God Knows

  'Six,' I could not help interjecting.

  'Exactly.' Saul gave a single nod of his head. 'Samuel isn't perfect, you see. And I think he was at least as much to blame as I was. Can one reason with God? I was expected to win, wasn't I? Well, I did win, without Samuel, and maybe even without God. And then after the big victory, there was all that trouble with my son Jonathan. I hope you never have from your children the troubles I get from mine. I guess you know what Jonathan did to me there.'

  'Did to you?' I exclaimed, gawking.

  'You've never heard?'

  'Tasting the honey?'

  'After I put a ban upon eating until evening? And a curse before God on any man who violated it?'

  'You think God expected you to kill your son for tasting a bit of honey?'

  'You think he didn't? When I built an altar unto the Lord that day and asked counsel whether to go down after the Philistines, I got no answer at all. That's how I first knew somebody had done something wrong.'

  'Did Jonathan know of your ban?'

  'Sure he knew,' Saul answered promptly, lying. 'It was no secret. What was I to do when I found him out?'

  'Ask God?' I guessed.

  'Ask God,' he repeated, and looked at me pityingly. 'What good is God? God wouldn't tell me. God hasn't answered me since.'

  'You blame Jonathan for that?'

  'I haven't killed him, have I?'

  And then Samuel came no more to see him after repudiating Saul's actions following his triumph over the Amelekites. Taking King Agag for ransom and the best of the cattle for booty, instead of putting all to the sword as instructed, was only the second or third of Saul's lapses, and his only act of noncompliance; yet it was enough for Samuel to depart from him forever, taking God with him.

  'He told me it was the last straw,' Saul continued moodily. 'He hewed Agag to pieces and went to his home in Ramah. He told me the Lord had rent the kingdom from me.'

  'For just one act of disobedience?' I wondered aloud in sympathy.

  'Not even Adam was given a second chance.'

  'Adam talked with God directly. You have only Samuel's word.'

  'Samuel told me to be king.'

  'That part I would believe.'

  Saul cogitated a minute in silence and then turned his face to look at mine. 'Is there word from the Lord, David?'

  'I don't know what you mean.' My manner was wary, his was crafty.

  'Has God ever spoken to you?'

  'If He has, I didn't notice.' At that time, my answer was true.

  'What happens when you sacrifice?' asked Saul.

  'I don't sacrifice.'

  'Do you know what happens when I sacrifice? Nothing. The meat doesn't burn, the fat hardly melts.'

  'Maybe you need a hotter fire,' I suggested, 'or better meat.'

  He paid no attention to my guesses. 'I get no omens, I get no advice. God just doesn't answer me anymore.'

  'Maybe God is dead.'

  'How can God be dead?'

  'God can't be dead?'

  'If God was dead, could I feel this bad?'

  'Go to Samuel,' I urged. 'Go to the priests.'

  'I don't trust the priests, they side with Samuel.'

  And Samuel had rejected him in the presence of the elders. Samuel came no more to see Saul, as it turned out, until the night before Saul's death. And then it was Samuel's spirit, summoned by the witch of Endor.

  'I think he wanted me to be king,' Saul theorized, 'but he wanted to be the one who ruled. When he left that day, he told me that the Lord had already given the kingdom to a neighbor of mine that was better than me.' Saul glanced at me intently again, his brow beetling. 'David, were you the neighbor he meant?'

  My answer was fearful. 'I have no way of knowing, my lord. I was not there--'

  'David, David,' Saul interrupted impatiently, 'I am drained of choler. I have no anger left. I love you as I do my own sons. Did Samuel make you a king?'

  'Only God can make a king,' I replied.

  'If God is dead?'

  Now he had me. 'There's only Samuel.'

  'We know he traveled to Bethlehem,' said Saul. 'He came with a red heifer on a rope that he said was to sacrifice. We know he stopped in your father's house and went no farther, and we know they sent to fetch you where you were keeping the sheep. He went back with the heifer. David, David, did Samuel make you king?'

