“This will help ease the pain.”

  David washed down the powder with the wine offered him, shaking his head as if to dispel the remnants from his tongue. “Tastes bitter.”

  “It comes from the bark of the willow tree, my lord, whose taste is unfortunately not pleasant.”

  David closed his eyes, and his breathing grew peaceful. Bathsheba stood looking down at him, a small sense of relief rushing through her. When David recovered, she must insist he name Solomon his coregent before they risked losing him again. If he did not act, her life would be forfeit.

  The illness lasted a week, but the effects lingered far beyond what David expected. In the daytime, chills swept through him, and at night he could not get warm, not even in Bathsheba’s arms. Months had come and gone, and this morning he lingered in his bed, the sun beckoning him, deceiving him with its promise of heat. During the winter rains the fiery orb had vanished behind a mountain of daily clouds, sinking his spirits. Did he dare trust the spring’s bright rays?

  How had his life come to this? He had ruled Israel for thirty-seven years. How long it seemed, and yet how short.

  A knock on his door drew his attention from the dredges of his melancholy thoughts. His attendant answered while he pulled the covers farther up to his chin. Perhaps a soak in hot water would penetrate the chill. But such visits to the heated mikvah did not last, and he could not spend the rest of his days in a room of steam or huddled before an open flame. Neither flame nor water could warm his bed, and Bathsheba’s changing body deceived her as well, making her too warm to get close to him. She tossed the covers, and her skin turned to sweat too often at his touch. Had all of his wives suffered such affliction? He had not spent much time with them in their later years to know.

  Disturbed with the guilt that thought produced, he brushed it aside and looked up at the sound of plodding feet, surprised to see Benaiah and Hushai at the foot of his bed.

  “What can I do for you, my friends?”

  “We have come to offer to help you, my lord,” Hushai said, loosening the neck of his robe. David kept the room as warm as he dared with hearth fires, which did not bode well for his counselors, who were always shedding their robes if they stayed too long.

  “And how can you help me, Hushai? Can you give me a new body that will hold the strength and vigor I once had? I am old. I didn’t think so a few months ago, but my body has betrayed me.”

  “We know you cannot keep warm, my lord, so we decided—” Benaiah glanced at Hushai, then back at David. “That is, we wanted to suggest that we look for a young virgin to bring to my lord king to bring back your desire, to keep you warm and attend your needs.”

  David smiled at Benaiah’s discomfiture as a flush crept up the man’s massive neck and filled his face. “Even a virgin is not likely to stir my blood, Benaiah. Some pleasures for me are past.”

  Was it true? But even Bathsheba no longer filled him with the desire for her he once had. His love for her went beyond physical touch. He kept her beside him now for comfort, for companionship.

  “Nevertheless, perhaps a beautiful young virgin would do more good than you realize. Pardon me for saying so, my lord, but you are not sitting with a foot in the grave yet.” Hushai straightened, folding his arms across his chest.

  “Perhaps you are right. Go ahead then. Find a young virgin to keep me warm.” He shivered beneath the woolen blankets, doubting even the most comely girl in Israel would make much difference.

  38

  The halls held an eerie quiet as Bathsheba took the steps from Solomon’s upper floor residence to her rooms closest to the king. Her daughter-in-law Naamah was four months from giving birth to her first child, and with each passing day, Bathsheba worried. Surely Naamah would birth a healthy son—the girl was strong and capable, not delicate like the new bride Abishag who continually warmed David’s bed.

  Still, Naamah’s health and safety did not trouble her nearly as much as David’s indecision. Was she jealous of the time Abishag now spent with him? But his own health had declined sharply in the six months since Solomon took Naamah to wife. She could not deny David this one last pleasure, though he had assured her that Abishag would remain a virgin until she passed into Solomon’s court.

  Bathsheba brushed lint from her clothes and continued down the hall toward her chambers. Why had David continued to put off naming Solomon king in his place? The thought, once a nagging concern, had now grown to a full-blown fear.

