The beauty of Israel is slain upon thy high places: how are the mighty fallen!
Tell it not in Gath, publish it not in the streets of Askelon; lest the daughters of the Philistines rejoice, lest the daughters of the uncircumcised triumph.
Ye mountains of Gilboa, let there be no dew, neither let there be rain, upon you, nor fields of offerings: for there the shield of the mighty is vilely cast away, the shield of Saul, as though he had not been anointed with oil.
From the blood of the slain, from the fat of the mighty, the bow of Jonathan turned not back, and the sword of Saul returned not empty.
Saul and Jonathan were lovely and pleasant in their lives, and in their death they were not divided: they were swifter than eagles, they were stronger than lions.
Ye daughters of Israel, weep over Saul, who clothed you in scarlet, with other delights, who put ornaments of gold upon your apparel.
How are the mighty fallen in the midst of the battle! O Jonathan, thou wast slain in thine high places.
I am distressed for thee, my brother Jonathan: very pleasant hast thou been unto me: thy love to me was wonderful, passing the love of women.
You see? I do call him a brother, don't I?
How are the mighty fallen, and the weapons of war perished!
Now what's so bad about any of that, except for that sword of Saul's returning not empty? Where is there anything wrong? What else was I going to say about him? Only a very sordid nature could find in those lines of platonic praise of Jonathan even a hint of any allusion to that reprehensible love that dare not speak its name.
Once again, the creative act had a salutary effect upon me, for I was drained of grief when I finished and of all pity and fear. My beautiful and famous elegy was a catharsis. I must admit I soon grew more absorbed in the writing of it than in the fact of the deaths of Saul and his sons and the total victory of the Philistines. Poetry works like that. My term of mourning ending with the completion of my elegy, I took stock like an able realist, and discovered myself relieved in some ways that Saul was gone. I could now surge ahead to whatever fate the future held for me.
My course seemed clear and unobstructed. There were now no more male children left after Saul but the illegitimate Ishbaal--that Canaanite name alone should tell you how lightly Saul himself regarded this surviving by-blow of some casual roadside rutting in his distant past. I was Saul's son-in-law. Although I no longer had his daughter with me, she was still my wife. No one but a husband has the right to declare a marriage over with a bill of divorce. In addition, my army of six hundred was the only capable military force left for the land of the Hebrews.' Who could stop me? I borrowed the sacred ephod from Abiathar for another heart-to-heart discussion with God.
'Shall I go up into any of the cities of Judah?' I asked him. My pulse was quivering. He had not said no to me yet.
And the Lord, God bless Him, answered, 'Go up.'
So I said, 'Whither shall I go up?'
And He said, 'Unto Hebron.'
So I had His blessing. But just to make sure, I doublechecked with another high power.
'Shall I go up into Hebron to be king?' I inquired of the leaders of the Philistines.
And they replied unto me, 'By all means.'
They thought it was okay. The Philistines found it just dandy, the idea of the land of Judah as a buffer state between Israel and themselves, with someone like me at the head who would remain in liege to them. I did not disclose that I had bigger things in mind. Then came the messengers from the north with a report that stunned me: Ishbaal, surviving son of Saul, had changed his name to Ishbosheth.
'That bastard!' I exploded.
And Abner, who'd escaped from Gilboa alive, was siding with him and putting him forward as king. I could see I was in for a long civil war.
9 Seven Years I Suffered, Seven Years
It took more than seven years. For seven years I suffered, seven years and six long months. How long, O Lord, how long, I lamented as I saw the weeks grow into months and the months lengthen to years. I gnashed my teeth, I chewed my nails. There were mornings I felt like weeping. Imagine me doing things like that, me, David, the warrior king, the sweet psalmist of Israel.
How long, O Lord, how long I waited. Believe me, that spell of waiting was not an easy time. For seven years I daily wanted Abner dead, seven years and six upsetting months, while I skirmished sporadically with what in Israel still was quaintly known as the house of Saul. Remember, we had no word for family then, and we have none now. Abner made his headquarters far away in Mahanaim in Gilead with that useless figurehead Ishbosheth, born Ishbaal, that lily-livered, illegitimate son of Saul and some unknown Canaanite cooze, who likely was as homely as sin if the offshoot bore any resemblance. Except for busty Rizpah, Saul had the taste of a Philistine when it came to women.
