Michal

by Jill Eileen Smith

  Michal pressed her glossed lips together and nodded, thankful no words were required of her. She couldn’t believe she was letting them do this to her. Just the thought of Paltiel’s touch sickened her. Maybe in time she could convince him to return her to David.

  Unless Benaiah could be trusted.

  Her leaden feet moved to the canopy where Paltiel stood waiting, smiling down at her. She glanced about and spotted Benaiah a few paces from her father. He nodded in her direction before she looked back at Paltiel. When she stopped beside him, he draped one end of his robe across her shoulders and solemnly promised to love and protect her.

  “To the marriage tent at once!” her father said.

  Michal’s heart leaped, and the hairs on her arms rose in little bumps. She turned and saw her father standing with a gleam in his crazed eyes. This wasn’t the proper way to start a wedding. Benaiah would never be able to whisk her away if she had no time to sit on the dais and greet well-wishers.

  “At once!” Her father’s voice rose in intensity. He stalked over to the two of them, grasped their arms, and looked sternly at Paltiel. “You must fulfill your vows at once! She must become odious to David. Now!”

  Michal frantically searched for Benaiah. Where had he gone? Through blurred vision, Michal looked at Paltiel’s profile. His head dipped forward in acquiescence. “Yes, my lord.”

  “Good.” Her father took a step back, allowing Paltiel to grasp Michal’s hand and tug her toward the wedding tent. An occasional cough or an awkward laugh filtered from the stunned crowd. The drum began its steady cadence, reminiscent of a year ago when David had pulled her from the dais. She had felt his excitement seep through his fingers, which had been tightly clasped around hers. Paltiel’s hands were clammy, and she wondered what thoughts raced through his mind. How would she convince him to wait with her father standing guard outside? And where was Benaiah?

  Paltiel lifted the flap and motioned Michal to pass under his raised arm. She ducked into the candlelit tent, a thousand romantic memories assaulting her. When the flap dropped in place and Paltiel moved closer to her in the center of the room, she backed away from him, wishing somehow she could rush past him, past her father, to David. If she had a knife, she would slit the tent’s linen fabric and crawl through, away from this awful night. Instead, she stood rigid, willing him to keep his distance.

  “Are you afraid of me, Michal?” Paltiel’s tender tone surprised her. He took a step toward her, then another, until he was within arm’s length. His fingers touched a smooth strand of her hair and tickled the back of her ear. She turned away, embarrassed and confused. Why did his touch send pleasant feelings through her?

  “Stay away from me, Paltiel.”

  Silence.

  “Let her go, Paltiel. She belongs to David.”

  Benaiah! He must have slipped in through the back of the tent. Hope surged, and Michal took a step toward the sound of Benaiah’s whispered voice.

  “Don’t be a fool, Benaiah. One word from me, and Saul’s guards will cut you down. There is no escape for either of you. Do you honestly think I would be foolish enough to disobey the king?”

  “You can’t do this. She’s another man’s wife!”

  The drumbeat masked their heated, whispered words until Paltiel raised his voice. “If you don’t leave now, Benaiah, I will call the guard at once and have you put out of Gibeah. I suggest you disappear, before the king does worse things to you than Michal will ever experience from my hand.”

  Michal studied the young guard, her heart sinking. Despite his obvious strength and massive size, he was outnumbered. Like David, running from danger was his only option.

  “You must go, Benaiah. And God be with you.” She met his miserable gaze and forced a smile, her back to Paltiel. David. Her mouth formed the word, and she caught the guard’s almost imperceptible nod. A moment later he slid under the back of the tent, leaving her alone again with Paltiel.

  Paltiel’s hand on her shoulder made her jump. She scooted toward the back of the tent. “Do not touch me, Paltiel.”

  She watched his dark eyes grow impatient, smoldering. He took a step forward.

  “I can’t do that, Michal. Your father is waiting.”

  Heat flamed her cheeks, and she set her gaze on him. “Let him wait,” she whispered. “Please, Paltiel. If you love me, take me to David.” She hated the emotion in her voice.

