Signs and Wonders (32 page)

Doeg went to David and said: “O giant killer, I know that your modesty is as great as your valor, and that you may not have allowed yourself to recognize what is so plain to everyone else, that the king loves you dearly. He loves you like his own son.”

Very much like his own son, thought David. He’s tried to kill Jonathan many times.

But David had learned enough about the ways of the court to mask his thoughts, and said: “Your words please me, Doeg. Indeed I owe the king my love and fealty and obedience.”

“Nay, I speak not like a smooth-tongued courtier!” cried Doeg. “I come to you with no ceremonial rhetoric, but with the simple truth. I tell you that the king delights in you. He wishes to make you his son, in fact. He offers you his daughter Michal as your bride.”

“He has empowered you to tell me this?”

“He has.”

“What can I answer?” said David. “Do you think it is a light thing to be the king’s son-in-law?”

“Not a light thing at all,” said Doeg, “but a supreme honor.”

“Do I merit this supreme honor? Who am I that I should be son-in-law to the king?”

“You are he who slew Goliath, he who preserved Israel. You are no shepherd now, but a captain and high among Saul’s captains. And he wishes you to marry his daughter.”

“I cannot even afford a groom gift,” said David. “I have no princely fortune to draw upon. I am a poor man.”

“The king who thinks of everything has thought of this, too. He asks only a token gift—the heads of two hundred Philistines slain in battle.”

“Convey my profound gratitude to the king,” said David. “When next I appear before his august presence, it shall be with the heads of two hundred Philistines slain in battle.”

David led his men toward Ashkelon, where a mighty host of Philistines were encamped. Gorgeous among the tents was the pavilion of Ashkelon’s king, for the Philistines had three kings, each holding a section of the coast. Their harbor cities were Gath and Ashkelon and Ashdot.

The king of Ashkelon had ten thousand men; David about eight hundred. David spoke to his men: “Do not let us consider our numbers. For the Lord multiplies us. Did He not guide my small stone and make it prevail against the gigantic spear and sword of Goliath? He is the Lord of hosts, wielder of man’s destiny, bestower of victory. He will magnify you against the Philistines until you are like a plowman stepping upon an anthill.”

His men shouted until the thunder of their voices filled the plain, and followed him in a headlong charge against the Philistines. This was the first time that David had led his own troops, and they followed him as lost men follow a ray of light in the darkness. They cut through the brass ranks of the Philistines, divided them, and wheeled and sliced a bloody path through them again, cutting the enemy into smaller and smaller pockets. The spirit of God rode upon their banners and they were irresistible. The enemy fought bravely, but suffered huge losses and had to flee the field. David beheaded two hundred of the corpses, and presented the helmeted heads to Saul.

“He is more a hero than ever,” said Saul to Doeg. “Is this the fruit of your wise counsel?”

Now, it is a courtier’s task to accept blame for the king’s bad ideas, and to give the king credit for all ideas that work. And Doeg said: “David is your captain, O King. His victories are your victories. Give him Michal as bride. Celebrate the marriage with royal splendor. You will be the master of revels, the great benefactor; his glory will be absorbed into your own. And consider this: Michal is your daughter. It may be that in days to come she will prove a snare unto David’s feet.”

“She’s in love with him. She will not betray him.”

“Not yet. She is not yet his wife. Give her time. But it may be wise to let passion wear itself out on the nuptial bed.”

Saul kept his promise. He gave his daughter Michal as bride to David. The marriage was celebrated with a round of magnificent feasts. But it was not Saul’s way to be crafty and diplomatic. His nature craved direct, brutal action. And his hatred of David robbed his days of purpose and his nights of sleep. He burned with rancor, and he knew that nothing would quench his torment but the sight of David dead. Nor did he seek to hide his feelings—even from Jonathan, who loved David.

The prince spoke to David: “My father means to kill you, and soon. Do not sleep at home. Hide yourself, and stay hidden.”

“Why? Why?” cried David. “I have offered him only loyalty and obedience.”

“Hide yourself in the field beyond the palace gates,” said Jonathan. “I shall walk in that field tomorrow and speak with him. I shall speak of you. You will hear him, and judge.”

