Michal's Window

by Ayala, Rachelle

  David’s behavior puzzled me. After he brought me back, he planted me in Abigail’s house without a guard. While we waited for my sons to be arrested, he asked no questions. He acted as if Ittai were his loyal servant. He even rewarded him in court for finding me. Hushai and all his courtiers had clapped and given Ittai a standing ovation. Only I understood the pain and sadness behind Ittai’s downcast eyes as he accepted the reward—the city of Gezer.

  What has happened? Oh, why did my father disregard the LORD and the holy oath? And why now? Oh, God, withdraw your curse from our house. Have we not paid enough? I repent of all my evil, dear LORD, only do not harm my boys, my brothers and my cousins.

  Ittai stepped out of David’s chamber and pulled me aside, away from Arik’s glare. We walked halfway down the stairs. “He’s going to spare both Joshua and Beraiah because they’re his sons.”

  My intense relief was throttled by increasing dread. “But Jonathan’s seed…”

  “He questioned me about the twins, whether I saw you suckle them with my own eyes. Phalti swears on the Holy Scripture he’s not their father.”

  I grabbed his wrist. “We must go back and talk to him.”

  “But, Michal, he spared your sons.”

  My face chilled as if a biting wind had blasted from the north. I headed up the stairs, pushing Ittai aside. “He made an earnest vow with Jonathan. He’ll incur God’s wrath. What do you think this entire affair with the Gibeonites is about? Do you not understand how God holds us to a vow? It would be better to not make a vow than to break it.”

  “Why? Explain.”

  “Later. Right now, help me get past that guard dog.”

  True to form, Arik jutted his jaw and blocked my passage.

  Ittai placed a hand on my shoulder and addressed Arik, “Tell the king his wife wants a word with him.”

  Arik entered the king’s chamber and shut the door firmly behind him. A minute later he stepped out and waved both of us through.

  David looked up from the table. His face ashen, he raked his hair. “Michal, if you’re here to propose yourself as a substitute…”

  I knelt and hugged his knees. “I’m here as the sister of Jonathan, son of Saul.”

  He caressed my hair. “Say on.”

  “My brother loved me and looked after me when I was a young, mischievous girl. He got me into as much trouble as he got me out of. But whatever else he did, my brother was a man who kept his word.”

  David cleared his throat, but I raised my hand to stop him.

  “You and I both know he could have forsaken my father and joined you. Perhaps he would have lived and not died on Mt. Gilboa.” Tears formed and dropped onto David’s robe.

  David sniffed loudly.

  “My brother took an oath of loyalty to my father.” I continued. “The only time he disobeyed my father was when my father ordered him to kill you.”

  David shuddered. “My dear, what are you asking?”

  I crumpled on his knees, my heart radiating pain through my limbs. I was asking for the death of my sons, Joshua and Beraiah. What kind of mother was I? But the consequences would be dire if God was not appeased. Our sin would multiply and overtake the entire nation.

  Ittai interjected. “I also took a vow, a blood oath with Jonathan. I’m here to speak as his brother.”

  David pushed me from his knees. “What has happened to you two?”

  Ittai pounded his own chest. “You took a vow with me, David. If you break the vow with Jonathan, then break ours too. Kill me now, for I deserve to die for what I’ve done to you.”

  He drew his dagger and held the hilt to David.

  I collapsed onto the floor at the edge of my rolled-up rug, unable to speak coherently.

  David paced the room. “Meribbaal has released me from Jonathan’s vow.”

  I grabbed the hem of David’s robe. “Take me instead. I’m Saul’s daughter. Let me bear the sin for him.”

  “You can’t even bear your own sin, Michal. And you’re not a man, you’re not a son.”

  “Oh, David, what choice do you have?” I wet his feet with my tears and brushed my hair over his sandals.

  “Are you asking me to kill my own sons? Your sons?” David lifted me from the ground and stared at me, his left eye twitching, a vein bulging from his temple. “Being my sons meant they are not Saul’s sons.”

  Roiling waves of agony clutched my throat. Memories of Joshua and Beraiah at my breasts fought with those of Jonathan reading the Word of God to me. I stumbled to my table and opened the silver box. “Jonathan’s blood cries from these arrowheads.”

