Michal (14 page)

He left the chamber and climbed the steps into the tower. From this vantage point, he could see the crowds four and five people deep on either side of the dirt path through the gates and along the winding road that led to Gibeah. Dust rose in great clouds in the distance, indicating the coming of a large company. The jingling sound of a tambourine joined the melodic trill of a flute. Moments later a loud chorus of women began singing.

“Saul has slain his thousands, and David his ten thousands. Saul has slain his thousands, and David his ten thousands.”

The dust settled behind the feet of three thousand soldiers as they marched toward Gibeah. At their head, Saul’s three commanders rode black horses. They pranced toward the gates as Saul hurried down the steps. He would meet them in a special chamber in the gate, where complaints were often brought and judgments were passed. A raised dais of ivory inlaid with gold stood along the center of the back wall. Guards flanked either side of the throne, and Saul took his place between them. He was king, he reminded himself as he tried to block out the sound of the infamous victory song. The people were only praising David because he’d killed the giant. They’d forget about him soon enough.

The noise grew louder as the crowd drew closer to the gate. A horse whinnied and another snorted.

What’s taking them so long?

“David . . . David . . . David . . . David . . .”

A chant began outside, and Saul walked to the window to look out. David waved his arms and waited for the crowd to quiet. “Thank you. The Lord is good.”

The people cheered, and David held up his hand for silence. “The Lord gave the armies of Israel a great victory. Let us remember that it is not by the strength of man but by the Lord’s might that we are successful.”

Women took up the flute and tambourine again, but David stopped them with a disapproving shake of his head. “Sing your praises to the Lord Most High, not to me.” He hopped off his horse and followed Abner and Jonathan into the judgment chamber.

Saul slipped back to his throne, seething. How dare the people praise David over Abner and Jonathan. His son-in-law’s status was rising above his own son, heir to his throne. He clenched and unclenched his fists. David would continue to snatch the glory away from Jonathan. There would be no end of it. Every time Saul had sent him to war in the last nine months, he had returned victorious. Only this time the crowds were larger, the praises louder.

“Saul has slain his thousands, and David his ten thousands.”

The song came through the walls of the tower, growing and swelling like a living thing as his three commanders filed through the door and knelt at his feet.

He drummed the arm of the chair with tense fingers while Abner began to speak. What was he saying? Something about routing the Philistines. The voices in his head kept pace with the song, blocking out Abner’s words. Who were the Philistines? Oh, that’s right. The enemy. The defeated enemy.

Saul lifted both hands to his ears.
Stop screaming at me!

“Are you all right, Father?”

Who said that? His gaze drifted from Jonathan to David. He lifted his arm and pointed at his son-in-law.

“Send him home.”

The room began spinning, and a sharp pain shot against his left ear. Saul leaned his head back against the coolness of the stone and closed his eyes briefly. Blinking them open again, he tried to move but could only focus on blurred objects in front of him. Time seemed to stand still until he drifted into merciful blackness.

The moment Michal caught sight of David trudging a slow path toward their house, she flew down the mud-brick steps from the roof to meet him.

“David! Oh, David. You’re back.”

Her heart melted at his tender look, and he dropped the weapons he carried and whisked her into his arms. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered. His fingers sifted through her undone hair, and he buried his face against her ear. “Just hold me, Michal.”

Her arms slid around his neck, and she kissed his sun-drenched cheek. He smelled of fields and fresh air, and her heart sighed with relief at the scent of him, then soared with delight at his gentle touch.

“Let’s go inside.” He spoke against her ear, one arm around her waist, the other scooping his gear in one hand.

Michal leaned into him and smiled. “I’ve made your favorite pastries, David, and fresh wine is cooling in a tub of water.” He released her to close the door, and Michal hurried toward the kitchen. “If you sit on the couch, Keziah can wash your feet.”

She turned to pick up a tray of pastries and hurried back toward the sitting room, nearly bumping into David, who still stood where she had left him.

“My lord, I thought you would sit and rest your feet—” His look halted her words, and her heart jumped to her throat. She swallowed and lowered the tray to a table. “What’s wrong?”

David cupped his sturdy hands over hers. “We defeated the Philistines.”

“You’re distressed over a victory?”

“No, of course not. It’s what happened at the gate afterward, as we returned home.”

Michal watched the discouragement flicker in his eyes. She pulled one hand from his grip to brush the hair from his wrinkled brow. “Tell me.”

He studied her with searching intensity. “Your father collapsed.”

Stunned, Michal felt her knees grow weak. “What do you mean? Is he dead?”

“No, no, he’s fine . . . physically.”

Michal’s heartbeat slowed, and she wrapped her fingers around David’s and squeezed. “The demons?”

