Warrior Poet

by Timothy J. Stoner

  “How did he manage to hear that conversation?”

  “Sisha assigned him to work on the palace when our house was finished. He was working underneath the balcony where they were standing. You need to talk to him right away.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Downstairs with Lydea.”

  “Tell him to come up alone. I don’t want Lydea in the middle of something that might put her in danger.”

  Michal rose and went to the door. “Lydea,” she called, “send Joab up.” Before David could say anything, she told him, “I’m staying. If it has to do with you and Father, I deserve to know everything.”

  When Joab walked in, David was sitting on his padded chair. Michal was standing behind him, her hands grasping his shoulders. David’s nephew glanced down at his dusty apron, rubbing his hands over it in embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” he said, looking at Michal and then at David, pushing strands of sweaty hair under the band that circled his bushy mane.

  David waved away his concern. “It’s fine. Just tell me what you heard.”

  Joab put his arms behind his back. “I was repairing one of the first-story windows. The king and the general walked out onto the balcony above me. They were speaking softly but loudly enough for me to hear. They were talking about one of the king’s recent—episodes, the general called it. He made it sound as if it had been quite serious.”

  Joab scraped his teeth against the scar at the top of his lip, then exhaled and continued. “Abner wanted to call you to play for the king.”

  “What was his response?”

  “King Saul became extremely angry and refused.”

  “What did he say?” asked David.

  “The exact words?”

  “Yes, Joab. Don’t spare my feelings.”

  The young stonemason exhaled loudly and looked over their heads out the window behind them. “‘You’ve heard the women,’ the king said. ‘You saw how they behaved when he returned from his latest campaign. I’m sick to death of hearing that—upstart—praised from one end of Israel to another.’” As he spoke, Joab’s face was turning crimson. “‘I would die before giving that—ambitious braggart another opportunity to boast, especially at my expense.’”

  Joab kept his eyes trained on something outside the window. “Abner responded that none of his men had ever heard a seditious word from you. And he reminded Saul that your music is the only thing that has succeeded in providing relief. The king simply swore more loudly and accused Abner and his men of conspiring against him.”

  “That does not surprise me,” David muttered.

  Joab waited for David to explain himself, but when he said nothing more, he continued his report. “The general defended you—at least I thought that was what he was doing by saying that if you harbored treasonous motives he would know. ‘You can say many things about him,’ Abner told him. ‘David may be ambitious and vain, but he is not disloyal.’”

  Now David felt his cheeks flush.

  His nephew’s hazel eyes had grown bright as if guarding a secret. “It was at this point that the general said something that I think was quite important.”

  David and Michal both leaned forward.

  “The general laughed as though he were making a joke and told the king that he had more to fear from you than the king did.”

  “I knew it,” hissed Michal through clenched teeth. “I knew he resented you and your success.”

  David placed his hand over hers, trying to soothe her anger.

  Joab continued. “Something about what the general said made the king even more furious. He stamped his foot—it made the balcony shake—then said something strange. ‘I am the only one who is to be feared. And I am the only one who has reason to fear. David is my adversary, and I will never allow him to steal what is rightfully mine!’”

  “Oh, Father. Father,” Michal moaned despondently.

  “It was then that I realized what Abner had been doing,” Joab continued. “He was goading the king, for he immediately responded that if it was the king’s pleasure, he had a plan to get rid of the king’s most dangerous enemy.”

  David patted Michal’s hand. Her fingers were digging furrows in each of his shoulders. “So what does that old fox have planned for me?”

  “He said that your brothers’ resentment was common knowledge, especially Eliab’s, and he knew how to use it to the king’s advantage.”

  “It was just a matter of time,” David murmured.

  Joab fingered his scar nervously. He looked as if he wished he could spare his uncle the details.

  “Go on,” David urged. “Tell me all of it.”

  “Eliab and Abinadab will come to take you to Bethlehem to visit your father, who they will say is dying. On the way, they will attack you and claim that they were ambushed by Philistine raiders.”

  Michal let out a gasp, then wrapped her arms around David’s neck.

  “What about Shimeah?” David asked.

  “He was not mentioned. I would guess he was left out of the plot, since the general was not certain he could be trusted.”

  David nodded grimly.

  “This is where the plot becomes even more clever,” Joab said. “The general will have another squad bring back a report that they witnessed the killing and will contradict your brothers. They will make sure that Eliab and Abinadab take full blame for the murder. The general will have them executed, and his role in the plot will remain a secret.”

  A cry broke from Michal’s lips. David stood, turned, and placed his hands alongside her face, wiping the angry tears from her cheeks. She pounded her fist against his chest. “I wish he would die! I’ll take care of that vile man. Jonathan and I will go to Father. We will convince him that it is the general who has designs on the crown.”

  “Don’t get upset, Eglah,” David said, trying to expel her fears with the intensity of his stare. “You know how your father is. He gets angry, makes impulsive decisions, then more often than not changes his mind. It will blow over, you’ll see.” He did not believe his own words but needed to say something to calm his terrified wife.

