Michal

by Jill Eileen Smith

  “No choice?” He whirled around, his hands thrust in the air. “What do you mean you had no choice? You always have a choice, Daughter.” Saul lurched forward, dug his fingers into Michal’s forearms, and shoved her farther into the couch. “Now tell me the truth. Why did you help my enemy escape?”

  “I told you, I had no choice.”

  His hand raised, then she felt the harsh slap of his palm against her cheek.

  “The truth, Michal, or I’ll do worse to you than that!”

  She choked back the uncontrollable urge to weep. “I already told—”

  The second slap caught her off guard. “Abba, please!”

  She raised both arms to protect her stinging cheeks, feeling more humiliated than when he’d taken her over his knee in front of her sister when she was small. Did he hate her as he hated David?

  “Then tell me the truth!” His angry voice echoed in the chamber, and one glance into his heated face told her now was not the time for truth. His eyes flamed like embers from the pit of Sheol. He stopped in front of her, grabbed her wrist, and dragged her half off the couch.

  “Please, Saul, you can see she’s hurt.” Her mother’s words seemed to bounce off him, not registering. His nails dug into her skin until she cried out in pain.

  “He said he would kill me if I didn’t help him. What else could I do?” She choked on the words, sobbing.

  He released his grip and staggered backward.

  “That no-good son of a nobody threatened my daughter?” Saul shrieked. In one swift motion, he unsheathed his sword and held it in the air. “I make you this promise, Michal. As I live, we will find this traitorous husband of yours and feed his body to the beasts of the field.”

  No! her heart screamed in protest, but she couldn’t retract her words.

  “Send out a search party.” Her father’s barked order made her sob all the more. “Find David and bring him to me—so that I may kill him.”

  “I’m sorry to awaken you so soon, my son, but I thought it wise to move you to safer quarters.” Samuel’s sorrowful, rheumy gaze rested on David.

  David squeezed his blurry eyes, trying to focus on the old prophet in the dim light of an oil lamp. “Has Saul found me?” David pushed into a sitting position, heart racing, his gaze resting on the shuttered window.

  “I haven’t heard anything unusual. But dusk has fallen. It will soon be dark enough to travel about unnoticed.”

  David nodded. He sat up and tested his weight on his blistered feet. The healing balm Samuel’s servant had wrapped around them had helped, reducing the pain immensely. “Where are we going?”

  “To Naioth. I have several students housed on the outskirts of Ramah. The buildings are old, added on to over the years, with many secret rooms and places of refuge. You will be safe there.”

  A delegation of Edomite shepherds who tended Saul’s sheep in the hills surrounding Gibeah stood in the king’s audience chamber.

  “David has been seen in Ramah at Naioth,” their leader, Doeg, said.

  Paltiel stood at attention to the right of the throne, acting as one of the king’s bodyguards. He expected such news to come, but not quite so soon. In the two days since David escaped, Saul had rarely slept as he paced the palace halls, breathing venomous accusations against his former captain and son-in-law.

  “Guards!” Saul shouted to the men standing at the door to the audience chamber. Two men rushed forward and knelt.

  “Go at once to Samuel at Naioth and bring David to me. Take ten men with you.”

  “Yes, my lord,” one of them said. “May my lord, King Saul, live forever.”

  Paltiel watched the two do an about-face and march out the door. What would Michal do when she saw her husband executed? With Saul’s propensity toward madness, David’s chances of a quick death were slim. Any number of gruesome thoughts of torture made Paltiel’s stomach turn. Even he wouldn’t wish such evil against David. While death was inevitable, swift was best. No sense putting Michal through the trauma of watching her husband suffer.

  A sudden, acute protectiveness rose in his chest. He had to shelter her from the gruesome ordeal. He couldn’t bear to see anguish in those dark eyes. A shiver worked down his spine, and he wiped damp palms down the front of his tunic. Should he speak to the king? One glance at his monarch’s menacing features stopped the words in his throat. After David was dead, maybe he would make his wishes known.

