Bathsheba (33 page)

“I would be honored for my lord to bless his son.” She released the child’s grip from her breast and covered herself, then wiped the child’s mewing mouth and handed him to Tirzah, who placed him in David’s arms.

David sat in the chair opposite her and held the boy, looking at him with a mixture of joy and pride. “Your father loves you, little one.” He planted a kiss on the boy’s forehead. “More than that, Adonai loves you, and you will be blessed of Adonai.” He met Bathsheba’s gaze and smiled. “I had a visit from Nathan the prophet moments after Benaiah brought word that the child was safely born. Adonai sent him to tell us to name him Jedidiah, for Adonai’s sake, because Adonai loves our son.”

“Jedidiah is a good name, though I had planned to name him Solomon.”

“And Solomon he shall be. He is Jedidiah only to the Lord.” He looked at the babe and stroked the boy’s cheek with his finger, then looked at her, his eyes glistening. “God’s mercy is new every morning, beloved. This child is the start of a new life for us.”

“Adonai has forgiven,” she whispered, though by the silence in the room, she knew everyone could hear her.

“And He has sent us His love.” Their gazes held then, and Bathsheba sensed that she was the only person on earth that mattered to the king at that moment. “We are blessed of Adonai, beloved,” David said, handing the hungry child back to Tirzah to give to her. “And I am the most undeserving of all men to have you.”

He looked at her as though he wanted to kiss her, but she knew he dare not break Adonai’s laws of birth. Not after God had granted so much. She snuggled Solomon close as David left her apartment, marveling in the baby’s perfect beauty and Adonai’s perfect grace.

“I’ll bet this boy grows up to succeed David as king,” Chava said, sinking down beside Bathsheba, all previous uncertainty gone. “You’ll be the most treasured woman in David’s household!”

“Treasured perhaps, but only by the king.” For despite the promises David had made and the blessing of Adonai through Nathan the prophet, Bathsheba still had to live in a house where David was not hers alone. And if men like her grandfather still held her sin against her, what of others?

The sword will never depart from your house.

The curse of their sin would remain. She kissed the baby’s head and sighed.
But it will not touch you, my love.
By God’s grace, she would see to it.

30

Distant, urgent shouts woke David with a start. He jerked upright, yanking the covers, his heart pounding swift and heavy. He turned to pull the linen sheet over his wife again, but Bathsheba was already awake, holding Solomon, quieting his soft cries. A sigh escaped him with inexplicable relief. She was fine. She turned to face him.

“The babe?”

“He is well.” She patted Solomon’s back, whispering soft words in his ear, but her efforts did nothing to still the sounds emerging from beyond her door. Joab’s voice registered in David’s sleep-induced fog, with Benaiah’s low growl responding in kind.

David swung his legs over the side of the bed and donned his night robe, loosely tying a knot at the waist. Whatever it was had better be good to disturb him here. His guards knew better than to interrupt his time with this wife. A privilege he allowed himself to make up for all she had lost. When he was with her, his time was hers alone.

He hugged her waist and kissed her cheek as he passed her, then walked to the door at the far end of the sitting room that led to the palace hall. His other wives lived in smaller apartments throughout the spacious palace, far enough apart to keep the peace. Something he had learned the hard way in Hebron.

The arguing grew intense as he reached the door. He opened it to find Joab standing nose to nose with Benaiah. It was a wonder his nephew had not killed his favored guard yet, as he had done to so many others who had gotten in his way over the years. But Joab knew he already walked a thin line where his royal favor was concerned. The man deserved execution for what he’d done to Abner. But Joab knew David needed him. A fact David sorely despised.

“My lord king,” Benaiah said, dipping his head. “We did not mean to disturb you.”

Joab glared at the man, then met David’s gaze. “Yes, we did.” He stood straight, his shoulders flung back, chin up in his typical defiant pose.

“Has there been a death?” Nothing else could account for the distant wailing, and his stomach did a little flip at the thought of yet another loss. But if this were true, why not just wake him and tell him privately? Why argue about it and disturb the whole household?

“Worse than death, my lord.” Joab’s stern glance at Benaiah made his stomach dip again, then tighten into a hard knot.

“An invasion? A kidnapping? What?” Memories of Abigail’s kidnapping surfaced, but he was not at war and his wives were safe in his own house.

“May I come in?” Joab, not usually one to ask, suddenly looked haggard and uneasy.

