During Absalom’s absence, Haggith assured the women her son Adonijah was the heir apparent. The relationship between Haggith and Maachah cooled noticeably, and their followers split into two camps. The women who were previously friendly with Bird distanced themselves from her and aligned themselves with Maachah, Haggith, or Kerah. Bird seemed to become invisible to the other wives, only occasionally associating with Michal and Bathsheba. Most of the time she kept to herself.
During this time, Maachah’s father died, and she received permission to travel to Geshur. She did not expect to arrive in time for the old king’s funeral, but she would participate in the celebration of her brother’s coronation. She radiated excitement, submitting endless requests for extra clothing, jewelry, and attendants.
“You’d think she was the one being crowned,” Michal grumbled to Bathsheba.
After Maachah’s departure, the atmosphere in the women’s quarters was noticeably less acrimonious. Haggith made a futile attempt to hold court, but she was as uninspiring as her son Adonijah. Neither seemed able to assemble a following.
Three days after Maachah left for Geshur, Mephibosheth offered to take Michal and Bathsheba to the city market. Solomon would have to go along, since Bathsheba would never leave the palace without her son in tow. They were wedging themselves into the cart when a bee stung Michal on the arm. She felt faint, then nauseated. With considerable disappointment, she decided to stay behind.
“We should be back early this afternoon,” Mephibosheth reassured Michal as he guided his donkey out of the courtyard.
Michal went to her bedchamber and dabbed cool water on the reddening sting. She thought about asking a healing servant for a poultice, but decided to rest a bit first. The bed felt especially comfortable, and she drifted into a long restful sleep.
Upon awakening, she spent some time carding wool. Later, she took her handwork to the courtyard to enjoy the sunlight. The trees and flowers were unusually beautiful on this warm, peaceful day. Michal dozed, and her knitting did not progress.
As the late afternoon sun sifted through the leaves of the trees into the quiet courtyard, Mephibosheth unexpectedly appeared alone in his fast-moving cart. “Come!” was all he said. Michal was surprised. Her nephew was seldom in a hurry, nor did he ever speak to her in such a curt manner.
She climbed into the cart immediately. “What’s wrong? Where are we going?”
He held up a hand in a signal to wait. Michal felt a surge of unexplained dread. Not far outside the gate, Mephibosheth turned his donkey from the road. He stopped behind a screen of trees. Michal dug her hand into her nephew’s arm. “Did something happen to Solomon? What is it?”
Mephibosheth mopped his brow. “Rebellion. Absalom has raised an army and he is advancing on Jerusalem. The palace may be under siege before morning.”
“How dare he? That son of Maachah. But Solomon?” She was afraid of the answer.
“Micha is taking the boy and his mother to…the agreed-upon place. You remember. They will not use the main roads.” He looked at the sun. “God willing they are already well on their way.”
“How did you find out about the rebellion?”
“It was the talk of the market. We left and went immediately to my farm, where I always keep a cart and traveling provisions ready for an emergency. Let us pray no one saw Micha harness the donkeys. I warned Bathsheba to make sure her hair was completely covered and to keep her eyes downcast. That’s why I’ve been gone so long. I thought you would be worried. Now you must go home with me and hide.”
“No, thank you, Nephew. God bless you for looking after the boy. And her. David is in the palace. I’m going to him.”
“That’s the most dangerous thing you could do, Aunt Michal.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m an old woman. I’d rather die with my husband than live without him.”
“You said you hated him,” Mephibosheth said.
“Who I decide to hate or not hate is none of your business. Hurry and go home. The city will be a dangerous place for you. I will walk back to the palace. I know this pathway well.”
“You should let me drive you. You can use the extra time to gather a few necessities.”
“No need. I can walk the legs off every young woman in the palace,” Michal answered. She held up her emergency bag. “And I have what I need with me. Food, silver, my knife, everything.”
“Is there nothing I can do for you?”
