Daughter of the King

by Faucheux, Sharon; Havel, Carlene;

  Miriam averted her eyes. “Your handmaid Tirzah has gone to your home in the city. I am to serve you in her absence. This dress is a gift from our lord the king. He commands you to wear it when you sing for his guests at dinner tomorrow evening.”

  Michal grasped Miriam’s shoulder and spun the servant toward her. “How long will Tirzah be gone? Why did she go?”

  “She left by order of our lord the king,” Miriam’s voice was fearful. “I know nothing more.”

  “And Sarah?” Michal dreaded the answer.

  “She, too, has been sent home.”

  “I understand,” Michal said, although at the moment she understood nothing. She released her grip on the young woman, dropping her hand to her side. “Thank you, Miriam. I will call for you if I need anything.”

  She sat by the window where she and her sister looked down on the palace garden so many times. If David were here, he would hold her hand, look into her eyes, and make her troubles melt away. He always had a solution to any problem.

  How she missed Merab. Her sister would have scoffed at Michal’s spoken thoughts until she formed them into the straightforward logic Merab’s literal mind could accept. If Tirzah could be there she would offer no advice, but at least she would have listened and loyally guarded her secrets.

  Isolated, with no one to confide in, Michal kept her thoughts to herself. How she longed to talk to someone she could trust not to report every word of conversation to her father. Would it be possible to steal a few minutes with Jonathan? Was he in the palace or on duty? She’d never before felt so alone.

  Michal stared out the window, seeing nothing, until the shadows began to creep across the garden, obscuring the lively colors of the flowering hedges but heightening the heavy sweetness of their fragrance. Not daring to risk endangering her brother by contacting him directly, she decided to attempt a talk with her mother.

  “Queen Ahinoam is not well enough to receive a guest,” the handmaid Lobeth said without raising her eyes from the embroidery in her lap.

  “Not even her daughter?” Michal made no move to leave. She knew better than to suggest this was an emergency. Such a plea would immediately have intensified her mother’s real or imagined ailment.

  Lobeth looked up at last. “I’ll check. Wait here, please.”

  After a few minutes, Lobeth returned. “Not too long. She is not a well woman.”

  Michal was always struck by the contrast between the outer chamber and Ahinoam’s bedroom. The first room was sparsely decorated with a few dust-colored cushions that matched the brown walls, and a single large vase that usually sat empty. Inside her mother’s private room, rich red and gold fabrics covered three walls. The remaining wall, lined with windows, was stained deep purple. Mounds of red, gold, and purple cushions covered the floor, except for a small square in the center of the room. There a low gold leaf table held a water jar, an oil lamp, and an ornate incense burner. Copper trays were kept filled with fresh fruit or some seasonal delicacy. Tonight the trays held plump shiny dates, pitted and stuffed with almond paste. The garden’s main fountain sent the soothing sounds of gurgling water through the open window, while slatted wooden shutters maintained the illusion of privacy.

  “Good evening, Mother.” Michal kissed Ahinoam. “I hope you are well.”

  The queen’s tone was wary. “I am never particularly well, my daughter. The least noise disturbs my sleep. I am awake at least half of most nights. And you?”

  Michal looked into her mother’s mercurial eyes that shifted colors, sometimes green, sometimes almost yellow, but always shot through with amber fire. Some said these were the most beautiful eyes in the land. For Michal, seeing Ahinoam’s face was like gazing into the polished metal of a mirror. “I am sick of heart, my mother. I fear for David’s life.”

  “There is nothing to be gained by worrying about what you cannot control.” Ahinoam eased from her sitting position to recline on a nearby cushion.

  “What will happen to me if—” Michal swallowed hard, “—if Father is successful in making me a widow?”

  Ahinoam sighed. “Surely you have learned by now that I know nothing of your father’s plans in any matter, not even when our children are involved.”

  “The king may not speak directly of his intentions, but you have your ways of learning things.”

  The suggestion of a smile crossed Ahinoam’s still-beautiful face then quickly disappeared. She gestured toward the tray of fruit. “Would you like a date? These are particularly succulent.”

