This revolt, mounted by my own flesh and blood, forces me to consider my friends, advisors and military personnel with a degree of caution, and wonder who amongst them is a friend, and who—a foe. Before taking a risk and reaching out to any of them I must get a sense of their level of support for me. Are they devoted to my cause, which is to make this country not only strong but also stable? In my house, the House of David, there should be a peaceful transition of power from one generation to the next.
I send messages to a handful of people, calling them to meet me under the oak tree, on the other side of the ravine. Then I head in that direction with my wives. When we finally get there by the end of the day I note that Bathsheba has blisters on her heels. She is wincing in pain, as do the others. Back in the palace, where we used to walk on the softest of rugs, our soles have softened. Spoiled by luxury, so have our souls. To survive this winter in the wilderness, body and spirit must harden.
Can we do it? God knows.