A Lineage of Grace (55 page)

There was a hushed silence as Adonijah turned and walked out of the throne room. Bathsheba knew there would be trouble ahead if a way to peace between the brothers could not be found.

* * *

As Solomon took over the responsibilities of kingship, David’s health declined. Bathsheba came each morning to sit with him, but it was Abishag who was in constant attendance, seeing to his most basic needs.

Bathsheba’s heart ached as she watched the man she loved slip away. She knew it was close to the end when he summoned Solomon from his duties. The king brought his brothers Shobab, Shimea, and Nathan with him.

Solomon bowed down before his father. David put his hand on his son’s head. “My son,” he rasped, tears in his eyes. “Sit and we will talk as we used to.” He smiled at the four men surrounding him.

Reaching out, David took Bathsheba’s hand. “I am going where everyone on earth must someday go.”

Solomon and his brothers began to weep.

“Take courage,” David said, directing his words to Solomon, “and be a man. Observe the requirements of the Lord your God and follow all His ways. Keep each of the laws, commands, regulations, and stipulations written in the Law of Moses so that you will be successful in all you do and wherever you go. If you do this, then the Lord will keep the promise He made to me: ‘If your descendants live as they should and follow Me faithfully with all their heart and soul, one of them will always sit on the throne of Israel.’”

Bathsheba closed her eyes, her throat constricting as she heard the encroaching weakness in David’s voice. She was losing him. After all these years, he was leaving her.

David took his hand from hers and stirred on his couch, restless, hurried. “And there is something else. You know that Joab son of Zeruiah murdered my two army commanders, Abner son of Ner and Amasa son of Jether. He pretended that it was an act of war, but it was done in a time of peace, staining his belt and sandals with the blood of war. Do with him what you think best, but don’t let him die in peace!”

“Yes, Abba.”

“Be kind to the sons of Barzillai. . . .”

“Yes, Abba.”

“And remember Shimei son of Gera, the man from Bahurim in Benjamin. He cursed me with a terrible curse as I was fleeing to Mahanaim. When he came down to meet me at the Jordan River, I swore by the Lord that I would not kill him. But that oath does not make him innocent. You are a wise man, and you will know how to arrange a bloody death for him.”

Bathsheba shuddered, but she said nothing as David sank back, breathing heavily. Turning his head, he looked at her, pain etching his face. “Ah, my love,” he said softly. His breath came out in one long, deep sigh of peace and his body relaxed.

Bathsheba rocked back and forth, her anguish so deep, the tears gathered like a hot stone in her chest. When Abishag leaned forward and gently ran her hand down David’s face, closing his eyes, Bathsheba’s grief broke free. Keening, she ripped the neckline of her dress and pressed her hands over her chest, feeling as though her heart had been torn from her. “David!
Daaaa . . . vid!
”

Her sons rose and surrounded her like sentinels. And King Solomon’s hand was gentle upon her shoulder.

* * *

David was buried with great ceremony in the city named after him. As the people mourned him, Bathsheba prayed they would remember the good he had done for them and the heart he had for God rather than the mistakes he had made.

Solomon sat easily upon the throne, his mind trained in administration by Nathan and the priests. But his throne was not yet secure. Enemies were gathering.

One afternoon, Adonijah came to see her. “My mother sends you greetings,” he said, bowing to her for the first time she could remember.

Haggith had always been as ambitious for her sons as Maacah. “Have you come to make trouble?” Should she remind him to heed the warning Solomon had given for his own sake? or hear him out to know better what was going on in his mind?

“No,” he said quickly. “I come in peace. In fact, I have a favor to ask of you.”

A favor? She tilted her head. “What is it?” she said cautiously.

“As you know, the kingdom was mine.”

She stiffened, her heart thumping. Did he mean to remind her that he had been next in line after Absalom? Or was he referring to his rebellion? He had managed to gain the backing of powerful men in the kingdom, men who had encouraged him to declare himself king. They’d all mistakenly thought David too tired and ill to notice. And even if the king did know, they figured he would not be able to muster enough strength to stop the rebellion.