David nodded. “The women were singing your father’s favorite tune as we entered the city.”

Michal groaned. “Not again.”

David gave her a rueful smile. “Yes, again. Only this time they started chanting my name when they finished the song, then sang it all over again, though I tried to stop them.” He draped one arm over her shoulder and pulled her close, kissing the top of her head. “I’m weary of your father, Michal.”

“Then don’t think about him.” She leaned into his chest, the fatigue in his body pervading hers. “Come,” she said softly, leading him to the couch. “For tonight we will not speak of him again. We will pretend my father is dead and you are king, beloved.”

“I can’t pretend such things.”

She urged him to sit and pulled his sandals from his dusty feet. “Yes, you can. And if not, I will pretend enough for both of us.”

The twittering of the birds the next morning woke Jonathan from a sporadic night’s rest on a mat in a corner of his father’s room. He should have been home greeting his wife, but duty called before pleasure, and Jonathan’s obligation was with his father.

The yellow glow of the rising sun filtered through a slit in the heavy red curtains, which were drawn to allow the king more time to sleep. After collapsing, then wakening in a rage, then passing out again, he needed all the rest he could get. Jonathan sighed. A longing to see Sarah again struck with such ferocity that he felt ill. Then again, maybe the nausea was due to sleeping in tents and riding rough terrain, then coming home and sleeping on a hard floor next to a restless, unpredictable monarch.

Standing and stretching to his full height, Jonathan strode to the window and peered through the crack to watch the explosion of warm color accompany the dawn. The beauty of the Most High’s creation sifted through him. How he longed for tranquility. To walk the highlands and listen to the whispers of nature would do wonders to erase the frustration in his soul.

O Lord, how long?
The prayer echoed from deep within him. How long must he live with his father’s madness? How long until he could help David lead the people back to true worship of Adonai?
When, Lord? When?

Yesterday, when they had returned from the battle, David had refused the praises his father reveled in. David had turned the people’s focus back to the Lord. As it should be. If only Israel could have a leader who would always point them in that direction.

Not until Father is dead.

The thought disturbed him. He didn’t wish his father harm. But he longed for peace—a blissful entity that seemed a long time in coming.

“Jonathan?” The voice of his father startled him.

“Yes, Father, I’m here.” Jonathan strode to the king’s large bed and sat beside him. “Are you feeling better?”

Saul shook his head as though to clear it. He looked around the room, a dazed expression on his face. His gaze settled on Jonathan, and his eyes became cloudy and then hardened, the lines around his mouth stretching taut. Sitting straight up in bed, his father gripped the edges of the wooden frame, every muscle in his arms and neck strained. With a fierce growl, he leaned forward and grabbed Jonathan’s tunic.

“David must die!”

Jonathan bit back a retort and pried himself loose from his father’s grip. He gently patted his arm. “You’re distraught, Father. You need rest.”
Please, God, give him more rest.

“No! As long as the son of Jesse lives on the earth, you will never be king. He must die!”

“If killing David is the only way to make me king, I would rather die myself. Please, Father, think of all David has done for you. We would be captives of the Philistines by now if it weren’t for him.”

Saul jumped from his bed and marched out of his bedroom and down the hall. “David must die!”

Jonathan sat in stunned silence, exhaustion slowing his reactions. What had just happened here?

“David must die!” Saul’s words grew dimmer as he strode farther from the bedchamber.

Adrenaline rushed like a raging river through Jonathan’s veins. He jumped to his feet and ran from the room, down the long corridors, and across the field at the back of the palace grounds.

To warn David.

“I’ll leave right away.” David bent to fasten his sandals. “Thank you for telling me.” Jonathan’s strong arms pulled David into a fierce embrace.

“Be careful, David. I will take my father to the practice field and meet you at the stone Ezel after I try to talk some sense into him.”

David swallowed the bitter lump in his throat, his shoulders sagging. This constant running was getting tiresome. Hardly a day went by when he didn’t fear for his life. Had God changed His mind? Maybe Samuel had made a mistake.

David snatched his leather belt from a peg on the wall and girded himself with his sword and sling. Michal’s quiet weeping cut deep into his heart. Oh, that he could take her away, as she had requested, and hide her from her father’s insanity. He walked to her side and pulled her close.

“Don’t worry, beloved. God will protect me.” He had to believe it. He lifted her chin with his fingers and kissed her. “I must go.”

He released his grip on her arms and watched her collapse into a chair. Her emotional state was not helping him. With an about-face, he turned to Jonathan and followed him into the courtyard.

“Fear not, my friend,” Jonathan said, clutching David’s shoulders. “You know how unstable my father can be. He changes with the wind, and I’m certain this time will be no different.”

David gave him a cheerless smile. “I hope you’re right.”

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