Michal's Window

by Ayala, Rachelle

  “No, I hate you with a perfect hatred, and I count you my enemy.” A cold frost descended on me, drawing a net from my head to my toe, crystallizing my hair, my face, my skin, freezing me to the core of my soul. “There is nothing you can do for me. Leave me alone.”

  * * *

  My cell had a tiny window too high to reach. No beams with which to fasten a noose. A solitary guard pushed in a platter of food and changed the pot. I banged on the walls. Silence. I screamed and yelled at the guard. I taunted him, called his mother all sorts of names. I even smashed the chamber pot. All he did was open the door, sweep up the shards and replace it with a brass one. He did not hear me clap my hands behind him—a deaf-mute. I retreated into waking dreams.

  I’m in a sepulcher. A dark, dank sepulcher. My family surrounds me. See, there’s Merab and Mother. Father and Jonathan playing a game of bones. And my babies are alive. Samuel and Ithream. And my boys, all handsome and tall, sit at the table for the New Moon Feast. And Tora is pretty again. The sepulcher is lit with a thousand lamps, and we sing, and we’re together, together, together, forever. No David to ruin everything.

  The guard splashed water on my face. He’d left a filled tub. It was not deep enough to drown me. My family leaves. I wash and scrub and clean. Oh, who can wash away my sins? Who can take them under His blood? My sins are always before me. They have separated me from my David, my husband, my love. And Ittai, do you hate me? Please don’t hate me. I used you, but don’t hate me. I recite David’s psalms. I recite and recite and recite. But David does not come, neither does Ittai.

  And I dream of David, and in my dreams he loves me, and we ride on flying horses and walk on clouds across a golden staircase. We sing like children and splash in pools of silver. He pulls me to the top of a rainbow. And he loves me. I open my eyes.

  The cell remained empty.

  I broke a bowl and kept a shard in my pocket and slept with it under my pillow. My friend. I named her Tora. And I talked to Tora. I kissed her and told her how sorry I was. And Tora always forgave me. Tora told me to seek David’s forgiveness. I had sinned against him. Tora told me her son loved me and would always love me. Tora asked me to tell Ittai about God. I promised Tora I would and asked her to find Ittai and send him to me. Tora said he would come. Tora loved me. Tora understood. I love you, Tora. I kissed the shard and tucked her under my pillow.

  * * *

  David slipped down the stairs underneath his tower. The Jebusites had kept prisoners below, but he had never used this particular section before. The thought of human beings living beneath his bedchamber disturbed him. He slid silently to the door. She talked to Tora, but her diction had become slurred. She wanted Tora’s forgiveness and love. She cried for Ittai, and she never asked for David.

  David hated himself for his insane jealousy. He hated that Ittai’s mother, a God fearing woman, had to die for Michal’s mistakes. When Ittai asked to be set free from his vow, he let him go. Ittai wandered off, a vagabond. No sons, no wife, no mother. David didn’t hate Ittai. He rather liked the man. Too bad he loved David’s wife.

  David held onto his anger as a talisman. Anger covered doubt. Anger drove away niggling thoughts of inadequacy. Anger was his triumph and meant he was right. How dare she love another man? How dare she blame him for hanging his sons? How dare she forget that he, the king, was her rightful husband? Despite proclaiming Ittai a hero for finding his wife, David knew the truth. They had secretly married and mocked him for three years. How they must have laughed at him, scorned him, disdained him.

  Every night he lay on the hard, dusty floor, listening, and his heart yearned for her, and he grew concerned for her. Oh, he’d let her out, or he’d go in. He would, if he could. He scraped his fingers over the cold stones. He reached for the door, grasping to be let in, begging to be let in, desperately needing to be let in. But she counted him an enemy.

  His hands balled into fists. She would not get the better of him. No, not David, the great king, David, God’s anointed, David… the servant boy. David hung his head. Who was he fooling? Underneath his golden crown, beneath his kingly robes… he was just David, the servant… the boy who wanted to do better. But had he done right by her?

