7

Despite the usually cool predawn hour, the breezes wafting across the palace roof promised oppressive heat later in the day. Dressed in her finest multicolored robe and white tunic, her braided hair hanging beneath a soft veil, Michal found her favorite viewing spot.

A thousand soldiers lined up in regiments of one hundred each outside the barracks, stretching almost to the gates of Gibeah. Michal lifted one hand to shade her eyes and squinted, searching for David. If only Father hadn’t gotten so insanely jealous of the man. Sending him away was no solution. She wanted him here, with her.

But she’d heard the shouts and bitter curses, the pottery shattering and the wood splintering. No one was safe when her father got like this. He acted as though a demon were nipping at his heels.

Michal sighed and looked closer at the barracks. There he stood, the wind whipping his tunic, revealing muscular arms and a tall, strong body. His dark, nearly shoulder-length brown hair skipped across his ruddy complexion and poked out from under his tan turban. Jonathan’s belt girded his waist, and his sword hung from his side. What a specimen of manhood! Michal’s breath caught, imagining what it would be like to be held in his arms.

Her mind drifted to the moment in the palace hall when she’d warned him to be careful. She would never forget the scent of him or the startled way he’d stepped back, as though her presence had unnerved him.

“Watching our young hero head out to battle the Philistines?” Merab’s voice came from behind her.

Michal jumped, a storm of anger suddenly bursting in her chest.

“I thought I’d find you here hiding from the madness.” Merab strode to the parapet and stood an arm’s length from Michal. “Isn’t it sweet of David to go so soon to battle to prove himself? Once he wins this one, Father will surely seal our betrothal.”

Michal focused again on finding David, who had walked away from where he’d been standing. Leave it to Merab to ruin her favorite sanctuary. Maybe if she ignored her sister, she would go away.

She found David moving swiftly through each regiment, conferring with each captain, until at last he took his place at the head of the troop.

“He’ll make a great commander,” Merab said, squeezing between Michal and one of the twin towers. “I just hope he lives to prove it.”

“He’ll live.” Michal spoke the words with a certainty she did not feel. David had to live. Please, God, let him live. She couldn’t bear to lose him after just discovering she loved him.

She stole a glance at her sister. What if Merab loved him too?

“Well, let’s hope so. If he dies, Father will have to start all over again finding a husband for me.” Merab’s slender fingers lifted long, smooth brown braids to cascade past her shoulders almost to her waist. She looked beyond Michal to the men below.

“Is there someone else you’d recommend?” Michal kept her eyes trained on David, not wanting to see Merab’s reaction.

Merab stepped away from the parapet. “If there was, little sister, I certainly wouldn’t tell you.”

Of course you wouldn’t, you arrogant little . . . The desire to turn and scratch Merab’s perfectly sculpted makeup off her face nearly choked Michal.

“Why not, older sister? Afraid you’ll never find a man willing to take you? Or are you worried I’ll try to steal him too?”

“Why, you little beast!” Merab stepped forward and yanked a handful of Michal’s hair.

“Ow!” Michal jerked away and snatched one of Merab’s dark braids, snapping her head backward.

“Oooo!” Merab lost her balance and fell to the roof’s dusty floor amid the sound of ripping fabric.

“Move out!” Michal heard David shout. She turned back toward the soldiers. A thousand men fell into line, some on donkeys and horses, others on foot. She watched David mount a sleek black stallion, lean toward its mane to rub its neck, and then sit back in a comfortable stance. Even the horse listened to him.

“I’m going to kill you, Michal!” Merab squealed after scrambling to her feet and examining her torn robe.

Michal pulled her attention from David to Merab. “Do not fight with me, Merab. I’m tired of you treating me like a troublesome, pesky child. I’m as much a woman as you are. And don’t you forget it!”

A number of fires dotted the open field where David’s men made camp for the night. In another day or two they would advance on the enemy stronghold, but for tonight they huddled together, going over battle strategies.

The buzz of voices floated to David on the evening’s cool breeze. He stood on a low ridge overlooking the group, his gaze traversing the blackened sky.

Teach me, Lord. Train my hands for this war. Show me what You want me to learn from Saul’s treachery, and let me come out stronger for it.

