Bathsheba by Angela Hunt Page A

out to milk the goat, then she caught my arm. She had been watching me with wary eyes, and with a firm voice she bade me sit.
    “You have not bled this month,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact. “I fear you are with child.”
    For the briefest instant, my heart expanded with exhilaration. I’d been praying for a baby, and Adonai had finally answered.
    But Elisheba’s sober expression reminded me of what I had momentarily forgotten. I wanted Uriah’s baby, and this child wouldn’t be his. I had been bleeding when he departed, so when my husband learned about this pregnancy, he would have every right to turn me out or have me stoned for adultery. Serious consequences, but more awful than death was the realization that my beloved Uriah would believe I had willingly gone to another man’s bed.
    “Elisheba, what shall I do?” The words broke from my lips in an agonized cry. “Uriah will know, and the news will kill him.”
    Elisheba pressed her lips together and dipped her head in a decisive nod. “I have been thinking about this, and I believe you have only one recourse. You did not willingly commit this sin against your husband; the blame belongs to another. So you must send word to that person and tell him what has happened. If he possesses even a shred of righteousness, he will do the right thing.”
    “But what is the right thing? Will he ask Uriah to divorce me? I don’t want Uriah to know about this. I love him. I don’t want to hurt him. I want to have his babies.”
    Elisheba sucked at the inside of her cheek for a minute, her brows working over her eyes. “I don’t know what the king will do. But the blame is his, so he should shoulder this responsibility. You must send word to him at once.”
    “I’m to blame.” I paced in front of her, clenching and unclenching my hands. “I should not have been bathing when the king was outside.”
    “How were you to know he was on the roof?”
    “If we’d placed the trough in the front courtyard—”
    “Then some other man might have seen you. Where else were you supposed to put the water trough, in the house? You were bathing inside your own courtyard. You were not exhibiting yourself.”
    “But I must have done something. I am a tob woman—”
    “Stop.” Elisheba grabbed my hands and held them as if she couldstill my frantic thoughts. “Do not do this. You are innocent; he is guilty. You are a beautiful woman, but he is a king who should follow Adonai’s Law. Do not take his sin upon yourself.”
    I wanted to believe her, but the rock of guilt in the pit of my stomach had not eroded with the passing days. “But Uriah is also innocent, and he will suffer for this. He will believe I was unfaithful. He will think I didn’t love him, that I wasn’t willing to wait for him—”
    “Not if the king confesses the truth.” Elisheba reached out and smoothed my tear-stained cheek. “I don’t know what possessed our king in this moment of folly, but your father always said that David truly fears the Lord. So trust the king to do the right thing, child. Trust your husband to know how much you love him. And trust in Adonai. His ways are far above our ways.”
    I chewed my bottom lip. I wanted to trust, but how could I be sure I wouldn’t be cast off or forsaken? The only completely trustworthy person I knew was Elisheba.
    Slowly, I met her gaze. “Will you come with me? If I go to the palace?”
    “I will, child.”
    After a long moment in which I fought for self-control, I squeezed Elisheba’s hands, plucked my cloak from the hook by the door, and called to Amaris in the back courtyard, “We are going out, sister. We’ll return soon.”
    With Elisheba by my side, I walked to the palace and waited outside the gate until I saw the guard who had escorted me to the rooftop. After catching his attention, I pulled him to the side of the road and gave him a message for the king. “Tell no one else,” I finished, glancing around to be sure no one watched