Bathsheba (42 page)

“Home,” he said, his tone suddenly wistful. “To Jerusalem.”

“Yes, to the City of David.”

Sounds of lutes and lyres, trumpets, and festival drums filled the night air around her, masking the heavy scent of anxiety hovering beneath the surface of David and his men. Bathsheba stood near the king, the Mount of Olives once again securely beneath her feet. She looked down on the city of Jerusalem, the golden rays of its lamps making it shine like a jewel in the king’s royal crown. David’s greatest glory.

But that glory could be short-lived if David couldn’t bring the tribes to unite under his rule once more. After months of waiting, David had finally secured enough loyalty from Judah and Israel to bring him back to his capital, to rule as he once had. Malcontents had been among those present, and now a new threat had sent the northern tribes to abandon their king once again.

She felt her spirits sag despite the festive atmosphere, knowing David would not have peace until the army had been gathered and the man leading the rebellion destroyed.

She turned at a touch on her arm. “Tirzah, there you are. Is everything all right?”

Tirzah shook her head, glancing over her shoulder, then leaned close to Bathsheba’s ear. “There is trouble. Maacah is not so well guarded as the king thinks. She is spewing rebellious words among those who will listen. With the discontent already brewing . . .” She paused and darted quick looks around her again. “I thought you should know.”

Bathsheba met her maid’s gaze and held it, seeing no guile in her expression. Maacah could cause David further harm, and what more did the woman have to lose? But would the king do anything about it on such a day? He had already pardoned Shimei, the man who had cursed the king the day they fled from Absalom. And with this new man, Sheba, causing the men of Israel to run after him, a woman’s troublesome words were not something he would want to hear.

She nodded without speaking, then looked in David’s direction. He had already started down the mountain, his mighty men and closest advisors surrounding him. Impossible to get close to him to tell him such a thing now. She would wait until he came to her tonight. Surely he would come.

The trek through Jerusalem’s streets bore a happier note than the weeping that had accompanied them a few months earlier. She would be so glad to go home! She hurried closer to Tirzah and her sons as they walked, but as the group slowed nearer the palace, the sounds of the women of David’s household grew closer. She glanced behind her, catching the expressions of relief and exhaustion on the faces of David’s wives.

Michal sidled up next to her, offering a congenial smile. “I never went with David during his early years of exile.” She touched a hand to her damp brow and brushed back loose strands of gray-tinged hair beneath her veil. “I don’t know how he survived it, but if I had it to do again, I would have gone with him.” She glanced up ahead where men from the city had joined David at the gates to the palace grounds. “Now I’m too old, and I must admit I am glad to be home.” She turned and offered Bathsheba a smile. “You are blessed of Adonai to have so many sons.”

Bathsheba looked at the woman, David’s first love, feeling a sense of sorrow, imagining how hard it must have been for her, for all she had been through.

“Regrets are difficult taskmasters,” Michal said, her gaze intense for the briefest moment before it skipped beyond Bathsheba toward the king again.

Bathsheba followed Michal’s gaze, her heart yearning for David, longing to feel the strength of his arms around her, to allay the fears she fought daily for the welfare of her sons. To know she belonged to him above all others.

“He loves you, you know. Don’t let yourself lose him like I did.”

Bathsheba turned at Michal’s quiet words, but before she could respond, the woman had slipped back into the crowd of David’s wives and children. Bathsheba’s gaze followed her to where she joined Abigail’s daughter, their moment of friendship gone. Perhaps she should do more to seek the woman out. Friendships would not come if she did not do her part.

She glanced at the other women as the crowd moved forward once again, seeing the bitter Ahinoam and the angry Maacah. Haggith, Abital, and Eglah hovered near their own children, each woman living in barely tolerable companionship, always looking for a way to catch the ear of the king. An ear she had almost exclusively.

She sighed, picking her way ahead of the women, urging Solomon and Nathan to guide her forward. At last she spied Benaiah and caught his eye. He stepped aside, allowing her a better view as guards escorted ten concubines from the palace and brought them to stand before David.

“Absalom pitched a tent on the roof in the sight of all Israel,” a guard said as the women knelt, lowering their faces to the dust. “On the advice of Ahithophel, Absalom took each one of them to his bed to lay claim to the throne, to secure his position as king in your place.”

Bathsheba’s heart twisted, and she feared the fate that awaited her grandfather after all he had done against David. He deserved death. Would she be able to keep David from commanding it after such advice? She watched the muscles clench along his jaw, his brows drawn low, his expression a scowl. But a moment later, he crossed his arms, straightening, only a hint of sorrow evident in his gaze.