  A voice—a still, small voice—told him he had been wrong, so utterly wrong. He saw her tender little girl’s heart, so freely given to him. She had looked up to him, a man of God, the LORD’s anointed. And what had he done? Hurt her, trampled her feelings and forced her to fit a mold, to play a role, fulfill a dream that existed only in his mind. She deserved another chance and a husband who’d love her and cherish her. If only he could have been that man.

  A pulsating web of pain expanded and contracted in his heart. He loved her more than he knew what to do. Michal, let me in. Let me into your heart. Michal, I’ll bring you peace. Peace in Israel. Just call on me. Call my name.

  * * *

  A masked man followed the prison guard. The guard balanced the food with one hand while he opened door at the base of the tower. The man struck the guard. The bowls broke on the stone floor. He bound the guard and gagged him.

  Ittai took an oil lamp and descended the steps noiselessly. A warren of cells opened in front of him. Cobwebs hung amongst the dank stones. Several corridors opened in different directions. Which way? The dust was disturbed on one of the corridors. Ittai followed the trail and came to a closed door. He set the lamp down and tapped at the door.

  A woman moaned and sobbed, speaking to another one. He stepped back. Perhaps he had taken a wrong turn. He listened.

  “Are you sure he’ll come?”

  “Yes, Ittai loves you, he’ll forgive you.”

  “Will he? Why hasn’t he come yet?”

  “Maybe tomorrow. Maybe he’ll remember.”

  “I can’t wait any longer. Dear God, let me speak to Ittai before I die.”

  Ittai pushed the trapdoor open, before noticing the simple bar on the door. He pulled the bar aside and let himself in.

  Michal sat on the solitary bed rocking herself with her hands around her knees. Ittai pulled her into his arms. She smelled like dirty laundry and accumulated sweat.

  “Michal, mine.”

  “Tora said you’d come.” She picked up a pottery shard and kissed it. “Tora, I love you, Tora.”

  Ittai hugged her. David had exiled him, so he hid during the day and paid travelers to send the king letters. After months of excavation, he had finally completed the tunnel under the palace wall in the women’s compound and into the stone grotto where David’s infants used to be interred.

  “Michal, I love you.” He kissed her.

  “I need to tell you about the LORD. Tora said—”

  He pressed a finger to her lips. “Later. We have to get out of here.”

  He yanked her to her feet. She wobbled, barely able to walk. He pulled her over his shoulder, latched the door, and retraced his steps.

  The guard was still unconscious, so Ittai untied his hands and feet. He placed the lamp at his side and closed the door behind him. With Michal on his shoulder, he skirted the edges of the palace and trekked to the back of the women’s courtyard and through the stone grotto.

  “Can you crawl?” He pushed her through the tunnel, and they emerged behind an abandoned cistern. Jackals yipped in the night, and an owl’s silent wings floated by. Ittai hoisted Michal onto his horse and walked the horse to the gate. A hefty bribe later, they rode west toward Philistia.

  * * *

  David opened the dungeon door and stumbled on a body. The man grunted. He kicked the broken bowls. The deaf-mute guard snored and turned on his side.

  He ran down the corridor, careful not to spill oil on his feet. The door swung open. Empty. His pulse thundered erratically. He tore out of the dungeon and saddled his horse.

  Chapter 51

  Hosea 2:20 I will even betroth thee unto me in faithfulness: and thou shalt know the LORD.

  >>><<<

  We arrived at Jada’s house just after midnight. Water was
still precious, but Jada brought a basin and washed me from head to toe. Her loving touch revived me, but she insisted I sleep.

  “I’ve been doing nothing but sleeping in the cell. How long was I there?”

  “Five months. Ittai worked on the tunnel for three months. The first two months he mourned, of course. He was devastated, but he doesn’t blame you.”

  “Where is he now?”

  She put a finger to her lip. “He’s sleeping in the front room.”

  “Does he think I’ve gone back to David?”

  Jada twisted her lip. “Everyone knows the king gets what he wants. When your father wanted me, he locked your mother in her room. When he wanted me to leave, he threw me out. He took your mother from a man who loved her. Perhaps you were not aware.”

  I chewed on a crust of bread. “No. I only know my mother was unhappy. She tried to cover it with clothes and jewelry, but nothing makes up for the emptiness.”

  “No, nothing will.” She put oil in my hair. “But Asherah has shined her face on you. You have Ittai.”

