Michal

by Jill Eileen Smith

  Paltiel shivered. How many battles had he and Abner executed to little or no avail? How many men of Israel had died trying to keep David’s men from advancing? Yet David’s kingdom only grew stronger, and Abner’s promised solutions had gotten them nowhere.

  He stepped farther beneath the roof’s protection, taking in the guards flanking each entry. Ishbosheth lived in fear for his life—when he wasn’t distracted by food and drink and pleasures that had nothing to do with making the kingdom secure. The new king was late to rise—not an uncommon occurrence—and Paltiel wondered if Abner had the same problem this morning.

  The clouds shifted and raced across the heavens as the wind picked up. Paltiel clutched the folds of his robe and cinched them tighter against his neck, scanning the short distance from Ishbosheth’s home to Abner’s. Between the two larger buildings, smaller buildings housing Saul’s wife, his concubine, Rizpah, and Ishbosheth’s wives stretched in an L-shape, creating a link from the king to his general. Abner’s home continued the L-shape like a sprawling arm, as though the general’s home was of equal importance to Israel’s king. The setup was far different from Saul’s fortress. But then Ishbosheth was not the warrior and leader his father had been.

  And most of Israel knew it.

  A sudden gust of cool wind slapped Paltiel across the face while rain dropped wide circles over the courtyard’s stones. Through his peripheral vision he caught a flash of red and whipped his head toward the outcropping of buildings. Was that Abner leaving Rizpah’s apartment? The general’s new red-crested robe could point him out in any crowd, and Paltiel squinted to make sure it was truly him.

  Sure enough. Despite the rain, Abner did not appear to be in a hurry. In fact, he lifted his chin and flung his shoulders back, strutting like a bridegroom emerging from his wedding tent. Could he have spent the night with Rizpah? Such an action was akin to laying claim to the kingdom! Was this Abner’s ultimate solution—to take over as king?

  Paltiel rested one hand against the mud-brick wall, his heart pounding. If Abner took over the throne, assuming Israel would follow him, they might stand a chance against David.

  The rat-a-tat-tat of water on the roof drowned out all sound, and Paltiel took a step backward away from the spray dampening his clothes. He bumped into a solid body and whirled around, wondering who would have snuck up on him without his notice. Ishbosheth’s fiery gaze, so like his father’s, cornered him.

  “Did my eyes deceive me, or was that Abner coming from the home of my concubine?”

  Paltiel swallowed. He had never been afraid of Ishbosheth. The man didn’t seem to possess the ability to invoke fear. But now the venom in his tone and his crossed arms bespoke fierce determination that could ruin everything.

  “It could have been. One can never be sure from this distance,” Paltiel lied.

  Ishbosheth shook his gray head. “Yes, you can, Paltiel.” He paused. “Abner wants my throne.”

  Flames exploded in Ishbosheth’s pale brown eyes before he turned and walked down the hall to his audience chamber. Through the slowing rain Paltiel glanced back over his shoulder toward Abner’s house. The general stood in the arch of the door, smiling.

  Changing shadows moved over the walls in Ishbosheth’s audience chamber. Few lamps were lit despite the dark day, and Paltiel’s skin shivered with impending dread.

  “When we reach the throne, do as I do,” Abner commanded in a hushed whisper.

  “Don’t I always?” The words tasted bitter on Paltiel’s tongue.

  Abner leveled him with a stern glance. Let him be angry. If this didn’t go right, he’d have only himself to blame. Besides, it would be nice if the man would let him in on what was going on.

  They came to a stop several paces from the raised dais where Ishbosheth sat, his expression a gloomy mask.

  “Why have you gone in to my father’s concubine?” Ishbosheth asked. “You’re trying to take my throne.” His flabby chest puffed out, and his double chin jutted forward.

  Abner folded both arms across his brawny chest. “Am I a dog’s head that belongs to Judah? Today I show loyalty to the house of Saul your father, to his brothers, and to his friends, and have not delivered you into the hand of David, and you charge me today with a fault concerning this woman?”

