Warrior Poet (24 page)

Gripping the kinnor bag in front of him like a shield, David followed him, Jonathan’s words clanging like warning bells in his head. Too soon, he again found himself alone inside the royal bedchamber. All the lamps were extinguished; the only light was from the moon that shone through the arched window. Saul was silhouetted in front of it. David initially mistook him for a guard, for every time he’d been in this room, the king had been either sitting or reclining. David had also been initially misled by what the figure was holding: a spear. Recognizing that it was the king, David’s last fragment of hope disappeared.

And while the presence of the spear was ominous, its position was chilling. The spearhead was resting on the tiled floor next to Saul’s right foot. As David had recently learned on the practice field, it was the best position if one anticipated a sudden throw.

“Sit,” ordered the king.

David lowered himself, crouching on his haunches, unwilling to lose his leverage by sitting with his legs crossed beneath him.

Saul did not seem to notice.

“Play me one of your gentle melodies. After the battle today, I am having a difficult time falling asleep.” The king’s words were slurred. While he may not have felled any Philistines, during the celebration that followed, the king had laid to rest many flagons of wine. He swayed, then caught himself, resting his full weight on the lethal weapon. “Make it that ‘Lord is my shepherd’ song.”

“Yes, my king,” David responded, beginning to play the melody, which was now so familiar that the royal musicians were not only playing it themselves but modifying it into songs of their own. He transitioned into an introduction that on other occasions had proved effective in calming the king. This time, as he strummed the notes, it had the opposite effect. King Saul became more agitated and began pacing the length of the room. Each stride was punctuated with the click of a metal point striking tile.

Oddly, whenever Saul passed the open window, he would look down at the shadow he cast on the floor and take a long, hurried stride, as if afraid to step on it. Regardless of how sweetly David played, Saul’s body remained as taut as the strings of the lyre. David was equally tense. At any moment, he expected to see a spear hurtling toward him. Unused to this awkward position, his legs were trembling with tension. He had escaped Goliath’s attack, but he doubted that at this close range he could repeat the feat. His fingers began to shake, but he kept playing. A menacing evil was seeping down onto him, leaving a tarry residue on his tongue.

In front of the window again, the king stopped, his body turned toward David. Leaning against the corner of the room, David could now see the shaft of another spear. Its point was also resting on the tiles, and it was only an arm’s length from the king. Saul did not adjust his body but lowered his shoulder and bent his head sideways to look at the sliver of moon behind him. Twisted grotesquely, he growled, “Start singing!”

Despite the dryness of his mouth, David obeyed, repeating the phrases he and Jahra had sung together a lifetime ago.

“Hah! Go on. Go on—I command you!”

David’s hands froze. The last three words had come from those infantile voices he had hoped never to hear again. Sweat broke out along his hairline. Every muscle was poised, ready for flight.

Saul was still staring out at the sky. “Yesss! Yesss!” the childish voices hissed, sounding like coiling serpents.

Trapped, David struggled to sing the closing stanzas.

You prepare a table before me

under the eyes of my enemies.
54

The king was outlined against the window, his disheveled head bowed, the point of the spear tapping softly, keeping time. David’s heart clutched. Though the king had not moved, his shadow was oozing into the shape of a hunchbacked beast. It had a small head and elongated arms, but its elongated hands held no weapon.

David could no longer feel his legs. He forced the next-to-last stanza out of his mouth.

You anoint my head with oil,

my cup brims over.
55

As the lyrics hung in the air, David realized the significance of what he’d sung. “Anointed! There it is!” the voices gloated, and as they did, Saul’s head jerked up, his back straightened, and he wheeled, lifting his arm in a fluid, feline motion.

The moment Saul released his spear, David flung himself sideways. The weapon flew past him, striking the table behind him. On wobbly legs, David teetered toward the entrance. He was pulling on the latch as the doors were pushed open from the outside. Dishon rushed in and fell as the doors gave way unexpectedly. David tripped over him and heard the sound of the second spear striking the stone wall next to his right shoulder. Without stopping to explain, he righted himself and made his escape, stumbling awkwardly across the courtyard and slamming shut the door of his chamber. To protect himself he locked the door by sliding a wooden bar through metal rings on each side of it.

