own heart.” But the Court Historian knows other tales that are told only in hushed tones and behind closed doors—David's fugitive years as a bandit and an outlaw, his stint as a mercenary in service to the enemies of Israel, his habit of seducing other men's wives.
Some of David's exploits seem so scandalous as to defy belief. Could it really be true that David once served as a mercenary under the detested Philistines and offered to go into battle against the rightful king of Israel? Did he really kill men, women, and children in order to eliminate the eyewitnesses to his crimes against the people of Israel? And what about the beautiful woman who was his principal wife and the mother of the crown prince—did he really conspire to murder her husband after he had lured her into his bed and then impregnated her with a bastard child?
The king whom the Court Historian served was, in fact, a bloodstained warrior who secured his crown through ruthless guerrilla warfare and cynical intrigue, a man of regal bearing but raw appetite, a man who did not hesitate to connive and even to kill in order to get what he wanted. And, remarkably, the Court Historian dared to set down in writing the whole truth as he knew it, leaving out no secret crime, no sin, and no scandal. Three thousand years later, the Bible brings us face-to-face with King David in all his complexity and contradiction.
Still, the formal biography of David in the Book of Samuel does not begin with David himself, and we will not encounter the man whom the Court Historian knew so well until much later in the biblical text. The story of David starts, appropriately enough, with a beguiling woman. Her name is Hannah, and she is only the first of many remarkable women who will figure crucially in his life.
A WOMAN OF SORROWFUL SPIRIT
Hannah, the Bible tells us, was heartbroken because she was childless—her affliction the same as the one visited emblematicallyupon the matriarchs Sarah and Rebekah and Rachel in the Book of Genesis. Hannah's husband tried to comfort her by declaring his love and suggesting that it ought to be enough: “Am I not better to thee than ten sons?” (1 Sam. 1:8) But Hannah was tormented by the sight of the children that his
other
wife had given him. So she made a pilgrimage to the temple of Yahweh and prayed for a son.
She prayed silently, moving her lips without uttering a sound, but with such fervor that the priest of the sanctuary decided that she was a common drunk.
“How long wilt thou be drunken?” the priest scolded Hannah. “Put away thy wine from thee.”
“No, my lord, I am a woman of sorrowful spirit,” she protested. “I have drunken neither wine nor strong drink, but have poured out my soul before the Lord.”
Touched by Hannah's earnest words, the priest sent her away with a kind wish. “Go in peace,” he said, “and the God of Israel grant thee thy petition.” (1 Sam. 1:14–17)
Hannah returned to her home, joined her husband in bed, and “the Lord remembered her”—that is, Hannah conceived at last and later gave birth to a baby boy. The pious woman had promised God to dedicate any son she might bear to a lifetime of service in the temple, and she kept her promise. She named the child Samuel, which is understood to mean “He-who-is-from-God,” 1 and as soon as he was weaned she delivered him to the high priest. 2
What Hannah did not know was that God had already singled out Samuel to play a unique role in the destiny of Israel. One night, as he slept in the sanctuary of Yahweh, the child heard his name called by a voice that he presumed to belong to the high priest. And Samuel responded with the same formulaic phrase that is repeated throughout the Bible when a human being is summoned to perform a task by God—first Abraham (Gen. 22:1), then Moses (Exod. 3:4), and now Samuel.
“Here am I!” said the boy.
“I called not,” the old priest told Samuel when he harkened to the call. “Lie down again.”