Warrior Poet (26 page)

When the Philistine soldiers were dead, David assigned Josheb the task of collecting the trophies while he took his warriors to kill as many other Philistine men as they could before any survivors brought back reinforcements. A little before midnight, they were trotting back out through the gates of the city. David was trailed by twenty-six men. Sometime during the raid, ten of Jonathan’s men had joined them.

“Where is the prince?” David asked one of them. He knew the man only by his nickname, Sammi. He was thin but was a surprisingly good swordsman and a superb javelin thrower.

“The Philistines put up more fight than expected. He stayed with the others to make sure they finished them off. He told us to join you to help make sure you gathered the necessary amount.”

“How many did your men get?” David asked, gesturing at the sodden bag that bounced at Sammi’s waist.

“Well, we had help from someone inside,” the lanky fighter answered. “We did not get his name. All I know is that he was not an Israelite and that he had a good head start by the time we arrived. He seemed to hate the Philistines even more than we do. So together with his, it amounts to fifty-one.”

“Well done.” David laughed, slapping Sammi on the back.

“What are they for?” Josheb interrupted. He had been loping behind them. At his waist was a similar bag.

“First, tell me how many you have.”

“Including the guards at the gate—forty-eight.”

When David told Josheb about Michal’s dowry, the braided warrior threw his head back and laughed. When he had regained his breath, he looked down at David’s pouch. “If I may ask, Captain, did your men surpass our total?”

David held up a damp leather pouch. “If the count was accurate, the number is fifty-nine.”

Josheb and Sammi howled with delight. “That should be plenty to impress any princess.”

When they rejoined the others in the woods, Jonathan rushed up to David, lifting a bag in front of him. “Thirty-nine. Only one escaped. He fled toward Gaza, but since it was getting dark, we had to let him go.” He looked at what David was holding. “We need only sixty-one. Tell me you got at least that many.”

David shook his head, feigning disappointment. “I’m afraid not. I am two short.”

Jonathan’s shoulders slouched, and he slapped his thighs in disgust. “That will never appease Father. He will demand the exact amount. We’ve got to go back and get what we came for.”

David waved his companions forward. He interrupted the prince, trying to keep the elation out of his voice. “Wait a moment. Josheb and Sammi have their own bags.” They lifted them proudly. “Altogether, we have nearly twice what the king asked for!”

Jonathan hooted in pleasure, gripping David’s shoulders as they headed back toward Gibeah. “A good evening’s work, brother-in-law,” he said. “Nothing can keep Father from honoring his oath now.”

The following morning, David asked to see King Saul but was told he was in bed with a severe headache. David set the four bags stiff with dried blood in front of the stocky guard. “Make sure you show these to the king when he improves.” The soldier gave him a knowing nod. There was a trace of a smile on his face as he picked them up and tested their weight. “And if he does not want to count them,” David added, “you can tell him that there are one hundred and ninety-seven. Proof of the depth of my devotion to his daughter.”

“It will be an honor, Captain,” the guard said, saluting smartly. His smile was now a wide grin.

About ten months later, four more than the king had promised but two months fewer than the normal betrothal period, the royal family celebrated the marriage of the youngest daughter. It was barely two months after the marriage of Merab, the eldest. The brief ceremony was held inside the palace. Ahimelech had traveled down from the tabernacle at Nob to perform the ceremony. The elders from each of the twelve tribes were in attendance, along with all of the commanders of the army. David invited his brothers and father, but only Shimeah came. He claimed that Jesse was in no condition to travel. He made no excuses for the others.

Though a wedding was normally a solemn affair, by the time the wedding date arrived, news of the dowry price had spread, undermining the seriousness of the ritual. In breach of protocol, at Michal’s insistence, David agreed not to hand over the specific items establishing his bride’s value.

As they stood holding hands under the chupah, the wedding canopy, David thought that Michal had never looked more stunning. A nearly transparent veil covered her head but did not obscure her black hair, which lay in beautiful ringlets along her cheeks and was pulled back from her eyes with a headband of golden coins. She also wore a jeweled nose ring that sparkled whenever she smiled mischievously. Her gown was a perfectly fitted lavender silk. David had to tear his eyes away from her when the king rose to make his welcome.

Saul began by making a general, very diplomatic reference to the dowry. When he had declared his formal acceptance, Jonathan’s raucous cheer triggered a burst of laughter that swept through the courtyard. The hilarity was a boon to David, whose nerves had made him feel as though he were about to lose his breakfast.

