Abigail (23 page)

“But the Lord said you would replace Saul as king, so if one of you dies, it will be Saul, not you.” She knew in her heart it was so. It had to be.

“Pray you are right.” He kissed her again, then released her. “I must go.”

“My lord, there is one thing I must tell you before you leave.” She wondered at her own wisdom in light of his irritated look.

“I have to go, Abigail. Is it truly important?” He moved toward the door but paused at the threshold.

She held his gaze, too late to back down now. “I think so.” If she didn’t tell him, he would wonder why she’d kept it from him.

“Tell me quickly.”

She followed him as he walked through the house toward the courtyard where his men waited. “My maid Zahara is missing. It appears she has taken her pallet and few belongings and left Ziklag. I’ve looked for her everywhere, but she is gone.”

He stopped near the ovens where her mother and Talya hurriedly snatched hot loaves from the stones and shoved them into baskets for the donkeys to carry. “When did this happen?” His expression clouded, his brows drawn together in a scowl.

“I discovered it this morning.”

He rubbed his chin, then scanned the courtyard. Benaiah, Joab, Abishai, and Asahel stood in the street outside the court beside donkeys, engrossed in some private discussion, while Daniel stood nearby, holding Micah and Talya in his arms. David took two steps toward his nephews, then turned back to her. “There is nothing I can do about it now. She has apparently run off, and that’s probably a good thing. I never trusted her.” He touched her shoulder. “If she returns, do not accept her back unless she has a plausible explanation for her abandonment. Have one of the young men detain her until I return. Otherwise, let her go. May God grant her whatever she deserves.” He bent to kiss her cheek, then turned toward his men without a backward glance.

24

Rank after rank of Philistine soldiers passed by King Achish where he sat on a large rock overlooking the plains of Aphek, their red-feathered helmets moving in the warm afternoon breeze, their proud backs straight, their faces like hardened stone. David stood with his men at the rear of the crowd, his gut twisting, his mind testing and discarding any number of possible ways to escape his fate of having to go to battle against his own people. He found none.

Benaiah moved closer, but even the sight of his burly guard did nothing to assuage the deep-rooted feeling of unease sifting through him. This was surely God’s hand of judgment on him for bringing his men out of Israel. He should never have come, never have trusted a foreign power above his God for protection.

O sovereign Adonai, have mercy on me!

The prayer had turned to a plea the moment Achish insisted to his face that he and his men would surely accompany the Philistines into this ill-timed battle. The moment he’d heard his own lips utter compliance, however vague he’d tried to be, guilt and fear had become his constant companions.

They nudged him now as Benaiah came to stand at his side. The only sign of the man’s own agitation was the muscle ticking along his right eye. “They number in the tens of thousands,” he said, his voice low.

Tension knotted the muscles in David’s neck. He folded his arms over his chest and nodded. “Yes. A formidable foe. Saul is ill prepared.” The thought should comfort him, for if Saul perished in battle, the way would be clear for him to ascend the throne. Jonathan would see to it. But not if David’s own hand carried a sword to war against Israel. The people would never accept him.

“We could help him.”

David looked at his guard and lifted a brow. “You’re suggesting we go into battle with the Philistines and then turn against them to help Israel?”

Benaiah shrugged and met David’s gaze. “Have you thought of a better way to redeem ourselves out of this situation?”

David glanced again at the Philistine ranks, noting the blue and red robes setting apart the princes who governed the outlying Philistine cities. They bowed low before King Achish, then gathered in a group to speak with him. Angry shouts in a tongue he didn’t understand drifted across the compound, with Achish’s voice drowned out by the Philistine lords. Moments later, the leaders followed Achish into his tent.

David’s men huddled into their own tents or gathered at several fires at the edges of the Philistine encampment. A commotion caught his attention as Asahel broke through the Philistine ranks and rushed to his side.

“What did you learn?” David’s nephew was quick and unobtrusive, his plain features and agile motion allowing him to move like a fox, virtually unnoticed among the enemy soldiers.

“Achish’s army generals do not take kindly to our presence. They are demanding we leave, while Achish is insisting we stay.” Asahel straightened the belt at his waist and lifted somber brown eyes to David, reminding him of Jonathan. He couldn’t bear to war against the best friend he’d ever known.

“Let us pray Achish loses the argument,” Benaiah whispered as Joab and Abishai joined them.

“The men are beginning to grumble,” Joab said, stepping up to David. He faced him down, his hawklike gaze boring through David. “If you try to make them go through with this, you may find yourself at the end of one of their swords.”

“The Philistines are murmuring as well. They remember the virgins’ song, ‘Saul has slain his thousands, and David his ten thousands.’ ” Asahel glanced around as though fearing the enemy might overhear.

“I suspect they liked it about as well as Saul did.” David kneaded the back of his neck and looked first toward the Philistine tents, then behind him at his six hundred men. “How many are disloyal?”

“To you or to Israel?” Joab’s sarcasm matched his bitter gaze.

“To me.” If they would all turn on him in battle, he must do as Benaiah had suggested and turn this thing around to bring down destruction on Philistine heads.

Joab took a step back and glanced in the direction of the men. “Right now only a handful is grumbling, but such talk will quickly spread if you do not reassure them.”

Even a handful could ignite flames to the dry brush of fear that David could feel among his men, despite the stoic acts they put on as they passed in front of the Philistine lords. He turned to the four men facing him. “Pass the word among the troops. If Achish does indeed call us into battle against Saul, we will go. When the battle rages, whose side they fight on will be up to them. As for me, I will not lift my hand against Adonai’s anointed.” Let Achish think what he wanted in the meantime.

At his word, the men dispersed to do his bidding, while David went into his tent, fell on his face, and prayed.