  Warmth stirred in my chest. “Did you know I made a wish with Ittai long ago on the wishing tree?”

  Jada chuckled. “Ah, yes, the wishing tree. It’s not far from here. I made a wish there when I was a girl.”

  “What did you wish for?”

  “I was not careful,” she said. “The tree takes you literally. I asked for a man to love me. I should have prepared a detailed list of conditions—no kings and no heroes. And I should have said no other wives, women, concubines, boys, men, animals, creatures, gods and goddesses. So beware of that tree. You get a single wish. What did you wish for?”

  “It hasn’t come true yet. Besides I’ve lost the leaf.”

  Jada flicked a loose thread off the new gown she made for me. “Perhaps it has. You just don’t know about it.” She went to her wardrobe and opened a box. “You left it at my house that day I prepared you for the rug. What did you wish for?”

  Ittai stuck his head through the door. “She won’t tell.”

  I flew to his wide grin like a moth to a lamp and kissed him.

  He sniffed me exaggeratedly. “You were quite a stinker when I brought you in. Now what did you want to talk to me about?”

  Jada stood to leave, but I held onto her fingers. “Stay. I’ve lost so much time with you two.”

  She fluffed a pillow and handled me a few grains of parched corn.

  Ittai arranged the blankets and pulled me between his legs, hugging me from behind. “If you don’t start talking, I’m going to send your mother away and do my kind of talking.”

  I traced the veins on the back of his hands. “I’m very sorry about Tora.” A lump rose in the back of my throat. “I lost control. And she paid with her life.”

  “I don’t blame you. I’m the one at fault. I should have held onto you when David approached the platform to speak. Instead I was angry because he took you from me.”

  I rubbed his knuckles. “Don’t blame yourself.”

  He kissed the back of my neck. “Then you should also stop blaming yourself.”

  “While I lay in that cell, my worst thought was being away from you.”

  “We’re together now.”

  “Yes, but not always. Remember Delilah? And Samson?”

  Jada coughed and fanned herself.

  I took another sip of wine to wet my throat. “Delilah cries because she is lost in the world below. Samson has gone to God, to paradise, the home for the redeemed. They are apart not just today, but tomorrow and tomorrow, forever and ever.”

  Ittai traced the tear that slid down my cheek. “Will I see my mother again? What is paradise, this home for the redeemed? She always talked about it.”

  “Did she tell you how to get there?”

  “She said I could not find it myself—that I must trust the God of Israel to take me.”

  “Have you trusted Him?”

  “Have you?”

  I kissed his cheek. “I have. I believe He would forgive my sins if I would ask Him to. I believe what He told Moses and the Prophets. And I believe He will send a Redeemer to take our sins away. David told me in his psalms.”

  “Why would He just forgive us if we ask?”

  “He forgives sin because of His great mercy, because He loves us.” I jabbed him in the ribs for emphasis.

  Ittai rubbed his chin. “Do you have to promise not to ever sin again?”

  “You’d be lying if you promised, and lying is also a sin. God does judge sin, so we must take care for our own good to avoid it.” I sounded so much like Abigail.

  “So how do I ask?”

  “Do you believe His promises? Trust in God only, and not in man?”

  “You sound like my mother. I wanted to believe, but I wanted you more. I wanted to have you for my wife.”

  Jada yawned loudly. “All this talk about sin is making me sick. Who can dictate where the heart goes? If you two love each other, there is no sin.”

  I took a deep breath. “God set up marriage between one man and one woman. He made Adam first, and then Eve to be a helper for Adam. Rules against adultery help to keep the husband to his own wife and the wife to her own husband.”

  Jada slapped the couch. “David took other wives. What were you going to do?”

  “I should have lived as a widow.”

  “Your God winks at men who take multiple wives, but a woman is stoned for adultery.” Jada stood and dusted the breadcrumbs off her gown. “I’m sorry, you two continue with your googly-talk. I’m going out for some fresh air.”

  As soon as Jada exited, Ittai kissed my neck. “I want you so badly. Think she’ll be back anytime soon?”

  His hands moved to my breasts, eliciting a bloom of tingles. His heated lips sighed against mine as he lowered me to the lambskin bedding.