When quiet was restored, David, with a grateful glance at the prince, took Michal’s hands and made the fateful declaration: “You are my wife and I am your husband from this day and forever.” This was followed by Ahimelech’s prayer thanking God for the blessing of the chupah and requesting a fruitful womb. With a chorus of amens—and with ribald shouts—the festivities began.

The celebration lasted till well past midnight. Michal kept throwing impatient glances in her father’s direction, wanting him to give the new couple permission to leave. They would not be going far. Their home was still under construction, so they would be spending their first night—and as many more as were required—in her own chambers.

Finally King Saul, on unsteady legs, stood with cup in hand. “Here is to David, my new son-in-law, and his beautiful bride, my dearest Michal. May God give them a long and fruitful life.” The affection in his eyes as he looked at his daughter was unmistakable. “Let us stand together and wish them the blessing of a full quiver and allow them to get to it!”

The courtyard thundered with much foot stomping, thumping of tabletops, and shouts of congratulation as David and Michal, blushing, hurried up the stairs. Jonathan, along with Michal’s three other brothers, trailed a few steps behind. Seeing them following, Michal picked up the edge of her dress and started to run down the hall. When she and David reached her chamber, she quickly opened her door and rushed in. Before David could follow, Jonathan pulled him back. “Michal knows you are a champion on the battlefield,” he said, swaying slightly. “We all do.” He blinked, his eyes trying to focus. “Now I expect you will show your wife what a champion lover you are.” Michal reached out and pulled David through the doorway before Jonathan could say anything further. Then she slammed the door. The four began pounding and hooting on the other side.

Michal pushed David aside, swung the door open, and stood in the entrance, hands on her hips. “Stop it this moment!” she said through pursed lips. “Leave us alone this instant, or by the gods, I will make each of you pay! And don’t you dare say another word!” The four laughed but turned away meekly, making subdued jokes among themselves as she once more shut the door firmly.

After their voices blended into the raucous sounds coming up from the courtyard, Michal pulled out a key from a small purse at her side, turned, and locked the door. Without turning to face David, she untied the purse from her waist and dropped the silk bag onto the table by the door. With the grace of a dancer, she unwrapped the scarf and laid it next to the bag and the oil lamp that was beside it.

David, an arm’s length behind her, could not move. He was watching her as if in a trance. Michal shook her head and ran both hands through her thick black hair so that it lay loose against her cheeks. The strands glistened like raven’s wings in the lamplight. She turned slowly to him. Her face was flushed, and her eyes shone.

David could not move. He felt as if his arms and legs had been wrapped in iron. Michal did not seem to notice. She reached back to pick up the oil lamp and with her other hand took his and without a word led him into her bedroom.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

A month and a half after the wedding, their house was finally completed. It was more extravagant than David would have liked, but after six weeks worrying about aggravating his father-in-law’s hostility, he would have been content moving into a stable.

Imposing the outlandish dowry had the opposite effect from what the king had intended. David’s victory made him even more popular and earned him another promotion. This time he was appointed commander over a full squadron—one thousand men.

Still intent on ridding himself of his chief rival, Saul selected David to lead the most dangerous missions. Due to the ferocity of his attacks, the men began referring to David as the
Lion of Judah. And despite his best efforts, word of the title filtered back to the palace. That, along with his string of military successes, only reinforced the king’s implacable suspicions and drove Saul nearly frantic with jealousy. Furious at the backlash of his schemes, Saul no longer attempted to hide his resentment whenever David’s squadron returned home. He pointedly refused to greet his celebrated commander.

The tension in the palace was so intense that whenever David was not with his men, he was overseeing the work of the stonemasons, intent on ensuring maximum speed without sacrificing quality. “Whoever lays the most stone will receive double his weekly earnings,” became the regular incentive. It was one of several ploys to keep the men focused on the end goal. Another had been appointing his nephew Joab as the interior foreman.

Even more than desiring a skilled artisan, David wanted to have as many allies as possible close at hand. And Joab was not the only family member he brought in from Bethlehem. David convinced Michal to bring Lydea on as their cook once they moved into their own house. He set aside several rooms for her on the new home’s first floor that gave her twice as much space as she and Jahra had shared.

David and Michal had fallen in love with the location of their home. It stood above a cliff that provided a dramatic view of the olive groves and fig trees in the plain below. Its ruggedness reminded him of the hills near Bethlehem. And it was as far from the palace as he could get. But when construction was finished, Saul had exacted his revenge by ordering David to head south to protect the border against an Amalekite incursion. Over Michal’s tearful protests the king had insisted that David leave immediately.

