Daughter of the King

by Faucheux, Sharon; Havel, Carlene;

  Michal felt shaken. “Poor Merab. I mourned for her before, but now even more. I hope her sons brought her happiness.” She closed her eyes for a moment, and took a few deep breaths. “How many children did she have, and where are they now? It sounds as if they are in grave danger.”

  “Adriel has their five sons hidden in a safe place.” Abner arched his eyebrows “At any rate, they are safer than they were in Meholath. Even Ishbosheth isn’t stupid enough to venture too far into the mountains.”

  “What will my brother do to you when he finds out you’ve brought me to Judea and made a truce with King David?”

  Abner sat up straight and snorted like the old war horse he was. “I have done more than agree to a cease-fire, my niece. I have pledged my personal allegiance to David, and I have offered him your father’s crown. Ishbosheth will certainly shout treason and command my execution. If things go as I’ve planned, he will no longer have the power to enforce his orders. If not…” The old man finished his thought with a shrug.

  “David? King of Israel? Could it be?” Michal whispered.

  “It must be,” Abner rasped fiercely. “I have the support of every elder in the nation.” He gestured toward David’s back. “Surely you know he was secretly anointed years ago by the Prophet Samuel to be your father’s successor?”

  “I have heard talk of prophesies but nothing specific. Certainly nothing about a special blessing from that great man of God, Samuel.”

  “The lore has been around for years, since before David conquered that Philistine giant, Goliath. His brother Eliab gave me more details yesterday. It’s an amazing story, probably worth the trip to Judea just to learn that slice of history.” Abner looked back at Michal. “I know now that’s why your father feared him so. He couldn’t help but hear rumors of Lord David’s destiny.”

  “I can scarcely take all this in,” Michal confessed.

  Abner nodded his head in affirmation. “This turn of events clearly demonstrates the power of the God of Israel.”

  “Truly?” Michal was fascinated.

  “Through Samuel, God announced that a poverty-stricken shepherd boy from an obscure little village would ascend to rule a great nation. That is impossible. The whole idea is absurd, unthinkable. And yet, it’s all happening precisely as Samuel foretold.”

  “So you believe it has always been God’s plan for David to reign?”

  “And if so, why wait until now to cast my lot with him?” Abner correctly anticipated her question. He smiled. “I admit my judgment may be influenced by a bitter argument I had with Ishbosheth recently. Above all else, my love for our country drives me. The conviction that we cannot let Ishbosheth destroy Israel with his incompetence troubles my thoughts the same way the gut sickness gnaws at my vitals day and night.”

  “I am sorry for your illness, Uncle. It saddens me to see you in pain.”

  The old man stared at her for a moment. “Thank you, Michal. I believe you actually mean that. You and Rizpah will be the only sincere mourners at my funeral.”

  “I’m sure there will be many others,” Michal said, although she could not think who any of those others might be. “I did not know until we reached Bahurim that Rizpah…” Michal searched for her next words. “Was living there.”

  Abner narrowed his eyes. “Are you, like your mother, too refined to say the word concubine?”

  She was flustered. “I could not know, not for certain, that is.”

  “Ishbosheth refused to allow me to make Rizpah my wife,” Abner said. “I should have defied him and gone ahead, instead of shaming her as I have. She is a good woman with a kind heart.”

  “What is it to Ishbosheth if you take another wife? What difference could it make that she happens to be my mother’s former handmaid?”

  “Rizpah herself doesn’t concern him, but the king doesn’t want her sons under my protection.”

  “What would my brother care for the sons of Rizpah?” Michal sensed the answer almost before she heard Abner’s words.

  “Our gracious king,” Abner spat scornfully, “must keep a careful eye on his two half-brothers, even if they are illegitimate. Surely you always knew Rizpah was your father’s concubine.”

  “No, Uncle. No, I had no idea.”

  “You know now,” he said before giving in to another coughing spasm. For a few moments he could not speak. “There were other women, of course, and several children. They are all gone now, except for Rizpah’s two boys. Some died in battle, the rest under mysterious circumstances. There are rumors that Jonathan’s boy, Mephibosheth, is alive and in hiding somewhere. I have searched but found no trace of him.”

