Bathsheba (26 page)

N
OT
KNOWING
IF
WE
WERE
BEING
PURSUED
,
we dared not tarry long on the Mount of Olives. We set out again, traversing the opposite slope, and in the distance we spotted a caravan of donkeys led by a man with several servants. One of the king’s soldiers rode ahead to determine whether the man was friend or foe, and in a short time we had an answer. The man was Ziba, the servant of Jonathan’s son Mephibosheth. On those saddled donkeys Ziba had loaded two hundred loaves of bread, a hundred fluffy cakes, pounds of fruit, and a large jug of wine. He was a most welcome sight, as we were exhausted from hunger, travel, and heartbreak.

When David asked what the provisions were for, Ziba prostrated himself before the king. “These donkeys are for the king’s household to ride on, the bread and the summer fruit are for the lads to eat, and the wine for the exhausted to drink in the wilderness.”

David looked around for Mephibosheth. When he did not see the young man, he asked Ziba about his master.

Ziba hung his head. “My master is remaining in Jerusalem. I heard him say, ‘Today the house of Israel will return my father’s kingdom to me.’”

I covered my mouth when I heard this, for despite what Grandfather had said about David helping Mephibosheth only because he wanted to keep his enemy close, I could not imagine anyone repaying the king’s kindness with such brazen disloyalty. David must have had the same thought, for he clasped Ziba’s shoulder and said, “Today, everything of Mephibosheth’s has become yours.”

The servant prostrated himself yet again. “May I find favor in your eyes, my lord the king.”

I sat on a rock, my head spinning with the day’s bizarre events. Men I would have considered forever loyal had turned on us, including my own grandfather. Worse yet was the realization that Grandfather had known about Absalom’s plans for some time. He had been involved in a conspiracy of treason, and why? He could not believe that prideful Absalom would be a better ruler than Adonai’s anointed king!

After eating and drinking to fuel our weary bodies, we walked on, desperate to find a place where we could set up a defensible camp. I insisted that Abigail ride one of the donkeys and I walked beside her, knowing that each jarring step caused her pain. Her young handmaid had disappeared, probably losing herself in the crowd so she would not have to witness her mistress’s suffering.

People poured out of their settlements as we passed by, some of them weeping, others cursing. A man called Shimei cursed David, calling him a “bloodstained fiend of hell” and claiming that the king’s sorrow was punishment from the Lord for spilling the blood of Saul’s house. “The Lord is paying you back for all the bloodshed in Saul’s clan,” Shimei ranted. “You stole his throne, and now the
Lord has given it to your son Absalom. At last you will taste some of your own medicine, for you are a murderer!”

Better than anyone, I knew my husband was guilty of murder, but I also knew he had been forgiven. But forgiveness did not eliminate the consequences of bloodshed, not in our family, nor in the kingdom of Israel. David had killed scores of men in his struggles against Saul, and when it came to spilled blood, people had long memories.

When Abishai, the leader of the Thirty, asked for permission to lop off Shimei’s head, David gave him a weary smile and said, “If the Lord has told him to curse me, who are you to stop him? My own son is trying to kill me. Doesn’t this relative of Saul have even more reason to do so?” He stopped walking and used his sleeve to mop his brow. “Leave him alone and let him curse, for the Lord has told him to do it. And perhaps the Lord will see that I am being wronged and will bless me because of these curses today.”

So we kept walking, accompanied by the curses and stones Shimei and his clan threw in our direction. I looked over at David, my husband and king, and wondered if he truly believed that Adonai had led this man and so many others to curse him. Curses, like blessings, were powerful when issued in Adonai’s name.

We did not stop again until we reached the banks of the Jordan River.

We were resting near the Jordan when two men approached on foot, breathless and drenched with sweat. Abishai stopped them at the edge of our encampment, questioned them, and then promptly escorted them into the royal tent, where David, Solomon, Joab, Abigail, and I had sought shelter from the sun.

David recognized the two young men, Ahimaaz and Jonathan,
sons of the priests Zadok and Abiathar. They had received a report from Hushai. As soon as I saw the messengers, I knew that Absalom had taken his father’s city and his throne.

“We were spotted leaving the house where we were stationed,” Jonathan said, breathlessly explaining their delay to the king. “We got as far as Bahurim before we realized we were being pursued, so a woman there hid us in her well. When Absalom’s man asked where we had gone, she sent them in the wrong direction, which allowed us to escape without notice.”

David’s eyes flashed, and in that moment his countenance filled with the spirit of a younger man. In his fighting days he had been as clever and slippery as these two.

“And what is the state of affairs in Jerusalem?” he asked.

Ahimaaz stepped forward. “If it please my lord and king, the young Absalom asked advice of two counselors, Ahithophel and Hushai. Ahithophel advised setting out in pursuit of you tonight, while you and the people with you are weary and weak. He promised he himself would lead the army. He said he would so frighten the people that they would desert, so he would have to kill no one but you.”