  There was no room left to temporize. 'He put oil on my face,' I replied, 'and told me the Lord had provided for me to be king. But in Bethlehem things like that are always happening. Some people say it has something to do with the drinking water.'

  'Have you been intriguing with him?' said Saul. 'What has he told you since?'

  'Oh, no, my Lord, I have not seen or heard from him since,' I avowed honestly. 'He did not tell me when or how it would come about that I would be king. I have done no plotting. I have sought only to serve thee since the day of my killing of Goliath.'

  'Goliath?' Saul looked at me inquisitively.

  'The Philistine giant,' I reminded him. It was beginning to irk me that nobody but me seemed to be talking anymore about my killing the terrifying warrior that day with just my sling.

  'What Philistine giant?' asked Saul.

  'The one that I slew with my sling that day in the valley of Elah. You took me into your service then, and I have put my life in thy hand to slay the Philistine and preserve thee ever since. Don't you remember?'

  'For my own life I care not,' Saul said without answering me. 'After all, David, we owe God a death, and he who dies this year is quit for the next. But for you to follow me as king would require that Jonathan and my other sons go down to the grave with me too. My line and my name would be cut off among my brethren.'

  'My lord, I pray thee, let there be no strife ever between thee and me,' I implored him. 'Do you believe I could ever wish evil to thy son Jonathan, whose soul is knit with my soul, and who goes about saying that he loves me as his own soul?'

  'Yes, I've heard him.' Saul studied me, squinting a bit, and demanded, 'What does he mean by that?'

  'That we're good friends,' I hastened to say.

  'Just that?'

  'Only that.'

  'Then why doesn't he put it that way?' Saul mumbled.

  'He tends to be poetic sometimes, my lord,' I explained.

  'So do you,' Saul said. 'I hate poetry. But I like your music.'

  'I like to sing for you,' I confessed with feeling. 'And I swear I will never lift a weapon against you or any of your house. And that I will serve Jonathan after you.' I meant it too.

  Saul sighed. 'Let there be peace then forever between thee and me,' he offered. It was then that he embraced me, clasping me warmly to his great chest with a tender and suffusing affection. 'You have my sacred word, I will never doubt thee again or seek to do thee harm. David, will you come play for me again soon, perhaps the next time I'm feeling blue?'

  'But give me the chance!' I promised gladly. 'I long for nothing more.'

  I could not have guessed that he would oblige me so quickly.

  The very next day it was that the evil spirit from the Lord was upon Saul again as he sat in his house, and I was sent for still one more time to soothe and lighten with song and harp his grievously troubled heart. I came with an armful of music, intending to entertain him--for hours, if necessary--first with my 'Ave Maria' and Moonlight Sonata and next with the premiere of my Goldberg Variations, a work I had recently composed for a neighbor of mine in Gibeah with insomnia on the gamble that the charming air on which the whole is based would lull him toward sleep more easily. This time Saul was awaiting me eagerly, cross-legged on a bench with a javelin already in his lap. That should, I suppose, have alerted me. I was too enthusiastic to care. He looked just awful again, I was glad to see. The worse his condition, the greater is need for me and the richer the opportunity to ingratiate myself with him and to convince him still further of my patriotic devotion. I was glad I had worn my burgundy tunic and taken the trouble to groom my
self. I had oiled my arms and face and pomaded my curls. With the second joints of my fingers I had rubbed my cheeks with vigor to enrich their natural color. I should have stood in bed.

  All of my preparations were wasted. No sooner did I lift my head to pose like an angel and part my lips for my first dulcet note than he rose from his bench and let fly at me with the javelin, seeking again to smite me even to the wall with it. Holy shit, I thought with terror. Again I was stupefied. Again he missed me by inches, the weapon embedding itself in the wood behind me with a loud report. This time, though, I made up my mind at once. Fuck him, I decided, and leaped to my feet. Enough is enough! Music he wants? Balls he'll get! I ducked my head and bounded away.

