Bathsheba (9 page)

“You would not need to take many more, my lord. Just one—to replace Abigail.” Hushai lifted a shoulder in a slight shrug. “You need a woman whose heart can hold yours like hers did. Unless, like I said, you can replace Abigail with one you already have?”

Could he? He couldn’t say he had actually explored such a thought. He’d grown weary of their complaints and too used to their fake charms.

“You had something once with Michal.”

David looked away, not liking the direction of the conversation. “Michal may have changed, Hushai, but our love was never what it should have been. I do not have the energy to revisit those memories.”

Hushai shifted his bulk, leaning forward, both elbows on his knees. “Then take another wife.”

“You seem mighty sure of yourself.” David lifted the goblet from the table and took a long, slow drink. Did he honestly want another wife? But what was one more among so many, especially if he was only filling Abigail’s place? He slugged down the rest in one gulp, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Nothing, no one, could take Abigail’s place.

“I’ve had some fathers approach me. I’ve seen some of your choices.” Hushai smiled, his look mischievous.

“You have, have you?” He could not shake the melancholy thoughts but smiled anyway, holding his friend’s gaze. “Perhaps you should let me have a look at these choices then.”

Why did the thought actually interest him? Was he mad? Probably. But Hushai was right in another sense. There was no longer a reason to keep his house from growing stronger. Adding another wife would mean more sons, and spoiled or not, more sons would strengthen his kingdom.

Thoughts of the law flitted through his mind, but Hushai had a point there too. Many meant more than one. How many was too many? As long as they didn’t turn his heart away from Yahweh, the number shouldn’t matter. Nothing, no one, could shake his devotion to Adonai.

“Bring me your choices, Hushai.” He called for the servant to refill his cup and bid Hushai goodnight, his heart lighter than it had been in months.

7

Bathsheba stood in the cooking room as servants moved around her, cleaning the remnants of the morning meal to begin preparations for the New Moon feast later that evening. Despite Uriah’s absence, Bathsheba made certain the laws, purifications, sacrifices, and festivals were kept, knowing her husband would request an update and an accounting when he returned. She had already sent the invitations to her grandfather, Aunt Talia, Chava and her husband Matthias, and Rei and his new wife Jarah. All had agreed to join her for the feast that followed the sacrifices at Gibeon. The journey to the high place and back would take time, and she was restless to be off.

Yearning for her family tugged at her. Chava had been absent from their weekly visits at the marketplace, still sick with her second pregnancy, but it was not Chava’s face she missed. If Bathsheba was honest with herself, it was a glimpse of the king she longed for most. Her pulse quickened at the thought, bringing with it a troubling sense of guilt.

She moved from the cooking area toward the front of the house, pausing at her room to snatch her cloak and head scarf. Loneliness was the only explanation for the way her mind kept replaying their conversation of months before. If Uriah had never gone to battle, she would not have been on the roof at that moment or even spoken one word to the king. That her gaze had traveled nearly every day since to the spot where he’d stood was a testament to the fact that she missed her husband. Would the war never end?

She forced her mind back to examining the servants’ handiwork as she carried her cloak and scarf to the sitting room. The door to the courtyard stood ajar, letting the warm breeze filter through the house. Summer’s heat had grown oppressive in the past month, but shutting up the house was no better than letting the warmth seep inside. Bathsheba hated the closed-in feeling.

In the courtyard, a middle-aged female servant stood beating dust from a rug with a heavy wooden paddle. Tirzah lifted her head from where she stood polishing tables and lamps.

“Gather your cloak and come with me.” Bathsheba pulled her sandals from a basket by the door and sat on a low couch to tie them in place.

Tirzah tucked the linen dust cloth into her belt and hurried to her quarters. She returned as Bathsheba finished tying her other sandal.

“Leaving so soon, my lady?” Anittas’s frame blocked her path to the courtyard, his thick arms folded over his sturdy chest. Her constant protector, Uriah had urged Anittas to keep her safe.

“I promised my aunt I would stop by and spend some time with her before we head to Gibeon.”

“The master would have a servant accompany you.” He moved aside, but as she took a step forward, he followed her.

She stopped, turning to face him. “Tirzah is servant enough. I will be fine, Anittas.”

“Yes, mistress. Perhaps Shimron should go with you.”

“My cousin Rei will go with us to Gibeon. You have nothing to fear.” Uriah’s insistence that a male servant always accompany her had grown annoying. She covered her face well enough, and there was nothing about her dress to reveal what she looked like. In this Uriah was too much like her father, never giving her space to breathe, always hovering as though he feared someone would snatch her from beneath his watch or she would fly away like a bird. Ridiculous!

But Anittas would never agree with her assessment. She sighed, pulled the scarf over her head and across her face, and met the servant’s concerned gaze. “We will be well. Don’t worry so.” She patted his arm, trying to appear grateful for his fatherly concern, but was smothered by his guardedness. “My grandfather wouldn’t let anything happen to me, and he will also be joining us.”

