King David sat at his Harp, gently plucking at the strings. His nimble fingers finding their notes with precision. He had now been playing the harp for as many years as the greatest harpist in any of the nations around Israel. People would gather from the hills and valleys to hear their king play, his music sounding as if his hands were directed by God Himself.

He had now been reigning king for twenty years. He was David, the slayer of Goliath. King David the unifier, David the conqueror of Jerusalem, David the Raider King, David who had returned the Ark and commissioned the great Temple.

He had been struggling to find inspiration lately, his restlessness keeping him up late into the night. He was the King, and the days schedule would fit to his demand. He looked around his bedchambers. His wives were sleeping in various positions around the room, bedding having been added to multiple areas, and a large room in the palace dedicated to the king.

Deuteronomic law had forbidden him to multiply wives unto himself. The priests had known about his seven wives that were all now sleeping to the sound of the harp strings. The priests had heard rumors of his ten concubines as well, having turned an eye. What the priests were not aware of where his other three wives that he kept in neighboring Dimona by Negev. The priests did not know of his other twelve concubine either. The King could circumvent whatever law he wanted. He was God’s chosen one. The anointed King.

The moonlight shone through the large windows alighting his wives with its glowing beams. For their king, they had slept naked. He looked over them all as his fingers began to strike a new tune. Ahinoam, whose golden skin was bathing in God’s greatest light. Her breasts were the largest of all his wives, on her back they fell off to each side of her. Her nipples spreading across most of the surface. Her wide hips had already borne a son. Abigail, his stolen bride, would whisper about her former husband into his ear driving David wild with desire and jealousy. Maacah, the daughter of Talmay, king of Geshur. She was his royal wife. Her midnight skin was the envy of his other wives. Her nipples a shade lighter were dark, smaller but pointing towards David calling him to her more often than the others. Haggith, Abital, and Eglah were his special brides. They slept together on bedding, Haggith’s arms draped around Abital, a hand cupping her breasts. Eglah had fallen asleep with her head upon Haggith’s inner thigh.

He walked from the harp to Maacah, his dark princess. She was his bride, but he would worship her body as though she were Queen. He placed his hands on her shoulder stirring her from her sleep. Her curly hair stood tall on her head, it’s texture beyond any woman of Israel. He entered the bed, placing a hand on her cheek and kissing her. She leaned in, putting her hand around her King’s sword. It was now hard, and he was ready to apply his supplications to her eager body.

He placed his hands on her shoulders gently urging her to lay back. He slid down between her legs and entered her holy of holies, cleaning the temple with his tongue. His princess reached down, grasping at the King’s hair urging him to enter her. He crawled back up, placing his hard sword into her valley, pressing it urgently into her. She would conceive him a son tonight. He rocked his hips into her, as her long ebony legs wrapped themselves around his hips, holding him in.

With a final thrust, he spread his seed deep into her. He leaned in for a final kiss, standing now naked and sitting back at the harp. He plucked at the strings, having now a few more notes to add to his composition. Maacah was subdued by this drifting back to her sleep now glistening with her and David’s sweat.

Looking to the terrace, David rose again. He stood staring up at the moon and stars that God had placed just for him. The night shimmered and was as bright in these days as the day was. Looking down at his city, he inhaled deeply steadying himself. These were his people. As he continued to look at the homes of his subjects his eyes were drawn to a roof not far from the palace gates. There he saw his new muse.

On the roof, glowing in the moonlight was the soft olive-skinned beauty. The hair, a golden blonde. Eyes of blue that were not often seen in Israel in these days. And arm rose up, lifting with it a container of water, pouring it down upon the body. A hand rose, running it along the arms that were thin with muscles like cords of rope. Each muscle could be seen from here. The back was smooth, spine perfect, curving seductively from the bottom of the curly blonde hair to the perfect mounds that rested above the legs. The legs. They were as defined as the arms, ropes of muscles and calves like a lion leading to perfect little feet.

David looked, then he watched. He was captivated by the movements of this temptress. Moving to the side chamber where one of his Mighty Men of Valor had taken the night watch. Ishbaal, a strong man with arms thicker than the base of a cypress tree, his skin also midnight, made him a fearsome-looking man.

“Ishbaal, go retrieve for me from Bathsheba’s home whoever was bathing on the roof. The King wishes to speak with them.”

Ishbaal bowed and with haste took off through the courtyard and to the home. He returned sometime later dragging with him by the arm the figure David had seen.

“Bow before your King,” Ishbaal commanded with his deep Baritone voice ripping through the air deeper than the lowest note David could elicit from all the instruments he played. Ishbaal would on occasion sing for him, his voice harmonizing with the Harp as he plucked along.

