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Authors: India Edghill

BOOK: Queenmaker
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Of course Nathan came to me. Well, to hear a summons from the queen, who never summoned him? Any man would answer, in such a case; a man smarting from the king’s dismissal would answer twice as quickly.
Nathan found me sitting by the fountain in my garden; I rose and knelt before him and begged for his blessing.
“Does the queen think an old man’s blessing still has any worth?”
“Age brings wisdom. Give me your blessing, Nathan, and I will tell you why I asked you to come to me.”
So he laid his hands upon my head and spoke the words. I do not know if his blessing aided me, but Nathan felt the better for it. No man likes to be made old and foolish in men’s eyes. David
had
not been clever, there. Nathan was prophet still; if David’s luck did not run true, men would remember that. And Nathan would remember David’s mocking smooth words.
When Nathan had done, I rose and led him over to the carved bench beside the fountain. Water danced in the sunlight and sang against the marble basin—a good place to sit and talk. Six paces away nothing could be heard but fountain-song.
“Well, and what does the queen want with me?” Nathan was ready to be pleased, now. Zhurleen was right; it was easy to please any man.
‘Only give him what he wants, and it is never much! Then you may take all he has and he will love you for it … .’
I smiled, and gave Nathan what would please him: respect. “Nathan is wise, and kind, and I am much troubled in my mind on a matter.”
Nathan took my hand and patted it. “Tell me, daughter. Any aid I can give, that you shall have.”
“You are good, Nathan—and I have not always been kind to you. When King David took me from my husband Phaltiel and brought me here—you remember?”
Yes, remember when I asked your aid, and my husband Phaltiel was found dead by the roadside. And remember when I accused King David, and you did not believe me. Remember that, Nathan.
Nathan remembered; I saw it in his face. “Queen Michal, once—
I shook my head. “Do not say it; the fault was mine. Grief shaped my words too harshly.” Whatever evil Nathan was now willing to believe of David must never be spoken. For King David must stay safe upon his gilded throne, so that Solomon might sit there after him.
There was a pause; we both listened to water fall on water. Then Nathan said, “You are a good daughter of Yahweh, O Queen. Tell me what troubles you. This time I will listen.”
“It concerns a great matter, Nathan. The king, and his mind in a certain thing. He has grown strange, since Prince Absalom’s death—have you seen it? Almost I think I see my father King Saul in him. A darkness in his eyes.”
“Samuel once warned the people what a king would be to them. Now they see the truth of Samuel’s words.” Nathan sounded more pleased than grieved.
“And when I see King David begin to act as King Saul did, I am afraid. What will become of us all if King David goes the way of King Saul?”
Nathan shook his head, and sighed. “That is in the hand of Yahweh.”
I bowed my head. “Has Yahweh turned his face from David, Nathan?”
The only sound was the water playing through the fountain. At last Nathan spoke, grudging the words.
“I do not know. He has sinned most grievously against the Law, yet Yahweh has not chastised him. Yahweh forgives him much.” Plainly Nathan thought Yahweh forgave David too much. “Is that what troubled the queen’s mind?”
I looked straight at Nathan and spoke plain. “No. What troubles the queen’s mind is not this king, but the next.”
“Adonijah is the oldest prince still living—”
I looked past the fountain. The sun shone white upon the lilies where once Amnon and Tamar had lain.
“Yes,” I said. “But is Adonijah to be king, after David? Tell me, Nathan—is that how King David was chosen, and King Saul? Does Prince Adonijah find favor in the sight of Yahweh?”
Nathan looked at me, and his eyes were shrewd as an old fox’s choosing a hen to carry away. “And who finds favor in the sight of Queen Michal? Prince Solomon? He is only a boy.”
“Solomon will not be a boy forever, as David will not be king forever.”
“Perhaps there have been too many kings in this land already.”
I laughed. “Perhaps there have, but where there have been two, there will be a third. Now see, Nathan—I have thought much on this, and for a long time. A king need not scourge his people; David is right—the king should be the people’s shepherd. But I
think David himself has forgotten how to tend sheep.” And I laughed again, inviting Nathan to laugh with me at David’s folly.
