Michal (18 page)

The scuttle of tromping feet caught David’s attention, and he slipped into the shadows along the wall, making his way to a copse of trees behind the house. He couldn’t stay here. Despite the warm reception he’d received earlier today, the citizens of Gibeah would side with the king against him.

In the distance, the shouted orders of Saul’s men sounded like wild dogs barking and prowling, hunting their prey.

Protect me from their hatred. They seek my life to destroy
it, Lord.

Brief indecision caused his feet to slow before he lost sight of the house. His pulse could have outrun the fastest horse, and he nearly choked on his breath. The guards were circling his house now.
Please, God, don’t let them
hurt Michal.
Saul wasn’t so desperate he would harm his own daughter.

Bolstered by the certainty, David turned, pacing himself at a steady jog to the city gates. Somehow he had to get past the guards. He slowed to a walk and straightened his tunic, head held high. With a slow, steadying breath, he willed his pounding heart to calm down and approached one of the sentries.

“Good evening, Soldier.”

“Evening, Captain. Going somewhere?”

“The king has sent me on an urgent errand.” David smiled at the man and stepped forward through the gate, not waiting for permission to leave. He exuded a confidence he did not feel.

“Should you be going off alone, Captain?”

David halted, stung by the skeptical tone of the guard.

“It isn’t safe outside the city at night,” the guard continued.

David touched the leather sling at his side. “The Lord will protect me. And I am well armed.”

The guard’s silent nod was his only response, and David continued walking between the wide stone pillars. The guards up ahead opened the gate for him on a signal from their superior. Once through, David continued an even gait until the doors closed behind him and he passed from view of the guards on the towers. After one last backward glance, he broke into a solid run, widening the distance from everything he held dear.

With her last ounce of energy, Michal pushed up from the tiled floor and staggered to the cushioned couch. She swiped at the trail of tears still trickling down her face and gulped the remnants of her heart-wrenching sobs.

David. Oh, David!

Despite his protests and logical advice, she knew without a doubt she should have gone with him. A wild, tingling sensation slid down her arms, and her head felt light.

Oh, God, what will I do if the guards return? How on earth
can I face my father?

Jonathan. She could run to her brother. Surely he would protect her.

New courage rushed through her, and she sprang to her feet and ran to the bedroom. She snatched a spare tunic and robe from the peg and stuffed them into the bottom of a wicker basket sitting next to the wooden dressing table. In one glance she surveyed the room, her anxious eyes searching for anything she might need on the run with David. She carefully wrapped her makeup jars in a linen towel and laid her comb and mirror in the folds of her tunic. The rest of her belongings would have to stay.

Michal thrust both arms into her day robe, cinched it closed over her night tunic, and bent to tie one sandal on her foot. Should she try to maneuver through the window or go out the door? Would guards be watching the house? She slipped on the other shoe and walked to the window, peering into the inky darkness. Nothing moved other than the slight breeze dancing with the branches of the distant trees.

She turned, picked up the basket, and tiptoed to the door, fearful of waking Keziah. She grasped the bar and was about to lift it from the door when she heard voices and the sound of tramping feet enter her courtyard. Michal’s heart tripped, her fingers frozen to the wood.

“Open up in the name of the king!” Fists slammed against the oak door, causing Michal to drop the basket and lurch back in terror. She recognized Paltiel’s voice and couldn’t believe he would shout at her. Her throat closed, and she uttered a strangled cry. What was she going to do?

On tiptoe she raced to the bedroom window and peeked through the curtain. The incessant pounding carried through the house. Could she slide to the ground without attracting their attention? She rested a shaky hand on the latch and winced at the noticeable squeak when it turned.

Did they hear?

She cast a furtive glance behind her and pushed on the window. She grabbed the blanket from the bed, exposing the wooden idol, and tied one end to the post as David had done. The other end dropped through the opening, and Michal lifted one leg, stepping onto the ledge.

“Open up, I say!” The slamming of fists continued, and she heard Keziah in the hall outside her room, probably headed to open the door. She had to hurry.

Quickly now. One foot on the sill, one over the edge.

Her hands slipped on the woolen fabric. Heart racing, she dug her fingers into the folds of the cloth.
You can do this.

She bit her bottom lip against the urge to cry out and trusted her weight to the blanket. But she hadn’t made the knot tight enough. The material grew slack as she crept down the mud-brick wall.

No!

The loosened fabric gave way, and she skidded to the ground. She landed in the dirt with a loud thud and couldn’t stop a choked groan.

“Going somewhere, Michal?” Michal flinched at Paltiel’s hand on her shoulder. She jerked free and scrambled to her feet.

With an agility that surprised her, Michal sprinted toward the grove of trees, ignoring Paltiel’s startled look. But she had twisted her ankle in the fall and now stumbled to her knees a few paces from the guard. She shoved both hands into the dirt, overlooked the pain, and ran past him. His chuckle incensed her, and she turned toward the field. Jonathan’s house was at the other end.