Anittas nodded, apparently appeased. She stepped into the courtyard, Tirzah close behind. “If you send Shimron regardless, tell him to keep his distance.” She heard Anittas chuckle as she and Tirzah moved into the street.

“Why do you have the same conversation with him every time we go somewhere? You know he will send Shimron or another servant whether you want him to or not.” Tirzah tucked a basket she carried beneath one arm and came up beside Bathsheba.

“He shouldn’t worry so. And there is always the chance that one of these times he will listen to me and not feel like he has to watch my every step. He’s worse than a mother hen.” They passed the houses of their neighbors, where women sat grinding grain in their courtyards and young children played nearby. There was little place for them to run in the city except for the semi-crowded streets.

“He is doing his best to obey the master’s orders, mistress. You can hardly fault a servant for being about his master’s work.”

They rounded a corner to a busier street, the main thoroughfare that led to the king’s palace. Curiosity tugged her attention to the imposing palace gates, but she saw nothing but polished limestone and guards standing watch. She turned away, a sense of disquiet settling within her, disappointment making her uncomfortable. What did she expect—the king to be standing in the gate waiting for a glimpse of her as she passed by? Now who was being ridiculous?

She hurried along, her sandals slapping the paved stones, taking the path toward the street of merchants. A donkey-led cart clattered behind them, and they moved quickly to the side of the road to let it pass.

“Does something trouble you, mistress?” Tirzah’s soft voice in her ear made her look away. She swallowed and wrapped the scarf tighter across her face, glad for the covering to hide her expression from passersby.

“Nothing troubles me. I am only anxious to see my aunt.” She could never tell her servant her traitorous thoughts, despite the woman’s ability to keep her mouth from spilling over into gossip. Some things shouldn’t be shared, and her desire to see the king was chief among them. The very thought sounded worse than it was. She wasn’t looking for a replacement for Uriah. She only wanted someone to talk to, and he had been so captivating.

She gave herself a mental shake. No good would come of such thoughts.

Another cart rattled toward the merchants’ stalls the next street over. A baaing goat galloped after the cart and a young boy chased it, shouting. Bathsheba motioned for Tirzah to follow and kept walking.

They continued in silence until they reached a house much smaller than the one she shared with Uriah. She entered the familiar courtyard and ducked her head under the arch of the open door. The weather was warm enough that Bathsheba wished she could shed her cloak, but Uriah would want her to remain covered until she was inside the house.

“Aunt Talia. Are you home?”

Voices came from one of the rooms, and a moment later her aunt and cousin Rei hurried to her. Aunt Talia embraced her before she could speak another word. Unwanted tears came unbidden then. She hadn’t meant to show such emotion. She only wanted to talk to her aunt, to get some perspective on her life, to fill her loneliness.

“There, there.” Aunt Talia held her at arm’s length. “You come to greet me after these many months with tears? What troubles you, dear one?” She gently patted Bathsheba’s cheek.

Bathsheba shook her head, her face warming under her aunt’s touch. “I am fine, Aunt Talia, only missing you, missing everyone.” She glanced at Rei and the heat increased.

He gave her a thoughtful, curious look. “It’s good to see you, Cousin.” He smiled that boyish grin she had always loved, but his expression was not boyish at all. Rei had always loved her, had wanted to marry her, and if he’d been two years older instead of two years younger, her father might have considered a match. But it was too late to consider. She was a married woman, and Rei had a new bride of his own now.

“And you as well, Rei. How are you these days?” He had grown tall since she’d last seen him, his beard filled out, the muscles of a man beneath his tan tunic.

“I am well. I just stopped in to see if Mama needed anything from the market. I am on my way to buy some leather to cut into hinges for the doors. I have built two new rooms onto Mama’s house. Jarah is expecting.” His chin lifted in an obvious sense of pride.

Bathsheba’s heart constricted at the news. Rei had been married less than three months and already his wife was with child? Why did Adonai deny her a similar pleasure?

She smiled despite the ache in her soul. “Best wishes to you, Cousin. When can we expect this proud day?”

“Before the barley harvest.” He looked at her, then averted his gaze. “I must go if I want to make it back in time. We leave for the high place after the noon meal.”

“We will be ready,” Aunt Talia said, shooing Rei toward the door. “Now go.”

Aunt Talia cleared her throat as Jarah appeared in the room behind him, and motioned to Bathsheba. “Come into the house, dear child.”

“I will be back soon.” Rei dipped his head toward Bathsheba, kissed his wife’s cheek, then disappeared through the door.

“Come now, my dear.” Aunt Talia took Bathsheba’s arm and tugged her into the main room that doubled as a sitting and eating area. Low couches were set near a few low tables, with a lambskin draped over the stone floor. “Here, let me take your cloak.” Bathsheba undid the wrap and handed it to her aunt, who laid it over a hook in the wall. She turned to Tirzah to do the same, but Tirzah shook her head.

“I’ll just wait outside.”

Aunt Talia smiled her understanding as Tirzah slipped back into the courtyard. Aunt Talia looked at Jarah. “Daughter, could you get us some watered wine?” She glanced at Bathsheba. “Or tea perhaps?”