Michal

by Jill Eileen Smith

  The boy leaned back on his heels. “My lord, I bring news. Bad news, I’m afraid.”

  David clasped his hands in front of him. “Go on.”

  “Joab, the king’s nephew and commander, and his brother Abishai have killed Abner, son of Ner, general of Israel’s army.”

  Michal’s heart plummeted. Fear dried her throat, and her clammy hands began to shake. Abner was dead? Abner controlled most of Israel. Abner represented her father’s last ruling power in the land. More than this, Abner was her cousin—one more loss in her family. Michal swallowed a remnant of grape skin still on her tongue, nearly choking on the ripe fruit. How many more members of her family would die in this constant vying for power?

  “How did this happen?” She heard David’s stricken voice and twisted in her seat for a better view of him.

  “Joab sent word to Abner to return to Hebron. They met at the gate, where Joab pulled him aside to speak with him privately. Only instead of talking, Joab stabbed him in the stomach to avenge the death of his brother Asahel.” The boy’s words came out in a rush, as though he couldn’t say them fast enough.

  Michal’s gaze moved from the messenger to David. His complexion had paled, and he rose slowly to his feet. “Where is Joab now?”

  “He is still at the gate, my lord, with his brother Abishai. His men are bringing Abner’s body to your courtyard. What would you have us do, my lord?”

  David’s color returned in deeper hues, sparks flashing from his dark eyes. “Prepare Abner’s body for burial. And send for Joab and Abishai.” He glanced at the window. “We will summon the townspeople and go first thing in the morning to the burial cave.” He dismissed the messenger with a wave of his hand, then summoned Benaiah with another.

  “Yes, my lord.” Benaiah bowed.

  “Make sure Joab and Abishai are with us before dawn to join the procession of mourners.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Michal watched Benaiah march across the hall into the courtyard. The once luscious food now looked repulsive. She should follow the man and await Abner’s body in the court, but she couldn’t stomach the thought. Her gaze drifted to David, who was engaged in whispered conversation with the man on his right. His problems would be multiplied now. She stood, catching a glimpse of sympathy on the faces of some of David’s wives. She straightened her shoulders. She didn’t need their pity.

  With purpose in her steps, Michal strode across the banquet hall, head high, chin tipped up. Eyes fixed on the door, she walked back to her apartment where she might, if God were gracious, fall into a forgetful sleep.

  “Tear your clothes, gird yourselves with sackcloth, and mourn for Abner.” David’s steady voice carried across the court, spilling over the gathered crowd and into the surrounding fields. Michal stood near the bier, staring at the still form of her once vibrant cousin, her hands tucked into the folds of her already torn robe. A trail of ashes created smudge marks along her veil and floated from her hair to the ground.

  Hundreds of townspeople lined the court, Joab and Abishai at their head. They should be executed for what they’d done. But Michal knew instinctively David could never order their deaths.

  “My kingdom and I are guiltless before the Lord forever of the blood of Abner, son of Ner.” Michal slowly turned at the sound of David’s words. “Let it rest on the head of Joab and on his father’s house, and let there never fail to be in the house of Joab one who has a discharge or is a leper, who leans on a staff or falls by the sword, or who lacks bread.”

  Michal caught David’s expression and noted the fierce tone, recognizing his frustration. After a few curt commands from David, Joab and Abishai led the procession to the outskirts of town to a large burial cave. David stepped behind the bier, head bowed, but when the body passed in front of her, David extended his hand and pulled Michal to his side.

  His warm fingers wrapped around her palm, making her eyes fill with fresh tears. She could feel his perusal, and as they walked, he whispered in her ear, “I’m so sorry, Michal. This was not my intent.”

  “A king can’t always know what his subjects are up to, my lord.” She glanced into his stricken face, stifling the longing to brush the ashes from his cheek.

  “Would that he could,” he said softly, squeezing her hand. “Abner deserved better.”