Before him, this small figure bowed to its knees.

“My king,” he said with a soft voice.

David looked. Before him was a man who looked not much older than he was when he had first faced Goliath.

“Who are you?” He asked, walking around the prostrate figure examining him.

Ishbaal had been with the King for many years. He and the other two Mighty Men had grown accustomed to his particular… interests. David had conquered many women, and on occasion, he would desire to conquer more. Ishbaal turned his eyes to the courtyard, surveying for danger.

“I am Uriah of Hittite… may I ask what the king requests of me?”

“You know of my skills with the harp?”

“My king, everyone has heard the songs of David sung all over Israel. You are the greatest in the land! When I was a boy my mother had brought me to the court where you played before giving a speech!”

When he was a boy. David had been ruling for some time now, coming into power when he himself was a boy. So, this soft angel had grown watching him. This made David contemplate the cycle of life and his place in it. Three score and seven were promised only to the good, and he was now getting older, and he knew he was not so good.

David smiled, “and did this music please you?”

“Yes, my king!”

“Rise.”

Uriah stood and the king took his hand, “come, allow me to play for you.”

Uriah was brought to the king’s bedchambers. His wives were still deep in their sleep, and Uriah did his best to avert his eyes.

“The beauty of what the king’s palace holds. Please, enjoy as you would all of my art.”

Uriah relaxed, allowing himself to steal brief looks. The was the dark princess. She was coveted around the land.

David looked upon Uriah, reaching his hands up he started to pluck at his strings. Inspiration had finally struck as David improvised a new song.

David satisfied that he now had some new songs to work with released Uriah to go home, with instructions that he return to the palace tomorrow at the king’s demand.

The next evening as the sun was beginning to set Uriah returned to the palace. He was brought to the bedchamber where David was alone with Maacah.

“My subject, Uriah. Sit.”

He did as commanded.

David began to pick at the strings as Maacah walked to the door, her bare feet tapping lightly on the stone floor. Her robes were thin, and of a fine quality. They were purple in color, a rarity in this time reserved mainly for royalty.

Maacah walked back, standing between David and Uriah. She began to dance as was customary for her to do for the king. He respected her above all his wives, not commanding but requesting. She ran her hands up her robe and through her thick hair. As she danced and her body moved her robe became relaxed against her skin. She slipped the robe off her body and to her feet now naked in front of the men, moving her body in her seductive dance. The men were entranced.

David ceased playing and looked at Uriah, “do you play?”

“I have been instructed in a few notes, but I cannot dare play after you!”

“You will play for us. First, assist your king. Take my robes.”

Uriah walked to David reluctantly and reached a shaking hand out. These types of acts were not unknown but were forbidden still to commit. He was doing this at his king’s bequest. He took the robes from the king until he was now bare as Maacah.

“Play.”

Uriah sat at the harp and struck a simple tune.

David brought Maacah to the bed, laying her down so that he was facing the harp. He stood upon his knees, Maacah raising her hips and resting on her shoulders as her king penetrated her. David made eye contact with Uriah, watching and listening to his playing as he rocked back and forth into Maacah’s hot lips.

David paused, “no, this is not quite right.”

David stood and walked to the harp. He lifted Uriah up, who was afraid to speak or say anything. His day had taken him to a place that he could not have imagined. David stripped Uriah of his clothing, and walked around him, taking in his body with his eyes.

David sat back down at the harp and started to play the song that Uriah had inspired.

“Now you take my place.”

Maacah smiled and looked to Uriah. A princess laying with one of the common subjects. This intrigued her.

“But my king!” Uriah protested.

“Would you disobey your king?”

Uriah walked to the black princess, her skin glistening with sweat already from the sex that she had already started to have. She was dilated and wet, waiting to receive. Uriah climbed into the bed between her legs. He was not ready, looking to his king. The king looked deeply into Uriah’s eyes and he started to stiffen. He was now ready, pushing into the king’s wife.

David continued to play as Uriah went in and out of Maacah. Maacah was enjoying this, breathing deeply onto the top of Uriah’s head, her hands gripping his golden hair, his mouth wrapped around her dark breasts.

Uriah stood back, spraying his seed on the floor. David looked pleased. Uriah was anxious. The king had commanded such odd things of him. His stare stirred up strange feelings. David could see this anxiety and snapped his fingers. The door opened and Maacah put her robe back on, exiting as Haggith, Abital, and Eglah entered the bedchamber, closing the door behind them.

David was still sitting at the harp.

“Come, Uriah. Sit at my feet as I play.”

