Abigail (17 page)

He shook his head at the impossible thought, then strummed his lyre, his head bent over the strings. There was nothing to worry about. Besides, how many wives were considered “many”? Two should not be an issue.

He plucked another chord and looked up at the sound of men approaching. His mighty men and advisors took their seats around the fire pit, then stood as Abigail’s father, Judah, entered the circular area. Would her father approve? Would his daughter accept his offer so soon after her husband’s death? Though he’d waited two days to act, he didn’t have the luxury of giving her a month to mourn her husband—though it was doubtful she would mourn for a man like Nabal.

His hands stilled on the strings, and he motioned for Judah and Daniel to take the seats of honor beside him. He bent one knee to the ground, then bowed his head, facing Judah. Judah coughed as if embarrassed by David’s display of humility, but when David looked up, he saw only joy and pride in the man’s eyes.

“Judah, my father, I have heard that your daughter is now free to marry the man of her choosing, as she is no longer a daughter in her father’s house but a widow of means. Nevertheless, I seek your blessing, and should your daughter accept, I am willing to place my garment over her, to take her as my wife.” He bowed his head again in an act of submission, then looked up and waited.

“My lord, you do me great honor. I would be more than pleased to have my lord, the future king of Israel, as my son-in-law . . . if my Abigail agrees, of course.” Judah’s mouth held a humorous twist.

David courted a smile of his own. “Of course.” He turned to face Daniel, then thought better of it and addressed his nephew Asahel. “Take men with you and go to Abigail, Nabal’s widow, and tell her that David ben Jesse would like her to become his wife.” His gaze took in the rest of his men. “Any objections?” Every face held approval, but as he glanced beyond the group to the cave’s mouth, he glimpsed Ahinoam’s stricken look. He should have known this would not be easy for her. He should have told her first in private. And now it was too late.

Commotion brought his attention back to his men. Asahel stood, followed by four of David’s mighty men, and left the fire to do his bidding.

At their departure, Daniel approached him. “Why did you not want me to go with them, my lord? Abigail would be more comfortable with me there.”

David met Daniel’s disappointed gaze, then clapped the man on the back. “You might have persuaded her to say yes.”

“Isn’t that the point, my lord?”

David smiled. “Of course. But I want Abigail to come because she wants to, not because her brother convinced her.” He glanced beyond Daniel, catching sight of Ahinoam hurrying away from the women and into the cave she and David shared. “Please excuse me,” he said. He left the campfire and walked into the cave to try to somehow appease and comfort his wife.

19

Ahinoam turned at his approach and ran from him, deeper into the recesses of the cave. David watched her retreat, ruing the day he had taken her to wife, but as her sobs carried to him, he tucked his pride away and strode after her.

Lamplight cast grotesque shadows along the narrow passageway. Ahinoam normally shied away from coming here without him. She hated the caves more than he did. It was one of the very few things they agreed on. He had wanted to give her a fine palace and servants and jewels to adorn her hair, but all they had known since the day Joab had brought her to his camp was a life of uncertainty without a normal roof to protect them. He never should have married her.

The thought had troubled him more often than he could count, and at one time he had actually contemplated allowing her to return to her uncle’s house and be free to marry another. But a part of him couldn’t bear to give up what belonged to him. It would be like losing Michal all over again.

Ahinoam’s crying grew louder as he rounded a bend in the tunnel to where the cave widened into a large room. The place was deserted except for his wife, who now sat in a crumpled heap in a far corner where their provisions lay. The sight of her hair—the color of wet sand—and her luminous, liquid eyes filled him with compassion. She had known the day would come when he would take other wives, but she probably hadn’t expected it to come so soon. As long as he was a fugitive, he wasn’t yet king, so he was hers alone. And he would have been if not for Abigail. But Abigail’s wealth would help feed his men and their wives for years to come, if he could somehow manage to get the animals away from Maon. The trick would be figuring out how to hide thousands of sheep and goats from Saul’s eyes.

Ahinoam’s soft weeping brought his thoughts back into focus. Somehow he was going to have to convince her that this was a good thing, that despite having to share his time and attention, she would still have all the privileges of second wife of the king of Israel. Surely the promise of future riches and prestige should suffice.

He stepped closer until his shadow fell over her small frame. He bent low, kneeling at her side. She stilled at the touch of his hand on her shoulder. “Ahinoam, please, don’t weep.” He spoke softly as he’d done so often with an injured lamb, pulling her into his arms and stroking her hair. “I should have told you first. I’m sorry.”

He expected his words to appease her, but instead her sobs grew stronger, louder. He held her close, willing his impatience to stay in check. “It will be all right, my love.”

She hiccuped on a sob and pulled back, her look telling him his words couldn’t be farther from the truth. “How can you say such a thing? You told me I would never lose you, but now you are throwing me away for another without a thought as to how I feel.” She flung the words at him, and their barbs hit their intended mark, increasing his sense of guilt.

“I’m not throwing you away. I am just adding to my house, increasing my strength. Abigail’s inheritance will make the job of looking for food less of a chore. And one day you will both stand at my side when God fulfills His promises to me.” Saying so helped to convince his own doubting heart.

“You mean
if
God fulfills His promises to you. How do we know they are even true, David? For eight years you have been a fugitive from the king, and there is no sign of that ending. Maybe Samuel was wrong. Maybe you misunderstood him.” She spoke quietly, but the words thundered in his heart like a war drum. Hadn’t he wondered the same thing over and over again? He’d had such faith in the early days, but this woman had consistently whittled it down until he almost believed her.

Abigail had not agreed. Hadn’t she spoken of his coming rule as though she knew it to be true? His heart warmed to the thought, increasing his longing for his men to return with her. Would she come?

