Bathsheba: Reluctant Beauty

SPRING, 996 BCThe first time I saw King David, I was sixteen and he wasbehaving like a man possessed. The procession carrying the holyArk of the Covenant was moving slowly down the street where welived, and the pageantry of the parade mesmerized me. Scores ofmusicians preceded the Ark—trumpeters, harpists, men who playedthe lyre, and singers with fine voices—and dozens of somber priestswalked alongside them, their faces a study in reverence and sobriety.then I caught the glimmer of sunlight on a cherubim’s goldenwing. I clutched my father’s arm and wondered if I should hide myface from such a sacred sight, but before I could ask, a rising cloudof dust caught my attention. Behind the two priests who guardedthe ark, between the Levites who were blowing shofars, I spottedan auburn-haired, bearded man who leapt and spun and whirledin reckless abandon. He wore the linen ephod and robe worn bythe priests of Israel, but as the day was warm and the sun hot, hestopped spinning long enough to shrug off the outer robe and tossit to one of the guards. then, clad only in the light linen shift, hecontinued to leap and twist, all the while grinning like a man whohad been caught up in a holy rapture.I glanced at my father, certain that I would see him frowning.In a moment he would call out a rebuke to the guards; he wouldcommand one of his friends to haul the madman away.Instead, my father smiled, and in his eyes I saw the same lookof fond indulgence with which he regarded me when I had donesomething foolish.

I tugged on his sleeve. “Father, who is that man?”Reluctantly, he tore his gaze away from the energetic dancer.“Did you say something, daughter?”“that man—who is he?”His smile broadened. “that, Bathsheba, is David, the king ofall Israel.”“Behaving most inappropriately,” my grandfather grumbled.“If you knew him better, you would not criticize him.” Fatherelbowed Grandfather and grinned. “that free spirit you see serves uswell in battle, for the man is fearless and Adonai is with him. there’sno other way to explain how he always manages to elude his enemies.”Grandfather did not respond, but pressed his lips together andcrossed his arms in stony disapproval.I stared at the leaping king. I had heard many stories about theyoungest son of Jesse, but I had never been so close to him. Tothink that those sweaty hands killed a Philistine giant, that tonguedevised praises to Adonai, that bushy head received the holy oil ofanointing from HaShem’s prophet, Samuel . . .I watched, fascinated, as women from both sides of the streetbroke blossoms from their shrubs and threw them at the dancingking’s feet. I did not know much about kings in those days, but evenI was shocked to see the irreverent interest the women displayed.“Is—is that quite proper?” I asked, feeling ill at ease. “Won’t theking be offended by their behavior?”

My father chuckled, then slipped his arm around my shouldersand guided me back into the house. “David is a man after God’sown heart,” he said simply. “He lights up every room he enters;he elicits love from nearly everyone he meets. Do not judge himharshly, Bathsheba, for one day you may meet him again. thenyou will love him, too.”I did not argue with my father, but something in me doubted Icould ever love such a man as that.****According to family history, when my parents presented meto Samuel at the time of my mother’s purification, the Ruach Ha-Kodesh touched the ordinarily coherent prophet in such a way thatthe torrent of words from his lips resembled nothing so much as astream of gibberish. though my parents strained to understand theprophet’s words, they caught only a few. My father recalled hearing“mother to a great man” and “affect the future of Isra’el.” Mymother, on the other hand, caught only two words: “tob woman,”a phrase that pleased her very much.

At only eighty days old, I retained no memory of my encounterwith the prophet, but in the years ahead I came to understandthat a river of foretellings and curses had carved out the events ofmy life, a torrent of words with the power to rip me from people Iloved and settle me on unexpected shores.Because the prophet Samuel declared that I would be motherto a great man, my father stressed my duty to marry well andprovide my husband with sons. Because my mother heard that Iwould be not merely yapeh, pleasant-looking, but tob, highly desirable,even in my childhood she urged me to keep my nails cleanand my hair smooth. Because I would be blessed with the gift ofbeauty, she often reminded me, any man Father chose would beblessed to marry me.

I was an obedient daughter who wished to please my parents andAdonai, so I wanted nothing more than to marry a good man andhave as many children as the Lord allowed. the most importantduty of any woman, my father intoned nearly every night, was toaccept a husband and bear sons and daughters. Once the childrenwere weaned, my husband would teach my sons a trade and I wouldteach my daughters how to be dutiful wives. Together my husbandand I would teach our children to reverence Adonai, King of theUniverse, and the king of Israel, whom God had anointed throughHis prophet Samuel.A constant theme echoed through every lesson my parents taught:I was special because I had been chosen to bear a son who wouldgreatly influence Israel.

HaShem had every right to exercise His sovereign will throughchoice. He had chosen Aaron and his descendants to be His holypriests. He had chosen the Levites to be His special servants. Hechose Saul to be our king; then, after Saul displeased the Lord,HaShem chose David, son of Jesse, to reign over us.When the spring of my eighteenth year arrived, on a day notlong after Passover, my father announced that I was about to commencethe journey Samuel had foretold. For the past year I hadbeen betrothed to Uriah, a soldier in the royal corps known as“the thirty.” the marriage document had been signed, the dowrypaid, my future home made ready. All that remained was for thebridegroom to appear at my father’s house and escort me to thehome we’d share for the rest of our lives together.When the agreed-upon day arrived, I was more than ready tomarry the broad-shouldered warrior who’d caught my eye during aharvest festival. I knew I was unusually blessed, because the bravewarrior had earned my father’s approval, as well.“Amaris!” About to panic, I turned to the corner, where my tenyear-old sister sat on a soft pillow and strummed her harp. “Do youremember where I put my veil?”