  15

  “It’s no longer safe for me to stay with you, Samuel.” David spoke with deep regret, wondering if he would ever see the old prophet again.

  Samuel placed two gnarled hands on David’s shoulders and gazed into his eyes. “I know Saul’s guards keep coming, but never forget, my son, God has chosen you to be the next king. Despite his efforts, Saul will not succeed.”

  David bowed his head, accepting Samuel’s kiss on each cheek. “Thank you, my lord, but thirty soldiers have come in the month I’ve been here. Now your servants have spotted Saul’s own retinue headed this way. It is time for me to leave.”

  Samuel dropped his hands and nodded. “Understood.” He handed a satchel of food to David. “Where will you go?”

  David ran his callused fingers through his scraggly beard. He needed to see the palace barber. But he had more important needs to attend to first. “I’m going to see Jonathan. He succeeded once before in talking some sense into his father. Saul has never taken his pursuit this far. Maybe Jonathan can tell me what’s going on.”

  Samuel touched David’s arm as he turned to leave. “Be careful, my son. And God go with you.”

  “David!” Jonathan greeted his brother-in-law with a fierce embrace and kissed each cheek. “Come in, my friend.” He clapped one arm around David’s shoulder and drew him into the secluded sitting room.

  “What are you doing here?” In the dim light of the clay lamps, he studied David’s disheveled, haggard appearance. The pain in David’s expression made Jonathan’s throat go dry. “You look terrible. What happened?”

  “I’ve come to beg you for my life, Jonathan.”

  Jonathan swallowed hard, uneasiness creeping up his spine. “What are you talking about?”

  “A month ago your father tried to kill me. I escaped to my home, where Michal helped me slip through a window. I’ve spent these past weeks with Samuel in Ramah, but your father has sent guards continually and is on his way there now to capture me and kill me.” He paused, ran a hand over his beard. “What have I done? What is my sin before your father, that he seeks my life?”

  “Impossible! You shall not die!” Jonathan said, but a sick feeling twisted his gut just the same. He walked to the window, raked one hand through his hair, and walked back to where David stood.

  “My father will do nothing great or small without first telling me. And why should my father hide this thing from me? It is not so!”

  “Your father knows that I’ve found favor in your eyes, and he has said, ‘Do not let Jonathan know this, lest he be grieved.’ But truly, as Adonai lives and as your soul lives, there is but a step between me and death.” David lifted both hands in a defenseless gesture. “If there is iniquity in me, kill me yourself. But do not take me to your father.”

  Jonathan raised his hands in the air. “God forbid! If there is evil planned against you, wouldn’t I tell you?”

  “I hope so.” David spoke so softly that Jonathan almost missed his words. His friend looked ten years older, worry lines etched on his brow.

  Jonathan embraced David again. “I will talk to my father. If I find out he plans to harm you, surely I will tell you and send you away safely.”

  “How will I know what he says?”

  Jonathan’s mind whirled with a thousand thoughts, but a plan emerged as though given to him by an unseen hand. He bent closer and whispered in David’s ear. “This is what we’ll do.”

  “The Lord is my light and my salvation . . . whom shall I fear . . . fear . . . fear . . . Your father is trying to kill me, Michal . . . Mic
hal . . . Michal . . . I will be back . . .”

  “I love you, David . . . David . . . David . . .”

  Michal woke with a start, her nightshirt drenched in sweat, her pulse racing. What began as a pleasant dream with David’s sweet voice and God-honoring words to allay her fears ended in stark terror, all the awful memories weighing down on her again. For more than a month she had been back in her old bedchamber in the palace recuperating. Though it felt more like prison. While her mother insisted she stay where the servants could look after her and Marta could tend her leg, Michal knew without a doubt that she was not free to go home.

  Deep grief filled her, and she placed one hand over her heart as though the action could bring relief. She had to get out of here. How would she know if David tried to contact her? Even Jonathan had been kept away from her and unaware of their father’s plot against David. Try as she might, she had no one to trust who could take him word.

