“You have to talk to Paltiel,” Merab said, as she caressed my forehead with concern.
“It’s just a passing condition,” I mumbled. “I’ll get over it.”
“I’m going to tell Jonathan to find another musician for Father. No player is worth losing a man like Paltiel.”
“If you send him away from the palace he’ll continue to haunt me for as long as I live. I must encounter him as often as possible, one encounter after another, until I grow weary of him. His charms are only effective at the beginning, before you get to know him.”
“How do you know how his charms work?”
“It’s my only chance. I don’t want to lose Paltiel.”
* * *
Jonathan was excited by my request to arrange a meeting with the young musician who’d stolen his heart, but was willing to do so only on the condition that he received permission from our father.
“Too bad you didn’t ask for his permission last time,” Merab muttered.
“That encounter wasn’t planned,” Jonathan apologized. “He just happened to walk by as we were sitting in the palace garden. This time I’ll introduce you formally, according to protocol. Father will agree; I’m sure of it. You should see the way he looks at him.”
And indeed, our father agreed wholeheartedly and even suggested broadening the meeting by inviting the entire family to a musical dinner. Mother rejoiced at the idea and ordered the cooks to prepare a special meal in the guest’s honor.
“The king’s servants have told us he plays the harp wonderfully,” said the cooks.
“Not only the harp,” said Mother enthusiastically. “After dinner he will play the eight-string, the flute, the pipe, and even the lyre!”
The cooks’ eyes sparkled with admiration, and Mother, whose reputation as the most generous queen in the world was well deserved, invited them to come listen to the performance.
In the hours before the event I tried on all my dresses, one after another, but I felt awkward in all of them. Merab came in, glanced at the pile of dresses on the floor, and turned right around and left. Eventually I chose the sky blue silk dress I had worn at the victory march a year earlier, when I had seen Paltiel for the first time. This choice further deepened my guilt, but I could see that betrayal looked good on me.
When I walked into the hall, Mother’s eyes widened in wonder. Even Father looked at me with pleasure. I took my place on the dais and felt my bones crumble with expectation.
* * *
He walked in, erect and proud, bowed to Father, and gave Merab a long look. I tried to take comfort by telling myself that it must have stung his eyes to see how beautiful I was and that it was easier for him to look at the less glamorous sister.
My throat was dry. I wanted to moisten my lips with my tongue, but I worried about the shiny rose oil coming off.
Jonathan stepped down from the dais, embraced his beloved friend, and introduced us, one by one:
Queen Ahinoam.
Prince Malkishua.
Princess Merab.
Princess Michal.
Prince Abinadab.
Prince Ishvi.
He bowed to each of us. We were paralyzed by his charm. Even little Ishvi caught his breath. Only Merab looked at him with open hostility.
He stood before us and fixed his eyes on her. “And I am your loyal servant, David son of Jesse.”
Five
The way his eyes sparkled when he looked at my sister made the truth slap me in the face without mercy.
“Are you out of your mind?” Merab spat out the words in disgust. “Even someone as arrogant as he is, so certain that everyone in the whole world is swooning over him, can’t help but notice how deeply I loathe him.”
I was only fifteen, but even then, in a flash of insight, I could see that her loathing was the very reason he wanted her, the only member of the royal family who wasn’t blinded by his charms.
Evil winds blew through the palace, but outwardly we continued to go about our business. I continued to receive letters from Paltiel, Merab continued to daydream about Adriel, and only David changed course, shifting his gaze from her to me.
My woman’s intuition wasn’t fooled by his tricks. “He wants to make you jealous of me.”
Merab’s eyes flashed with contempt. “His desires are of no consequence to anyone.”
I tried not to think about him, but his mysterious disappearance was driving me mad. In vain I desperately listened for sounds of music coming from the throne room—but none came. I couldn’t understand why he had stopped playing now, of all times, in these wearying days of waiting, as war with the Philistines threatened to break out at any moment. Father is with his soldiers in the Valley of Elah, and when he comes back to the palace every few days, he needs soothing music more than ever.
“Where is David?” I fought to conceal the concern in my voice.
Merab’s face clouded over. “You promised to take no more interest in him. You said yourself that he didn’t love you.”
“I want to know where he is.”
She sighed dejectedly. “Abinadab gave him leave to visit his old father in Bethlehem.”
“Since when does Abinadab give leave to Father’s musicians?”
“If you noticed anything that was going on around you, you would know that when Jonathan and Malkishua are in the Valley of Elah, Abinadab is in charge of palace affairs.”
“How could Father agree to give up his most talented musician now, when he needs music more than ever?”
She shrugged disdainfully. “Anyone can be replaced, even the son of Jesse.”
“David.” The way the name felt on my tongue made me shiver. “His name is David.”
“Old Jesse has eight sons and three grandsons, and they were all drafted into the army, all except for the dainty youngest son who would rather not taint his delicate hands with a sword. But someone has to take care of the untended herd in Bethlehem.”
“He’ll be back,” I said confidently.
“Back to the herd,” she said, her face twisting with scorn. “They say he used to be an excellent shepherd. Sheep and goats appreciate good music, too.”
