* * *
David’s eyelids flickered in sleep. He stared at the tip of his sword. It was covered in blood. He turned over the body and pulled the man’s hair back. It came off in his hands, seven locks woven in crimson threads.
Absalom. His eyes opened, and a cheeky grin slashed his face. “You killed me. You killed your own son. You should have let me win.”
Absalom tossed his bald head back and laughed with blood stained teeth. Laughed and laughed and laughed.
David tossed on the bed. Where was he? And Michal?
She clung to him. She smelled of amber, not jasmine. His head hurt, and he remembered. He should have left her in Jerusalem.
Ittai had shown with six hundred men. Now he had taken Michal.
“David, David?” Maacah’s voice called to him, through a dark mist, far away.
He struggled, swinging through the thorns and brambles.
“David, you’re hurting me.” A stinging slap woke him.
He blinked, once, twice. He waved his hand in her face. It did not change.
“Maacah?”
She lit a lamp. “I should leave now.”
“No, don’t leave.” His gaze darted across the room.
Her eyes watered. “But our son, Absalom. Why? David, kill Joab.”
He clutched her hair. “I can’t kill Joab. He’s saved my life too many times.”
“I’m leaving you. Let me go,” she screamed.
“Why? You’re my wife.”
“You had another nightmare. I’ll get Michal.”
“No, I can’t be seen with her,” he said. “Not in front of my people, my army.”
“Why? All your wives know. You think you hide your insanity so well.”
He slapped the edge of the bed. “I am not weak. I am in control of my kingdom.”
“You’re the king,” she said in a sing-song voice. “Everyone should respect you, reverence you, and obey you.”
“Like Absalom did?”
Her brows lowered, and the left side of her lip rose in a snarl. “He would have been a better king than you. He cared about the people. You lock yourself in your tower writing songs, wooing your disposed queen, lovesick. You think he didn’t know? Or the rest of your kingdom?”
He raised his hand and put it down.
Her eyes narrowed. “Or do you want me to lie to you?”
He lay back. “Yes, Maacah. Tell me sweet lies, Maacah, you’re so good at it. Lies like soft pillows, warm sheepskin, lies, Maacah. Tell me.”
“Everyone loves you, David. Especially Michal. All your wives reverence you, and the people adore you. You’re King David, the mighty, the glorious, the beneficent, all powerful, all good. You’re the anointed of the LORD. God shines his favor on you.”
* * *
My heart burned with guilt. No question Ittai’s six hundred men had saved David’s kingdom. But my disloyalty could not be excused. I washed myself in the river, scrubbing my skin raw. Oh, God, I’m an adulteress. I should be stoned.
Ittai whistled a tune, intruding into my agony. “Michal, I brought food. I’m betting you’re famished.” He licked his fingers. “Chicken.”
I pulled on my clothes and sat on the rocky bank, hugging my knees, my head bent forward.
“Will you now run away with me?” he asked.
“I’ve sinned.” I hung my head as sobs bubbled from my throat.
He waved a piece of chicken in front of my nose. “Don’t think about it.”
“How can you sit there and eat as if nothing happened?”
He arched a single eyebrow. “I’m Philistine. Sin is not in my vocabulary.”
“I can’t face David anymore. I’m ruined. Just kill me.”
He smacked his lips on another piece of chicken. “It’s not every day a woman wants to die after being with me.”
“Is everything a joke to you?”
“No, you’re not a joke. Come here.” He rolled me into his arms. I cried in his chest until my tears were spent.
“It’s getting late,” I said. “I should go back to my tent. Abital will worry.”
He handed me a bowl and a wineskin. “Eat something first.”
The aroma of the spiced chicken watered my mouth. I didn’t know when my next meal would be, or what David planned now that Absalom’s forces had been scattered. A lingering sob shook my chest. I could never face David again. I sipped the wine while Ittai took his horse to the river.
Crickets chirped in cadence to my pounding heart. The wine warmed my bowels. I breathed the tangy scent of the evening and drank more. Ittai returned and offered me his hand.