  Agitated, Michal swung her legs over the edge of the bed and tested the pain level by pressing down on the wounded foot. So far, so good. She gripped the wooden post protruding from her bed and forced herself to stand. A dull ache still accompanied the effort to walk, but if she took it slow, she might be able to finally leave her old bedchamber and get a bit of fresh air. The gray walls of the palace always gave Michal a closed-in feeling, and she longed to be free of the place. More than anything, she wanted to go home—to David.

  Using a wooden walking stick Paltiel had fashioned for her, Michal managed to dress and maneuver the halls to the family’s courtyard. When she passed the kitchen, her stomach growled as if on cue, reminding her how hungry she was. Keziah glanced up from some wheat she was grinding and hurried to her side.

  “My lady, I didn’t know you were up. I would have come to help you if I had.”

  Michal gave in to a half smile. “Never mind that now. I needed to do something for myself anyway. I am hungry, though.”

  “Of course you are. I will bring food to your room right away.”

  “Bring it to the courtyard, Keziah. I don’t want to see that room again for a long time.”

  Keziah gave her a quizzical look.

  “I want to go home,” she whispered, bending toward the girl’s ear. “Is there any chance you can figure out a way to take me there?”

  Keziah glanced over her shoulder at the other women busily working, then back at Michal. “I do not know, my lady. Your father is back from Ramah and is planning the new moon feast for tonight. There is much to be done, and your mother bid me help.”

  “My mother is not your mistress. My father gave you to me as a wedding gift.”

  The girl’s tightly wound black braid flipped forward as she sent another wary look over her shoulder. She straightened and took Michal’s arm. “I will help you to the courtyard, my lady. Then I will bring your food.” She spoke loud enough for the others to hear. When the two were out of earshot, Keziah leaned closer. “You might want to sit down.”

  Her tone set Michal’s teeth on edge, but she obediently lowered her body onto a stone bench. “What is it, Keziah? Tell me quickly.” She couldn’t bear suspense. It only added to her overwhelming fear and the guilt of her lies to her father—the lies that had made her prisoner here.

  “Your father is talking of annulling your marriage to David and giving you to another man.”

  A thick lump in her throat made it impossible to swallow, and Michal nearly choked on her saliva.

  Keziah settled her lithe body on the stone bench at Michal’s side and placed one hand on Michal’s knee, her look earnest. “I heard it myself, my lady. I was in the hall outside your mother’s room when your father came in, black with rage. I hid from view until he stepped into the room, then I peeked through a crack in the door.

  “After three tries sending servants to fetch David, your father went after your husband himself. But the same mysterious malady that came over the guards hit your father the moment he entered Naioth.” She paused and glanced around, then clasped her hands and lowered her voice further.

  “He was stomping back and forth, cursing, and was about to throw one of your mother’s priceless vases when he fell in a heap at her feet and wept like a child. It was hard to hear his exact words at first, even though I pressed my ear as close to the door as I dared. But then he grew louder and wailed that he was humiliated by the whole affair. He had actually removed his royal robes and lay down like a commoner on the floor of the prophet’s house, muttering praises to the Most High. The moment he became aware of what he was doing, he grabbed his clothes and ran off. Of course, by then David was gone.”

  “But what does that have to do with my marriage to David?” Michal whispered, at last able to speak.

  Keziah glanced about the court, eyes wary. “When your mother tried to soothe your father, he started to calm. She changed the subject and mentioned that your foot was healing nicely. The mention of your name must have made him think of David, because he started cursing again and stood up, fists clenched, pacing the room. This time he smashed your mother’s vase against the wall, and she started to cry.”

  The girl straightened, flipped her braid behind her back, and rubbed her hands together. The recollection of that night obviously caused her agitation, but Michal felt her own impatience rising.

  “Tell me the rest, Keziah. Hurry now, before someone comes.”

