Michal

by Jill Eileen Smith

  “Why are you wearing your best robe?”

  Merab rolled her eyes. “Really, Michal, I can’t go into Father’s banquet hall and meet my betrothed in my normal attire, now can I?”

  Michal swallowed, her jaw clenched. “You’re not betrothed yet.”

  “If Father has his way, I will be before the day is done. He’s going to surprise David by offering me to him now.”

  A swell of nausea turned Michal’s stomach. Merab couldn’t marry David. Not now. She’d had no time to do anything to stop it. And stop it she must.

  “Once the betrothal ceremony takes place, I won’t have you to worry about anymore, now will I, Michal?”

  Before Michal could answer, Merab, followed by her maids, swept past her into the center of the banquet hall.

  Michal trailed her sister at a distance. The crowd of men parted to let her pass, and she straightened her back, holding her head high as though she was fully aware of what was happening and had a perfect right to be there.

  A hush settled over the room as Merab approached Father’s throne, her bearing regal, her maids two paces behind. She knelt before the king, then stood. Father rose as well and came to stand in front of Merab.

  “Men of Israel—my oldest daughter, Merab.” Father put a hand on Merab’s shoulder and turned her to face the company of gawking men. Though Merab stood rigid and appeared serene, Michal sensed her discomfort. Or maybe it was her own discomfort she was feeling, closed in as she was by too many interested men. She took a step forward, moving farther from the crowd to slide against the wall near the antechamber, where she could see the throne from a safer distance.

  She scanned the room, spotting David as he stood and handed his lyre to a servant. Had Father told him? By the look on his face, he had to know. Oh, why did it have to come to this?

  “David, son of Jesse, come.” Her father’s command held the full weight of his kingly authority, making Michal’s heart sink. Her father was in his right mind, which did not bode well for her.

  David walked across the hall and bowed three times at the king’s feet. When he stood, her father stepped forward and grasped his hand, placing it in Merab’s.

  “Behold my older daughter, Merab.” The king looked at David. “I will give her to you for a wife, only be valiant for me and fight the Lord’s battles.”

  But David had already proven he was the most valiant man in Israel. How could her father think to suggest that he needed to do more?

  Silence settled over the room, pressing in on her. Michal’s heart skipped a beat, then another, her stomach twisting in dread. She searched David’s face, trying to read his expression, but he had masked his emotions well. He looked from her father to her sister, the silence lengthening. She should do something to distract him, to keep him from making a commitment she would never be able to accept, but her mind would not formulate a single plan, and she couldn’t pull her gaze from him.

  “Who am I, and what is my life or my father’s family, that I should be son-in-law to the king?” David’s words made her breath catch, matching the sharp intake of breath coming from Merab.

  An unreadable expression crossed her father’s face. His jeweled, age-scarred fingers pulled Merab’s hand from David’s, and he dismissed Merab with a nod. Relief flooded Michal so quickly she nearly fainted.

  As Merab walked from the room without a backward glance, head held high, Michal slipped away from the banquet hall through another door and hurried to her room. She flopped facedown on her sleeping couch, then rolled onto her back and clutched a pillow to her chest. There was no question she would be miserable if Merab married David. But David’s words made no sense. He was supposed to marry her sister because he killed the giant. Why turn down such an opportunity? If anything, marriage to the king’s daughter would help his future.

  Michal dug her fingers into the embroidered pillow, curling it into a tight ball. David’s actions today had brought a reprieve, and Michal’s heart sang with tentative hope. Now all she had to do was convince her father to give Merab to another, then persuade him to let her marry David in her sister’s place.

  Saul paced the length of the banquet hall moments after the last commander had left for the evening. His royal robes flowed about his feet, girded at the waist with a golden sash, and he clutched his bronze, iron-tipped spear in his left hand. He’d sent the young upstart David to the guardhouse with a new title—captain over a thousand. It was his only recourse. After the young fool had refused to marry his daughter, he had to reward his act of bravery in battle somehow. His men would never trust him again if he didn’t offer their young hero some compensation.