  He turned to Joab. “When were my brothers supposed to do their dirty deed?”

  A note of alarm crept into Joab’s voice. “That’s the problem. Abner insisted that it be done quickly. It is planned for tonight. I would have come sooner, but I could not get away from the palace earlier without alerting the king’s spies.”

  “Tonight?” Michal gasped.

  “It’s what the general said. I’m sure of it.”

  “How much time do we have?” she asked.

  “They will be here at evening. After dinner.”

  Michal wiped her hands over her eyes, and her shoulders straightened. “That gives us a few hours, then.” Ice was creeping into her voice, and she sounded dangerous. She strode over to Joab. “Thank you for coming, and thank you for your loyalty to my husband. But you need to go back before someone starts asking about you.”

  When they were alone, Michal grabbed David’s hands. “I have a plan,” she said. “I’m almost certain it will work. But there is not much time. I need to get with Lydea so she can help.”

  He was stunned by his wife’s transformation. She was the one acting like a military commander.

  “You wait here till I call for you.” She kissed him once, then walked out of the room before he could protest.

  After sunset, David took the stairs down to the first floor. It had taken the entire afternoon to dismiss all the house servants and send them to their quarters without raising any alarms. As Michal had instructed him, David brought down a thick, coiled rope that the stonemasons had left behind. He tied one end around a pillar in the dining room and threw the other end over the low wall that ran the length of the back porch overlooking the rocky cliff. The bag holding his kinnor was strapped across his chest, and Jonat
han’s sword hung at his waist.

  Michal had been talking to Lydea in the front room, and when the rope was ready she ran up to him and threw her arms around his neck. She did not make a sound. Over her shoulder David could see the cliff falling away into the darkness. Suddenly she loosened her arms, her lips set in a determined line.

  “Remember, hide in the rocks, and if my plan works, I will wave a lamp; if not, I will wave two.” She was repeating instructions she had given several times already. “That will mean you need to flee as far and as fast as you can. I’ll make sure Jonathan gets word to you when it’s safe to return.”

  “Two men are coming!” Lydea whispered from the other side of the house. She was looking out one of the front windows.

  David looked into Michal’s glistening eyes and kissed her quickly. He ran to Lydea and gave her a hurried hug and kiss on both cheeks. “Good-bye, Yaya,” he told her.

  “Yahweh Sabaoth be with you, my ahuvee.” She held his hands for a moment, then let him go.

  David ran to the rope, started to lower himself over the edge, then paused. “If it is two, tell Joab to meet me on the training grounds.”

  “I will, my love. Hurry!” Looking down at him, Michal blew him a last kiss.

  The knock came as Michal was untying the rope.

  “Who is it?” Lydea asked after waiting several moments.

  “We are David’s brothers, and we have an urgent message about our father.”

  Lydea mouthed to Michal that Eliab was the speaker.

  “We need to talk with him immediately.”

  When Michal had hidden the rope in the closest cupboard, Lydea opened the door. After the men introduced themselves, Michal led Eliab and Abinadab to the second-story bedroom. She positioned herself in the doorway so that the two men had to look past her. She and Lydea had pushed the bed as far from the door as possible so that the mound in the middle would be obscured in shadow. “My husband has taken ill. I’ve given him some medicine that has put him to sleep. He should not be disturbed.”

  The men looked at each other nervously. Eliab eventually spoke. “Our commander told us it was imperative to let David know.” He looked at his brother, seeming uncertain. Abinadab gave a slight shrug. “We will relay the situation to Commander Manoah and see what he says,” Eliab finally grumbled, turning to walk back down the stairs.

  Abinadab’s hawk eyes were filled with suspicion. “I can assure you that we will be back,” he said, casting a long look at the bed before turning away.

  The two women sat together on a bench in the courtyard. The fountain tinkled quietly behind them. They held hands but did not say anything, waiting with sick apprehension for David’s brothers to return. Eventually, they heard the sound of running feet, and this time the front door burst open and the two rushed into the courtyard. They were perspiring and breathing heavily. Eliab could not conceal his eagerness. “Our commander insists that David come with us. Our father is dying, and we must leave immediately, regardless of our brother’s condition.” Without waiting for Michal to respond, they raced up the stairs.

  They entered the dim room almost at a run and flung back the covers. Underneath was Michal’s large teraphim idol, with a mass of goat hair at the head. Eliab spun to face Michal, who was standing just inside the door. He stepped toward her; his face was dark with rage. “Where is he?” he screamed. She retreated, stunned by the violence in his eyes.

  “Where have you hidden him?” Abinadab yelled, looking under the bed and in the closet.

  Michal’s back was against the bedroom wall.

  Eliab strode up to her, his bearded face almost brushing against hers. He seemed half crazed. He grabbed her arms and squeezed so hard she cried out. Michal lowered her face, anticipating a blow. There was raging fury in his piglike eyes and something more. It made her feel both terrified and violated.

  “He forced me to do it,” she blurted over her tears. “He heard that Father wanted to harm him. It was his plan. He made me lie in order to protect him.” The falsehoods came easily. She needed to shield herself not only from this monster but also from her own father.

