Unspoken (18 page)

The people protested loudly against his going out with them. “You must not go. If we have to turn and run—and even if half of us die—it will make no difference to Absalom’s troops; they will be looking only for you. You are worth ten thousand of us, and it is better that you stay here in the city and send us help if we need it.”

David listened and once more stepped down. “If you think that’s the best plan, I’ll do it.” He gave orders to Joab, Abishai, and Ittai in front of the army. “For my sake, deal gently with young Absalom.” Then he remained standing at the gate as the men passed by him and went out to battle.

Once again, David remained behind while others fought for him. But this time he did it because it was what the people wanted and not what he wanted for himself.

The watchman from the tower called down. “A runner is coming!”

David paced. “If he is alone, he has news,” he muttered to himself. When the watchman shouted down again that another man was spotted coming swiftly after, David’s heart quickened in dread.

“The first man runs like Ahimaaz son of Zadok!” the watchman called again.

David clenched and unclenched his hands. “He is a good man and comes with good news.”

Ahimaaz called out before he reached the open gate, “All is well!” David’s heart leaped as the young man fell to his knees before him and bowed his face to the ground. “Blessed be the Lord your God,” he gasped, “who has handed over the rebels who dared to stand against you.”

“What about young Absalom? Is he all right?”

Ahimaaz raised his head in surprise. His eyes flickered and he bowed his head again. “When Joab told me to come, there was a lot of commotion. But I didn’t know what was happening.”

Why did Ahimaaz hide his face? David’s heart beat harder. He raised his head as the watchman cried out again. Another messenger raced toward them. “Wait here,” David ordered Ahimaaz.

The second messenger arrived, breathless and dusty. “I have good news for my lord the king. Today the Lord has rescued you from all those who rebelled against you.”

“What about young Absalom? Is he all right?” David demanded.

The Cushite’s eyes flashed. “May all of your enemies, both now and in the future, be as that young man is!”

David’s heart turned over, for he knew. “My son! My son is dead!” he cried out in anguish. “O my son Absalom! My son, my son Absalom! If only I could have died instead of you! O Absalom, my son, my son!”

Stumbling up the stairs into the chamber above the gate, David collapsed in grief.

David didn’t rouse himself when the door of his chamber opened. He didn’t raise his head until Joab’s voice flooded over him in a rage.

“We saved your life today and the lives of your sons, your daughters, and your wives and concubines!” Joab’s face was red, his hand clenched on the handle of his sword. “Yet you act like this, making us feel ashamed, as though we had done something wrong. You seem to love those who hate you and hate those who love you. You have made it clear today that we mean nothing to you. If Absalom had lived and all of us had died, you would be pleased!”

David hated him and saw in the man’s eyes that he had been behind Absalom’s death. And was glad of it. “He was my son, my heir!” Had he not ordered Joab before witnesses to treat his son gently? But Joab always did what he thought best, with no regard for others—or for what was right. He was a man who served his own ambitions.

And David saw death in the man’s hot eyes.

“
Get up!
” Joab shouted at him. “Now
go out there
and congratulate the troops, for I swear by the Lord that if you don’t, not a single one of them will remain here tonight. Then you will be worse off than you have ever been!”

Anger filled David. His body shook as he strove to calm himself, to control the impulse to attack the man. If he didn’t do what Joab said, what would it cost the kingdom? He looked into his commander’s eyes and knew that if he didn’t get up, Joab would be the one to strike, for he made no attempt to hide his anger or disgust.

David rose and crossed the room. He stood in front of Joab and stared into his eyes. “Did you kill him because he burned your field?” A muscle jerked in Joab’s cheek as he glared back, silent. David’s lip curled. Even if he hadn’t, Joab had still ignored the command of the king.

And David knew there was nothing he could do about it. Not now. Once again, it had been Joab who led the army to victory, while the king had waited within the city walls.

Joab stepped back and inclined his head. He had the eyes of a coiled snake.

