Bathsheba Read Free

way through the courtyard and into the house. There my gaze took in the many bowls of fruit, jugs of wine, and stacks of linens that friends had arranged in gift baskets to celebrate our marriage. More than a few guests laughed or made good-natured jokes as they surveyed our elaborately decorated marriage bed, but I ignored them, not wanting to behave like an embarrassed virgin. Elisheba had told mewhat to expect when I was finally able to lie with my husband, so I was trying not to dread my first intimate encounter with a man.
    I was rendered speechless, however, when Uriah led me through a doorway at the back of the house. Outside, with only the blue sky for a ceiling, lay a second courtyard, a lush garden paved with stones and enclosed by slender cypress trees. A large mikvah , a trough for watering our animals, stood at the center of the exquisite space.
    “Nights will be beautiful here.” Uriah caught my hands as we stood face-to-face. “I look forward to lingering in this garden with you. The moon and the starry host will be witnesses to my devotion.”
    I blinked, startled by this decidedly unwarrior-like declaration. I would have risen on tiptoe to kiss him, but my father had begun to urge others to vacate the house and move into the front courtyard. “They are married, so let us leave them in peace,” he said, tossing Uriah a sly glance. “Let them consummate the marriage, and then we will celebrate!”
    Grumbling good-naturedly, the celebrants left us alone. They would wait outside, feasting and drinking, until we emerged, as wedded in flesh as we were in law.
    After watching them go, Uriah gripped my hand and led me into the house, but one man remained inside the front doorway—my tall, stern grandfather.
    “Uriah, I pray you will allow me one more moment with my granddaughter,” he said, moving toward me. “I would like to say a few words to her.”
    Uriah flexed his jaw, silently signaling his frustration, but Grandfather was not the kind of man who could be easily dissuaded. “Bathsheba”—he tugged at my sleeve—“I would give you my blessing.”
    I swallowed over the lump that had risen in my throat and allowed myself to be pulled from my husband’s side.
    “Listen well.” Grandfather’s dark gaze pinned me to the floor. “You must not heed anyone who would think less of you for marrying outside your tribe, for Uriah is a good and faithful man. He has pledged his allegiance to David and to Adonai, and both your father and I trust him completely.”
    With difficulty I restrained my impatience. “I know.”
    “Now let me bless you.” Grandfather placed his broad palm on my head. “Blessed are you, Adonai, our God, King of the Universe, who created joy and gladness, groom and bride, mirth, glad song, pleasure, delight, love, brotherhood, peace, and companionship. Adonai, our God, let sounds of joy and gladness echo in the streets of Jerusalem, the voice of the groom and the voice of the bride. Blessed are you, our God, who causes the groom to rejoice with his bride, and blessed are you, Bathsheba. May Adonai make you like Rachel and like Leah, who between them built up the house of Israel. May the fruit of your womb change the course of history and bring blessings to Israel.”
    Content to have executed this grandiose and ceremonial gesture, Grandfather pressed a kiss to my forehead, then left the house and closed the door behind him.

    Outside the house, revelers shouted and clapped while pipers played and tambourines jangled. But those sounds faded to a dull roar as Uriah strode toward me, desire flushing his complexion. His steady gaze bore into me in silent expectation, and I took a step back, unnerved by the way my heart fluttered. I thought I knew what to expect in our coupling, but all my preconceptions vanished as the man for whom I had waited removed my veils with one hand. As I struggled to catch my breath, he caught my head and pressed his lips to mine in a kiss that sent the pit