  David gasped and closed the lid with a snap. He rubbed his eyes and whispered, “I will split the decision. Meribbaal dies, and you chose, Joshua or Beraiah.”

  I shook my head, unable to grasp or choose between my precious twins.

  “Speak, woman.”

  “Da…vid.” I wailed and clutched his robe. “Don’t…”

  “You now see how hard it is for me? Do you understand why I cannot sleep? Why I have nightmares? Why I hate myself?” His voice jittered and broke, and he gulped loudly and fell on his couch.

  My breath blew so hard my fingers tingled, and I almost passed out. “Do… what’s right, David, or the famine will continue and many more will die.”

  He pulled me onto his lap. “My love, how can I when it hurts so much?” He tilted my mouth and kissed me. “You must help me. I… cannot… bear it… alone.”

  Ittai backed out of the chamber and shut the door.

  Our kisses became bites. He ripped my gown, and I clawed his chest. Pain, the need for it, to feel it deeply, to dissolve the pain in my heart, numbing pain. His intensity burned, as he drove himself deep. My arms tightened over his shoulders, and I dug my nails into his back, spurring him to batter me harder. Pain, pain, pain, pounding pain, as if we could extinguish all the hurt we dealt, the agony of our existence. His ferocious grunts accompanied my wild cries. Screaming, howling, crying, tearing, ripping, the line between pain and pleasure blurred into a maelstrom of anguish and an avalanche of oblivion.

  We wept and sorrowed and ran out of tears. We lay across from each other, forehead to forehead, nose to nose, fingertip to fingertip. I smoothed an errant lock of silver hair from his brow. “Remember when Abigail kept you from doing wrong?”

  He grimaced. “Yes, how can I forget?”

  “She’s not here now, so I have to be the voice. When the LORD asked my father to complete the job and slaughter every single Amalekite, my father saved one, a single man.”

  “The LORD does not compromise,” he said.

  “No, he doesn’t. He ripped the kingdom and all His blessings away from my father and plagued our house with curses.”

  David gulped. “As long as you won’t hate me, or blame me later. Promise me.”

  My bowels ached, and I shivered with a surge of bile. “I can’t promise you. I’m not that noble.”

  “At least you’re not a liar,” he said.

  I kissed him.

  Part IV

  Chapter 50

  Isaiah 54:6 For the LORD hath called thee as a woman forsaken and grieved in spirit, and a wife of youth, when thou wast refused, saith thy God.

  >>><<<

  The next morning, I rose early and wrapped myself in mourning garments. Ittai accompanied me, Phalti and Rizpah on the four mile trek to Gibeah. David assured me he would arrive before the execution and bless the sons of Saul.

  Seven wooden crosses greeted us at the city gate.

  “Stop, who goes there?” yelled a Gibeonite guard.

  “Where are the prisoners?” Ittai said. “I’ve brought their mothers.”

  “No one can see them.”

  “The king requests you to let their mothers console them.” Ittai produced an official looking parchment which neither of the guards could read.

  They stepped aside to let me and Rizpah pass, but pushed Ittai and Phalti back.

  “Please,” I said, “let the fath
ers give their sons the blessing.”

  The guards looked at one another and said, “Unhand your weapons and put your hands behind you.”

  Ittai dropped his sword and his dagger. Phalti removed the knife from his robe. The guards tied their hands and allowed them through.

  I stepped into a cell. The acrid smell of fear, sweat, and straw hit me as seven pairs of hollow eyes beseeched. I must be strong. They must not fear or see me crack. I’m their mother, their aunt, their sister.

  I dropped to Eliah’s side. Ittai rushed to Beraiah and Joshua and leaned close to both of them. Phalti crouched near Joel and Gaddiel, while Rizpah kissed Armoni and Mephibosheth. My sons scooted around me.

  “Boys,” I said, “do you know the LORD? Have you called on His name to deliver you?”

  “Yes, Mother, remember, when we were little?” Joel said. “We all believed on the LORD. We called on Him to save us.”

  “Let me give my blessings. Joel, you first.” I cupped his face. On his thirteenth birthday, Joel recited the Ten Commandments in front of King David and his priests. He stood straight and tall and received a medal. My heart burst with pride, and I wiped a tear for Merab.

