled the crown from her hair and smashed it into my cheekbone with a bruising clunk. Ahinoam and Haggith broke us apart. Bathsheba sobbed in Ahinoam’s arms. I picked up her queen’s crown and looped it on my arm.
Haggith sniffed at my side. “She was friends with Absalom. Not surprising, considering she’s only a few years older than he.”
I walked back to my tent with my head throbbing. The crown. The one I used to wear. If I had been a better wife, none of this would have happened. An enormous wave of grief overcame me, and I sunk into a morass of regret. Hugging the crown, I wept bitterly at the enormity of my mistakes, and I missed David.
Chapter 46
Jeremiah 3:20 Surely as a wife treacherously departeth from her husband, so have ye dealt treacherously with me, O house of Israel, saith the LORD.
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The next few days were filled with celebrations. The men of Mahanaim and David’s supporters organized another feast. The townspeople opened their houses to us for baths, and we were finally able to clean ourselves.
Men told stories and played music. Everyone mingled around giant bonfires. David’s younger wives cavorted with the soldiers, and his children made merry with wooden swords and rawhide balls. Even Ahinoam sported a smile as she kept an eye on Sarah who walked with a young officer.
I wandered aimlessly. With no one to celebrate with, I ambled toward the Eastern Palace, retraced the steps to the gate and stopped under an old bay tree surrounded by lilies. Wrapped in David’s cloak, I inhaled his woodsy scent. Bathsheba’s crown encircled my wrist. Perhaps I could gain an audience to return her crown. Would he see me? Would I be welcome? David had told me to stay away. But his kiss had to have meant something.
A hand covered my eyes. I jumped, taking a breath to scream. Bearded lips covered my mouth, and the scream dissolved into his throat.
“I’ve captured you, dear Princess.” Ittai’s voice rumbled deliciously.
My breath hitched. “I thought you were dead, and my boys?”
“We’re all fine. Come, I can’t talk to you here.” He let go and beckoned me around an outcrop of rocks and down a path into the forest. My heart raced after him. My legs matched his strides.
Once we were remote enough, Ittai pulled me into a grove of willow trees. “Michal, I’ve missed you so much.”
My blood pulsed from my heart to my fingertips. “I missed you, too.”
I touched his stubble, sprinkled with grey and ran my fingers through his long, smooth hair. His skin was still unlined, and a jagged scar traced his left cheek. His smile twinkled, every bit as rakish as I remembered.
“Didn’t you believe I’d show up someday?” he said. “I brought an army. We chased Absalom’s men into the forests. Your boys were with me.”
My heart rate quickened. “They’re here?”
“They were, but they’ve gone to Jerusalem to look for you, to rescue you, if needed.” He tilted my chin. “But look what I found.”
“Who told you I was in Jerusalem? Don’t you know me better? Even if David had ordered me to stay, I would have come anyway.”
“I didn’t see you at Phaltiel’s house that first night David conferred with us. When I asked about you, no one would give me an answer. But now I have you, and I’m not letting you go.”
His strong arms squeezed the breath out of me. He lowered his forehead to mine, and I melted to his chest. Our lips met. My restraint evaporated as the dew on a hot spring morning, unleashing a raging wildfire. My conscious mind wandered to the realm of fantasy.
“Ittai,” I said breathlessly, “how is it that David has allowed you to return?”
“He needed me.” His white teeth gleamed in the dusk. “After he drove me away, I recruited an army and prepared for a time to serve him again. Absalom gave me the perfect opportunity. All Israel had turned against David. All the archers and horsemen went after him. David only had the loyalty of a few aging mighty men, his nephews and the palace guards.”
“How did you know all this?”
He wiggled his eyebrows. “I, too, have spies. Your David has been somewhat of a recluse these last few years. Rumor says he keeps his secret queen in his tower. Rumor says he’s executed her, and rumor says he talks to her ghost.”
I lowered my head. David had been negligent
of his kingdom, and he had mooned over me and dreamed of God’s Temple.
Ittai tipped my chin. “You look and feel nothing like a ghost. Solid, flesh, hot, breathing, irresistible.” He traced my lips with his fingers, and his eyes beckoned my soul. “I’ve always loved you. From the moment I saw you, when you ran from me and tumbled into the river, I loved you.”
He leaned to kiss me, but I held my hand to his chin. “You? You were the boy?”
His grin tilted one side of his face. “Took you long enough to remember. Do you still have my cloak?”
I shook my head, stunned. “I’ve often thought about you, whether you made it back home.”
He tugged David’s cloak and gazed into my eyes. “I was the first to wrap you in my cloak and claim you. You’re really mine.”
The heat of his chest cradled me, and his lips found mine again. I kissed him furiously, the fire licking the hem of my dress jumped to singe the hairs of my head. Ittai picked me up and took me deeper into the grove, laid me on a pile of leaves and transported me back in time to another tree near Delilah’s house in the Valley of Sorek.
He stroked me with his tongue, sending delicious pulses through my body. The stubble of his beard tantalized and evaporated my reason. Crouching on his hands and knees, he worshipped me with his entire body, touching and filling the empty corners of my heart.
“Do you want me? Don’t deny me.” His love tugged at my heart, fondled it, and snatched it.
A great need overwhelmed me and I pulled him down. His entrance, a rebirth, displaced a lungful of air. His movements danced rhythmically, teased and stroked, intensifying into deep cleansing thrusts, thrusts that claimed and conquered my soul.
A monstrous tidal wave of pressure hammered me with swell after swell of raw delight. My body jerked in spasm with the overspreading of an exhilarating and calming glow. Curled in an envelope of warm bliss, his heartbeat lulling me to sleep, his arms encircling me, love never ending, we lay on the bed of leaves and moss, our bodies entwined in a sheet of sweat and love. Ittai’s hair covered my face like a groom’s wedding shawl.
Michal's Window Page 46