This latest operation had taken David only eight days, and when he returned to Gibeah after subduing the Amalekites, he found that Michal had made the new house into a home.

“So what do you think?” she asked, removing her hands from his eyes. They were in the
alliyah
, the second-story room above the gateway. It was the only space in their home that David had designed. He had placed it far from the flow of traffic, for it was to be his refuge from the noise of visitors, family gatherings, and, eventually, boisterous children. It was where he would have the quiet he needed to compose his music.

“It’s perfect,” he said, turning and wrapping his arms tightly around her. “I love it,
Eglah
.” It was his favorite nickname for her. It meant a gentle, young calf.

“I can be boisterous too, you know.” She smiled archly, pressing herself against him.

“Don’t I know it,” David said, giving her a long, slow kiss.

She had placed his padded bench and a sturdy working table directly beneath the arched windows across the room. They were the alliyah’s focal point. He had elaborated on the design of the window in her father’s chamber, expanding it to include a total of five arches and ornate marble columns that spanned the entire wall. To his right, on wooden posts, hung a variety of lyres and harps, and on the opposite wall on similar hangers were Goliath’s sword and armor, with extra posts for the personal pieces David used in battle.

“That’s for you and your captains when you need to talk in private,” she said, pointing behind her. It was a circle of comfortable oak chairs with padded arms around an oblong table.

“I like it,” he said, letting go of her so he could unbuckle Jonathan’s belt and sword. He placed it on the wall next to the monstrous curved Philistine weapon. “Did you have Joab add these extra hangers?”

She nodded. “He was thrilled to be in on the surprise. And he always takes such pride in his work.”

“Of course. You didn’t think I’d chosen him only because he was family, did you?”

“What do you like the best?” she asked, grabbing his hand and turning him to look at the tapestries that hung on each side of the window.

David looked up and pointed at the broad strip of material she had artfully draped over one of the exposed ceiling beams. It was the banner with horizontal bands—light blue on top and white on the bottom—that he had waved at the Valley of Elah.

“It looks beautiful up there. I don’t know how you think of these things,” he said. “I would never have thought of placing it there. The best I can do is picture it above a fortress city. Somewhere high and dominating—like on the hills of Jebus.”

Michal leaned her head against his shoulder. “I wouldn’t be surprised if one day it is. Once Father is gone, Jonathan will let the champion of Israel have as many cities as he wants.” She looked at the flag over their heads. “Since you like it so well and since the women have their red room, this will be your blue room.” David hugged her, kissing the tip of her nose. Michal was referring to the room set aside for the women during their monthly periods. Not for the first time, he thought to himself how glad he was not to be a woman. He would take a blue room over a red room any day.

He smiled to himself as he held her; it was wonderful to be with his wife in their own house. Though it had been months since the king had required him to play for him, while living at the palace David had been on constant alert, expecting an interruption at the most awkward moments. But he had to concede that while it was neither as good as he had expected nor as bad as he had feared, their lovemaking occasionally exceeded anything he could have imagined. And despite the pleasure he found in her, he was still plagued by two worries: that the leering face of the she-wolf would once again materialize, and that his feelings would never match the depth of hers.

He kissed the top of her head, breathing in the smell of lilacs and choosing to ignore his doubts.

Several weeks after their move, David was sitting on the window ledge in the alliyah, picking the strings of the kinnor. The song he was working on was complicated. Each stanza began with a different letter of the Hebrew alphabet. It was an interesting concept, but nothing felt right. He was concentrating so hard that when the door slammed against the wall, the lyre almost slipped out of his hands and shattered on the rocks below.

Michal rushed into the room without announcing herself. It was the first time she had entered since the day she had shown off her improvements. Her hair was disheveled, and her eyes and red cheeks betrayed the depth of her anxiety.

She began speaking the moment she entered. She spoke breathlessly, her words running over each other. “Dearest, Joab, that young stonemason from Bethlehem, has terrible news!” She was so distraught, she did not apologize for interrupting him. David pivoted on the ledge so that his back was to the window. Michal dropped to the floor in front of him, her hands gripping his knees.

“Yes, I know—my nephew,” he said. “Go ahead; just tell me the problem.” He was getting used to her overexcitement and doubted there was any real trouble.

“He overheard Father and that awful Abner talking. It was about you. That’s all he would say.”

“How did he manage to hear that conversation?”

“Sisha assigned him to work on the palace when our house was finished. He was working underneath the balcony where they were standing. You need to talk to him right away.”