“He’ll be back,” I repeated the words of consolation aloud, then again silently, over and over, like a prayer: He’ll be back. He’ll be back. He’ll be back.
* * *
I felt like I was going mad with yearning. There wasn’t a soul in the entire palace with whom to share my suffering. The person who had been my soul sister had warned me not to mention him in her presence; her nerves were already shot with worry for the safety of her beloved and of our brothers—the rumors reaching us from the battlefield do not bode well. Our soldiers are eager to start the war, but our father is putting it off, trying to draft more fighters. And those accursed Philistines are taking their time as well. Rumor has it they are expecting a giant warrior from the city of Gath, who will supposedly join their forces at the Valley of Elah and win the battle decisively for them.
I tried to feign interest in what she was saying. She looked me over icily, her face hardening with that disapproving expression I hated so much. “Even the fate of the nation doesn’t interest you anymore. Your head is only in Bethlehem.”
“What do you want from me, Merab?” My cry echoed throughout the palace.
“I want you to take an interest in something other than him. That’s what I want. I’m waiting for you to ask me to read you the letter I received from Adriel this morning. Actually, I don’t even need to read it; I’ve memorized it.”
I turned my head away and said nothing.
Her eyes filled with tears. “It’s nice out,” she whispered. “Let’s take a walk in the garden and chat like we used to. I miss those days so much. It seems like an eternity ago. I can hardly believe that, until just recently, our entire lives revolved around the men we loved. We would show each other the letters, talk about the secret encounters, and take pleasure in the memories of their tongues upon our lips.”
“Those days will never return.” Sorrow pinched my throat. I was silent for a moment, then said slowly and emphatically, as if making a promise, “But nothing can spoil our love for one another.”
“I’m not so sure.”
“Don’t talk that way, Merab. We’ll never be like Rachel and Leah, who allowed a stranger to burst into their lives and turn their love for one another into poisonous envy. We’ll keep loving each other until death.”
“Until death?” Merab’s voice caught in her throat, but then her hoarseness turned into a roar: “We’re so young. Why are you talking about death? When you loved Paltiel, life seemed so promising to you. Look at what the spell of the son of Jesse has done to you!”
The voices of the servants outside interrupted us. They shouted through the door that the king was summoning Merab to the throne room. I wondered why he was calling for her and not me. Until recently, the two of us would sit with him every once in a while and have a relaxed talk over wine and fruit. Once, little Ishvi complained that Father only indulged the girls this way, and Father explained patiently that he spent many hours with the boys discussing work, and that if he didn’t set aside time for his daughters he would only see them at victory marches. It’s been weeks since the last time we were invited to the throne room. Father is preoccupied with the war in the Valley of Elah and can’t make time for family. Odd that he is suddenly available, and odder still that he chooses to see only Merab. For a moment I was afraid that he had sensed the change in me and decided to question her about it, but then I rebuked myself for my selfishness. Merab is right; I really am unable to think of anything but my love. Even now, as my sister is being summoned for a mysterious talk with Father, I can think only of myself.
I lay in bed and tried to keep my thoughts on her, but they kept calling me back to the fields of Bethlehem. I felt like a court jester walking a tightrope and taking care not to look down at the abyss beneath his feet. I don’t know how long I slept. I woke up suddenly to the sound of crying. I leapt out of bed in alarm and hurried toward the sound. Merab was lying on her bed with her face buried in the blanket, her hair wild, and her body convulsed with panicked breathing.
“What happened?”
She raised her head. I was startled by the terror in her eyes. “Father has declared that I am to be a prize.”
“What kind of prize?”
“A prize for the warrior who kills the giant from Gath.”
“It can’t be!” I cried. “Father loves you.”
“He has no choice.” I heard an attitude of acceptance behind her tears. “The Philistines have managed to gather an enormous army and forge thousands of iron swords.”
“We also have iron swords, the ones we pillaged in the war at Mikmash.”
“Only a few. They have iron chariots, too.”
“Iron isn’t everything. In the days of the Judges, when the people of Israel were scattered and divided, that weapon was decisive in battle. But today we have a big, strong army. The Philistines’ iron didn’t help them in the last war.”
“Things are different now,” Merab whispered in fear. “Father is desperate.”
I felt terror crawl up my back and grip my throat. “The God of Israel will come to our aid,” I said, trying to cheer myself up.
“We can’t rely on Him. The prophet Samuel has acknowledged that it has been a long time since God revealed Himself to him. That’s a very bad sign.”
“Then what’s going to happen?” I had trouble wiping the cold sweat off my forehead with my trembling hands.
“Father has consulted with his best fighters, as well as with Jonathan and Malkishua, and everyone agrees: the Philistines are certain of their power and have no fear. They would have started the war long ago if they hadn’t been waiting for Goliath the giant, who is making his way from Gath to the Valley of Elah. He is their most revered symbol. Perhaps if they saw his severed head with their own eyes, the balance of power could change. A stampede is a powerful weapon that has defeated many a great army before. It’s our only chance.”
“Sounds like a great plan,” I said admiringly. “That’s how Jonathan settled the battle of Mikmash.”