“Take these women to quarters outside of the palace. Place them under guard.” He paused as though weighing his next words. “They are not to leave the house nor to see my face again, but to live as widows the rest of their lives.”

Soft weeping broke out among the ten women as guards stepped forward and escorted them out of David’s presence. He stood in the courtyard looking up at the steps to the portico, his chest lifting in a sigh. Another guard approached and spoke something in Benaiah’s ear. Benaiah glanced at Bathsheba, then motioned her forward to join David.

David turned when he saw her, his smile welcoming. “We’re home, beloved.”

“My lord,” Benaiah said before she could respond, “there is news of Ahithophel.”

David slipped his arm around her waist and drew her to him. “Walk with us, Benaiah.”

The guard nodded and followed them as David led her up the steps into the gilded audience chamber. The rooms looked exactly as they had left them, all traces of Absalom and his men gone.

David let out a slow breath, then faced Benaiah. “Tell me what you know.”

Benaiah bowed his head, then looked up, his expression stricken. “It appears that soon after Absalom took over the palace and slept with your concubines, Ahithophel saw that this was the only advice of his that your son would heed. When Absalom listened to Hushai and would not pursue you the night you fled, Ahithophel mounted his donkey, returned to his home, set his house in order, and hanged himself.”

Bathsheba sucked in a breath as David’s grip tightened at her waist. She leaned into his strength, her own failing her. He guided her toward the hall to her rooms, glancing back over his shoulder at Benaiah.

“Ahithophel betrayed my trust. His end is judgment of its own.” David paused as if the whole thing were weighing him down. “Make sure Eliam knows.”

“Yes, my lord.” Benaiah spoke to one of his men and then continued with them down the hall at a discreet distance.

David stopped at the door to the gardens connecting their rooms. He opened the door to let her through, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“My lord, there is more.”

He tensed, and she wondered at the wisdom of telling him just now. “What is it?” His tone was gentle, but she sensed the strain of his patience.

“Maacah. She is angry and—”

He held up a hand and touched a finger to her lips. “I have already dealt with her, beloved. My mercenary soldiers are more loyal than half of Israel. Maacah’s words did not go far. She and her daughter will be kept under strict guard until I can decide whether to keep her under my thumb or send her back to her father.” He leaned forward and kissed her nose. “Do not trouble yourself over her on my account.”

She nodded and moved into the gardens as he motioned for her to do so. The calming scent of almond blossoms and the sweet perfume of incense brought back the memories of the first time he had brought her here. He led her to the same bench where he had first wooed her.

“Sit with me, Bathsheba.” He sank onto the bench and pulled her down beside him, his arm coming around her. “It is good to be home.” He exhaled deeply, his sigh weighty yet somehow relieved.

“It is good because you’re still here.” She shifted to face him, touching his cheek, her fingers drawing a line in the soft curve of his jaw. “I feared I would lose you.”

He smiled, his eyes closing, and she knew he enjoyed her soft caress. When he looked at her again, she couldn’t pull away from the love in his eyes.

“In all the years I have walked on this earth,” he said, taking her hand and pressing the tips of her fingers to his lips, “I have accomplished many things. My enemies are subdued—and we will conquer this latest threat, I assure you.” She gave him a reassuring smile. “Nations I did not know submit to me and fear my name. And Adonai has promised to build a house for me. One day, long after Solomon has been laid to rest, a new king will come from my descendants and sit on my throne, and all people on earth will obey him.” His look grew intense, and he squeezed her hand. “Your son Solomon will be the one to build a temple to Adonai’s name, and he will rule in peace after me.” He paused, looking beyond her as though seeing something in the distance.

She turned to follow his gaze, but saw nothing. She looked back and noted the sheen of tears on his lashes, but his tender smile told her that they were not tears of sorrow. “What is it, David?”

“In all of my accomplishments, I secured many wives and God has given me many children, but none of them compares to you, beloved. I took you wrongfully, and I deserved a thousand times over to lose you. God knows how I begged Him not to take you from me. Your worth is far above rubies, and none other in all of Israel compares to you.”

She stroked his cheek, her own tears wetting her lashes.

“You are my most beloved, Bathsheba.”

The words sang around her in the music of the night, filling her heart with joy.

“I love you, David.”

His kiss silenced any lingering doubt.

37

Eight Years Later

Jewel-bedecked camels from Rabbah in the land of Ammon came bearing King Shobi, son of Nahash, brother of the former deposed king, Hanun. His entourage strode through the palace gates, where they sank to their knees in the courtyard of King David. Atop the gangly mounts, a tentlike covering secluded its prized passenger, Naamah, the princess of Ammon. Behind her on less adorned camels came ten maids, while fifty guards followed before and behind.