Michal

by Jill Eileen Smith

  The horse trotted beneath him, drawing nearer to the palace fortress. No welcoming crowd greeted him on this return, only the standing guards who nodded as he passed through the gate. His weary limbs begged to do nothing more than rest, and perhaps fill his belly with a hot meal. But on closer inspection, David realized the palace was whitewashed and draped with palm fronds. Torches stood on poles that were set in large clay pots filled with sand, and vases of flowers were everywhere.

  Was a wedding planned? Three months ago no one in Saul’s household was yet betrothed. So who would marry so soon?

  He drew up beside the barracks and reined in his mount, an uneasy feeling settling in his gut. A groomsman approached, took the stallion, and led it back toward the stables. Guards and servants hurried to and fro in the yard, seemingly oblivious to David’s return. Voices drifted to him as he moved toward the guardhouse.

  “The princess wants the red poppies lining the path to the chuppah, not the purple anemones.”

  “That’s not what I heard . . .”

  Which princess? He should stop someone, ask what was going on, and put an end to his uneasiness. But he ducked into the guardhouse instead, moved toward his small corner of the open room, and reminded himself that he had no right to know or care. If Merab was the princess of which they spoke, he should be relieved. He had come to realize that she was too beguiling and manipulative for his taste. And if it were Michal, well, then he could stop thinking about her and get on with the important matter of preparing to one day be king. Either way, it was no concern of his.

  But he donned a fresh tunic and scrubbed the dried blood from his hands and arms just the same. He deserved an answer, if only for his own peace of mind.

  “Welcome back, Captain,” one of the guards said as he approached the outer court and stood before the palace doors. “We’ve heard glowing reports of your success.”

  “Have you now? Then I can presume the king is pleased.” He thrust both hands behind his back and assumed a relaxed pose. He nodded toward the yard beyond him, where the heady cones of incense burned and the multicolored wedding tent stood like a proud sentinel for all to see. “Tell me, Soldier, what is all this about?”

  The man blanched. “You mean you don’t know?” He averted his gaze as though he were suddenly uncomfortable, and he cursed under his breath. “The king should have sent word to you. Leave it to crazy old King Saul to do something like this behind your back.”

  The knot in his stomach cinched tighter. “What has the king done?”

  The man looked at him then. Was that pity in his eyes? An undeniable sense of anger and foreboding pressed in on him.

  “The king’s daughter Merab is being wed to Adriel of Meholath this evening.”

  David curled his hands into fists. “Barely three months ago, Saul promised her to me.” Yet the soldier’s words brought a surprising sense of relief. The bride wasn’t Michal.

  “The king felt you had refused his offer. Word came to him of Adriel’s interest in his daughter, so he sought him out, and they sealed the betrothal.”

  “I didn’t refuse the girl,” David said with clenched teeth, though a deeper part of him knew he had. “I merely pointed out that I didn’t deserve the position.” Perhaps he didn’t. Was this God’s way of showing him He had other plans?

  David forced his clamped muscles to relax and drew in a slow, easy breath. “May God bless their union.” He turned, needing to be alone, then glanced back at the man. “Thank you, Soldier.”

  “You’re welcome, Captain.”

  The relentless wedding drum reverberated in Michal’s ears, like the barking of wild dogs circling their prey. She had seen the wary look in Merab’s eyes, and for a brief moment Michal’s heart tripped with guilt. Maybe she’d done the wrong thing.

  She’s just suffering bridal jitters.

  Of course, that’s what it was. Mother had said every new bride came to her husband in fear. And Merab barely knew Adriel. Perhaps she didn’t even like him.

  At least she wasn’t marrying David. And Adriel had grown wealthy over the years. But the fact that his first wife had died in childbirth, something Michal discovered after the betrothal was secure, hadn’t helped the situation. She didn’t really wish Merab ill fortune. She just didn’t want her to have David.

  When the fanfare of the groom’s entrance drew the crowd’s attention, Michal caught the resigned sadness that flickered across her sister’s face, which intensified Michal’s guilt. She twisted the belt at her waist and slipped away from her maid and the other women of her father’s court, past the virgin dancers and the appreciative young men watching them dance, on through the garden gate. A grove of olive trees rested beyond the walled garden but within the more extensive fortress, which included the servants’ quarters and housing for the on-duty soldiers.

  With quiet steps, Michal maneuvered through the crowd, glancing over her shoulder to be sure she wasn’t being followed. Perhaps she had overstepped her bounds this time. If she had not spoken to Father about Adriel’s interest in Merab—an assumed interest at best—Merab might at this moment be resting in David’s arms. Michal shivered, and her stomach twisted until she felt physically sick.

  Her jeweled sandals trampled the soft earth toward the olive grove. Moonlight cast eerie shadows over the place, and Michal considered turning back. Maybe she shouldn’t have come here alone at night like this.

  She cocked her head to listen. The steady drum continued to beat, pushing the newlyweds toward the bridal tent with unseen hands. Michal didn’t want to be there when Adriel returned to the merrymakers. She didn’t want to be reminded of her part in it all.

  “Isn’t it a bit late for a princess to be out by herself so far from the safety of the palace?”