  His sudden look of compassion and pity both comforted and irritated her.

  He closed the gap farther between them and toyed with the fringe of her veil. “I don’t want to take you to David, Michal. Besides, why would I want to give you back to a man who deserted you? One who will soon be dead anyway? Do you really want to wait until you are widowed to share my love?”

  She lowered her lashes and studied the sand-colored hairs curling around the cuffs of his striped robe. Silent tears clung to her lashes. Paltiel’s fingers cupped her warm cheek before reaching to remove the veil from her hair. She stood immovable as he pulled the combs from her long tresses, her tears spilling onto his arm.

  Despite his tender ministrations, Michal’s tears continued. And when he donned his robe and strode from the tent to the boisterous laughter of friends and the approving backslaps of her father, Michal wept.

  19

  “David . . . Uncle . . . there you are.”

  David stepped out from behind a rock monolith above the cave at Adullam. “What is it, Joab?”

  “There is a man here to see you.”

  “I’ve noticed the multitudes of men joining us. I’ll be down to meet with all of them shortly.” He looked out over the terra-cotta landscape at the valley’s winding dirt road.

  Joab stood with arms crossed, his feet set in a commanding stance. “Nevertheless, I wouldn’t have interrupted you if this weren’t important, David. You need to meet this man right away.”

  “Is Saul coming up the road?”

  “No.”

  “Then I’ll be down shortly.” He dismissed Joab with a wave of his hand and walked back to the edge of the cliff until he heard his nephew’s footfalls drift into the distance. Joab forgot his place too often these days. Sometimes David wondered who was really in charge. Would his family follow the leading of their youngest without question? He glanced over his shoulder at his secret praying spot and sighed.

  O Adonai, in You I put my trust. Let me never be ashamed.

  He stood, arms raised, longing gaze toward the heavens.

  Pull me out of the net that they have laid for me, for You are my strength. Into Your hand I commit my spirit.

  Peace settled, raising his confidence.

  You have redeemed me, O Lord, God of truth.

  With sure-footed ease, David descended the hill and entered the mouth of the biggest cave. A fire blazed in the center near the front, where several men congregated. He spotted Joab, who sprang to his feet the moment their gazes connected and motioned David toward the darker recesses of the cave. David took a torch from beside the fire and touched it to the flame, then followed.

  “This way.” Joab pointed to a tunnel leading off to the right. “He traveled for two nights to get here with nothing but the clothes on his back. I didn’t know how long you would be off by yourself praying, so I bid the baggage keeper to find him a blanket and told him to rest.”

  “How uncharacteristically kind of you, Nephew.” He gave Joab a pointed look, ignoring the subtle reprimand in Joab’s tone.

  “It was the least I could do.” Joab’s sarcasm was not lost on David.

  “So who is this man?”

  “Saul’s guard Benaiah.” Joab stopped walking and nodded toward a man sprawled out on a blanket, his breathing shallow as though he were lightly dozing.

  At David’s approach the guard stirred, and at the sight of David he stood. “My lord.” He knelt at David’s feet. “I have come to pledge allegiance to you. King Saul has done something . . .” He paused, his thick shoulders lifting in a pronounced sigh, as though
the next words pained him. “I cannot be loyal to a man who does not follow the laws of the God of Israel.”

  A throbbing began at the back of David’s neck, and the man’s expression filled him with uneasy tension. “Explain yourself, Soldier.”

  Benaiah straightened and lifted a meaty hand in an act of surrender. “I am your servant, my lord. King Saul cannot be trusted . . . not after what he’s done.”

  David read a message in Benaiah’s eyes he wasn’t sure he wanted to see. He scraped one hand through his already rumpled hair.

  “What has he done? Tell me quickly.”

  The guard’s expression grew pensive. Was that pity in his eyes? Or anger?

  “He has annulled your marriage to his daughter Michal.”

  “His action carries no weight. We are married in the sight of God.”

  “As I said, my lord, the king does not follow the laws of our God.”

  As was evidenced by the king’s relentless pursuit to kill him, but that was nothing new.