Despite the heat, a tide of gooseflesh rippled up my arms and neck. Ahimaaz did not glance in my direction as he repeated my grandfather’s words, and neither did David. But Solomon looked at me with questioning eyes. How could I explain his great-grandfather’s bloody offer?

“But,” Jonathan added, “the king’s friend Hushai advised Absalom to wait until he had raised an army from every tribe of Israel. He said Absalom should have an army as numerous as the sand on the seashore, and that Absalom should personally lead the troops, and that they should kill everyone in the king’s party and destroy any town that might give sanctuary to the king and his household.”

I shivered again, for Hushai’s advice had been far bloodier than Grandfather’s. Kill
everyone
? Even innocent women and children?

David looked from Ahimaaz to Jonathan, his brows knitting. “And what did Absalom decide?”

Jonathan glanced at his companion before answering. “My lord and king, Absalom and his men decided to wait and take Hushai’s advice. But you should cross the Jordan tonight in case he changes his mind.”

David exchanged a look with Joab before giving his reply: “We will cross immediately and set up our camp at Mahanaim.”

Mahanaim proved to be an oasis in the desert. We crossed the Jordan in the middle of the night—a task not without perils of its own, especially when the king’s household included the young, the sick, and the old—and walked until we reached Mahanaim, a fortified city. Friends of the king warmly welcomed us: Shobi, from Rabbah, the city where Uriah had died; Makir, from Lodebar; and Barzillai from Rogelim. They took one look at our wet, weary group and urged us to come through the city gates, where we could rest in safety. “You must all be very hungry, tired, and thirsty after your long march through the wilderness,” Barzillai said, extending his hand. “Please, come inside and be comforted.”

I clutched Solomon’s hand and entered the city, then stared at the supplies they had hastily assembled for us—sleeping mats, cooking pots, serving bowls, wheat and barley, flour and roasted grain, beans, lentils, honey, butter, sheep, goats, and cheese. They brought servants to help us establish a camp, and pack animals to help us transport additional supplies for our military men.

At some point in the moonless night, we slept, stretching out in whatever empty space we could find. I lay near Solomon so I could
keep an eye on him, and I saw that Joab stood watch over the king. Good. With Joab standing guard, I knew I would be able to sleep.

I doubted that David would sleep at all.

The next morning, while we women set about the tasks of feeding, clothing, and supplying our refugees, David assembled his commanders and focused on the work of reclaiming his kingdom. He divided his foreign troops into three groups, naming Joab, Abishai, and Ittai as the company commanders, and then announced he would strap on his sword and venture out with the army.

“No, you won’t,” Joab objected, echoing the concerns of the other two commanders. “If we are overcome, if we have to run, it won’t matter because they are looking for you. If they find you, the battle is over. You are worth ten thousand of us, so you must stay in town where you will be safe.”

Sitting in my quiet corner, I watched David reluctantly accept this hard truth. Something came to life within him at the thought of sallying forth with his men, and for a brief moment I could see inside his heart. I saw confidence there, a quick spark of excitement, and then I saw that spark flicker and die.

“If you think that’s the best plan,” he said, once again wearing the face of an aging, exhausted king. “I will agree.”

He stood aside as his men collected and strapped on their weapons; he watched them divide into companies and fill the open area inside the walls of Mahanaim. Before he sent the warriors out, he called the three commanders to stand before him, speaking loudly enough for every soldier to hear. “For my sake,” he said, his voice trembling more like a father’s than a king’s, “deal gently with young Absalom when you find him.”

And then the shofar blew. Mahanaim opened its gates as the armies of David marched toward the forest of Ephraim.

As the army battled, Elisheba and I did our best to help the women of Mahanaim handle the care and feeding of so many refugees. While David’s other wives lounged beneath makeshift sun shades, we hauled water, served food, and distributed blankets for the coming night. I had just given a blanket to Abigail when I heard a familiar voice call my name. “Bathsheba!”

I whirled around and saw Amaris hobbling toward me and clinging to a man’s arm. From the look in his eye and the careful way he helped her, I surmised he was her husband.

I left Abigail and flew into my sister’s arms, then called for Elisheba. “Come see who’s here!”

Despite the dire circumstances, we shared a joyful reunion. “We left Bethlehem as soon as we heard what Absalom was planning,” Amaris’s husband, Efrayim, said. “My mother is with the children—”

“Children?” Elisheba’s face split into a wide grin.

“Twin girls,” Amaris said. “As alike as two sparrows in a nest. They are of toddling age now.”

I turned back to my sister’s patient husband. “You were on the road to Jerusalem?”

“When we heard the king had already left the palace,” Efrayim said. “We support the king, of course, and decided to follow, hoping we would be able to serve our king in some way.”