Signs and Wonders (35 page)

“Speak,” said David.

“I will tell you a tale,” said Nathan. “There were two men, one rich, the other poor. The rich man owned great flocks and herds. The poor man had nothing except one little ewe lamb that he raised himself. He fed her by hand and made her a pet, and she played with his children. She ate out of his dish and drank out of his cup and slept at the foot of his bed. She was like a daughter to him. And it happened that the rich man passed the house of the poor man and saw the lamb playing in the garden. And, since he was entertaining a guest that night, he thought he would take this lamb instead of one from his own flock. He led the lamb away and killed it, and dressed and roasted it, and served it to his guest.”

David’s wrath was kindled by this tale. His anger choked him; he could hardly speak. Finally he said to Nathan: “As the Lord lives, the man who has done this thing shall die. He shall restore the value of the lamb many fold, and then he shall die because he has done this thing and has no pity. Who is this man?”

“Thou art the man,” said Nathan. “The Lord God of Israel has spoken to me, and He is greatly displeased with you. He anointed you king. He took you out of the hand of Saul. He gave you Saul’s house and Saul’s daughter to be your wife, and your choice of other wives. He gave you the throne of Israel and of Judah. And if you had thought all this too little, He would have given you other things. But you have despised His commandment and done evil in His sight. You have killed Uriah as surely as though you had cut him down with your own sword, and you have taken his wife to be your wife. Now, therefore, says the Lord, the sword shall never depart from your house, because you have despised His statutes and killed a man and stolen his wife. The Lord says that He will raise up evil against you out of your own house. And He will take your wives and give them to your neighbors, who will lie with them before your eyes.”

David answered Nathan, saying, “I have sinned against the Lord.”

“You have sinned indeed,” said Nathan. “But the Lord still loves you. You must pay for this sin, but you shall not die. But because you have done this thing, the child that is born to Bathsheba shall surely die.”

Nathan’s words filled David with terror. And when the child was born, it was very sickly. David pleaded to God for the child’s life. He fasted and went out of the castle into the courtyard and lay all night upon the earth. The elders of his house went to him to raise him up from the earth. He would not rise. Nor would he eat. He ate nothing and drank no water. They were afraid their king would die.

He continued to fast and sleep on the ground. On the seventh day the child died. David’s servants feared to tell him that the child was dead, thinking that since he had punished himself so sorely during the child’s illness, he would surely kill himself at the news of its death.

They went to him, and he said: “Is my child dead?”

They said: “He is dead.”

David arose from the earth and washed and anointed himself and changed his garments. He went into the house of the Lord and worshipped. Then he went to his own house and asked for food. He ate meat and drank wine.

An elder asked him, “How is it, O King, that you fasted for the child while he was alive, and now that he is dead you have regained your appetite?”

David said: “While the child was yet alive I fasted and wept. This was my way of asking God to spare the child. But why should I fast now that he is dead? Can I bring him back again? I shall go to him one day, but he can never return to me.”

And David comforted Bathsheba and made love to her. She conceived again and bore a son. They named this son Solomon.

But Nathan’s terrible words burned in David’s mind, and he kept brooding about how the prophecy would fulfill itself—how evil might come to him out of his own family. He considered many possibilities but never suspected that the evil would be done by his favorite son.

Absalom

David had many wives and they bore him many children. The child he loved best was his third son, Absalom, who was a young man by the time the last son, Solomon, was born. Throughout Israel this young prince, Absalom, was praised for his beauty. He was tall, much taller than his father; his eyes were gray, like David’s, and he had a mane of red-gold hair, which hung down below his waist. Once a year he cut it. The shorn locks, it is said, weighed more than ten pounds. Girls and women fought like wildcats for one shining curl. He was as brave as he was handsome, skilled with spear and bow. David set him high among the captains, and his troops loved him.

That the king favored Absalom was known to all; he was accepted as the heir to the throne. But he was impatient. He wanted to be king and he could not wait for his father to die. He set out to wean the people from their loyalty to David. He began to live with great ceremony, spending more money than the rest of his brothers combined. He kept chariots and horses and fifty men to run before him. And people began to accept that he was unlike anyone else.

