The two women were silent, remembering the strangeness of the moment when Nitsevet lay panting, bloodied and racked with pain, looking from her newborn son to the peculiar man that strangely none had thought of dismissing from the birthing chamber. In that delirious, eccentric moment, there had been more. The seer had pressed close to the quivering mother, his eyes like glowing embers, and had said in a surprisingly quiet voice for Yahweh’s spokesman:

From your shame will come the shame of Israel’s enemies

From your dishonour, great praise

From his rejection he will be raised up

This is your covenant with Yahweh

In silence will come great joy

In patience, reward

And then he had suddenly left, leaving a faint unwashed smell to mingle with Nitsevet’s blood and sweat. As if saying, ‘I’ve nothing more to add so I’m leaving you to your human problems’. Leaving motherhood and the world to its mundane, earthy normality. Only then had the baby yelled his indignation at the departing seer. Nitsevet almost moaned out loud at the memory – she wasn’t sure if she had felt joy or terror at David’s birth.