“Very well then, looks like you’ll be a father again.”
David groaned as nausea kicked his belly. “Will you keep this a secret for me?”
“You can always trust Maacah. Am I not your fourth wife and a princess?” She rubbed his shoulders with her tiny hands and leaned her face on his chest.
“I have no choice. What should I do now? I don’t want to take her for wife. I can’t anyway, she’s Uriah’s wife.” Obliged, he gave her another peck on the mouth.
“Things do look bleak for you, my lord.”
David closed his eyes. “What if he kills me?”
“He wouldn’t dare.” Maacah chuckled, seeming to enjoy all the attention he lavished on her. “Well, there may be something you can do.”
“What is it? Tell me.” He planted an urgent kiss on her lips and fondled her breasts for good measure.
“Uriah is one of the mighty men, right? And he is under your command?”
“Yes, yes.” He nodded. “He is out fighting near the walls of Rabbah.”
“Ask him to come back to you with a report of the war. Naturally he’ll go home to his wife, so when he returns a year later, he’ll have a baby to greet him.”
“Maacah, you’re brilliant.” That idea cost David a roll in the bed and a couple more to be paid at a later date.
* * *
Uriah clicked his heels and bowed.
David clapped him on the shoulder. “My good fellow, go home to your new wife and enjoy dinner on behalf of your king.”
After bidding Uriah farewell, David sat in his tower to enjoy a meal. His thoughts turned to Michal. Once he straightened out this nasty situation, he’d bring her back to be his favorite wife.
He spent the evening strumming on his harp and praying. But God did not answer. He seemed to be far away. Around midnight, David woke covered in sweat. He should check on Maacah. She could have gossiped to Haggith. Then the entire kingdom would know.
He pulled on a cloak and opened the door. A huge body blocked his doorway.
“Ughh, who goes there?” David called.
The man sat up. “O King, it is your servant, Uriah.”
A sinking feeling settled between David’s thighs. “Why aren’t you with your wife?”
“My lord, how can I go to my wife when the Ark of the LORD and the king’s commander, Joab, are out in the fields under a tent? I took a vow to remain chaste and purified so the LORD will bless me and preserve my life.”
David fled across the courtyard to Maacah’s house.
She flung the door open. “My lord, what a wonderful surprise! Come in, the children are asleep.”
He stepped in her room, and Maacah tore off her clothes and lay on her bed.
“Maacah, let me talk first,” he said.
“My lord, a little talk and then…”
“Yes, yes, I promise.” David’s hands shook. “He did not go to his wife. The dumb log is asleep outside my door. What will I do?”
“Is he not a man? I’ve gone and taken a look at this Bathsheba. She’s not bad, my lord, although a little on the plump side.”
“It’s because she’s pregnant.” David thumped his hands on the bed.
“Now don’t get your manhood all knotted up about this. Think, think. Was Uriah so drunk he passed out?” Her hand went to his groin to do some untangling.
“No, actually he wasn’t. Tomorrow I will give him some drink, and he’ll be sure to go to her.” His heart skipped lighter, even giddy at the thought.
“That is a good plan, my lord. And since you’re here, you can give me a few lessons.” She tilted her head back and tittered with laughter. “Do me, like you do Michal.”
David pressed his fingers over her little bird bones. “Then do not be so compliant.”
He pushed her. She took a deep breath, her eyes flashing, and pushed him back.
“Harder, Maacah, pretend like you hate me.”
She hit him over the head with a pillow. “Are you telling me Michal hates you?”
“I’m not telling you anything.” He lunged and wrestled her to the bed.
* * *
Uriah became drunk but did not go home. He slumped in front of David’s door and refused to leave. David considered having his guards lug him over, but Uriah was so stone drunk he would not be able to credibly perform the act. He would only remember the struggle with the guards and wonder why David forced him to go to his wife.
