Queenmaker (18 page)
Authors: India Edghill
I did not look at her. “Tell him what you please. I do not care.”
“Will you care when I tell him how you tricked me? How you begged me to send a messenger to the man you called husband, so that you would seem innocent? The man who now lies dead, struck down by robbers—or so they say. But I know better, O Queen.”
I opened my eyes and looked into Abigail’s. They were flat with malice, like an adder’s. She waited, poised above me, while I pondered her words. They seemed empty noise, meaningless to me. At last I said, “I never tricked you, Abigail. Now go, and leave me to my grief.”
She laughed, short and harsh. “I know how much you grieve, Queen Michal! And soon others will know too.”
My heart was ice and my blood ran thick with sorrow, but I was not yet dead. Abigail’s words pricked deep, as they were meant to; anger woke in me, sharp as thorn.
I sat up then. “I do not know what you mean, Abigail. I have spoken only truth to you; it is not my fault if you do not believe me.
“Oh, you were clever—but not so clever as I!” Abigail tossed her head. “But I am a good woman; how could I know what you would do, to be queen?”
Yes,
I thought, as anger’s thorn bit deep.
Yes, I still live.
Perhaps
I should have thanked Abigail, for showing me that. But I did not.
I thought, as anger’s thorn bit deep.
Yes, I still live.
Perhaps
I should have thanked Abigail, for showing me that. But I did not.
Instead, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood. I had lain abed too long, and so was weak as a new-born lamb. When I first stood, blood pounded behind my eyes and lights flashed and danced like torches, blurring my sight.
“And what is it I have done, Abigail?” My voice came from far away, as if it were not my own. “Tell me, for I do not know.”
“You are shameless,” Abigail said. “Shameless, and heartless, and no true woman. No one else dares to say so, but I do!”
“If you dare so much,” I said, “then say the rest plain.” If only Zhurleen had spoken plain, I would have known the truth. If only Zhurleen had spoken plain—would I have believed?
Abigail began to speak, but I had thought of something that she might know, and so I held up my hand to stoop her. “You say you know everything, Abigail—tell me, then, do you know what became of Zhurleen? My women tell me she has gone.”
Abigail started as if I indeed raved. “Zhurleen? That Philistine slut? What was she to you, that you care what became of her?”
“My friend,” I said. I thought of Zhurleen’s dancing hands and cautious eyes. Perhaps Zhurleen had been sent back to Philistia. Back to her home in Ascalon, where the sea whispered and sighed beneath her windows … .
“A Philistine whore! A fine friend!” Abigail’s eyes narrowed. “Now I see—she was the one who helped you. She was always a sly, sneaking thing, I knew she could not be trusted! But do not look for her to aid you now—she is gone. David tired of her, as we all knew he would, and sold her—to a slave-dealer going north, or so I heard. He is better rid of her than he knew!”
I did not act in hot rage; I thought quiet for a moment, and then I raised my hand and slapped Abigail hard across her cheek. “She was the only true woman under this roof,” I said. “King David cannot tell gold from dross.”
I thought Abigail might try to strike me in turn; I would not have blamed her if she had. But Abigail only gaped at me, and took a step backward.
“Now,” I said to her calmly, as if we talked only of the weather, “tell me why you came here to torment me. What have I done to you, Abigail, that you should hate me so?”
Then Abigail’s truth was spoken, spat out like a cobras poison. I had taken her place in David’s heart; I had stolen what was hers. I had told her I had no wish to be queen—“—yet your husband—or so you called him—lies dead! No one knows who slew him, but I do! Who else had cause to wish him dead but you?”
She backed away as she spoke, as if fearing I would strike her again. But I did not, for I could not deny her words.
I was guilty. I had struck Phaltiel down as surely as if my own hand had dealt the blow.
“And do not think you shall escape justice, for I shall tell King David what manner of woman you are,” Abigail said. “He would never dream such evil—he thinks only good of everyone. But he must know this, lest you bring shame and dishonor to him, as you did to that man Phaltiel!”
