Bathsheba (40 page)

In that moment she realized how loyal Benaiah truly had been. Even knowing what he did of their sin from the first moment until now, he had remained at David’s side, protecting him, and now her and her children as well.

David gave the guard a slight nod. “Your advice exceeds that of Ahithophel, my friend.” He grasped her arm and moved them down the slick bank to the water’s edge. Benaiah and several other guards lifted her onto the unsteady raft as she held Shammua. Tirzah came next, carrying Shobab. Nathan and Solomon jumped on after losing a quick argument with their father about trudging beside the raft in the water. David hopped on last and slipped his arm around her waist, holding her steady.

Bathsheba’s gratitude grew even as her stomach dipped when the raft rocked away from the riverbank. Four guards using long tree branches pushed the raft quickly to the river’s center. The dipping and swaying of the logs strangled her breath until at last, after what seemed an eternity, they arrived safely on the other side. The guards helped them disembark and positioned them all on the opposite bank, then returned to repeat the effort all over again. Most of the men jumped into the river and swam the length, some while the women and children were being transported, and the last of the men waited until all of the weaker ones were safely on land.

Bathsheba allowed David’s guards to lead her up the bank to a space of soft grass. Men built campfires to dry their clothes while the women tried to settle anxious children to go back to sleep. Exhaustion washed over Bathsheba with every lap and ripple of the river. She accepted a handful of blankets from a servant and made beds for the boys around her. In hopes that he would join her, she laid out a blanket for David at her side.

But as dawn’s gray light woke her, she found the goat-hair blanket damp with dew, stretched and still as it had been when she laid it there, the camp unmoving around her. She sat up, searching for some sign of the king, fearing he had chosen to rest this night in the arms of another.

She spotted him near the campfire, surrounded by his men, his face devoid of the worry lines so visible the night before. Relief swallowed her, draining her energy once more. Satisfied that he had not abandoned her for another wife, surprised by such a fear and her strained sense of jealousy, she lowered herself back onto the ground and begged God to get them through this.

35

David strode the halls of what had once been Ishbosheth’s sprawling palatial home in Mahanaim. Joab, Abishai, Benaiah, and Ittai, his newest general, discussed—though mostly argued—military strategies as they followed him from the dining hall to the roof over his chambers. How strange to end up here at such a time as this—where the initial battle to unite the tribes of Israel against him first began. Abner had worked hard to keep Ishbosheth on the throne in this place, kept Michal from him to secure his hold of the northern tribes. Now Michal was sequestered with the rest of his wives for their own safekeeping, while he met with advisors and numbered the troops to prepare for war yet again . . . this time against his own son.

He curled both hands into fists, then released them, forcing his thoughts to calm. Would the conflict never cease? Would the consequences for his sin forever rob him of the blessings he’d so briefly known?

He stepped into the outer courtyard, where the night breezes swept beneath his soft linen robes and crept up from his feet, cooling his hot blood. Deep struggles moved within him like violent waves of the sea, betrayal and pain too strong for words. As he reached the steps to the roof, a servant approached, hurrying from the opposite direction. Benaiah stepped in front of David, hand on the hilt of his sword.

The servant fell to his knees. “My lord king, I come with news.” He touched his head to the hard mosaic tiles of the court, his breath coming fast.

“Rise and speak.” The men’s arguments coming from behind him ceased as the servant jumped up, keeping his gaze averted to the floor.

“My lord, there has been trouble among the court of women.”

“When has there
not
been trouble among the women of the king’s court?” Joab’s comment was accompanied by soft chuckles.

David’s mouth tipped in a wry grin. Women had been his undoing from the very first, but he’d grown accustomed to their wiles, and was not so easily swayed since Bathsheba. Perhaps she alone was his true undoing.

“What have they done? Tell me quickly.” He was in no mood for some petty grievance, and Hannah usually brought those to his attention. This servant was one of the palace guards. David’s hackles rose.

“My lord, the men are bringing her back to the city gates now. I don’t know how she managed to slip away unnoticed.”

David’s senses went on alert, and he straightened, giving the guard a stern look. “Speak plainly, soldier. Who slipped away?”

“The princess Maacah, my lord.”

Absalom’s mother. No doubt she had fed her son’s rebellion against him all these years. “Which way was she headed?” Geshur, the home of her father Talmai, was farther than Jerusalem, where she could rejoin Absalom.

“Impossible to tell, my lord. She didn’t get far enough to head north or south.”

“Banish her back to Geshur and be done with her,” Abishai said, his bitter tone matching the anger in David’s heart.

David gave his nephew a look. If not for the advice of his commanders and counselors, he would never have married the woman. But that was not to be undone now.