  Ishbosheth gripped the sides of his chair, and the natural olive coloring of his skin paled. Fear showed in his expression, and he seemed incapable of giving Abner an answer.

  The room grew silent, and Paltiel gritted his teeth, sensing Abner’s anger. The stalwart general stood stock-still, the only sign of his indignation a twitch in his left eye.

  Abner took a step toward Ishbosheth, causing the man to shrink from him. “May God do so to me, and more also,” Abner said, his tone low and menacing, “if I don’t do for David as the Lord has sworn to him—to transfer the kingdom from the house of Saul and set up the throne of David over Israel and Judah, from Dan to Beersheba.”

  Paltiel’s breath came out in a sudden whoosh, and Ishbosheth’s face paled even further, if that were possible. What was this? Had Abner lost his mind?

  Ishbosheth sat back in his chair and clasped his hands in his lap. The muscles in his face contorted in a visage of fear, and he began rocking back and forth. His lips were sealed together, and Paltiel could tell he would not give Abner a reply. Abner was the one who had placed Ishbosheth on the throne, and Abner could take it all away.

  The sudden stomping of Abner’s sandals across the tiles brought Paltiel out of his shocked stupor. If Abner went over to David’s side, he could take Michal with him. Spurred by a greater fear than Ishbosheth had portrayed, Paltiel raced after Abner. He caught up with him in the outer court.

  “Abner, wait!”

  Abner halted his rapid stride and turned. Paltiel hurried to his side.

  “You aren’t serious. Are you?”

  Abner’s dark eyes held a determined glint. “I said so, didn’t I?”

  “But . . . I thought the purpose of taking Rizpah was to make a move to take over the throne. Don’t you want to rule the land? Why give it over to David? We can’t let him win.” Paltiel fought back the temptation to break down and weep.

  Abner’s left eye twitched again, and Paltiel thought he noted a softening in his gaze. The general’s strong hand grasped his shoulder.

  “Initially that was my plan. Haven’t I worked beside you to pull Israel together all these years?”

  Paltiel nodded, hating the sting of unmanly tears.

  “But as I stood there watching Ishbosheth . . . well, I realized the man was never meant to be king. And God did promise David the land, you know. After losing so many men to him, I think it’s time he sees God’s promise fulfilled.”

  “And if you make it happen, you’ll be second in command.” Sudden clarity washed over him, replacing his tears and renewing his anger.

  Abner removed his hand from Paltiel’s shoulder and stiffened. “If that happens, so be it. But I will not have my cousin telling me what I can and cannot do. Ishbosheth’s days as king are over.” He turned his back to Paltiel then and stalked off.

  Paltiel stood watching Abner head toward the guardhouse and stables. Before the sun reached its zenith in the sky, the general would be on his way to destroying Paltiel’s life. Hopelessness filled him, followed by brewing indignation. Just because Abner was going over to David didn’t mean everything had to change. Maybe now was the time to take Michal out of Israel—out of David’s grasp.

  With a surge of hope, he turned in the opposite direction and ran all the way home.

  Continual scraping of stone on stone mixed with distant shouts and youthful laughter. Adriel’s children raced in circles about the yard while Keziah sat working at the millstone. Michal knelt with a clay sieve in her hands and sifted the grain for the evening bread baking, watching the soft flour grow in a pile at her feet. She took comfort in the familiarity of such menial tasks. After seven years away from Gibeah and her father’s fortress, the privileges of p
alace life held the vague fondness of a far-off memory.

  “You come back here, Benni. I’m telling!” Jacob’s shrill voice cut across the yard. “Aunt Michal!” His running feet came to an abrupt halt a few paces from the pot of freshly ground flour.

  “What is it, Jacob?” Michal blew a loose strand of hair out of her eyes.

  “Benni took my bow and won’t give it back! I can’t learn to shoot like Uncle Jonathan if I can’t practice.” The child’s wail touched a chord of sympathy in Michal’s heart. The second youngest of Merab’s children reminded her the most of Jonathan.

  “I’ll talk to Benni, all right?” She glanced across the field to where Adriel’s second oldest stood holding the bow aloft, taunting his little brother. She was about to raise her arm and motion for him to come when her gaze caught a man running toward the house.

