Michal (24 page)

She shifted, trying to get comfortable, and steered the donkey toward the crevice.
Please, don’t let anyone else be there.
What would she do if she came upon a group of men?

A sudden noise made her head snap around. Fully awake now, she twisted from side to side, squinting into the darkness. Her heart hammered. Palms sweaty, she clutched the reins. Someone was coming.

The distinct sound of horses’ hooves beat the distant earth. Michal leaned close to the donkey’s ear, the way she’d seen David do. “Come on, girl, just a little farther,” she whispered. “We have to get behind those rocks.”

The beast dropped its neck and began to nibble a patch of grass, oblivious to Michal’s urging. “Please, donkey.” Michal forced her sweetest high-pitched tone past her tight lips and stroked the animal’s mane. The beast didn’t budge.

Michal blew out a frustrated breath, fighting tears. If only her foot were healed. She would jump down and push the beast forward. Or better yet, she’d run across Israel and never look back.

The earth shook, announcing the approaching horses. Michal kicked the donkey with her good foot again and again.
Move, you stupid beast!
The rumbling grew closer. Michal kicked harder, tears choking her.
Come on! Move!
She wanted to scream and flail her arms and throw a tantrum like a little girl, but she forced the words down her throat and leaned forward in silence.

Waves of dry earth billowed with each pounding hoofbeat, filling the air with stale dust. The donkey finally complied with Michal’s wishes and sauntered a couple of paces forward. Still within sight.

Michal sat helplessly, watching the horses advance. Within moments, she recognized her father’s guards Paltiel, Joash, and Benaiah. Her heart sank even as her anger flared. Keziah must have told. How else would they have come so soon?

The horses came to an abrupt stop a short distance from her. Paltiel jumped down, still holding the reins.

“Michal?” He peered at her, closing the gap between them.

She held her tongue, too angry to speak, and watched his brows furrow and his lips thin.

“What are you doing out here alone, Michal?”

Michal lifted her chin a notch. “Shouldn’t you be addressing me as ‘Princess’?”

Paltiel’s dark eyes narrowed. “Not when you don’t act like one.”

Michal met his gaze. How dare he! He was a guard, not an equal. “What do you want, Paltiel?”

“I’m taking you home.”

“To David—fine. You can all accompany me, then leave when I find him.”

“Not to David. To your father, the king.”

Their eyes met. There was a stern set to his jaw and an authority in his tone she’d never heard before. He looked haggard and irritated, if she read him correctly. Well, she could be stubborn too. And he had no right to tell her what to do.

“I’m not going.” She clutched the donkey’s reins and tried to swing the beast around to trot away. Never mind that Benaiah was strong enough to lift her with one hand. By himself he could force her to comply. Then again, Benaiah had once shown an interest in her. She glanced past Paltiel to the burly soldier and gave him a pleading look. Maybe he could be convinced to help her now.

The animal took one plodding step, but Paltiel’s hand grabbed the bridle, stopping it.

“You can’t make me go with you, Paltiel. I’m going to join my husband.”

“He’s not your husband anymore.”

He was lying. David belonged to her, and she to him. “Unless you can prove David is dead, you are mistaken.”

The look Paltiel gave her sent a shudder down her spine.

“There are other ways to end a marriage.”

“I have no certificate of divorce. David wouldn’t do that. He loves me.”

“David wouldn’t, but your father would—in fact, did.”

Michal stared at him. He was wrong. He had to be. “What are you talking about?”

She watched the guard study her with a familiarity that made her skin crawl. She didn’t like this man. She glanced again at Benaiah. The pained look in his eyes sent jagged throbs up the back of her neck and tied her stomach in knots.

“I’m telling you, Michal, that your father summoned one of the scribes to annul your marriage to David. He has decided that David is as good as dead and has promised you to another. That’s why we’re here. To take you home to your new husband.”

Michal tried to swallow but couldn’t get past the dryness, so she tried again, nearly choking. She wouldn’t let them do this to her. She wanted David.

David!

“He’s not lying to you, Michal.” Benaiah’s gentle tone startled her, but when she searched his face for some sign of an ally, she found nothing but resigned sadness. The realization hit with a force that nearly knocked her off the donkey. She leaned forward, clutching the animal’s mane.

“Who?” she managed to squeak through clenched teeth. Her gaze still rested on Benaiah. He wasn’t going to help her get to David. Could it be his past interest in her had never ceased?

“You mean who is your new husband?” Joash asked.

She nodded, her throat aching with unshed tears.

Paltiel reached a gentle hand to brush a loose strand of hair from her cheek and smiled at her. “The king, your father, had no idea whom he wanted to give you to. When he found out you’d run away, he promised I could have you if I could find you. I’m to be your new husband, Michal.”

18

Ginger-hued brick towers rose above an open, arched gate— an imposing structure used to welcome visitors or bar enemies from entering the city of Gath. Two weeks had passed since his visit to Ahimelech—two weeks of him and his men wandering south through Judah, avoiding places where people could recognize him, hiding in caves, scrounging for food, and finally reaching the Philistine city. David stood on the outskirts of the town now, watching heavily laden merchant carts pass under the inspection of guards flanking the solid wooden and metal doors. How to join their ranks was the question. Could he get inside undetected? Or maybe he should just announce his intentions up front. How else did one find an audience with the king?