  His long legs carried him to the opposite wall, where bronze shields taken in battle from the Ammonites and Philistines stood on display. Saul stared at a shield emblazoned with the Ammonites’ colors and symbols, then turned his attention to a similar Philistine one. The giant, Goliath, had possessed such a shield and carried an even more ornate sword. David owned that sword now.

  Brash, arrogant, youthful, popular David. Saul cursed under his breath. The boy was a blight, a pestilence to be rid of.

  Without warning, the melancholy thoughts slid under his skin again. He whirled around and stomped across the tiled floor.

  “Ahh!” He flailed his spear at the air as he walked. Let David be captain of his thousand. “Take that!” Let him fight battles and skirmishes and full-scale wars. “And that!” Let the Philistines come against him. “Argghh!” Then he, Saul, would be free of shedding the boy’s blood.

  Saul leaned against the wall, spent from his imaginary battle. The scraping of wooden hinges made his pulse jump. He looked up.

  “Forgive me, my lord, for intruding,” David said, taking one step into the room, “but Commander Abner suggested I play the lyre for you this evening.”

  Saul stared at him as though he were seeing a ghost. He twisted the blade around, slapping the shaft in the palm of one hand. He glanced down at the spear, then lifted his head, his vision blurred.

  Pin him to the wall. Be done with him, the voices screamed at him. You can kill him with one thrust. Then the kingdom will be yours, and your son’s after you, and your son’s son forever and ever, and you won’t be tormented anymore.

  Saul grimaced. He didn’t want to hear the thoughts. Trying to thrust David through last time hadn’t worked. He was too quick.

  No, he’s not. He doesn’t suspect you now. Not after you offered your daughter to him.

  But the boy had refused her. Why did he act like he didn’t deserve to marry her? Perhaps he was trying to act humble to gain the favor of the people.

  “My king? Are you all right?”

  David’s words mingled with the other voices in his head. He glanced up at the boy. A handsome lad. Too handsome. The people might love him more.

  Saul has slain his thousands, and David his ten thousands.

  They already did.

  Saul’s eyes bored into David’s.

  Do it! You have nothing to lose!

  The voices grew louder, shouting, blaring their demands, until at last—whoosh! The spear flew from his experienced hands, aiming straight for David’s heart.

  The spear imbedded into the wooden frame. Saul stared in disbelief and let out his breath. The boy had evaded the weapon and slipped back through the door into the night.

  Saul’s body began to tremble, and he rubbed his arms and hugged them to his chest, trying to still the shaking. Sinking to the floor in a heap, he buried his face in his hands. He hunkered down, succumbed to his body’s violent shudders, and wept.

  7

  Despite the usually cool predawn hour, the breezes wafting across the palace roof promised oppressive heat later in the day. Dressed in her finest multicolored robe and white tunic, her braided hair hanging beneath a soft veil, Michal found her favorite viewing spot.

  A thousand soldiers lined up in regiments of one hundred each outside the barracks, stretching almost to the gates of Gibeah. Michal lif
ted one hand to shade her eyes and squinted, searching for David. If only Father hadn’t gotten so insanely jealous of the man. Sending him away was no solution. She wanted him here, with her.

  But she’d heard the shouts and bitter curses, the pottery shattering and the wood splintering. No one was safe when her father got like this. He acted as though a demon were nipping at his heels.

  Michal sighed and looked closer at the barracks. There he stood, the wind whipping his tunic, revealing muscular arms and a tall, strong body. His dark, nearly shoulder-length brown hair skipped across his ruddy complexion and poked out from under his tan turban. Jonathan’s belt girded his waist, and his sword hung from his side. What a specimen of manhood! Michal’s breath caught, imagining what it would be like to be held in his arms.

  Her mind drifted to the moment in the palace hall when she’d warned him to be careful. She would never forget the scent of him or the startled way he’d stepped back, as though her presence had unnerved him.

  “Watching our young hero head out to battle the Philistines?” Merab’s voice came from behind her.