Once I was installed in Hebron as king of Judah, Abner and Ishbosheth were constrained to base themselves someplace remote on the other side of the Jordan, for the Philistines enjoyed unchallenged control of the valley of Jezreel in the middle of Israel. And Mahanaim in Gilead was as good a location as any. Coincidentally, Mahanaim in Gilead was the same haven to which I myself was to retreat a generation afterward, when I fled Jerusalem from the insurgent forces of Absalom hurtling down upon me from the corners of the earth seeking my death. I did not know they were seeking my death until loyal spies brought word of the logical plan of Ahitophel--formerly the sagest of my advisers, consistently so uncanny in judgment that his intelligence was thought to be divine--to set out himself that same night with a fresh mobile force to kill me. I had not a ghost of a chance of surviving had his wisdom prevailed over the slyly flattering counsel of my secret agent, Hushai the Archite. Don't try telling me there is ever anything new under the sun. I was crowned in Hebron, you know, and I announced there first that I reigned in Judah-- Hebron, that same city in which my son Absalom chose to uncover his seditious uprising a generation later and sound the first blast of the trumpet to announce that he reigned there. What a blow to me that was. Take it from me, the thing that hath been is that which shall be, and that which is done is that which shall be done, and neither shall there be any remembrance of things past that shall not also be a remembrance with those that come after. That which is crooked cannot be made straight, although with that one I believe there are psychotherapists who might disagree.
Life, as Bathsheba said, does not stand still. I took more wives in Hebron while I conducted my struggle for Israel, and I started having children born unto me, almost all of them, fortunately, as with my ancestor Jacob, sons. For wives to begin with, I brought Abigail and Ahinoam when I came to Hebron. By Ahinoam of Jezreel, I had my firstborn Amnon, who grew up a good-looking youth but was indescribably spoiled and vain, so much the affected, self-indulgent scamp that he tricked me shamelessly into helping him set up my daughter, his half sister Tamar, for his nefarious rape. What a sucker he made of me. Why did he eject her afterward from his house with such outspoken revulsion and disapproval? Because she was no longer a virgin? Not even he could explain his abnormal conduct when I had my father-and-son talk with him later. I couldn't even get him to say he was sorry, this firstborn son of mine by Ahinoam of Jezreel. My dutiful, loving Abigail suffered miscarriages until she was finally delivered of Chileab, poor thing, who remained a mongoloid even after we changed his name to Daniel in Chronicles. Chileab went early to his long home, and for him the mourners did not spend much time going about the streets. I had Absalom and Tamar by my next wife, Maccah, the daughter of Talmai, king of Geshur. It was always my instinct to marry well, until I took Bathsheba as wife, and that was my most enriching marriage of all. I did that one for love. She was the penniless one and I was much better off; for a woman, if she maintaineth her husband, is full of anger, impudence, and much reproach, except for Abigail. Bathsheba only asked for everything, and still does. I took Haggith, by whom I had Adonijah; Abital, by whom I had Shepatiah; Eglah, by whom I had Ithream; and Bathsheba, by who
m I next had Solomon after our first baby was put to death by God so soon after birth that we had no time to name him. He lies in an unmarked grave. By me she was fertile, if not by Uriah and the countless others who preceded me into her. And after Bathsheba, I took unto me even more wives and concubines and there were yet still more sons born to me, and even some daughters after Tamar, but that's a different story.
My struggles with Abner were generally on a small and indecisive scale. Neither side had sufficient troops to occupy the territory of the other. United, I gauged, we likely would outnumber the Philistines, who maintained themselves politically in separate city states, but we were divided and at war with each other. It was Judah versus Israel, the south against the north, and it was evident to me that sooner or later there would have to be some kind of voluntary surrender and a negotiated peace.