  “No, thank you.” The thought of food did not appeal to Michal.

  “Ah.” The arching of Ahinoam’s eyebrows dismissed Michal’s refusal. “What life does a woman have if she is not married?”

  “I am married, mother. To David.”

  “Of course you are, my dear. I merely remind you when a king’s young daughter becomes a widow, he naturally seeks another husband for her.”

  “I do not want another husband. Alive or dead I can never belong to anyone but David.”

  “You must think this way because of your affection for David.” Ahinoam seemed genuinely mystified by such a notion.

  “Weren’t you ever in love with father?”

  “Certainly. It is a woman’s duty to love her husband.”

  “I’m not talking about duty,” Michal responded. “I’m talking about a man who makes your heart leap with joy when he looks at you, or smiles at you, or touches your hand. Someone for whose happiness you would give your very life. That kind of love, Mother.”

  “Do take some dates.”

  Michal exhaled and reached across her mother’s body to the copper tray. Ahinoam caught her arm, pulled her near, and spoke softly into her ear. “The king speaks constantly of the advantage he will gain by giving you in marriage. Getting rid of David is important, because the king needs to trade your hand to gain a military alliance. When he strikes a deal with someone, you will be that man’s wife, either willingly or in chains. Do you think Merab wanted to marry Adriel? You have lived for a year with a husband you adore. Few women ever have that much. Be content with your memories.” Ahinoam relaxed her hold on Michal’s arm. Her tone became conversational again. “I wonder where they are from.”

  “What?” Michal was still trying to take in what her mother said about the king’s plans.

  “These dates. I wonder if they’re from Ethiopia.”

  “No doubt. I must go now. Thank you, dear mother. I hope you feel better tomorrow.”

  Ahinoam stretched out on her cushion. “Yes. God willing, perhaps I will walk in the meadow with you.”

  CHAPTER

  TWELVE

  “I WILL LIFT UP MINE EYES UNTO THE HILLS, FROM WHENCE COMETH MY HELP. MY HELP COMETH FROM THE LORD, WHICH MADE HEAVEN AND EARTH. HE WILL NOT SUFFER THY FOOT TO BE MOVED: HE THAT KEEPETH THEE WILL NOT SLUMBER.” PSALM 121, 1-3

  Michal wished Merab would come to the palace for a visit so she and her sister could sit and talk like old times. Ahinoam dashed that hope when she reported that Merab was having difficulty in the final stages of her pregnancy, and was not able to travel. So Michal knitted, did needlework, walked up and down the meadow alone, and thought. She spent so much time alone she was almost grateful when the king would summon her to sing. Yet strangers among the guests—men who appraised her with cold eyes—would make her welcome a return to solitude.

  Merab and Michal occasionally sang duets when they were children. The elder girl’s clear, sweet soprano was a lovely counterpoint to Michal’s throaty contralto. Though Michal did not have David’s exceptional musical gifts, her husband taught her to accompany herself passably on the harp. Her song selections these days were sad, haunting melodies that reflected the state of her emotions.

  One still evening, Michal sat in her dark bedroom looking out the window toward the Holy Mountain, its top obscured by a thick cloud. She wondered if the cloud was a signal the Living God was at home on His mountain, as some people believed. David assured Michal that
God chose their nation to belong exclusively to Him. Great men such as Moses and the modern day prophet Samuel spoke with the God of Israel concerning nationwide policy or future turning points of history. That kind of significant communication seemed completely unconnected to her, a broken-hearted girl with no one to turn to for help.

  “Great Living God,” Michal whispered, “If You are on Your mountain tonight, please hear me. Show me how to protect my dear husband David.”

  As she slept that night, Michal had a dream unlike any other. She and a man were walking together in the palace garden. In her dream she was certain she knew the man well and was completely comfortable with him, although she never saw his face. After she awakened, she could not think who he was. Despite her clear recollection that the two of them carried on a conversation, she was sure she did not hear the sound of the man’s voice.