Uriah did as he was told and sat, leaving a small space between him and the king. The king moved his naked leg so that it was pressed firmly lengthwise across Uriah’s back establishing intimate contact.

David looked at his wives and started playing a tune that was familiar to them. The women looked to one another and began to disrobe. Haggith grabbed at Abital and began to kiss her. This excited Uriah but calmed his nerves. The king had some… peculiar interests. He had not heard of this as rumors concerning the great conquests of the king were carefully seeded to the public.

Eglah lowered onto her knees in front of Abital, placing her hands on her stomach and leaning her head into her sweet mound, licking her honey straight from the source. Haggith and Eglah gave Abital attention. The king was pleased watching this as Uriah began to rise again. They lifted Abital and placed her on the bed. Haggith sat above Eglah’s face, who began to now lick at her. Abital continued to lick at Eglah.

They put on this show for the king and his companion well past the sun setting. With a snap of his fingers, the women robed themselves and exited. They all had private chambers that they would return to this night.

David placed his hand on Uriah’s shoulder, grasping it firmly, pushing his thumb around in circles into the tight muscles surrounding his neck.

Uriah looked up at his king. This was his forbidden desire that he was always careful to keep down. It was forbidden under law. This no longer seemed to matter now, as Uriah placed his hand on David’s foot, turning to face him on his knees. David placed a finger under Uriah’s chin and leaned down kissing him. Uriah bowed down and kissed at David’s feet.

David stood, placing a hand on Uriah’s golden curls. Uriah understood that he was the king’s to command and allowed him to guide his head towards his sword. Uriah opened his mouth in surrender and began to move his mouth up and down his king's shaft.

David refused to break eye contact, even as his seed spread into the back of Uriah’s throat.

“Mmm, return to the palace again.”

Over several weeks David had Uriah secreted to the palace. Whispers began to circulate among the priests and Pharisees that the king’s perversion had reached new levels.

Uriah arrived as the moon was full, lighting the bedchamber with an ethereal bright glow. The king laid him upon the bed and entered him from behind. He was tighter than any of the wives or concubines that David had experienced before.

This was not his first time. Jonathan’s recorded words sang of love for David. He had reciprocated those feelings. A soldier and a prince, and now here he was in a slightly similar but opposite position. History never recorded how much Jonathan loved David, but this experience showed David what to do to Uriah.

Uriah breathed rapidly. His chest face was red, and his bronze chest started to take a pink hue. With a few more plunges David unloaded his seed deep into Uriah.

This would be the last night. The Pharisees and priests had plotted and had to catch the king in the very act.

Uriah arrived late in the night again to “consult” the king. With him be brought a ribbon of crimson red. Color was coveted and this had been carefully kept in his family. David was on the bed as Uriah climbed up, sitting on David’s lap. He took the cloth and began tying David’s right arm to the post by the bed.

David smiled at this devious behavior.

Stretching the cloth across to his left arm now, he tied that one tightly to the opposite post. Uriah kissed the king on his forehead. It was a slow kiss. He kissed him firmly on the lips, then to his neck. He made his way down slowly kissing the skin down David’s chest and stomach. Moving the blankets, he revealed the king and took him into his mouth.

Over the weeks David had Maacah instruct Uriah in the ways that he liked. He had Uriah watch her worship him first. Then he had her worship Uriah with her mouth. He listened to her instructions, and she would watch placing her hands on his head and guiding him.

He was here with David alone this time, his head moving up and down, wetness from his mouth slowly dripping down the length of David’s manhood and onto his sack.

The doors flew open and the priests rushed in surrounding the bed.

“IN THE VERY ACT!” They shouted.

They screamed out scripture and accusations. Uriah was dragged from the bed and David was left tied. Shammah, another of his Mighty Men pushed past the sentinels that the priests had brought, drawing his blade and facing it towards the priest. Shammah had killed 800 men alone in a single encounter while defending some of the outer fields of Israel.

The priests shook. There was no way they could stop this man. Fearing for their lives they left, pronouncing that there would be inquiries into what had happened.

The months following were a flurry of hearings, consultations with Rabbi’s that were… sympathetic to the human condition. They poured over the scarce verses that they were trying to turn against David now. He pointed in vain that their interpretations where all out of context. That none of the verses forbade it.

In this time Uriah had been kept in the dungeons. They had tortured him viciously. He took all the blame for what had happened. That it was he who had snuck into the palace. That David was with Maacah and she had fled when he entered, and the King was defenseless tied to a bed. He would bear his secret.

The trials ended and punishment was determined.

David was stripped to his undergarments. The Pharisee that had led the charges grabbed his hair and pulled his head back with a jerk. David was tied and bound on his knees and unable to move. The priest to out a sharpened blade and began to shave the king of his hair, a shame for him.