“Where is he?”

“Downstairs with Lydea.”

“Tell him to come up alone. I don’t want Lydea in the middle of something that might put her in danger.”

Michal rose and went to the door. “Lydea,” she called, “send Joab up.” Before David could say anything, she told him, “I’m staying. If it has to do with you and Father, I deserve to know everything.”

When Joab walked in, David was sitting on his padded chair. Michal was standing behind him, her hands grasping his shoulders. David’s nephew glanced down at his dusty apron, rubbing his hands over it in embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” he said, looking at Michal and then at David, pushing strands of sweaty hair under the band that circled his bushy mane.

David waved away his concern. “It’s fine. Just tell me what you heard.”

Joab put his arms behind his back. “I was repairing one of the first-story windows. The king and the general walked out onto the balcony above me. They were speaking softly but loudly enough for me to hear. They were talking about one of the king’s recent—
episodes
, the general called it. He made it sound as if it had been quite serious.”

Joab scraped his teeth against the scar at the top of his lip, then exhaled and continued. “Abner wanted to call you to play for the king.”

“What was his response?”

“King Saul became extremely angry and refused.”

“What did he say?” asked David.

“The exact words?”

“Yes, Joab. Don’t spare my feelings.”

The young stonemason exhaled loudly and looked over their heads out the window behind them. “‘You’ve heard the women,’ the king said. ‘You saw how they behaved when he returned from his latest campaign. I’m sick to death of hearing that—upstart—praised from one end of Israel to another.’” As he spoke, Joab’s face was turning crimson. “‘I would die before giving that—ambitious braggart another opportunity to boast, especially at my expense.’”

Joab kept his eyes trained on something outside the window. “Abner responded that none of his men had ever heard a seditious word from you. And he reminded Saul that your music is the only thing that has succeeded in providing relief. The king simply swore more loudly and accused Abner and his men of conspiring against him.”

“That does not surprise me,” David muttered.

Joab waited for David to explain himself, but when he said nothing more, he continued his report. “The general defended you—at least I thought that was what he was doing by saying that if you harbored treasonous motives he would know. ‘You can say many things about him,’ Abner told him. ‘David may be ambitious and vain, but
he is not disloyal.’”

Now David felt his cheeks flush.

His nephew’s hazel eyes had grown bright as if guarding a secret. “It was at this point that the general said something that I think was quite important.”

David and Michal both leaned forward.

“The general laughed as though he were making a joke and told the king that
he
had more to fear from you than the king did.”

“I knew it,” hissed Michal through clenched teeth. “I knew he resented you and your success.”

David placed his hand over hers, trying to soothe her anger.

Joab continued. “Something about what the general said made the king even more furious. He stamped his foot—it made the balcony shake—then said something strange. ‘I am the only one who is to be feared. And I am the only one who has reason to fear. David is my adversary, and I will never allow him to steal what is rightfully mine!’”

“Oh, Father. Father,” Michal moaned despondently.

“It was then that I realized what Abner had been doing,” Joab continued. “He was goading the king, for he immediately responded that if it was the king’s pleasure, he had a plan to get rid of the king’s most dangerous enemy.”

David patted Michal’s hand. Her fingers were digging furrows in each of his shoulders. “So what does that old fox have planned for me?”

“He said that your brothers’ resentment was common knowledge, especially Eliab’s, and he knew how to use it to the king’s advantage.”

“It was just a matter of time,” David murmured.

Joab fingered his scar nervously. He looked as if he wished he could spare his uncle the details.

“Go on,” David urged. “Tell me all of it.”

“Eliab and Abinadab will come to take you to Bethlehem to visit your father, who they will say is dying. On the way, they will attack you and claim that they were ambushed by Philistine raiders.”

Michal let out a gasp, then wrapped her arms around David’s neck.

“What about Shimeah?” David asked.

“He was not mentioned. I would guess he was left out of the plot, since the general was not certain he could be trusted.”

David nodded grimly.

“This is where the plot becomes even more clever,” Joab said. “The general will have another squad bring back a report that they witnessed the killing and will contradict your brothers. They will make sure that Eliab and Abinadab take full blame for the murder. The general will have them executed, and his role in the plot will remain a secret.”

A cry broke from Michal’s lips. David stood, turned, and placed his hands alongside her face, wiping the angry tears from her cheeks. She pounded her fist against his chest. “I wish he would die! I’ll take care of that vile man. Jonathan and I will go to Father. We will convince him that it is the general who has designs on the crown.”