The small hum of his tender breathing vibrates against my chest. I watch him as he sleeps soundly nestled against my bare skin. I ignore the whispering around me, the covered mouths, and pointed stares. He's all that matters to me.
"Bathsheba."
I look up from my son and the King's eyes latch onto mine. He leaves the midwife, whose expression is hardened by sorrow. Kneeling by my side he places a hand over our son's head. It amazes me how the King's hand engulfs his tiny body. My baby could effortlessly fit completely into his father's palm.
"Let me see him, Bathsheba," He pleads with me gently.
I shake my head. His place is with me. I need to feel him breathing against me.
Then I hear something I have never heard before. David's voice breaks as he utters, "Let me hold our son."
His voice yanks at my heart. In my mind I had carried this child these short months, I had fought through bitter pain to bring him into this world against my will, but the King has claim to him as well.
Despite the shame the King has brought me and my family, I would never have known how much love I could possess for something so helpless. He is my child's father. I decide to allow his request. I try to lean forward, but wince at the effort.
"Lie down, my love," He says, his hands guiding me back down. I sigh as the pain in my lower abdomen decreases once my body begins to relax. I lessen my hold of my son and the King slowly, cups his hands underneath him.
The King lays our son on his chest, holding him there tightly with both hands. I watch as tears escape from his eyes and land on the collar of his royal robes. He walks away from me and approaches the midwife.
My heart aches not having him with me. My eyes narrow in confusion when the King places our son in her arms. She hurries away, her attendants following right behind her. I make the mistake of lurching forward.
I cry out at the pain. Black spots dot my vision. Then, I feel someone's hands on my shoulders. I rapidly try to blink away the blackness clouding my vision. As I lay down once more, my vision clears. King David is hovering over me. His eyes lined with concern. He releases the grip he has on me, but his hands do not budge.
"W-where-" I ask weakly.
Where are they taking my son?
"The midwife is going to help him. He's weak, Bathsheba. He needs her care."
His jaw muscles clench, and his eyes suddenly have a faraway look in them. They say much more than his words ever could. It is the same look as the whispering servants; the same hardened glance the midwife tried to conceal. A surge of urgency courses through me.
"S-summon the pro-prophet," I murmur, through ragged breaths.
David's eyes widen at the mention of him. When Nathan refused to turn a blind eye to the King's sins, David had him banned from the palace. Nathan was the only one brave enough to stand up to the King. And that is something King David could scarcely forgive.
"Please," I beg.
"God is punishing us," I say, tears numbly staining my face, " Summon Nathan. He may be our son's only hope."
He nods defeated, then rushes out of the room.
Author's note: I know it's short, don't shoot me! I can only write so much sadness at once. :( And I also want to give my readers time to recuperate in between such sad installments. Please, let me know what you think in the comments below. I love reading you're comments and discussions about the story.
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The Gaze of a King
Historical Fiction*Sacred Crowns- Book 2* Her whole life she had been called beautiful. Glances and envious eyes were always cast her way. But never had Bathsheba expected to catch the eye of her King. And never in her wildest imaginings did she anticipate the trage...
