The Cost of Fealty, Part 10 (2 Samuel 11)

Uriah sat in the king’s gardens, his mind reeling from the recent discoveries and from the afternoon heat mingled with the exotic and foreign scents of flowers. His heart beat fast, and it was difficult to slow his mind down to think through everything. There was a lot going on, and the soldier had to act very carefully with what he knew; he had to have facts, not just feelings or worries. So he thought through what he did know.

Uriah was certain that David was involved in some relationship with a woman (or even women) that was deemed inappropriate by his own servants and that caused the king himself much torment. The poem he found and the servants’ conversation could mean nothing else. Further, Uriah was sure that it was for this reason that the king had called Uriah to meet him for the morning prayers. Perhaps the king had hoped to ask Uriah for advice, or maybe he simply wanted to confide in another, to get the burden of guilt off his chest. Uriah could not be certain exactly why the king had wanted to speak with him, but he was sure it had to be regarding this relationship. The two had been friends for many years, so it was natural that the king would confide in him.

Still, thought Uriah in worry, why not confide in Joab or in his own brothers? I’m not that close to the king. We’ve served together many years, but why confide in me?

The Cost of Fealty, Part 9 (2 Samuel 11)

I feel like a thief, Uriah nervously thought to himself as he raced through the palace halls, trying to hurry without looking hurried. I can’t believe I’m doing this.

He had carefully questioned the palace employees to learn that King David would be in council with the ambassador from Egypt until just before the noon meal. That meant he had less than an hour to find the scroll. If all went well—if he didn’t run into any unexpected visitors, if the scroll actually was where he assumed it would be—then Uriah wouldn’t even need that hour. But if he did run into unexpected trouble… He chose to consider that possibility if the need arose.

The Cost of Fealty, Part 8 (2 Samuel 11)

The soldier awoke before dawn, as had been his custom for probably the last twenty years. He stretched his sore back and rubbed his eyes. He stood up and went in search of somewhere to wash his face. Uriah found a small cistern by the kitchen, where he did his best to wash up.

“Prince Uriah,” he heard a man’s voice behind him.

Uriah wiped the water from his face and turned to face one of the palace guards, a man who looked too tired to be called one but who nonetheless wore the uniform of a guard.

“Peace, soldier,” Uriah nodded, then waited. When the man failed to continue, Uriah spoke, “Speak. Do you have a message?”

The palace guard nodded, “Yes, sir. Yes, I do. King David desires your presence immediately.”

“Good,” Uriah grunted. Finally, he could discuss business with the king, and then be gone back to his men. It had taken far too long already. “Take me to him.”

The Cost of Fealty, Part 7 (2 Samuel 11)

Uriah, once again in his grubby military clothes, made his way through the palace and out to the same gate he had entered hours before. He was angry again. Why was the king so incessantly delaying things? Why did he insist Uriah stay the night in Jerusalem? Why did he send for word from Rabbah and yet continue to silence Uriah any time he spoke up?

“He can force me to stay in Jerusalem over night, but I certainly am not going to enjoy things. Not while my general sleeps in a tent.”

“What’s that, my lord?”

The Cost of Fealty, Part 6 (2 Samuel 11)

Uriah angrily and forcefully straightened the rich and soft robe King David had given him for the night. It was Egyptian linen, sturdy stuff, but Uriah wasn’t in the least concerned about ripping the fabric. He was mad, angry with a man he wasn’t allowed to be angry with.

“Does he not understand battle any longer?” Uriah grabbed a gold chain the king had requested he wear and roughly hung it about his neck. “Does he think everyone is just sitting around in tents enjoying the sun and each other’s company? He’s no warrior. Killed a giant? This man couldn’t kill a stray dog if he was forced to. Fat. Lazy. Forgotten how to be a soldier.” The man continued to grumble as he tied the sandals he had been given, sandals that were probably made and never worn, sandals that looked pretty but would never last on any city street. Uriah sighed as if saying to himself, Just try to enjoy it, old man. It’s not often you’re asked to dine with the king.

“No, not asked,” Uriah reminded himself, rekindling his frustration, “forced.”