Micha

By Anthony Van

Micha, had a famous great grandfather, a famous grandfather, and his father had spent many years at the king’s table, but he was destined for obscurity. His life was under a curse, he was sure. Descended from royalty he was now a remnant of a family considered a blight on the nation. But options were still there. There was the tantalising—the most beautiful girl showed an interest in him. There was the risky—he could vie for the kingdom as a legal heir in the first royal lineage, and there was the mundane—he could manage the lands ceded to his father by the previous king.
What transpired was unexpected; more dangerous, more exciting and more fulfilling than he could have imagined.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anthony Van
• Release date: Oct 9, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005092115

Anthony Van

What does a retired teacher do? Especially a teacher with a hyperactive imagination and ingrained work habits. Well this one writes. And being a Christian, each novel I have written necessarily is pieced together from a Christian perspective.I have a broad range of interests which include science and technology, mathematics, travel, sports and the interrelationship of people. Much of what intrigues me about people is that some pursue truth with the determination of a bloodhound while others almost ignore existential ideas and while away their short time spent on earth being distracted by people or pleasures or possessions or power.Writing is a hobby. It allows me to research and self educate, and it also permits me to refine my perspectives of concepts existential and theological.

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Micha

Published by Anthony Van at Smashwords

Copyright Anthony Van 2022

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Prelude

This is an entirely fictional account of the son of Mephibosheth, the last remaining descendent of King Saul. It has an historical setting, and some effort has been made to glean information about the biblical characters and places.

In a time of violence and wars, King Solomon ushered in a period of peace. The Kingdom of Israel was at its zenith. It was David’s lineage that was promised the blessing, and Saul’s bore the curse of disobedience. Perhaps the one redeeming factor for the house of Saul was the faith and loyalty of Jonathan. Though he himself died in battle, his one descendent, Mephibosheth was preserved by David. And Micha was the one son of Mephibosheth recorded in the scriptures.

2 Samuel 9:12

12 Mephibosheth had a young son named Mika, and all the members of Ziba’s household were servants of Mephibosheth.

1 Chronicles 8:33-40

33 Ner was the father of Kish, Kish the father of Saul, and Saul the father of Jonathan, Malki-Shua, Abinadab and Esh-Baal.[e]

34 The son of Jonathan:

Merib-Baal (Mephibosheth), who was the father of Micah.

35 The sons of Micah:

Pithon, Melek, Tarea and Ahaz.

36 Ahaz was the father of Jehoaddah, Jehoaddah was the father of Alemeth, Azmaveth and Zimri, and Zimri was the father of Moza. 37 Moza was the father of Binea; Raphah was his son, Eleasah his son and Azel his son.

38 Azel had six sons, and these were their names:

Azrikam, Bokeru, Ishmael, Sheariah, Obadiah and Hanan. All these were the sons of Azel.

39 The sons of his brother Eshek:

Ulam his firstborn, Jeush the second son and Eliphelet the third. 40 The sons of Ulam were brave warriors who could handle the bow. They had many sons and grandsons—150 in all.

All these were the descendants of Benjamin.

Chapter 1

Is fate the purveyor of destiny? Why was it that some were gifted good fortune while his life was shackled to despair? Micha was once more brooding over his lot in a burgeoning city. He seemed oblivious to the lavish provision of sheepskins covering his bed or the spacious room in a well-appointed building within the royal precinct. Instead, he languished about the unfairness of it all. He bemoaned the loss of what could have been. Disinherited, the last vestige of a royal family, he had witnessed the crown being passed onto Solomon some years ago. Resentment had festered ever since.

There had been an initial hope that the new king would flounder and fail, that the people would demand Saul’s family representative would be reinstated; demand that he would be reinstated. After all, David had been such a hero, such a champion for the nation that his legacy would cast a shadow over all those who would follow. His son would seem mediocre if not incompetent. Not so, however; Solomon not only expanded the kingdom, but he also made it wealthier, more important and more united than ever. Vassal states paid levies, conquered peoples served, and allies traded and gave gifts. If anything, the king was more famous and more powerful than his father, David. Solomon was lauded as a wise and strong leader.

Micha rolled over on the thickly padded bed and lamented as he stared at his image in the polished brass mirror.

Nobody even remembers you…They think all Saul’s family are dead… He ran his hands through his dark hair. And my crippled father keeps saying we’re blessed. The words were almost hissed.