When Nathan sobered, he patted my hand again. “The king has always called you a clever woman, and he is right, daughter. You are wise as Deborah herself. Have you spoken to the king of this?”
“No, and I do not wish to.”
“But he will give you anything you ask; he has said so many times.”
“Not this,” I said. “Not so soon after Absalom. David trusts no one now—not even Joab.”
“What is it you ask of me, then? That I ask the king to name Solomon? I do not think the king will listen to me now.” Hard words to say; prophets are prideful men. Only Nathan would have been honest enough to admit such a thing. I could not imagine Samuel ever speaking so.
“I ask nothing, save that you think on this matter—and ask yourself who among David’s sons would best be named king after him. That is all.” I smiled, and touched Nathan’s hand. “And that you speak with Prince Solomon, if you will. His mother and I would have him learn what you alone can teach.”
“And would have me learn his virtues?” Nathan clasped his staff and hauled himself to his feet.
“Of course; it will spare you a mother’s listing of them! They are many, I assure you!”
Nathan stood straight and round before me, all dignity again. “Since you ask it, O Queen, I will think carefully on this matter. But I can promise nothing. All happens as Yahweh wills.”
It was a good beginning; I was content with that. And so I bade Nathan farewell, and watched him walk away from me. The prophet moved lighter now, as if walking were easier than it had been an hour before.
And then I sat and stared long at the dancing fountain. But I was no prophet or seer to gaze upon the future in crystal. All I saw was water falling clear through clear bright air.
 
 
“I talked with Nathan today; we spoke of Solomon. No, do not try to look at me, the comb will tangle in your hair.” I liked to comb Bathsheba’s hair in the evenings. It flowed about her like dark water; its thick waves caught the comb if I were not careful.
Bathsheba sat obedient. “What did you say—what did Nathan say of him? Will Nathan help us?”
“Perhaps,” I said. “He will speak with Solomon, which is all I asked of him today.”
“And tomorrow?” Bathsheba began to tilt her head back, recalled my warning, and stopped.
“Tomorrow, we shall see.”
“Nathan will be pleased with him?”
“Of course; who could not be pleased with Solomon?”
Bathsheba was silent a moment as I combed. “Adonijah?”
“Perhaps,” I said, and thought of Prince Adonijah. Absalom’s full brother, and now the eldest prince. “But I do not think, my love, that the wishes of Absalom’s brother will weigh heavy for a time.”
“And Solomon is such a
good
boy! And clever—why, he can sing all of his father’s songs—yes, and write his own, too!”
“And better!”
“No one sings a better song than King David.” To the end of her days Bathsheba would not admit a fault in David. To her he was always a great king, and his words glorious. Well, she had Solomon of him; children pay for much.
“Oh, that I will grant you! Bathsheba, I beg of you, hold still!”
But she twisted under my hands and stared up at me. “I must ask—I know I am foolish, but—will you ask Nathan to anoint Solomon now?”
I shook my head. “No. Solomon is too young; life is too uncertain. And Nathan must not be goaded.”
She sighed. “Oh, I am glad. Of course if you thought it wise, but—”
“But it would not be, and you are wise enough to see that!” I set my hands on her shoulders and turned her away again. “Now see, the comb is knotted into your hair. Be still while I work it free.”
Bathsheba sat quiet once more. “It is the anointing that makes a man king—so I have heard the priests say.”
“Yes.” I smiled and smoothed her dark hair. “That may be what counts, in the end. The priests are closer than Yahweh, after all—and Nathan’s voice is louder.”
“And so now we wait?”
“And so now we wait, Bathsheba. And pray that David does nothing to offend the priests too grievously.”
“Tell him he must not.” Bathsheba tilted her head back so that her hair fell over my hands like heavy rain. “For all men know the king does just as the queen wishes!”
I laughed, and kissed her forehead. “I will tell him. Now hold yourself still, or your hair will be a nest for owls!”
I stroked her hair smooth again, and began to comb once more. And as I smoothed and combed, I thought of what Bathsheba had said.
‘Tell him he must not!’
He must not offend, lest he fall before the power of the priests. Jerusalem was not all the kingdom … .