David didn’t give him the chance to strike. Stifling his anger and grief, he went out and sat by the gate. One by one, his warriors came out to see him, and he thanked each of them properly for saving his kingdom.

And then David took his household back to Jerusalem.

Bathsheba sat in her chamber and waited. Would David blame her for the death of his son Absalom? Her grandfather had been behind the conspiracy to kill David and take the throne. Did he blame her now?

Days passed and she didn’t see him. Nor did the king summon any other woman.

Then, one day, the door opened, and without being announced he entered her room. She rose, her heart in her throat. He looked thinner, his face lined with suffering, streaks of gray at his temples. She took several steps toward him and then went down on her knees, bowing her head until her forehead touched the floor. “Oh, David, I’m so sorry.” She began to weep.

His hand rested gently on her head. “I don’t blame you for Ahithophel’s actions.”

She raised her head and looked into his eyes. Amazed, she saw that he still loved her. “Oh, David.” He went down beside her and she went into his arms. He held her so tightly, she hurt. She put her head against his chest and felt him kiss the back of her neck.

“I have news,” he whispered against her hair, his arms tightening even more. “When Absalom took Hushai’s advice to wait, Ahithophel went home and hanged himself.”

She trembled violently. God had heard and answered her prayers.
“Ahithophel’s sin will rest upon his own head,”
Solomon had said to her as they fled from Absalom. Her grandfather had judged and, by his own measure, had been judged.

David nuzzled her neck, kissing the sensitive curve and making her tremble. His breath was warm against her flesh. She heard the hard swift pounding of his heart.

“I’ve decided Solomon will be heir to the throne.” She drew back sharply and looked up at him, afraid. He cupped her face. “I’ve decided. Do you want to know why? The others have nursed their sons on ambition and made them hungry for power.” She saw the grief in his eyes. “I swear to you, Bathsheba, it will be
your
son who wears the crown.”

“But who am I that you would—”

“Of all my wives and concubines, only you have wholeheartedly sought the Lord.”

Her eyes filled. “Where else could I go after what I’d done and all the pain that’s come from it?”

David kissed the tears that streaked her face. “Maybe it’s only those who’ve made such chaos of their lives who can understand the heights and depths of God’s mercy.” He kissed her lips. “I was fond of you because you were the daughter of my friend. I lusted after you and took you because of your beauty. I have loved you for the pleasure you’ve given me and the peace I feel in your company.” He drew back and took her hands.

They stood together. His gaze never left hers as he lifted her hands and kissed each palm. “But I love you most of all for the loving wife you’ve been to me and the mother you are to my sons. You have raised up four men who love the Lord and seek His face, sons I’m proud of, sons I . . .” His voice broke.

She put her arms around him and comforted him, knowing what he wanted to say but couldn’t.

She had raised up sons he could trust.

JUST before David’s return to Jerusalem, another rebellion had threatened to tear the nation into factions as Sheba, a Benjaminite, called the men of Israel to war against David. His call to arms ignited the discord that had been festering between the ten tribes of Israel and David’s own tribe, Judah. Only the men of Judah clung to their king.

Now David instructed Amasa to mobilize his army, but Joab murdered him and took command of David’s army once again, leading the warriors out against Sheba. Trapping the rebel at Abel-beth-maacah, he laid siege to the city until a woman gathered the elders and convinced them to toss Sheba over the wall, saving the city from Joab.

Years later, the Philistines came out against Israel, and David led the nation into battle again. He was old and weary, and the men protested. “You are not going out into battle again! Why should we risk snuffing out the light of Israel!”

David relented, and his men went into battle without him. During the war that ensued, his mighty men struck down Goliath’s brothers, thus wiping out the last descendants of the titan.

Even while David wrote psalms of praise for the Lord, his strong tower and mighty fortress, he sinned against the Lord by taking a census of his fighting men. His pride and ambition led him to count the people so that he could glory in the size of his army, its power and defenses—rather than trusting in God’s ability to give them victory regardless of their number. Was it by man’s strength his kingdom stood?