She scrunched her nose, then pointed to the basket beneath thewindow. “Elisheba had it. She embroidered it for you.”My alarm melted into appreciation as I pulled the rectangle ofblue fabric from the basket. Elisheba, the loyal servant who hadbeen Amaris’s wet nurse after our mother’s death, had embroideredtiny gold blossoms along the rectangle’s edge—a lovely touch andquite fitting for a wedding.I ran my fingertips over the tiny stitches. “It’s beautiful.”“I’m glad you like it.” Elisheba’s throaty voice caught me bysurprise. I turned to find her standing behind me, tears glisteningin her eyes. “Child, I cannot believe you are old enough to have afamily of your own.”

“More than old enough.” Smiling, I pressed a kiss to her cheek,then pulled back to look into her dark eyes. “How old were youwhen you married?”She sighed the way she always did when we asked about the lifeshe’d led before coming to us. “Fifteen.”“See? I feel positively ancient in comparison.”Elisheba shrugged. “I was ready to be married almost from themoment I was born. But you are special, child. Your father didnot want to rush. After all, he had a prophecy to keep in mind.”I resisted the youthful impulse to roll my eyes, for Samuel’soft-repeated foretelling seemed a world away from the excited flutteringsin my chest. “Why should an old prophecy worry him? IfSamuel was a true prophet of Adonai, nothing could nullify hiswords. Adonai is not a man that He could change His mind—”“Hush, I’m not going to argue with you today. Are your nailsclean?”I smiled at the familiar question. “they are.”“Your hair—did you rinse it with the scented water I mixedfor you?”

“I did.” I caught a handful of hair and brought it to my nose,inhaling the mingled aromas of flowers and herbs. “I did everythingyou told me.”She stood in front of me, her keen gaze traveling from my newsandals to my emerald-green tunic. She studied my face, her expressionstill sharp and assessing, and then our eyes connected andaffection softened her countenance. “A tob woman,” she whispered.“that you are, my dear. Uriah will be the envy of every man inJerusalem today.”I looked away as an unwelcome warmth crept up my cheeks. “Ithink I will be the envy of every woman. I have seen them watchingUriah when he walks with me. Even the grandmothers smile at him.”“Silly fools.” Elisheba tucked a stray strand of hair behind myear. “I wonder how you will like being a soldier’s wife. You willspend many days alone.”“But not for at least a year.” I smiled again, confident in myhappiness. “Uriah cannot go to war in our first year of marriage,and a year feels like forever. I have waited a year for this day, andI thought it would never come.”

“But it did, child. And when you are my age, you will look back atyour days as a girl and wonder how the time could pass so quickly.”“Bathsheba?” My father’s rough baritone stilled our conversation.Elisheba stepped aside so I could see him in the doorway—tall,oiled, and dressed in his best tunic and cloak. “Are you ready,daughter? I hear the sound of approaching revelers.”“Ready and eager, Father.” I pulled the embroidered scarf overmy hair, then dropped a sheer fabric square over my face. I wouldgo to my groom veiled like Leah and Rachel, but this groom wouldknow who waited beneath the sheer fabric.I turned to face him, and for a long moment my father stoodas though he were rooted to the floor. Without being told, I knewhe was remembering the past. He might have been reliving themoment he first glimpsed my mother as his bride, or perhaps hewas remembering the day Samuel placed his hand on my head anduttered a prophecy instead of a blessing.“Daughter . . .” Father’s voice clotted with emotion. “You aremore beautiful than ever.”

I whispered my thanks, but he had already begun to stride acrossthe room. “Climb aboard, little monkey,” he told Amaris, kneelingbeside my younger sister. “Today you shall sit at your new brother’stable and eat as much as you want.”though Amaris could walk with a crutch, we traveled faster whenshe rode on Father’s broad back. She threw her arms around his neck.He stood and waited while Elisheba playfully tucked my sister’s thinlegs into the spaces beneath his arms. Once Amaris was securelyaboard, Father moved to the door and opened it to a flood of noise—laughter and clapping and rattling tambourines. Someone blew atrumpet, and my new husband’s ruddy face appeared in the doorway.“Bathsheba.” His eyes moved into mine, sparing not a glancefor the household furnishings or my father or even for the veil thatstood between us. His gaze filled an emptiness within me, the spacethat yearned for a good man who would love me and give me thechild who would fulfill my destiny. Surely Adonai had created mefor a man like Uriah.

My heart sang with delight as I stepped forward and slid myhand into his. He gave me a look of unmistakable gratitude, thentogether we moved through the courtyard on our way to the placehe had prepared—a lovely stone house on the heights of Jerusalem,a dwelling that lay in the shadow of the king’s grand palace.