  David didn’t know the many unkind things Abner had spoken of him in times past. If he did, he might welcome the loss. But Michal couldn’t tell him. No sense sullying her family’s name.

  When they reached the burial cave, David released her hand and raised his arms toward heaven, weeping. Were his tears genuine? But Michal’s own blurred vision kept her from studying her husband’s expression.

  “Should Abner die as a fool dies?” David’s voice cut above the scattered wailing. “Your hands were not bound nor your feet put into fetters. As a man falls before wicked men, so you fell.”

  It would have been better if Abner had died in battle. At least that would have been honorable. Following David’s example, Michal bent to scoop dirt from the ground and poured it over her veil of sackcloth, letting it mix with her tears. Abner’s men rolled the heavy stone from the cave’s entrance, picked up the bier, and carried Abner’s lifeless body into the tomb. Michal’s shoulders heaved, and she covered her face with her trembling hands. The touch of warm flesh on her arm made her jump, but in an instant she found herself wrapped in David’s strong arms.

  “Oh, David! I’ve lost everyone,” she wailed against his sackcloth.

  She felt his fingers rub circles along her back. “You’ve got me, beloved.” He kissed her cheek and held her close for a long moment.

  She didn’t really have him. Not the way she used to. Not the way she wanted him. But she held her tongue. She allowed him to lead her back to his royal house, where a feast awaited the mourners. David personally seated her and sat beside her in the outer court of his home.

  “My lord, the food is waiting. Can I get you something? Some wine perhaps?” a servant asked.

  “Yes, my lord. You need your strength,” another said.

  A small group gathered around them, holding trays of food and urging David to eat.

  David stood, his hands raised, quieting the crowd. “God do so to me, and more also, if I taste bread or anything else until the sun goes down!” He looked at his servants. Michal noticed Joab and Abishai at the edge of the crowd. “Don’t you know that a prince and a great man has fallen this day in Israel? I am weak today, though anointed king, and these men, the sons of Zeruiah, are too harsh for me. The Lord will repay the evildoer according to his wickedness.”

  Michal watched admiration light the eyes of the men surrounding them. She glanced at her husband, her own pride swelling at his devotion to her family. If only they could have been together from the start of his reign. If only she had gone with him into exile and stayed forever at his side. She could have influenced David to give someone else control of the army—perhaps even Abner right from the beginning. So much could be different, so much loss avoided.

  When he sat beside her again, awaiting the setting sun, she slipped her hand through the crook of his arm. “You will make a good king,” she whispered, leaning toward him.

  The smile he gave her melted her heart.

  A cacophony of sounds filtered through the open window in David’s private chambers, dragging Michal out of a deep, restful sleep. She stretched her arms overhead, stifling a yawn.

  “Finally awake, sleepyhead?” David turned from looking down on his bustling household and walked toward her. “I was just about to dress for court.” He sat beside her and began to trace the outline of her face with his forefinger before bending to kiss her cheek. “Did you sleep well, my love?”

  “Better than I have in months.” She pulled one hand from beneath the lamb’s wool covers and touched the fine, curly dark hairs on his arm. “Are you going to announce a queen at your coronation, David? You really should give one of your wives priority over the others, you
know. It keeps the bickering to a minimum.”

  She watched his eyes twinkle and a smile lift the edges of his wavy brown beard. One strong hand cupped her cheek, making her heart do a little flip.

  “You’re jumping ahead of yourself, Michal. I’ve still got to bring all the tribes together under my rule. Abner’s death slowed things down, you know.”

  “Yes, but you will be king. You know you will. Surely you’ve begun preparations for your coronation day.” She offered him a demure smile and let her fingers travel along his arm. “As your first wife and daughter of the previous king, I think I’m the most qualified for the job, don’t you, my lord?”

  He’d been so kind in the week since Abner’s death, giving her the privileges of first wife and the exclusive right to his time, like she was a newly married bride. It gave her the courage to even pose the question.

  His hand covered hers, and he lifted her fingers to his lips. “I’ll give it some thought, my love. In the meantime—”

  The sudden knock at the door stopped David’s words. He rose to answer. Michal slid farther beneath the covers.

