Unspoken (9 page)

“Joram demanded to know who had sent me.” Her handmaiden started to weep. “I had to tell him, my lady. I had to. But I said it quietly. I said it so quietly, he had to bend forward and tell me to repeat what I’d said. And then he went forward and informed the king.”

“For all to hear?”

The girl’s face was pale. “No. He whispered into the king’s ear.”

Somehow that made everything worse. Bathsheba shuddered. “Did Joram take my message?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Did he give it to David?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“And did the king summon you then? Did he give you a message to bring back to me? Did he say
anything
to you?”

“No, my lady, no, no—but how could he say anything with so many around to hear and wonder? He called for . . .”

“Called for . . . ?”

“The next case.”

Bathsheba turned her face away. “You may go.”

“Oh, my lady . . .”

“Go!”

Alone, Bathsheba sank to the floor and covered her face. It was too late to regret loving David, too late to regret giving herself to him without a word of protest. All she could do now was wait and see if David would remember his promise to her.

For now, it appeared he’d chosen to remember her not at all.

DAVID assessed Uriah as the soldier approached the throne. He was a tall man with broad shoulders, his skin weathered and ruddy from years in the sun, his mouth an uncompromising line. He’d removed his leather helmet and tucked it beneath one of his arms. David noticed the streaks of gray at the Hittite’s temples. He stopped in front of the throne, hit his fist against his heart, and bowed low before David. “My lord the king!”

When the Hittite straightened, David inclined his head with the respect due a man of proven loyalty and courage, well respected by captains as well as commanders, and even the king. No sign of curiosity lit Uriah’s eyes now. He was a consummate soldier, who obeyed his supreme commander without question. David knew that whatever he commanded, Uriah would do.

Relaxing, David leaned back. This was going to be easy. “How does Joab fare? Tell me about the people and how the war prospers.”

“All goes well, my lord the king.” Uriah gave detailed information on how Joab and Abishai had employed the captains and the soldiers beneath their command. Uriah gave a full picture of the situation. He spoke of skirmishes in which the Ammonites had been chased back inside the city “like dogs with their tails between their legs.” David laughed with him. Uriah spoke of the fear upon the land since David had defeated Hadadezer and his allies the previous year. “Hanun is alone. It’s only a matter of time before Rabbah falls and Hanun’s crown will be placed in your hands.”

Nodding, David smiled. “Good news, indeed. Is it not so?” He looked around at the other men in court who received the news eagerly. He returned his attention to Uriah. The time to show magnanimity was right. “You may take your leave, my friend. Go on home and relax.”

A frown flickered across Uriah’s brow. “My lord the king!” With a fist against his heart, he bowed low again, straightened, stepped back, and turned with the precision of a marching man. David stifled his jealousy as he watched the Hittite stride from the throne room.

“Joram.” He beckoned his guard. “I want a meal prepared for Uriah and his wife, something special, something that will bring back fond memories of their wedding feast.” He gripped the arms of his throne tightly. “Have it prepared and delivered to Uriah’s house immediately.”

“Yes, my lord the king.”

Good food would help Uriah relax and make the transition from battlefield to a peaceful night in the arms of his beautiful young wife.

David spent the rest of the day hearing various cases brought before him by the people. The trifling disputes tried his patience, but the time he spent resolving them kept him from dwelling upon the thought of Bathsheba in the arms of another man.

He would give Uriah one night to do what was expected, and then the man was going back to Joab at Rabbah.

Bathsheba was feverish when her mother greeted her in the marketplace with news that Uriah had been seen entering Jerusalem. “He must have news from Rabbah,” her mother said, going on to make a dozen speculations while Bathsheba felt the sweat break out on her body. What could David possibly be thinking? Was he going to confess to her husband? Would he claim she’d seduced him by parading naked in front of him? Or had he other plans? Would he offer gifts to absolve his guilt? She told her mother she wanted to prepare to see her husband and hurried home, where she remained, pacing in agitation.

When Joram and several servants of the king came to her house laden with trays of succulent food, enough quantity and variety to please a king, she was alarmed. “What is all this?” Surely David wasn’t intending to come into her house. Her neighbors would see and talk. The whole city would know of their affair!

“Tell Uriah that the king sends his best wishes for a pleasant evening,” Joram said with a mocking smile.

“Uriah has been serving in Rabbah.”

“Indeed, until he was summoned from Rabbah to report to the king about the war. My lord the king gave him leave to return home and spend the night with you.”

She felt the heat come up from her toes to the top of her head as she understood the full implication of what Joram was saying. “Uriah isn’t here.” And even if he had come home, he would not put a hand upon her. Did David know his men so little? Had he forgotten the Law? When a man was called out to war, he was to remain abstinent from sexual relations. He was to save his strength for battle against the enemies of Israel rather than spend it on his own pleasure.

“Then I will find him,” Joram said. “I will inform him of what the king has done to honor him.” He waved the servants out and left.

Honor
Uriah? Shame swept over Bathsheba as she realized the way David had chosen to help her. He was attempting to hide their sin of adultery by enticing her husband to sleep with her and believe he was the father of her child! Was this the fulfillment of David’s promise to help her? He was drawing her into deeper sin, pulling her down further into sorrow and shame. If Uriah gave in to his fleshly nature, David expected her to lie and pretend to rejoice that she was with child, for everyone would naturally assume the child was Uriah’s. Uriah would have to bear the embarrassment of having broken his vow of abstinence.

