Michal

by Jill Eileen Smith

  “And if he fails, Michal? Whatever will we do with so much food?” Ahinoam placed one hand on Michal’s shoulder, then reached to stroke her cheek. “I know you love the boy, but you must be realistic. This caper is not an easy feat, not to mention gruesome. If just one man is not completely dead when David goes to snatch his—” She looked away, but not before Michal caught the disgusted scowl on her face. “Can you imagine? What was your father thinking?”

  Michal chewed one nail, then thought better of it. She’d gotten Father to pursue her marriage this far. She couldn’t stop now. “He was thinking he’d finally found a way to rid himself of his worst enemy, Mother. But just in case I’m right, and God is truly with David, couldn’t we start preparations? If David dies, Father can throw a feast with the extra food to celebrate.”

  She shivered at the thought, knowing full well her father would pretend to mourn rather than make merry. But the people of Israel would grieve for months. And the king would do anything, even grieve for his enemy, to please the people.

  “Your father wouldn’t celebrate, Michal. At least not publicly. But I suppose a few plans are in order.” She turned back to the table to allow her maid to finish pinning up her hair. “Go and tell Marta to secure extra food and help. Send a runner to contact Adriel for more food. Oh, and send for your sister. She should be part of this, regardless of your father’s broken promises.”

  Michal stood and bent to kiss her mother’s cheek. “Thank you, Mother. I’ll get started right away.” She fairly skipped out of the room, down the long, shadowed halls, to see Marta.

  “You’ve got your hundred foreskins, David.” Joab slapped the last piece of bloody flesh on the pile at David’s feet and sighed. “Let’s go home.”

  David looked across the Philistine camp at the bodies lined up in rows for easy counting purposes. The raiding party they’d come across held two hundred men, and after a swift but bloody battle, the soldiers under his command destroyed them all. Now the mutilated foreskins of one hundred men sat below him in a heap. But what if they lost one on the way back? What if they’d miscounted?

  “Double it.” David unsheathed his flint knife. “I don’t want to take any chances.” He strode to the line of blood-soaked Philistines, whose tunics still covered their legs.

  “You heard the captain,” Joab shouted to the exhausted soldiers. “Double the dowry.”

  Before long, the sun edged closer to the western horizon. The mission had been accomplished sooner than David expected. He dropped the last slimy foreskin into a goatskin pouch and tied the bag to his horse’s saddle. He cast a long look at the Philistine camp. Overhead, carrion birds flew in circles, creating wide arcs in the cloudless sky, and then swooped low, waiting to devour the dead.

  “Let’s go.”

  “David, son of Jesse, respectfully requests to see King Saul.” David spoke to the guard blocking the audience chamber door a few hours later. “I have brought the dowry he requested.”

  The guard opened the heavy door, walking ahead of David to announce his presence. David followed, set the pouch on the stone floor, and knelt.

  “I have done as you have requested, my lord. Behold two hundred Philistine foreskins to take vengeance on my lord’s enemies and provide the dowry for your daughter Michal to become my wife.”

  Saul’s expression moved from disinterest to suspicion. Please, Lord, after giving us such quick success, don’t let him defraud me again.

  Footsteps sounded behind David. He waited until the source came into view, not daring to look away from Saul.

  “It looks like we’re about to have a wedding, Father.” Jonathan’s voice sent peace straight to David’s heart.

  “Mother and Michal have been planning all day, decorating and preparing food. Now that David has supplied an appropriate dowry, there is no reason to wait. Are you ready to become son-in-law to the king, David?”

  “Yes, my lord.” David could not suppress an appreciative smile.

  “Count them!” The king’s demand echoed off the stone walls like crashing thunder. “I want to see every last one.”

  Jonathan’s eyes flashed as he drew himself up to his full height and took two steps forward. “You can trust David, Father.”

  David began to untie the bag. The putrid scent of blood and decaying flesh sickened him, but he held his breath and dumped the contents onto the floor. With painstaking accuracy, David picked up and counted each one—“One, two, three . . .”—through all two hundred pieces of flesh.