  “My lord,” Benaiah spoke loud enough for Michal to hear, “there are two men come from the court of Ishbosheth to see you. They are waiting in the audience chamber.”

  “Thank you, Benaiah, I’ll be right there.” He closed the door behind the retreating guard and retrieved his royal robe from a peg along the far wall.

  Michal slipped from under the blanket and snatched her own robe from a chair beside the bed. She must get back to her apartment and change. Perhaps the messengers had come ahead of her brother to lead the tribal elders into an agreement with David. Surely even simple Ishby would see the wisdom in such a move now that Abner was dead. Unless Paltiel tried to convince him otherwise.

  Her jaw clenched at the annoying thought. Paltiel had spent years keeping her from David. If he’d been any kind of decent man, he would have never taken her to be his wife. The thought surprised her. Had her love for Paltiel been mingled with this resentment all along? How quickly David had made her forget the man, reawakening the dreams and ambitions of her youth. If she could only convince David to do as she asked . . .

  She heard David’s feet march across the wooden floor and stop in front of her. “I’ll see you tonight, my love.” His promised warmed her, and she lifted her chin to accept his kiss before he strode from the room.

  Michal hurried along the corridors of the king’s house, sandals slapping along the tiled floors to the door of her apartment. She yanked the latch, grateful she’d managed to avoid the perusing, glaring looks of the other women in the harem. If she had her way, she would never be forced to deal with them, at least without having some advantage to hold over them. Becoming David’s favorite would certainly hold privileges for her.

  “Help me dress quickly, Keziah.” Michal caught the woman smoothing a freshly washed tunic. “I must look my best today. I think my brother is coming.”

  “Good thing we cleaned your best robe yesterday, my lady.” Keziah took Michal’s night robe from her outstretched hands.

  “Yes, well, soon enough I will have sequined garments and priceless jeweled robes to replace these old things. A king’s wife needs to look her best.”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  Silence settled between them as Michal allowed Keziah to comb her hair and lace it with jeweled combs. Michal took a pot of rouge from the wooden table and began to apply it to her already flushed cheeks, noting the thin lines at the edges of her eyes. It took more kohl to cover the flaws than it used to.

  “Please, my lord, reconsider!” The shout came through the open window.

  “We were only trying to help . . .”

  Anguished cries split the stillness, and Michal’s fingers froze in a clamped position around the clay pot.

  “What is it, my lady?” Keziah whispered.

  “I can’t imagine.” But a sick feeling settled in Michal’s stomach. She forced her fingers loose, set the makeup on the table, and walked to the window.

  “I can’t see a thing from here. I’m going to the audience chamber.” She raced back to the bedroom and lifted the bronze mirror to gaze at her reflection, then turned to Keziah. “Do I look all right?”

  “You look beautiful, my lady.”

  Michal set the mirror down with a thump and slipped into her sandals, and Keziah bent to tie the laces. She lifted her skirts and hurried along the halls again.

  The audience chamber was filled with men speaking in low tones. David sat on the raised dais, face ashen, head in his hands.

  The sick feeling knotted her stomach. She moved like a sleepwalker across the long room, brushing past David’s counselors and dignitaries, until she was within a handbreadth of a blood-spattered sheet spread on the floor in front of David. Her eyes followed the path of blood to discover the round, hairy head of a person, his eyes staring vacant. The soft gray curls still bore a silver crown.

  Michal’s head swam, and her knees buckled. She knew she would see that face in a thousand nightmares to come.

  Ishby!

  “No!” she cried, sinking to her knees. “No! No! No!” Her fists pounded the tile floor. “No!”

  “Michal.” David’s voice reached her ears, and she felt herself being lifted from the floor and cradled in strong arms. “What are you doing here?”

  “Ishby.” The word pushed past her aching throat. “Why?”