Once a month people went to Jerusalem to be judged. The king sat upon his throne and heard all those who had quarrels or complaints and judged among them. From all over Israel they came thronging to Jerusalem, many more than David could hear. Those who could not be heard were told to go home and return the next month. Absalom saw a chance here. He would arise early on the morning of judgment day and stand at the city gates, greeting each man who came, asking his name and his dwelling place and the nature of his complaint. Then Absalom would pretend to look around, and call out, “Ho there! Is there a man of the king here? Is there a man to handle this business and take these good folk to the palace?” Then Absalom would turn back to the visitor and say, “You have come here on weighty business, but there is no one sent by the king to hear you. Oh, that I were judge in this land. Any man who had any suit or cause of complaint could come to me and I would do him justice. And swift justice. For justice delayed is no justice at all.”

When the petitioner thanked him, Absalom would say, “It is for us, the king’s sons, to thank you for your patience in this matter.” He would embrace the man. And the man embraced by this glorious prince would feel himself princely, and would return to his village praising Absalom, saying that he should be king. Thus did Absalom steal the hearts of the men of Israel.

David was told how his son paraded himself before the people. Hushai, an old friend of David’s and his chief advisor, cautioned him. But David brushed off the warning, saying, “Absalom, my son, is princely and beautiful. People love him wherever he goes. Shall I blame him for this? It is rather a cause for rejoicing.”

“He is more than princely,” said Hushai. “He means to be kingly. And he will not wait to inherit. Unless you wake up and bestir yourself, O King, he will snatch the crown off your head.”

But another of David’s counselors, a man named Ahithophel, a subtle and deceitful man who had secretly cast his lot with Absalom, said: “No one is wiser than my brother Hushai. But in this matter, O King, his love for you, I fear, colors his judgment. Absalom is generous, impulsive, warm-hearted. But he worships you next to God and would never lift a hand against you.”

David believed what he wished to believe. He welcomed the words of Ahithophel and coldly dismissed Hushai.

For three years Absalom wove his web of conspiracy. In the fourth year he judged that events had ripened. He went to David and said: “God has been good to me, O my father, and I wish to thank Him. I wish to go into Hebron, and sacrifice at the tomb of Abraham and Sarah.”

David was pleased at Absalom’s piety. “Go in peace, my son,” he said.

That night Absalom called together two hundred of his most faithful followers in Jerusalem. They all left their houses and went out of the city. Absalom chose eleven of these men, and sent one to each of the tribes of Israel. “Await my summons,” he told them. “When you hear a man coming on a horse, blowing a trumpet, then proclaim to the tribe you dwell among that Absalom reigns in Hebron. Then gather men of valor from each tribe and come to me here, and we shall march on Jerusalem.”

Absalom dwelt in Hebron. Men flocked to his standard. Among them went Ahithophel, David’s counselor. But there were those loyal to David in Hebron. They hastened to Jerusalem and told David. “Rise, O King, for the hearts of the men of Israel are with Absalom.”

Then David knew that Hushai had spoken the truth and that Absalom had been conspiring against him all this time. He was sickened by the thought of his beloved son doing this, and he could not rise to the peril with his old fighting spirit. He could not bear the thought of fighting his son. He called his counselors together and said: “We must flee. We must leave Jerusalem, for Absalom is coming. He comes with an army and will take the city and put us all to the sword.”

That night David departed with all his court. He left his city of Jerusalem, which he had taken from the Jebusites, the city that he had so joyfully entered, bearing the ark of the covenant, dancing before it and singing his glad song. As he rode through the gates out of the city, he felt all his triumphs turning to ashes. All his memories were repealed, and his pride withered.

Six hundred men went out of Jerusalem with him, and his wives and his children. Of those who dwelt in the palace he left only ten concubines. He rode northward into the wilderness of Judah, into those hills where he once had hidden while Saul pursued him. The cold, piney wind off those mountains reminded him of the days of his youth, when he himself had been a rebel against the king, hunted by Saul’s entire army. He sat up in the saddle and drew a deep breath. He felt his heart reviving. He said: “The Lord gives, and the Lord takes away. Blessed be the name of the Lord forever.”

