into athin line. “I would not worry about the matter. The king has always had a keen appetite when it comes to beautiful women. Good day.”
Without another word, he turned and walked away.
I stared after him, speechless. In my vision, Ahithophel had been clearly suspicious of the king’s activities. He spoke to David nearly every day, so had he said anything about the king’s actions on that night? The counselor was known as a virtuous man, so why hadn’t he said something to David?
Perhaps he had, and the king had repented. If so, why had Adonai allowed me to glimpse the king’s lust? The Lord did not reveal hidden things for His own amusement. He expected something of me, but what?
Perhaps Ahithophel had determined that the king intended no harm by sending a messenger to the woman at that late hour. But only a fool would come to that conclusion, and the king’s counselor was no fool.
If Ahithophel had been suspicious, if he had witnessed the arrival of an innocent woman intended for the king’s pleasure, and if he had said nothing to the king, my mind could form only one conclusion: perhaps the counselor was hoarding his knowledge, holding it close to his breast, either out of love for David or out of personal ambition.
Which was it? I waited, hoping Adonai would grant me some insight, but the Spirit of Adonai did not answer.
Chapter Fifteen Bathsheba
T HE TRUTH ARRIVED , not as an exhilarating burst of mental illumination but as a sliver of understanding that connected to a moment of revelation and an inescapable feeling of guilt. Willingly or not, I had enticed the king to commit the act that haunted my sleep and filled me with disgust. Because I was a tob woman, I had to bear the blame and the shame for everything that happened.
My emotions vacillated from one extreme to the other after that fateful night. For Amaris’s sake, and for Elisheba’s, I tried to pretend nothing had happened and I had not been changed. But in the midst of my daily activities I would close my eyes and see the patterned canopy over the king’s couch. I would wake feeling nauseous with memory, so my appetite waned. Often in the course of a day I would inhale a scent I had breathed on that rooftop—a honeysuckle vine, or a perfumed oil—and my stomach would churn.
I cried easily. I wanted to sleep longer than usual, and littleannoyances infuriated me to the point that I once picked up Elisheba’s favorite oil lamp and flung it against the wall, shattering it.
Though Amaris gaped at my uncharacteristic display of temper, Elisheba did not rebuke me, but picked up the broken pottery and urged me to lie down. I had never spent so much time sleeping, but what else could I do with the rest of my life?
As the time for my monthly courses drew near, I dreaded the thought of my ritual bath. Elisheba would not want to move the heavy mikvah into the house, but I would never again be able to bathe in the back garden. The goat might not care if the king spied from above, but in the past month I hadn’t even been able to go out and milk her. Amaris had taken over the chore after Elisheba said I missed Uriah too much to spend time in the courtyard, where we used to watch the stars together.
Though my bruises had faded, my wounds remained. Exacerbating them was a growing fear that I would not be able to greet my husband without giving away my secret. How could I let him hold me without feeling the king’s hands on my arms? How could I let him look at me without remembering the king’s scorching stare? My future looked hopeless, and I dreaded the day I would see Uriah again. How could I welcome him, soiled and shamed as I was?
Days passed, and yet my courses did not flow. I told myself that my emotional upset had confused my body. I thought I would eventually return to normal, but until then I would continue to sleep like a dead woman and sicken at the slightest memory of the king.
After seven weeks had passed, Elisheba sent Amaris
Without another word, he turned and walked away.
I stared after him, speechless. In my vision, Ahithophel had been clearly suspicious of the king’s activities. He spoke to David nearly every day, so had he said anything about the king’s actions on that night? The counselor was known as a virtuous man, so why hadn’t he said something to David?
Perhaps he had, and the king had repented. If so, why had Adonai allowed me to glimpse the king’s lust? The Lord did not reveal hidden things for His own amusement. He expected something of me, but what?
Perhaps Ahithophel had determined that the king intended no harm by sending a messenger to the woman at that late hour. But only a fool would come to that conclusion, and the king’s counselor was no fool.
If Ahithophel had been suspicious, if he had witnessed the arrival of an innocent woman intended for the king’s pleasure, and if he had said nothing to the king, my mind could form only one conclusion: perhaps the counselor was hoarding his knowledge, holding it close to his breast, either out of love for David or out of personal ambition.
Which was it? I waited, hoping Adonai would grant me some insight, but the Spirit of Adonai did not answer.
Chapter Fifteen Bathsheba
T HE TRUTH ARRIVED , not as an exhilarating burst of mental illumination but as a sliver of understanding that connected to a moment of revelation and an inescapable feeling of guilt. Willingly or not, I had enticed the king to commit the act that haunted my sleep and filled me with disgust. Because I was a tob woman, I had to bear the blame and the shame for everything that happened.
My emotions vacillated from one extreme to the other after that fateful night. For Amaris’s sake, and for Elisheba’s, I tried to pretend nothing had happened and I had not been changed. But in the midst of my daily activities I would close my eyes and see the patterned canopy over the king’s couch. I would wake feeling nauseous with memory, so my appetite waned. Often in the course of a day I would inhale a scent I had breathed on that rooftop—a honeysuckle vine, or a perfumed oil—and my stomach would churn.
I cried easily. I wanted to sleep longer than usual, and littleannoyances infuriated me to the point that I once picked up Elisheba’s favorite oil lamp and flung it against the wall, shattering it.
Though Amaris gaped at my uncharacteristic display of temper, Elisheba did not rebuke me, but picked up the broken pottery and urged me to lie down. I had never spent so much time sleeping, but what else could I do with the rest of my life?
As the time for my monthly courses drew near, I dreaded the thought of my ritual bath. Elisheba would not want to move the heavy mikvah into the house, but I would never again be able to bathe in the back garden. The goat might not care if the king spied from above, but in the past month I hadn’t even been able to go out and milk her. Amaris had taken over the chore after Elisheba said I missed Uriah too much to spend time in the courtyard, where we used to watch the stars together.
Though my bruises had faded, my wounds remained. Exacerbating them was a growing fear that I would not be able to greet my husband without giving away my secret. How could I let him hold me without feeling the king’s hands on my arms? How could I let him look at me without remembering the king’s scorching stare? My future looked hopeless, and I dreaded the day I would see Uriah again. How could I welcome him, soiled and shamed as I was?
Days passed, and yet my courses did not flow. I told myself that my emotional upset had confused my body. I thought I would eventually return to normal, but until then I would continue to sleep like a dead woman and sicken at the slightest memory of the king.
After seven weeks had passed, Elisheba sent Amaris
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