  “Did you mean what you said when you told your mother you would give your life for David?” she understood the man to question.

  “Yes,” Michal thought.

  “Then do it.”

  She pondered. “I would gladly die for him. But I don’t understand how to do that in a way that helps him.”

  “Not death,” was the answer. “Sacrifice is the way.”

  “Should I take an animal to the temple to be sacrificed?” Michal wondered.

  Suddenly she and the man were in the courtyard of Michal and David’s house. The wooden idol came flying over the bedroom balcony, while Michal and the man stood laughing. Someone very much like Ahinoam was with them, and she laughed also.

  “Yes,” Michal heard Ahinoam think aloud, “my daughter has become skilled in the use of women’s weapons.”

  “This is the way,” the man conveyed to Michal. “A different kind of sacrifice. Arm yourself from the arsenal of your mind.”

  Michal opened her eyes and stared into the darkness of her room. Her dreams normally receded quickly, if she could remember them at all. Always before, in a wakened state, she easily recognized the unreality of what she experienced. Yet this memory remained intact and fresh in her mind, with no dreamlike quality. Against all logic, she was sure the events she recalled truly happened. She sat up and thought through every detail. She could not rid herself of the feeling there was meaning in the dream, something she was expected to decipher. But what? After a long period of restlessness, she went back to sleep.

  Michal’s first thought upon awakening the next morning was the dream. She relived it again as she dressed, and once more as she walked through the meadow. She tried to put the dream out of her mind and think about David. She hoped he was safe in some remote sanctuary.

  A single arrow flew through the air and fell a short distance from Michal. She looked in the direction of the arrow, and judged the point of origin to be the forbidden stone. Jonathan! She smiled and set out across the stream.

  “I am thinking of a plan,” Michal heard herself telling Jonathan, as they sat on the great, flat stone.

  He looked skeptical. “I’m ready to listen to anything. The situation is desperate and getting worse every day. Doeg is an animal.”

  “Father is obsessed with the idea he needs a northern ally. He believes the best way to seal the alliance is to marry me to a war lord.”

  “How did you come by that piece of information?” Jonathan’s voice conveyed a mixture of surprise and respect.

  Michal ignored her brother’s question. “What if someone, meaning you of course, could convince Father to go ahead and make an agreement to marry me off without waiting for David to be caught?” Michal could almost see Jonathan’s mind working. “That destroys Doeg’s need to kill David to win me. It satisfies father’s obsession to make an alliance, and”—she took a deep breath—“punishes me by separating me forever from the husband I love.”

  “You have some good points. But you know David as well as I do,” Jonathan said. “He would never let such a betrayal pass unanswered. He would find you. If he couldn’t raise an army, he would go by himself. He would reclaim you or die in the attempt.”

  Michal agreed. “What you say is true. However, Father would not want to flaunt his treachery toward David before the people. Convince the king to wed me in secret. Then your job would be to make sure Doeg knows I will never be his.” She closed her eyes. “And to convince David that I am dead.”

  “You do not know what you are saying, little sister,” Jonathan protested. “You would be unhappy all of your days.”

  “Let us not think of me at this moment,” Michal insisted. “Let us concentrate on whether or not this plan would save David’s life. And if so, will you help me carry it out?”

  Jonathan held the sides of his face with the palms of his hands as he stared down at the forbidden stone. When he said nothing for several minutes, Michal knew her brother found no flaw in her scheme.

  “Is there no other way?” Jonathan asked at last. “Shall I lie to my best friend? Must both of your hearts be broken to spare him?”

  “He knows I would never give this up.” Michal removed the ring David put on her hand on their wedding day. One last time, she ran the tip of her finger around the gold grapevine motif that encircled the wide silver band. Then she thrust the ring toward her brother.

  “Are you sure, Michal?” Jonathan’s eyes pierced hers. “Once these events are set in motion, there will be no turning back. Think for a while before we do anything.”

  “There is no time to think,” Michal said. “Please, Jonathan, I beg you to help me fight for David the only way I know.”

