Queenmaker (29 page)

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Authors: India Edghill

BOOK: Queenmaker
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So I added, “But you cannot say they quarreled, Bathsheba. It takes two to quarrel.”
She smiled at that. “Yes, and Amnon will not. Oh, he is such a fine boy—well, he is a man now—they grow so
fast
! But—Oh,
why
is Absalom the king’s favorite son? Amnon is worth forty of him!”
“The gatekeeper’s dog is worth forty of Absalom.” I did not wonder that Absalom was the favored child; David always swore Absalom was himself when young.
“And Amnon would be a fine king, like his father—” Bathsheba stopped, and reddened. “I know that does not sound well, Michal—but—but King David—”
“Is not a god. All men die, even kings. We all think of the future, if we are wise. Is it disloyal to think of the kingdom’s welfare?”
Yes, Amnon would be a fine king—but Amnon did not care whether he became king or not.
And Absalom cared too much.
 
 
So there was no open quarrel then, but Absalom was bitter against his brother, and all knew it. Amnon tried to make peace, but Absalom turned his face from Amnon, and so at last Amnon abandoned the useless effort.
For Absalom thought himself injured, and he himself kept his wound open and sore. And Amnon was a young man new in love. There were better ways for Amnon to pass the time than in striving to please Absalom.
And there were better ways for Absalom to pass the time than in quarreling with his brother. While Amnon walked with Tamar among the palace gardens, Absalom walked with King David among the palace halls. While Amnon played love-tunes to Tamar upon his harp, Absalom poured venom into David’s ear.
Behind David’s throne, Amnon kissed Tamar in the secret room that was no secret.
And beside David’s throne, Absalom warned of a prince who would be king.
But for a time there was peace again in David’s house. An uneasy peace, fragile as cobweb.
A peace that could not last.
 
 
“The king quarreled with his sons today.” Narkis freed my hair from its woven and jeweled braids. She would comb it smooth before braiding it down my back against the night.
“That is no new thing.” I reached up and ran my hands through my loosened hair. “What have you heard?”
“That Prince Absalom spent all the day with King David.”
“That too is no new thing.” I sat quiet under Narkis skilled hands.
“That Prince Amnon again asked the king for the Princess Tamar.” Narkis set the comb aside and began plaiting my hair. “And that the king did not wish to hear him, but Prince Amnon would speak.”
“And? Not so tight; my head aches tonight.”
“I will tell Saya to bring cool water to bathe your face. Prince Amnon said that he had waited a month, and that King David must answer. Prince Amnon said, ‘Your daughter Tamar is fourteen—is
she never to be a wife?’ And Prince Absalom laughed, and said, ‘Not yours, brother!’”
Narkis knotted gilded leather about the braid’s end. “Is it as the queen would have it now?”
“Yes, that will do. And the king said?”
“That Prince Absalom held himself too high. That Prince Amnon must not speak of this again. That Princess Tamar would wed where her father bid. And then the king said, ‘Do you think, my sons, that you are cleverer than I?’”
 
 
After that, Amnon left the king’s house and took a house for his own, in the city beyond the kings wall. I was not surprised, though David seemed to be, and did not like it.
“The boy thinks himself too fine to live in his father’s house. But he will have his way, and I am only his father; what can I do?” So David said, and smiled. But I knew David; he was not pleased.
Now Amnon had his own house; master under his own roof. Amnon had no wife, and so Tamar went often to her brother, to keep his house in order for him. At first she went only by day. Then she went by night as well—and stayed.
It was no secret; too many knew, and told. I called Tamar to me, once, to warn her. “Be careful,” I told her. “They say you go too often to Amnon’s house—and not as a sister. Oh, do not stare at me cow-eyed, child—once I loved as hot and hard as you. And do not stammer lies at me.”
Tamar stood there silent; under my hand her skin was hot as sand at noonday. Her eyes were oil-bright.
“Listen to me, Tamar. King David has forbidden your marriage to Amnon—now. So wait; be patient.”
“But I am fourteen now, Queen Michal!”
“Yes, I know. But do as I say, Tamar. Wait. I know the king, and his mind will change with the moon. But you must be patient, and not defy him. Let no one say you are more to Amnon than a good sister.”
“It is not my father,” Tamar burst out, “it is Absalom! Everyone knows that! My father does not care for me, only for Absalom! And Absalom—”
“Is a fool,” I said. “Listen to me, Tamar—”
“Oh, you do not understand!” she cried, and fled before I could say more. At fourteen, now is all there is, and tomorrow is endless years away.
 