We launched raids into Israel from Judah. At these my nephew Joab was ferociously professional. A tournament at the pool of Gibeon between twelve men of ours and twelve men of theirs erupted into a full-sized melee after every one of the combatants caught his fellow by the head and thrust his sword into the other's side, so that they all fell down dead together. Can you imagine that? I'm sorry I wasn't there to witness that one, or the general action that followed. There was a very sore battle that day, and Abner and the men of Israel were beaten soundly. Lithe Asahel, the youngest of my sister Zeruiah's three sons, was swept from his senses by this success and borne to his death by a delusion of grandeur, the preposterous fancy that he could take on Abner. As light of foot as a wild roe, he pursued after Abner to kill him, and in going he turned not to the right hand nor to the left from following him, nor obeyed the exhortations of Abner that he slacken and desist and chase after someone else. Abner had no choice but to defend himself against his youthful and imprudent assailant. To Joab, after Asahel had been slain, Abner called out sensibly from the top of a hill when the children of Benjamin had regrouped and gathered together after him in one troop: 'Turn thee aside. Shall the sword devour forever? Knowest thou not that it will be bitterness in the latter end? How long shall it be then, ere thou bid the people return from following their brethren?'
And Joab, hearing him out, sensibly decided to cease following him that day. He blew a trumpet, and all the people with him stood still and pursued after Israel no more, neither fought they anymore that day. And Joab returned from following Abner to take up his brother Asahel and bury him in the sepulchre of his father, which was in Bethlehem, going all night and coming284 back to Hebron at break of day. And there was then pause in battle again and a time for all of the principals to take stock of things.
The city of Hebron in Judah is not Versailles, you know, and being king in Hebron is not always a day at the beach. There's usually not much going on socially and little to do, even if you're a king. That's one of the reasons I took so many wives--they helped keep me occupied. And after Abigail, I found myself with a real capacity to enjoy women; she taught me that, too. Bathsheba completed my education. Bathsheba taught me all of the rest and gave me my diploma, and since then I've never been able to enjoy any of the rest of them as much, not even my beloved Abigail. How I miss the way Bathsheba was at the beginning, and the way I used to be with her when we were together. I was in love, and I hadn't been in love that way in all my life until I moved to Jerusalem from Hebron and found her, and had her more than once. I came too quickly the first time. I was just about ready to pop right there on my roof when I first saw her and commanded that she be brought to me. Boredom in Hebron was also a reason I persisted in contending against Abner and the knock-kneed weakling he kept propped up in opposition to me. Ambition, too, kept me going, and war was something else diverting to do that was also invigorating to the spirit. I persevered all the more arduously through the long years of conflict as I observed that my house of David was waxing stronger and stronger and the house of Saul was growing more and more weak.
I intensified the pressure howsoever I could. And at last came-the hoped-for breach between my two adversaries, a rift both critical and inevitable. It took place over pussy, of all things; over an ordinary piece of ass, with a good deal of hypersensitive male vanity mixed in. For a people lacking words for genitals, we've certainly had our fill of troubles because of them, haven't we? Ishbosheth was distressed by the mere notion of Abner's sleeping with the hearty woman Rizpah, concubine to Saul while the king was yet alive, and abused him verbally with the charge of having done so. On such piddling occurrences do the histories of great nations frequently revolve. For want of a nail, believe it or not, a shoe may be lost, for want of the shoe a mule may be lost, for want of the mule a battle may be lost, and for want of the battle, who knows? Ishbosheth spoke incautiously. He forgot he was only a cat's-paw and was seduced into rashness by the fantasy that he really was king. And Abner hit the ceiling when subjected to his degrading impertinence.
'Am I a dog's head,' he raged, 'that thou chargest me today with a fault concerning this woman? Who do you think you are? Have I delivered thee into the hand of David? Could I not, if I wished, translate the kingdom from the house of Saul and set up the throne of David over Israel and over Judah, from Dan even to Beersheba? Overnight? Even if I were guilty of the fault with which thou chargest me, canst thou talk to me that way? Doest thou think, O maggot, thou really are king?'
And Ishbosheth could not answer Abner another word, because he feared him.