  “So we’ll get her back. Take some men with you, Benaiah, and sneak into Gibeah and bring her to me. I paid a high price for her. She’s mine.” When Benaiah didn’t move, David said, “Don’t just stand there, Soldier. Do what I tell you.”

  “Yes, my lord. But there is something else you must know.”

  Something stirred inside him, a fear so deep he couldn’t bear to know the truth—and couldn’t bear not to. An all- over trembling spread through his limbs, and heat filled his face. “Tell me.”

  Benaiah dropped his gaze as he fidgeted with his hands. David wanted to wrench the words from him and at the same time command him never to speak again. He drew in a slow breath, forcing his impatience in check.

  “My lord, the king has given your wife to another man. Two nights ago she married Paltiel, son of Laish of Gallim.”

  His words hung in the oppressive silence. David’s lungs burned, nearly bursting with the need to take a deep breath. The torch flickered as if the air had been drained from the small space to suffocate them all. He whirled about, gasping, and rushed through the dark tunnel to the mouth of the cave.

  Oh, Adonai, not Michal. Have You not taken everything else? His home, his position, his good name, his best friend . . . He couldn’t take Michal too.

  What do You want from me, Lord?

  Like a drunken man, David staggered out of the cave, pushing past the hundreds of men flocking the area, men who had come to him for refuge. But he was nobody’s refuge. He was not a shepherd of men as Jonathan had once thought. He couldn’t even protect his own wife.

  Michal.

  He stumbled on, trudging blindly hand over hand up the side of the mountain again. Jagged rocks cut into his palms, and pebbles scraped his knees. Oblivious to the stinging pain, David scrambled higher until he reached his sanctuary, where he collapsed in a heap.

  Michal. Oh, God, why?

  He should never have left her behind in the first place. Even now, if he had even a hint of authority, he ought to be able to reclaim her. But truth be told, he had no authority, no power to command. He could not undo what the king had chosen to do. Not until he was king himself. Which could happen tomorrow . . . or ten years hence.

  He laid his head in the dirt and tossed dust over his hair. It was too much. If this was the cost of gaining the kingdom, he didn’t want it anymore.

  Take it away, Lord. I am not worthy to be king.

  Unable to sustain his emotion any longer, David crawled over to a secluded crevice and retched.

  20

  One Year Later

  Michal paced from parapet to twin towers to descending stairs and back again. The roof still afforded a small semblance of refuge. At least here she could escape the dim halls and prisonlike structure of the palace as well as the house she once shared with David—which she was now forced to live in with Paltiel. Despite their year together, Michal could not accept the man as her true husband, barely tolerating his presence and his touch.

  She strode to the edge of the roof overlooking the road to the city gate. A lifetime had passed since the days when she stood here waiting for the harpist to comfort her, to strum his gentle fingers over the chords of her heart. Would she ever see him again? Would he want her if she did?

  Unwanted memories of her first night with Paltiel and her father’s resultant glee vexed her overwrought nerves. If only she’d gone with David. Even now she could be with him, listening to the melodic strains of his sweet voice easing her worries.

  “What are you doing here, Michal?” Paltiel’s harsh voice startled her, and she whirled to face him.

  “I think I can go where I want to in my father’s house.” Anger flared at his intrusion. How dare he interrupt her quiet place!

  “Not anymore.” He stepped closer and gripped her arm. “You’re coming with me.”

  She wrenched free of his grasp and spit in his beard. “Leave me alone, Paltiel! You can’t control me.”

  He wiped his beard with his sleeve, then looked at her, his stern gaze fixing her feet to the roof’s floor. “You misunderstand the meaning of husband, Michal. Perhaps David was too weak to control his wife, but I’m not.” His fingers closed over her wrist in a painful grip, and he pulled her close enough to feel his hot breath on her face. “You will go where I tell you and do what I tell you, Michal. And you will not come up to this roof again. Do you understand, Wife?”

  How dare he! How dare he, a common guard, tell her, a princess in Israel, what she could and could not do!

  “Why are you treating me like this, Paltiel? You got what you wanted.” She allowed her voice a hint of emotion, and tears filled her eyes.

