Free Michal by Jill Eileen Smith Page A

game.
    Michal exited from the room the way she’d come. When she stepped from the antechamber into the hall, she rushed toward the roof, hoping for some sign of the returning army.
    Suddenly Merab moved into her path, arms crossed and eyes flashing. “What are you doing, Michal?”

    “Tell me, Uncle, why did you turn down the king’s offer to become his son-in-law?” Joab sat on a large rock before the campfire, sharpening his dagger with a stone. Despite his stocky build, he could keep up with the better soldiers in the fiercest battle. What he lacked in stature, he made up for in cunning.
    “I didn’t refuse his offer.” David plucked and tuned the strings on his lyre. He trusted Joab—to a point—but a wrong response on his part could bring him into greater disfavor with the king. “I was simply taken aback by the way she was presented to me. I had nothing to offer as a dowry and didn’t know what to say.”
    “Killing Goliath was dowry enough.” Joab held the blade toward the fire, turning it over in his hand. Apparently satisfied that it was sharp enough, he tucked it into the leather pouch at his side. “He defrauded you, David. You should have agreed to marry the girl right then and there.”
    David plucked a string, tightened it more, then plucked it again. “Well, I didn’t, now did I?” He would marry when he was good and ready, when he had earned the right and paid the bride price.

    “What do you mean, what am I doing? I’m going to the roof.” Michal’s pulse sounded in her ears. Had Merab somehow heard her conversation with her father?
    Merab’s dark eyes narrowed. “If you think watching the road is going to bring him back any sooner, think again, Michal. David is at war, and the last thing he is thinking about is you!”
    “And who said anything about David?” Though his name made her heart beat faster, Michal’s breathing slowed to a more normal rhythm. Merab didn’t seem to know anything. “I like feeling the evening breeze as it moves across the fields. It’s cooler on the roof than in these confined walls.”
    Merab tilted her chin, looking down her nose at Michal. “See that it’s all you do.” She walked off in a huff, her anger obviously still smoldering.
    Michal shook her uneasiness aside. Something had put Merab in a foul mood, but that was not her concern. She raced to the roof, to her quiet sanctuary, to think about David instead of her sister.

8
    Saul’s fortresslike palace came into David’s line of sight, and his men quickly dispersed toward the barracks or their homes, leaving him blissfully alone.
    He glanced toward the roof. Would Michal be there? A glimpse of Saul’s youngest had caught his attention the day he left for war three months before. Had she been standing there on account of him?
    He didn’t see her today. But maybe that was a good thing. He couldn’t think about Michal when he had so recently refused Merab. Like Laban of old, Saul wouldn’t allow the younger daughter to marry before the older one. And he was less likely to offer David the chance to become his son-in-law a second time, so to dwell on Michal was useless. Still, David couldn’t deny the rapid twittering of his heart or the quiver in his stomach at every thought of her. A feeling he fought to suppress.
    The horse trotted beneath him, drawing nearer to the palace fortress. No welcoming crowd greeted him on this return, only the standing guards who nodded as he passed through the gate. His weary limbs begged to do nothing more than rest, and perhaps fill his belly with a hot meal. But on closer inspection, David realized the palace was whitewashed and draped with palm fronds. Torches stood on poles that were set in large clay pots filled with sand, and vases of flowers were everywhere.
    Was a wedding planned? Three months ago no one in Saul’s household was yet betrothed. So who would marry so soon?
    He drew up beside the barracks and reined in his mount, an uneasy feeling