Michal by Jill Eileen Smith Page A

to her and smile. His confidence did nothing to quell the sinking feeling in her heart.

    Two months later, Saul paced the small chamber inside the city gate, waiting for some sign of the triumphant returning army. Word had reached him that morning of the throngs lining the city streets from Gibeah to the Philistine border. His choice soldiers under the command of Abner, Jonathan, and David had made a significant dent in the enemy’s strongholds in Israel.
    Saul’s fists clenched so tight that his nails dug into his palms and his arms began to ache. He should have gone with them. By allowing them to go without him, that upstart, no-good son-in-law of his had grown more famous as he’d led the men to yet another victory. A victory that should have been his.
    He folded his arms across his chest and gripped his biceps, willing his body to become still, to stop the trembling. He must get hold of himself. What kind of a king worried about an insignificant army commander? With shaking hands, he smoothed the wrinkles from his purple robe. He must speak to the servants. A king’s robe should never be wrinkled.
    He left the chamber and climbed the steps into the tower. From this vantage point, he could see the crowds four and five people deep on either side of the dirt path through the gates and along the winding road that led to Gibeah. Dust rose in great clouds in the distance, indicating the coming of a large company. The jingling sound of a tambourine joined the melodic trill of a flute. Moments later a loud chorus of women began singing.
    “Saul has slain his thousands, and David his ten thousands. Saul has slain his thousands, and David his ten thousands.”
    The dust settled behind the feet of three thousand soldiers as they marched toward Gibeah. At their head, Saul’s three commanders rode black horses. They pranced toward the gates as Saul hurried down the steps. He would meet them in a special chamber in the gate, where complaints were often brought and judgments were passed. A raised dais of ivory inlaid with gold stood along the center of the back wall. Guards flanked either side of the throne, and Saul took his place between them. He was king, he reminded himself as he tried to block out the sound of the infamous victory song. The people were only praising David because he’d killed the giant. They’d forget about him soon enough.
    The noise grew louder as the crowd drew closer to the gate. A horse whinnied and another snorted.
    What’s taking them so long?
    “David . . . David . . . David . . . David . . .”
    A chant began outside, and Saul walked to the window to look out. David waved his arms and waited for the crowd to quiet. “Thank you. The Lord is good.”
    The people cheered, and David held up his hand for silence. “The Lord gave the armies of Israel a great victory. Let us remember that it is not by the strength of man but by the Lord’s might that we are successful.”
    Women took up the flute and tambourine again, but David stopped them with a disapproving shake of his head. “Sing your praises to the Lord Most High, not to me.” He hopped off his horse and followed Abner and Jonathan into the judgment chamber.
    Saul slipped back to his throne, seething. How dare the people praise David over Abner and Jonathan. His son-in-law’s status was rising above his own son, heir to his throne. He clenched and unclenched his fists. David would continue to snatch the glory away from Jonathan. There would be no end of it. Every time Saul had sent him to war in the last nine months, he had returned victorious. Only this time the crowds were larger, the praises louder.
    “Saul has slain his thousands, and David his ten thousands.”
    The song came through the walls of the tower, growing and swelling like a living thing as his three commanders filed through the door and knelt at his feet.
    He drummed the arm of the chair with tense fingers while Abner began to speak. What was he saying? Something about