  “I don’t trust you, Michal. You’ve run away more than once.”

  “And gotten nowhere.” Her voice raised a notch. “Please, you’re hurting me.”

  He pulled her closer. “I’m not hurting you, Michal. Stop the pretending.”

  She twisted her wrist in an unsuccessful attempt to get him to release his grip. “You are too hurting me!” The fact that he hadn’t slapped her for spitting in his face amazed her. She had treated him horribly much of the past year when most of the time, if she were honest with herself, he had done his best to be kind to her. Still, she shouldn’t belong to him. And she didn’t want to.

  “I’ll overlook your disrespect for the moment, Michal, though I should punish you for it. Don’t think I haven’t considered the thought.” He bent next to her ear. “But if you don’t change your attitude, I will be forced to resort to other measures.”

  Every fiber in her being longed to jerk free and run from him, but common sense told her that feigned submission was probably better. Someday, when David returned for her and she was queen, she’d repay Paltiel for his impertinence. In the meantime, if she wanted to gain control, she must give in once in a while.

  “I’m sorry, my lord. Forgive your maidservant.” She lowered her lashes in a humble stance. “I don’t understand why you don’t want me to come up here, though.”

  Paltiel’s eyes assessed her. “Let’s just say you don’t need to be reminded of the past.” He kissed her forehead. “Understand?” He released his grip and guided her toward the steps.

  “Yes, my lord.” She understood plenty. It didn’t mean she had to obey.

  Cool mountain breezes lifted the turban from David’s forehead as he stood with staff in hand watching the road, a mere threadlike line winding away from the cliffs westward toward the sea. A sea clearly visible from the hills of Gath, but in the desert stronghold, a mere memory against the cloudless blue sky. His gaze lingered on the far-off horizon just the same. Oh, to be like a bird and fly off to such places. He blew out a slow breath. At least the stronghold offered them safety. After months at Adullam and his trek into Moab to Mizpah to deliver his parents to safety, it felt good to rest without having to constantly watch his back. Even if Saul coaxed every man in Israel to attack him here, they’d never scale the cliff sidewalls of the mountaintop fortress undetect
ed.

  He pulled his eyes away from the comforting vista and looked down on the bustling city below. His contingent of six hundred men now burgeoned with women and children, creating a community rather than a military atmosphere.

  If only Michal could have joined him here. That a year had passed since he’d lost her . . . The news Benaiah had brought still grieved him, and it irked him to realize that he had allowed her to have such a hold over him. It was time to put her aside and take a new bride. If Adonai still planned to make him king, a promise he intermittently doubted and clung to, then he needed a wife to give him sons.

  The king has given your wife to another man.

  His fists involuntarily flexed, jaw clenching. He stared at the view before him and sighed. Yes, he needed a wife. But who? On impulse, he turned and began the slow climb down from his lookout post. He passed a group of women sitting around a fire pit, grinding wheat kernels. A short distance from them, another handful of women sat pounding dried tree bark. The spicy scent lingered in the puffs of reddish-brown air, and David stood still, groping for a distant memory. Glancing up, he spotted Joab trotting toward him.

  “Joab, smell that.” He sniffed and pointed to the second group of women. “Where have I smelled that scent before?”

  Joab quirked one eyebrow at David. “Cinnamon is familiar fare, David. You’ve smelled the spice all your life.” His quizzical look deepened into a scowl. “Are you all right, Uncle?”

  David rubbed his scraggly beard. “I’ve smelled it someplace, though. It came from a woman, like her skin or hair was dipped in the scent.”

  Joab lifted both brows now and smiled. “Women often mix different spices to create appealing perfumes, my lord. You probably got a whiff of one of them.”

  David shook his head and stuffed his hands in the folds of his robe. His gaze traversed the compound, his mind whirring. A moment later he slapped his thigh.

  “Samuel! I smelled it the last time I saw him.”

  “Well, of course, Samuel’s anointing oil was scented with cinnamon,” Joab said. His doubtful expression made David chuckle. “I hardly think your anointing was a laughing matter, my lord.”