  “Two of his guards murdered him. Their bodies are now hanging by the pool in the center of Hebron. We will bury Ishbosheth today in the tomb of Abner. I’m so sorry.”

  She heard the words but fought the reality. She’d lost them all. Every sibling lay buried somewhere. A roaring in her ears began until the sounds around her floated above and below, just out of reach.

  “Michal, can you hear me?” The urgency in David’s tone faded, and she felt her body being lifted again. “Take her to her apartment and send for a physician. I’ll check on her after we bury her brother.”

  “Yes, my lord.” The words faded further still until Michal’s world became utter blackness.

  32

  “My lord, Michal is awaiting an audience with you.” Benaiah leaned close to David’s ear as the two walked to the royal house from the pool of Hebron, where they would hold part of the coronation celebration. “She sent word. It sounds urgent.”

  David released a deep sigh and rubbed one hand along the back of his neck. Recent days since the death of Ishbosheth had proved fruitful. God seemed to be pouring blessing upon blessing down on him. The familiar sense of humility spread through him like warm oil spilling over his hair and trickling into his beard. He would feel that sensation literally in two days when all Israel anointed him king.

  “Did she say what she wants?” David forced himself to focus on Benaiah’s words.

  “No, my lord. But I suspect you’ll find out soon enough.” He hadn’t spoken with Michal in days. Hadn’t seen any of his wives or children, for that matter. There was only so much a man could give, and his multiple wives and children tended to drain the last remnants of his energy.

  David looked up as he crossed into the royal courtyard. Michal sat on one of the stone benches, her arms folded over her chest, her shiny dark hair tucked behind a sky blue veil.

  “I guess I will.” He slowed his pace and stopped within an arm’s length of her.

  “Hello, my love. Benaiah said you wished to speak with me.” He lowered his exhilarated yet weary body onto the bench beside her, turning to look at her. “What can I do for you?”

  Michal’s dark lashes lowered, and she clasped her hands in her lap. She cleared her throat and looked at him. “Your coronation is almost here, my lord. Have you chosen who will stand at your side as queen?”

  So that was it. Did she want political position more than love? Was that why she made no fuss about coming home to him, never mentioning the man who had claimed her to David’s disgrace? He’d made sure Paltiel could never come close to her aga
in, barring him from ever leaving Mahanaim on pain of death. The man was fortunate David hadn’t had him executed. Did Michal still think of him?

  David studied her dark eyes, searching for some motive behind her words. “Isn’t my love enough for you, Michal?” He watched a surprised expression cross her beautiful face. What he wouldn’t give to undo the past and start over again with only her. Couldn’t she see that?

  Michal fidgeted with the sash of her robe, all the while holding his gaze. “It would be enough if I were your only wife, my lord. But as it is, you have taken my position and given it to six others, then snatched me from a home where I had no competition. The least you can do is give me a place of prominence in your life.”

  So she did still think of him. “We have no heir, Michal.”

  There, he’d said it. The nagging thought had troubled him whenever he’d contemplated her request over the past two weeks. In the first year of their marriage, she had miscarried once. And in seventeen years with another man, she had remained childless. What if God never gave her a son?

  He watched her tanned cheeks sport a rosy hue. “You have given every other wife a son, David. You could give me the same courtesy and devote yourself to me until we do.” The heat in her face traveled to fire in her eyes.

  “Do you think I am God, Michal? I cannot promise you this. A child is His gift, not mine.” David wiped one hand over his mouth and beard. This was not the discussion he needed right now. “Nevertheless, until you have that son, I could hardly name you my queen. In fact, I’ve given this a lot of thought, Michal, and I do not plan to name anyone in that position for now. There is no rush, and I have too many things on my mind. Enjoy the privileges I’ve given you and leave it at that, all right?”

  He watched the anger in her eyes turn into a smoldering ember. She released a disgruntled sigh.

  “You won’t name anyone then?”

  He shook his head. “Not until the Lord gives me direction.”

  Her second sigh seemed more at peace. She lowered her lashes again. “Or until I bear a son?”