 
Amnon was half a dozen years older than Tamar; he did not despair of happiness so easily. He sought an ally against King David. Amnon was not a fool; he thought of me.
Of Queen Michal, the woman to whom King David denied nothing.
 
 
I was walking through my courtyard when I heard the voices beyond my gate. Some quiet words, a laugh; I was not sure whose. A voice raised in anger; Absalom’s. I walked cat-footed over to the ebony gate and stood quiet in its shadow so that I might see and hear.
It was Tamar, and Amnon, and Absalom. They did not see me; they heeded only each other. Absalom had caught Amnon’s sleeve, as if to hold him back from my gate.
“Our father is blind, Amnon, but I am not. Marry Tamar—yes, and set yourselves up as king and queen! Well, you will not have her—and you will not be named king, either! What right have you, more than I?”
Amnon laughed, and flung an arm around Absalom. “Any right I have I will give you gladly as Tamar’s bride-price! Come, brother, will you not help me in this? Perhaps if you add your words to mine, our father will heed—”
Absalom flung Amnon’s arm off. “Never!”
“Oh, brother, please—” Tamar caught at Absalom’s hand. “I shall die if I may not wed Amnon—I care for nothing else, nothing, I swear it—”
“Liar.” Absalom hurled words harsh as stones. “Harlot. You are no sister of mine—”
Tamar’s eyes widened; she, too, was a king’s proud child. “Then I may do as I please, and as my father pleases! And Queen Michal will help us, if you will not! You are a beast, Absalom, and wish to see no one happy but yourself!”
Absalom answered her with a blow. Not a slap, as any brother might strike his sister in heat and anger—or she him. Absalom struck Tamar with a warrior’s clenched fist. The blow swept her off her feet; Tamar cried out as she fell.
Amnon sprang forward; he grabbed Absalom’s shining hair and smashed his fist into Absalom’s proud face. Once only, as Absalom had struck Tamar. Then Amnon let Absalom go.
“Never do that, brother,” Amnon said. “The next time I shall beat you as you like to beat others.”
Then Amnon knelt beside Tamar, who sat weeping, her hand pressed against her cheek. “Hush, my sister, my dove. Let me see—there, it is only a bruise. It will heal.” Amnon bent over her, gentle as a shepherd with a frightened lamb. Tamar clung to him, and wept.
Absalom stood back from them, all hot arrogance. His mouth curled, as if he would spit venom. Amnon’s blow already darkened his smooth cheek; Absalom could not bear marring. For Absalom, it was perfection or it was nothing, and so he found life hard.
“My rings scarred her,” Absalom told Amnon now. “See, she bleeds.”
Tamar sobbed louder; Amnon pulled her hands away from her face, and laughed. Amnon made it sound an easy thing, to laugh. “A scratch only,” he said to Tamar. And to Absalom, “Do you think I would care? I do not love Tamar only for her pretty face. You’re a fool, brother.”
“No,” said Absalom. “It is you who are the fool.”
I came forward then, out of the shadows of the ebony gate. “You are both fools to quarrel so loudly. King David likes peace in his house.”
Absalom glared at me, then bowed his head. Amnon met my eyes straight. “I do not wish to quarrel, Queen Michal. I will beg Absalom’s pardon, if he will beg Tamar’s.”
Absalom’s head came up. “Never. She is what I say she is. And you—”
I clapped my hands together, sharp. “Prince Absalom! No, do not speak; I heard it all—yes, and saw it, too. You had no cause to strike her, and your father would not like to hear of it.”
Tamar looked up, then. She smiled at me, though her cheek was crimson and her eyes wet. So young, and so loving—as Bathsheba was. As I once had been.
And Amnon, cradling her in his arms—strong and wise, and gentle too. A true prince.