“So, do I look ragged enough?” David turned to Abishai and sported a look of desperation. “Do you think the king will believe me when I tell him I’m seeking refuge?”

Abishai’s thick, dark brown mustache twitched in response. He sized David up and down, crossing his arms. Joab and the rest of his men had eventually agreed with Abishai and followed David to the border, but they had stayed behind when David and Abishai had broken camp that morning. David was weary of their harassment and questioning of his decisions. Abishai was the only one he trusted with this mission.

“You look ragged, all right. But, David, this is a fool’s mission. Please reconsider.”

“Don’t start sounding like your brother, Abishai. My mind is set.”

Abishai uncrossed his arms and tucked both hands in the pockets of his robe. “So, how do you plan to get inside?”

David looked back at the gate. A line of merchant carts still awaited entrance.

“Guess I’ll join a caravan.” He took two steps forward, then turned and embraced Abishai in a fierce hug, kissing each of his cheeks.

“God go with you, Uncle.”

David released him and unfastened Goliath’s sword from his belt. He handed it to Abishai. “Keep it for me . . . until I return.”

“I will.”

David set out at a brisk pace for the gates of Gath. He should have talked with some of the merchants around their campfires the night before. It would have given him an advantage he didn’t have now.

When he reached the end of the line, his stomach knotted. He wasn’t sure what he was so worried about. He’d spent years in a king’s court. How different could it be?

“You, Israelite! State your business.”

David snapped to attention. How had they spotted him from this distance? He glanced up to the guards decked along the walls, then down at the two stationed at the gate. A third soldier he hadn’t seen before strode purposefully toward him. “You there.” He pointed a bony finger at David. “State your business.”

David swallowed hard and met the man’s scrutiny. “I’m here to request an audience with King Achish.” It was too late to do anything else.

The youthful guard adjusted his red-feathered helmet and studied David. “For what purpose?” His voice was stern, his gaze calculating.

“To seek refuge . . . and offer my services.” David lifted his chin and straightened his shoulders.

The guard turned. “Follow me.” He walked past the rest of the merchant carts, leading David through the gate to the King’s Highway. Multicolored ornamental pillars and grotesque statues carved of white marble lined the street. Signs hanging from metal poles announced places of business—an apothecary here, a temple there, a theater at the corner of an intersecting street. Philistines of varying levels of economic status bustled about, children raced around produce carts, men and women haggled over prices, a donkey brayed in the distance. David took in the scene while his feet kept pace with the guard’s hurried gait until they reached the limestone steps of the jeweled palace of Achish, king of Gath.

“This Israelite requests a meeting with the king,” the man said when they stopped at the scribe’s desk outside the closed audience chamber.

The scribe lifted his turbaned head and rested beady eyes on David. “State your name, please.”

“David, son of Jesse, of Bethlehem.”

The scribe dipped a thin brush in a clay pot and jotted strange letters on a sheet of beige papyrus. David watched the man with a wary gaze, then scanned the enclosed portico. To his right, two servants huddled, whispering. Behind him a group of guards approached.

“Isn’t that David, the king of the land?” one of the guards said, his tone a mix of curiosity and condemnation.

David crossed his arms, feeling the heavy thudding of his heart beneath his fingers. This was not good.

“Yeah, that’s him.” Another guard took three steps closer, inspecting David like a farmer would scrutinize a lamb for sacrifice. The man stepped back and turned to his companions. “What’s he doing here?”

“Said he wants to see the king.” This from the guard who’d led David to the palace. “This ought to be good.”

“Maybe the king will take him prisoner.”

Another guard approached. “Hey, Israelite! Aren’t you the one they sing about in their dances—Saul has slain his thousands, and David his ten thousands?”

“Yeah, I’ll bet he’s seen plenty of Philistine blood on the end of his sword.”

David’s heartbeat slowed, every rhythmic thump sluggish, blood draining from his face. Coming here was a big mistake.

“The king will see you now.” The scribe spoke, the words distant.

They knew who he was, and they would use the knowledge against him. Saul’s threats were nothing compared to what he had walked into here. They would surely torture him before they finally allowed him the escape of death. The vision of himself impaled on a stake made his knees weak. This was no lion or bear or wolf going after a lamb. His sling was useless among so many Philistine swords.

The room tilted, and he closed his eyes, clutching the edge of the scribe’s table for support. Dread, relentless and deep, spiraled downward into the pit of his soul.

O
El Yeshuati
, God of my salvation, help me now.

“Did you hear me, Israelite?” The scribe spoke again, louder this time, but the words barely penetrated David’s fear-induced stupor. “What’s wrong with you, man?”

“Maybe he needs a little prodding.” A soldier lifted his sandaled foot and kicked David from behind. “Move along, Israelite! Don’t keep the king waiting.”

David stumbled forward as his self-preservation instinct swiftly rose, putting every nerve ending on high alert. His natural impulse screamed at him to whirl around and kick the man in return. But wisdom told him to ignore the insult. His mind raced with the best way to handle the Philistine king.

In the space it took him to totter and waver his way through the ornate doors, flanked by guards who grabbed his arms and tugged him toward the king, he knew what he should do.

“Who is this you’ve brought to me?” King Achish wrapped nimble fingers one at a time over the head of his staff. His dark eyes were intelligent, penetrating.