  Michal jumped, a storm of anger suddenly bursting in her chest.

  “I thought I’d find you here hiding from the madness.” Merab strode to the parapet and stood an arm’s length from Michal. “Isn’t it sweet of David to go so soon to battle to prove himself? Once he wins this one, Father will surely seal our betrothal.”

  Michal focused again on finding David, who had walked away from where he’d been standing. Leave it to Merab to ruin her favorite sanctuary. Maybe if she ignored her sister, she would go away.

  She found David moving swiftly through each regiment, conferring with each captain, until at last he took his place at the head of the troop.

  “He’ll make a great commander,” Merab said, squeezing between Michal and one of the twin towers. “I just hope he lives to prove it.”

  “He’ll live.” Michal spoke the words with a certainty she did not feel. David had to live. Please, God, let him live. She couldn’t bear to lose him after just discovering she loved him.

  She stole a glance at her sister. What if Merab loved him too?

  “Well, let’s hope so. If he dies, Father will have to start all over again finding a husband for me.” Merab’s slender fingers lifted long, smooth brown braids to cascade past her shoulders almost to her waist. She looked beyond Michal to the men below.

  “Is there someone else you’d recommend?” Michal kept her eyes trained on David, not wanting to see Merab’s reaction.

  Merab stepped away from the parapet. “If there was, little sister, I certainly wouldn’t tell you.”

  Of course you wouldn’t, you arrogant little . . . The desire to turn and scratch Merab’s perfectly sculpted makeup off her face nearly choked Michal.

  “Why not, older sister? Afraid you’ll never find a man willing to take you? Or are you worried I’ll try to steal him too?”

  “Why, you little beast!” Merab stepped forward and yanked a handful of Michal’s hair.

  “Ow!” Michal jerked away and snatched one of Merab’s dark braids, snapping her head backward.

  “Oooo!” Merab lost her balance and fell to the roof’s dusty floor amid the sound of ripping fabric.

  “Move out!” Michal heard David shout. She turned back toward the soldiers. A thousand men fell into line, some on donkeys and horses, others on foot. She watched David mount a sleek black stallion, lean toward its mane to rub its neck, and then sit back in a comfortable stance. Even the horse listened to him.

  “I’m going to kill you, Michal!” Merab squealed after scrambling to her feet and examining her torn robe.

  Michal pulled her attention from David to Merab. “Do not fight with me, Merab. I’m tired of you treating me like a troublesome, pesky child. I’m as much a woman as you are. And don’t you forget it!”

  A number of fires dotted the open field where David’s men made camp for the night. In another day or two they would advance on the enemy stronghold, but for tonight they huddled together, going over battle strategies.

  The buzz of voices floated to David on the evening’s cool breeze. He stood on a low ridge overlooking the group, his gaze traversing the blackened sky.

  Teach me, Lord. Train my hands for this war. Show me what You want me to learn from Saul’s treachery, and let me come out stronger for it.

  As if in answer, a plethora of dazzling stars burst like sparks across the expanse of heaven. Peace settled over him, replacing the confusion Saul’s hatred caused. God had not abandoned him.

  I praise You, O Lord, for You will not forget Your servant.

  Michal slipped into the antechamber connected to her father’s audience hall and settled on a gilded couch to watch the proceedings. When the last delegate delivered the final message of the day, Michal’s breath came harder, a bead of perspiration trickling down her spine. It was the best place for her meeting with the king, especially since Merab avoided the audience chamber unless David was there playing his lyre.

  She waited until the scribes rolled up their scrolls and Abner and her brothers rose to leave before opening the side door and walking with a casual air toward the king.

  “Did you want something, Michal?” Jonathan asked as she drew closer to her father.

  “I want to see Abba.” She glanced at her father, gauging his mood. Timing was everything. “Alone,” she added, giving her brothers a childish pout. Let them treat her like a little girl who simply needed her father this one last time. The sacrifice to her adulthood was worth it if she got her wish.

