Queenmaker: A Novel of King David's Queen by Edghill India

Author:Edghill, India [Edghill, India]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 2003-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

The summer that I first saw Bathsheba sitting on her housetop King David’s army was besieging Rabbah, chief city of the Ammonites. Another war—hardly worth a mention at the well. Bathsheba and I spoke of it only when we spoke of her husband Uriah, which was not often. He rarely sent her messages, and she seemed content enough without him.

“Oh, he is a good enough man, I suppose, Micha!—but—”

“But not what you dreamed of as a maiden in your father’s house?”

She shook her head. “I know he is a good man, but he never talks of love, only of war, and of the future. Always it is wait, and later it will be better, and then I shall have fine gowns and maids to wait upon me. But that is not what I want—well, of course it would be very pleasant to have such things too. But he is always away, always fighting—and of course he always wins, but—” She stopped, and for a moment she would not look up at me.

But suppose he does not? Suppose he is injured, suppose he dies? That was what Bathsheba feared, and would not say. Yes, I thought, and Uriah has spent the gold that was hers, gold meant to keep her all the days after her husband was dead. And she does not even think of that!

And then a thought flashed through my mind like crystal through water. You are queen, Michal. If Uriah falls in battle, take Bathsheba into your own household. Does not David always swear he will give whatsoever you ask?The thought flared swift and bright; it startled me.

At last Bathsheba looked up, and her eyes were very bright. And what she said was, “But why can he never speak to me of love?”

“I do not know.” To tell truth, I was still turning that new thought over in my mind, judging its merit as I would judge a melon in the market. “Who can say why men act as they do?”

Then she looked at me, full of hope. “Perhaps you can tell me what I should do, to make Uriah love me. Everyone says that King David kisses the dust beneath your sandals. I have heard the songs about him and you.” She said this last almost in a whisper, as if the songs were secrets that I might not have heard.

“Everyone is wrong,” I said. “That is not what life is like, Bathsheba. And from all you have said, Uriah loves you well enough. Hot love makes cold marriage, in the end. Uriah is kind to you, is he not?” At least, from all I had heard, Uriah was not cruel—I thought it would be hard to be cruel to Bathsheba.

“Oh, yes, he is kind enough. But he is so dull.” Bathsheba sighed and her mouth drooped, and I laughed. Bathsheba was so young—no older than I had been when I first had married David.

“Easy for you to laugh,” she said, hurt. “You, who are married to King David!”

“Yes,” I said.

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