“The priests,” I said soft, staring into the shadows. The priests, who chose kings. The man the priests anointed had much to lose. What did the priests have at risk? “Nothing. They have nothing.”
“Who, Michal?”
“Yahweh’s priests. My father fell upon that blade, although it was a sword that slew his body.”
“Michal?” Bathsheba’s fingers curled about my wrist.
“Tell me, Bathsheba—what do the priests have?”
“Why—they have honor, and—and the king gives them many fine gifts—”
“And they take them, and eat at his table … .”
“Michal, are you all right? You sound so strange.”
“I was thinking of a thing Solomon said to me.” I gathered up
Bathsheba’s hair and began to braid it loose, for night.
“He says such clever things—like his father.”
“Yes, he is clever. It was after the Egyptians were here—you remember, speaking of their great temples? There, I am done—now you may move all you please.”
Bathsheba rose and held out her hand for the comb. “Sit down—now it is my turn to scold you! And what did Solomon say that was so clever?”
I sat, as Bathsheba had ordered. “Solomon asked me why their gods had temples, and ours only a tent.”
“To remind us of our fathers’ wanderings in the desert.” Bathsheba began pulling jasper pins from my hair. “Everyone knows that.”
“Yes, everyone knows that. But I think, my love, that perhaps we have wandered long enough.”
 
 
“ … that she may be a snare to him … .”
—I Samuel 18:21
 
All that night and the next day too I turned thoughts over in my mind, like pebbles in a stream-bed.
It was a lean year; the harvest was small. Well, with two wars and few men to put a crop in the ground, that was not strange. And there was sickness, too; a fever ravaged the city and the villages beyond.
That, too, was no new thing; war years were bad years. But men do not long remember that, when they are ill and hungry. It is easier to blame than to endure.
And I knew they already blamed David. Narkis had whispered into my ear.
“The men say in the marketplace that Yahweh has withdrawn from the king because he numbered the people. They say that is what causes the sickness. And the women say it at the well-side, too.
That was bad; David had always been the women’s darling.
But nothing was yet so bad that the damage might not be mended. And David must set his stitches now, before a small rent was a greater one, and the garment ruined.
So late the next day I smiled and asked a favor of Bathsheba. “Do this for me, Bathsheba—I would speak with King David. Go and send word, and tell him the matter cannot wait upon his pleasure.” I could have done the thing myself, but it pleased
Bathsheba to be useful; she was never too proud to lift her hand to a task.
And so she kissed me, and hastened off, and I sat once more beside my garden fountain and watched the falling water. The day was cloud-dark, and so the water looked thick and sullen. The weather had not been kind this season; too many clouds, too little rain; another tally-mark against King David.
I too had a tally against King David, and I counted it over as I sat there and waited for him to come to me.
Once I had sworn to bring him down as he had brought down my father. I would have sold my body in Ashtoreth’s temple to see him die as my father had—abandoned, humiliated, betrayed. I would have made no songs about it after, save those reviling David’s name.
Once I had sworn to slay his happiness as he had slain mine. I would have slit my own throat as a thank-offering over the altar of any god who gave me vengeance for Phaltiel’s death.
To have heard men call David truly what he was, to see his body broken and his eyes picked by the crows—yes, once that would have been all I wished to cherish through the years I would live.
But vengeance was a cold and empty thing to set in the balance against love. And so I had made my choice long ago, or so I thought. Yes, now I had Solomon and Bathsheba to love and care for. What did the great King David have to set in
his
scales?
A throne uneasily balanced between army and priests? A palace full of quarreling women? Sons counting the days until they could snatch at the heavy gold crown their father wore?
What did David have to make him happy? A crown?
He had given everything for that circlet of gold.
Rejoice in its
weight upon your head, David, for it is all you will ever possess.
And so when David came at last, it was easy to smile. Smile, and watch him walk down the crushed white shells paving the way to my fountain. He moved heavy now; an old bear, not a young lion; dull and thick as the day.
The clouds shifted and sunlight touched him; for an instant he shone bright. Then it was gone, and I looked at him in cool grey light. David was diminished without sun to make him dazzle and flash back from the mirrors he had always found in men’s eyes—and in women’s. And I knew it, and he did not.
