David and the Philistine Woman by Paul Boorstin

Author:Paul Boorstin [Boorstin, Paul]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-78535-538-7
Publisher: John Hunt Publishing
Published: 2017-07-28T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 32

Moving the graven image would be no easy task. It was cast of bronze, so heavy that Nara doubted any man in Gath other than Goliath could lift it. And yet, she vowed to move the idol by herself. Was she not mighty like her husband? That she was with child made it more difficult, but it did not worry her. She told herself that it was because she carried a son that she must do this.

From the moment he enters the world, my son must experience the flowering abundance of life. That I am doing this out of love for him will only increase my strength.

Reaching down with her powerful arms, she clutched the base of the massive figure. She could not lift it, but perhaps she could drag it. Summoning all her might, she slowly pulled the idol away from the window, into a shadowy corner.

Once more, her son’s crib looked out onto the sweet-scented garden. She felt no guilt at defying Dalziel’s wishes. Her child would now be free to admire the green and growing things that flourished in the sunlight, free to inhale the scent of orange blossoms. Did her son not deserve the abundance of a bountiful world? She told herself that in this duel of wills with Dalziel, she had won.

Her joy was short-lived. As she turned away from the window, a sudden twinge shot through her belly. The throbbing tightened into a stab of pain. Cramps seized hold of her, growing more intense. With the next spasm, she staggered backward and collapsed onto the birthing stool. Though she knew that the bride of Goliath must never show weakness, she cried out.

Hada ran into the chamber. She saw Nara bent over on the birthing stool with drops of blood on the floor beneath her. “No one must see the blood,” Hada whispered, and knelt down to wipe it off the floor with the sleeve of her robe. She seized one of the baskets of white rose petals placed nearby and hastily slid it under the birthing stool.

Nara glanced down at the petals in the basket beneath her: Blood was dripping onto them. “What is happening?” Tears filled her eyes.

“Be calm, my dove,” Hada said.

The blood flowed copiously now, drenching her robe and the basket of flowers beneath her. “Why has Dagon done this to me?”

“It is not for us to know the will of the gods,” her aunt said guardedly. “No god is more unforgiving than the god of the Philistines.”

A violent spasm wrenched Nara’s womb. She groaned. In the next contraction, she felt something expelled from within her.

On her hands and knees, Hada searched through the bloodstained rose petals in the basket. She found what she was looking for and cupped it gently between her hands. Nara forced herself to gaze down at this thing that had lived inside her, a twisted growth, a seedling of flesh and viscera.

Hada clapped a hand over her niece’s eyes. “Such things are not meant for a mother to see.

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