  “Mmm…” I struggled to retain consciousness. “Let me finish…

  “You can talk after I’m finished with you.” He trailed kisses to my breasts.

  “Stop. I need to tell you about sin.” I squirmed from beneath him. “It’s too important. Tora made me promise. Do you want God to save you from your sins?”

  “I can’t stop sinning. I love you too much.” He reached for me.

  “I love you, too.” I backed away. “No one can stop sinning. Not even David. And he trusts God and believes His Word.”

  Ittai chuckled and slapped his thigh. “Especially David. He is sin in a bucket. Is he a hypocrite?”

  “No, he’s only a man. Even a man after God’s own heart sins. It’s our weakness, and God does not wink at it, but He forgives. And He judges you whether you believe Him or not.”

  “Come here.” Ittai pulled me into his lap. “I want God’s forgiveness, but I want you too. It is a sin, isn’t it, for us to be together?”

  I bent my head. “Yes, it is.”

  Ittai’s eternal soul hung at the tip of a sharp two-edged sword. I closed my eyes and prayed silently.

  He shifted beneath me and rubbed his calf. I scooted to his side, afraid to prod him, afraid of an interruption, afraid he’d reject my message.

  He twirled my hair. “Well, if that rascal David can be forgiven, I suppose I have nothing to lose by asking. I do believe God means well for us, and He makes the rules. I’m just a dirty Philistine. Will He save me also?”

  I clasped Ittai’s big hands. “Yes. Yes. Believe and ask God to save you. Tell Him you’re a sinner, but you’re trusting only in Him to save you and forgive your sins. Will you do that now?”

  He lowered his head. “I will. Mighty God of Israel, can you look on me, a sinner, and forgive my sins? Please save me and take me as your servant. I forsake all other gods and trust only in You, LORD God of Israel, to be my God forever.”

  I hugged him. “You did it.”

  The shadow across his brow cleared, and his entire face brightened. “Thank you, Michal. Thank you for telling me.”

  “I’m so happy for you.” I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand.
>
  Tears dripped down his cheek, and his grin split his face. “Your God is my God.”

  Humbled and awed, I thanked my God for saving Ittai, my Gittite. “Yes, and we’ll be friends forever, even after we die, and you’ll see Tora again. Tora will be so glad.”

  “Yes, but…” He cupped my face. “I sinned tonight by stealing you away from the king.”

  “He had me in the dungeon. You didn’t exactly steal me. You rescued me from that monster.”

  “But he’s your rightful husband. And even if he treats you badly, you said you should live as a widow. Maybe that’s why he threw you in the dungeon.”

  Tears threatened. “That’s what Tora said to me while I was in there. She said I had not reverenced him and been the wife he should have had. I broke my promises too. I’ve betrayed him, and I deserve to die.”

  “But you said God forgave your sins.” His voice was comforting.

  “He has, but I must make amends. Everything is my fault. Tora said I should—”

  “Stop blaming yourself.” He pulled me into his warm chest.

  “I agree. It’s time to stop the blame.” David stepped in, his crown in his hands.

  Ittai and I jumped apart. I clutched my robe, my knees weak.

  David placed his crown on the table and opened his arms. “Come to me.”

  He looked grim and tired. I hesitated.

  Ittai gave me a gentle push. “Go to him, Michal. Obey your lord.”

  David stepped forward. He stared into my eyes for a long moment, his gaze solemn and defeated. “I’m going to take you home and treat you well. I promise.”

  My lips trembled but I took his hand. Ittai stood at the doorway as we walked out of the house. I crushed the terebinth leaf and blew the pieces into the wind.

  * * *

  David’s heart burned. He had heard everything they said about him. But he had also prayed for Ittai’s soul. And he rejoiced when Ittai received the LORD God of Israel. But Michal had called him a monster, and that hurt.

  He adjusted Michal across his horse. She sat as if he were a stranger. He wanted her to lean her head on his chest, as she did on Ittai’s. He wanted that easy familiarity she had with him, how she laughed and her voice inflected and trilled. She had sounded so happy and carefree. And most of all, he wanted to be her friend, the way he had been when they were first married.