David threw up his hands and paced the room. His nerves tingled at every sound, and his heart beat in a strange rhythm. He passed by his window. She sat on her roof fanning herself. She looked so sad and forlorn. She had set the table with the food he had sent. There, she walked to the edge of the roof, looking at the street below. She put her hands over her eyes, and her shoulders shook with weeping. His heart thumped and threatened to burst from his chest. How could that lump abandon her, make her feel so worthless?
Bathsheba caught him staring. Her gaze pierced his already swollen heart. He pulled on a cloak with a large hood and stepped over the slumbering man.
She opened the door before he raised his hand to knock. All the fear and anxiety of the day served as a catalyst to fuel his lust. The heat between them flared like an oil lamp. She fought with the fury of a scorned lover and clasped him like a prisoner between her legs. David could have died in the hot rush of pressure that swallowed him deep inside of her.
Fever spent, David pulled his clothes back on for the long, slow walk to his empty bedchamber. How had such a beauty been kept from him? Uriah must have hidden her. He’d have a word with her father. She deserved a better life than to be neglected and hurt by such an insensitive man.
He sighed. Bathsheba had kissed him, long and lingering. “I think I’m falling in love.” Her words echoed in his ear.
Skirting the sleeping form, David climbed the stairs to his tower: each step a thump, a hammer, a thud, a prison door, a coffin lid, the stone on the sepulcher. He slipped into his room and lit the lamp. Oh, Bathsheba, I think I’m falling in love, too.
David took out his writing instruments and penned a short note to Joab. Set Uriah in the forefront of the hottest battle and withdraw from him so he may be killed.
At dawn, he wrapped the note in a piece of cloth, tied it and handed it to Uriah to take to Joab.
David set his jaw as Uriah rode away.
Chapter 39
Malachi 2:14 Yet ye say, Wherefore? Because the LORD hath been witness between thee and the wife of thy youth, against whom thou hast dealt treacherously: yet is she thy companion, and the wife of thy covenant.
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Red, yellow, and orange leaves fluttered from the oaks and birches. The days turned chilly, and David had no word from the front. Perhaps Uriah had lost the note. Uriah was such a brave and valiant man, perhaps he survived. Or maybe Joab ignored the directive.
He should never have visited Bathsheba that night. He should have dragged that man into her bed and let her work her skills on him.
O God, let the note be lost and preserve Uriah’s life.
David saddled a horse and told Hushai, he would not be holding court for a week or two. His mind all a jumble, he packed some of Michal’s gowns along with a tent and camping supplies.
He set his horse on the two day journey to Lo-debar. He rode alone and anonymously, dressed as a commoner.
If Uriah returns, pay him to divorce Bathsheba. It’s simple.
No, he won’t divorce her. He might ask questions.
Then order him to raise the baby as his own.
No, the baby is mine, and I want Bathsheba.
You have enough wives and sons. Uriah has only the one.
I can get him another wife. I need Bathsheba. He obviously does not love her like I do.
You have Michal and the others. You love them all.
But I love Bathsheba more. She does something to me.
It’s only lust. You promised Michal she’d be your favorite wife.
I pro
mised her she’d be my only wife, but I’ve already messed that up. What’s one more?
Michal will be disappointed.
Then that is her problem. Maacah seems to approve.
It’s only because she’s getting all this attention from you.
I can’t let Michal know. How can I keep her from finding out?
Keep her away from Maacah. Keep her isolated in your tower.
Can I trust Maacah?
Only if you satisfy her. You’ll have to spread yourself out and give her what she wants.
What does Abigail think about me? I wonder if she suspects.
Abigail is loyal. She will pray for you. Do not worry about Abigail.
Oh my, I miss Ahinoam. She’s been so quiet. I need to go see her.
You are in a world of trouble. How did you expect to keep one wife happy, much less a multitude?
I keep Abital happy. I buy her birds.
Yes, she’s the only one. What about Haggith?
What about Haggith? Will Joab tell her?
No, she’ll do and say anything Joab wants. She loves Joab, you knew about that.
No one must know.
Yes, no one must know.