Adonijah spread his hands as though to show he had no weapons. “Everyone expected me to be the next king. But the tables were turned, and everything went to my brother instead; for that is the way the Lord wanted it.”

She watched his face for some sign of subterfuge, but he seemed to accept David’s wishes.
The Lord wanted it.
The Lord had chosen Solomon to reign—Solomon, her son.
I am still amazed, Lord, amazed that You would choose the son of an adulterous woman. . . .

“So now,” Adonijah said, drawing her attention back to him, “I have just one favor to ask of you. Please don’t turn me down.”

“What is it?”

He stepped closer and went down on one knee, his face taut, his eyes dark. “Speak to King Solomon on my behalf, for I know he will do anything you request. Ask him to give me Abishag, the girl from Shunem, as my wife.”

Abishag! She searched his face and thought the emotions she saw there must be love, for she could feel his intensity and could see his hunger.

Oh, Lord, is this the way to bring peace between brothers? If Solomon gives his brother Abishag, will there be peace between them? Will that tender girl soften this man’s heart? Oh, let it be so!

“All right,” she said slowly and saw his eyes catch fire. “I will speak to the king for you.”

Adonijah said not another word, but when he rose, his lips curved in a strange smile of triumph.

* * *

Bathsheba dressed in her finest attire before going to her son, the king. She waited while he was told she requested an audience with him. When she was admitted, Solomon rose from his throne and came down the dais to her. She blushed as he bowed down before her, his entire court watching him. Smiling, he took her hand and led her up the steps with him. “Bring another throne for my mother,” he commanded.

“You show me too much honor, my son,” she whispered as a second throne was set to the right of his.

“The people must understand my respect for you.” He smiled as he seated her first. “Does the Law not say, ‘Honor your father
and
mother’?”

Tongues would never be silenced where she was concerned, and she would not be able to protect him against the prejudice held against her. Hadn’t her sons been scorned and excluded over the years? It would be best if she went into seclusion. Perhaps if she was not seen, she would be forgotten, and the stains of her sin would not seep into Solomon’s reign. “I hold no grudges, my son.”

“Nor do I, Mother.” His eyes glittered. “But boundaries need to be established. My father loved you and treated you as his queen, and so shall you be treated by all.” He let out his breath and smiled again. “Now tell me what is on your mind, for I know you wouldn’t have come without good reason.”

She laid her hand upon his. “I have one small request to make of you.” She hoped it would bring peace between him and his brother as well as kinder feelings between her and the other widows of David. “I hope you won’t turn me down.”

“What is it, my mother? You know I won’t refuse you.”

She relaxed. “Then let your brother Adonijah marry Abishag, the girl from Shunem.”

Silence followed her words, such a look of shock on Solomon’s face that her heart stopped. When he jerked his hand from beneath hers, she drew in a startled breath, confused by his growing wrath.

“How can you possibly ask me to give Abishag to Adonijah?” His voice was low and intense. “You might as well be asking me to give him the kingdom! You know that he is my older brother, and that he has Abiathar the priest and Joab son of Zeruiah on his side. If he were to claim one of my father’s concubines as his own, it would be tantamount to claiming the kingship!” He bolted from the throne. “May God strike me dead if Adonijah has not sealed his fate with this request!”

Oh no! Oh, God, what have I done now?

“The Lord has confirmed me and placed me on the throne of my father, David.” Solomon spoke for all to hear. “He has established my dynasty as he promised. So as surely as the Lord lives, Adonijah will die this very day!”

Bathsheba uttered a soft cry. She held her hand out to stop Solomon before he could say more, but he ignored her and called out for his most trustworthy servant, Benaiah. “Go
now
and execute Adonijah.”

“Yes, my lord the king!” Benaiah drew his sword and strode from the room.

Bathsheba lowered her hands to her lap and bent her head as Solomon called for another of his servants and commanded him to bring Abiathar the priest to him at once. When Solomon turned to her, she raised her head, her eyes awash with tears. “I didn’t know. I never thought this would happen.”

“Return to your chamber, Mother.” His voice was gentle again. “Rest. I’ll talk with you later.”