He lay on his bed, sweat pouring from him. He felt like a knife had hollowed him out. His dreams were shattered, but he was not so much angry as ashamed. Sometime near dawn he fell asleep. When he awoke, it was almost midday. Not knowing where to go, he kept the door barred and stayed in his room. In the early afternoon he heard Jonathan’s voice outside his door.

“Open up,” the prince called. His voice was surprisingly cheerful. “I come bearing gifts.”

David slid the bar out, and Jonathan pushed his way in. David gaped at him; the prince was dressed for war; his sword was at his side, and in his right hand he was holding his best bow. Beside him stood a servant boy carrying a platter of food and a water jug. The prince said nothing as the thin waif arranged the items on the round table. When they were alone, David picked up the jug and poured the contents directly into his mouth. He drank greedily while Jonathan leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, a wide grin on his face.

“I wanted to come sooner, but there were certain arrangements to be made,” the prince said. “Dishon told me what happened. Believe me when I tell you that everything is fine. I spoke with Father this morning—he feels terrible, as well he should. And I can assure you, it will not happen again.” Jonathan’s eyes sparked briefly, but then the smile returned. “He is back in his right mind and wants to see you. In fact, he wants to talk to you about your upcoming marriage.”

David stared at him in shock.

Jonathan let out a loud laugh and grabbed an apple from the platter. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten! I thought that was your main motivation for taking on that oversized Philistine.” The grin had shifted to something more ribald.

“Well, yes. I mean, no.” David felt his face grow warm. “I mean, yes, I did want to win the reward. After all, what an honor! But I am only a shepherd, and I have no dowry. How could I possibly marry the daughter of the king?”

“It may be easier than you think,” Jonathan said. “It is not so hard when the mother and the daughter and the firstborn son are behind the arrangement.” He took a bite of the fruit, then tossed it out the window. “You need to see him immediately. With Father, one must strike while the iron is hot, and thanks to my dear sister, it is most definitely that.”

David’s head was spinning. He stared at Jonathan’s smiling face, then down at his leather studded chest piece and his elaborate sword belt, feeling a prickle of resentment. Events were carrying him along much too quickly. He felt like a piece of driftwood being dragged away from shore. He was being manipulated into the middle of a complex scheme he could neither understand nor control.

“Michal insisted that she be the one to tell you the plan.” Jonathan went to the bench on which David’s clothes were folded. He threw him the yellow tunic. “Put this on. It’s the one I gave you. It’s Michal’s favorite.”

David grabbed it before it hit the floor. “What’s going on?” he asked, unable to keep the annoyance out of his voice. “And where are you off to?” There was a petulance to his question as he pointed to the articles of war.

“I worked it out so she could come and see you. It’s her surprise; I promised I wouldn’t spoil it.” With an enigmatic expression, the prince loosened the elaborate chest piece. “I told you I came bearing gifts, and I did not mean the food,” he said, handing the chest piece to him.

David pulled back, too stunned to say anything. The prince smiled. “I insist,” he said, pushing it into David’s arms. The prince was grinning at David’s consternation and laughed quietly as he began to unclasp his sword belt. “A warrior always needs to be ready for combat, and, my friend, Israel’s champion should not be without one of these.” The thick leather belt and sword came free, and Jonathan tossed them at David, who had taken several steps back. David caught them easily with his slinging hand.

“No, my prince. I can never accept these.” His hands were full, his cheeks were red, and he felt foolish. “I am not worthy.” He wanted to kneel but knew that would only make the situation even more embarrassing.

Jonathan stepped toward him and laid his bow on top of the sleeping couch. When he straightened, his smile had been replaced by a look of tenderness that alarmed David. For an instant David was terrified that the prince was preparing to send him away from the royal court.

“I have others, David,” Jonathan said, resting his fingers on the sword belt David was clutching in his left hand. “This is a gift of love. It is to remind you that no matter what happens, my soul is knit with yours. We are friends for life.”