* * *
I sat under a palm tree with my nephew, Meribbaal. A balmy breeze blew with the last heat of summer. Machir, Anna’s husband, prepared for the grape harvest, a time when the entire family would stay overnight in watchtowers amongst the vines to guard against thieves. The green olive harvest followed, and after that would be the black olives.
Meribbaal rolled his wheelchair to my side. Crippled in both feet from an accident, he played a reed flute and whiled away the lazy afternoons with me. Our family had believed him lost, but Machir’s father, Ammiel, had taken him in and given him a home where he’d be safe from the assassins who killed my brother Ishbaal.
A lone rider trotted up the dusty lane. I shielded my eyes from the evening sun. He wore a dark green cloak. His hair was cropped too short to be Ittai. Machir gripped his pitchfork and motioned us to the house.
I lingered, unable to keep my gaze off the solitary figure.
The rider dismounted. “Eglah,” he said.
“David?” No matter how long we’d been apart, he still had the ability to stop my heart and still my breath.
Machir and Anna bowed at the sight of the king. Meribbaal lowered his head to his knees.
David grabbed my hand. “You look radiant and well. I’ve come to take you home.”
“But you came alone,” I said. “Is it seemly for a king to travel alone?”
Machir and Anna remained prostrated on the ground. David cleared his throat. “Tell your daughter and son-in-law they may stand. I came not as king, but as their father-in-law.”
They brushed off their clothing and stammered with pleasure at having the king’s company.
He bent and kissed Meribbaal. “The offer is still open. Come and live with me at the palace as my son. I swore an oath to your father to protect his seed.”
Meribbaal bowed his head. “Who am I that the King of Israel shall take notice of me?”
“You are the son of my best friend.” David squeezed his shoulder and pushed his wheelchair into Machir’s modest home.
After an enjoyable dinner and evening of conversation, David followed me to my bedchamber. I arranged and rearranged my hair ornaments and jewelry on the table, afraid to meet his eye. Crickets chirped, and leaves rustled in the breeze. The sweet fragrance of the night jasmine wafted through the window, but I remained at the table while David took off his robe and sat on the bed.
Why was I so reticent? Could I not fall into his arms and forget the past? He had come for me, yet he seemed stiff and foreign, overly solicitous and polite. Something was not quite right.
He patted the bed. “You should get some rest since we’ll leave before dawn.”
I twisted the edge of my robe and tightened my knuckles. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”
David stood and placed his hands on my shoulders. He looked at my reflection in the bronze mirror. “You’re not happy to see me?”
“Why are you here?”
He pulled me to the bed. “Don’t worry. I won’t violate you since you seem so inclined to be cold to me.”
Where did my David go? The man staring at me wore a mask. Something ate at him. I’d seen that haunted look in my father’s face.
“You don’t have to take me back if you don’t want,” I said.
“I know.” He scrutinized my face for a long period of time. “Now, sleep. Tomorrow, we’ll go on a trip, and we’ll talk.”
He put out the oil lamps and peeled my robe off. I lay awake a long time after his breathing steadied into deep sleep. What could I tell him? These last few months had been peaceful, and I had healed. But not quite. Ittai had disappeared. And my sons left without a word. Jada was also gone. My daughter and her husband loved me, as did Meribbaal. I may not be entirely happy, but neither was I miserable.
David snored.
I stared into nothingness.
* * *
David waited for his wife to say goodbye to Anna, Machir, and Meribbaal. He put her on the horse with him, and they rode west toward the Jordan River. The land immediately around Lo-debar was well cultivated and rolling, but as soon as they left the valley, the terrain became rockier. The earlier chill had given way to a pleasant temperature with a slight breeze.
“Is it dangerous for us to be out here alone?” Michal asked after a few miles. She seemed more relaxed than the night before.
“No, maybe we’ll keep going north and never return. I hear there is a sea way to the north called the Black Sea.”
“Yes, let’s disappear and let the legends take us,” she agreed. “The Black Sea. Sounds like a place with dragons and bats, and high lonely castles, and brooding dark-haired men.”
“Brooding you’ll get, but no dark-haired men while I’m around,” he said.