“Double the guard at her door. She is not to leave even to eat without my approval. I will deal with her later.”

He climbed the stairs to the roof, and his commanders quickly followed, taking seats along the parapet in a circle around David.

“The men have been divided, as you said, my lord,” Joab said, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankles, the tassels of his robe brushing the dusty roof. The servants had swept, but the building was in disrepair, and needed whitewashing and new mortar where cracks had crept in. “Absalom has gathered all Israel to himself at Gilead. They are sure to head north, and it is time we set out to meet them.”

David nodded. “How soon?”

“We can go tomorrow.”

David lifted his gaze to the stars, his thoughts turning with a thousand regrets. “Tomorrow it will be.”

Surrounded by her personal guards, Bathsheba walked between Solomon and Nathan to the outer courtyard where the troops were lined up, waiting for the king’s orders to move out. She caught sight of Michal and Abigail’s young namesake whispering and smiling at whatever amused them. A wistful feeling swept over her that she had no daughter to share such intimacies, or a friend her equal to discuss her own female woes. Aunt Talia had passed on a few years back, and Chava rarely visited now that Bathsheba was chief wife to the king. She had all the power she could want to command a bevy of servants, but she had no friends with whom to offer good-natured complaints. Her chest lifted in a sigh, and she felt Solomon’s hand on her arm.

“May I go and speak to my sister, Ima?” Solomon’s gaze drifted to his half sister Abigail as the sound of the shofar blew, announcing the king’s arrival at the courtyard.

Bathsheba glanced at her son. His interest in young Abigail was pure innocence at his age, but she couldn’t help the niggling worry reminding her that Amnon probably once viewed Tamar thus, years before he became infatuated with her. If Solomon would be king, he would be better off keeping himself to one woman, but of course, as king, he would be expected to make marriage treaties to keep peace. She must teach him what to look for and what to avoid in a wife, and to limit his harem to as few as possible.

“Later, my son,” she whispered as the crowd quieted. She moved closer and stopped near the rim of guards encircling the king.

“I myself will surely march out with you.” David’s commanding tone sent a pang of fear to Bathsheba’s heart. If David died, all would be lost.

Joab and Abishai stepped from the head of their ranks and walked to where the king stood. Joab dipped his head and fell forward on one knee. “You must not go out with us, my lord. If we are forced to flee, they won’t care about us. Even if half of us die, they won’t care.”

“But you are worth ten thousand of us. It would be better now for you to give us support from the city,” Abishai finished for his brother.

Bathsheba saw the lines deepen on David’s brow and looked from the king to his nephews. David was not much older than Joab and Abishai, but his years as king had begun to show in the soft wrinkles of his skin. Silver now streaked his hair, and his gait held a slowness borne of sadness and defeat.

The sword will never depart from your house.

The prophet’s words struck like arrows to her heart.
Oh, Adonai, how long? Will we ever know peace again?

“I will do whatever seems best to you,” David said, quenching her thoughts.

He turned, moved down the courtyard steps to the street, and walked along the road with the troops toward the city gate. Bathsheba followed with Solomon and Nathan in tow, guards before and behind her. When they reached the gate, the king stood to the side, and Bathsheba pulled her sons aside as well, staying out of the way of the guards. She glanced back to see that the other women had done the same.

The men began to march past the king in units of hundreds and thousands as Joab, Abishai, and Ittai stepped forward, awaiting David’s last commission.

“Be gentle with the young man Absalom, for my sake,” David said loudly, repeating the command three times. Bathsheba caught the surprised looks, the hints of frustration, on the faces of the soldiers, that the king should tie their hands this way toward the very enemy who sought their lives. But no one dared question the king. They merely nodded and moved ahead through the gates.

A tug on her sleeve made her look down into Solomon’s earnest gaze. “Why does Abba give such a command to his men? Doesn’t my brother seek the king’s life and ours as well? Such an enemy must die!”

“Hush now! The king could hear you.” She placed a hand on his shoulder and urged him to move away from the gate, out of David’s earshot.

Nathan at his side, Solomon dutifully obeyed, glancing every now and then over his shoulder toward his father. “He carries a great burden,” he said, halting their walk a few moments later.

Bathsheba squatted, facing her sons, meeting the gaze of first one, then the other. “It is not easy to be a king,” she said, directing her words now to Solomon alone. “Your father has many sons and he loves them all, though one of them is seeking to take his life. He needs his other sons to understand and accept his judgments.” She took Solomon’s hands in hers and turned them over. They were the hands of a child, not those of one callused by war or hard labor. One day he would wield a scepter of peace. If he lived long enough to see such peace.