  “Are you satisfied now, Father?”

  “You doubled the amount.” The king’s jaw slackened in disbelief, then closed again. A look of resignation was evident in his slumped shoulders and dipped head.

  “Yes, my lord. In case some were lost—I wanted to be sure.”

  Saul gave David a thoughtful look. “My daughter loves you.”

  “Yes, my lord. And I am offering to spread my garment over her, to care for her.”

  “He’s met your requirement, Father,” Jonathan said.

  Saul nodded. “He doubled it.”

  “Yes, he did.”

  Silence descended over the room until not even a scribe’s reed pen could be heard scratching against parchment. All eyes were riveted on the king, and servants and advisors held their collective breath.

  “You’d better clean up for your wedding, Son.” Saul’s strong, sure voice put David at ease. “Tonight you will become my son-in-law.”

  Michal sat on the dais in the colorful banquet hall, her heart keeping time with the steady beat of the drum. Her trembling fingers picked at her muted gold and blue robe, and she cinched it closer to her neck. She felt a rush of gratitude for the blue-fringed, striped veil closing her in her own private canopy. The filmy material allowed her a blurred view of her ten virgin maids and the servants milling about—some fanning the area around her with large palm fronds, others carrying trays of food and drink to the excited guests. Across the room the voice of her beloved carried to her above the din of male laughter.

  He would come for her soon. Perspiration beaded her upper lip despite the circulating air, and she dabbed it with a square of white linen. Every thought of David’s arms holding her, of his lips tasting hers, sent her pulse racing and her emotions soaring with anticipation. And dread.

  Mother had warned her that the marriage bed was not a pleasant place for a woman. At least not at first. But when Michal had pressed her for details, her mother had changed the subject. The women who had accompanied her to the ritual mikvah a few hours earlier were no better, though they seemed to enjoy teasing her enough.

  The rapid increase of the drum’s steady beat jolted her. Michal’s stomach fluttered. Boisterous voices settled into silence, and in the next moment, Michal heard David’s sandals slap against the stone floor. They stopped in front of her.

  “It’s time, my love.” His strong, callused fingers grasped her cold hand and pulled her to her feet.

  “Yes, my lord,” she whispered past a suddenly dry throat. Would David love her—truly love her?

  Her anxious feet followed his lead across the banquet hall, his strength seeping through his fingers to her hand, warming her. The crowd fell in behind, trailing them to the multicolored wedding tent shining in the palace garden like jasper. At the tent’s entrance, David turned to the noisy crowd and smiled, then lifted the flap. He pulled Michal in with him.

  The heady scent of spikenard wafted from David’s muscular body, and Michal glimpsed a few well-placed lamps perched throughout the tent. A raised bed dominated the room. It was the reason they were here, and the people outside, particularly her father, would not leave until David emerged with proof of his bride’s virginity.

  Michal felt David’s nearness, but she stood frozen to the spot just inside the door. The beat of the drum continued, matching the racing thump of her heart. She trembled at the touch of David’s fingers lifting the veil away from her face and dropping it onto the carpeted tent floor. His nimble finger
s pulled the golden combs from her hair, sending tingling waves down her back. He gently sifted her smooth strands over his palms. His dark eyes assessed her, as though trying to read her thoughts.

  She averted her gaze to his wavy locks of dark hair. A ring of gold encircled his head. A groom’s crown. She lowered her eyes to meet his, shaken by the intensity aflame in their depths. His look absorbed the very core of her soul in a suspended moment of time. He slipped from his shoulders the multicolored mantle he had placed over her to pledge his protection. Tanned muscles showed beneath a white tunic. His fingers traced a line along her cheek. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are, my love?”

  Michal’s throat tightened in response, and when he loosened the golden sash from her waist and pulled her against his chest, a hundred butterflies took flight in her stomach.

