Michal (30 page)

Not a single star dotted the clouded heavens, though Jonathan searched for one, praying for some sign of God’s light to dawn in his soul. But his yearnings went unheeded, and his heart ached. He paced slowly in front of his tent, intermittently stroking his beard, then paused to gaze north past the Philistine encampment at Shunem toward the town of En Dor. If his father made it there, going and coming past the thousands of Philistine warriors, he was still placing himself in the hands of an evil woman—a witch of all things!

They wouldn’t be in this mess if his father had trusted Adonai and obeyed His word long ago. David wouldn’t be fighting against them, and he, Jonathan, would be planning to succeed his father to Israel’s throne.

Jonathan rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ward off a horrible headache. He didn’t care, really. Being king had always been his father’s ambition for him, not his. David’s coming on the scene had almost been a relief.

His restless feet threaded their way through the camp to the place where Saul would likely come the moment he returned. He twisted the belt at his waist. How much longer? Why had he allowed his father to go through with this? His own aversion to Paltiel had caused him to nearly block his ears to the man’s impassioned plea. Still, what would happen if Saul were captured and killed along the way to or from En Dor?

Once, long ago, Jonathan could have taken charge and led the armies to victory—in the days when he knew without a doubt the Lord was with him. But he couldn’t be sure of that now.

The admission made the back of his neck throb, and Jonathan stretched and tipped his head from side to side, hoping for some relief. He looked north again and squinted. There, stumbling closer in the inky darkness, were three men. Jonathan drew a deep breath and took two steps toward them. Moments later, his father fell in a heap at his feet, weeping. Jonathan looked at the ashen faces of the two sentries who had accompanied Saul, his heart sinking to his toes. “What happened?”

One of the guards just shook his head, the whites of his eyes visible in the light of the moon. The other spoke. “Samuel spoke with him.” The words were blunt and quick as though he longed to be rid of them.

“Samuel’s dead,” Jonathan said. His headache intensified. How could a dead man speak?

“The woman got his spirit to come up, and he spoke to your father.”

Saul’s weeping quieted, and he lifted his hooded head to look into Jonathan’s eyes. In that instant Jonathan saw straight through to his father’s soul.

Saul was going to die.

That was it, wasn’t it? Samuel had predicted his father’s imminent death.

The fear in his father’s gaze drifted to something akin to sadness during the silent exchange, and Jonathan’s strength evaporated like mist before sunrise.

They were both going to die.

He swallowed a leaden lump in his throat. Hadn’t he realized it all along? Hadn’t he felt it in the hot wind and known it when he held Sarah and Mephibosheth the day they left for war?

He stumbled away from the small group of men, then groped his way to the edge of the rise overlooking the enemies who would be his undoing.

Are you out there, David? Will yours be the arrow that
pierces my heart? Oh, God, may it never be!

He sank to his knees and buried his face in his hands. He didn’t want to die. He wanted to live to hold his wife and son again, to watch Mephibosheth grow to manhood, to bless his grandchildren on his knees. Unshed tears threatened to choke him.

Should he run away to save his life?

Silent sobs racked his body, draining the last of his energy, even as he wrestled with his tormented thoughts. He slowly lifted his head to gaze once more at the heavens, tears blurring his vision. He blinked and brushed them away. His heart was warmed by the sight of a million stars, which were hidden from him moments ago, now winking like distant flames across the blackest sky he’d ever seen.

Are You trying to tell me something, Lord?

Peace settled over him, diffusing his last fragment of fear. God had a plan, and somehow, though it might mean the end of his earthly life, he was part of God’s intended design. Pictures of Sarah and Mephibosheth flashed in his mind again, but the peace remained. And then he remembered his covenant with David.

David would soon be king. And David would take care of his family. Hadn’t he promised as much? A half smile curved his mouth, his heart soaring with the stars. God would not abandon him to the grave. God still cared for his soul. He raised his arms heavenward and let the words of David play a melody through his thoughts.

My soul, wait silently for God alone, for my expectation
is from Him. He only is my rock and my salvation. He is my
defense; I will not be moved. In God is my salvation and my
glory; the rock of my strength and my refuge is in God.

Jonathan bent his face to the dust and worshiped.

24

“The Philistines are coming! Hurry, grab what you can and come to the palace. We’ve got to get out of Gibeah.” Joash barked the orders, stomping past Michal, where she sat embroidering a tunic. He shouted to the servants, then came back to face Michal.