  7 Flight into Gath

  At Nob I told some lies and eighty-five priests were slain. Not only that, but all of the men, women, and children in their households, and all of the livestock in that sacred city, were put to death as well. Who is to blame? Saul, Doeg the Edomite, or old Ahimelech, the gullible reigning priest I hoodwinked into supplying me? Saul, who originated the orders for the massacre, was already infamous as a rampaging, bloodthirsty lunatic. Doeg the Edomite, chiefest herdsman of Saul, did the butchering, after every one of the servants of the king, even Abner, refused to put forth his hand to fall upon the priests of the Lord. Ahimelech, officiating that day at the horns of the altar, was methodical and credulous in the performance of his functions and had no obligation to suppose he was being cozened into providing succor to a fugitive from the king's wrath. Doeg the Edomite was most to blame, by my way of thinking; he was doing his duty in the hope of advancement, and he that maketh haste to be rich cannot be innocent. Haven't I found out that much by now from a lifetime of observing others?

  Me? Where do I come in for any of the guilt? How can anyone reasonable assert that the responsibility should be mine? I was running for my life and had never, not once, done anything wrong. And even Ahimelech's son Abiathar, sole survivor from Nob after Saul smote with the edge of the sword both men and women, children and sucklings, and oxen, and asses, and sheep, even Abiathar laid none of the fault at my door and fled after me for protection when I had gathered some men about me and come farther up into Judah from the quarters I had established in the cave of Adullam. Inadvertently, I had occasioned the death of all the persons in his father's house; yet Abiathar sought refuge with me. He brought news of the slaughter with him. I took him in and vowed to safeguard him. And Abiathar has abided with me as priest ever since, even though Bathsheba pretends not to remember who he is each time the matter of his support for Adonijah comes up, or derogates him as one who has lost his wits and is not to be taken seriously.

  'You should help a father in his age,' I tried moralizing with Bathsheba one time. 'If his understanding fail, have patience with him.'

  'You've got one foot in the grave,' was her unmoved retort. 'It's all I can do to keep patience with you.'

  Of Ahimelech that day, all I asked was a sword and some victuals. I wanted bread and saw five newly baked loaves.

  He was rightfully afraid at seeing me in Nob. 'Why art thou alone?' he wished to know.

  I falsely replied that the king had commanded me out on a business with orders to let no man know where or why I was going, and that I was to rendezvous in stealth with the others assigned to my party at such and such a place already appointed; we wanted no questions raised about my coming and my going. This conversation with Ahimelech was conducted in the open, and I grew greatly concerned for myself when I recognized Doeg the Edomite skulking about in the small crowd attracted by my arrival. I knew he would acquaint Saul with the direction I had traveled when he arrived back in Gibeah and learned I was sought for execution, but I did not envision the awful consequences his report would produce. Nor can I convince myself that I would have acted any differently if I had given thought to what could result, or even that I should have. I was a young man in panic. I had committed no sin. I was above reproach and felt I had as much right to live as everyone else.

  In earshot of all, I requested of Ahimelech the sword or the spear I said I needed to conduct my action, stating that the king's business required haste and that Saul had commissioned me to requisition a weapon from him. I also asked for the five loaves of bread I counted under his hand, still steaming and aromatic from the fire in the altar, and as many more loaves as he could spare. Even before I finished, he was shaking his head.

  There is no bread here to give you,' he told me apologetically, 'but the shewbread.'

  'What's shewbread?' I asked.

  This is no common bread under my hand,' Ahimelech the priest explained, 'but there is hallowed bread I can give thee, if the young men with thee have kept themselves from women for at least these three days past and are not unclean.'

  'For more than three days,' I assured him with celerity, anxious to be gone before the curiosity of Doeg the Edomite was fanned into expressing some kind of doubt. 'We are as clean as can be.'

  Only in this last statement was there anything like truth, for I had not lain with another woman since parting from Michal at my window three weeks earlier, nor had I lain with her more than once in the weeks preceding that. Our farewells had been rushed, leaving little time for horseplay. Bounding from Saul's room after his newest effort to smite me, I had bolted first into Abner, who listened without arching an eyebrow to what for me was an account of a most extraordinary and hair-raising event. Abner bit into a pomegranate he was eating and continued grinding away noisily on the seeds as I spoke.