As if in answer, a plethora of dazzling stars burst like sparks across the expanse of heaven. Peace settled over him, replacing the confusion Saul’s hatred caused. God had not abandoned him.

I praise You, O Lord, for You will not forget Your servant.

Michal slipped into the antechamber connected to her father’s audience hall and settled on a gilded couch to watch the proceedings. When the last delegate delivered the final message of the day, Michal’s breath came harder, a bead of perspiration trickling down her spine. It was the best place for her meeting with the king, especially since Merab avoided the audience chamber unless David was there playing his lyre.

She waited until the scribes rolled up their scrolls and Abner and her brothers rose to leave before opening the side door and walking with a casual air toward the king.

“Did you want something, Michal?” Jonathan asked as she drew closer to her father.

“I want to see Abba.” She glanced at her father, gauging his mood. Timing was everything. “Alone,” she added, giving her brothers a childish pout. Let them treat her like a little girl who simply needed her father this one last time. The sacrifice to her adulthood was worth it if she got her wish.

“Come here, my dove.” Her father’s use of her childhood nickname took her back a pace. Maybe the sacrifice was in fact too great. But the thought of David spurred her forward.

She reached the throne and knelt at her father’s feet, taking his right hand between both of hers.

“What can I do for you, Daughter?” Saul asked, looking down at her with the exact benevolent expression she was hoping for.

“Send them away first.” She turned her head to indicate everyone left in the room.

“You heard the girl.” Her father’s light laugh lifted her spirits. She had picked a good day.

When the room emptied of everyone but the guards near the door, Michal stood and leaned close to her father’s ear. “I know a secret.” It was the way they used to begin their private games in the earlier days of her childhood, during her father’s first years as king—before the demons came.

Saul laughed outright. “Tell me your secret, little dove,” he said, playing along.

“Merab has a suitor. A wealthy merchant.”

“Does she now?” He cupped her cheek.

Michal nodded against his open palm. “His name is Adriel of Meholath.”

“Indeed?”

She kissed his weathered cheek. “I thought you’d like to know.” She stepped back, holding her breath. Would he take the bait?

“Thank you, Daughter.” He smiled, signaling the end to their game.

Michal exited from the room the way she’d come. When she stepped from the antechamber into the hall, she rushed toward the roof, hoping for some sign of the returning army.

Suddenly Merab moved into her path, arms crossed and eyes flashing. “What are you doing, Michal?”

“Tell me, Uncle, why did you turn down the king’s offer to become his son-in-law?” Joab sat on a large rock before the campfire, sharpening his dagger with a stone. Despite his stocky build, he could keep up with the better soldiers in the fiercest battle. What he lacked in stature, he made up for in cunning.

“I didn’t refuse his offer.” David plucked and tuned the strings on his lyre. He trusted Joab—to a point—but a wrong response on his part could bring him into greater disfavor with the king. “I was simply taken aback by the way she was presented to me. I had nothing to offer as a dowry and didn’t know what to say.”

“Killing Goliath was dowry enough.” Joab held the blade toward the fire, turning it over in his hand. Apparently satisfied that it was sharp enough, he tucked it into the leather pouch at his side. “He defrauded you, David. You should have agreed to marry the girl right then and there.”

David plucked a string, tightened it more, then plucked it again. “Well, I didn’t, now did I?” He would marry when he was good and ready, when he had earned the right and paid the bride price.

“What do you mean, what am I doing? I’m going to the roof.” Michal’s pulse sounded in her ears. Had Merab somehow heard her conversation with her father?

Merab’s dark eyes narrowed. “If you think watching the road is going to bring him back any sooner, think again, Michal. David is at war, and the last thing he is thinking about is you!”

“And who said anything about David?” Though his name made her heart beat faster, Michal’s breathing slowed to a more normal rhythm. Merab didn’t seem to know anything. “I like feeling the evening breeze as it moves across the fields. It’s cooler on the roof than in these confined walls.”

Merab tilted her chin, looking down her nose at Michal. “See that it’s all you do.” She walked off in a huff, her anger obviously still smoldering.

Michal shook her uneasiness aside. Something had put Merab in a foul mood, but that was not her concern. She raced to the roof, to her quiet sanctuary, to think about David instead of her sister.