David did not return home that night but slept in the field. In the morning Saul and Jonathan walked in the field. David heard Jonathan’s voice: “O King, my father, let me speak to you of David. Do not sin against him. He is your servant; he is innocent of any wrong. Consider his deeds. They are good, very good.”

David heard Saul’s voice answering, “You speak the truth, my son, and I shall hearken to your voice. As the Lord lives, David shall not be slain.”

Jonathan could not read his father’s mind. Had the venomous hatred passed like a fever? Or was the king dissembling, trying to disarm suspicion? But David wished to believe the king and went into his presence. He played the harp for Saul and sang to him, and Saul was pleasant to him.

Reports came that the Philistines were gathering in strength again. David went against them at Gath. He led his men in another brilliant, headlong charge and won another great victory. The people rejoiced and lined the roads where he marched, and split their throats cheering. And Saul’s rancor flared anew.

He called certain men to him and instructed them. They ringed David’s house. Michal saw them through a window; she knew who they were. She said to David: “My father has sent his assassins. Leave this house, beloved. Leave tonight, or you will be slain tomorrow.”

She let a rope out the window. David slid down and disappeared. She stuffed David’s robes with straw and placed them on her bed under a sheet, and set a pillow of goat’s hair as his head. She drew the blinds, so that the room was full of shadow.

The assassins waited outside the house all that night and the next day, but David did not appear. Their leader went to Saul and said: “He must suspect something, O King. He stays in the house and does not come out.”

Saul sent a message to David’s house, bidding him report to the palace. Michal met the messenger at the door and said: “My husband cannot leave the house. He is sick.”

“I must see him. I bring a message from the king.”

“You may see him,” said Michal. “But he is too ill to speak.”

She took the messenger to her bedroom. The man saw a shape in the bed and spoke the king’s message—but received no answer. “Go,” said Michal. “When he has recovered a little, he will go to the palace.”

The messenger returned to Saul and told him that David was too sick to leave his bed.

“Sick!” roared Saul. “I’ll make sure it’s fatal! I shall go there and drag him from his bed and slay him.”

He stormed to David’s house at the head of the Royal Guard. They burst into the bedroom and tore the sheet from the bed, and saw the robes stuffed with straw and the goat-hair pillow. Saul took Michal by the throat and said: “Why have you deceived me? Why have you helped my enemy escape?”

She put his hand aside and said: “You gave him to be my husband before God’s altar. In that holy place we vowed to be of one flesh. How can I help you slay him?”

Saul departed, but sent his men to pursue David, bidding them not to return until they had slain him.

David fled the city. He hid himself by day and traveled only by night. He made his way to Ramah, where the prophet Samuel dwelt. The fame of Samuel’s wisdom had spread, and a company of young men had come to dwell near him and learn from him. For it was believed that Samuel spoke directly to God.

Each day at noon, the old man would stand in an empty place before a stone altar, stand with his head bared to the full blaze of the sun, stretching his arms to the sky. No one spoke; there was absolute silence, a silence so profound you could hear the light vibrating. Upon certain days Samuel just stood there staring at the sky, staring and waiting—until his beard and hair and white garments were drenched, and his arms fell of their own weight. Then he would bow his head and walk away, for God had not shown Himself.

On other days his face would light up with joy and he would speak in a voice so deep it was like the mountain speaking. Some words were Samuel’s own, questioning and imploring; other words were God’s words, uttering themselves through Samuel. The young men wept for joy. Certain of them remembered the words that had been spoken, and, when they returned to the shade of their tents, wrote them down on tablets of clay.

Here it was that David came, fleeing Saul’s assassins. He sat among the company of young men the first day. It was a day when God did not speak. But when Samuel had dropped his arms, David leaped up and cried to the sky, “Deliver me from my enemies, O my God; defend me from those who rise up against me. Deliver me from the workers of iniquity; save me from bloody men. Lo, they lie in wait. They make a noise like a dog and go about the city. Scatter them with your wrath and bring them down, O Lord. Consume them with your wrath and let them know that God rules. And I will sing of your power. Yea, I will sing aloud of your mercy in the morning.”