“My lady, you must hurry. Gather what you need and come with me.”

Michal’s heart slammed against her chest, and her feet felt like millstones stuck to the wooden floor. She grabbed the front of Joash’s robe. “What are you talking about? How can the Philistines be coming? We’re supposed to be defeating them!”

Joash shook his head. “Not this time, mistress. If what I’m hearing is true, your father and brothers are dead, and the Philistine army is headed this way to capture as many cities as they can. Their target is Gibeah.” He placed one hand over hers to uncurl her fingers from his robe and urge her along, but she tightened her grip.

“What about Paltiel? What’s happened to my husband?”

Joash shrugged. “I haven’t heard. Most of the casualties will take a while to discover. The important thing is, Israel is without a king and without an heir.”

The impact of Joash’s words finally registered. Her father and brothers were dead? How was that possible?
Jonathan!
A swift, sharp pain filled her. Hadn’t she sensed it in the look of resignation he’d given her at his departure for war? And Father. Was he finally at rest? Or did the demons torment him even in Sheol?

Joash managed to release her fingers from his robe and shook her arm. “We’ve got to go now, Michal.”

Her clouded eyes cleared at the sound of her name, and she shoved her grief aside and dove into action. “Keziah, help me!” The young woman came running, and the two of them began stuffing clothing and essential items into baskets.

Joash moved to the door, then threw a parting word over his shoulder. “Be at the palace before the sundial moves to the next mark. Don’t delay.”

Michal ran from shelf to cupboard, filling the last basket with food. “Let’s go.”

A few paces from the closed door, Michal took a parting look at the home she had shared with two different men for the past eleven years of her life. What would become of this place that housed so many memories? So many unfulfilled dreams.

She felt Keziah’s hand on her shoulder and whipped around to run with her maid toward the palace.

Michal felt a measure of relief the moment she stepped under the gate of her father’s fortress. Surely the strong stone walls could keep out the advancing Philistine army. Besides, a vast group of weary men carrying tents and supplies couldn’t travel that quickly, could they? On the other hand, it stood to reason that killing Israel’s king and his heirs had energized them—the way David’s slaying of Goliath that long-ago day had turned her father’s army from weak-kneed women into ardent warriors.

“Michal! Help me get the boys into the cart. Adriel’s bringing Merab.” Ahinoam’s barked order brought Michal’s wandering thoughts to the present. Michal stared at her mother, who carried two-year-old Jacob with one hand and held firmly to four-year-old Reuben with the other. She had aged twenty years since Michal had seen her two days ago. Michal rushed to her side, took Jacob from her arms, and grasped Reuben’s hand.

“Where are the others?” Michal lugged Jacob and Reuben toward the cart, her mother at her side.

“Keziah, go get Merab’s older boys. Merab’s maid has baby Joel.” Keziah hurried away. Michal lifted Jacob into the cart and looked into her mother’s dull eyes.

“Why can’t we stay here? The walls will protect us.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Michal. Your father is dead. Do you want to join him?”

Michal turned her attention to Reuben and away from her mother’s biting words. She hoisted the wide-eyed child into the cart next to his brother. In the distance, a piercing scream split the air. A mournful wail followed. What on earth . . . ?

Michal watched Joash drop a sack of grain into the cart and run toward the wailing sound. What other awful thing could possibly happen?

After settling Reuben into the straw-laden cart, Michal commanded the two children to scoot to the front and be still. Keziah came up behind them with Merab’s two oldest sons, followed by Merab’s maid carrying the infant.

“Malchi, Benni, climb in with your brothers.” Ahinoam’s tone was stern again, and Michal noted the rigid set to her jaw. The two boys scrambled over the side of the cart as if this were some grand adventure. “Michal, you get in with the children, and I’ll hand you the baby. My old bones will not be able to take riding in a cart.”

Michal started to protest but was interrupted by Rizpah, her father’s concubine. “Can we ride with you, Michal?” The woman’s sunken eyes bespoke a lengthy lack of sleep. She turned to Ahinoam. “Is that all right with you, my lady?”

Startled, Ahinoam averted her gaze. There was no love lost between the two rivals for her father’s affections. Rizpah’s humility took Michal completely by surprise. But her mother’s nod of acquiescence stunned her more. “You have to ride somewhere.”

Michal lifted one leg and began to climb into the cart when the mournful wail that had sent Joash running grew closer. She lowered her foot and whirled around. The sight sent her heart into her throat.

Mephibosheth!