He dragged himself out of bed. Micha splashed his face with the water Janna, the servant girl, had left on the table. From there he went to the shelf at the end of his bed. His clean undergarment and overshirt for the day were folded neatly, having been washed by the house servants. The smell of lightly applied cassia oil was almost taken for granted. It was something Janna had done ever since she had arrived. He wondered when it was that she delivered the clothes. He rarely was awake anywhere near sunrise, so she had plenty of time to place the clean clothes on the shelf and bring in his bathing water. His outer cloak and turban hung on pegs in a wooden alcove filled with his extensive wardrobe. These were only washed when he left them on the floor; something he did unintentionally more often than he’d care to admit.

He dressed slowly. His life was purposeless. He remembered in his early teens eating at King David’s table with his father. It had only happened a few times because he was usually in the care of his mother. In those days he had dreams of greatness. David would recount some of his tales of military victories, and he would sometimes sing a song he had penned. At other times his father had told Micha that the king would often speak fondly of his grandfather. David had rated Jonathan as a hero of the nation. It had inspired him. He too could rise to military greatness.

That was in the past, though. Solomon had no desire to entertain members of Saul’s family. They could stay within the royal precinct but the king was preoccupied with the business of running the kingdom. He had endless meetings with builders, suppliers of materials and specialist craftsmen. There was also the endless cavalcade of legations from neighbouring countries, delighted to have an audience with the much-feted luminary and paragon of diplomacy and kingship. Now Micha, an only child, was barely on the fringes of celebrity. His mother had passed away and his father had become involved in managing their half of the family estate. Although he had employed a manager, ever since Ziba had betrayed him and lied to David, he felt it necessary to be involved in the supervision of the lands, crops and livestock. Now he no longer was a guest of the king, Mephibosheth needed to be occupied. His servants would carry him in a wicker chair and he would ensure that Ziba’s offspring kept to their allocated lands.

That was all well and good for his father, but Micha was listless. He had finished his studies with the rabbi his father had insisted upon. He had enthusiastically participated in his military training. The army was the best drilled and equipped in the region. Thousands of chariots were part of Solomon’s forces, and now hundreds of men were even training to be to be mounted calvary. For a people more comfortable riding donkeys than horses, it was a brave experiment. All Micha’s training was completed two years ago. He was now twenty-two and had spent the last two years pursuing the pleasures of youth to a point where he had gained a following of disreputable types that benefitted from his affluence. It was the reason his head ached from a long, misspent night, and he had once more wasted half a morning before surfacing.

His companions had sown seeds of rebellion within him. They claimed that he was the rightful heir to the throne. He was the last member of the first royal family, the first anointed to the kingship of Israel. Micha was not altogether credulous when it came to their promptings. He had memories of Adonijah, David’s fourth-born, who coveted the crown and sought to scheme his way into being recognised as the rightful heir. His death was ignominious, Benaiah ended his life after Adonijah’s second attempt to usurp the kingship. And, furthermore Micha reasoned, why should the people support him ascending to the throne when Israel was stronger and more respected than at any time in its troubled history. Still, he was bitter. There was nothing for him. The sordid indulgences of wine and women were transient pleasure amusements that left him feeling hollow and guilty afterwards. He would relish going into battle. At least then he’d have purpose and the opportunity to make a name for himself like David’s thirty mighty men. Instead, because Solomon had engendered peace on all borders, and his few enemies were too fearful to show themselves, there was calm and prosperity throughout the land.

Micha stood and examined his appearance. He was tall, with a strong physique, and knew his appearance was admired by the many young women accumulating in the king’s court. But the emptiness, the meaningless of his pursuits of pleasure now sickened him. He had had enough of the shallow and vacuous crowd that sought his company, at least for the present. Perhaps he would go and visit Kileab who was also called Daniel. Kileab was the son of Abigail, one of King David’s wives. He was one of the few real friends he had, someone who didn’t take advantage of his wealth. His mother had been in possession of the herds and land her first husband left her, and Kileab now managed the property in the south at Carmel. His friend was older than Micha and had married the lovely Adriel. She was a contrast to the women he knew. Not only was she a fine-looking woman, even when she insisted on minimal adornments, but she was astute, devout in the faith and virtuous. Micha envied Kileab that he had a full life.

The young Benjamite strode from his lodging aware that he had missed the morning meal provided by the king’s kitchen. He could go in and tease the workers in the kitchen. Many of the young girls there would readily give him something to eat; they always did. He would forego that today regardless that his stomach announced his fast. He was only a short distance out the gate of the compound when an older man confronted him. It was Jonathan, one of the thirty. He was an impressive man, even though he was no longer young. He spoke with a resonating baritone.

You do your grandfather a disservice, young Micha…You contribute nothing to the nation…You leave your father to manage the workers of the fields. It is to you that they look for a legacy for the family name, and yet you squander your life in loose living.