  He drew closer, and Michal recognized Paltiel’s frantic gait. Something was wrong. She felt a soft tugging on the sleeve of her robe.

  “He’s running away, Aunt Michal.”

  Michal’s gaze drifted to catch Benni streaking across the field toward his father’s home, out of her immediate reach. A brief moment later she jerked her head in Paltiel’s direction. Something in his expression sent Michal’s heart into a wild gallop.

  “I’ll deal with him later, Jacob. Run along and be good for Aunt Michal.” She barely glanced down at the child while patting his head. Midmorning sun warmed her already flushed cheeks as she stood and turned her attention to Paltiel who was now sprinting to her side. Michal still clutched the clay sieve in one hand.

  “We have to leave right away,” Paltiel blurted, bending forward and dragging in a long breath. “Pack your things. I’ll bring the donkey and cart.”

  Michal stared at him. Was he out of his mind? She lifted her free hand to touch his sweaty arm. “Tell me what happened.”

  Paltiel gulped another breath, ripped the turban from his head, and raked his fingers through his sand-colored hair. “Abner has gone over to David. If he has his way, and you know he will, all Israel will be under David’s rule. I have to get you out of here.”

  The sieve slipped from Michal’s hand, shattering on the stones of the court. “I thought Abner was going to try to be king himself.”

  “So did I. But he had a run-in with Ishbosheth and apparently changed his mind. Besides, if he gets Israel to follow David without further bloodshed, he could end up second in command of the entire kingdom. Sounds like the general decided to set his sights higher than ruling a mere eleven tribes.”

  Michal didn’t miss the sarcasm in Paltiel’s tone, but at the same time, her thoughts turned to David and the possible consequences of his rule. Obviously Paltiel was convinced their marriage was in danger.

  “Did you hear me, Michal? We have to leave Mahanaim. Once Abner meets with David, there’s no telling what could happen to Saul’s family. If David is in a foul mood, he might order our deaths. I have to protect you.” He grabbed her arm and attempted to urge her into the house. “Keziah, start packing,” he commanded with a backward glance.

  Michal stood rigid, holding her ground. “David won’t hurt my family, Paltiel. If he’d wanted to do that, he would have done so long ago.”

  Paltiel loosened his grip and looked into her eyes. “Yes, but he could take you away from me. If we leave Israel, he won’t have any power over us.” His expression held such deep pain that Michal’s heart lurched, and she longed to comfort him. But another part of her held back. Whether it seemed like it or not, she was still a princess in Israel. She didn’t want to live like an outcast in a foreign land.

  “I’m not going, Paltiel. You can leave if you must, but I can’t leave my homeland.”

  “But, Michal . . . I could lose you.” His voice rose a notch, tinged with emotion.

  “I’m a king’s daughter, Paltiel. I would be no safer in another country than in my own. Besides, it’s possible David has forgotten all about me. In that case, you’ll have nothing to worry about. But in the meantime, I’ve got five boys to look out for, and I’m not leaving.” She hadn’t spoken so harshly since the early days of their marriage when she was still in love with David.

  “Does our marriage mean nothing to you, Michal?”

  She looked into his stricken face and fought the urge to hold him and promise him anything. Too many things hung in the balance. Too much was at stake.

  “I don’t know that our marriage is in any danger, my love. Let’s just wait and see. Please.” She touched his arm then and caught her breath when he hugged her in a sudden, firm embrace.

  “I love you, Michal. I think you’re wrong not to worry, and I should demand that you obey me.” He paused, and she watched his Adam’s apple rise and fall in his throat. “But for your sake . . . I will wait a few days. We will see what Abner will do.” He held her at arm’s length. “I only hope I don’t live to regret it.”

  29

  A cool breeze tickled the hairs on David’s arms during his evening walk in the secluded courtyard set apart for his wives and children. A series of doors opened onto the court, designating the different apartments for the now six women in his harem. Strange how after acquiring Maacah, the Geshurite princess, he was able to take the rest without a second thought. Keeping the goodwill of the tribes and nations seemed a huge benefit for such a small price to pay.

