Michal's Window

by Ayala, Rachelle

  My heart froze. David had tracked us. They flung the door open and wrestled Ittai to his feet. He swung as if drunk. One man took a pitcher of water and doused him. “How nice of you to be tied up already.”

  Ittai struggled to speak. “What? Where?”

  They dragged him to the door. “King David demands your presence.”

  “Wait,” I called. “What about me?”

  Arik stuck his face close to mine. “His orders were to take only Ittai. He specifically said, ‘No one else.’ And that means he doesn’t want you.”

  “At least cut her bonds,” Ittai said.

  “That wasn’t part of our orders.” They sneered and marched off with Ittai.

  I lay on my face and wept. David, you hate me. God, let me die.

  Several hours later, maybe even a day or two, a pair of wrinkled hands put a water skin to my lips and untied my bonds. Tora’s scarred lips kissed my cheek. “Michal, I remember you. David’s wife.”

  * * *

  David thumped his spear. Arik threw Ittai onto the ground, almost knocking Hushai over.

  “Untie him and leave us alone,” David said, wrinkling his nose. Ittai smelled sour, like burnt pig. David spat on him.

  Hushai stepped back. “Are you sure? He’s a warrior and dangerous.”

  “Are you saying I can’t overpower him?”

  Arik untied Ittai and shoved him. “You touch a hair of his head, and we’ll skin you alive and fry you.” To David, he said, “I’ll be right outside.”

  David pulled Ittai to a seat at the table and pushed a platter of food. “Eat.”

  Ittai shook his head and stared at his feet.

  David leaned back and steepled his fingers. “What do you have to say, brother?”

  “Kill me, but do not touch Michal.”

  A gravelly chuckle scratched David’s throat. “I have no intention of touching her, I can assure you that. Never mention her name to me again.”

  “Yes, my king.”

  “Now, as for you. Did you mean it when you gave me your oath of loyalty?”

  Sweat popped over Ittai’s forehead. He raked his disheveled hair and scratched his stubbly face. “Yes, I’m still your loyal servant.”

  “Then why did you aid the rebels? Sheba’s men?”

  His red eyes blinked. “I did no such thing. Whatever you will have me do, my lord, I shall do it.”

  David’s fingers tapped at a faster rate, his fingernails making a sharp clicking sound. “First, you shall never speak to or see my queen again. If she comes to you, you will walk away. If she calls for you, you are to shut your ears. You are not to write her, take any messages to her, nor receive any sort of communication. She shall be dead to you. Since you cannot communicate with her, either yourself or through third parties, you shall give her no reason for your refusal.”

  A tear slipped from the corner of Ittai’s left eye and traced the scar David gave him. “I’d rather die than see her hurt.” His lips trembled. “Please, execute me for treason.”

  “Making love to the queen is treason. You’re right. But I refuse to execute you. It would be too easy for her. She must pay.”

  David sipped water and cleared his throat. “You will serve me as my armor bearer. Your first task is to defeat the rebels. You will return to Jerusalem until I either release you, or I go to my fathers. Should you step outside of Jerusalem without my permission, I will tie her on the highest tree, alive, and let the birds pick her eyes out.”

  “You wouldn’t. She’s your—”

  “You control her fate.”

  Ittai raised his head. “My king, you are too generous. I shall fight for you. Wherever my lord, the king lives, I will live, whether in death or life, I will be your servant.”

  * * *

  David punched his bed, his empty bed. He tore his sheets, his skins, his clothes. Why Michal, why? Did she have no idea how much she hurt him? How much he loved her?

  The nightmares had returned. He thought he had peace. But there was no peace.

  The sword knows. Spinning, spinning, where it would stop, only God knows.

  He opened his window and leaned out.

  “David.”

  He startled.

  Abital hurried in, her cheeks two spots of red. “What are you doing?”

  He stepped back, dropped his hands, and smiled. “Fresh air.”

  “Joab has the head of Sheba the Benjamite.”

  “Wonderful, we celebrate tonight.”

  Betrayers, Michal, and her sons. Traitors. The seed of Saul, the seed of the serpent.

  * * *

  I opened the door, and Tora stepped in. Her eyes were red with weeping.