Micha bit back. It’s all right for you…You could serve in the battles against the Amalekites and Philistines…there are no wars for me to serve in.

Of that, you should be grateful…And what prevents you from serving in the peace? …This is what we fought for, what we longed for…what your grandfather died for…You don’t realise how blessed we are. Why, the king is starting to build a magnificent temple for our God. We are finally in the place we were meant to be, and we are witnessing God’s goodness to us.

Micha’s bitterness rose like bile in the throat. You may feel blessed. But my family has been annihilated…killed in battles, delivered to the people of Gibeah to placate them for the slaughter of the Gibeonites …and my father has to be carried around or placed on a donkey. So, I don’t feel blessed.

You forget…by all rights, all of Saul’s family should have been eliminated because of his rejection of God’s will for the people. It is a mercy that your father and you have the lives you have for Jonathan’s sake…Take the time to appreciate the grace the Good Lord has offered you. You will be judged by how you take advantage of your opportunities.

The old soldier about faced and walked away, clearly caught up in some other errand. Micha knew he had been rebuked. There was a knot deep in his stomach. He could expect as much from a priest or one of the rabbis, but to be lectured to by a hero of Israel, a man who had been credited with killing one of the few remaining giants, those words proved difficult to cast aside. He moved slowly from the spot, initially unsure what he had intended to do.

Micha again set off, recalling that he was heading toward the stables. Zicri, one of his parasitic companions greeted him.

What a night we had last night, hey? And that girl, Abi, she was all over you…You should take advantage of that.

The words echoed in Micha’s head. He had been warned about that very thing merely minutes ago.

Maybe we should visit her and her friends now… prompted Zicri with a salacious leer.

No. Micha cut him off. I’ve got other things to do.

Oh, come on…you never have anything that you have to do, he laughed as he said it and fell in step with the Benjamite ex-royal.

This time I do…I’m visiting a friend.

I’ll come with you…we’ll get some of the others and make a day of it.

No…I’m going alone…You join the others…I need to be alone.

Zicri slowed down. He wasn’t accustomed to having his suggestions repudiated so directly by Jonathan’s grandson. Well, if you’re sure…We’ll catch up tomorrow, hey?

Micha raised an arm in farewell but kept on walking. He was troubled by what the old soldier had said. Maybe he should work on their holdings. He had training in business and trading by the teachers attached to the palace; his work could save the estate some money if he replaced one of the managers. The thought of such a dreary, ordinary occupation made him shudder. That was not for him.

At the stables, one of the attendants readied his horse and chariot. Although he was proud that he was one of the few who rode a horse with confidence and skill, riding along the main roads drew far too much attention. He recalled that while he was still a youngster, King David had provided a Persian trainer for those interested to learn the exotic skill of riding, but it was still a rarity. Most preferred donkeys and the well to do took advantage of the chariots that King Solomon acquired for the kingdom. His chariot was a little more comfortable and heavier than the war chariots being obtained for the fighting men. And riding a horse was more challenging when he still hadn’t recovered completely from his drinking.

He looks well, commented Micha to the young stable hand. The boy, called Hanun after a past Ammonite king, although he was an Amorite himself, replied, I think he needs a good work, sir…It is a while since he has been out.

Micha tilted his head and frowned. Was the slave boy mildly reproving him? The way the lad caressed the beast and nuzzled his head against it after he had fitted the bridle, showed his love of horses. It quickly nullified his irritation. Hanun was only thinking of the horse.

You’re probably right, growled Micha gruffly, fixing the boy a stern stare. He was going to say he’d been too busy but thought better of it. Servants didn’t require an explanation, and it wasn’t true anyway.

Micha scruffed the mane of the horse before walking to the ornately outfitted platform on wheels. He stood on the elevated portion, appreciating the advanced leather suspension that his chariot was fitted with. With a flick of the reins he lurched forward. Quickly he moderated his pace. The king’s stable stewards would not be pleased with anything but a walking gait within the city boundaries. Micha waved to a few people who called out blessings to Solomon’s family and progeny, assuming that only relatives of the king would be provided with such expensive possessions. He was nearing the southern gate when he saw a beautiful girl. Surely it wasn’t, he asked himself. She was with a companion servant examining some fine shawls on the edge of the market and her long dark hair splayed over her shoulders. He pulled up his horse and stared. It was Tamar, Absalom’s daughter. He hadn’t seen her since he was fifteen and she was eleven. Then it had been five years after her father had been killed. She had been pretty then but she was stunning now. He shook his head in dismay. Twelve years since Absalom’s failed rebellion.