  And God had blessed him. Six sons and one lovely daughter had been born to him in Hebron. What better proof was there than this that the Lord was strengthening his house and at the same time weakening Saul’s?

  He sat down on a stone bench in the center of the court and gazed at the beauty of the surrounding garden. One of the doors squeaked open, and a dark-haired toddler poked his head out. At the sight of David, he burst through the door and came running full tilt.

  “Abba!” he cried, flinging himself onto David’s lap. He clasped his chubby arms around David’s neck and hugged him tight.

  David chuckled, returning the boy’s exuberant embrace. “Absalom.” He kissed the child’s forehead and bounced the boy on one knee. “And how have you been today, my son?”

  The boy’s lip curled in a sudden pout. “Can I play in the field, Abba? Mama said no ’cause I’ll get dirty!”

  Unexpected indignation filled David, and for a moment he thought about marching into Maacah’s apartment and demanding to know why she restricted his son from the simple pleasures of being a boy. He didn’t want his sons growing up to be weak-kneed women. Getting dirty was part of the normal progression to manhood.

  “Abba?” Absalom’s chubby hand clutched his sleeve.

  Before David could respond, other doors opened, and two more sons appeared at his side.

  “I’ll talk to your mother about it,” he promised Absalom, rubbing the thick, dark curls back and forth across his head.

  He continued to bounce the child as Amnon, his oldest, and Chileab, his second born, approached his side. “Good evening, Abba,” Amnon said, eyes downcast. He stood shyly, almost afraid to speak—an action that annoyed David. He must speak to Ahinoam about the way she was raising him. Firstborn of his loins should be heir apparent to his throne, but Amnon did not strike him as the kind of child who possessed kingly qualities.

  “How are you today, Amnon?” David asked, forcing himself to smile at the boy.

  “I am well, thank you.” He dropped his gaze again.

  David turned to Chileab. “And how is Chileab this fine evening?”

  The boy’s eyes were bright, his smile genuine. He stepped forward and crawled up on David’s other knee, then leaned forward to kiss David’s cheek. “I always feel best when you are here, Abba.”

  Chileab troubled David. His five-year-old frame was too thin, too weak. If not for the accident . . . He forced his mind not to focus on that now.

  David hugged the two boys to him, then looked up to see Abigail and Maacah emerge from their apartments. Maacah carried his daughter, Tamar, on her hip. David was about to remove his two sons f
rom his lap when rapid footsteps approached. He lifted his head and turned to see the intruder, his faithful guard Benaiah.

  “My lord, I am sorry to interrupt, but you must come at once,” Benaiah said, exhaling a swift breath.

  Benaiah did not agitate easily, and David read his expression like a scroll. He felt Chileab kiss his cheek one more time and slip from his knee, but Absalom clung to his neck. “Can I come with you, Abba?” he whispered.

  David looked into the boy’s dark eyes so like his mother’s. This child had a way of moving him. Maybe it was his engaging beauty. Maybe the boy just knew how to manipulate his heartstrings.

  “Please, Abba!”

  David usually gave in to his pleadings, but he heard Benaiah clear his throat, and one glance at the man made him change his mind.

  “No, Absalom. Not this time. Abba will let you come to court some other day. Tonight we may be up well past your bedtime.” He looked to Maacah for support, relieved when she stepped closer and extended her hand.

  “Come along, Absalom. Abba has important business. He’ll come again later, when he can.” She took the boy’s hand when David set him on the ground, then cast David a beguiling smile. He knew she expected him to come back this night. He looked away, refusing to acknowledge the hidden message, then followed Benaiah back into the house.

  After donning his royal robe, David’s brisk strides carried him to his paneled audience chamber, where he took his seat on a padded throne. Torches had been lit and placed in clay pots along the walls as dusk settled over the town. Benaiah stood watch at the entryway while David’s recorder hurried over to his table, picked up a reed pen, and readied the scroll. Whatever transpired here this night would hold some significance, and David wanted a record of it.