If she could only make it there before the guard caught her.

She threw a quick glance over her shoulder. Paltiel had started jogging toward her with Joash right behind. Either one of them would close the gap in moments. But they couldn’t catch her. She wouldn’t let them. Her feet flew faster, every step making her ankle scream in anguish.

“Where are you running to, Michal?” Paltiel shouted, his breath coming hard.

If she dared speak, her pace would slow. Oh, why didn’t she insist that David take her with him? By now the other guards would have discovered her ruse.

Jonathan’s house seemed no closer, no matter how fast she ran. It was too dark to see where she was running. But she must press on.

Hurry, Michal. You can make it.

Her foot twisted on the uneven ground, and she heard a popping sound, which accompanied a shooting pain in her ankle. An animal-like cry escaped her lips, and she fell forward, crumpling in the dirt.

“Michal?” The guard’s voice held a surprisingly tender quality. He knelt beside her, out of breath. “Are you all right?”

“My leg. I think I broke something.” She doubled over, clutched her stomach, and fought off a sudden, overpowering wave of nausea.

“Let me see,” Paltiel commanded. His gentle hand touched her leg and probed from her knee to her foot.

“Ow!”

He squinted in the moonlight, bending closer to inspect the wound. “Can you walk?”

She shook her head. At that moment Joash reached them.

“Then I’ll carry you,” Paltiel said.

“No! Don’t touch me.” She looked to Joash. “You can help me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Michal.” Paltiel’s tone was insistent. “Joash isn’t strong enough to lift you.”

Tears slid down both cheeks. She didn’t trust this man, and she didn’t like the way he looked at her. “Then you can both let me lean on your shoulders.”

Paltiel shook his head. “It could be broken. I’ll carry you.”

Michal choked on a sob. No telling what this man would do to her. “Then take me to Jonathan. Please, Paltiel, don’t take me to my father.” She grabbed his tunic with one hand, but her strength quickly ebbed, and she released him. “Please . . .”

She felt his hands slip beneath her and lift her to his chest. The shifting movement on her leg made pain slice through her afresh. Michal closed her eyes, sinking below the surface of deep darkness.

14

Moonlight cast variegated shadows across the stony path David walked from Gibeah to Ramah, to the prophet Samuel’s home. Pain shot through his bruised feet, and his legs felt like they were on fire. He stopped only long enough to drag more air into his lungs before plunging forward, running, fleeing the pursuit of a mad king.

Ramah came into view as the pinkish gray light of dawn crept into the eastern sky. A handful of women dressed in colorful, flowing robes and headdresses already stood at the large well in Sechu. David approached them, half stumbling, and sat on a large rock. One of them, a girl with dark almond eyes and hair the color of ripened wheat, approached.

“May I get you a drink, my lord?”

Lungs silently gasping for air, David held up a hand and nodded. The girl walked with measured steps to the stone well, lowered a rope-bound clay jar, and then pulled its contents to the top of the well. She lifted the container with ease and strode toward David, handing him a dipper.

David anxiously scanned his surroundings. The area seemed safe enough. His racing heart still collided with his chest, but his breathing slowed, reminding him again of the ache in his throat. He took the dipper from the girl’s slender fingers, noting the tanned smoothness of the skin on her bare forearm. Leaning forward, he filled the scoop and lifted it to his parched lips. He drained it dry and filled it again.

“Do not drink so fast, my lord. You’ll be sick.”

David drew a deep breath and sat back on the rock, taking in the girl’s distinct beauty.

“Where can I find the prophet Samuel?” he asked, forcing himself to look away from the oriental splendor of her eyes.

“His home is within the town of Ramah, but he often spends time with his students at Naioth. If you walk down the street of the potters, turn away from the sun and walk six more paces. His home is facing east.”

David nodded and lifted both hands around the clay cup, accepting one more drink.

“Is everything all right, my lord?”

She certainly was the talkative type. He glanced into her curious eyes and smiled. “I’ve been traveling all night. Nothing is wrong that rest and a good meal won’t fix.” He willed his aching muscles to stand. “Thank you for the drink.”

Blisters on the balls of his feet made him wince, and he stumbled despite his attempt at bravado. He felt the girl’s hand on his arm. “Let me help you, my lord. My cousins will wait for me. I will take you to Samuel.”

With more strength than David would have expected, the girl supported him with her arm and began to walk with him. The scent of cinnamon wafted from either her hair or her skin—he couldn’t tell—filling him with emotions he did not want to feel. He stopped abruptly and released her arm.

“I’m fine. Truly.” He glanced at her. “Thank you.”

She stepped away from him and lowered her head, but not before he caught the blush coloring her face. Sudden pity filled him. “Whose daughter are you?”

Shy eyes met his. “I am Ahinoam, daughter of Lemuel of Jezreel. I am living in Ramah with my uncle since my father died.”