  Her brother took the ring and dropped it into a small leather pouch. Then he stood up slowly. “Our father spoke the truth when he said his daughters were better men than his sons. If you were my brother, I would kneel at your feet and call you king.”

  Michal forced a smile. “Perhaps someday when you rule this nation, you will remember your little sister and call her out of exile.”

  “The crown will sit on the head of one more worthy than I.” Jonathan stepped down from the rock. “The army will be going to the desert on a mission tomorrow. Perhaps I can put this plan in motion as soon as that. God be with you, Princess Michal, most noble daughter of the king.” He kissed her hand, and then he disappeared into the thick trees. Michal wondered what he meant when he said someone more worthy than he would rule. Surely Jonathan did not think himself inferior to one of their brothers.

  The enormity of the commitment she’d made settled over Michal like a mantle. Jonathan was right. Once her ideas were transplanted into the mind of the king, they would assume a life of their own. Events would sweep her along toward an unknown fate. She would have no control, and no refuge.

  She looked toward the Holy Mountain. One of David’s favorite songs played through her mind. I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth. She could not bring the rest of the words to mind, but what she could remember gave her some measure of comfort.

  As she lay in her bed that evening, Michal wondered how she could endure marriage to another man. Day-to-day life would be empty without her husband. Yet the torture would come at night. She came to David as an ignorant, inexperienced virgin, full of curiosity about the secret thing that passed between a husband and wife. A second marriage would hold no mystery, and certainly no joy. She shuddered to think that before long she would lie in bed with someone other than the man she loved. The thought was deeply repulsive. Yet she could think of no other option if she wanted David to survive.

  She allowed herself to sink into the memory of her wedding night. That time of new marriage was a precious recollection, one that never faded. Michal saw David many times when he was in the company of her male relatives. She heard him sing. She looked at him, and she heard him speak. Yet she was never alone with David—nor with any man to whom she was not closely related—until the day of her marriage. Perhaps Ahinoam spoke wisely when she advised her daughter to be sustained by her remembrances.
/>
  On the evening of the day they were married, David smiled at her in the quietness of his house. He held her close to him. “My own beautiful wife,” he whispered. “I thought this dream would never come true.”

  “I, too, have hoped and dreamed I would someday be yours,” she said boldly.

  “Have you, my precious one?” He searched her face with his luminous brown eyes. “You aren’t disappointed at being given to an upstart sheep herder?”

  “Today, I count myself the most fortunate woman in all of Israel,” she said.

  She heard the sound of his breathing, and felt the beating of his heart. He guided her face upward with his hands. The first soft kiss warmed her like strong wine. As he kissed her again, Michal felt as if her legs would collapse beneath her. Maybe they had, for he swept her into his arms.

  David carried her up the stone steps and into their bedroom. He laid her on the bed gently. In one deft motion he was beside her, propped up on one elbow, caressing her with his free hand. Michal remembered her sister Merab’s prediction made that very afternoon. “Don’t be surprised if he makes you feel like a city to be ransacked. For a soldier, taking a wife is merely another conquest.”

  “You don’t have to be afraid of me, Michal,” David whispered.

  “I’m not afraid,” she said, looking away from him.

  “No?” He turned her face back to his. “Then why are you trembling like a newborn lamb?”

  “Because you’re going to stab me,” she whimpered. The tension and fatigue of the preparations for her wedding left her nerves raw. Until the wedding ceremony concluded, Michal was terrified her father would have one of his sudden changes of mind and give her to someone other than David. Furthermore, the old women in the palace frightened her half to death with their stories of painful wedding nights and bloody bedding.

  “Stab you? My darling Michal, I want to take care of you, protect you.” He looked puzzled. “Whatever gave you the idea I would take a knife to you?”

  “When Merab was to be married, our mother told her that a man uses a sword to turn a girl into a woman. Or something like that. The old women told me I will be a bloody mess by morning.” She swallowed hard, regretting the mention of her sister’s name. “Because that’s how people get babies.”