  “Do you know what’s happened to Ittai?” I asked. “He came by but did not speak to me.”

  Tora’s eyebrows creased. “He’s not allowed to speak to you, by order of the king. He’s captured Joel, Gaddiel, and Eliah, and brought them back. He had them flogged.”

  “Flogged!” I shrank in horror. “Where are they?”

  “You’re not allowed to see them, by order of the king.”

  I stomped my feet. “Forget the king. They’re my sons.”

  “The king has spies in this village. Do you wish to bring the king’s sword on us?”

  My throat dried, and I swallowed the rising lump of acid. “You’re right.”

  I paced across the room. My sons, why did they turn against David and incur his wrath? I stopped at the window and bent over the sill. A two story drop would not kill me. I could be maimed and live. Oh God, save me and help me, for I am undone.

  Tora stroked my hair. “There is a cave where I used to play as a girl. Let’s take a hike, just me and you.”

  “But my sons, are they hurt badly?”

  “They’ll live. Ittai did the flogging himself. The important thing is that David knows they were punished. You know they should have been hanged, but the king forgave all who rebelled.”

  A hike would help me. Could David forgive my betrayal? Ittai would obey David. He was the loyal one, and I’d never see him again. I grabbed my cloak, David’s cloak, and wrapped it around me as if it were his arms.

  Tora packed a bundle of food and slung a blanket over my shoulder. Arm in arm, we walked with our baskets past the gate of Gibeah. The guards took no notice of two women, no longer young, who gathered plants along a path through large outcroppings of boulders and scattered fig trees. Small patches of cucumbers and melons were cultivated on the terraces between the hills. The fresh loamy smell of the tilled earth signaled warmer weather.

  We cut through a narrow path between two large table-like boulders and emerged near a feeble spring. A stand of red and black berries provided good pickings. Following the spring, we climbed a boulder and stepped behind a sharp escarpment. A dark crack hidden behind the rock led to a cool cavern.

  I froze at the entrance. The odor of a recently quenched campfire warned me to tread carefully. Tora stepped in without hesitation and waved me into the cave. She dropped her basket and took the rolled blanket from my shoulder.

  “Someone’s been here,” I whispered.

  “Relax. It’s a private place. Not many people know of it. An earthquake shifted those two tables of stone together since I was a girl.” She sat on the blanket and leaned against the cool wall. “I wish I had been here when the Philistines came that day.”

  I squeezed her hand. “I, too, have so many regrets.”

  “But I’ve never regretted Ittai,” she said.

  I closed my eyes and leaned against her. “Me neither.”

  A footstep thumped. My head jerked and hit a jutting rock. The shadow of a large man obscured the cave entrance. Tora had dozed off. I backed slowly into the darkness, afraid to rouse her and draw attention. My stomach tightened.

  The man drew a sword. Measured steps hesitated outside the cave.

  Tora snorted in her sleep and woke. “Ittai?”

  The man dropped over her. “Mother, did you bring her?”
/>   “Ittai,” I cried.

  “Michal, mine.” His deep voice echoed in the cavern.

  Chapter 48

  2nd Samuel 21:1 Then there was a famine in the days of David three years, year after year; and David enquired of the LORD.

  >>><<<

  David sorted through Abigail’s belongings. These days, he found solace sitting in her room. He picked up a scarf and smiled. Abigail’s embroidery was detailed and delicate, each stitch a stroke of a pen, a swish of a brush. She had stitched many of the hangings, table clothes, and altar pieces that would serve at the Temple.

  He opened a moss green purse with fall leaves, red, orange, and yellow—fluttering and twirling in a light blue and silver breeze. He drew out a rolled parchment. His heart stuttered. A love note? But from who, her first husband? He was a churl, cruel and hateful. But maybe at the beginning they had loved each other.

  He shouldn’t read it. Yet, his hands shook as he untied the strings and unfurled the note. Michal’s script jumped off the page.

  My dearest David, I have borne you two sons. We are living at Adriel’s house in Abel-Meholah. Adriel and Merab have passed away. I have adopted their sons. It is dangerous here with many bandits. If you could spare a guard, please send for us. Phalti is with me, but only as a friend. Please consider taking all of us under your protection. Your loving wife, Michal.