  “Joel, I’ll never forget when Merab and Adriel brought you to my wedding. You were an active baby, your little legs kicking nonstop. You are the strongest of my sons. You helped me with the little ones. You made me proud of you. O LORD God, please be merciful, let him see Your face and take him to Your everlasting home.” I kissed Joel. “I love you, son, remember me when you’re in glory.”

  Gaddiel and I played dueling harps. I led with a lick, and he wove around it. I climbed and pranced up a run of notes, and he leapt off a precipice, tumbling melodic turbulence on the downbeat. I stroked his hair. “My sweet boy, you were always so scared when you were little, but you turned out to be the bravest. You brought such joy to me with your music and your song. O LORD God, take Your son Gaddiel into Your presence and give him a white stone with a new name.” I kissed him. “I love you, son. Keep your chin up until we meet again.”

  I put my arm around Eliah next. Eliah sat on my lap and spit peas in my face, his gapped teeth grinned. I blew bubbles on his chubby tummy. He squealed and slobbered me with a wet kiss. “Let me hold you. You were my most cuddly boy. I used to lie on the bed with you on my belly and we’d nap. You grew into an affectionate and loving man. O LORD God, flood Your loving-kindness on Eliah and hold him in Your lap and comfort him.” I kissed Eliah. “I love you, son, don’t forget to save a big hug for me when I arrive.”

  “Joshua.” I leaned in hugging him. Joshua galloped after Ittai, his black hair streaming. Ittai turned and charged and hit him with a blunt spear. Joshua’s horse did not slow. He swung to the side of the horse, gripping onto its mane and tripped Ittai’s horse. “My rambunctious boy, full of life, full of mischief. You were always playful, never shy, and whenever there was any trouble, you were sure to find it. O LORD God, grant Joshua the peace that passes all understanding and let him eat of the hidden manna.” I kissed Joshua, holding him tightly. “I love you, son. Let me ride with you when I see you again.”

  I held Beraiah’s head to my breast. I wiped Merab’s blood off Beraiah’s still face. I breathed into his mouth the breath of life. Beraiah opened his eyes and became my son. “Beraiah, you were a fighter from your mother’s womb. I loved you the moment you were born. You healed my broken heart. Beraiah, out of calamity came blessed joy. And you are a joy, so very sweet.” I kissed him. “O LORD God, take special care of Beraiah, give him the morning star to light his way. My son, hold a special room in your mansion for me.”

  They crowded around me, their bodies pressed against mine, their warmth enveloped me, our tears mingled with the dry dust of the ground. I cried, “Oh, God, let this be my sepulcher. Let me lie here with them. Oh, God, let the daughter of Saul pay. Oh, God, where is Your Redeemer? Where, where, where is Your Redeemer?”

  David entered with a loud cry. He went around the room. He talked to them, consoled them and gave his blessing to all seven sons of Saul. But the two he hugged and cried over the longest were Joshua and Beraiah.

  * * *

  The guards led my sons out to the river to wash their faces. They set food in front of them. A crowd gathered around, some with stricken faces, most in gleeful anticipation. A slight commotion amongst the guards drew my attention. Anna, my daughters-in-law, Phalti and Rizpah’s other children, and the wives of Rizpah’s sons stepped forward in a group.

  David motioned to the guards. “Let the men have some private time with their wives, brothers and sisters.”

  Joshua kissed his wife, Rachel, and held her swollen belly. Beraiah hugged me and Anna. The sound of sobs and last minute pleas surrounded me with unbearable pain.

  “Mother, remember the last New Moon’s Feast when we were all together?” Beraiah’s thatch of hair, rusted iron-grey, glinted in the morning sun.

  I held his head and tickled the patch of freckles over his fine-boned face. “Yes, we were all together then, as now. Oh, God. How can I bear this? I love you so much.”

  Honey-amber eyes, so much like David’s beseeched me. “Don’t cry, Mother. Today I’m going to God. It’ll be my birthday up there. I’ll see Ithream again.”