  “Then dear Jonathan had the son he always hoped for. So little remains of our family,” Michal said sadly. “Only you are left of our elders. Ishbosheth and myself from our generation. Other than Merab’s and Rizpah’s sons, do I have any other nieces or nephews?” She mourned to think Abner would not be among the living for long.

  Abner pursed his lips. “There could possibly be another youngster or two your brother hasn’t wiped out, but I doubt it. When Ishbosheth sees a handsome young relative, he senses a rival for his power. The ironic thing is that Ishbosheth will be the last king in his line. So, in terms of royal succession, it doesn’t matter which of his relatives lives or dies.”

  “It matters to me. If there is anyone in our family left, I want to know them. Doesn’t it sadden you to think of having no kinsmen?”

  “I’m too near death to worry about kinsmen,” Abner declared. “I have only a little strength left. I must conserve it to do what I can for our country. That is my contribution to the well-being of the children in coming generations.”

  David’s hand suddenly rested on her shoulder as Abigail suggested everyone go inside for dinner.

  CHAPTER

  EIGHTEEN

  “SO JOAB AND ABISHAI HIS BROTHER SLEW ABNER, BECAUSE HE HAD SLAIN THEIR BROTHER ASAHEL…AND THE KING SAID UNTO HIS SERVANTS, KNOW YE NOT THAT THERE IS A PRINCE AND A GREAT MAN FALLEN THIS DAY IN ISRAEL?” II SAMUEL 3:30, 38

  Michal knew something was wrong the instant she saw David’s face the next afternoon. His grim expression, ripped clothing, and ashes sprinkled in his hair told her the king was in mourning. She could not move as she saw her husband walk slowly toward her, followed by a weeping Abigail and a solemn Ahinoam.

  Michal wanted to shout ‘Who died?’ but her voice failed her. What could bring her husband to her in such a state of obvious grief? Was it a royal son? Or one of the king’s remaining brothers?

  David folded her into his arms and held her tightly. When he spoke, his voice was sorrowful. “Abner sleeps with his fathers.”

  “That’s not possible.” Michal pulled back from David’s embrace and protested, “I talked to him this morning, just before he left to go back to Bahurim.”

  “I know. It happened quickly.”

  Part of Michal realized her uncle was dead. Still, she fought against acceptance. “He has been so sick, but I thought he was improving.”

  “It was not the sickness,” David said as he looked away for a moment, and then turned back to her. “Lord Abner was murdered.”

  Michal’s eyes rounded in disbelief. “Murdered? How?”

  David drew her into his arms again. “It’s a blood feud. Some years ago, Lord Abner killed a man named Asahel. This morning, Asahel’s brothers took their vengeance by ending your uncle’s life.”

  Michal’s legs gave way. Had it not been for David’s support, she would have collapsed on the floor. A part of her recognized the sobbing she heard as coming from her own throat. David slipped one arm under her knees, the other around her back, and carried her to her bedchamber. He gently put her down while Abigail and Ahinoam arranged cushions beneath her for support. David sank beside her. Michal buried her head in his chest and cried as if her heart would break.

  “Just let all the tears come out,” he murmured, stroking her hair.

  For what seemed like a long time, the fou
r of them did not speak. Ahinoam’s eyes drooped shut, while Abigail sat doing needlework. Michal’s weeping and the breeze rustling the trees outside the windows were the only sounds to be heard. Finally, the tears subsided and David relaxed his embrace. Without understanding why it mattered, Michal sat up and tried to stop crying. Abigail put away her sewing to remove Michal’s sandals, and Ahinoam awoke and offered her fresh water.

  “I hope you know I had nothing to do with this. I admired Abner. He lived a long and honorable life before God,” David said.

  Michal nodded her agreement, not yet feeling capable of speech.

  David took her hand. “I will be gone for a while, making arrangements for your uncle’s funeral. Will you be all right?”

  ”Yes,” she whispered.