“No, dear Nephew, nothing more than you have already done.” She patted his hand. May God be with you in this troubled time.”
“And also with you, my beloved aunt.”
After Mephibosheth and Michal embraced each other, Michal climbed to the ground. She walked through the woods, and crossed the meadow to the rear gate of the palace. On the way, she tried to count how many times she had left her home without knowing if she would ever see it again.
A concubine stood at the gate. “Good evening,” Michal said. She wished she could remember the young woman’s name.
“No, my lady, it is a sad evening. Everyone is gone, except ten of us concubines. We remained behind to keep the palace open.”
“Where did everyone else go?”
The concubine shrugged. “Most of the servants went home. A few soldiers deserted. The rest of the household went that way.” She pointed toward the stream where Michal used her dye pots.
“If I were you, I would go home to my family,” Michal said.
The girl looked down. “I cannot do that.”
“Have courage then.” Michal smoothed the lovely young woman’s headdress. “And God be with you.”
“Thank you, my lady.”
Michal walked quickly across the stream to the largest of the well-known caves. She was not surprised to find it filled with soldiers and servants of the royal household. “I am looking for King David,” Michal said to the nearest foot soldier. When he gave her a questioning look, she added, “He is my husband.”
“I’ll take you to him.”
David looked up when Michal entered the small cave where he sat alone. “Michal,” he said with obvious relief. “Eliab said he couldn’t find you.”
She sat down beside him. “You look tired, husband.”
“Absalom. My own son.” He rested his head on his knees.
“You will defeat him.”
“Not if I do not fight. How can I try to destroy the son of my body?”
“Have you eaten anything?” she asked.
“There was no time for that. And I am not hungry.”
Michal took out some meal cakes and handed him one. “You used to like these. I have some grapes, too. They may be bruised, but they’re still good.”
“So that’s what you have in that bag you always carry.” David took a bite of the cake. “I can’t find Bathsheba or Solomon.”
“They are safe. Micha is taking them to Joash and Tirzah at Shiloh.”
David closed his eyes. “Thank God. Why didn’t you go with them?”
She handed him another cake. “My place is with you.”
“That’s the worst place you could choose,” David said. He leaned his head against the cave’s wall then accepted the grape Michal pressed to his lips.
“No, the worst choice is being separated from you. I did that once, and I’ve never stopped regretting it. This time I have my shoes on, and extra sandals in my bag.”
“That was a long time ago. Two kingdoms and half a lifetime.” He took the stem of grapes from her hand and stared as if grapes were something he’d never seen before. “We all make mistakes, Michal. But I have made so many. So many.”
“If God can forgive anything, why should we not do the same? As you say, we have all sinned. Your wrongdoings are always on public display because you are the king.”
“The king,” he repeated. “I have let being the king overshadow being a father. A husband. God’s forgiveness, and my family’s, may ease the pain. The human penalties must still be paid. I fear the sword will never le
ave my house.”
“Perhaps that’s the price of wearing the royal bracelet. All of my brothers and my sister died violent deaths. Who knows? I may yet carry on the family tradition.”
“Brave Princess Michal.” David put his hand over hers. “You deserved a better husband than me.”
“I never wanted anyone but you, David. Ever. That has not changed.”
“You were right about Abigail. I broke her heart. I’ve ruined everything. I can’t even afford to feed my army.”
“Everything will look brighter in the morning, after you’ve had some sleep,” Michal said. “God will provide. The people will support you. And there is a full treasure chest in a little cave not far from where we now sit.”
“What do you mean? There’s no treasure here.”
“I started hiding jewels and shekels of silver in my little private cave when I thought you were going to divorce me. I’ve kept up the habit over the years. Just in case I ever needed something.”
David pulled Michal closer to him. “You’re cold,” he said, wrapping his military cloak around both of them. “How could you ever believe I would divorce you, Michal? You have always been precious to me. You saved my life.”
And so the two of them slept in the same place for the first time in years. No longer passionate lovers in a luxurious palace, they were two old friends giving each other what comfort they could in the darkness of the cave.