Thus dismissed, she rose, trembling. Frowning, he put his hand beneath her arm. “Mother,” he said softly.

“I will be all right,” she said in a quavering voice.

“Take my mother to her chamber,” he told his servant and released her into another’s care.

Bathsheba felt everyone’s eyes upon her. Lifting her head, she walked with grave dignity from the room. She said nothing as she walked along the corridors. Her son’s servant released her to the eunuch in charge of the women’s quarters. “My lady,” he said, frowning. She shook her head and walked away from him, entering her private quarters.

Her handmaiden came to her. “My lady! What is it? What’s happened?”

Bathsheba put a hand to her forehead. “Leave me.”

“But you look ill.”

She shook her head. “I just need to be alone. Please go! I’ll be all right.”

Distressed, the girl withdrew. The door closed and Bathsheba crumpled to the ground. Stifling a cry, she stretched out flat on her face, arms outstretched. “Oh, Lord God of Israel, have mercy . . . have mercy upon me.” She wept violently.

She had cost the life of yet another of David’s sons.

SEVEN

Solomon acted quickly to destroy his enemies. Adonijah’s execution sent Joab running to the sacred tent of the Lord, where he caught hold of the horns of the altar. King Solomon sent Benaiah out again. “Kill him there beside the altar and bury him. This will remove the guilt of his senseless murders from me and from my father’s family. Then the Lord will repay him for the murders of two men who were more righteous and better than he!”

Solomon then deposed Abiathar as priest before the Lord and sent him home to Anathoth to live out his life in disgrace.

The king summoned Shimei and ordered him to remain within the boundaries of Jerusalem. “On the day you cross the Kidron Valley, you will surely die; your blood will be on your own head!” Solomon set guards to watching, knowing it would be only a matter of time before Shimei disobeyed. The day he did, Solomon would execute him for daring to curse God’s anointed, King David.

Everyone knew Solomon had his eyes wide open. He’d given notice to all that this king would be watching and holding the reins of the kingdom firmly in his own hands. He would not be manipulated by lesser men.

Bathsheba felt relief rather than joy. Perhaps this bloodshed would now bring peace in Israel. Perhaps the men would no longer need to go out to war against the nations surrounding them. Perhaps there would be a time of plenty in Canaan. Men would toil and enjoy the work of their hands. Surely that would be a great blessing from the Lord.

She’d been born into a time of war. Peace had come infrequently, like a breath of spring in the midst of a long, cold winter, a sweet aroma hinting of what one day would come, but it wouldn’t last.

Not in her lifetime.

She was old now, and tired—so very tired. Strange how the past came back so vividly. Poignant memories often gripped her and made her heart ache. Ahithophel, holding her upon his lap, smiling. Her father laughing, his face bronzed by firelight. Her mother holding her close. Uriah dropping the stone she gave him and walking away. And David, always David. He lived in her dreams, agile as a deer leaping to high places, singing songs to his men and leading them out to build a kingdom for God’s people. Oh, how she had loved him—and loved him still.

“Mother,” came a gentle voice, drawing her back to the present. She blinked and turned her face toward it, smiling. She brushed Solomon’s cheek. The crown rested firmly upon his regal head. He was shrewd and would watch over and protect his brothers. He would seek the Lord’s guidance in how to make Israel a beacon to all nations. She need not worry about her sons. Hadn’t God put a protective hedge around them from the time they were babies? Hadn’t God kept them safe within the walls of a palace torn by intrigue? Whoever would have thought God would put the son of an adulteress on the throne? Who would have imagined
her
son would take the reins of this unruly nation and make it the center of civilization?

Lord, Your mercy is beyond anything I will ever understand. Far beyond anything I deserve. Help me to give my sons what they need before I go the way of all flesh, back to dust.

“Listen to me, my sons,” she said as they gathered around her bed. “Remember your father’s instructions, and don’t forsake what I’ve taught you. Fear the Lord, for He holds all power and you will accomplish nothing without Him. Treasure the Lord’s commandments more than gold or jewels. Be attentive and incline your heart to understand them. Remember the blessings and the cursings and make wise choices.”