But it was Ahinoam he held at arm’s length, searching her gaze and seeing the root of bitterness beneath those dark, beguiling lashes. “I didn’t misunderstand the prophet, my love, but I will admit I don’t understand you. Every time I come to you, you doubt me or fear me or fear what will become of me. I need you to have faith, to believe in me, to believe in Yahweh. Your fear withers my spirit.”

She leaned back as though he had slapped her, pulling her arms around herself in a self-protective gesture. “I only fear what will become of us because you keep leading us to places Saul can find us.” She looked away, avoiding eye contact, and scooted farther from him into a corner like a startled doe.

He released a weary sigh, frustrated. How was he supposed to get through to her? Nothing he said or did seemed to make any difference. She was beautiful in form but not in spirit. He could share none of his heart with her. The realization confirmed what he’d been pondering for months, and with it came the satisfaction that in Abigail he was making a wise choice.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Ahinoam. I trust that in the coming days you can have more faith in me than you exhibit now.” He stood and looked down on her. “If Abigail accepts my proposal of marriage, she will be joining us. See to it that you make her feel welcome. I will not tolerate animosity between my wives.”

The look she gave him told him he wasn’t likely to get what he requested.

Abigail wandered from room to room, feeling as though the vast estate would swallow her whole. Nabal’s presence, while not something she enjoyed, still gave a certain purpose and life to the house that was now sorely lacking. Even during his illness there had been work to do and reason to do it. Now, after only three days without him, she walked about wondering what next.
Oh, Adonai
,
what shall I do?

She paused at the audience chamber where Nabal had so often sat convening with neighbors or entertaining guests, the place where he’d displayed such self-importance. For what? All had come to naught with his death. His wealth would go to another, not even to his own son.

The thought filled her with an unexpected sadness. She pressed a hand to her middle where a child would never lie, allowing the melancholy to seep into her heart. What would happen to her? Perhaps she should have taken that shepherd’s offer of marriage, though the very idea was enough to make her physically ill. Besides, she didn’t need a man to survive any longer. Nabal’s wealth was security enough.

She moved away from the ornate room, turning her back on the oriental tapestries and carved cedarwood furnishings. The expense of the place could have rivaled the king’s palace. Would David find any of it useful?

Servants moved around her, going about their normal tasks as she had commanded them, but with an air of peace the household had never known before. She should find the atmosphere comforting, but thoughts of her family, of David, kept stealing her focus. She had sent word about Nabal’s death to Daniel three days ago. Why had she heard nothing from him? Her servants had returned from delivering her message, so she knew David’s men had heard the news. Surely Daniel would come to comfort her, to bring Mama and Abba, even if he’d been wrong about David.

Worry niggled the muscles along her shoulders. Was it wrong to want David to do as Daniel had suggested? He had already married two other women, though the king’s daughter Michal now belonged to someone else. If Abigail joined their ranks, she knew she would not be the last of David’s wives. Her only hope would be to bear a son, someone to love her when David could not. But she’d already proven with Nabal how uncertain such a hope could be.

Frustrated with herself, Abigail walked to the roof and examined the weavers as their hands worked the loom. The garments would bring a goodly sum in the marketplace, as Nabal’s wool was some of the finest in Judea. She could use the money to help some of the poor in Carmel and Maon and increase the wages of Nabal’s servants.

She moved to her spindle, which had sat gathering dust in a corner since Nabal had taken ill. She must stop thinking about the future. Each day had enough trouble of its own, so why was she borrowing trouble from tomorrow? She had a household to oversee and plenty to do . . . but a deep longing for her family brought the sting of tears to her eyes. She’d been true to her word and shed no tears for Nabal, but at night when no one was looking, she could not help the tears that came unbidden for herself.

She swiped them away now, clenching her jaw, then sat on a low stool and picked up the spindle. The women gossiped as they worked the loom, and she smiled at their occasional glances her way. When the sun had risen halfway to the sky, Zahara rushed up the steps, out of breath, her hair coming loose from her headdress.

“My lady, some men from David are here to see you.”

Abigail’s hands stilled even as her heart picked up its pace. David had sent men? Not her father or brother? She searched Zahara’s anxious gaze. “How many men? Is my brother among them?” She laid the spindle aside and stood, smoothing her robe as she walked toward her maid.

“There are five of them, and no, your brother is not among them.”

Abigail slowed her pace as she considered and discarded a handful of reasons why they had come. She stopped halfway to the audience chamber to rearrange her veil. “Is it straight? Do I look all right?”

“Of course you look all right. You are beautiful as always, my lady.” Zahara smoothed the finely woven head scarf over Abigail’s flowing hair, adjusting the ivory combs that held it in place at her temples. “There, that’s better.” She met Abigail’s gaze. “Don’t worry. Whatever they want, it will all work out. Didn’t your brother say David wanted you? So you will have a home after all.”

Abigail saw the glint of something akin to hope stir in Zahara’s eyes, and it occurred to her that perhaps Zahara would now want, even seek, a home of her own as well. “I suppose you will want to return to your people?”

Zahara lifted a shoulder in a slight shrug as though the thought had never occurred to her, but her expression was far from indifferent. The thought pained Abigail. She enjoyed Zahara’s company, despite the girl’s pagan roots and lack of faith in Adonai. “We will talk more of this after we hear what they have to say.” She nodded toward the audience chamber, indicating for Zahara to lead the way.

She stopped at the threshold for Zahara to announce her presence, scanning the five bearded men whose company filled only part of the spacious room. Their hair appeared freshly washed, their faces were clean, and their clothes smelled of travel more than sweat and sheep. This was an official greeting to demand such an attendance. She looked into their anxious faces, her gaze stopping with the burly man she had seen with Daniel the last time he had come to see her, the day Nabal’s heart had turned to stone.