The soldiers were up and moving before dawn. The bee sting on Michal’s arm was red and swollen, but did not pain her nearly as much as the day before.
“It’s a long walk to Bahurim,” David warned her.
“Yes,” she agreed with a smile. “I hope you can keep up.”
David led the men forward. Michal hung back and joined the soldiers’ women. A young mother hummed a psalm as she walked along and nursed her baby.
“It has been many years since I’ve heard that song,” Michal said. She began to hum along with the young mother.
“That’s the psalm we sang while Ziklag burned,” an older woman said.
A soprano with a voice as strong as Merab’s supplied the words. Soon, all of the women were singing. The men’s heads stopped drooping. They walked faster, and most joined in the song.
“The Lord is my light and my salvation;
whom shall I fear?
The Lord is the strength of my life;
of whom shall I be afraid?”
“Good morning, Princess Michal,” someone called out.
“Good morning,” she replied.
“Your husband is the greatest king ever seen,” another voice called out.
“Well said,” Michal agreed. “But another, greater One will come from the House of David. And of His Kingdom there shall be no end.”
~ ~
We hope you’ve enjoyed Daughter of the King by Carlene Havel and Sharon Faucheux. Please read on to meet the author and sample another great title from Prism Book Group.
AUTHOR BIO
Carlene Havel writes Christian-themed romances and historical novels set in Biblical times. She’s lived in Turkey, Republic of the Philippines, and all over the southern half of the United States, from Florida to California. Carlene has worked for a banana importer, a software development company, and everything in between. She attended several colleges and universities, including one that surprised everyone by granting her a diploma. She enjoys reading, writing, and almost every variety of needlework. Carlene and her husband, Glenn, live in San Antonio, Texas, surrounded by their family. Read more about Carlene on her blog at:
http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6440085.Carlene_Havel/blog.
Sharon Faucheux was born in New Orleans, LA. Raised in Austin, Texas, she graduated from the University of Texas with a degree in Psychology. After living in several other states and countries, she now resides in San Antonio, TX. Sharon’s favorite activity is traveling with her always-entertaining family.
A Hero’s Homecoming
By Carlene Havel
CHAPTER
ONE
Colonel Rich Martino was more exhausted than he could ever remember being. After so many delays and time zone changes, he couldn’t even figure out how long he had been traveling. It was three-twenty p.m., Manila time, when he left the Philippine Islands. His flight was supposed to have left at noon, but a mechanical problem held things up for three hours. He missed his connection in Hawaii and spent an extra day in the Honolulu Airport waiting to get on a flight to San Francisco. After a brief stop in Guam, he finally touched down in California. Back in the good old U.S.A. for the first time in two years. He would have enjoyed it more if he hadn’t been so worn out.
By the time Rich reached San Francisco, his whole travel itinerary was a mess. He’d been through enough delays to take it in stride—up to a point. Eyes gritty, he went to the airline counter to see what he could do. Somehow, he managed to get in the slowest line. The trainee agent had to ask for help three times to get Rich ticketed. Since he sounded almost incoherent to himself, he sensed he wasn’t making a lot of sense to the ticket agent. After what seemed like an eternity, the arrangements were made, his boarding pass in his hands, and he was on his way home. Home. San Antonio, Texas. That was going to be a welcome sight.
After clearing through security, Rich located a pay phone to call his wife. There was no line, since everyone else who wanted to make a call was using a cell. Technology had no use in the jungles of Mindoro. There, a man needed a reliable weapon and his wits about him. Rich promised he would fix himself up with a cell phone as soon as he got a chance. Maybe even tomorrow. He smiled at the thought. Who was he kidding? Tomorrow he would sleep all day.
He knew he couldn’t be functioning well when he heard a recording indicating the number he entered was not a working telephone. “Can’t even remember my own phone number,” he groused to no one in particular.