  Keziah’s nervous gaze rested on Michal, but she nodded her obedience. “I don’t remember the rest very well, mistress. I was afraid the king would come stomping out of the room and catch me listening. So I took a step back and slid around the corner. Good thing too, because I was right. He left your mother’s room like a horse rearing its legs, ready to strike.”

  “But when did you hear him threaten my marriage?” She was getting weary of this conversation. So what if her father missed out on catching her husband? All the better for David. Perhaps this whole thing was a result of Keziah’s overactive imagination.

  “When he stormed down the hall, I was hiding around the corner, and I heard him shout for Joash. He told him to summon the scribes.” Keziah twisted her hands together. “Joash said, ‘The scribes, my lord?’ And your father said, ‘Yes, the scribes. If I cannot put an end to David’s life, at least I can put him out of my house. His contract with my daughter is at an end. He is no longer fit to be called son-in-law to the king.’ ” Keziah’s breath came fast, her dark face flushed with the telling of such news. “I’m sorry, my lady. May I bring food for you now, that you may break your fast?”

  Michal shook her head, too numb to speak. Her appetite had fled.

  She had been David’s wife for over a year. No scribe could write words across parchment and annul their marriage just because her father no longer cared for her husband.

  Michal chewed on one of her knuckles, fighting tears. Keziah had to be wrong. But she had never known the girl to lie. She closed her eyes against gritty tears and stifled a sob.

  David . . . Oh, David . . . why didn’t I run away with you when I had the chance? How will you ever come to me now?

  A multitude of questions stormed her thoughts. What would happen to her if she were no longer David’s wife? Who would her father give her to? Maybe she could still run after David.

  She pushed her foot onto the stone floor of the court, giving her ankle more weight than she had before. The dull ache intensified to a sharper pain, bringing instant tears. She could never run away in her condition. But she could not sit back waiting to see what her father would do.

  She must act.

  With a desperate shove, Michal pushed herself halfway up from the bench but fell back in defeat and despair, the pain in her foot matching the pain in her heart.

  Oh, David, what should I do?

  16

  Jonathan spread nervous fingers through his thick, shoulder-length hair, looking up in silence at the mammoth oak door leading to the banquet hall. His father would already be seated, his back to the wall, eyes wary and ever watchful. Y
esterday, the first day of the new moon feast, David had stayed away. Father had said nothing of David’s absence.

  Jonathan lowered his hands to his sides and clenched them. No telling what would happen when David didn’t show up this time, though after Father’s actions of late, no one else would expect him to. He blew a shaky breath and pulled the door open, sending a silent prayer heavenward.

  “You’re late, my son.” Saul tapped the shaft of his spear with one finger. “We almost decided to start without you.”

  Jonathan glanced around the table. Abner sat to the king’s left, and his brothers, Malchishua, Abinadab, and Ishbosheth, were on his right. His place opposite his father remained open, waiting for him, and as planned, David’s seat next to Abner was empty.

  “I’m sorry, Father. Something came up.” He slipped into his seat at the end of the table, watching his father for a reaction.

  Saul’s pitiless eyes flashed, and his silver brows arched as he leaned toward his son. “I suppose David has a similar excuse? Where is he, Jonathan? Why has the son of Jesse not come to eat, either yesterday or today?”

  Jonathan’s stomach dipped, then knotted. This was it. Saul’s response would give him the answer he and David were looking to find.

  Please, God, let David be able to come home.

  “David begged me to allow him to go to Bethlehem, my lord. His family is having a sacrifice in the city, and his brother commanded him to be there. I said he could go. This is why David has not been present at the king’s table.”

  The stillness grew thick enough to choke a man, and Jonathan forced saliva down his throat to keep breathing normally. Saul’s weathered hand clutched his spear, his knuckles white. His round pupils glowed like smoldering coals in a dying fire.

  “You son of a perverse, rebellious woman! Don’t you think I know you’ve sided with the son of Jesse to your own shame and to the shame of the mother who bore you? As long as the son of Jesse lives on the earth, neither you nor your kingdom will be established. Now bring him to me, for he must die.”