When David recognized his sin, he begged for God’s forgiveness. The Lord gave him a choice: three years of famine, three months of fleeing from his enemies, or three days of plague. “Let us fall into the hands of the Lord,” David said, “for His mercy is great.” He chose the plague.

Seventy thousand people died because David had counted his men and gloried in their numbers. Then the Lord relented and said, “Stop! That is enough!” David saw God’s death angel sheathe his sword on the threshing floor of Araunah the Jebusite, and he shook in awe. David bought Araunah’s threshing floor and oxen and built an altar there, presenting burnt offerings and communion sacrifices to the Lord, who had stopped the destruction of Israel.

One day the Temple would stand on the same spot.

Bathsheba watched her beloved husband growing older. His hair was gray, the lines deepening in his still handsome face. His shoulders drooped as though the weight of Israel were on his shoulders. He walked more slowly through the corridors of his palace, and he seldom visited his concubines. His wives continued to come to him with their complaints, pressing their sons forward for his notice until David allowed some to assume duties.

On occasion, David would come to Bathsheba’s quarters and spend an afternoon with her. “I was once as swift as an eagle, but now my legs weigh like tree trunks, keeping me planted firmly on the ground.”

She smiled up at him as she rubbed his feet. “We’re all getting older, my love.” When he shivered, she put a blanket around his shoulders.

He took her hand and kissed it. “You’re as beautiful to me now as you were as a young woman.”

“And you’re as charming as ever.” She rose and kissed him with the affection of a couple that had weathered many storms over the decades. “You’re still shivering.”

“The hot blood of my youth has grown cold.”

“I don’t love you any less.”

“My servants have found a way to keep me warm.”

She smiled wryly. “So I heard.” They’d scoured the land to find the most beautiful young virgin to sleep with him. “Did you plant the idea in their heads, you old rogue?”

“Abishag is beautiful to behold, but that’s all I do—look. I’m past all the rest.”

“If I could’ve held you to me alone, I would have.”

“And if I’d been wiser at a younger age . . .” He sighed. “If, if . . .” He shook his head. “I knew the Law as well as any man could. I daresay that even if we had the Law written upon our hearts, we would still be incapable of staying out of trouble.”

“You have always been a man after God’s own heart.”

“I’m beset by failure on every side. An adulterer, a murderer, a—”

She put her fingers over his lips. “God loves you because you repented every time you realized you’d sinned. You
grieved.
You
tried
to do right. God knows you are only a man, my love.”

“A man who has hurt everyone he loves and cost the lives of countless thousands.” He shook his head, his eyes filling with tears. “Why did God do it? Of all the men in Israel, why did God choose
me
to be king?”

She knelt in front of him and rested her head in his lap. She smiled and closed her eyes as he combed his fingers through her hair. “Because you’re the only man who would ask that question.”

Bathsheba knew that Haggith was encouraging her son, Adonijah, to claim his rights as the next heir, for he had been born next after Absalom. When Adonijah procured chariots and horses and recruited fifty men to run in front of him, behaving before all Israel as though he were already king, just as Absalom had done all those years before, she became afraid. Was another rebellion brewing?

David said nothing about Adonijah’s activities, and Bathsheba held her tongue. But she wondered. Had David forgotten his promise to make Solomon king? If Adonijah became king, she and her sons would die the day David did, for Adonijah was as arrogant as Absalom had been in his public posturing. When she heard from her sons that Adonijah had parlayed with Joab and Abiathar the priest and that they were lending him their support, she knew it wouldn’t be long before he proclaimed himself king and had the backing to uphold his claim.

She took her fear of the future before the Lord. She fasted and prayed, and waited for Him to answer.

Adonijah went to the sacrificial feast of sheep, oxen, and fattened calves near En-rogel. He invited all of David’s sons to go with him—all but Solomon and his brothers, the prophet Nathan, the priest Benaiah, and the warriors who remained loyal to the king.