I stood too quickly and stumbled. To deflect his concern, I tapped his bicep. “I meant to ask you, my dear Ittai. Have you married yet?”
He snickered. “And I meant to ask you, my dear Michal. Have you been widowed yet?”
“But, my dear Ittai, hasn’t it been your doing that I’m not?”
“So, my dear Michal, I have no choice but to resort to kidnapping.” He led me to his horse.
“You’re not serious, are you?”
He pushed me on his horse. “I don’t see you struggling.” He jumped on behind me. “Why would you think I’d marry anyone but you?”
“I figured you’d eventually find someone and settle down.”
“The only someone I want is you,” he said. “Now if you could get over your obsession for the king, I’d have a chance.”
“If I could split myself into two women…” I laughed at the thought. “Have you heard the ridiculous nickname David calls me?” My words slurred. “Eg…g-lah.”
“Oh, you mean Eglah, the cow? Yes, while you were on your deathbed.”
We both laughed as if my deathbed scene came from a Philistine comedy.
“I’ve an idea,” he said. “I’ll take Michal, and we’ll leave Eglah for him, wouldn’t that be funny?”
I giggled while he tickled me to make me laugh more. “But Eglah would be so boring. Do you know she sits in his tower and pen scrolls for him all day long?”
He yawned in an exaggerated manner. “And what does she do at night?”
“She is his blanket, his comforter. She keeps him from having nightmares. She trims his beard, gives him baths, rubs his back. She loves him when he’s sick, especially when he’s sad.”
“She sounds sweet. What does she do for him in bed?”
I elbowed him. “Why? Are you jealous?”
“Of Eglah? Not one bit. What I want to know is how Michal’s been doing all these years.”
I took a deep breath, and the crushing pit in my stomach returned. “Michal has been hiding. No one cares about Michal. Michal wants to die.”
My breath shuddered, and I lowered my head between my hands.
He kissed my neck and the side of my head. “It can’t be that bad. It can’t be.”
“I went back to him because I wanted to help him, but part of him still hates me. He spread me on the rug on top of the tree of life and told me I was a failure, barren—that I didn’t keep my vow to love only him.”
“What a rotten thing to say. Does he love only you?” Ittai spurred his horse up a cliff-side trail.
“It’s not the same. He’s a man. He expects his wives to be loyal.”
Ittai huffed. “But Eglah, if she exists, loves only David. Isn’t that true?”
“Yes, she does. She walks with him every morning to the tabernacle and prays with him. They watch the sunrise together, and he requires her to be veiled. But Michal? Michal is too naughty, and Michal has been unfaithful.”
“Unfaithful? Do you mean just now?”
“Yes, Michal should be stoned.”
Ittai squeezed my shoulder. “Not where we’re going, you won’t. So tell me, if Eglah loves David, who does Michal love?”
I sucked on the wineskin before turning it upside down, empty.
Ittai took it from me. “You know that was Phaltiel’s best vintage, and you guzzled it like water?”
I
hiccupped and leaned against his chest. Did Michal even know who she loved?
We traveled until the night became too dark. Ittai pitched his tent on top of a bed of pine needles near a trickling brook. The crisp, spiny scent soothed my bruised soul. We lay outside the tent and sang the song of Samson and Delilah, lovers separated forever.
He placed his cloak over my head and brought me into his tent. He told me he had a wife. Her name was Michal. He made love to Michal all night, and he filled her with boundless pleasure while raking her back with pine needles of guilt.
* * *
There was no turning back. I would never see David again. I sat in the tent, twirling Bathsheba’s crown. With nothing but the clothes on my back, David’s cloak, and a few pieces of jewelry, the garnet bracelet, and the emerald diamond necklace sewn into my robe, I faced exile.
We rose mid-morning, packed our camp and resumed westward toward the Jordan River.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Gibeah,” Ittai said. “I have to check on my daughter, Kyra.”
“Daughter? You liar. You did marry. Let me off right now.”
“Michal, I can explain.”
I wagged my head and said in a sing-song voice, “I can explain. I can explain. Let me off.”
He halted the horse and slid me off. “So long, Princess. Let’s see if your husband comes after you. I’ve a daughter to tend to.”