She shivered, and he pulled her closer.
They ascended a trail lined with oaks and wild olives. Below them lay a narrow valley with a fast flowing brook, the banks lush with trees and shrubs. David hitched the horse near the water and pitched a tent under a shaded ledge.
As long as he could pretend this trip was about her homecoming, he could stay away from the edge of the nightmare back in Jerusalem. They stepped down a fissure in the rock. A waterfall tumbled over a precipice; the sunlight divided the spray into multi-colored points. A blue-green pool carved from the falling water shimmered below.
David stripped his garments and jumped into the water. Michal looped her legs on an overhanging branch and sat above him.
“Come, Eglah.” He beckoned. “Aren’t you hot? And need a bath?”
She shook her head. “I’ll enjoy the breeze and the view from here.”
David flipped his naked body into a dive allowing her to catch sight of his backside and surfaced with a shake of his head. “Come on in.”
When she didn’t respond, he leaned back on the water, showing her his entire front side.
“You’re a vile man. Do you enjoy exposing yourself to everyone around?” Michal poked him with a long, slender willow branch. “Oh, how glorious you are, King David, naked David.”
David swiped the branch out of her hands. But she grabbed another branch with leaves attached and swished it over his loins. He flipped onto his stomach. When she lunged to poke his backside, he yanked the branch. She lost her balance and plunged belly first into the pool.
Michal splashed, unable to gain a foothold. David grabbed her hair and dragged her into his arms. “Who’s the glorious one now?”
He pressed his mouth over hers and swept her lips open with a wet kiss while his hands moved to strip her wet clothes.
Michal turned her head and pushed his chest. “Don’t. I can’t give in.”
“What can’t you give in to?” David nuzzled her neck. “I’m your husband, aren’t I?”
She swallowed and le
aned back. “Doing this isn’t going to change anything.”
“Who came to me rolled in a rug? You know you want me.” He caressed her breasts.
She nudged his hands aside. “What I don’t want is the gnawing pain—the pain I had buried.”
“So, you’d rather have empty peace? No expectations, no disappointments? Is that it?”
Michal clutched her throat and blinked. “Why do we have to talk?”
He clasped her neck. “I waited eight years for you to come to me, and all the while, I sent you notes.”
“You did not.” She pouted. “I checked every scroll, unrolled it.”
David chuckled at the blush that flushed her face. “Oh, but I did. Every psalm, prayer and hymn, I wrote to God, but also to you. Think I didn’t have an army of scribes?”
He took her hand and entwined his fingers around hers. “I wanted you to know my heart, and I wanted you to have peace with God. Did you have peace?”
“Yes, I did. I buried you deep in the jade box, and I survived. But now… it’s like we opened the box and let out a storm of pain.”
He trailed a kiss behind her ear. “I can make you feel better.”
“Not now, please.” She tugged his arm. “Let’s put some dry clothes on and get something to eat.”
She pulled out of his arms. The lump grew in David’s throat until it pressed over his chest. She was afraid. Michal, who never feared, now feared him. What had he done to her?
That evening, David sat at the fireside by himself and watched the embers die. Michal had eaten and crawled into the tent. He threw the last stick into the fire and joined her.
She lay stiff on her side, facing the far side. David crept behind her and cradled her. He struggled for the words that wouldn’t come. The last eight years had been a tortuous journey of nightmares and anxiety. He closed his eyes and prayed for sleep, for rest, for peace.
He dreamed.
Sweat beaded into his eyes. He was on a cart flaked with dried blood. A bloated face, covered with flies, stared at him. Another arm dangled, the flesh hanging in strings over pale bone. The rolling of the cart sickened his stomach. Was he dead?
David clawed his face and peeled off flesh. The cart stopped. Women wept and wailed. A sonorous voice called the names. David, son of Jesse. Michal stepped forward, wrapped in a black veil. They threw his body at her feet. She dropped her veil, her face a skull. I hate you, David. Now, be gone. Her laughter cackled, wild as the whirlwind.
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