Queenmaker Read Free

among Saul’s men.
    All should have been well, then. But it was not.
    Samuel watched all done as he had ordered in Yahweh’s name, and then walked away from Saul. We did not learn where he went until long after, and then it was too late.
    My father, bitter as tears, nursed his anger until it turned inward, and poisoned him.
    And in time, to heal him, came David.
     
     
    I was nearly ten, and growing tall, when I first heard his name.
    “King Saul has a harper to give him rest at night,” they said. “Jesse of Bethlehem’s son David—he makes music sweet and the king calm.”
    My father was seldom home now, spending all his time with
his army, and I had not seen him for many months. But I could not imagine his angers soothed by any harper, however sweet. I said as much to Jonathan, when he finally came home to visit us.
    “And so I said too, little sister, when his servants said that music would ease him when he was troubled. But then they brought David—and his music.” Jonathan smiled in a way that made my heart leap, although I could not tell why. I had no interest in harpers. My marriage-dreams were all of heroes mighty in battle, not of men who dealt in music and soft words. I did not know then that words and music are more deadly than any spear.
    Perhaps my face showed my thoughts, for Jonathan laughed. “Not all men can be warriors, Michal. No, do not toss your head at me—we have over-many who know nothing but how to hurl a spear and taunt an enemy. A king needs men with many different skills about him. And David—”
    “Has many skills?” I was not sure I liked the way Jonathan’s voice changed when he spoke of David. It did not alter so for me, or even for his wife, though he loved her as he should.
    But Jonathan was never one to be baited with sharp words. He only smiled again and reached to tug my braids. “He can sing words of honey and play music of gold, and speak with wisdom and tact. He can also tend sheep and never lose the smallest lamb.” Jonathan’s eyes were soft. “Someday, little sister, you may see for yourself.”
    Then I did toss my head at him, all the king’s daughter. “How should I see him? Will the king bring this shepherd’s son home from the war-tents to eat at his table?”
    “Oh, so high, Princess Michal!”
    I scowled and stamped my foot. I had some of our father’s temper, and all my own pride. “He will not,” I said. “You know he will not!”
    “He may yet,” said Jonathan, solemn as a new-anointed judge. “David sings songs our father delights to hear—and a king’s hall needs a harper, even as it needs a king’s haughty daughter!”
    Then I knew he teased, and I flung myself at him in mock
rage, to beat at him with gentle fists until he took back his words. But he would not, and called me prideful and vain, and chased me round the pillars of the outer court to tickle me until I begged him to stop.
    He did, and then would have told me more about David, but I would not hear. I had more important things to think of than a shepherd’s son—“Even if he has killed a lion and a bear, which I do not believe! Harper’s tales,” I said, and thought it keen wit.
    “Wait and see,” said Jonathan. “Wait and see.”
    And we spoke no more that day of David and his talents.
     
     
    But David did not remain only my father’s harper. He sang so well that he was given the post of the king’s armor-bearer. And, so said the gossip, that was not all he had won. For he had found high favor not only with the king, but with the king’s son. It was said Prince Jonathan loved David well—some said too well.
    Our other brothers were not best pleased, but there was nothing to be done; they even said that, to give him his due, the shepherd’s son had sought no advantage. King Saul had raised David up, and that was an end to it. No, the blame was all for King Saul’s moods, which grew inconstant as the moon.
    But not so inconstant that he failed to keep our enemies