  Rumors had raged among the servants of the palace, and Tirzah was quick to keep her informed. Most of David’s other sons did not seem to pose a threat to Solomon, but Adonijah, son of Haggith, next in line for the throne, avoided Solomon’s company and moved about the city with chariots and horsemen and fifty men to run before him, as though he were already king in David’s place. He had not gone so far as to seek the priest’s anointing or to pull the men of Judah away from his father as Absalom had done, but she had no doubt his plans ran along those very lines. How would she know? His conspiracy could prove worse than Absalom’s if they didn’t catch it in time. And David’s illness had kept him so often from court that she wasn’t sure he even knew what was going on in his city.

  She paused at the entrance to her apartment, glancing at the door to the gardens connecting her rooms to David’s. Should she pay an unexpected visit and share her concerns? Abishag would be there. But she shouldn’t have an aversion to the girl. If all went according to plan, Abishag would be her daughter-in-law one day. Solomon would surely find the girl a gift once his father no longer had need of her.

  She shook her feelings aside and nodded to the guard, who opened the door to her rooms. The day of David’s death seemed ever closer—something she had never considered the night she had given herself into his arms. Their age difference meant she would be a widow a good many years. A sinking feeling settled in her middle, and she rubbed her temples, trying to forestall the headache these thoughts always produced.

  Oh, Adonai, I don’t want to lose him! Despite the years, he was precious to her. He had given her four handsome sons, two of them already grown men to be proud of—and one a king David himself would hold in high esteem, if he would simply stop putting off the inevitable and proclaim his replacement. Adonijah surely expected David to choose him, though in recent years anyone watching could tell David favored Solomon.

  She sank onto her cushioned couch and accepted a cup of wine from a servant. Tirzah had gone to the markets today and would return soon with fabric and ornaments and new trinkets from the east. Bathsheba should have taken Naamah and gone with her—the distraction would have done them both good. But the mood in the palace halls had given her pause and made her change her mind. She sipped the tepid drink and rested her head on the back of the couch, closing her eyes.

  A knock at the door jolted her. She was far too jumpy and nervous today. Whatever strange malady sparked the atmosphere, the guard’s entrance preceding the prophet Nathan did nothing to dispel it.

  She straightened as Nathan entered the room and bowed low at her feet. He rose, refusing the seat she indicated opposite from her.

  “Something troubles you, Nathan. What is it?” She set the goblet on a table beside her and rubbed her hands over her arms, her nerves making her skin tingle.

  Nathan paced a short path in front of her couch, dismissing the servants from the room. Bathsheba lifted a brow, surprised at his sudden use of authority that he did not actually possess in this place. But she did not stop him or question him.

  When the last servant had gone, he spoke. “Have you not heard that Adonijah the son of Haggith has become king, and David our lord does not know it?”

  She sucked in a breath. The eerie stillness, the hushed words and uncomfortable glances of servants who would not look her way . . . She had, at least deep down, suspected and known it was coming, if not today.

  “I had feared,” she said when her breath finally released. “I had sensed trouble. I have pleaded with David to act, to name Solomon his rightful heir as he promised, but this illness . . .” She let her words trail off and looked beyond Nathan toward the open window. To complain about her husband did no good whatsoever now. They must act. “What can we do?” Helplessness overwhelmed her.

  “If you will hear me, my lady, let me give you advice, that you may save your own life and the life of your son Solomon.”

  “We truly are in danger then.”

  Nathan nodded. “Yes. If these plans of Adonijah’s succeed and he gains the following of all Israel, you and your son Solomon will be considered usurpers and criminals. They will not care that Adonai chose Solomon as David’s rightful heir. The people will follow their own desires.”

  A rush of emotion added to her fear, and she could not speak.

  Nathan moved closer and sat at her side. “Go immediately to King David and say to him, ‘Did you not, my lord, O king, swear to your maidservant, saying, “Assuredly your son Solomon shall reign after me, and he shall sit on my throne”? Why then has Adonijah become king?’ Then, while you are still talking with the king, I will come in after you and confirm your words.”