  Eliab pulled Michal toward him. His skin reeked of garlic and sweat. He swore, then pushed her away so hard that the back of her head struck the wall. She almost crumpled to the floor.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he snarled as he and Abinadab, their faces contorted with anger and humiliation, ran out of the house.

  “They’re going back to the palace,” Lydea said, her voice quavering. She was again standing at the window by the entryway. She dried her eyes, then walked into the kitchen. “Madam. I will show you where the lanterns are.”

  Lydea lit the two lamps and handed them to Michal. When Michal turned to go to the back porch, Lydea grasped her arm, giving a small cry of dismay. “You are bleeding!”

  Michal’s head hurt terribly, but she refused to be distracted. Every moment put David in greater danger. “It can wait. First I need to warn my husband,” she said, walking quickly to the balustrade. She leaned over the low wall, and with her heart breaking, waved the lamps back and forth.

  “David, my beloved, I love you,” she cried, tears spilling down her face. She held both lamps as far over the balcony as she could, calling out to him, “I will wait for you, my love.”

  But had she known the price her father would exact for her betrayal, and how long it would be before she saw David again, she would have screamed out his name, begging him to return.

  Epilogue

  When David saw the twin flames flickering above him, he was surprised—not so much by Saul’s treachery as by his response. Instead of anger or fear, he felt relief. He would certainly miss his wife, but he had missed the open country, the wild hills, and the quiet nights under the stars. David adjusted the kinnor and tightened Jonathan’s belt. Looking about to spot any approaching torches, he offered a brief prayer for protection and headed toward the training grounds to wait for his nephew.

  He did not have to wait long. Lydea had delivered the message, and within an hour, they were marching cautiously back to their little village. On the way David told Joab about what had occurred to him in the stable. When he repeated the words that the prophet had uttered—“Rae magnu u’bet Elohim Mashiach phni”; May the Lord look with favor on His anointed one—Joab stiffened. He did not say anything for so long that David was afraid his nephew had concluded he had lost his mind.

  Finally Joab turned toward him. The look on his face was one of amazement, not skepticism. “So that is it,” he muttered.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve known for years there was something different about you. But I couldn’t put my finger on it.” Joab rubbed the scar on his lip. “Thank you for trusting me,” he said, then lowered his hand shyly, placing it over his chest. “I will serve you gladly,” he said in a quiet voice.

  The following evening, David was stretched out in a cave nestled in the foothills outside Bethlehem. Besides Joab there were three others. Joab’s older brothers, Abishai and Asahel, who were recognized as two of the strongest young men in Judah. Elhanan, their cousin, had also volunteered to join the band of fugitives. He was a brawler who, though not as strong as his cousins, was notorious for his speed and cunning.

  “I told them about Samuel and the anointing,” Joab had explained before the others showed up. “When I did, they insisted on joining up. They said they would be your fighting men for life.”

  When the three arrived, David had embraced each one, kissing them on both cheeks. “My thanks to each of you,” he said. “I shall never forget this, not as long as I live.”

  They spent the next day working on plans to evade Saul’s trackers. They decided they would leave early the next morning and make their way to Ramah to ask Samuel’s advice.

  All of them were reclining around the fire when David took out his kinnor.

&
nbsp; “What do you think of this one?” David asked them, adjusting his fingers on the strings. The four looked at him with anticipation as he began to sing:

  Rescue me from my enemies, my God,

  protect me from those attacking me.

  Look at them lurking to ambush me,

  they are strong and united against me,

  for no fault, no sin, no offense of mine,

  Yahweh, how they hurry into position!56

  David wiggled his eyebrows mischievously, and Elhanan hooted in pleasure. David narrowed his eyes and twisted his lips into an exaggerated snarl.

  See how they slaver at the mouth,

  with swords between their teeth.

  “There is no one listening,” they say.57

  The four snorted and clapped their hands, urging him on.

  Yahweh, You laugh at them,

  You make fun of these pagans.

  My Strength, I look to You.58

  Abishai shouted out his approval. David repeated the phrase several times so they could get comfortable with the melody line. Then he invited them to join in.

  My citadel is God Himself,

  the God who loves me is coming,

  God will show me my enemies defeated.

  I, for my part, celebrate Your strength,

  I sing of Your love morning by morning.59

  “And evening, too!” chimed in Asahel in his high, clear voice.

  David smiled and nodded, repeating the final stanza several times. Tentatively at first, then more confidently, their voices melted together in fluid harmony. Together they sang out words of hope, words of petition and of worship.

  My Strength, I play for You,

  My citadel is God Himself,

  the God who loves me.

  My Strength, my God who loves me.60

  When they were done, none of them laughed. They were very quiet. The lyrics and the unexpected beauty of their voices resonating inside the chamber had awed them all. Elhanan broke the silence. He turned to David, pushed his curly hair out of his face, and asked, “So, Captain, I’ve been wondering. Are we a band of warriors or just a bunch of poet singers?”