David tried to swallow the lump in his throat as Jonathan took the belt and buckled the sword around him. In a voice choked with emotion, Jonathan continued, “I am aware that you are God’s anointed.” His eyes were red, yet he looked directly at David. “This is also my pledge of loyalty to you.”

Impulsively, David threw his arms around this strong man who had become to him the older brother he had longed for his whole life. At first, the prince’s words had filled him with joy, but now he felt so unworthy, he knew he was going to cry.

“Look at us.” Jonathan laughed, pulling away after a moment and wiping his eyes. “Anybody would think we were little girls instead of warriors. Throw some water on your face, make yourself presentable, and be quick about it.” He again sounded like a commander. “She should be outside by now. But don’t take too long with her. We don’t want ugly rumors to spoil our plan. I’ll be standing guard outside.”

David had just enough time to dry his face and run a comb through his hair before he heard a soft knock and the door swung open. Michal wore a flowing dress tied at the waist in such a way that it accentuated every curve of her body. It was a rose color, and her belt was a deep crimson, which matched the scarf draped around her hair and neck. Large silver hoops dangled from her ears, and around her forehead hung a rope of silver coins. She was radiant.

He was trembling deep inside as he held her hands. She looked at him, a question on her lips. He stared into her eyes and felt himself floating away. “You look beautiful,” he whispered.

Michal smiled coyly, little lines forming at the corners of her eyes. “So do you,” she said with a happy smile. “We don’t have much time. I have spoken with Adriel and made him understand that I love you, not him. I suggested that he ask for Merab’s hand instead. It did not take him long to agree. It was as easy as I had expected. He loves the idea of being a part of the royal family more than he cares about either of the king’s daughters.” Michal’s eyes glistened with sly triumph.

She stepped closer so that her body just grazed his. “Now that the eldest is spoken for, my father is free to offer his second daughter as a reward to the champion of Israel.” She gazed at him, her face flushed with admiration. “He was not happy about it at the beginning, but with the three of us in favor—Jonathan, Mother, and me—he had to give way.”

Michal moved even closer. She went on as if unaware that they were pressed together. Her body burned his. “Mother is furious about what Father tried to do to Jonathan and, now, also to you. She made a terrible row, and Father realizes he needs to make amends—to all of us.”

David’s pulse was throbbing. He could hardly swallow, much less speak. Michal was barefoot, and since he was wearing sandals, he was looking directly into her eyes. She tilted her head, her eyes bright with a fire he had not seen before. “I made him swear that within six months he would honor the promise he made at Elah. He said he would, on one condition.”

David looked at her warily. “What is it?”

She giggled. “Not money,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “Foreskins.”

“Fore—” David stuttered.

“Yes. One hundred of them,” she said and laughed again. A slight blush rose to her cheeks, but she kept her eyes fixed on his.

He cleared his throat, needing desperately to take a drink.

“These were his words.” She furrowed her forehead, and her voice became low and husky, a passable impression of her father’s. “‘What is a better dowry from Israel’s champion than the foreskins of one hundred of her enemies?’” She raised a fist and shook it. “‘And though they may be dogs, they will no longer remain uncircumcised.’” David joined in her laughter despite the worry that trickled through him.

Michal’s body against his, and the scent of her perfume, was making his head reel. Her dark eyes had grown darker and were looking deeply into his. A fire filled his chest. He placed his hand lightly on the back of her neck, then slowly drew her toward him. As their lips met, he thought,
Maybe, just maybe, it isn’t such a bad thing to be carried away on the current.

Three quick knocks interrupted them. Before David could respond, the door swung open and Jonathan poked his head into the room. “Time to go,” he said, the grin back on his face. David looked at Michal, who was shaking her head disgustedly at her older brother. She took David’s hand, leading him to the door. Jonathan gave her a wink, but she ignored him, pushing him away from the entrance.

“The king awaits your pleasure—
Captain
,” he said.

David stared at him in surprise. Jonathan’s grin widened. “The king and I have agreed that you should receive a battlefield promotion. The general, of course, concurred.” He gave David a hearty slap on the back. “Or, if you prefer, I can just call you … brother-in-law.”