Removing the hair from his head, they left his beard untouched. In the courtyard where he was tied Uriah was brought out and tied to a post. In these times the punishment for his crime was simple.

The priest picked up the stones, and David trembled. Every hit he flinched to and could feel as though it was his own body.

David was brought to the city gates. They thrust upon him Saul’s tunic from old. It had still fit him even in his slightly older age. His armor was strapped to him, and Goliaths sword was strapped upon his back.

You cannot execute a king. You can send the king to the front lines of a war to be killed. This was David’s punishment. Walking out of the gates three figures stood tall, adorned in armor waiting for their king. It was Ishbaal, Shammah, and Eleazer, his three Mighty Men. They would ride with their king to Abraham’s bosom.

David turned to face the gates of his city. The lead priest glared and shouted, “Thus falls the great king of Israel. Fallen into depravity. God is no longer with you.”

David scoffed and turned, marching to war.

Arriving at the battlefield the scene was not good. There were bodies strewn across the field everywhere. As soon as they saw, they understood. The small army they had sent was not enough, and now Israel was being marched upon, if it wasn’t already besieged.

They made their way quickly back to find an army of thousands surrounding the gates.

God is not with me. No. God is always with me.

David removed his armor, letting it fall to the ground. He removed his tunic and was now down to his sackcloth.

Reaching to his satchel that he had dropped he pulled the red cloth from it, and carefully wrapped it around his eyes.

His men stared at their king.

“My lord, what would you have us do?” Asked Ishbaal.

“My God is the God of Israel and he never abandons his people. He will be my eyes.”

“And us your shield.”

David grabbed his blade and stormed the field. He was guided by invisible arms, unseeing his blade met his mark with each swing and thrust. After hours of battle the noise eventually subsided and David was now alone with his Mighty Men. He removed his blindfold and surveyed the scene. The army was laid waste before him. Looking to his men and down upon himself he could see that all the men were anointed with crimson battle oil. Refusing to wash it he walked proudly to the city gates. God indeed was still with him.

David walked triumphantly through the streets, the grateful subjects praising their king and God for delivering them again from the hands of a larger enemy.

The priests stood at the palace doors, looking at the man they had sent to die. There could be no arguing with this. This was King David. He was the man who led men into battle. This was the man who killed Goliath, whose blade was now out and at his side. This was the man who led three men to fight off an army of thousands just moments ago.

They stood aside. They understood that there would be changes in the priesthood coming. What they had done would not go unpunished.

David stood at the palace gates and stared at the crowd. He was still coated; the color was now brown and mixing with his own sweat. Walking through the crowd he pointed to a woman who the guards escorted to the palace. She would be a new concubine. He pointed to another; each one he had selected happy to be chosen by the king. He pointed to a figure. Everyone remained silent. This was the man God had chosen, how could he be wrong. The figure stood tall. His bald head and ebony skin glistened in the sun. His arms bulged from his work as a smith. He smiled and the guards escorted him to the palace too.

David was now just flexing to prove his point.

He was chosen.

He was anointed.

He WOULD do what he desired.

David sat in the throne room and stared at the now brown stained cloth that had been Uriah's. Ishbaal brought him his victory train. When a king would go into battle they would cut a piece of cloth from their enemies to represent victory in battle and attach it to a robe. This robe was known as a victory train. The longer the train the more glorious the king. He tied the crimson cloth to his train, a personal victory against the lying priests. He knew it was only a victory for him, and that in his time he could not save others.

He sat at the harp and a new, heavy melody filled the palace.

He wrote his words for his sons so that perhaps they would change things. A reminder that nothing is new. That love in all it's forms had existed since man first walked and would always exist, side by side with the hatred in mankinds heart.

 The words of the Preacher, the son of David, king in Jerusalem.

 Vanity of vanities, saith the Preacher, vanity of vanities; all is vanity.

 What profit hath a man of all his labor which he taketh under the sun?

One generation passeth away, and another generation cometh: but the earth abideth forever.

 The sun also ariseth, and the sun goeth down, and hasteth to his place where he arose.

 The wind goeth toward the south, and turneth about unto the north; it whirleth about continually, and the wind returneth again according to his circuits.

All the rivers run into the sea; yet the sea is not full; unto the place from whence the rivers come, thither they return again.

 All things are full of labor; man cannot utter it: the eye is not satisfied with seeing, nor the ear filled with hearing.

The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be; and that which is done is that which shall be done: and there is no new thing under the sun.

Is there anything whereof it may be said, See, this is new? it hath been already of old time, which was before us