She looked at Solomon. He was as handsome as David, but there was a shrewdness about him his father had lacked, an edge of cynicism that made her sad. Perhaps it was the way he had grown up among power-hungry brothers. She held out her hand and he sat on her couch. Taking her hand, he kissed it.

Shobab, Shimea, and Nathan moved in closer, tears in their eyes.

“You all know how much I loved your father,” she said in a trembling voice.

Solomon’s hand tightened. “Yes, Mother. No one could doubt your love for David.”

“Then please listen with that understanding and save yourselves sorrow.”

“She’s in pain,” Shobab whispered.

“Perhaps we should call her maidservant.”

“No,” Solomon said, his eyes never leaving hers. “Let her speak.”

She sensed there was little time left. “When you marry . . .” She looked around at each of her sons, and then held Solomon’s gaze. “Choose a wife carefully from among the maidens of Israel. Find a young woman who fears the Lord, a girl who is trustworthy, who works with her hands and has joy in it, who can manage a household wisely and with compassion, a girl who cares for the poor. Let her be physically strong, so she will be able to give you healthy sons and raise them up to be men after God’s own heart. But don’t go after a woman simply because she’s beautiful.” She smiled sadly. “Beauty is often deceitful and vain. You’ve all grown up with beautiful women around you. You know how treacherous they can be.” Hadn’t it been her beauty David first lusted after? Hadn’t she sensed that with her woman’s heart and opened the door for him to sin? Oh, the price they’d both paid for that! She was still paying.

Oh, Lord, let it not be so for my sons. Let them be wise and choose women of virtue, women who love You more than the things of this world, women who love You with all their heart, mind, soul, and might!

She smiled at Solomon. “A woman of virtue will be an excellent wife and a crown for your head. A crown you will look upon with more delight than the one you wear, my son.”

She looked at Shobab, Shimea, and Nathan. Fine sons, all of them, each an unexpected blessing from the Lord and evidence of His grace and mercy.
Oh, God, let them hear my instruction.
“A good wife will increase your honor at the gates. She will discipline your sons and raise them up to follow in the ways of the Lord your God. Sons like that will strengthen the house of David and bless our nation.”

There was so much more she wanted to say, but she knew better. The longer a mother spoke, the less inclined her sons were to listen. Besides, she had said it all many times before. She had been teaching them from the time they were babies at her breast, boys on her knees, or young men she’d sent away to learn from a prophet of God.
Oh, Lord God of Israel, that You should choose my sons. Your mercy never ceases.
She had done all she could to raise up her sons to love the Lord and serve Him with all their strength. She wanted these young men to be better than their father, David, whom she had loved so much. And still loved. Death could not diminish love.

“I’m very tired.” She drank in the sight of each son as he bent down and kissed her, straightened, and walked out the door, returning to his own life and choices.

Solomon lingered. “You were an excellent wife to Abba,” he said softly, tears in his eyes. “You didn’t honor him in word only, like the others. You honored him in truth and in deed.”

“I brought great harm to him.”

“And great blessing, too.” He smiled. “Four sons, one of whom will be a great king.”

“With God’s help, my son.” She kissed his hand. “Don’t ever forget who has the real power.”

Her mind drifted. She heard her mother’s voice in a distant memory.
“A king must build a strong house and preserve the kingdom.”
She gripped his hand tightly. “The life of a king is more difficult than the life of a shepherd, my son. Your father drank from another man’s cistern and poisoned his own well.” Solomon frowned. His lips parted, but she spoke quickly. “Have you ever loved someone, Solomon, truly loved her?”

“Abishag.”

The hair stood on the back of Bathsheba’s neck. She thought of David’s sending orders to kill Uriah. She remembered Solomon’s wrath the day she had gone to ask that the Shunammite be given to Adonijah as a wife.

Solomon leaned down. “No, Mother, I did not order my brother’s execution over a woman. I had Adonijah killed because he was intent upon evil. He wanted the throne. Rebellion would’ve cost thousands of lives and brought chaos to Israel. There is a time for war, Mother. God used King David to subdue the enemies that surround us. It was left to me to destroy the enemies that have dwelt among us. Now, it is time for peace.”

