“She is shut in her quarters. Saul refuses to see her, because she took your part. I called to her window from the ground. She said: Tell David to send for me in the heat of day or the dead of night I will arise and follow him even to Sheol.”
“If I had loved her better, perhaps it would not have gone so hard for her. At least she would have had a blither memory during my exile. I have not used her well, Jonathan.”
“You were a kindly deceiver, David. She always believed that she was first with you. Would you have wanted to love her best?”
“I would change nothing. I regret nothing except that we did not meet as boys. I chose a god above a mortal, and mortals must weep. It is the condition of life.” He looked into his heart and saw how little he loved the princess, how easily and guiltlessly fooled her; how many women he would love and forsake, if only because they loved him.
“Are the gods exempt from tears?”
“Divine tears are silent and dry. The cruellest tears of all.”
“Perhaps you are right,” said Jonathan. “When the Lady created men, it is said that she wept because there was no man without his sorrow. She stood above the world, outspreading her wings like a cloak to enfold her creation. ‘My tears will fall like rain and water the parched and thirsting fields, and my people will know of my love,’ she thought But her tears were dry and she found and gave no solace. ‘I will give them the gift of laughter,’ she said, ‘a lantern to scatter their shadows.’ And only then she found peace.”
“It is a lovely tale.”
“It is also true, I believe.
“Such things may have happened once. But the gods must have died or forgotten. Or why do they shake the world, hurling storm against town, sea against land, Philistine against Israelite; separating lover from lover?”
“They nod, to be sure. Or wish to punish or test us. But this I know. Ashtoreth listens and sometimes she answers. Even in exile, David, speak her name and show her your heart.”
“I will speak your name, Jonathan, for you will go with me. In Egypt, Israel is known as the Wide Wilderness, not as the Promised Land. Saul and his army will never find us among the scorpions. Remember that I was once a shepherd. I can live in a forest or on a desert. You have shown me how to strike water from rocks. My father showed me how our ancestors caught the resin of the tamarisk and called it manna. Follow me, Jonathan. Why should we part because of this vicious demon in Saul? One day you will be king, and Saul will find peace in Sheol.”
“I ask only a garden in which to build elephants out of stone and a sea to sail or swim in, and David to be my friend. I will sit near your feet in the court. And we will hunt and fight together and our people will call us the Twin Archangels. But you, not I, will be king and your sons after you.”
He argued vehemently against the truth. “Do you think that all this time I wanted a throne? Courted favor with Saul, married Michal?”
“It is what you want and deserve. It is what I want for you. Protect my mother and sisters and brothers and I will serve you until I die.”
“And your children as well.”
“I will sire no children, I think.”
“Yet you lay with the Witch of Endor.”
“She will not beget. There is an herb she takes.”
“You have my promise. But why do you talk as if we were never to meet again? You will surely come with me into the Wilderness. Without you, I am afraid.”
“Why, you never feared anything, David! At first, perhaps. But not at the confrontation. Not even Goliath once you had loaded your sling. I’ve watched you enough in battle. I ought to know.”
“I fear loneliness. You are to blame for that.”
“Wherever you go you will find new friends.”
“Friendship is love without wings. I have asked you to join me. You have given no answer. I beg you to join me.”
“I can’t, David.”
“You would have gone before, when Achish asked us,” he cried. He wanted to shake him or strike him for his obstinacy. “Do you mean to return to court, where Saul has tried to kill you?”
“I have learned to anticipate his spears. There is a certain look he gets in his eye. Perhaps I can help him to fight his demon.”
“He isn’t even your father.”
“He is the only father I know. When I was a little boy he taught me to draw a bow and duel with a sword, and I was proud to make him proud of me. I still love what the demon has not destroyed. I still love the kindness hidden deep within him, like the water at the bottom of a well, under a weight of sand. But most of all I must see to the safety of my mother and Michal. Both of them helped in your escape and earned his wrath.”
David’s tears were dry and mute, and yet in that secret ark of the heart which has no name, unless it is called the Holy of Holies, he was strangely glad. It seemed to him that Ashtoreth, or the Mother behind the Mother, or whatever power decreed the fates of men, had offered him one perfection, like a jacinth with a hundred glittering facets impervious to time and change. He who had been a shepherd and then a prince must now become an exile, but he would carry the jacinth with him and neither thieves nor dust could corrupt its immortal fires. But the gem would flaw and yellow unless its match was possessed by the beloved. It was said by the elders of Israel that always there is one who embraces and one who opens his arms to receive the embrace. He did not want an unequal love.
“Remember me,” he said. “Remember me when you take a wife and bear children and march against the Philistines.”
“Once I was a little boy who slept under a warm coverlet with his toy animals. Then I was a youth who played at war with other youths in purple helmets. I was not happy, but I knew no other life. Then I met you. I have asked myself whether it was better before you came. The long hours of dreaming in my tent. The undemanding love I bore for Nathan, my armorbearer. There was loneliness, yes, like a dagger wound that nags and will not be healed. But not like this-this wound I think is almost mortal. Still, I do not want to be healed and I do not want to sleep.”
“How will it be when both of us sleep? Even Samuel, they say, descended into Sheol. Will we meet as shadows in the land of shades? Or is Sheol barred to us by Yahweh?”
“She was once our queen, your ancestress.”
“In the Cretan palace where I was a little boy-so my mother says-there was a tall alabaster image of a lady with outspread wings. Sometimes the water lapped around her feet, but it never touched her gown.
“‘She was once our queen, your ancestress,’ my mother said.
“Her wings fascinated me. What did she do with them?‘ I asked. (For all of our people had lost their wings, except for the little stubs you have seen on my back.)
“ She played among the clouds.’
“But the Sky God is not our friend. He loves the Cyclopes.’
“ There was a time when he loved the Goddess too.’
“And after the queen was tired of playing?’
“ ‘She flew to the Celestial Vineyard, beyond the stars.’
“And what is it like there, Mama?’
“No one has ever returned to tell us except this very queen. She loved a drone who had lost his wings in a storm and could not ascend in the nuptial flight. It was she who died before him. But some of our people saw her when she returned to lift him into the heavens.
“What is death?“ they cried.
”A place without Cyclopes, without earthquakes, where lovers are reunited with those they love at the time they loved the most.“