  'I myself would not make too much of it,' he decided a few seconds after I had finished. 'Accidents will happen.'

  'Accidents?' Could I believe my ears?

  'Is it not an accident that your anointed king wishes to kill you every now and then?' Abner argued in his friendly and sophistic way. 'Or do you feel he has good cause?'

  'He has no cause,' I declared emphatically.

  'And he still hasn't hurt you, has he? Be reasonable, David,' Abner added, as though urging me to grow up. 'Life is to be lived. If it makes him feel better to throw a javelin at you, let him throw the javelin. Saul is our king. He seems to perk up afterward. He lets off steam.'

  'You call that fair?'

  'Is the moon made of cheese?'

  Had I taste for such drollery at a time like that?

  It was good Joab murdered Abner for me, although I did not think so at the time and had to simulate much public grief at his burial. It was good in the long run that he killed Absalom for me too, I guess, although I will never get over my love for that handsome second son of mine. He murdered my other nephew, Amasa, too, the son of my second sister, after we had put down Absalom's rebellion, but Amasa hardly mattered, except to remind me again that Joab could be ruthless and disobedient in his jealousy of sharing power. I prepared Benaiah for Joab's potential for enmity when I placed him rather than Joab in charge of the palace guard of Cherethite and Pelethite mercenaries I had created for my personal safety, to be responsible only to me. What a blow that was to Joab. He was an idiot to suppose I would have put myself entirely at his mercy.

  Michal saved me that day Saul tried to smite me in his room. From Abner I headed home as fast as my legs would carry me and was a bundle of nerves by nightfall when Michal arrived. Like an animal encaged, I paced without letup from one section of our house to the other, vacillating between spasms of furious outrage and spells of tearful self-pity. I wanted to howl and I wanted to whimper. Part of the turmoil I suffered sprang from my need to find some way of protesting to Michal about her father without provoking from her another angry outburst against me. My misgivings were unnecessary, for she was in a very bad state herself when she finally came bursting in.

  'You'll never believe it!' we shouted at each other at exactly the same moment, and for the next half minute or so communicated with each other in a flurry of alarms.

  'It's terrible, terrible!' I cried indignantly. 'I'm not going to stand for it. You're not going to believe me.'

>   'It's awful, awful,' she was telling me even as I was protesting to her. 'The news I've got for you is awful. I can't believe such awful news.'

  'He threw a javelin at me again.'

  'Murderers are coming.'

  'I knew you wouldn't believe me,' I accused.

  'Never mind what I believe,' she retorted. 'What I'm telling you is worse.'

  'You never believe me when it comes to your father. He threw a javelin. What could be worse?'

  'Murderers outside, that could be worse,' answered Michal.

  'Murderers? What are you talking about?'

  'They're on the way.'

  'Yeah-yeah.'

  'You don't believe me? Assassins, David,' she emphasized in my face. 'Don't you understand? They're coming to kill you. Oy, they're already here, in the street outside, to watch the house through the night and slay you when you leave in the morning.'

  'I know you're joking.'

  'Go look.'

  'Holy shit!'

  Furtive hooded men with cloaks and daggers were already positioning themselves in doorways and alleys in the street in front of my house and at both ends, shutting off flight and closing me in. Their dark robes were of solid colors and the blades and handles of their swords and daggers could be seen jutting from beneath. Some were waiting with their hands already on the hilt.

  Michal was breathing deeply. 'What can we do?'

  'I think I know exactly what to do,' I replied with authority. 'They would not dare detain or harm you, the daughter of the king. You go out now, go to the house of your father the king as quickly as you can, and report to your father the thing that is happening here.'

  'David, guess who sent them.'

  I was now able to discern, in shadowy profile in a recess between two houses, the vulpine silhouette of Abner and one of his pomegranates. Abner always did have a very big nose. Prompted by Michal, I was able to put two and two together and see that she was right.