Michal (26 page)

Paltiel’s hand on her shoulder made her jump. She scooted toward the back of the tent. “Do not touch me, Paltiel.”

She watched his dark eyes grow impatient, smoldering. He took a step forward.

“I can’t do that, Michal. Your father is waiting.”

Heat flamed her cheeks, and she set her gaze on him. “Let him wait,” she whispered. “Please, Paltiel. If you love me, take me to David.” She hated the emotion in her voice.

His sudden look of compassion and pity both comforted and irritated her.

He closed the gap farther between them and toyed with the fringe of her veil. “I don’t want to take you to David, Michal. Besides, why would I want to give you back to a man who deserted you? One who will soon be dead anyway? Do you really want to wait until you are widowed to share my love?”

She lowered her lashes and studied the sand-colored hairs curling around the cuffs of his striped robe. Silent tears clung to her lashes. Paltiel’s fingers cupped her warm cheek before reaching to remove the veil from her hair. She stood immovable as he pulled the combs from her long tresses, her tears spilling onto his arm.

Despite his tender ministrations, Michal’s tears continued. And when he donned his robe and strode from the tent to the boisterous laughter of friends and the approving backslaps of her father, Michal wept.

19

“David . . . Uncle . . . there you are.”

David stepped out from behind a rock monolith above the cave at Adullam. “What is it, Joab?”

“There is a man here to see you.”

“I’ve noticed the multitudes of men joining us. I’ll be down to meet with all of them shortly.” He looked out over the terra-cotta landscape at the valley’s winding dirt road.

Joab stood with arms crossed, his feet set in a commanding stance. “Nevertheless, I wouldn’t have interrupted you if this weren’t important, David. You need to meet this man right away.”

“Is Saul coming up the road?”

“No.”

“Then I’ll be down shortly.” He dismissed Joab with a wave of his hand and walked back to the edge of the cliff until he heard his nephew’s footfalls drift into the distance. Joab forgot his place too often these days. Sometimes David wondered who was really in charge. Would his family follow the leading of their youngest without question? He glanced over his shoulder at his secret praying spot and sighed.

O Adonai, in You I put my trust. Let me never be
ashamed.

He stood, arms raised, longing gaze toward the heavens.

Pull me out of the net that they have laid for me, for You
are my strength. Into Your hand I commit my spirit.

Peace settled, raising his confidence.

You have redeemed me, O Lord, God of truth.

With sure-footed ease, David descended the hill and entered the mouth of the biggest cave. A fire blazed in the center near the front, where several men congregated. He spotted Joab, who sprang to his feet the moment their gazes connected and motioned David toward the darker recesses of the cave. David took a torch from beside the fire and touched it to the flame, then followed.

“This way.” Joab pointed to a tunnel leading off to the right. “He traveled for two nights to get here with nothing but the clothes on his back. I didn’t know how long you would be off by yourself praying, so I bid the baggage keeper to find him a blanket and told him to rest.”

“How uncharacteristically kind of you, Nephew.” He gave Joab a pointed look, ignoring the subtle reprimand in Joab’s tone.

“It was the least I could do.” Joab’s sarcasm was not lost on David.

“So who is this man?”

“Saul’s guard Benaiah.” Joab stopped walking and nodded toward a man sprawled out on a blanket, his breathing shallow as though he were lightly dozing.

At David’s approach the guard stirred, and at the sight of David he stood. “My lord.” He knelt at David’s feet. “I have come to pledge allegiance to you. King Saul has done something . . .” He paused, his thick shoulders lifting in a pronounced sigh, as though the next words pained him. “I cannot be loyal to a man who does not follow the laws of the God of Israel.”

A throbbing began at the back of David’s neck, and the man’s expression filled him with uneasy tension. “Explain yourself, Soldier.”

Benaiah straightened and lifted a meaty hand in an act of surrender. “I am your servant, my lord. King Saul cannot be trusted . . . not after what he’s done.”

David read a message in Benaiah’s eyes he wasn’t sure he wanted to see. He scraped one hand through his already rumpled hair.

“What has he done? Tell me quickly.”

The guard’s expression grew pensive. Was that pity in his eyes? Or anger?

“He has annulled your marriage to his daughter Michal.”

“His action carries no weight. We are married in the sight of God.”

“As I said, my lord, the king does not follow the laws of our God.”

As was evidenced by the king’s relentless pursuit to kill him, but that was nothing new.