  And I held him, remembering the night when he first blinked at me, torn from the bloody womb of my sister. Joshua swung his arm around me, and I hugged them both, my twin boys. What was left of my heart crumbled and dissolved into a brackish, stagnant pool. The guards motioned me back, but I could not loosen my grip. David and Ittai gently pried my arms open, and the guards took my boys to the crosses waiting for them, their faces covered by black hoods.

  “You don’t have to watch,” Ittai whispered as he held me in his arms.

  “I have to. My sons, oh, my sons.” I could not catch my breath. Next to us, Phaltiel and Rizpah stood together, weeping.

  David took me from Ittai’s warm chest and gripped my stiff shoulders. I bit the inside of my cheeks and stared at my sons through blurry eyes. One by one, they were lifted to the top of the cross, the rope secured to their necks, and dropped. Each jerk ripped a piece from my heart. Each spasm wrenched my stomach. And as they went limp and their spirits ascended to God, my soul dug deeper to the depths of hell.

  David walked to the front of the platform and cleared his throat. “There are times when a few must die for the many.”

  How could he speak at a time like this? Platitudes, political platitudes.

  “There are times when the iniquities of the father are visited onto the children, to the third and fourth generation.”

  What a miserable excuse, David. What about your iniquities?

  “Armoni, Mephibosheth, Joel, Gaddiel, Eliah, Joshua, and Beraiah, your deaths are not in vain.”

  Hypocrite. They are dead already. They can’t hear you.

  I yanked my sandal and threw it at David. It hit him on the forehead.

  “Liar. They should not have died so needlessly.” I rushed the platform and threw my other sandal. David stared at me as it struck his face.

  A shout. Somebody grabbed me and pushed, followed by a swish of a sword. I hit my head, and the crowd screamed. A warm wet liquid soaked my chest, and I saw black.

  * * *

  Rizpah sat with me inside the dank cell. Her eyes were swollen and bloodshot.

  I rubbed my aching head. My robe was soaked crimson.

  “What happened?” I patted myself to check for wounds.

  Rizpah handed me a cup of water. “It’s not your blood.”

  I stared at her, the blood draining my head. “Whose?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Ittai?”

  She shook her head. “Ittai’s mother. She’s dead.”

  My shrieks echoed in the small cell. I pounded my head against the wall, scratched myself, and tore my hair. Several hands pushed a vile, bitter liquid into my mouth. I choked and grabbed at them, but they tied my hands.

  * * *

&nb
sp; Time stood still. I floated into a world so awful, so desolate, that hell itself seemed like paradise. Voices, faces, fire, pain. Ittai, my love. Don’t hate me. Ittai’s scowl grew larger and larger. His eyes darkened and he snarled. ‘I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.’

  I burned hot and cold, my mouth dry and soggy, my nose swollen and pinched. My head blew bigger than a melon, and my heart crushed flat in a winepress.

  My hands were tied, wrapped around with linen cloth. Darkness surrounded me. I lay in a sepulcher. The door opened, and someone lit a lamp. I squinted, unable to focus. My hands were freed. A distorted face hovered over me. Am I not dead? Why?

  David waved a palm over my face. “Can you hear me?”

  I nodded.

  He held a wineskin to my lips. “Drink. Go ahead. It’s my best wine.”

  My throat burned when I swallowed. My stomach clenched, and I blew my breath to keep from throwing up. David wiped my forehead with a wet cloth.

  “Wh-where am I?”

  “You’re in my dungeon. Attacking the king calls for death. The people almost strung your daughter up a tree in mistaken identity, but I rescued her.”

  My heart shuddered. “Where is she?”

  “Safe. I’ve a triple guard at her house. Be glad I pardoned you. You only have to serve a six month sentence for appearance’s sake.”

  “Where’s Ittai?”

  David patted my shoulder. “He’ll never want to see you again. His mother took the sword meant for you.” He leaned to embrace me.

  I slapped him. “You hateful, smug, prideful, vile rogue. You had my sons killed because you didn’t know the Law. Have the rains fallen? Or is the land just as dry and barren as ever.”

  David winced. “No, the rains have not fallen. Perhaps there is still a member of the house of Saul who has not learned her lesson.” He stood to leave. “Is there anything you want from me? Anything I can do for you?”