“But at Mikmash the target was clear and stationary, while here we’re dealing with a stealthy monster who wanders the roads alone, never sitting still. Even the Philistines don’t know where their giant is.”
“Our soldiers will find him,” I said confidently. “The Judeans know the area like the backs of their hands.”
“Father needs his soldiers on the front lines. He can’t disperse the army. His messengers have roamed the land, asking for volunteers to assist with the search, but the response has been meager. Anyone willing to help has already been drafted, and the people at home prefer to stay among the sheep pens to hear the whistling for the flocks. That’s why Father must offer a tempting prize for whoever brings him the head of the Philistine monster.”
“And that prize is you,” I whispered in horror.
“He has no choice,” she sobbed.
For a moment, I was truly convinced that Merab had to make this sacrifice for her people. She wasn’t being asked to give up her life like the daughter of Jephthah, nor to put it at risk like Jonathan and Malkishua, but rather only to give up her love. But then I felt the rage stirring in my blood and coursing through my veins.
I jumped up and ran as fast as I could to the throne room. The servants tried to stop me, but I pushed them away and raced to Father. He looked down at me from his great throne, appalled.
“One does not come to see the king without being summoned,” he said. His deep voice always terrified me. “You are no longer a little girl; it’s time you learned the rules.”
In the past, I would have begged his forgiveness in the sweet childish voice that never failed me, but this time I stood up straight and looked him in the eye. “You are just like the wicked Laban,” I told him.
He recoiled with surprise. I took another step toward him and hurled the words that burned within me directly into his ears. “You treat your daughter like an object, selling her to the highest bidder. It makes no difference whether the price is paid in coin or in military victory. When Jacob asked Rachel and Leah to flee their father with him, Rachel said that Laban wasn’t even her father. ‘Does he not regard us as foreigners?’ our brave matriarch said. ‘Not only has he sold us, but he has used up what was paid for us.’ Rachel knew that she had found a loving husband thanks to God alone. If it had been up to her father, she may well have found herself in the hands of a scoundrel. You are like Laban, Father. Exactly like Laban. You have no idea who will kill the giant Philistine, yet nevertheless you have promised your daughter to that man.”
Just then, Merab walked in, mumbling in a frightened whisper, “I didn’t send her,” and she began to wail.
Father descended from his throne, lowered his head, and kissed her wet cheeks. “Michal is right,” he said.
The servants watched us with amazement. I felt not gladness, but rather a twinge of sorrow. Since when does a father admit that his daughter is right? All the more so a king, who is never wrong? As it is, Father is criticized so harshly for his extreme modesty and humility. He needs to be careful not to give up his honor so easily. Our people want a strong king who demonstrates his power. If this event becomes known to the public, it is liable to diminish him in their eyes, and they might go back to telling those wicked Judean tales about the great beauty and stature concealing insecurity and weakness.
“She is more righteous than I,” Father said, gesturing toward me. “I’m proud to be like Amram, who admitted that his daughter was right. Miriam dared to confront her father over his decision to abstain from lying with her mother after the decree that sons born to Israelites would be put to death. ‘You are worse than Pharaoh,’ Miriam told him. ‘Pharaoh’s decree was against only male children, while your decree is against females as well.’ Instead of spanking the child for her impudence, Amram admitted that she was right and we
nt back to his wife, Jochebed. Thanks to a brave young daughter, who dared to stand up to her father, Moses was born to take us out of Egypt and bring down the Torah from heaven.”
The servants stood rooted in place and listened to this unexpected sermon in tense silence. I waited for Father to go on and announce that the offer of the prize had been canceled, but he only stroked his beard in silence. I loved him so much at that moment.
“Everyone get out and leave me alone with my daughters,” Father ordered the servants.
I never took my eyes off him. He smiled at me and pulled me into an embrace. “My child,” he whispered. “I promise not to give your sister to a scoundrel.”
“But you cannot know who will kill Goliath,” Merab dared to whisper.
Father laughed. “The prize doesn’t cancel out the requirement of a bride price.”
“I don’t understand.…”
An impish glint shone in his eyes. I hadn’t seen him in such high spirits since before the days of waiting in the Valley of Elah had begun. “My dear daughters,” he savored the words with pleasure, as if enjoying a fine wine. “Let’s wait and see who kills the Philistine, and only then will we determine the bride price. If I don’t like him, I’ll set a price so high no man could meet it. Then no one could complain. That’s life: a person has to pay to get a princess.”
Six
Father was absolutely certain that his daughters were leaving the throne room reassured and in good spirits. He wouldn’t have believed that his older daughter was, in fact, in her bed weeping, her face buried in her sheets, while his younger daughter was sitting beside her, unable to offer solace.
“All is lost,” Merab sobbed. “I probably won’t marry a scoundrel, but I’ve lost the love of my life.”
It seemed silly to try to cheer her up by suggesting that perhaps no one would be able to kill the Philistine. What kind of comfort could she draw from the knowledge that we would all soon die or be taken captive? Even a loveless marriage would be better than becoming a slave to Philistine masters, who would be all the more excited to discover that their pretty Israelite captive was the king’s daughter.
The Secret Book of Kings: A Novel Page 14