He flipped his hair over his shoulder and trotted off.
Teardrops rolled down my cheeks. Ittai had taken my virtue, mesmerized me with his honeyed tongue, and pushed me off the slippery slope of sin. My utter loneliness and destitution was hardly an excuse for unfaithfulness.
I banged my head against a tree trunk, waiting for him to return. Several minutes passed. A biting breeze rattled leaves from the tree. A scurrying noise pattered behind me. The hair on the back of my scalp tingled. The forest crept with silent feet. The absence of bird sounds meant a predator lurked.
The bushes rustled behind me. The fear of wolves crowded my mind. I had to get back on the road. The tree shadows mocked me. A menacing presence stalked me.
“Ittai!” I cried, “Where are you?” Crunching steps came toward me, and I screamed. Something charged, grunting and breathing hard. I stumbled through the bushes and tumbled into a water hole. A loud thwack sounded on my right.
“Got it.” Ittai wiped his sword on a tree stump and sheathed it.
“What was it?” I crawled out soaking wet.
“Stay here.” He crept over and laughed loudly. “It’s a wild boar, Michal. A wild boar charged you. You fell into his drinking hole.”
Drenched and humiliated, I crouched on the bank and covered my face. Ittai had lied to me, but at least he saved me from the boar.
Thumping and dragging sounds proceeded from the thicket. Ittai whistled while I wept. He slung the boar over a tree branch, slit its abdomen, and pulled out the sack of entrails.
Then he tied the boar on the back of his horse and washed his hands in the pool. Still sniffling, I put my head between my knees when he stomped his feet at my side.
“Are you going to let me explain?” he said.
“All men lie to me.”
“You’re not going to listen, are you?”
After a few moments of silence, he squatted at my side and sighed. “The problem with princesses, they’re always right.”
He tugged my shoulder. “Come on.”
Having no better alternative, I followed him mutely and allowed him to place me on the horse with the boar. I held my tongue about the unclean animal in back of me. Ittai walked in front at a brisk pace.
We forded the Jordan at the town of Adam and camped in the hills just west of the river. With winter upon us, temperatures dropped as soon as the sun set.
Ittai chewed on a cinnamon stick. “I was angry with you for assuming the worst of me. But my mother told me never to let the sun go down on my anger. So I’ve let it go. Let me know when you’re ready to talk.”
He lit a fire and cut a few strips of meat from the carcass, roasting it. My mouth watered, but the boar was unclean and against the Law. Ittai wiggled a strip under my nose. The smell was delectable but I clamped my jaw and rolled into the tent. My clothes still damp from my fall into the pool, I shivered and thought about David. I had betrayed him and no longer deserved to be called by his name. Ruined and desolate, I sobbed.
Ittai crawled into the tent and stretched. Without asking, he wrapped me in his arms and rubbed my shoulders. “We need to get you warmer clothes. Tomorrow morning we’ll be in Gibeah. We would have made it if we had ridden on. But now, we’ll have a feast. At least some of us will.”
His arms comforted me, and his chest warmed me. I tried to hold onto my anger, but he melted it with kindness by rubbing my cold feet and covering me with his cloak.
“I’m ready,” I said.
“You have to stop being so jealous.” His coal black eyes stared at me. “I found Kyra abandoned in a cave, but even if I had fathered her, you should understand and accept it.”
His words shamed me. I clasped the back of his neck and kissed his cheek. “You’re right.”
Chapter 47
Song of Solomon 2:8 The voice of my beloved! behold, he cometh leaping upon the mountains, skipping upon the hills.
>>><<<
David slammed his fist on the oak table. “Ahithophel is dead, you say? Good. I should never have trusted him with Absalom.”
Hushai the Archite, his loyal advisor, passed him a goblet of wine. “I did as you asked. I defeated the counsel of Ahithophel. He advised Absalom to send twelve thousand men to pursue you the first night. It would have been a disaster.”
David rubbed his beard. “Yes, we would have been slaughtered.”
“Ahithophel also advised Absalom to lie with your concubines. What shall we do with them?”