By this time too, I'd bet, Abner had seen the handwriting on the wall, and I have a sneaking suspicion that more than injured pride was at the bottom of the overtures he began making to me in secret. He sent messengers suggesting a league. Ishbosheth too began putting out feelers. I did not need a crystal ball to tell me I was now in the driver's seat; I could see I was holding a strong hand, if I might mix up my metaphors, and I played my cards with implacable cunning. I insisted on the return of my wife Michal as a precondition of my dealing with either one of them. There it was, they could take it or leave it. My demand was non-negotiable.
'Thou shalt not see my face,' I sent word to Abner imperially, like the absolute monarch I eventually was to become, 'except thou first bring to me Saul's daughter Michal. Deliver me my wife, which I espoused to me for a hundred foreskins of the Philistines.' I had no doubt I would get my way.
'Wouldn't you rather have the foreskins?' was the cynical reply sent back by Abner. I occasionally missed Abner after Joab did him in.
I should have said yes.
They sent and took Michal from her other husband, even from Phalti the son of Laish, to return her to me. And Phalti walked along with Michal, weeping behind her all the way to Bahurim, until Abner drove him off, saying unto him, 'Go, return home.'
Phalti should have been laughing. I was the one who should have been crying, for she never gave me a moment's peace or pleasure from the day she stepped back over my threshold. We had not seen each other for more than ten years. Yet the first thing my embittered wife did when she returned to me was to remind me yet again that she was a princess. She disliked the exposure from her quarters--she was used to a better view ever since childhood in her home in Gibeah. She found Hebron gross, and she objected to the presence of all of my other wives and their babies in what she said was her palace. She wanted a baby of her own. It was my pleasure to deny her one. It did not take me long to appreciate that I would have been much better off with those Philistine foreskins.
'I don't want those other women in my palace,' she scolded sourly.
'It's not a palace,' I answered her right back, 'and it isn't yours.' My earlier feelings of intimidation and inferiority had dwindled away in the interval of our separation. Now I did not give a shit. 'It's just a couple of white mud-brick houses with leaking roofs that open into each other and could use a new paint job, inside and out.'
'I am a princess,' she answered with the customary and peculiar hauteur that was to survive till her death, 'and anywhere live is a palace. Just remember, I found you in the gutter.'
/> 'Again in the gutter?'
'I never should have married a commoner.'
'Are we back to that?'
'I was brought up in Gibeah,' she boasted, 'and you are only from Bethlehem in Judah. I am the daughter of a king.'
'And I am a king!' I thundered.
That never did sink in, no matter how loudly I roared. Do you wonder I was so happy when they told me she was dying? How long, O Lord, how long I had waited to be rid of her, and it took so many years. I did a jig when they brought the news that she was ill. They went through the usual--the bone-marrow and the biopsy. My dreams came true: the biopsy was positive, and we had no chemotherapy. 'My cup runneth over!' I cried in my joy. I sang like a lark. She was soon sinking fast. I kicked up my heels. She asked to see me. 'Let her wait,' I shot back. Only when she was right at death's door did I rush to her bedside, just to watch with a smile and shake my head to any dying requests. Her voice was faint.
'I guess I'm going.'
'Good,' I said.
'Do you want my blessing?'
'Don't be such a sap.'
'I'll bet you're glad.'
'You've never made me happier.'
'When I was sore with boils?'
'That was nice too.'
'You'll dance on my grave,' she predicted.
'With all my might.'
'After I'm gone, you'll be able to dance with all your might whenever you want to, won't you?'
'I won't even wait, I'll do it right now.' To prove it, I began dancing around her bed as hard as I could, winding up with an energetic buck-and-wing and a hey-nonny-nonny and a hotchacha.
'I have a last wish,' she said, when I ran out of wind. 'Promise you'll grant it.'
'Not a chance.'
'It isn't much.'
'You're out of your mind.'
'Even if you lie and don't do it, David. I can go to my grave in peace if only I hear you say that you will.'
'You must be kidding.'
'You won't say yes?'
'Positively no.'
I've only missed her in situations that I knew would inflame her had she lasted as long as I.