Michal (40 page)

A trumpet sounded, jolting her attention. All eyes traveled to the door of the banquet hall, where David followed the trumpeter, flag bearers, and armed guards to the place reserved for him.

Michal watched the fanfare with interest. Would he speak to her here? Would he single her out and place her at his side as queen? The thought sent tingling warmth through her. After all, he had spent the afternoon with her despite other obvious demands on his time. And he’d prepared her apartment to match their first home together. Surely he loved her better than these other young beauties.

As David leaned back on the ornate couch, the servants began offering silver trays of roasted lamb, purple grapes, pistachios, almonds, dates, and figs first to the king, then to the men seated with him at his table. A short, thin servant in a white tunic lowered a wineskin toward Michal’s carved chalice before moving down the line to fill each cup belonging to David’s wives. The women began placing food on the plates of their children, chattering again among themselves. Michal’s stomach turned over. How was she ever going to survive in a harem where she wasn’t wanted—perhaps was even hated? At least with Paltiel her home had been her own.

She studied the delicacy-laden silver plate overflowing with some of her favorite foods. Had David ordered them prepared in her honor? She cast a discreet glance at him again, but he was preoccupied, talking with a man she didn’t recognize seated at his side.

She slowly chewed on a grape. The children reminded her of Jacob and Joel. An ache lodged in her heart at every childish word spoken.

Oh, David, why did you bring me back?

The intense temptation to run from the hall all the way back to Mahanaim nearly choked her. The action would surely not endear her to David.

“We’ve just got to get David to take us back to En Gedi. Don’t you think so, Abigail?”

Michal leaned forward on pretense of reaching for a raisin cake, listening.

“I would love to go back there, Ahinoam.” The woman called Abigail cut a piece of meat for a frail-looking child. “The waters might do Chileab a world of good.” She lifted dark lashes to glance at Ahinoam, and as she did, Michal caught her look of interest.

Michal averted her gaze. En Gedi was a beautiful garden atmosphere with thirst-quenching waterfalls and a pool as clear as polished stones. She’d gone there once as a child. Never with David, as these women obviously had done.

The sound of running feet across the tile floor pulled Michal’s attention away from David’s wives. A young man dressed in military garb flung himself at David’s feet, panting.

“May my lord, King David, live forever!”

David sat straighter and nodded at the messenger. “Speak.”

The boy leaned back on his heels. “My lord, I bring news. Bad news, I’m afraid.”

David clasped his hands in front of him. “Go on.”

“Joab, the king’s nephew and commander, and his brother Abishai have killed Abner, son of Ner, general of Israel’s army.”

Michal’s heart plummeted. Fear dried her throat, and her clammy hands began to shake. Abner was dead? Abner controlled most of Israel. Abner represented her father’s last ruling power in the land. More than this, Abner was her cousin—one more loss in her family. Michal swallowed a remnant of grape skin still on her tongue, nearly choking on the ripe fruit. How many more members of her family would die in this constant vying for power?

“How did this happen?” She heard David’s stricken voice and twisted in her seat for a better view of him.

“Joab sent word to Abner to return to Hebron. They met at the gate, where Joab pulled him aside to speak with him privately. Only instead of talking, Joab stabbed him in the stomach to avenge the death of his brother Asahel.” The boy’s words came out in a rush, as though he couldn’t say them fast enough.

Michal’s gaze moved from the messenger to David. His complexion had paled, and he rose slowly to his feet. “Where is Joab now?”

“He is still at the gate, my lord, with his brother Abishai. His men are bringing Abner’s body to your courtyard. What would you have us do, my lord?”

David’s color returned in deeper hues, sparks flashing from his dark eyes. “Prepare Abner’s body for burial. And send for Joab and Abishai.” He glanced at the window. “We will summon the townspeople and go first thing in the morning to the burial cave.” He dismissed the messenger with a wave of his hand, then summoned Benaiah with another.

“Yes, my lord.” Benaiah bowed.

“Make sure Joab and Abishai are with us before dawn to join the procession of mourners.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Michal watched Benaiah march across the hall into the courtyard. The once luscious food now looked repulsive. She should follow the man and await Abner’s body in the court, but she couldn’t stomach the thought. Her gaze drifted to David, who was engaged in whispered conversation with the man on his right. His problems would be multiplied now. She stood, catching a glimpse of sympathy on the faces of some of David’s wives. She straightened her shoulders. She didn’t need their pity.

With purpose in her steps, Michal strode across the banquet hall, head high, chin tipped up. Eyes fixed on the door, she walked back to her apartment where she might, if God were gracious, fall into a forgetful sleep.

“Tear your clothes, gird yourselves with sackcloth, and mourn for Abner.” David’s steady voice carried across the court, spilling over the gathered crowd and into the surrounding fields. Michal stood near the bier, staring at the still form of her once vibrant cousin, her hands tucked into the folds of her already torn robe. A trail of ashes created smudge marks along her veil and floated from her hair to the ground.

Hundreds of townspeople lined the court, Joab and Abishai at their head. They should be executed for what they’d done. But Michal knew instinctively David could never order their deaths.

“My kingdom and I are guiltless before the Lord forever of the blood of Abner, son of Ner.” Michal slowly turned at the sound of David’s words. “Let it rest on the head of Joab and on his father’s house, and let there never fail to be in the house of Joab one who has a discharge or is a leper, who leans on a staff or falls by the sword, or who lacks bread.”