  “Come here, my dove.” Her father’s use of her childhood nickname took her back a pace. Maybe the sacrifice was in fact too great. But the thought of David spurred her forward.

  She reached the throne and knelt at her father’s feet, taking his right hand between both of hers.

  “What can I do for you, Daughter?” Saul asked, looking down at her with the exact benevolent expression she was hoping for.

  “Send them away first.” She turned her head to indicate everyone left in the room.

  “You heard the girl.” Her father’s light laugh lifted her spirits. She had picked a good day.

  When the room emptied of everyone but the guards near the door, Michal stood and leaned close to her father’s ear. “I know a secret.” It was the way they used to begin their private games in the earlier days of her childhood, during her father’s first years as king—before the demons came.

  Saul laughed outright. “Tell me your secret, little dove,” he said, playing along.

  “Merab has a suitor. A wealthy merchant.”

  “Does she now?” He cupped her cheek.

  Michal nodded against his open palm. “His name is Adriel of Meholath.”

  “Indeed?”

  She kissed his weathered cheek. “I thought you’d like to know.” She stepped back, holding her breath. Would he take the bait?

  “Thank you, Daughter.” He smiled, signaling the end to their game.

  Michal exited from the room the way she’d come. When she stepped from the antechamber into the hall, she rushed toward the roof, hoping for some sign of the returning army.

  Suddenly Merab moved into her path, arms crossed and eyes flashing. “What are you doing, Michal?”

  “Tell me, Uncle, why did you turn down the king’s offer to become his son-in-law?” Joab sat on a large rock before the campfire, sharpening his dagger with a stone. Despite his stocky build, he could keep up with the better soldiers in the fiercest battle. What he lacked in stature, he made up for in cunning.

  “I didn’t refuse his offer.” David plucked and tuned the strings on his lyre. He trusted Joab—to a point—but a wrong response on his part could bring him into greater disfavor with the king. “I was simply taken aback by the way she was presented to me. I had nothing to offer as a dowry and didn’t know what to say.”

  “Killing Goliath was dowry enough.” Joab held the blade toward the fire, turning it over in
his hand. Apparently satisfied that it was sharp enough, he tucked it into the leather pouch at his side. “He defrauded you, David. You should have agreed to marry the girl right then and there.”

  David plucked a string, tightened it more, then plucked it again. “Well, I didn’t, now did I?” He would marry when he was good and ready, when he had earned the right and paid the bride price.

  “What do you mean, what am I doing? I’m going to the roof.” Michal’s pulse sounded in her ears. Had Merab somehow heard her conversation with her father?

  Merab’s dark eyes narrowed. “If you think watching the road is going to bring him back any sooner, think again, Michal. David is at war, and the last thing he is thinking about is you!”

  “And who said anything about David?” Though his name made her heart beat faster, Michal’s breathing slowed to a more normal rhythm. Merab didn’t seem to know anything. “I like feeling the evening breeze as it moves across the fields. It’s cooler on the roof than in these confined walls.”

  Merab tilted her chin, looking down her nose at Michal. “See that it’s all you do.” She walked off in a huff, her anger obviously still smoldering.

  Michal shook her uneasiness aside. Something had put Merab in a foul mood, but that was not her concern. She raced to the roof, to her quiet sanctuary, to think about David instead of her sister.

  8

  Saul’s fortresslike palace came into David’s line of sight, and his men quickly dispersed toward the barracks or their homes, leaving him blissfully alone.

  He glanced toward the roof. Would Michal be there? A glimpse of Saul’s youngest had caught his attention the day he left for war three months before. Had she been standing there on account of him?

  He didn’t see her today. But maybe that was a good thing. He couldn’t think about Michal when he had so recently refused Merab. Like Laban of old, Saul wouldn’t allow the younger daughter to marry before the older one. And he was less likely to offer David the chance to become his son-in-law a second time, so to dwell on Michal was useless. Still, David couldn’t deny the rapid twittering of his heart or the quiver in his stomach at every thought of her. A feeling he fought to suppress.