Rich had emailed Rita from the American Embassy in Manila to inform her he was on his way home. He couldn’t remember if that was on Sunday or Monday. Occasional email and even rarer phone calls had been Rich’s only contact with his wife since their brief vacation in Hawaii last summer.
During the last year he’d reached the realization he was tired of living in the jungle, chasing terrorists. Though proud of his work as a special agent, he figured at forty-four it was someone else’s turn to carry the load.
Realistically, Rich knew as long as he was in the Air Force he would have essentially the same kind of job. Not many American Air Force officers were fluent in Tagalog. Even fewer could survive for months at a time in the jungle. The more he let himself think about retirement, the more Rich wanted it. He could live in a comfortable home with his beautiful wife, spend time with his Dad, take a cruise every year, and fly off to Vegas any time he desired. After a while, retiring seemed not merely the right thing, but the only thing to do. He could always work for his dad if he got bored. But he wouldn’t have to do anything he didn’t choose to.
Rich had planned his finances carefully. He and his wife could live comfortably on his savings and substantial stock portfolio, without ever touching his retirement pay or Rita’s income. Some of his friends sank into depression just thinking about leaving the service. He told the embassy staff—when was that? Monday?—“I’m leaving with mixed emotions, happiness and joy.”
That tired old cliché made the rounds in military circles for years, but it still got a laugh.
A broken seat delayed the flight from San Francisco to San Antonio for thirty minutes. After they pushed away from the gate, the pilot announced bad weather brewed over Texas and they would wait just a bit before taking off. While serving a third round of free drinks, one of the flight attendants doubled over with stomach cramps and started throwing up in the aisle. So they returned to a gate to wait for a cleanup crew and a replacement flight attendant.
As tired and frustrated as he was, Rich couldn’t help thinking the whole situation was somewhat comical. What a way to end his Air
Force career! Maybe it was the liquor. He chuckled, thinking how much fun he would have telling his wife and dad about the trip home. Rich wondered if his dad would be present when he arrived. Several of Rita’s recent emails mentioned his father was doing a lot of traveling back and forth to New York. Must be some kind of business deal.
Rich’s plane touched down in what his dad always called the Great State of Texas a few minutes after midnight. The weary travelers straggled into an almost deserted airport. Rich was glad he hadn’t asked Rita to meet him. He always said you never knew what could happen with an overseas flight and this trip clearly demonstrated Murphy’s Law had not been repealed. He was mildly surprised when his suitcase came around the carousel. Losing it would have been the final touch. When Rich saw an available taxi sitting outside the baggage claim area, he decided his string of bad luck had run its course. He was only a thirty-minute ride from his cool, comfortable bed.
A twinge of guilt nipped at Rich when he slumped into the back seat of the taxi, leaving his oversized bag for the short little driver to load into the trunk. I’ll take care of the guy with a good tip, he thought. He was way too tired to fool with luggage.
Normally, Rich would have chatted with the taxi driver, asking where he was from and catching up on San Antonio’s endlessly entertaining local politics. Instead, he said curtly, “Fifty-seven hundred Glen Oak Meadow, near Randolph.”
Only when he heard the high-pitched, “Yes, sir. I know right where that is,” did Rich realize his driver was a woman. Regret cut deeper for making her lift his suitcase, but his remorse wasn’t enough to keep him from falling asleep.
A noise startled Rich awake and he reached for his assault rifle. In a single quick motion, he was on the sidewalk. His suitcase too. The thumping noise proved to be the little driver closing the trunk of her taxi. Reality presented itself.
Nothing but twenty-dollar bills in his wallet. Rather than wait, he paid for his nineteen-dollar ride with two twenties and said, “I don’t need any change.”
The girl’s eyes bulged. “Thanks!”
In an instant she was nothing but tail lights, obviously making a quick getaway in case the big tip was a mistake. For a brief moment, Rich wondered why that little girl drove a taxi on the night shift, but his attention turned quickly to the front door of his tan brick home.
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