“Go and tell him, then,” I said.
After Abigail had gone—quickly, as if she feared I might somehow stop her—I sat down again upon my bed. I saw at last how cunning David had been; how closely he held me in his net. Now, when I looked through Abigail’s eyes, I saw what others would see. What David had meant them to see.
Who had more to gain than I from killing Phaltiel?
To become King David’s queen, she bought her husband’s death.
That was what men would say, if that death were brought to judgment.
To become King David’s queen, she bought her husband’s death.
That was what men would say, if that death were brought to judgment.
It was not David who would stand accused of Phaltiel’s murder.
It was I.
I do not know what David said to Abigail, when she accused me to him. But she never afterwards spoke a word to me, save at his command.
I cannot say her silence grieved me overmuch.
The days were long, after that. And the nights were longer.
By day I walked queenly and obedient, as I had been bidden. By night I lay in David’s arms and let him have his will of my docile body.
By day my hair and wrists and ankles glittered with gold, with carnelian, with lapis and fine silver. I had new robes, more than any woman could wear; robes stiff with embroidery and heavy with tassels. I had necklaces and earrings of crystal, coral, chalcedony. I had gold dust on my hair and mirrored sandals on my feet.
By day, I had all a man thinks a woman dreams of.
By night, I had David.
I had thought I knew what grief, and anger, and bitterness were. Now I learned them anew each time I held out my arms to David as if he were my heart’s delight. I dared do nothing else, even as I called myself coward and harlot.
Only one risk did I take, and that was to speak of Phaltiel’s family, that had once been mine. I could not bear not knowing, but I knew I dared not send a message to them; no, not so much as one word. And so I did what I had sworn I never would. I begged a favor of David.
I wished to make it a simple thing, but it came hard. I hated the asking, and I feared what I might hear; my face was hot and my fingers trembled as I spoke the words.
“Phaltiel’s family? Oh, yes—he had three sons, and two daughters as well, did he not? And grandchildren, too?” It was strange knowledge to have so ready to his tongue; King David showing me the lion’s paw held heavy over those I loved.
“Yes. I—I would know if they are well. I was fond of them, when I dwelt among them.” I heard the pleading in my voice, and was afraid to say more.
David slid my hair through his fingers; he liked to weave it into chains, as if he would bind me with them. “They are well, Michal—even the boy Caleb. The king is shepherd to his people;
I sent them gifts to ease their loss. Do not trouble yourself over them; they are nothing to us now.”
I sent them gifts to ease their loss. Do not trouble yourself over them; they are nothing to us now.”
And then David smiled upon me, and spread my braided hair across my breast. “There, you see? My loving wife has only to ask, and it is granted.”
He was pleased I had come to him for even so small a thing. So pleased that he did not even demand I smile.
That summer, there was much to please King David. It seemed he had only to stretch out his hand and whatever he wished fell into it like ripe fruit.
He already held all the south; I knew Abner had promised to bring him the north as well. Abner, once war-chief of King Saul, then war-chief of King Ishbaal. Abner, who had been rewarded well for bringing me to Jerusalem, and better for abandoning my brother Ishbaal. Without Abner, King Ishbaal’s warriors scattered to their homes. Without Abner, Ishbaal’s crown was David’s for the asking.
So now—Abner, war-chief of King David.
The title had a fine ring to it. And as King David’s star rose daily higher, Abner had reason to think himself both clever and fortunate. King David gave with lavish hands.
But Abner did not enjoy his triumph long. For King David had a war-chief before Abner—Joab.
Joab was a mighty warrior and a proud man. And he was David’s nephew, being the son of David’s sister Zeruiah. Joab had fought at David’s left hand since David had first taunted King Saul in the wilderness. Joab had been the first man up the well to take Jerusalem by cunning and force.
Joab, war-chief of David—who knew David’s mind without need of words.
So when Abner went away from Jerusalem on some business of King David’s, Joab sent after him and called him back—in David’s
name. Abner was no fool; he would never have heeded a message from Joab.
name. Abner was no fool; he would never have heeded a message from Joab.