  Tears seeped into his eyes. Joshua and Beraiah were his sons. Ittai claimed they hadn’t joined the rebellion, but their names were listed on Sheba’s roster. And Michal. He’d check with his spies and ensure she still lived in Gibeah with Ittai’s mother, a strict follower of the Law.

  “David?” A pair of female hands rubbed his neck.

  Ahinoam bent and kissed him. “I miss her, too.”

  She picked up the purse and examined the fine stitching.

  “She’s at a better place now. No tears, no sorrow, no loss.” He held Ahinoam’s hand and squeezed it. “When will you make a decision to trust in the LORD God?”

  Ahinoam lowered her face. “How can I trust him when he’s taken all my children? All I have left are those jars.”

  “He blessed you with Sarah. She’s marrying, isn’t she?” He hugged her. “You will become a grandmother. I know it. And many little hands will hold yours, little mouths will kiss you, and little feet will follow you.”

  “Oh, David. You are the best husband any woman could have asked for. You saved me from the Amalekites, and you saved Sarah from the hands of your own men.”

  “My wife of the wilderness.” He kissed her as a squawk deafened his ear.

  “Buzzi, you bad bird,” Abital’s lilting voice called.

  Buzzi lighted on David’s shoulder and crooned in his ear. “I love you, David.”

  Both Abital and Ahinoam laughed as David swept the bird away.

  * * *

  I ran toward Ittai and jumped up and down while hugging him.

  His laughter bounced off the walls of the cavern. He stepped back and pulled me to the entrance, into the sunlight. “You didn’t think I’d actually obey David to the letter, did you?”

  “Tora said the consequences are dire. He’d string you on a tree and have the birds pluck your eyes.”

  His eyes twinkling, he grinned sidelong. “He only said to ignore his queen, and you, my darling, are no longer the queen. As long as I do as he says, go where he sends me, and serve him faithfully, he will do me no harm.”

  “Will he try to capture me?”

  Ittai shook his head, his eyes moist. “He made an edict. No one in his kingdom is to mention your name. No, I wouldn’t worry about him. Would it hurt you to know he no longer cares?”

  I gripped his biceps and drew strength and fortitude from him. “It hurts, but in some ways it makes it easier. Easier to love you, Ittai.”

  “Oh, dear Michal.” He moved to kiss me. All the tension of the last few months melted as our lips touched. For once, I could let my guilt fly and love this stalwart man, my closest friend, as he deserved.

  A woman’s laughter, like tinkling bells, startled me. Ittai wiped his lips and turned to the boulder cleft. A young woman appeared, her hair glinting in the breeze. Her gown, a translucent pearl, was beaded with silver and turquoise tube beads. A cloak of brilliant colors embroidered with Philistine sea shapes angled over her shoulder.

  Ittai cleared his throat. “Michal, do you remember Zina?”

  She held her hands out, and I grasped them. “Oh, you’re all grown. Where’s your mother?” Our mother, Jada.

  “She’s waiting for me to give her the signal.” Zina smiled. “Ittai didn’t tell you, did he?”

  Ittai shuffled and drew his hand into his robe as Zina took hold of his arm. Perspiration dampened his forehead, and he coughed. His gaze flitted to the cavern.

  “Tell me what?” I didn’t like the look Zina gave me, too smug and knowing.

  “Mother,” he called. “They’re here.”

  Tora walked out, her knees popping. “Oh, I’m stiff.”

  She prodded me toward the cave. Ittai hurriedly wiped his brow and glanced in the direction of the spring.

  Tora patted my hands. “I guess it’s time.”

  “For what?” I said.

  “The switch.” She grabbed a skin of water. “I’ll find Ittai. You two make yourselves comfortable.”

  Zina stepped into the cave and looked around, as if checking for spiders. “I’m sure we weren’t followed, but Ittai seems worried.”

  “Why?”

  “The king has spies. Now, take off your clothes and give them to me. I’ll wear your clothes and go back to Gibeah with Tora.”

  She handed me her cloak, and her gown slipped off. With fumbling hands, I removed my clothing. “This doesn’t seem to be a fair trade. My clothes are plain, and yours are exquisite.”

  “Consider these a gift from Mother. Now, your cloak.”