David stepped back, allowing him entrance. Joab would have suggested a meeting elsewhere if Bathsheba should be kept from the news. David glanced at Benaiah and gave a slight nod of thanks, reading wariness and something more in the man’s expression. Benaiah would explain his reticence to allow Joab entrance if David asked, but at this moment David didn’t care. He followed Joab into the room and took a seat on the couch nearest the window, then motioned for Joab to sit opposite him. His wiry general perched on the edge, fidgeting as if he didn’t know where to place his hands, his beady eyes penetrating, accusing.

David crossed his arms, unwilling to let this upstart nephew rattle him. “Tell me quickly. Obviously this is important.”

Joab nodded. “There is trouble.”

“I gathered that. So tell me since you’re here now.”

“Amnon has forced Absalom’s sister Tamar to bed with him and now refuses to marry her.”

David broke out in a sweat that lifted the hairs on his skin. He leaned heavily into the couch, the blow holding him there. The words registered in painful, vivid images. In slow, deliberate motions, he uncrossed his arms and leaned forward, resting his head in his hands.

Oh, Adonai, what madness is this?

He closed his eyes, remembering the messenger Amnon had sent bringing word that he could not come to court because he was too ill to get out of bed. Concerned, David had gone to him. He had suffered enough loss, and he feared . . . always feared the curse Adonai had placed on his household.

Amnon had not seemed terribly ill, and his request for Tamar was somewhat unusual. Perhaps it was the guilt David still felt over the incident at Rabbah, when Amnon had been caught as an ambassador and humiliated before the court of the Ammonites. If he had exacted a more swift revenge for Amnon’s sake . . .

But this! There was no excuse for what Amnon had done. Harming Tamar like this, the damage irreparable. David lifted his head, rubbing both temples. He leveled a measured gaze at Joab.

“Why would Amnon do this?” He could easily guess why Amnon wanted Tamar. She was the most beautiful of David’s daughters, a princess worthy of a king’s dowry.

“You should ask him yourself.”

“I’m asking you.” David stood, his simmering anger rising, bubbling like heated water. He paced to the window and stared into the night. He sensed Joab at his back.

“You allowed Tamar to bake cakes for him. Didn’t the request strike you as odd?”

The sound of Bathsheba’s footsteps coming into the room made him turn. Her arms no longer held Solomon, her face wide-eyed and ashen. She would blame herself for this, and he would take it from her, knowing that he alone had had the power to stop it. Amnon had asked to see a virgin sister in his own home, an unthinkable act without chaperones. David had foolishly expected the servants to be chaperone enough.

“Tell me what happened.” He sank down onto the couch again and motioned for Bathsheba to join him. Joab perched on the edge opposite them once more.

“Maacah and her maids are the ones you hear weeping and wailing in her apartment.” Joab motioned behind him. “Your nephew Jonadab, Shammah’s son, came to me with the news.”

“Get to the point.”

“Tamar did as you asked and went to Amnon’s house to bake cakes for her brother, who pretended to be ill.”

David felt the blood drain from his face as Joab spoke.

“That’s right, your son was not ill at all. It seems he and Jonadab concocted the idea to get Tamar to Amnon’s house so he could lie with her. Amnon got Tamar to bring the cakes into his bedchamber, sent his servants from the house, and forced her. She begged him not to do such a wicked thing. She even offered to become his wife, but after he finished with her, he hated her and put her out of the house. He refuses to marry her, despite Jonadab’s pleading. She tore her robe, put ashes on her head, and walked to Absalom’s house weeping.”

David stood again, the anger pumping through him hot and fast. His hands clenched in and out, and he cursed the day his son was born. He strode through the room to the adjacent gardens, seething, fury making him pace back and forth, faster with every turn of the path. He kicked at loose gravel and whirled about, nearly lifting the clay pots and smashing them among the cobbled stones, but thought better of it and moved back into the house. Joab stood waiting at the window, and Bathsheba sat on the couch, hands clasped in her lap, tears drawing thin lines down her soft cheeks. His anger seeped from him like a drink offering poured out on dry ground.

Joab turned, his beady gaze expectant. “What will you do?”

It was a challenge more than a question. The act Amnon had committed was an abomination, a curse. If he counted Amnon rebellious, he would demand his son’s death. If he followed the law regarding violation of a virgin, he should demand Amnon marry the girl, forfeiting any right to later divorce her. At the very least, he should cut Amnon off from the people, dismiss him from court, and never see his face again.