Michal caught David’s expression and noted the fierce tone, recognizing his frustration. After a few curt commands from David, Joab and Abishai led the procession to the outskirts of town to a large burial cave. David stepped behind the bier, head bowed, but when the body passed in front of her, David extended his hand and pulled Michal to his side.

His warm fingers wrapped around her palm, making her eyes fill with fresh tears. She could feel his perusal, and as they walked, he whispered in her ear, “I’m so sorry, Michal. This was not my intent.”

“A king can’t always know what his subjects are up to, my lord.” She glanced into his stricken face, stifling the longing to brush the ashes from his cheek.

“Would that he could,” he said softly, squeezing her hand. “Abner deserved better.”

David didn’t know the many unkind things Abner had spoken of him in times past. If he did, he might welcome the loss. But Michal couldn’t tell him. No sense sullying her family’s name.

When they reached the burial cave, David released her hand and raised his arms toward heaven, weeping. Were his tears genuine? But Michal’s own blurred vision kept her from studying her husband’s expression.

“Should Abner die as a fool dies?” David’s voice cut above the scattered wailing. “Your hands were not bound nor your feet put into fetters. As a man falls before wicked men, so you fell.”

It would have been better if Abner had died in battle. At least that would have been honorable. Following David’s example, Michal bent to scoop dirt from the ground and poured it over her veil of sackcloth, letting it mix with her tears. Abner’s men rolled the heavy stone from the cave’s entrance, picked up the bier, and carried Abner’s lifeless body into the tomb. Michal’s shoulders heaved, and she covered her face with her trembling hands. The touch of warm flesh on her arm made her jump, but in an instant she found herself wrapped in David’s strong arms.

“Oh, David! I’ve lost everyone,” she wailed against his sackcloth.

She felt his fingers rub circles along her back. “You’ve got me, beloved.” He kissed her cheek and held her close for a long moment.

She didn’t really have him. Not the way she used to. Not the way she wanted him. But she held her tongue. She allowed him to lead her back to his royal house, where a feast awaited the mourners. David personally seated her and sat beside her in the outer court of his home.

“My lord, the food is waiting. Can I get you something? Some wine perhaps?” a servant asked.

“Yes, my lord. You need your strength,” another said.

A small group gathered around them, holding trays of food and urging David to eat.

David stood, his hands raised, quieting the crowd. “God do so to me, and more also, if I taste bread or anything else until the sun goes down!” He looked at his servants. Michal noticed Joab and Abishai at the edge of the crowd. “Don’t you know that a prince and a great man has fallen this day in Israel? I am weak today, though anointed king, and these men, the sons of Zeruiah, are too harsh for me. The Lord will repay the evildoer according to his wickedness.”

Michal watched admiration light the eyes of the men surrounding them. She glanced at her husband, her own pride swelling at his devotion to her family. If only they could have been together from the start of his reign. If only she had gone with him into exile and stayed forever at his side. She could have influenced David to give someone else control of the army—perhaps even Abner right from the beginning. So much could be different, so much loss avoided.

When he sat beside her again, awaiting the setting sun, she slipped her hand through the crook of his arm. “You will make a good king,” she whispered, leaning toward him.

The smile he gave her melted her heart.

A cacophony of sounds filtered through the open window in David’s private chambers, dragging Michal out of a deep, restful sleep. She stretched her arms overhead, stifling a yawn.

“Finally awake, sleepyhead?” David turned from looking down on his bustling household and walked toward her. “I was just about to dress for court.” He sat beside her and began to trace the outline of her face with his forefinger before bending to kiss her cheek. “Did you sleep well, my love?”

“Better than I have in months.” She pulled one hand from beneath the lamb’s wool covers and touched the fine, curly dark hairs on his arm. “Are you going to announce a queen at your coronation, David? You really should give one of your wives priority over the others, you know. It keeps the bickering to a minimum.”

She watched his eyes twinkle and a smile lift the edges of his wavy brown beard. One strong hand cupped her cheek, making her heart do a little flip.

“You’re jumping ahead of yourself, Michal. I’ve still got to bring all the tribes together under my rule. Abner’s death slowed things down, you know.”

“Yes, but you will be king. You know you will. Surely you’ve begun preparations for your coronation day.” She offered him a demure smile and let her fingers travel along his arm. “As your first wife and daughter of the previous king, I think I’m the most qualified for the job, don’t you, my lord?”

He’d been so kind in the week since Abner’s death, giving her the privileges of first wife and the exclusive right to his time, like she was a newly married bride. It gave her the courage to even pose the question.

His hand covered hers, and he lifted her fingers to his lips. “I’ll give it some thought, my love. In the meantime—”

The sudden knock at the door stopped David’s words. He rose to answer. Michal slid farther beneath the covers.

“My lord,” Benaiah spoke loud enough for Michal to hear, “there are two men come from the court of Ishbosheth to see you. They are waiting in the audience chamber.”

“Thank you, Benaiah, I’ll be right there.” He closed the door behind the retreating guard and retrieved his royal robe from a peg along the far wall.

Michal slipped from under the blanket and snatched her own robe from a chair beside the bed. She must get back to her apartment and change. Perhaps the messengers had come ahead of her brother to lead the tribal elders into an agreement with David. Surely even simple Ishby would see the wisdom in such a move now that Abner was dead. Unless Paltiel tried to convince him otherwise.