Michal (35 page)

Michal awoke from an uneasy sleep. Was it morning? One glance at the open window showed no sign of dawn. Middle-of-the-night stillness wrapped like a shroud around the house, making Michal’s skin prickle with wariness.

She strained to listen. Was that rumbling the sound of trotting horses? She pushed up on one elbow. Someone was coming. Would Paltiel be traveling in the dark?

Fear plucked at her heart. She walked to the door and tested the bar that blocked the entrance. Maybe she should close the window.

On tiptoe she darted across the floor, hoping Joel didn’t waken. She peeked through the inky darkness one more time. Even the moon offered little light to illuminate the intruders. She pulled the shutters closed over the window.

Heart pounding, Michal flattened herself against the wall and listened. The horses came to an abrupt stop outside her door, and running feet approached. She expected a violent banging on the wooden door, but a quiet tapping met her ears instead. Unsteady limbs carried her closer.

“Michal?” Paltiel’s unmistakable voice filtered through the door.

Michal’s trembling fingers fumbled with the bar until at last she lifted it, opening to Paltiel, Abner, and a few of their men. Paltiel’s hungry arms dragged her to him, embracing her in a grip that feared to let go.

“What are you doing here at this hour? I thought you were a group of thieves.” Michal willed her racing heart to regain a normal rhythm.

“We came from the battle,” Paltiel said, pulling in a long, slow breath. “We walked back to where our horses were tethered and hurried home.”

She studied the worry lines along his forehead, trying to read his expression in the dim light. “I take it things didn’t go well.”

“David’s forces killed nineteen times more of our men than we did of his,” Abner said, his face sullen.

“Worst of all, Abner was forced to kill Asahel, Joab’s brother.” Fear flickered in Paltiel’s dark eyes. He looked at Michal and gripped her shoulders. “Lay out some extra mats for our guests, Michal. Abner and his men will sleep here until dawn.”

His sudden commanding tone unnerved her. She was too tired to be ordered about. But it would do no good to argue. There were no servants to do the work for her, so she walked to a corner of the room to retrieve a stack of blankets. She spread them out across the wooden floor and slipped into the back room with Joel.

The muffled sound of voices kept her awake, and she crept closer to the door to hear what they were saying.

“You know your life is in danger now,” Paltiel said. “David or Joab will surely retaliate for Asahel’s death.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Michal could hear the bitterness in Abner’s voice.

“All the more reason to keep David from reigning throughout the land,” Paltiel said with a yawn.

“Ishbosheth will never gain the following David has.” The pitch in Abner’s voice dropped so low that Michal edged closer to the door, struggling to hear.

“He must! David cannot rule here.”

Silence followed her husband’s outburst, and Michal held her breath, aching to know what Abner was thinking.

“Don’t get yourself all in a lather, Paltiel. I’m working on a solution.”

What solution? Michal wanted to barge into the room and demand answers. But the men’s voices had drifted to silence, and before she knew it, the soft sound of their steady breathing pervaded the still night air.

It was obvious that Abner and Paltiel were more afraid of David now than they had been before they marched off to war. And Abner was right. Her brother would never be able to hold the kingdom against the charismatic personality of her former husband. Besides, hadn’t God promised David the throne? But Abner and Paltiel could both die if David succeeded. The thought sent a shiver down her spine.

She crept back to the mat that hugged the wall in Joel’s room. The boy rolled over in his sleep, and Michal laid her exhausted body across from him, closing her eyes. Dawn’s pink shadows peeked over the horizon before Michal finally succumbed to slumber, her restless mind wondering how long they could keep fighting Adonai’s plans.

28

Six Years Later

A clap of thunder signaled the coming storm, and Paltiel wondered if the sky could sense the raging of his own heart. If only he could do something to secure his future with Michal. Why did fear immobilize him?

He stood under the overhang of the flat roof of Ishbosheth’s spacious home, debating with himself what to do next. Six long years had passed since the start of the civil war with David’s kingdom, since that fateful day when Abner had killed David’s nephew Asahel. They’d finally managed to rally enough support to crown Ishbosheth king of Israel four years after that battle. Not soon enough. And his kingdom had been standing on weak knees from the start.

Paltiel shivered. How many battles had he and Abner executed to little or no avail? How many men of Israel had died trying to keep David’s men from advancing? Yet David’s kingdom only grew stronger, and Abner’s promised solutions had gotten them nowhere.

He stepped farther beneath the roof’s protection, taking in the guards flanking each entry. Ishbosheth lived in fear for his life—when he wasn’t distracted by food and drink and pleasures that had nothing to do with making the kingdom secure. The new king was late to rise—not an uncommon occurrence—and Paltiel wondered if Abner had the same problem this morning.

The clouds shifted and raced across the heavens as the wind picked up. Paltiel clutched the folds of his robe and cinched them tighter against his neck, scanning the short distance from Ishbosheth’s home to Abner’s. Between the two larger buildings, smaller buildings housing Saul’s wife, his concubine, Rizpah, and Ishbosheth’s wives stretched in an L-shape, creating a link from the king to his general. Abner’s home continued the L-shape like a sprawling arm, as though the general’s home was of equal importance to Israel’s king. The setup was far different from Saul’s fortress. But then Ishbosheth was not the warrior and leader his father had been.