Abigail awoke with a start, her heart beating with the memory of the wild dream she couldn’t shake, the nightmare she had lived with since David went off to follow the Philistines. Something terrible was going to happen, something beyond her ability to control. Would David die as Ahinoam had feared?

From the next room, the sound of Ahinoam retching over a clay pot didn’t help to ease her racing heart. The woman had been sick every morning for two weeks now, and Abigail knew Ahinoam’s illness had nothing to do with fear. She had to be carrying David’s child. Nothing else made sense.

Disheartened by the thought, Abigail forced herself up from her mat and blinked hard, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Ahinoam stumbled through the arch of the door, sank to her own mat on the floor near Abigail’s, and leaned her head against the limestone wall. They’d taken to sharing a room after David left and Zahara fled, drawing small comfort from each other’s presence. How long did it take to win a battle?

She looked at Ahinoam as she donned a fresh tunic and tightened the belt of her robe. She knew the answer. Sometimes David had been gone for a month or more at a time, something she thought she’d gotten used to. Until now.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” Abigail asked. It was time they discussed Ahinoam’s condition. As much as Abigail longed to bless David with a son, apparently Ahinoam would have that privilege first. She steeled herself for the answer as she handed Ahinoam a robe. “Well?”

“It’s obvious, isn’t it? I am with child.” Ahinoam’s face drained of color, her once haughty expression replaced with worry. “What if David dies and never knows?”

“He’s not going to die.” Irritation tickled her spine. She was unwilling to admit how close Ahinoam’s thoughts came to her own of late. “You must stop thinking like this. David is Adonai’s anointed. Nothing will happen to him.” It was true. She must believe it.

Ahinoam bit her lower lip while sweat beaded her forehead. Abigail could see why David had taken her to wife. She was lovely, with hair the color of wheat and eyes the color of husked almonds, soft and round as a doe’s. When she wasn’t whining or complaining, her laughter could be infectious.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t worry. I don’t want to harm the child.”

Yes, the child. David’s firstborn. The thought stung, bringing Abigail’s own longing for a son to the forefront again.

Shouts from the direction of the city gate interrupted her straying thoughts. Perhaps a messenger, or even David and his men returning. Her father would be on watch now along with a handful of young boys, the few David had left to guard the women. But if David had returned, the guard at the tower would have blown the shofar. Something was amiss.

“I’m going to the gate. Perhaps another quarrel has erupted.” If the shouts had to do with the women and their constant quarrels, perhaps she could help. At least the women listened to her most of the time.

“I’ll come in a few moments. I don’t think I can stand yet.”

“Take your time. Eat some figs or drink some goat’s milk when your stomach settles. I can handle the women.” She nodded and smiled at Ahinoam, hoping the jealous twinge she felt did not come through her tone or expression. David would want her to care for Ahinoam, to keep his child safe.

She shoved the thoughts aside and moved through the house to the courtyard. She stopped, her stomach tightening and then plunging at the sight of men on horseback wearing the red and black robes of foreign Bedouins and riding straight for her. In the distance, the sound of screaming women and crying children reached her ears. She turned and looked down the dirt road to the houses of her neighbors, catching the terror-stricken faces of the women around her and hearing the wild, hysterical screaming as the foreigners tossed the wives of David’s men over the backs of their mounts like sacks of grain.

Leather whips cracked against the backs of resistant women. Mothers strained against their captors, clawing at air and desperately reaching for their children. The cries echoed amid the screams as boys and girls were dragged from the houses and thrown into separate wooden carts, whimpering for their mothers.

Abba!
Her father was on guard at the gate. Had they killed him in order to enter? The thought sickened her even further, and hot tears filled her throat. She swallowed them down.

Across the street, she glimpsed a handful of young boys sitting on low branches of oak trees and on the roofs of houses, whipping stones from their slings at the intruders. Hope that they might do some good sprang up but then died moments later as burly soldiers swung heavy whips high enough into the trees to force the boys down. Those on rooftops ran from house to house before they were caught and tossed into the carts with the rest of the children, their wrists and feet bound.

Abigail’s throat ached and her body shook as she fought an intense urge to weep. The dream—this was her nightmare, not David’s. God had been warning her, and now here she stood, helpless to stop them. Wild-eyed Bedouins grabbed her mother, Talya, and Micah and shoved them into an already full cart. Joab’s wife Marta, Abishai’s wife Deborah, and Ahinoam were each tossed up to a waiting soldier and made to ride in front of groping men on the backs of pawing horses.

Oh, Adonai
,
protect David’s child.
God forgive her, she didn’t feel so fiercely about the mother, but David would not want to lose a son.

The lead horseman reined in his mount at her side. The man hopped down, then reached a hand up to the woman sitting behind him and swung her to the ground.

Abigail studied the man, then the woman, who was dressed in finer linen garments of brightly woven threads. Jewels adorned her headdress, and her painted eyes and lips gave her an exotic look. Abigail glanced away for the briefest moment, then looked back, a spark of recognition causing her stomach to clench with dread she could not escape.

Zahara.

Clammy fear took hold of her as the burly Bedouin leader who stood beside Zahara walked toward her, turning a whip over in his hand. She fell to her knees and buried her face in the dust. She’d seen that look before. From Nabal.

An arm reached down and jerked her to her feet. “You are the Israelite’s wife.” His heavy accent made him hard to understand, but Abigail caught enough to discern that the Israelite he spoke of must be David.

“Yes.” She swallowed, barely able to choke out the word.

He snarled, leaning toward her until she could smell his stale breath and feel the heat in his gaze. “You will come.” He tucked the whip into his belt, and before she could respond, he lifted her over his shoulder. Wisdom told her that to resist would be foolish.