Free Queenmaker by India Edghill Page A

man; he neither laughed nor beat me senseless. “Yes, everyone will know that David has married Nabal’s widow,” he said, and stroked me as if I were a kitten. “Come, daughter of Saul, would you have it said at the well and in the village that you lie weeping for David, who has abandoned you?”
    I sat up. “I hate David! May Yahweh strike him dead!”
    “You and Yahweh need not concern yourselves, Michal. Men like David will always make their own problems.” He put an arm around my shoulders. “Now dry your eyes or they will be redder than poppies. You are too pretty a girl to weep for any man. Make them weep for you.”
    His voice was rough, his words blunt-edged, not supple and sweet as David’s were. Yet they made me turn to him; I hid my face against his chest and wept again. “They will laugh at me in the street! How can I go to the fields, or the well, or—”
    “They will not laugh if you laugh first.” Phaltiel set me back and took my chin in his hand to make me look at him. “Laugh, little princess, and hold your head high, and make it a joke before the world does.”
    His words warmed me and gave me some hope. I sniffled, and let him wipe my face, and hold me, while I thought. Everyone would know the tale; that could not be helped now. But the blow
to my heart no one could see, if I did not choose to show it. If David cared nothing for me, then the world should see I cared nothing for David.
    And David should see and hear that Michal was happy without him. I would not let David think I went with dust on my hair and tears in my gown for love of him.
    I looked through my lashes at Phaltiel. It was true that he was not young, and not handsome, and not a hero. But he was a good man, and had been kind to me. Now I would be kind to him, and David would know that Michal preferred her second husband to her first.
    And so I flung my arms around Phaltiel’s neck and kissed him as I had learned to kiss a man on my first wedding night. I must have surprised Phaltiel indeed, for he did not kiss me back. I opened my eyes, puzzled and indignant. Phaltiel looked at me and began to laugh. I suppose I deserved it.
    But I was young and still raw from David’s betrayal, and I did not think it was funny then. I would have struck Phaltiel, but he did not let me. I was all stiff with anger, but he held me close and kissed me on the brow, and then on the tip of my nose, and then on my mouth.
    I stopped saying no, then.
    It was no proper wedding night; it was not even dark enough to light the lamps. The chamber was not prepared with fine linen, sweet herbs, and scented oils. The bride had not been bathed and perfumed, nor had the bridegroom.
    I had always thought those things important. But I was wrong.
    They did not matter.
     
     
    The next morning Jonathan left again. He had come only for love of me, to tell me of David’s marriage; he was needed with the army to keep King Saul content with prudence. Saul had forgotten, now, that he did not trust Jonathan. Or at least, so Jonathan told me. I
do not know if it was true. Perhaps it was, and all Saul’s hate was kept hot for David.
    I walked hand-in-hand with my brother to the first turn in the road, loath to part with him so soon. When we had to say good-bye, I said, “I have a message for David, brother, if ever you should meet with him.”
    “You know that I do.” Jonathan did not look happy; he was a good man, loyal and kind and loving. To be torn between Saul’s love and David’s was not easy. “What is your message, little sister?”
    “Tell David—” I had had the words well-prepared, bitter, clever words, I thought them; words that would eat into David’s heart like poison. But something in my brother’s face made me stop. I kissed him and said instead, “When you see David give him that from me, and say that Michal wishes him well. And tell him—tell him that my husband and I are happy.”
    And when I said it, the words were true.
    Jonathan smiled