He led his men out of Judah, across the river Jordan into the land of Gilead. This was a place of hills, also, a stark country. But there was a valley there, where a kind of pine tree grew; and the sap of this tree, when boiled in a certain way, made the most soothing balm for wounds and bruises. David thought of this and said to himself: “Perchance for me, also, in these hard straits there is a hidden sweetness.” His spirit flamed up in him again, and he became the war leader who had smitten the Philistine and the Moabite and the Ammonite and all the enemies of Israel, and made his name great among nations.

Entering Gilead, he kindled the hearts of the men there, and they arose and followed him. They were tall, strong hillmen, good with the spear, deadly with the bow. They came to swell his ranks. Now David led an army, and the army had to eat. The matter became known. The women of Gilead came. They brought bread in earthen vessels. They brought wheat and barley, parched corn, beans, and lentils—also, honey, butter, sheep, and cheese. There was enough food for the army. The men rested themselves and were refreshed and ready for battle.

David went into a walled city in Gilead, and made that his stronghold. “But we do not shelter here,” he said to Joab. “We attack. We will divide our men into three parts, a larger force and two smaller ones. You shall command the larger force, and we will appoint two subcaptains for the other two. We will draw Absalom into the valley, and then attack from the hills. I will go out with you myself and ride with you into battle, as in days gone by.”

But the people heard this and sent a spokesman to David, who pleaded with him: “Do not go forth, O King. You are our father, our shepherd. If you are killed, we shall be like lost sheep, and be slaughtered like sheep. Stay here. You are worth ten thousand men. Do not risk your life.”

“I will do what seems best to you,” said David. Then he said to Joab: “I wait here, for the people wish it. And I trust you utterly, my brave one. I know we shall prevail. God sent me a dream last night, and I saw the enemy fleeing before you. But I pray you, Joab, deal gently with my son. Scatter his forces, destroy his army, but do not slay Absalom.”

Joab drew his sword and saluted the king. Thousands of swords flashed in the air. Thousands of voices merged into one voice and rolled across the hills like thunder: “David! David! David, our king!”

Absalom led his troops across the river into Gilead, and they were a mighty horde. He rode a tall white horse and wore a breastplate of brass. He carried his helmet on his pommel and his red-gold mane streamed out behind him. That shining head was like a banner, and men followed it heedlessly, certain of triumph. So sure of victory were they behind their radiant young prince that the captains sent out no scouts, no outriders.

But David’s work was not yet done, nor did the Lord intend that Absalom should be king. The prince led his men into a valley. A rain of arrows fell upon them. Huge boulders fell upon them, crushing man and horse. They heard a keening like eagles—David’s war cry that was a cry in the throats of all his captains. One troop charged downhill at them on the right flank; another troop charged down the left-hand hill. Joab led his troops straight up the valley toward them. They were hemmed in, trapped. They were slaughtered like sheep in a pen.

Absalom’s tall, white horse was swift as a stag. He spurred it through a break in the ranks, angling across a slope and beyond the battling men. He rode behind a screen of rocks, and out the other side of the valley, into a copse of trees. He heard pursuers behind him and spurred the horse on, throwing off his breastplate to make himself lighter. He threw away his sword and his shield. He wore no helmet and his hair streamed out behind him. A great oak stood in his path; its branches grew low. He ducked down to the neck of his horse to pass under the branches. But the wind took his hair; it caught upon the branch and tangled there. His beautiful long hair, strong as a rope, swung him from the saddle, and he hung there. A spearman ran past the tree, looked up and saw Absalom, but did not stop. The spearman ran through the woods until he came to Joab.

“Captain!” he said. “I saw Absalom in the wood, hanging by his hair from a tree.”

“Did you kill him?” said Joab.

“No!” cried the spearman.

“You saw him hanging there and did not spear him where he hung? I would have paid you ten shekels of silver.”