And most of Israel knew it.

A sudden gust of cool wind slapped Paltiel across the face while rain dropped wide circles over the courtyard’s stones. Through his peripheral vision he caught a flash of red and whipped his head toward the outcropping of buildings. Was that Abner leaving Rizpah’s apartment? The general’s new red-crested robe could point him out in any crowd, and Paltiel squinted to make sure it was truly him.

Sure enough. Despite the rain, Abner did not appear to be in a hurry. In fact, he lifted his chin and flung his shoulders back, strutting like a bridegroom emerging from his wedding tent. Could he have spent the night with Rizpah? Such an action was akin to laying claim to the kingdom! Was this Abner’s ultimate solution—to take over as king?

Paltiel rested one hand against the mud-brick wall, his heart pounding. If Abner took over the throne, assuming Israel would follow him, they might stand a chance against David.

The
rat-a-tat-tat
of water on the roof drowned out all sound, and Paltiel took a step backward away from the spray dampening his clothes. He bumped into a solid body and whirled around, wondering who would have snuck up on him without his notice. Ishbosheth’s fiery gaze, so like his father’s, cornered him.

“Did my eyes deceive me, or was that Abner coming from the home of my concubine?”

Paltiel swallowed. He had never been afraid of Ishbosheth. The man didn’t seem to possess the ability to invoke fear. But now the venom in his tone and his crossed arms bespoke fierce determination that could ruin everything.

“It could have been. One can never be sure from this distance,” Paltiel lied.

Ishbosheth shook his gray head. “Yes, you can, Paltiel.” He paused. “Abner wants my throne.”

Flames exploded in Ishbosheth’s pale brown eyes before he turned and walked down the hall to his audience chamber. Through the slowing rain Paltiel glanced back over his shoulder toward Abner’s house. The general stood in the arch of the door, smiling.

Changing shadows moved over the walls in Ishbosheth’s audience chamber. Few lamps were lit despite the dark day, and Paltiel’s skin shivered with impending dread.

“When we reach the throne, do as I do,” Abner commanded in a hushed whisper.

“Don’t I always?” The words tasted bitter on Paltiel’s tongue.

Abner leveled him with a stern glance. Let him be angry. If this didn’t go right, he’d have only himself to blame. Besides, it would be nice if the man would let him in on what was going on.

They came to a stop several paces from the raised dais where Ishbosheth sat, his expression a gloomy mask.

“Why have you gone in to my father’s concubine?” Ishbosheth asked. “You’re trying to take my throne.” His flabby chest puffed out, and his double chin jutted forward.

Abner folded both arms across his brawny chest. “Am I a dog’s head that belongs to Judah? Today I show loyalty to the house of Saul your father, to his brothers, and to his friends, and have not delivered you into the hand of David, and you charge me today with a fault concerning this woman?”

Ishbosheth gripped the sides of his chair, and the natural olive coloring of his skin paled. Fear showed in his expression, and he seemed incapable of giving Abner an answer.

The room grew silent, and Paltiel gritted his teeth, sensing Abner’s anger. The stalwart general stood stock-still, the only sign of his indignation a twitch in his left eye.

Abner took a step toward Ishbosheth, causing the man to shrink from him. “May God do so to me, and more also,” Abner said, his tone low and menacing, “if I don’t do for David as the Lord has sworn to him—to transfer the kingdom from the house of Saul and set up the throne of David over Israel and Judah, from Dan to Beersheba.”

Paltiel’s breath came out in a sudden whoosh, and Ishbosheth’s face paled even further, if that were possible. What was this? Had Abner lost his mind?

Ishbosheth sat back in his chair and clasped his hands in his lap. The muscles in his face contorted in a visage of fear, and he began rocking back and forth. His lips were sealed together, and Paltiel could tell he would not give Abner a reply. Abner was the one who had placed Ishbosheth on the throne, and Abner could take it all away.

The sudden stomping of Abner’s sandals across the tiles brought Paltiel out of his shocked stupor. If Abner went over to David’s side, he could take Michal with him. Spurred by a greater fear than Ishbosheth had portrayed, Paltiel raced after Abner. He caught up with him in the outer court.

“Abner, wait!”

Abner halted his rapid stride and turned. Paltiel hurried to his side.

“You aren’t serious. Are you?”

Abner’s dark eyes held a determined glint. “I said so, didn’t I?”

“But . . . I thought the purpose of taking Rizpah was to make a move to take over the throne. Don’t you want to rule the land? Why give it over to David? We can’t let him win.” Paltiel fought back the temptation to break down and weep.

Abner’s left eye twitched again, and Paltiel thought he noted a softening in his gaze. The general’s strong hand grasped his shoulder.

“Initially that was my plan. Haven’t I worked beside you to pull Israel together all these years?”