us. “And tell the king I’ll be waiting for his reply.”
The man glanced from me to Elisheba, whose face had gone fierce with protective love, then he left us.
Without the surge of courage that had propelled me to the palace, my knees went weak. I clung to Elisheba’s arm and prayed she was right about the king’s virtue. Though I couldn’t see any way to salvage the situation with my honor and dignity intact, I would be content to safeguard my husband’s love. If the king would summon Uriah and accept the blame for this pregnancy, Uriah might be able to forgive his king and accept this child as his own.
And in time, perhaps I could do likewise.
The next day I wandered restlessly through the house, my nerves as tight as harp strings. Every time I heard a voice in the street I hastened to the window, but hours passed with no sign of the guard who’d carried my message to the king. What if he had ignored my request? What if the king had ignored my message? How long should I wait before I took some other action?
I quietly decided that if the king did not respond within three days, I would leave the city. As a pregnant adulteress, my life in Jerusalem would be destroyed, my husband shamed, and my grandfather humiliated. So I would rise early and slip out of the city as the sun rose, walking north until I could walk no farther. I would be like Hagar and plan to die alone in the desert, but no merciful angel would appear to me. I would perish, and my shame along with me.
The second day passed like the first, and my pacing did not go unnoticed. Amaris asked why I was so jumpy, and Elisheba stared at me with speculation in her eyes, but I did not respond to either of them. If I had to leave Jerusalem, the less Elisheba and Amaris knew, the better off they’d be.
On the morning of the third day, I heard the creak of our courtyard gate. I hurried outside and met the guard, who regarded me not with the respect due a soldier’s wife, but with a smirk.
Embarrassed, I drew my mantle closer. “You have a message for me?”
The smirk deepened. “No message, but something else. This.” He held out a basket covered with a white cloth.
I stared at it, bewildered. The king had sent a basket, filled with what—an adder?
“Take it, woman.”
I accepted the odd gift, cautiously peeking under the covering. I saw a salted roast, a loaf of bread, and a few lebibot , delicate heart-shaped cakes. “What is this?”
Again the sly smile. “A gift for you and your husband.”
“But my husband is at Rabbah.”
“Not anymore.” The guard rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. “The king sent word to Joab yesterday, commanding him to send Uriah the Hittite back to Jerusalem. My guess is he’ll show up here later today.”
I blinked, baffled by this turn of events. At that moment Elisheba stepped out of the house. From the expression on her face, I knew she’d heard everything.
“Thank you,” she told the guard, gripping my arm. “Thank you for letting us know. We’ll prepare a good dinner for him.”
As the guard strolled away, I turned to her. “I don’t understand what any of this means.”
Elisheba slipped her arm around my shoulders and led me back into the house. “Child, you are far too inexperienced. The king has decided to send your husband to you. Uriah will come home and you will sleep with him. When the child is born, everyone will believe the babe is your husband’s. No one need ever know the truth.”
Relief and regret warred in my heart as I stared at the basket. “That . . . makes sense,” I admitted, grateful the king had found a way to prevent Uriah from knowing I’d been with another man. “But the king . . . well, he’s lying.”
“Would you rather your husband know what happened?” Elisheba gave me a sharp look, and I had to admit she had a point. I didn’t want to believe our king would prefer to cover his sin rather than confessing it, but for Uriah and me the
The man glanced from me to Elisheba, whose face had gone fierce with protective love, then he left us.
Without the surge of courage that had propelled me to the palace, my knees went weak. I clung to Elisheba’s arm and prayed she was right about the king’s virtue. Though I couldn’t see any way to salvage the situation with my honor and dignity intact, I would be content to safeguard my husband’s love. If the king would summon Uriah and accept the blame for this pregnancy, Uriah might be able to forgive his king and accept this child as his own.
And in time, perhaps I could do likewise.
The next day I wandered restlessly through the house, my nerves as tight as harp strings. Every time I heard a voice in the street I hastened to the window, but hours passed with no sign of the guard who’d carried my message to the king. What if he had ignored my request? What if the king had ignored my message? How long should I wait before I took some other action?
I quietly decided that if the king did not respond within three days, I would leave the city. As a pregnant adulteress, my life in Jerusalem would be destroyed, my husband shamed, and my grandfather humiliated. So I would rise early and slip out of the city as the sun rose, walking north until I could walk no farther. I would be like Hagar and plan to die alone in the desert, but no merciful angel would appear to me. I would perish, and my shame along with me.
The second day passed like the first, and my pacing did not go unnoticed. Amaris asked why I was so jumpy, and Elisheba stared at me with speculation in her eyes, but I did not respond to either of them. If I had to leave Jerusalem, the less Elisheba and Amaris knew, the better off they’d be.
On the morning of the third day, I heard the creak of our courtyard gate. I hurried outside and met the guard, who regarded me not with the respect due a soldier’s wife, but with a smirk.
Embarrassed, I drew my mantle closer. “You have a message for me?”
The smirk deepened. “No message, but something else. This.” He held out a basket covered with a white cloth.
I stared at it, bewildered. The king had sent a basket, filled with what—an adder?
“Take it, woman.”
I accepted the odd gift, cautiously peeking under the covering. I saw a salted roast, a loaf of bread, and a few lebibot , delicate heart-shaped cakes. “What is this?”
Again the sly smile. “A gift for you and your husband.”
“But my husband is at Rabbah.”
“Not anymore.” The guard rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. “The king sent word to Joab yesterday, commanding him to send Uriah the Hittite back to Jerusalem. My guess is he’ll show up here later today.”
I blinked, baffled by this turn of events. At that moment Elisheba stepped out of the house. From the expression on her face, I knew she’d heard everything.
“Thank you,” she told the guard, gripping my arm. “Thank you for letting us know. We’ll prepare a good dinner for him.”
As the guard strolled away, I turned to her. “I don’t understand what any of this means.”
Elisheba slipped her arm around my shoulders and led me back into the house. “Child, you are far too inexperienced. The king has decided to send your husband to you. Uriah will come home and you will sleep with him. When the child is born, everyone will believe the babe is your husband’s. No one need ever know the truth.”
Relief and regret warred in my heart as I stared at the basket. “That . . . makes sense,” I admitted, grateful the king had found a way to prevent Uriah from knowing I’d been with another man. “But the king . . . well, he’s lying.”
“Would you rather your husband know what happened?” Elisheba gave me a sharp look, and I had to admit she had a point. I didn’t want to believe our king would prefer to cover his sin rather than confessing it, but for Uriah and me the
Similar Books
