Unspoken by Francine Rivers

the king. She was never alone, for more than two hundred people lived in David’s palace—six of his other wives, their numerous handmaidens, his children, servants, secretaries, craftsmen, laborers, nannies, caretakers, cooks, guards, porters, stewards, and artisans. There were also many faithful elderly retainers and old soldiers who could no longer carry arms. A stream of visitors came and went into the palace as David’s wives visited with their family members and entertained.
    No one came to visit Bathsheba.
    When David’s wives gathered for the evening meal, they did not include her in their conversation, nor even acknowledge her presence. His older sons did look at her—pointedly: Amnon, the eldest, with lasciviousness; Absalom, with contempt. These women and their children were her family now, and Ahinoam had spoken for most of them the day Bathsheba had been shown into the women’s quarter: “So this is the king’s whore!”
    She remembered overhearing her grandfather say to her father years ago, “Never trust anyone outside your own family.” But Bathsheba knew she could never trust any of these women or their sons, and her child would always be in danger.
    The days wore on her like a windstorm over stone. Whispered words blew harsh, rubbing painfully, reshaping her. Bathsheba sat alone, consoling herself with love for the child she carried. When her son came, she wouldn’t give him up to a wet nurse or a nanny. She would keep him with her and love him. And if the child was a girl, she would watch over her and train her into womanhood herself, rather than entrust her to the care of others. And she hoped. Let the child be a son to make David proud!
    She waited a month before letting the news be known that she was carrying the king’s child. There were some in the palace whose loyalty toward David ran so deep they refused to think ill of him, no matter what others whispered. They rejoiced that the king’s household was about to grow by another child. However, there were many who cast sidelong glances at her, lips sneering. Some would not look at her at all.
    The wives spent every day entertaining themselves with games, music, conversation. Some did handwork to while away the hours. Whenever word came that the king would spend the evening with them, they focused all their energies on preparing for his visitation. Each tried to outdo the others in beauty preparation. They primped and fussed, sending handmaidens hither and yon for whatever they thought might attract David’s attention. Ahinoam put on Egyptian kohl and Persian mascara. Maacah painted her toenails with henna and wore anklets. They all braided their hair and anointed themselves with perfume. Bathsheba bathed, brushed her hair until it shone and rippled over her shoulders and down her back, and wore the simple dress of a commoner. Let David remember her as she had been, not as she had become.
    When David entered the room, her heart leaped. She watched as he looked around. His gaze settled briefly upon her and his eyes glowed warmly. But he looked away, speaking to Ahinoam, who caressed his arm and smiled up at him as though he were the moon and the stars. Though he did not linger long, David wandered the room, pausing here and there, giving each a measure of attention.
    Bathsheba observed his every movement with increasing anguish. He greeted each woman with a smile, talked amicably, charmed them with a touch. He was so handsome, who would not love him? She felt a shaft of pain each time he brushed his knuckles against an upturned face, took a hand and kissed it, spoke a soft word, or laughed. The women flirted boldly, some so boldly Bathsheba wanted to scream and tear their hair out. But she remained in her seat, pretending a calm she didn’t feel. When David sat upon a cushion, he was surrounded and caressed. He looked at her only one more time, but she took little comfort in the darkening of his eyes, for his attention was drawn away almost