  Michal jumped back at the familiar voice. She tripped on a protruding tree root but caught a branch and righted herself. David stepped from the shadows and touched her arm, steadying her. He turned her to face him. “What are you doing here, Michal? Shouldn’t you be at the wedding?”

  He sounded stern, but his eyes twinkled in the moon’s glow, and he courted a smile. Michal’s heart stopped and then soared at his touch, and when she looked into his handsome face, she couldn’t speak.

  David’s gaze penetrated Michal’s soul, and amid her racing heart she imagined lifting one hand to brush the wavy strands of dark hair from his forehead. Instead she lowered her lashes and studied his feet.

  “Aren’t you going to answer me?”

  She lifted her head and met his steady gaze. “I needed to get away—to think.”

  He took one step back and clasped his hands behind him. “I see. It seems we have the same idea. I too came here to think . . . and pray.”

  Michal reached out to a low olive branch, gripping it for support. His nearness was making her head spin. “What did you need to think about?”

  David shifted positions, and Michal watched his gaze travel the length of her. He looked beyond her, then back to her face. His feet moved closer. “I’ve been wondering why your father gave my intended bride to another.”

  Michal’s heart hammered, and she clutched the branch harder, all too aware of the intensity of David’s gaze.

  “Do you know why, Michal?”

  She looked away, thankful for the dark of night to hide the warmth she could feel filling her cheeks. If she told him the truth, he might reject her forever. But if she lied and he found out about it, all hope of gaining his favor would be lost.

  “Father thought you had refused her, and when he learned of Adriel’s interest in Merab, he contacted him. Adriel is older than Merab by almost eleven years and had acquired enough wealth to supply a healthy bride price. So my father betrothed her to him. Honestly, David, my father thought you would die fighting the Philistines, and he didn’t want to marry Merab to someone whose life stood in such a precarious position.”

  She stole a glance at him then. He lifted one hand to his chin and stroked his dark brown beard, a thoug
htful look on his face.

  “Considering your father has twice sought to take my life, I can understand his thinking.”

  Michal nodded, then slowly stepped away from the tree until she stood within a pace of him. Her pulse thudded as she took in his masculine scent and watched the breeze play with a tendril of his hair. “That’s not the whole truth.”

  David gave her a curious look. “No?”

  She shook her head and looked at the dirt beneath her feet. “I told Father about Adriel’s interest in Merab. The problem is . . . I think she might have preferred to marry you.”

  “What are you trying to say, Michal?”

  The wild galloping of a thousand horses couldn’t match the thumping of Michal’s heart against her chest. Her palms grew sweaty, and she struggled to control her trembling.

  I love you, David. I want you to marry me.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and shook herself. Don’t be ridiculous. And yet he stood there, so close she could feel the strength of him, asking her for the truth. She attempted to swallow in her suddenly dry throat.

  “Merab wasn’t right for you,” Michal choked out. “Even though she thought she cared for you, she wouldn’t have been good for you when God gives you the kingdom.”

  She looked up at David’s sharp intake of breath. “Who told you I would be king? Your father is king, and Jonathan is his heir.”

  “Jonathan believes you will be king.” She dropped her gaze again, her cheeks flaming. Surely it was the truth, and though Jonathan had not confided in her, she could tell it in the way her brother looked at David, as though this man who stood before her now deserved special honor. “And so do I.” Saying it made the prospect believable, a certainty even, despite the doubt flitting through her mind.

  She drew in a breath, fearing she had just destroyed any trust he had once placed in her or her brother. Had she betrayed them both? The familiar guilt assailed her, nearly drowning out the heady feeling of his nearness. She should turn around and run back to her rooms. She took a step away from him instead.

  But in the next instant, David took two steps closer. He touched the tips of his fingers to her cheek, then slipped them under her chin, gently lifting it to force her to look at him. “And what makes you think Merab isn’t right for me?”

  Michal released the breath she’d been holding. No mention of the kingdom. Good. She held his steady gaze, her heart picking up its erratic rhythm, all sense of guilt gone. “My sister is too arrogant and self-seeking. She has little compassion for others. A king needs a wife who will support him, help him achieve his goals, and love him.” She shifted uncomfortably under David’s perusal.

  “I see. Do you know someone who fits that description, Michal?”

  The question hung in the air between them, and Michal thought she would drown in the depths of his liquid gaze. “Yes.”

  Silence.

  “Who?”

  Michal cleared the dryness in her throat and averted her eyes.

  “Who, Michal?”

  She swallowed again, feeling faint. “Me, my lord.”

  There, she’d said it. She looked into his face, noting his tender expression. He leaned closer, studying her, his lips parted. A muscle flexed along his jaw, and his right hand cupped her hot cheek. Michal held her breath, silently begging him to kiss her. But in the next instant, he dropped his hand from her face and backed away.

  “You shouldn’t be here, Michal. Let me walk you back to the palace. It isn’t safe.”

  Disappointment stung her, and Michal stiffened. “Considering I’m with the man who has slain a giant, I should think I am perfectly safe.”