  I hesitated. My cloak, David’s dark green cloak was the only item I had that linked me to him, not counting the jewelry. Tears stung my eyes as I rubbed my face on it before handing it to her.

  Zina flung it over her shoulders and hurried out of the cave. I followed her into the sunlight. The gown flowed like liquid moonlight overlaid with twinkling stars.

  Ittai sat on a rock. His eyes widened. He dropped to his knees and grabbed my hands, kissing them.

  “Marry me, Michal, daughter of Saul. Join your life to mine.”

  The earth shook my legs from under me. I gulped and leaned on his shoulders. High above, a lone hawk circled, dipped his wings and caught the updraft. He screeched and a second hawk joined him. The sun glared in my eyes as they disappeared.

  Ittai buried his face in my chest. His shoulders tensed.

  My heart swelled with affection. I hugged his head and stroked his hair. I wondered at the legality, but pushed it aside as he trembled for an answer. I lifted his face and stared into his deep, lustrous eyes. “Yes, I’ll marry you, my love, my Ittai, my prince.”

  He handed me a necklace, garnet drops on a golden chain. “With my blood, I thee wed.”

  “Wait, wait!” A melodious voice cascaded over the boulder.

  Jada streamed toward me, slightly out of breath. “My daughter.”

  I fell into her arms. “Mother, oh, I missed you. Why did you leave?”

  “Let’s not ruin the occasion and speak about it. I’ll tell you later.” She tapped Ittai’s chest. “And you, impudent fellow, have not asked me for her hand.”

  Ittai coughed and blushed, his bronze skin darkening. “I thought… may I marry your daughter?”

  Jada pretended to ignore him. She straightened my gown, picked a twig and a few burrs off the hem and brushed the beads to lie straight. “I wish I had time to do your hair. Ah, I see a few silver strands, not many though. Your father never greyed. Virile fellow.”

  She fluttered over me while Ittai shifted his weight from one leg to the other.

  “Mother, you haven’t answered him,” I whispered.


  Zina giggled, and Tora shuffled with her walking stick. “I’ll cane you, boy. What were you going to do? Abscond with your bride before the wedding?”

  Ittai rocked on his heels and finally tore off into the bushes. Everyone laughed.

  “I guess he did have to go.” Tora chuckled. “Now,” she said to me, “I’m going to miss you, darling. Take good care of my son.”

  “I will, dear Tora. He’s precious to me.” We kissed each other on both cheeks.

  Jada clutched my shoulders and stared at me. “Promise me you’ll be good to him. He’s a good man. Loyal, kind, and generous.”

  Tears blurred my vision, and I hugged her. “I will cherish him.”

  Zina returned with Ittai. “Mother, he’s back. Can we proceed?”

  Ittai knelt at Jada’s feet. “Honored Priestess. Bless me, I pray and allow me to take your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

  Jada put her hands inside her sleeves and pulled out two serpents. I gasped and stepped back. Tora clutched my sleeve and shuddered.

  Jada waved the serpents’ heads in front of Ittai’s eyes. Their forked tongues flitted and touched his eyelids. “They have determined you are sincere. You may marry my daughter.”

  She motioned for me to stand next to Ittai and threw off her full-length cloak to Zina. She wore nothing above her waist but a jeweled scapular laced with snakeskin. The twin snakes curled around her wrists. Below her hennaed breasts, a wide leopard skin belt held up an elaborately embroidered double apron shaped like a double-sided axe, one head in front and the other in back. A colorful, tiered bell-shaped skirt flounced underneath, each layer woven with either a checked pattern, interlocking spirals of stylized flowers or leaves, or intricate mazes. Golden anklets tinkled over her hennaed feet.

  Jada snapped her fingers. “Will you two quit staring and join your hands?”

  Ittai’s throat wobbled, and he took my right hand with his. Jada grasped our joined hands and set the two snakes around our wrists. They wrapped their tails and necks to each other, locking us together. My hand shook at the slithering sensation, but Ittai squeezed and held me firmly, reassuring me with his strength.

  As dashingly handsome as the day I met him, his grin still disarmed me. I hadn’t noticed the fine lines of amusement radiating from the corners of his eyes. And his hawk-like nose only strengthened his face—a man of distinction and character—a man I had always loved.