Bathsheba knew war was again at hand. Perhaps this was God’s final judgment upon her and David for their sins.

Nathan came to her, grim of countenance, his eyes fierce and alive in his ancient face. “Did you realize that Haggith’s son, Adonijah, has made himself king and that our lord David doesn’t even know about it?”

“I’ve been praying.”

“If you want to save your own life and the life of your son Solomon, follow my counsel. Go at once to King David and say to him, ‘My lord, didn’t you promise me that my son Solomon would be the next king and would sit upon your throne? Then why has Adonijah become king?’ And while you are still talking with him, I will come and confirm everything you have said.”

“I will do it,” she said, trembling at what might happen if David had forgotten his promise. Would he think she was just like all the other women in his life, scrambling for power for her sons? Yet, what choice had she? Power in the wrong hands would bring death to her entire family.

She prayed feverishly as she hurried along the corridor to the king’s chambers. “I must speak with the king on a matter of great importance,” she told his guard. He bowed his head to her and went to seek the permission of the king, returning soon after and opening the door for her.

As Bathsheba entered, she saw the beautiful Shunammite girl, Abishag, serving the king his morning meal. The girl looked up, her lovely face lighting with a sweet smile, inclining her head in respectful greeting. Bathsheba had liked her from their first meeting. Abishag had been a shepherdess over her father’s flock before she’d been brought to Jerusalem to serve the king. The loving young Shunammite had many things in common with the old king, especially her faith.

Bathsheba went down on her knees, bowing her face to the ground before her husband, the king.

David roused himself. “What can I do for you, Bathsheba?”

Her heart thundered as she prayed,
Oh, Lord, don’t let David see me as he does the others.
She lifted her head and trembled as she spoke. “My lord, you vowed to me by the Lord your God that my son Solomon would be the next king and would sit on your throne. But instead, Adonijah has become the new king, and you do not even know about it. He has sacrificed many oxen, fattened calves, and sheep, and he has invited all your sons and Abiathar the priest and Joab, the commander of the army.”

David sat up, his eyes suddenly fierce.

“But he did not invite your servant Solomon. And now, my lord the king, all Israel is waiting for your decision as to who will become king after you. If you do not act, my son Solomon and I will be treated as criminals as soon as you are dead.”

“My lord the king,” the guard said from the doorway, “Nathan the prophet is here to see you. He said it is a matter of gravest import.”

“Let him enter!” David said, breathing heavily, his face tense and red. He waved Abishag away impatiently. “Go, Bathsheba. Leave me!”

Striving to control her emotions, she hurried out of his chamber. She paced and prayed while she waited outside.
Oh, Lord of mercy, let him heed Your prophet.
She clenched her hands and stood, eyes closed.
Oh, God, move David’s heart to remember his promise. I know I’m unworthy. I know I’m unworthy, but please save my sons. Set Your servant Solomon upon the throne.

“Call Bathsheba!” David roared, and her heart stopped. It began pounding hard and fast as she hastened toward the door.

The guard opened it for her. “I am here, my lord the king.”

David was standing. “As surely as the Lord lives, who has rescued me from every danger, today I decree that your son Solomon will be the next king and will sit on my throne, just as I swore to you before the Lord, the God of Israel.”

Bathsheba dropped to her knees and bowed her face to the ground, weeping as she spoke from her heart. “May my lord King David live forever!”

David called for Zadok the priest, Benaiah, and Nathan the prophet, and gave them instructions. “Take Solomon and my officers down to Gihon Spring. Solomon is to ride on my personal mule. There Zadok the priest and Nathan the prophet are to anoint him king over Israel. Then blow the trumpets and shout, ‘Long live King Solomon!’ When you bring him back here, he will sit on my throne. He will succeed me as king, for I have appointed him to be ruler over Israel and Judah.”

“Amen!” the priests said, their eyes glowing as they glanced at one another.

The old lion had finally awakened.