Bathsheba

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'Today of all days, she needed to have this time alone to sort out her spinning thoughts. It was the last morning she would spend in this house as the daughter of Ammiel and Shiran. In just a few short hours, she would become the wife of Uriah the Hittite.”

Bathsheba didn’t dislike Uriah, but she didn’t love him either. Her father had promised her to him when she was just a child. Truth be known, Bathsheba still felt like a child –even if she was thirteen. Bathsheba’s mother, Shiran, had hoped her beautiful daughter might catch the eye of King David and perhaps become one of his wives. Even now, she had not given up on the idea.

Bathsheba had but one night with her husband, a career soldier, one of the Mighty Thirty in King David’s army, before he was summoned to war again. The law allowed for him to stay home with her for a year after the wedding. Uriah left the next day to sleep at the palace gate to be ready to march early the next morning. Was he displeased with her? She wondered.

Then one day as Bathsheba was bathing on the roof, she noticed the king on his balcony watching her. Soon she was summoned to the palace to spend the night with King David. Her mother rejoiced, but not for long. Bathsheba trembled when she heard the gossip. She knew the law said she should be stoned to death and that her mother and father would be required to throw the first stones. It was a night that would bring tragedy to their families, diminish the king in the eyes of his sons and subjects, and remind them all that “bad news” travels fast.

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