The Gaze of a King

It is nights like these when the wind sweeps through the dusty streets--coating my thick brown hair--that I ponder over my life. The house is still. There is no pitter patter of tiny footsteps echoing through the house. No deep laughter rumbling from my love's chest. Silence looms all around me. For some this would be welcome tranquility, but not for me. The quietness is a hollow reminder that the man I love is someone far out of my reach fighting enemies instead of sharing these moments with me.

As I pad softly across the floor I catch a glimpse of the palace gates. My husband is a high-ranking soldier in King David's army. He is one of the King's Mighty Men-- an elite group of thirty- seven soldiers. It comes with both its blessing and its disappointments. To live so close to the King is a great honor. We are often welcomed at court, during times when Israel is at peace. It boasts to others of our station and it also means that Uriah is a good soldier. Being an excellent and fearless warrior has its consequences. It requires that your talents be used to serve the King by fighting his battles.

I pass two of my servants who are huddled in a corner reclining. I motion to them with my hands and they rise to their feet quickly. My fists are clenched tightly around my chest, drawing the loose fabric to my skin. I hear footsteps trailing behind me and know that they are following after me. Without having to be told they get right to work. Elisheva grabs a bucket lying against the door frame while Martha grips hold of the train of fabric spanning the floor around me.

We ascend the stone steps that curl around the outside of the house. Once we are on the roof my eyes scan the city hungrily. Somewhere beyond the horizon is Uriah, and I wonder if he is thinking of me as much as I am thinking of him. I hear splashes of water and look up to see Elisheva already returned and getting right to work in filling the tub. Water slowly fills the large, wooden basin as both of my ladies continuously empty buckets within its edges.

I slip my toes into the water. It is cool to the touch- a welcome contrast to the dry and dusty air. I squat into the rising water, submerging my entire body. I feel fingers comb through my brown hair and moan softly at the tingling sensation that runs along my scalp. Martha places vibrant flowers on the water's surface. The fragrance released floods my senses as the delicate bulbs bob up and down.

My hair is rinsed and the dirt is scrubbed from my skin. Oils are lathered on my legs and arms after I am patted dry. I am now cleansed from my impurity as is required by the Law of Moses. My servants each grab a hold of my hands as I am swaddled in a piece of new lengthy fabric. We descend the staircase and retreat inside the house, where I dismiss my servants for the night as soon as I enter my quarters. A warm sigh slips between my lips and fills the noiseless house. I wish Uriah were here. There is never a quiet moment with him around.

With my servants already retired for the night, I am alone with myself. I rub my arms enthusiastically, the oil saturating my skin and making them irresistible to touch. My fingers trail my shoulders and I rest my hand on the back of my neck. My muscles are always so much more relaxed after I have had my bath. It is one of my favorite things to do each month. My eyes begin to droop as I revisit memories shared between my husband and me.

Quickly after I crawl into bed I can feel myself starting to drift to sleep. My silky covers cacoon me in their warmth, lulling me into a sweet dream. They are no substitute for my husband's arms, though. All of a sudden I am ripped from my state of peace. A loud knock has me jilting out of the comfort of my bed. I squint my eyes, trying to decipher shadowy objects in the darkness. 

I feel around the foot of my bed, searching for the lamp I left there. My fingers brush against the familiar surface and shape of my oil lamp. I clasp it firmly in my hands and fidget with it hurriedly as I try to light it. When the wick in the center catches flame the darkness surrounding me fades slightly. The door shakes as a forceful knock is unleashed throughout the house again. A sense of urgency courses through my veins, making my feet swift as I race to my door. 

I steady the lamp in one hand while my other hand wraps around the door handle. When I jerk it open a closed fist is hanging in the air. It drops immediately. I search the shadowy figure in front of me and notice that the burly man is not alone. He is accompanied by someone who almost matches his height and intensity.

"Are you Bathsheba, the daughter of Eliam, wife of Uriah," A deep voice inquires.

I nod my head and the soft glow from my lamp flickers with my movements.

"Yes, I am."

His dark eyes narrow on me. My heart begins to pick up its pace as I stare back at him. His sharp jaw loosens as he parts his thick lips once more.

"The King requests an audience with you. We will accompany you to the palace immediately."

Without any warning a blast of wind sweeps past both soldiers and me, entering the house in a fury. My lamp is extinguished. An eerie feeling creeps its way up my spine. What does the King want with me?