Free Unspoken by Francine Rivers Page B

She’d served to sate his desire for a night. She meant nothing to him. He’d probably forgotten all about her until she sent him that message! Did he curse the inconvenience of her conception?
    “What have I done?” She groaned, her arms hugging herself as she rocked back and forth. “What have I done?”
    Joram returned. “Your husband is sitting at the door of the king’s house with all the servants of David. I told him of what the king sent in his honor.” He stepped forward. “You must go to Uriah, my lady. Go to him and do whatever you must to bring your husband home to you for the night. It is the king’s wish that you do so.”
    The king’s wish.
    If she fulfilled her part in the abominable plan, the king’s reputation would be unblemished by scandal, she would live, the child would live, and Uriah would never know the truth. She could go on pretending she was the dutiful, loving, faithful wife. She could have the child she’d longed for. The people would be spared the same anguish she now felt, realizing the man she’d loved and worshiped for so many years was deeply flawed. He was no longer the charismatic boy who had killed Goliath and rallied the nation. He was a king whom power had corrupted, for he had become selfish, cunning, and capable of deceit.
    Bathsheba felt unclean and helpless. David was presenting her with a way to survive. If she didn’t go through with it, she’d die. So would the child she carried.
    “Go,” she said softly. “Just go and leave me to do what I must.” She closed the door behind Joram. Dismissing her maid for the night, she took up her shawl and went out of the house. She stood in the darkness for a long time, feeling it press in around her. She wished she could think of another way out of the mess she’d stepped into when she had freely allowed the king to gaze upon her in her bath. As she walked along the moonlit street, she looked up at the wall of the palace where David had stood gazing down at her as she bathed. And she realized, even now, her feelings for him hadn’t changed. How was it possible, with her eyes wide open, that she could still love David so much?
    She saw the palace gate, closed for the night. Guards were still posted. She approached slowly, her heart in her throat. Would they ask her name, ask her purpose in coming? Or would they be among the many soldiers she’d met at her father’s campfire, or who served in the house of her husband?
    Two soldiers stepped forward. “Woman, why do you come at this hour?”
    “I am Bathsheba, wife of Uriah. I was told my husband has returned from Rabbah.”
    “Uriah is bedded down inside the gate with the king’s servants. He is among friends.”
    She felt the cold wind blowing.
    Did men talk among themselves as women did? Were rumors circulating among the palace servants? Even if they were, who would dare tell Uriah that his friend, the king, had cuckolded him?
    “I will tell him you’re here,” the other guard said and left them. The guard who had spoken first returned to his position without a word. He didn’t look at her. Bathsheba understood the implications of his rudeness. He knew about her affair with the king.
    How many others knew?
    She kept her face covered as she waited. The city slept and only the guard was present, but she could feel eyes upon her, eyes that saw through her subterfuge and into her heart. She wanted to cower and hide, but knew she would never escape.
    The gate was opening. The guard reappeared and her husband followed.
    As Uriah walked toward her, her heart hammered. She turned slightly and took a few steps away from the gate so they would have privacy to talk. When he stopped before her, she raised her eyes and saw his troubled expression. He searched her face intently, but didn’t speak.
    “The king sent a feast to our house to welcome you home.” Her voice trembled.
    His eyes flickered, and then an expression spread across his face that made her go cold. Something