  “I’m not very beautiful.” She shivered.

  His captivating smile faded, and his warm, sweetened breath touched her neck. A trail of kisses fell from his lips, traveling from her neck to her ear. “You are ravishingly beautiful, Michal.”

  Pinpricks of delight spread over her skin, and Michal’s breath nearly stopped as his lips parted, first touching and then consuming hers. The fire of passion, which she’d often seen igniting his gaze when he sang a song of worship or discussed war with her brother, now turned on her, all wrapped up in his ever-deepening kiss.

  Michal’s head swam, and her heart galloped like a runaway horse. With trembling fingers, she reached blindly to lift the crown of gold from his dark locks. The action made him pull away to look into her eyes. His entrancing smile returned, and when he pulled her down beside him on the bed, she felt like she was floating, carried on angels’ wings.

  The incessant drum and anxious crowd slipped from Michal’s thoughts, blocked by the rush of blood pumping through her veins. What was her mother so worried about?

  Her hands came up around David’s neck, and she felt him respond when she returned his kiss. His strong arms tightened around her, and Michal’s dread slipped away, sharing the joy and exquisite bliss of her husband’s love.

  PART II

  Thus Saul saw and knew that the Lord was with David, and that Michal, Saul’s daughter, loved him; and Saul was still more afraid of David. So Saul became David’s enemy continually.

  1 Samuel 18:28–29

  Saul also sent messengers to David’s house to watch him and to kill him in the morning. And Michal, David’s wife, told him, saying, “If you do not save your life tonight, tomorrow you will be killed.” So Michal let David down through a window. And he went and fled and escaped.

  1 Samuel 19:11–12

  10

  “Please, David, don’t go.” Michal sat on the foot of their bed, hands outstretched in supplication. “We’ve only been married seven months, and you’ve gone to war three times.” She let a tear slip down her cheek. “I can’t bear it when you leave. I’m so afraid.”

  David straightened his tunic and tightened his belt before coming to kneel at her side. He took both of her hands in his. “I won’t let anything happen to you. What are you afraid of, beloved?”

  Hot tears wet Michal’s cheeks, and she felt his scarred fingers brush them away. “How can you protect me when you’re not here? You know how my father acts when the demons attack him. What if he tries to hurt me?”

  David bent to kiss her moist face, then pulled her against his chest, stroking her plaited hair. A deep sigh escaped his lips, and Michal felt his shoulders slump as though in defeat. “If I stay, your father will find more reasons to become annoyed with me, Michal. While I hate leaving you, it is better for all of us the less I’m around your father.”

  “We could move away, David. Just the two of us. Then we’d never have to see my father again.” Though they lived apart from the palace in a home of their own, the house still belonged to her father on palace grounds. Too close to breathe easily or to feel like their home was truly their own.

  David held her at arm’s length. “And do what, beloved? Tend sheep? Live in caves? Your father is king. He could find us if he wanted to. Israel isn’t that big.” He kissed her nose. “Besides, God doesn’t want me to live my life in seclusion. You knew that when we married.”

  A shiver ran through her. Every time David left her alone, nagging doubts filled her. What if he didn’t come back? He would never sit on the throne of Israel with her at his side if he died in battle.

  She felt his hands slip from her shoulders as he released her and stood. He pulled his striped brown robe over his tan tunic and attached the leather girdle holding his sling and sword.

  “I have to go, Michal.” He turned to face her again, his expression grim. “Please don’t make this harder than it is.”

  A lump formed in Michal’s throat, and she blinked back tears. She stood and walked with him to the front entrance. Two household, man-sized teraphim guarded either side of the wooden door. David looked at them, then turned to her, his brows furrowed. “I don’t know why we keep these statues, Michal. They certainly can’t be pleasing to Yahweh.”

  Heat rushed to Michal’s cheeks. Hadn’t she felt the same the moment her mother dropped them at their door? A wedding gift, she’d said. Michal closed her eyes at the memory. Ishbosheth had stood behind their mother, shaking his head, his penetrating gaze accusing her.