‘The sun for beauty and the moon for love, and king besides—
’I heard Abigail’s voice clear in my mind; a plaint from long ago. Now I watched David come to me old and tired, and I smiled and held out my hand. “Come, sit by me, David. Even a king must rest.
“Did you summon me here to play women’s games, Michal? I have much awaiting my hand and eye.”
“No, I summoned you here to speak of women’s talk at the well—and of men’s at the gate.”
He sat, then. When he looked at me, I thought of my father Saul again. Suspicion lurked in David’s eyes now, far back, like a serpent deep within a cave. “Did Nathan set you on to this, my queen?”
“No, nor Abiathar nor Zadok either, although I know what they say. These words are my own.”
“Speak, then—your words are as pleasant to my ears as your face to my eyes.”
“So much as that? You do me too much honor, lord.”
David swore that impossible, but he was impatient and shifted upon the bench, and so I spoke before he grew too restive.
“You will not find these words pleasant, O King, but I beg you will hear them, for I have thought much upon this.” I looked at David’s eyes, and did not know if he would even listen, much less heed.
“Tell me, then—no one can say King David fears words.”
“It is about the priests, as you thought, and about the sickness men are calling plague. No, do not look so angry; you swore you would hear my words.”
“This matter is between the king and Yahweh, Michal—and
no other! And do you think I do not hear Nathan’s voice in your words? I am not yet in my dotage!”
“Of course you are not; have I said so? David, we both know this is no plague sent by Yahweh. But the priests believe it—or choose to.” I smiled, and set my hand upon his. “It is hard for a man to be troubled by priests, and for no fault of his own. But this is not a matter touching the king alone. All who love him are troubled by the king’s quarrel with the priests.”
David looked closely at me, but seemed satisfied enough with what he saw. I had long ago learned to show him a face smooth as cream. “Very well—speak, if you have words for my ear. But there is no quarrel—and remember that some things are between a man and his god alone.” He sat silent a moment, brooding. “Nathan forgets that. I am king here, not he.”
‘Who is king here, you or I—?’
I looked down at my folded hands; they revealed nothing. “Nathan is a good man, David.”
“He may be as a good a man as Moses, but he is not king.”
“No one says you are not king, David. Nathan says only that even the king must obey Yahweh’s Laws.”
“And so says that I do not!” David scowled, his face heavy and sullen as the water in my fountain.
“Oh, David—” For an instant I thought of a small spoiled boy; it must all be David’s way, or no way at all. “No one says so. All the world knows how you serve Yahweh. But Nathan is a prophet, and a proud man—as Samuel was. But you are wiser than King Saul.” That was truth; wiser was not better.
David smiled at me then, sly. “And you are clever, Michal. You were always clever, even as a girl.”
“Was I? From great David that is praise indeed.”
“Clever enough to lesson even a king. Speak, Michal. What is it you are thinking?”
“That even great David cannot openly defy the priests.” I would not have spoken so to my father; Saul would have roared. David was not Saul. “That great David will bow to them, and make amends.”
“What amends? I have committed no fault.” David’s eyes were
keen, now; seeking. He was not too proud to take a woman’s thoughts and make them his own.
“They are jealous, David—oh, surely you knew that? Jealous of your greatness and power. Only be truly great, and see them come again to eat from your hand.”
“And what would make the king truly great in the eyes of the priests?”
“I hardly dare ask so large a boon, even of great David.”
David smiled, and spread his hands wide. “What can the king offer, only to have the queen smile upon him?”
Ah, yes
—“Ask and it shall be granted. All to please my gracious queen.”
We both understood.
“Go to Nathan, David. Be greathearted and generous, as befits a king.” David must not war with the priests, no, not if I must crawl before him in the dust to stop it. David must hold his throne safe, so that Solomon might someday sit there. “Do not make the priests small in men’s eyes.”
David turned a ring about his finger. “Make them great instead?”
“See, the king knows it all already. Yes—let them take greatness from your hands.”
“And not I forgiveness from theirs.” David scowled again.