“Put them in a locked section of the women’s courtyard. They shall live as widows.”
“Some are quite young. Shall we marry them off?”
“Maybe. Lock them for a month. Those without child can be sold if they wish.”
A courier dropped to the ground with a scroll. “King David, Joab sends a message.”
Hushai opened the message and read, “Permission sought to pursue Sheba the Benjamite. He has gathered all tribes of Israel except for Judah.”
“Granted.” David wiped his forehead. A Benjamite, Michal’s tribe. And where was she? Ittai had also disappeared. Ittai was a Benjamite from his mother’s side. Enemies surrounded him.
“Send a contingent to Gibeah and apprehend Ittai.” His spies informed him that Ittai’s mother still lived in the house of Ribai, her father. “Bring him back alive, and only him.”
He didn’t ever wish to see Michal again. How could she abandon him in his grief? She had betrayed him. She could rot and bury herself in Gibeah. He didn’t care. The pain in his chest belied his thoughts, but he couldn’t admit how much she had hurt him.
David adjourned court and walked to the women’s courtyard. Of his many wives, only Ahinoam and Abital returned. Maacah had gone home to her father, and the rest had run off. Bathsheba stayed back in Mahanaim, too ashamed of her grandfather’s role to return to Jerusalem so soon.
He greeted Ahinoam and Abital with long hugs, taking comfort in their loyalty. “Tell me about your journey.”
He took Abital in one hand and Ahinoam with the other. The three of them walked out the gate and alongside the palace wall.
* * *
Ittai and I arrived in Gibeah in the early morning. He handed the boar to the camp cook and ran to his grandfather’s house. Men greeted him. Four of my sons surrounded me with hugs.
Before I could ask where Joshua was, Joel said, “Kyra’s missing.”
Ittai slapped the wall. “What do you mean she’s missing?”
“We think she left with her friends on an adventure,” Gaddiel said.
“Why aren’t you looking for her?”
<
br /> They shuffled and stared at one another. Joel spoke. “We’ve pledged our allegiance to Sheba. Haven’t you heard? He will restore the throne to our tribe. Eleven tribes are united against David.”
“You can’t do that,” I said. “David is God’s chosen king.”
“No, he’s the usurper.” Joel glared at me. “We saw what kind of man he was when we fought for him. His own tribe supported Absalom, but he rewarded the men of Judah who returned to him and spurned the rest of the tribes, as if we had no part in the kingdom.”
Ittai threw up his hands. “Boys, this is rebellion. Treason. I won’t allow you to leave this farm.”
“You cannot stop us,” Gaddiel said. “Look at the way he treated our mother as a common harlot. He cast her out and kept her on the side.”
I slapped him so hard his head jerked. “I didn’t bring you up this way. No one is going anywhere.”
Eliah hugged me. “Mother, we have to go. We’ve suffered enough under the king. He raises taxes every year and conscripts forced labor, even among freedmen. You must understand. Israel will be in ruins.”
Beraiah stood back, rocking on his heels, looking from brother to brother.
“Where’s Joshua?” I asked him.
He shrugged. “He went off with Rachel to look for his son.”
“Who’s Rachel?” I asked, but nobody took notice.
Joel and Gaddiel slung their satchels and headed for the door. Ittai rushed to block them. Gaddiel knocked him on the head with the hilt of his sword, and Joel tied him up. Eliah tied my hands. “I’m sorry, Mother.”
The hoof beats of their horses faded in the distance. I wiggled to Ittai’s side and nudged him. He groaned but did not regain consciousness. I could do nothing but wait.
I turned to the LORD. Please forgive me this sin. Don’t hold the sword over my heart continually. I’ve sinned against you and David. But let me have peace with David. Don’t let me be dead to his heart. And protect David’s kingdom, for he is your anointed.
The more I prayed, the more anguished I became. Did I not pray properly? Or had God turned his back on me? My sin is always before me. I wet my bed with tears. LORD, I’m sorry, forgive me my iniquity, O LORD, and fill me with your mercy.
A sharp rap on the door interrupted me. “Open up. King’s guards.”
Michal's Window Page 47