Let it be so, Lord; oh, let it be so.

She felt herself growing weaker. “Then keep the well clean,” she said softly. “Take Abishag for your wife, for she is everything I’ve described to you. But remain faithful to her. I know you are a king and can have as many wives and concubines as you want. I know it is the practice of kings, but don’t turn your freedom into an opportunity to sin. Rejoice in the wife of your youth.”

“I must build my house.”

Her heart sank. “No, my son. Let God build your house.”

Solomon leaned down and kissed her cheek, and she knew he was a man withdrawing from her woman’s counsel. He had entered the courts of men.
Oh, God, will he make the same mistakes his father did? Are men and women all destined to sin? Is it simply their nature to do so? For so it seems. We have the Law, but we can’t seem to keep it.

Solomon rose and stepped back. She stretched out her arm, holding fast to his hand as long as she could. “I love you, Mother,” he whispered hoarsely. “I love you, but I must go.” She relaxed her hand and his fingers slipped from hers. Her handmaiden opened the door for him and he went out.

Bathsheba sank back against her bed cushions and closed her eyes.
Oh, Lord, only You can save us from ourselves. Come, Lord, come and save us. Come and dwell among us. Walk with us again as You did in the Garden of Eden. Speak with us face-to-face as You did with Moses. Take us up to live with You as You did with Enoch! Change our sinful hearts.

“My lady,” her handmaiden said, her voice tinged with grief.

Bathsheba opened her eyes. “There’s nothing to fear.” The girl adjusted the covers, briefly covered Bathsheba’s hand with her own, and sat again. Bathsheba closed her eyes again and let her mind wander back over the past.

She remembered her mother’s angry, embittered words flung in a prophetic curse on her head.
“You’ve brought shame upon my household! . . . Fool! How many have died because of you? It will all be on your head. . . . People will spit on the ground when you pass by. . . . They will curse the day of your birth! . . . You are cursed among women! Your name will be a byword for
adulteress
! Your name will be unspoken as long as I live!”

The pain of rejection stabbed her as fiercely now as it had the day her mother had turned her back and walked out the door. Bathsheba had seen her mother only one time after that—when she lay on her deathbed, too weak to move or speak. Bathsheba had nursed her for several days, praying silently for some way to restore their relationship. But at the last, her mother had turned her face away and died without ever saying a word to her.

And now she lay quiet upon her couch waiting for her own life to end. She hoped it would be soon. She didn’t want to live long enough to see her sons fail. And fail they would because they were, after all, only human. What chance had they to live perfect lives before God with David’s hot blood running in their veins? David’s blood mingled with her own.

“Your name will be unspoken!”

Only the Lord forgets sin. Only God can take it and send it as far away as the east is from the west. Man remembers. Man recounts. Man condemns.

How many years would come and go after she was dust when men and women would still hold up her sins and wave them like a bloody banner?
Will anyone ever see more in me than that one fateful day when David saw me from his roof and called me to his bed?

She felt warm breath upon her face and a gentle kiss on her forehead.

I see.

Bathsheba’s heart raced in joy. She opened her eyes. When had it grown so dark? Her handmaiden slept in the chair beside her bed, but no one else was in the room.

She drew in her breath and smelled incense drifting in the air. It reminded her of the Tent of Meeting; sweet, so sweet, her soul drank it in. She relaxed, her mind drifting again, gently this time, as though floating in a cleansing stream.

I know they will remember my sins, Lord, but when they look upon my life, let them see what You did for an unworthy woman. Let them see the hope born from despair. If they must recount my sins, let them count Your blessings more so. You protected me. You raised me up. You gave me sons. Let my name be unspoken, Lord, for what am I that anyone should remember me? But, oh, Lord God of Israel, if they do remember me, let them open their mouths and sing praises for Your great mercy toward me. Let them see Your infinite grace and Your boundless love. And let them . . .

She sighed deeply.

. . . be encouraged.