  “He will listen to you,” she said, looking to him to assure her, knowing the relief she craved would elude her until this whole matter was settled.

  “He will listen if enough of us tell him it is true. Benaiah will be there, and Zadok the priest has not followed Adonijah. But Joab is not so trustworthy, and Abiathar has offered sacrifices on Adonijah’s behalf.” He abruptly stood. “But all is not yet lost. Go quickly and do this.”

  She stood at his behest and smoothed her skirt, glancing over her attire. She had not worn her best robes to visit Naamah, but the choice was one David favored. The rest of her coiffure and makeup would have to do—there was no time to freshen it.

  She hurried to the adjoining door to her gardens with Nathan following at her heels. He waited near the door while she spoke to the guard and sought her audience with the king.

  David huddled beneath a mound of blankets as Abishag tucked the last of the soft wool beneath his feet. The cushions of the couch were soft and gave him a chance to sit up. He grew weary of the bed. A cup of hot spiced wine rested between his hands. He sipped, smiling at Abishag.

  “Are you comfortable, my lord?” She bent close to his ear, the scent of her perfume tickling his senses. Of all the women in Israel, she was one of the most charming and beautiful, with curves in all the right places. The thought of her should have heated his blood, but the best emotion he could muster was appreciation as she served him food and offered him blankets and warm drinks. Any servant in his household could easily do the same things for him, but he admitted the sight of her was more pleasing than most. Still, his love for Bathsheba could never be replaced even by youthful beauty.

  “My lord?”

  He started at Abishag’s soft voice. “What? Oh yes, I am quite snug in all of these blankets. Thank you.” The perpetual chill in his bones had only slightly lessened, but to tell her so would only make her fuss over him more.

  A commotion coming from the door to his gardens made him sit straighter. Benaiah entered.

  “My lord, the lady Bathsheba would speak a word with you.”

  Bathsheba was here? She did not normally visit without a summons. “Send her in then.”

  She entered in her everyday attire, minus the jewels he had bestowed on her, her smile touching the deep places in his heart. But the lines near her eyes and across her brow betrayed her true feelings. She needed something important. She would not have come otherwise. She bowed, touching her forehead to the lion’s skin that covered the tile floor at his feet.

  “What is your wish?”

  She rose gracefully, hands stretched before her in an act of supplication. Worry lines increased along her forehead. “My lord, you swore by Adonai Eloheikhem, the Lord your God, to your maidservant, saying, ‘Assuredly Solomon your son shall reign after me, and he shall sit on my throne.’ But now Adonijah has become king, and my lord the king, you do not know about it.”

  David gave his head a slight shake, not sure he had heard correctly.

  “He has sacrificed oxen and fattened cattle and sheep in abundance, and has invited all the sons of the king, Abiathar the priest, and Joab. But he has not invited Solomon your servant. My lord the king, the eyes of all Israel are on you, to learn from you who will sit on the throne after you. Otherwise, as soon as my lord the king is laid to rest with his fathers, Solomon and I will be treated as criminals.”

  David straightened, and one of the blankets slipped from his shoulders. Abishag hurried to tuck it in behind him again, but he waved her away, extending a hand to Bathsheba instead. She clasped his fingers, and he jolted, almost jerking back at her icy touch. She was visibly shaking, and in that moment, he wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and comfort her as he once had.

  But Benaiah stepped into the room again, breaking his train of thought. He released his grip on her hand and she stepped back, allowing Benaiah to approach, followed by another man. David squinted, silently cursing the slight dimness around the edges of his vision.

  “My lord,” Benaiah said, bending forward. David wondered how the man could seem so young when in truth he was not many years behind David’s own age. “Nathan the prophet is here.”

  David recognized the prophet’s long hair and beard and his coarse robe and tunic. Nathan stepped into the place where Bathsheba had just stood and bowed low, his face to the ground.