When Abner came inside the city gate, Joab killed him. For vengeance, Joab said. Because Abner had slain Joab’s brother Asahel in some forgotten battle. Blood called for blood.
King David made a great noise of mourning for Abner, and buried Abner with as many honors as if he loved him well. King David publicly reviled Joab and all his family for the dishonor they had brought to David’s name. And all men saw King David turn his face from Joab, and weep for Abner.
And Joab did penance for his crime; David forced him to walk behind Abner’s bier, wailing and rending his garments. But nothing else was done, for all that Abner had been slaughtered like a sheep within the gates of David’s own city
Harsh words were heaped upon Joab’s head, and Joab bowed down under them; when he rose again, he held Abner’s honors in his own hands.
And so—Joab, once more war-chief of King David.
I heard all the story from my women. They knew every tale told at the well, and retold all of them to each other. It did not seem to matter to the women whether or not I attended to them as they chattered. Often I did not, for listening tired me.
But I listened well to the tale of Abner and Joab, and of King David’s grief and horror. And I thought, and counted time upon my fingers.
It was only forty days since Abner had taken me from Phaltiel and brought me to King David’s court, a seal upon Abner’s bargain with King David. Now Abner had his reward.
I suppose I should have rejoiced to hear of Abner’s death. But I could not; I could think only of how Abner had stood faithful at my father Saul’s side through all those years.
“It is wise to know the measure of a king’s memory,” I said. My women asked me what I meant, what I wished, what I would have; I turned away and did not answer.
Death fed upon death; David still mourned Abner when men brought him my brother Ishbaal’s head. Brave men who had slain Ishbaal as he slept in his bed; men who came to King David proud of their bloody deed, sure he would reward them well.
They were wrong. King David wept instead for Saul’s son Ishbaal—“My brother in kingship, and in marriage.” Ishbaal’s murderers were put to death.
“They slew a king, so their crime is twice sin,” David said, when he came to tell me what had happened.
I had been already told of Ishbaal’s death, of course. And I had tried to mourn him as was proper, even though I was only Ishbaal’s half-sister, and had never known him well. But I had no tears left; when David came to me—to comfort me, he said—I was sitting in my courtyard. My eyes were dry; the queen’s fountain must weep for me.
“Is a king twice a man?” I looked at David; his eyes were red with his tears for Ishbaal.
“But you may rest content, your brother’s murderers have been punished as the Law demands. And Joab has taken half the army north to your brother’s city, to keep the peace there.”
And to make sure there was no other king in the north but David. Even I knew that.
Ishbaal had never wished to be a king; it was Abner who had placed him upon an unsteady throne. Now Abner was dead, and Ishbaal too, and David would have Israel as well as Judah. North and south, both held in King David’s hands. And Jerusalem to stand guard over both King David’s kingdoms.
David waited, but I said nothing. There was nothing I need say;. David himself had said it all already.
Then he smiled. “But I have brought glad news as well. Joab will bring Jonathan’s son Meribaal back with him. Now Meribaal will make his home here, with us. That will please you, will it not?”
“Yes,” I said. “That will please me, David.” I remembered Jonathan talking of his sturdy little son; I tried to reckon the time passed since then. Meribaal must be nearly ten now. Jonathan’s boy; my nephew. Perhaps there would be some love for me here, after all.
Hope is hard to kill.
David made Meribaal’s coming a great day in Jerusalem. The streets were decked with palms and flowers, as for a festival. All for Jonathan’s son—and for the peace David had brought to the land, now that he was king indeed.
Other books
Bladed Wings by Davis, Jarod
Debt of Ages by Steve White
Vegan Yum Yum by Lauren Ulm
A Treasure Concealed by Tracie Peterson
Four Shades of Recovery: Boxed Set by J. S. Luxor
Questions About Angels by Billy Collins
False Memory by Dean Koontz
Until You by Sandra Marton
A Girl Becomes a Comma Like That by Lisa Glatt
Home Is Burning by Dan Marshall