He was aware that she gave him a sidelong look. Her tongue licked her bottom lip as if she were evaluating him. A sly smile dimpled her cheek before she turned away. Tamar and the other girl went further into the market and disappeared from sight. Micha’s heart thumped. The tragic story of the family replayed in his mind as he passed out of one portion of the city and into Zion, the part referred to as the city of David. Tamar was one of three or four children of Absalom; he couldn’t be sure if she had two or three brothers. Absalom had murdered one of his half-brothers, a son of David, because his sister had been raped by him. That girl, now a woman, was also named Tamar. She had lived a desolate life after the incident. She was a recluse, and some said she had been damaged and was no longer in her right mind. Absalom had craved the kingship, and for a brief time his dashing appeal and popularity had gained him power. It didn’t last long. He took the wrong advice and suffered a humiliating demise. King David had continued looking after the family, much the same as Micha and his father had been cared for. In a similar vein, Solomon’s court and achievements were so astounding that those who were previously prominent had now faded into the background of the incredibly prosperous monarchy. And though barely remembered, Solomon still provided for past members of the court.

Tamar’s angelic face still lingered in his memory. He would have to see her again. He would have to meet her. Being the child of a former enemy of the king’s father she would be more on the fringes than he, but clearly she still had some support or a benefactor to be accompanied by a servant while shopping. After all, she was still David’s offspring through her father Absalom.

Those thoughts left him as Micha passed through the last of the city and headed on the Hebron road, south. He could go a little faster now that he was away from the clutter of Jerusalem. It was still a winding route with dips and rises as he made his way through the southern heights. After an hour he reached Hebron and veered south eastward, ascending to Carmel, where Kileab had his extensive herds and property. He would check out the vineyards before going on to Maon, where Kileab and Adriel lived. The rutted valleys were still green from the winter rains. He knew that by the end of summer the desiccating sun will have seared and scorched the land, painting it burnt shades of taupe to sepia. Any livestock would have to rely on the feed stored by the farmers. From the look of the rugged hills a decent store of fodder would be harvested this season.

***

It was mid-afternoon when Micha’s chariot eventually passed through the small town of Carmel and he began scanning the fields for any sign that Kileab might be visiting his shepherds and goat herders. He scolded himself that his indolent habits had lost him a fair portion of the day. The return trip, in the dark of night, would not be without hazards.

It wasn’t till he was winding along the down slope toward Maon that he saw Kileab. He watched as his friend supervised some young workers planting new grapevines that were bundled in a cart. Kileab was middle aged and had an impressive beard. Some said the second son of David looked more like his father than any of his siblings. The man had taken a protective interest in Micha, deciding that it was his father’s wish that Jonathan’s memory be honoured; and since Micha was the only living descendent of David’s best friend, he took it upon himself to mentor him. On Micha’s part, he saw Kileab’s efforts as a little patronising rather than him being his patron, but Kileab and Adriel were such uplifting characters that he endured the excessive interest in his activities.

Micha was tying the reins to a scrubby bush when Kileab saw him and hailed him. As he hastened up the hill his voice resonated,

Blessed are You, Lord our God, Ruler of the Universe, who is good and causes good, he declared with eyes heavenward. Micha, Addy and I were just talking about you this morning…and it’s so good to see you.

Good to see you, too…I needed to get away from the royal court…and you’re among the few people who bring any sanity to my life.

So, you haven’t chosen a vocation yet? he pressed with a mock stern expression.

No, not yet…It seems that the kingdom has no need of defunct royal heirs or the progeny of failed regimes.

That sounds like you’re going back to moping about the past…I thought you’d outgrown that.

No, I’m still petty and resentful.

Micha, Micha… His head swayed from side to side. We should get you to work in the fields and give you a taste of the real world. He laughed at the young man’s sour expression. Come, we must go to Addy, she will make a feast for us tonight.

Kileab, I cannot stay too long…The journey back gets more dangerous the later I go.

Nonsense! You must stay with us. Spend a few days before you go back. The children will be pleased to see their Uncle Micha.

Micha shrugged and went back to his chariot. He saw that Kileab was mounting his donkey and heading south along the road to his home. Micha followed. It wasn’t long before they reached the extensive domicile belonging to Abigail’s only son. Though her first husband, Nabal, had a very poor reputation, because of his tight fisted and boorish nature, he certainly knew how to establish a prosperous business and a comfortable life style. The main house was surrounded by storerooms and lodgings for the many field workers. It created a generous courtyard at the front. Farther away were stables, animal pens a winepress and grindstone for grinding grain.

Micha followed Kileab to the stable where a stable boy took his master’s donkey and led it to a stall.

Just leave your chariot. Yosh will look after your mount.

Thank you, but I’d rather see to him myself, he answered in a surprising concession to the work the horse had