They marveled to hear. David’s voice was not like thunder in the hills, but like a song. Like water dappling in the sunlight and birdcall—sometimes like a trumpet. The young men marveled, and Samuel was pleased.

Saul’s men went to Ramah seeking David. They went with swords to the altar. They saw a white-bearded old man talking to the sky. He turned on them and thundered, “O you who come with swords to this place, know this: The wicked are estranged from the womb; they go astray as soon as they are born. O God, let them melt away. He who bends his bow, let him be cut to pieces. As a snail melts under salt, let every one of them melt away. Let them pass away like the untimely birth of a woman. Let them not see the sun again!”

Saul’s men were terrified. The swords dropped from their hands. They fell to their knees, gibbering with terror. Samuel turned and walked away as they knelt on the ground. And Saul’s men stayed among the company of young men. They did not raise their hands against David, nor did they return to Saul.

When they did not return, Saul sent other men to pursue David. And they did not return. He sent others under strict instructions to go to Ramah and kill David. Saul waited. No man of this troop returned. Then Saul himself led a company of picked warriors to Ramah. He went to a well. His men drank and watered their horses. He inquired of the people where Samuel and David were, and was told, “They are in Naioth in Ramah.”

Saul led his warriors to Naioth. He saw a congregation of white-robed men standing still as trees; among them he saw his own men who had not returned. They were crowding about an altar. Before the altar stood Samuel and David, their faces transfigured with joy. Saul’s sword was in his hand, the great blade that had scythed down so many enemies, and the grip of his hand was mighty upon it. He shouted to his men, but the tongue froze in his mouth and no words came. The sword was twitched from his hand. A terrible, nameless pain gripped his bowels. He staggered forward, lurching like a blind man. His robes burned like nettles. He tore his clothes off and knelt before the altar, sobbing like a child: “I seek you, O God; my soul thirsts for you, my flesh yearns for you in a dry and thirsty land where no water is. Return to me, and my soul shall be satisfied as with marrow and fatness; my lips shall praise you. I will remember you upon my bed and meditate on you in the night watches. Return, return, forgive and return!”

“Glory be to God!” cried David. “The king repents!”

“Do not delude yourself,” said Samuel. “He repents as easily as he sins, and will sin again.”

But the sight of King Saul groveling naked in the dust moved David past prudence. He wanted to forget all the evil Saul had done. He wanted to believe in the king again. Samuel led him some paces away and said: “Leave this place. Leave now. The king’s mood will change, and the thought of how he has abased himself before you will make him hate you more than ever.”

David heeded the words of Samuel and left that place. He sought out Jonathan and said: “Your father hunts me from place to place. Truly as the Lord lives, there is but a step between me and death.”

“How can I help you, my brother?”

David fell silent. He studied Jonathan’s face. “We are more than brother, and we love each other,” he said. “Nevertheless, you cannot risk your father’s displeasure. I ask this: Do not let your father kill me. Slay me yourself, so that my last sight on earth will be the face that I have loved.”

“I would rather lift my hand against myself,” said Jonathan. “Let me try my father one more time. I will go to him and speak for you.”

“Go,” said David. “You will find me in the wheatfield where I hid before.”

Jonathan went to Saul and pleaded for David’s life. Saul’s face writhed with fury. Foam flecked his lips. “Perverse rebellious fool!” he cried. “You are so enamored of that sly little demon that you conspire against your father and forfeit your own legacy. When I die, he will brush you aside like a gnat and exterminate your children and seize the throne for himself. I may as well kill you now and save him the trouble.”

He snatched up his javelin and hurled it at his son. Jonathan moved away just in time. He did not flee. He looked silently at his father, then walked away. He went to David in the wheatfield.

“You must flee,” he said. “I will come to you as soon as I can.”

“Do not come to me,” said David. “Your father has lost his touch in warfare. You must act like his eldest son and lead the army. You will have work enough. The Philistine grows stronger each day.”

“We are bound in brotherhood forever,” said Jonathan. “I know you love me and will be kind to me while I live. But swear this to me, that when the Lord has swept the enemies of David off the earth and brought you to the triumph He has designed for you, then, if I be dead, extend your kindness to my children and do not cut them off.”