  “They’re idols, Michal,” David said. “We shouldn’t keep them.”

  “Would you turn my mother against us too?” Her lower lip trembled despite her attempt at defiance.

  David’s expression softened, and his arms came around her again. “Of course not. If it pleases you, keep them—for now. We can decide what to do with them later.”

  “If there is a later.”

  His kiss silenced her skepticism, and for one brief moment she felt protected and loved. In the distance a trumpet sounded, and David released her and opened the door.

  “There will be,” he said, his tone cheerful. “When I return, things will change. You’ll see.” He stepped onto the landing and walked slowly down the steps to the street below. Michal leaned against the railing and watched him wave to her and smile. His confidence did nothing to quell the sinking feeling in her heart.

  Two months later, Saul paced the small chamber inside the city gate, waiting for some sign of the triumphant returning army. Word had reached him that morning of the throngs lining the city streets from Gibeah to the Philistine border. His choice soldiers under the command of Abner, Jonathan, and David had made a significant dent in the enemy’s strongholds in Israel.

  Saul’s fists clenched so tight that his nails dug into his palms and his arms began to ache. He should have gone with them. By allowing them to go without him, that upstart, no-good son-in-law of his had grown more famous as he’d led the men to yet another victory. A victory that should have been his.

  He folded his arms across his chest and gripped his biceps, willing his body to become still, to stop the trembling. He must get hold of himself. What kind of a king worried about an insignificant army commander? With shaking hands, he smoothed the wrinkles from his purple robe. He must speak to the servants. A king’s robe should never be wrinkled.

  He left the chamber and climbed the steps into the tower. From this vantage point, he could see the crowds four and five people deep on either side of the dirt path through the gates and along the winding road that led to Gibeah. Dust rose in great clouds in the distance, indicating the coming of a large company. The jingling sound of a tambourine joined the melodic trill of a flute. Moments later a loud chorus of women began singing.

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

  The dust settled behind the feet of three thousand soldiers as they marched toward Gibeah. At their head, Saul’s three commanders rode black horses. They pranced toward the gates as Saul hurried down the steps. He would meet them in a special chamber in the gate, where complaints were often brought and
judgments were passed. A raised dais of ivory inlaid with gold stood along the center of the back wall. Guards flanked either side of the throne, and Saul took his place between them. He was king, he reminded himself as he tried to block out the sound of the infamous victory song. The people were only praising David because he’d killed the giant. They’d forget about him soon enough.

  The noise grew louder as the crowd drew closer to the gate. A horse whinnied and another snorted.

  What’s taking them so long?

  “David . . . David . . . David . . . David . . .”

  A chant began outside, and Saul walked to the window to look out. David waved his arms and waited for the crowd to quiet. “Thank you. The Lord is good.”

  The people cheered, and David held up his hand for silence. “The Lord gave the armies of Israel a great victory. Let us remember that it is not by the strength of man but by the Lord’s might that we are successful.”

  Women took up the flute and tambourine again, but David stopped them with a disapproving shake of his head. “Sing your praises to the Lord Most High, not to me.” He hopped off his horse and followed Abner and Jonathan into the judgment chamber.

  Saul slipped back to his throne, seething. How dare the people praise David over Abner and Jonathan. His son-in-law’s status was rising above his own son, heir to his throne. He clenched and unclenched his fists. David would continue to snatch the glory away from Jonathan. There would be no end of it. Every time Saul had sent him to war in the last nine months, he had returned victorious. Only this time the crowds were larger, the praises louder.

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

  The song came through the walls of the tower, growing and swelling like a living thing as his three commanders filed through the door and knelt at his feet.

  He drummed the arm of the chair with tense fingers while Abner began to speak. What was he saying? Something about routing the Philistines. The voices in his head kept pace with the song, blocking out Abner’s words. Who were the Philistines? Oh, that’s right. The enemy. The defeated enemy.