  “Have you, my lord the king, declared that Adonijah shall be king after you, and that he will sit on your throne? Today he has gone down and sacrificed great numbers of cattle, fattened calves, and sheep. He has invited all the king’s sons, the commanders of the army, and Abiathar the priest. Right now they’re eating and drinking with him and saying, ‘Long live King Adonijah!’ But he did not invite me your servant, Zadok the priest, Benaiah son of Jehoiada, or your servant Solomon. Is this something my lord the king has done without letting his servants know who should sit on the throne after him?”

  Anger flared, heating his blood, stirring him to sit straighter. He let the blankets fall to his lap and looked at his veined hands, his gaze settling on the signet ring. The ring belonged to the one who would rule after him. Thoughts of Haggith and her son Adonijah surfaced, the young man’s handsome face reminding him too much of Absalom. They had both inherited David’s own apparent good looks, although where Absalom had Maacah’s dark, exotic beauty, Adonijah had the attractiveness of Joseph’s line, after his mother. But God had chosen Solomon, not Adonijah.

  “Call Bathsheba to me,” he said, folding his hands on his lap so the ringed hand rested on top.

  Nathan moved away, and Bathsheba once again stood before him suddenly looking as vulnerable as she had the first night he had wooed her. Surely she knew how much he loved her.

  “Beloved.” He spoke softly, wanting to comfort her. She met his gaze, and he beckoned her forward. She came and knelt at his side, and he took her hand, rubbing his thumb over her still smooth skin. “I vow to you, as surely as Adonai lives, who has delivered me out of every trouble, I will surely carry out today what I swore to you by Adonai Elohei Yisrael, the Lord, the God of Israel. Solomon your son shall be king after me, and he will sit on my throne in my place.”

  Tears skimmed her lashes, and he smiled. He pulled her closer and brushed a stray tear from her cheek. She leaned forward and kissed him, then lowered herself with her face to the ground. “May my lord King David live forever!”

  David bent toward her and touched the top of her head, the action more difficult than he expected. When had he become so weak? Had it only been a few months ago that he thought his kingdom, his rule, would last for many years to come, when he thought his life was far from over? How quickly his strength had faded, like the grass that withers.

  Bathsheba rose to her feet, and David motioned for her to sit beside him. She perched on the edge of the couch and took his hand again. He smiled, holding her gaze, then looked at a servant standing near. “Call in Zadok the priest, Nathan the prophet, and Benaiah son of Jehoiada.”

  He looked at Bathsheba while the man went to do his bidding. “Thank you, my lord,” she said, a remnant of tears still clinging to her lashes.

  He nodded, but before he could speak, Benaiah, Nathan, and Zadok approached. They must have been hoping he would act and waiting in the outer chambers. Thank God for three such trusted, loyal friends.

  He looked at each one in turn, hoping they could sense how much he trusted them, how grateful he was for their support. Surely his kingdom would fall into Adonijah’s hands, outside of Adonai’s will, without their help. And yet, nothing could fall outside of Adonai’s will. Even in this He was working all things for good.

  “Take your lord’s servants with you,” he said to Benaiah as he squeezed Bathsheba’s hand, “and set Solomon my son on my own mule and take him down to Gihon. Have Zadok the priest and Nathan the prophet anoint him king over Israel. Blow the trumpet and shout, ‘Long live King Solomon!’ Then you’re to go up with him, and he is to come and sit on my throne and reign in my place. I have appointed him ruler over Israel and Judah.”

  Benaiah stepped forward and fell to one knee. “Amen! May Adonai, the God of my lord the king, so declare it,” he said, his approval evident in his smile. Once, this faithful guard had disapproved of David’s foolish choices, and now his friend’s forgiveness and acceptance were a balm and a relief. Solomon would be wise to trust Benaiah, perhaps making him commander in Joab’s place.

  “As Adonai was with my lord the king,” Benaiah was saying, “so may He be with Solomon to make his throne even greater than the throne of my lord King David!”

  “May Adonai declare it,” Nathan and Zadok said in unison.

  As the men filed out of his chambers to do his bidding, David shifted in his seat and looked into Bathsheba’s beautiful face. “I should have done this a long time ago, beloved.”

 

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