  “Abigail and Bird will be here if you need anything.” Michal realized her husband’s eyes were awash with unshed tears. David stood and turned toward Abigail. “I know she’s in good hands. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “Tirzah!” Michal exclaimed. She suddenly remembered her dear friend was at Bahurim. Without Abner’s protection, the village could soon fall victim to Ishbosheth’s revenge.

  “Lord Abner’s men will be in Bahurim before King Ishbosheth knows what has happened,” David assured her. “Those who are willing will take refuge in Judea, and Tirzah is sure to come with them. I have no doubt Captain Osh will deliver Abner’s people here safely.”

  There was an awkward silence after King David’s departure. After straightening the cushions several times, Abigail said, “We can go, if you would prefer to be alone.”

  “No, please.” Michal’s voice sounded strange to her own ears. “I don’t want to be by myself.”

  “Would you like something to eat?” Ahinoam’s tone begged for an assenting answer.

  Michal shook her head. “Thank you, no.”

  “You must have loved your uncle very much,” Abigail commented as she took up her sewing again.

  “He was around often when I was a child, but I hardly knew him.” Michal’s words came slowly. In spite of her resolve, she began to cry again. “It’s not Uncle Abner so much.” A sob broke forth. “But he was the last remaining member of my family that I know. Knew. Except my brother Ishbosheth, who hates me. There are children I will probably never see. I’ve lost everyone. My sister, my brothers, my parents. Everyone.”

  Abigail hugged Michal. “I’m so sorry. Losing those you love can only be understood by someone who has suffered that same pain.”

  Was it Abigail’s kindness that caused the tears to flow freely again? After a few struggling moments, Michal took a deep breath, and used both hands to smooth back her hair. “Their passing happened over a span of years, but I’ve just learned of their deaths. It’s overwhelming.” She felt the crush of loneliness mingle with her sadness, but a natural reticence kept Michal from exploring those feelings with women she met for the first time two days earlier.

  “You did not know what was happening with your family?” Ahinoam asked. When Abigail shot her a warning glance, Ahinoam quickly added, “You must have lived very far from them.”

  “More than distance separated our family,” Michal said. “It’s difficult to explain.” She was not comfortable disclosing her innermost feelings. Yet she longed for companionship and a sharing that transcended superficial conversation. “Like every blessing, royalty can also be a curse. I believe my father loved his children as well as he could. Eventually his duty as the king took precedence over our family. As I was taken away to Gallim, his last words to me were that he no longer considered me his daughter.” Michal’s shoulders shook with sobs as she buried her face in her hands.

  “What kind of father would do such a thing?” Ahinoam demanded in an angry voice.

  Abigail cut in smoothly, “Perhaps it would lighten the sadness of this morning to think on better times. Tell us, what is your happiest memory?”

  Michal dried her tears on a soft handkerchief. She found Abigail’s approach lacking in subtlety, but she appreciated the effort to lessen the atmosphere of grief. “The best time of my life began the day I was married to David. He was my heart’s desire since I was a little girl. I could hardly believe my good fortune when I became his wife.” Michal smiled despite her sorrowful mood. “I was young and quite naïve. He amazed me with his kindness and patience. I’ve never known another man like him. The time that followed our wedding was golden. I relived our few short months together over and over during the next seven years. Those memories and our strong God sustained me during many long, bitter days in Gallim. I never expected to leave that house.” She looked around her. “Sometimes I fear I will awaken and find I have not.”

  “Did you know our husband when he fought and killed the giant Goliath?” Ahinoam leaned forward eagerly.

  “No, that was before my father took David into his service.” Michal felt a calmness returning. “But enough about me. Tell me about yourselves.” She nodded to Abigail. “We should get to know each other.”

  “My family is from the Jezreel Valley,” Ahinoam said in her country girl accent. “I am the youngest of six boys and three girls. My father’s ancestors thought the valley was good farm land. Everybody around us seemed to think it was a fine place to wage war. My mother told me every time they had a crop about ready to harvest, soldiers would trample it. If men weren’t fighting on our land, they were riding through the fields with chariots and carts, going to battle somewhere else in the valley.”