“So we’ll get her back. Take some men with you, Benaiah, and sneak into Gibeah and bring her to me. I paid a high price for her. She’s mine.” When Benaiah didn’t move, David said, “Don’t just stand there, Soldier. Do what I tell you.”

“Yes, my lord. But there is something else you must know.”

Something stirred inside him, a fear so deep he couldn’t bear to know the truth—and couldn’t bear not to. An all- over trembling spread through his limbs, and heat filled his face. “Tell me.”

Benaiah dropped his gaze as he fidgeted with his hands. David wanted to wrench the words from him and at the same time command him never to speak again. He drew in a slow breath, forcing his impatience in check.

“My lord, the king has given your wife to another man. Two nights ago she married Paltiel, son of Laish of Gallim.”

His words hung in the oppressive silence. David’s lungs burned, nearly bursting with the need to take a deep breath. The torch flickered as if the air had been drained from the small space to suffocate them all. He whirled about, gasping, and rushed through the dark tunnel to the mouth of the cave.

Oh, Adonai, not Michal. Have You not taken everything
else?
His home, his position, his good name, his best friend . . . He couldn’t take Michal too.

What do You want from me, Lord?

Like a drunken man, David staggered out of the cave, pushing past the hundreds of men flocking the area, men who had come to him for refuge. But he was nobody’s refuge. He was not a shepherd of men as Jonathan had once thought. He couldn’t even protect his own wife.

Michal.

He stumbled on, trudging blindly hand over hand up the side of the mountain again. Jagged rocks cut into his palms, and pebbles scraped his knees. Oblivious to the stinging pain, David scrambled higher until he reached his sanctuary, where he collapsed in a heap.

Michal. Oh, God, why?

He should never have left her behind in the first place. Even now, if he had even a hint of authority, he ought to be able to reclaim her. But truth be told, he had no authority, no power to command. He could not undo what the king had chosen to do. Not until he was king himself. Which could happen tomorrow . . . or ten years hence.

He laid his head in the dirt and tossed dust over his hair. It was too much. If this was the cost of gaining the kingdom, he didn’t want it anymore.

Take it away, Lord. I am not worthy to be king.

Unable to sustain his emotion any longer, David crawled over to a secluded crevice and retched.

20

One Year Later

Michal paced from parapet to twin towers to descending stairs and back again. The roof still afforded a small semblance of refuge. At least here she could escape the dim halls and prisonlike structure of the palace as well as the house she once shared with David—which she was now forced to live in with Paltiel. Despite their year together, Michal could not accept the man as her true husband, barely tolerating his presence and his touch.

She strode to the edge of the roof overlooking the road to the city gate. A lifetime had passed since the days when she stood here waiting for the harpist to comfort her, to strum his gentle fingers over the chords of her heart. Would she ever see him again? Would he want her if she did?

Unwanted memories of her first night with Paltiel and her father’s resultant glee vexed her overwrought nerves. If only she’d gone with David. Even now she could be with him, listening to the melodic strains of his sweet voice easing her worries.

“What are you doing here, Michal?” Paltiel’s harsh voice startled her, and she whirled to face him.

“I think I can go where I want to in my father’s house.” Anger flared at his intrusion. How dare he interrupt her quiet place!

“Not anymore.” He stepped closer and gripped her arm. “You’re coming with me.”

She wrenched free of his grasp and spit in his beard. “Leave me alone, Paltiel! You can’t control me.”

He wiped his beard with his sleeve, then looked at her, his stern gaze fixing her feet to the roof’s floor. “You misunderstand the meaning of husband, Michal. Perhaps David was too weak to control his wife, but I’m not.” His fingers closed over her wrist in a painful grip, and he pulled her close enough to feel his hot breath on her face. “You will go where I tell you and do what I tell you, Michal. And you will not come up to this roof again. Do you understand, Wife?”

How dare he! How dare he, a common guard, tell her, a princess in Israel, what she could and could not do!

“Why are you treating me like this, Paltiel? You got what you wanted.” She allowed her voice a hint of emotion, and tears filled her eyes.

“I don’t trust you, Michal. You’ve run away more than once.”

“And gotten nowhere.” Her voice raised a notch. “Please, you’re hurting me.”

He pulled her closer. “I’m not hurting you, Michal. Stop the pretending.”

She twisted her wrist in an unsuccessful attempt to get him to release his grip. “You are too hurting me!” The fact that he hadn’t slapped her for spitting in his face amazed her. She had treated him horribly much of the past year when most of the time, if she were honest with herself, he had done his best to be kind to her. Still, she shouldn’t belong to him. And she didn’t want to.