The Gaze of a King

Chapter Thirty-Two | Tragedy Strikes

Two months later...

These past two months I have seen little of King David, not that I have sought him out. He has spent his days planning for the erection of the temple which will hold the ark of the covenant within. In addition to this vision, he has been busy building a library and securing instructors of the arts to teach within its walls. When he was not occupied with these projects, he was busy receiving audience from his subjects- something he had long neglected before.

The streets began to hum with songs of adoration for the Shepherd boy who slayed Goliath and became their God anointed King. I had not heard these praises since the war began. The weeks slipped by me like sand slips through one's fingers. I spent my hours roaming the palace gardens, reading poetry, and visiting Abigail. Each day I regained more strength than the day before lent. Every once in a while, Machir came to call upon me, but he was detained by his duties to the King, who had appointed him as a supervisor over the library construction.

I took another turn in the garden, rounding a blossoming thorn bush. Its branches reached towards me, thorns snatching at my cloak. I made a mental note to remind the gardener to trim its hedges. All hands were busy helping with the new buildings. No one in the palace was spared. An ear curdling shriek rang out through the halls surrounding me. I searched for the source frantically. I heard the echo of feet pounding furiously, the clanging of metal swords being drawn. I grabbed a fistful of my skirt and retreated from the garden. With intent artlessness I cautiously made my way back to my chambers.

"Keep your eyes sharp," I instructed my guards, before passing through my doors. Worry gnawed on my heart and mind. I tried to make sense of what I heard while in the garden. I had not seen a thing to lend me answers to my suspicions. Was there an intruder in the palace? Had our enemies breached out city defenses and ambushed us here? I paced as my mind raced with the possibilities.

I let out a startled gasp when my doors were unceremoniously flung open. King David tumbled in, disheveled in appearance, face wet with tears. He collapsed onto his knees. I snapped my fingers at the two guards, signaling them to grant the King privacy. They wordlessly obeyed and closed the double doors.

"My Lord?"

I ran to him, kneeling down by his side.

"Are you injured? Are we being attacked?"

He reached for my hand, which rested on his shoulder.

"No," He muttered. His lips began to tremble. I had not seen him so distressed since our son's passing.

"Pray, tell me what is troubling you. I heard a disturbance when I was strolling in the garden this morning," I admitted.

"My daughter," He choked out through broken sobs, "My daughter was raped."

My eyes widened in horror. "Tamar?"

He nodded his head, further sinking into the floor. So that was the shriek I had heard. It belonged to her. My heart broke for her. Who could have done such a thing to the King's virtuous daughter? I held him tenderly in my arms, letting him voice his sorrows into my lap.

"I must be strong for her..." He admitted with a hoarse voice. "I knew I could find solace here. I do not have to pretend with you. With everyone else I most present a fierce presence. You have truly seen me at my worst, Bathsheba."

I nodded my head, agreeing with his confession. Words would be useless to him right now. The act of being seen and heard in his authentic state of despair and shame was a gift only I could give to him. For the first time since I came to the palace that fateful night a year ago- I genuinely pitied him. My heart felt a twinge of sympathy for the broken man unraveling in my arms.

"God has punished me for what I have inflicted upon you, Bathsheba. I have fasted and prayed to God. I have orchestrated the building of his holy temple. I built a library to store stories of his glorious works and the history of His chosen people. I offered justice and an ear to the lowliest in my kingdom. None of it was enough for him to forgive me of my sins. My own daughter has been defiled by her own brother- because I defiled you. It is all my fault."

He shoved my hands away, putting a cease to my comforting touch. "I'm not worthy of your touch," He mustered, voice low and raspy. He stumbled to his feet. I craned my neck upwards to observe him.

"You told me once that the David you once knew would be ashamed of the David I have become..." He whispered softly down at me. "I am, Bathsheba. I truly am."

With a swift hand he swiped at the tears on his face, then straightened his disheveled robes, effectively putting on the facade of a stoic King who doles out wisdom and justice, unfazed by life's troubles. I was the only one who saw the man beneath that.