“We both know this sickness will soon pass from the land; why do you not go now to the priests? Yahweh loves you better than he loves them and they know it.”
“And humble myself before them, and take the guilt upon myself?”
“As the shepherd of his people should, though guiltless? Ah, that is clever—but you have always been a serpent for wisdom, David.” I smiled, and touched his hand.
“And the priests will set some price upon Yahweh’s goodwill—”
“Which the king will pay—”
“And all men shall see how the king cares for them,” David
said. “And how Yahweh favors the king above all others. You think as I do, Michal—have I not always said we were much alike?”
“My lord the king does me too much honor,” I said, and smiled as if his words gave me great pleasure. “And when all has fallen out as the king has said, David the harper can make a song of it.”
“To show all men the truth of the king’s love for them.” David took my hands and kissed me upon the mouth. “My clever queen! But I must not stay by your side as I wish; I spoke truth when I said I had much under my hand today.”
“Wait,” I said. “I would tell you a thing that Solomon said to me.
“Solomon? Well, if you must—”
“I must.” I folded my hands in my lap, and smiled. “He asked me why the holy Ark dwells in a tent, when other gods dwell in fine temples among gold and silver. He is such a clever little boy, your son.”
David laughed, thinking Solomon’s question only a small jest. “A temple for the Ark? What will that boy think of next? This is not Moab or Philistia. Yahweh cannot be imprisoned in a temple.”
“No,” I said. “But his priests can.”
David stopped smiling, then. And he was silent for a time. I sat quiet and said nothing. At last he stirred and rose to his feet. “You have indeed given me much to think on, Michal. Now I must go. Do not sit here overlong—you will grow cold.”
And he patted my shoulder and went away. I sat and watched him go, as I had watched him come, and thought of the past, and David—and of the future, and Solomon.
 
 
But no temple was built that year, or for many years after. Nathan forbade it.
“Tell me what manner of temple would most please Yahweh,” David said, smiling. “Tell me what you would have—yes, even to half the treasure in my house, for the glory of the Lord.”
“So much as half—the king is too generous.” And then Nathan smiled, too. “Has Yahweh asked for a fine house to be built for him? Does the Lord dwell in walls of wood and stone? Who are you to set the Ark within walls of cedar? Can Yahweh be kept closed beneath a roof?
“Yahweh has made you great, O King. He has given his people into your hand and delivered your enemies up to your sword. He asks only that you worship him and keep his laws. When Yahweh wants a great house of gold and cedar, he will tell us. Save your treasure, King David. It will not buy Yahweh’s love.”
This did not please David, though he swallowed the rebuke with good grace and praised Nathan’s wisdom. It pleased the high priests still less; Abiathar spoke hard to Nathan, saying that the great gods of the world had fine temples, and the greatest of all should have the finest.
And it did not please me; I called Nathan to me and asked him why he had spoken as he had.
“I know what troubles you, my daughter. Be at peace: this king will build no temple to Yahweh’s glory—and his own.” And Nathan looked at Solomon, who played among the flowers in my garden, and smiled.
This
king. I kept my face smooth; I would not grasp too quickly, for I might be wrong. I would be patient, I would wait. “Your words bring comfort, Nathan. I know I worry too much over our boy—but he is young, and waiting is hard.”
“Even Yahweh’s beloved cannot live forever, my queen. And there is much the prince must learn before then.” Nathan drew himself up, leaning upon his staff. “I am old, but I still have the strength to wait and teach. We will hold the throne safe for Prince Solomon.”
Safe for Prince Solomon.
The boon I had asked, fallen into my hand like ripe fruit. Yes, and when Solomon was king,
he
would build a great temple, to Yahweh’s glory and the king’s safe reign … .
For a moment I could not move for joy; then I caught Nathan’s
hands up and kissed them. “Yes; that we will do. Safe, for Solomon. You will never be sorry, Nathan. I swear it.”
Nathan beamed upon me, and blessed me before he went away again. I stood in the dappled sunlight and watched as Solomon chased brightness through the garden. Butterflies eager for my roses; I laughed. “Come here to me, Solomon—you will never catch a butterfly.”

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