Amnon rose to his feet, and lifted Tamar to stand close beside him. “If the queen heard it all, then the queen knows what—”
“What all the world knows,” Absalom cut across Amnon’s measured words. “That you and my sister—”
“Be silent!” My voice cut keener than Absalom’s. “Is King David dead, that you talk so under his own roof?”
That silenced Absalom, who stood sullen as Amnon drew Tamar toward me. “O Queen, you know what we wish.” Amnon hesitated then, looking at me with his clear beautiful eyes.
“You wish to marry your half-sister Tamar,” I said. “And she you.
“Oh, yes,” said Tamar. “Yes. I will die if I do not.”
“No,” I said, smiling. “But you will be unhappy if you do not.
Amnon too smiled, and hugged Tamar to him. “I care nothing for the crown, though Absalom here will not believe it—”
“I am not a fool!” Absalom spat out.
“Nor am I, brother. Care rests heavier upon our father’s head
than does that pretty golden crown. There is more to being king than having all about you kiss your sandals.”
“And say how fine and handsome you are!” Tamar said, safe under Amnon’s arm.
Absalom glared at his sister, but did not move, or speak. He was not a total fool, or so I thought that day. I did not know, then, how very unwise Absalom was, or how cruel. Or how much he coveted the band of gold that circled his father David’s head.
“We came to beg the queen’s help.” Amnon stroked Tamar’s arm and bade her be still. “If the queen knows so much, then she knows what boon I would ask of her.”
I laughed, then. “Oh, yes, Prince Amnon, even I can guess that!”
“The queen is the wisest of women.” Amnon grinned at me; his smile sent an arrow of pain through my heart. If only David had ever been what I thought him, when I was as young and hot as Tamar—
But if he had, there would be no Bathsheba, no Solomon. Perhaps there would be no kingdom; for the first time I wondered what Israel and Judah would be now, without King David. Squabbling tribes, or Philistine slaves? Or nothing?
But there
was
a kingdom; Judah and Israel united from Dan to Beersheba. One kingdom, and one king. And peace within that kingdom’s borders. The next king must take what David had forged from blood and grief and hold it safe.
Absalom was no king. Absalom thought kingship a bauble, a toy to play with.
But Amnon—Amnon was the eldest, as well as the best; a strong claim that would be made stronger still by marriage to his half-sister Tamar. A family’s inheritance was often kept whole by such marriages—to cousin or to half-sister. That David’s property was a kingdom only made its passage to the next generation, safe and whole, more vital.
Amnon,
I thought.
Yes, the next king should be Amnon. Even David must see that, and say it, too. King David is not so young as he
was; it is time he spoke, and named his heir.
Amnon. And the first step would be Amnon and Tamar’s marriage.
So I thought, and so I spoke. “Since you both wish it so, I will speak to King David and plead your cause. Does that please you?”
Tamar’s eyes widened and she squeaked like an excited kitten. “Oh—Queen Michal—you
will
?”
“Yes,” I said, smiling. “I will speak to King David for you. I see no reason you should not marry Amnon.”
I looked at Absalom as I spoke; he glared dark and sullen as a storm-cloud.
No
, I thought.
Not Absalom.
Amnon caught up my hands and kissed them. “Then we are as good as wed, for surely my father will grant whatever you ask.”
“Perhaps,” I said. “He may not. But I will ask.”
“Love can deny love nothing,” Amnon said, and smiled down at Tamar, and touched his finger to her reddened cheek.
That was how last I saw them—Amnon smiling at Tamar as she gazed up at him, her eyes hot as stars—and the mark of Absalom’s hand scarlet upon her face.

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