Oh, she saw everything so clearly now. David, commander of the army of Israel, rested in his palace while his army fought the war. The king, restless and bored, peeping at her as she bathed and summoning her for his own pleasure. He hadn’t cared that she belonged to another man, a man who’d been his friend through the hard years of running from King Saul, a man of proven loyalty, a man both valorous and honorable! And she had gone to him, her heart in her hands, giving everything of value to him. She’d prostituted herself to her idol-king, who took his leisure while men like her husband risked their lives to win his battles against Israel’s enemies!

How would she face Uriah when he came home? How would she look into his eyes and survive the anguish? How could she have betrayed him like this? She’d succumbed to her childish fantasies and made a fool of herself, imagining that one night of passion meant anything lasting to a king! She’d served to sate his desire for a night. She meant nothing to him. He’d probably forgotten all about her until she sent him that message! Did he curse the inconvenience of her conception?

“What have I done?” She groaned, her arms hugging herself as she rocked back and forth. “What have I done?”

Joram returned. “Your husband is sitting at the door of the king’s house with all the servants of David. I told him of what the king sent in his honor.” He stepped forward. “You must go to Uriah, my lady. Go to him and do whatever you must to bring your husband home to you for the night. It is the king’s wish that you do so.”

The king’s wish.

If she fulfilled her part in the abominable plan, the king’s reputation would be unblemished by scandal, she would live, the child would live, and Uriah would never know the truth. She could go on pretending she was the dutiful, loving, faithful wife. She could have the child she’d longed for. The people would be spared the same anguish she now felt, realizing the man she’d loved and worshiped for so many years was deeply flawed. He was no longer the charismatic boy who had killed Goliath and rallied the nation. He was a king whom power had corrupted, for he had become selfish, cunning, and capable of deceit.

Bathsheba felt unclean and helpless. David was presenting her with a way to survive. If she didn’t go through with it, she’d die. So would the child she carried.

“Go,” she said softly. “Just go and leave me to do what I must.” She closed the door behind Joram. Dismissing her maid for the night, she took up her shawl and went out of the house. She stood in the darkness for a long time, feeling it press in around her. She wished she could think of another way out of the mess she’d stepped into when she had freely allowed the king to gaze upon her in her bath. As she walked along the moonlit street, she looked up at the wall of the palace where David had stood gazing down at her as she bathed. And she realized, even now, her feelings for him hadn’t changed. How was it possible, with her eyes wide open, that she could still love David so much?

She saw the palace gate, closed for the night. Guards were still posted. She approached slowly, her heart in her throat. Would they ask her name, ask her purpose in coming? Or would they be among the many soldiers she’d met at her father’s campfire, or who served in the house of her husband?

Two soldiers stepped forward. “Woman, why do you come at this hour?”

“I am Bathsheba, wife of Uriah. I was told my husband has returned from Rabbah.”

“Uriah is bedded down inside the gate with the king’s servants. He is among
friends.”

She felt the cold wind blowing.

Did men talk among themselves as women did? Were rumors circulating among the palace servants? Even if they were, who would dare tell Uriah that his friend, the king, had cuckolded him?

“I will tell him you’re here,” the other guard said and left them. The guard who had spoken first returned to his position without a word. He didn’t look at her. Bathsheba understood the implications of his rudeness. He knew about her affair with the king.

How many others knew?

She kept her face covered as she waited. The city slept and only the guard was present, but she could feel eyes upon her, eyes that saw through her subterfuge and into her heart. She wanted to cower and hide, but knew she would never escape.

The gate was opening. The guard reappeared and her husband followed.

As Uriah walked toward her, her heart hammered. She turned slightly and took a few steps away from the gate so they would have privacy to talk. When he stopped before her, she raised her eyes and saw his troubled expression. He searched her face intently, but didn’t speak.

“The king sent a feast to our house to welcome you home.” Her voice trembled.

His eyes flickered, and then an expression spread across his face that made her go cold. Something had been confirmed. His face went taut as though he had been struck. “So,” he said and said no more.

He knew!

She saw the moist sheen build in his eyes and wanted to curl up at his feet and die. Could anything hurt a man more than to learn the wife he loved had betrayed him in another man’s bed—especially that of a king he’d loved so much and served so long? She might as well have drawn Uriah’s sword from his belt and stabbed him through the heart. Her throat closed tight and hot.
What can I do? How can I show him how sorry I am?
Her hands relaxed, and the shawl slipped down around her shoulders as her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Uriah . . .” She could say no more. She shook with sorrow and shame.

“They expect me to kill you where you stand,” he said hoarsely.

“And so you should.” What excuse had she? What defense could she offer? As much as David’s callow treatment hurt her, she couldn’t cast all the blame at his feet. She’d been willing and eager for him. Now she saw the cost to a man who truly loved her. Heartsick, she went down on her knees and found a stone large enough to fill her palm. Straightening, she extended her hand. “You have every right.”

A muscle jerked in his jaw as tears spilled down his cheeks and into his beard. He took the stone and made a fist. She could see him struggling with his emotions. After a long moment, he shook his head and dropped the stone at her feet. When he lifted his hand, she waited for the blow, but he merely laid his hand gently against her cheek. He stroked her tear-dampened skin with his thumb as he gazed into her eyes, his own filled with sorrow and forgiveness. She put her hand over his and closed her eyes in anguish, and felt him slip his hand from beneath hers.