  A servant slipped into the bedchamber bearing a large, round tray laden with fruit, bread, and cheese. She set the food on a low table near the room’s entrance and silently withdrew. Ahinoam immediately moved across the room to inspect the tray while continuing to speak. “As my brothers grew older, mother made them dig a pit in the back yard. When an army was close by, the boys knew to hide in the pit. My parents pulled a covering of planks over it and piled hay on top of the boards.” Ahinoam burst forth with a high-pitched laugh that was both hearty and piercing. “Once a bunch of war horses got into the hay and ate almost the whole stack. My mother handed out wine and cheese to distract the soldiers while father scooted the planks closer together over the pit where the boys were.”

  Michal’s thoughts strayed as she studied the two women. What would it feel like to become family with them and the rest of David’s wives? Until now, Abigail ran the household. How would she accept relinquishing her position of authority?

  She cannot dread that transition any worse than I, Michal reflected. Ahinoam, the one she heard David call Bird, held a certain status because she was the mother of David’s eldest son. It was clear that she was Abigail’s confidante and good friend as well. Was the bond between the two women one of affection or convenience?

  Abigail was pretty enough, with her regular features and sweet smile. Her straight brown hair was tied back in a plain, practical style. She moved with a natural grace and dignity, yet was the kind of woman someone could meet one day and not remember the next. The younger Ahinoam had thick, glossy hair and dark eyes. Despite her stout build, Ahinoam’s mobile face had a singular loveliness that commanded attention.

  Interesting that she has my mother’s name, Michal thought. She actually looks a little like her.

  “So after they burned the house for the third time, my father decided his sons would be soldiers instead of farmers,” Michal heard Ahinoam saying. “When I was almost fifteen, I was engaged to Nepheg. He was a soldier and a good friend of my youngest brother. Nepheg was killed in battle six months before we were to be married. My brothers went to their commander, who happened to be David, to complain that none of Nepheg’s male relatives would take another wife. David said Abigail was pestering him to bring home another wife to help with the chores, so that was that.”

  “I didn’t pester.” Abigail sounded slightly defensive.

  Ahinoam grinned. “I’m just repeating what my bothers told me.”

  “Life at Ziklag was hard.” Abigail directed her e
xplanation Michal’s way. “We were not well-established the way we are here. I must admit I did need help. I was happy when David married Bird.”

  “Bird?” Michal worked up the courage to ask.

  Both Ahinoam and Abigail laughed aloud. “I got that nickname when I was pregnant with my son Amnon,” Ahinoam said. “When Abigail was expecting she never had morning sickness. Me, I was queasy the whole time. The only food I would stand was roasted pigeon breast. Everybody said I was going to turn into a bird because I ate so many of them. David started calling me Bird, and pretty soon everybody else did too. You may as well use that name for me, Michal. Nobody calls me Ahinoam any more.”

  “But it is such a beautiful name,” Michal said as tears sprang to her eyes again. “My mother was called Ahinoam.”

  CHAPTER

  NINETEEN

  “AND WHEN THE SERVANTS OF DAVID WERE COME TO ABIGAIL TO CARMEL, THEY SPAKE UNTO HER, SAYING, DAVID SENT US UNTO THEE, TO TAKE THEE TO HIM TO WIFE. AND SHE AROSE, AND BOWED HERSELF ON HER FACE TO THE EARTH, AND SAID, BEHOLD LET THINE HANDMAID BE A SERVANT TO WASH THE FEET OF THE SERVANTS OF MY LORD. AND ABIGAIL HASTED, AND AROSE, AND RODE UPON AN ASS, WITH FIVE DAMSELS OF HERS THAT WENT AFTER HER; AND SHE WENT AFTER THE MESSENGERS OF DAVID, AND BECAME HIS WIFE.” I SAMUEL 25:40-42

  “I’m from Carmel,” Abigail said. “High country, near the seashore. My father owned large land holdings and vast herds of sheep. I was the eldest daughter and had five older brothers and two younger sisters. We were all healthy, well-fed, and happy.”