  David stepped beside her and placed one hand on the small of her back, urging her forward. His touch sent pinpricks of delight through her soul. “Some giants are easier to slay than others,” he said softly, leading her toward the garden gate. “You are far too tempting a foe, and I am too weak a man.”

  She turned to him then and searched his face. His bright eyes bespoke the fire of longing, and Michal’s heart leaped for joy. Perhaps in time he could love her too. Maybe she hadn’t done the wrong thing where Merab was concerned after all.

  Bolstered by this sudden thought, Michal leaned forward and kissed his bearded cheek. “I love you, David,” she whispered, then spun around and fled back to the palace.

  9

  The morning sun glinted off the metal blade David held in one hand. With the other hand, he took a rough stone and rubbed it back and forth over the sword. Almost a month had passed since their last battle—and that fateful night of Merab’s wedding and Michal’s declaration of love. If he closed his eyes, he could still feel the warmth of her smile and see the blush on her cheeks. His chest lifted in a deep sigh.

  It was just as well that nothing had come of it. He could not afford to give his heart, his sensibility, to a woman. She was simply a testament to his own weakness.

  Still, she was an interesting creature, if nothing else.

  He bent over the sword again, scraping the metal, the noise grating on his ears. The thought of marrying her had crossed his mind more than once, but the obvious impossibility of it all squelched the idea. The Most High would find a way to give him the throne—with or without marriage to Saul’s daughter.

  A noise behind jolted him. In one swift motion he dropped the stone and turned the blade on the intruder. Seeing his nephew, he lowered his arm.

  “Joab, don’t come up behind me like that. I could have killed you!”

  “Sorry, Uncle. But we aren’t at war. Why are you so jumpy?”

  David gave Joab a cursory glance. “What do you want?” David picked up the stone he had dropped and readied the sword to begin sharpening it again.

  “I’ve heard talk.”

  David lifted his head. “What kind of talk?”

  “I believe Saul wants to offer you the position of son-in-law again.”

  The steady beat of David’s heart increased. He rested the sword across his lap. “How do you know this?”

  “Saul has sent a delegation of his men to speak with you. I just wanted to warn you ahead of time.”

  And take the credit for the news, David thought. He stroked his beard, then picked up the sword again and bent over the stone. “I’m still a poor man with no dowry to offer him, Joab.”

  “You underestimate your worth, Uncle.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Joab walk away.

  An hour later, a handful of palace servants found him oiling his shield in the guardhouse.

  “Greetings, Captain.”

  “Brothers.” David nodded to the men, setting his shield on a low table. “What can I do for you?”

  “We have a message for you,” said one servant whom David recognized as a personal attendant to the king.

  “I’m listening.”

  “The king delights in you, and all his servants love you, therefore the king desires you to become his son-in-law.”

  David studied the group. Thanks to Joab, he’d had time to consider the matter. But every way he looked at the situation, the problems of his lineage and lack of wealth remained. He was no rich merchant who could drop gold coins into Saul’s purse like Merab’s new husband did. “Do you think it is a small matter to become son-in-law to the king? I am a poor man and lightly esteemed.”

  “Nevertheless, the king delights in you. He’s giving you a second chance to become his son-in-law.”

  This had to be Michal’s doing. But he still could not accept. “I’m sorry, brothers. I cannot go to the king empty-handed.”

  David watched the men walk away dejected. Their expressions matched the feelings in his heart. But there was nothing else he could do.

  David bent over the curved shield, rubbing until his fingers ached. At the creaking of the wooden door, he looked up. The delegation of Saul’s servants strode toward him, smiling.

  “You’re back,” David said. He wiped the last of the oil from his hands, then carried the shield to hi
s corner of the room.

  “The king has set a dowry.”

  David studied Saul’s personal attendant. “Indeed?”

  “The king said to tell you that he desires no other dowry than one hundred Philistine foreskins, to take vengeance on his enemies.”

  No doubt the king hoped he would die in the process. David surveyed the roomful of men, then the light outside the open window. The sun had moved halfway to the middle of the sky. If they went now, they could be back by first light, God willing.

  “Tell the king the terms are acceptable.”

  David turned to his men, noting their eager expressions. “Listening to my conversations, are we?” he asked. A few nodded sheepishly. “Volunteers willing to help me secure the bride price—let’s go.”

  “Send the servants to gather palm fronds and wildflowers for the baskets, Mother. If we don’t start to decorate soon, David will be back, and nothing will be ready for our wedding.” Michal stood in the arch of the door to her mother’s bedchamber, hands on her hips.

  Ahinoam sat at an ornate dressing table, her maid pulling a shell-shaped comb through her long, graying hair. “A bit anxious, aren’t we, Daughter? And confident too.” She swiveled in her seat to look at Michal, her expression tender. “At lunch, your father couldn’t stop gloating over his cleverness. He seems to think your young hero will die trying to secure the dowry.”

  “Which is exactly what he wants, Mother. But God is with David. He’ll be back, and I want to be ready.” Michal stepped into the room and knelt at her mother’s side. “Please, Mother, couldn’t we have the kitchen staff begin preparations? Father doesn’t need to know. Then, if David should succeed, there will be nothing to stop our wedding.”