Abigail (33 page)

Three months later, Abigail sat in the shade of the family courtyard, waiting for David’s evening visit. She cradled a protective hand over her slightly bulging middle, longing to feel the babe move beneath her hand. The two weeks David had kept her in his chambers had produced the child she’d longed for, though the pregnancy had already taken its toll. She prayed the babe wouldn’t suffer as she had with sickness and a certain weakness that left her limp in the summer heat.

Servants hovered nearby, wielding palm fronds to cool the air, and her maid Rosah rinsed a cloth in water to place across the back of her neck, to keep her from overheating. She had missed the last several of David’s visits, but tonight she longed to see him again, to hope perhaps he might call for her to spend time with him.

The courtyard buzzed with the voices of David’s other wives. Besides Ahinoam and Maacah—who was rumored to be with child now as well—in the past three months he had added Haggith, Abital, and Eglah to their ranks. Each wife had barely finished her wedding week when another wedding took place, adding another wife to contend with, to vie for David’s affections. The situation left Abigail listless and depressed on those days when the child already sapped her strength.

She sighed, shooing a fly away from her face as she forced her jealousies into submission. She looked toward the door where David’s guard Benaiah now appeared, preceding David’s approach. She straightened the jeweled headpiece, a gift David had given her to wear at his coronation, making sure the sapphire stone lay evenly in the center of her forehead.

“Do I look all right?” she whispered to Rosah, who hovered ever close. The young girl was approaching marriageable age, a lovely girl with hair the color of almond husks and eyes so dark and large they would surely captivate many a man. Hopefully not Abigail’s husband. She stifled the rueful thought. Was she becoming cynical?

“You look beautiful as always, my lady.” Rosah bent to turn the fold of the blue robe Abigail wore, smoothing the lines. “The king is here,” she whispered, and turned to face the entrance. Abigail did not miss the look of excitement in the girl’s eyes, making her wonder if her previous thoughts were not far off.

David strode into the courtyard, several servants trailing behind. He approached Ahinoam first, taking young Amnon from her arms. He held the boy against his shoulder, bouncing him gently but looking uneasy and anxious at the child’s piercing cries. Moments later he handed the boy to his nurse who stood near Ahinoam, spoke a few words to his wife, and moved to Abigail.

His smile was nearly her undoing, and she couldn’t stop the immediate, sudden longing for him. Amnon’s cries continued, and David narrowed his eyes, clearly irritated by the sound. Was he such a stranger to his own son that the child would wail on sight of him?

David summoned the women’s servant Hannah and spoke something in her ear. The woman nodded and crossed the court to the place near Ahinoam’s room.

“I will not leave. I have as much a right to be with my husband as anyone else, and more so as I am the only one who has borne him a son.” Ahinoam’s shrill voice made Amnon’s wailing rise in pitch. Abigail winced at the sound, watching a scowl cross David’s face.

“The king merely asks that your nurse calm the child or take him someplace else. The boy is making it impossible for the king to speak with his other wives.” Hannah spoke loudly enough that the words carried to David and Abigail, who sat several cubits away near a spreading olive tree.

“Maybe the king needs to stop taking other wives and spend some decent time with the one who has given him an heir. His son doesn’t even know him. He wouldn’t wail so if he did.”

Abigail’s eyes went wide at the venomous words, words she’d never expected to hear from Ahinoam’s lips. But words similar to those she had thought just the same. David did not seem impressed, and if his deepening scowl were any indication, he was close to losing his temper or leaving altogether.

Impulsively she placed a hand on his arm. “Please don’t go, my lord.”

He swung his gaze from Ahinoam to her, the lines around his eyes softening and his smile returning. “I’m not leaving, beloved. But the babe needs tending, and Ahinoam should learn to curb her tongue.” He clapped his hands together. Benaiah hurried to his side.

David exchanged a look with Benaiah, and the guard nodded once, then moved toward Ahinoam. Moments later, Ahinoam’s nurse took the still-wailing Amnon toward Ahinoam’s apartment, and Benaiah held Ahinoam by the arm to escort her from the courtyard.

“No! He can’t do this to me. He never calls for me, never gives me more than a few moments. He can’t—”

“He can and he will, mistress. Now either you can leave quietly or I will forcibly remove you.” Benaiah’s deep voice carried across the court, sending a prickle of fear through Abigail. Was this how David had determined to handle his multiple wives—cow them into submission? Was there no recourse, no ability to confront his excesses, no chance to share the concerns of their hearts? Would he relegate them all to their rooms and forbid them to speak?

She looked at her husband, an unnamed fear working through her. Nabal had been controlling, cruel, mean-spirited, and abusive physically and emotionally. David had promised he would never hurt her, but wasn’t he equally controlling and cruel in a different sort of way? What could possibly have made him think that a wife could subsist on only a few moments of his time and go quietly to her rooms so he could see the next wife?

A hollow feeling settled in her heart, and she wondered what fate awaited her and her child in this place. Would David grow impatient with his child’s cries? Would he confine them to a place far from him?

“How are you feeling, beloved?” David’s question snapped her thoughts to the present, bringing them into clearer focus. His smile was trained wholly on her. The irritation around his mouth and eyes was gone, and his attention was hers.

She drew in a breath, trying to block out what she had just witnessed. She forced herself to mask the apprehension and concern drawing her up short. “I am well, my lord. Thank you for asking. The child has drained less energy today.”

He touched her arm, then his fingers traveled to the secret place where the child lay. “Does it move yet?” His look of wonder reminded her of a little boy, and she couldn’t stop the amusement it sparked inside of her.

“Not yet. Though I have coaxed him often enough.” She smiled, her longing for her husband rising again. Try as she might, she couldn’t stop loving this man, even through the pain of sharing him.

“Perhaps if I try.” He winked at her and moved his hand slowly in a circular motion over her middle, sending pinpricks of delight through her and raising her emotions to new heights. Something stirred inside her, the slightest flutter, the first sign of movement.

She placed her hand over his as she bent close to his ear. “I felt something.” Was it simply joy and desire at his touch? Or did the babe recognize the tender love of his father? “There it is again!”

His hand stilled, as though waiting to feel it too, but the kick was too gentle, meant for her alone.

“In time I will share your joy,” he said, moving his hand to her shoulder. He took her in his arms and kissed her. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, my love.” He touched a finger to her nose and backed away. “Rest well tonight. I will see you again tomorrow.” With that, he stood, nodded his farewell, and moved across the court to where Maacah sat outside her rooms.

He would make the rounds, going from first wife to sixth, giving them all a few moments of his precious time—the only glimpse they would have of him. The rest of his day would be taken up with military strategy meetings with his mighty men, political discussions with his advisors, and interviews with men coming to seek judgment over one issue or another. His life was planned for him from the break of dawn to the setting sun. Even then, after his visit to the family courtyard when he had chosen a wife to join him in his chambers, the time was not his own but was devoted to pleasing whichever wife he had called. Some nights no one was summoned, though each one of them would spend hours grooming themselves in hopes of being picked.

She glanced across the court where Maacah sat in her seductive pose. She was unable to stop the knifelike pain that struck her as David laughed at something Maacah had said. Abigail looked away, wishing she could wipe the beguiling smile from the woman’s haughty face. But as the moments ticked past, her curiosity would not allow her to ignore her husband, even if it meant seeing him interact with another wife. But when she saw David’s hand moving in circles over Maacah’s middle—the same intimate gesture he had shared with her, as if to awaken Maacah’s child—she felt stung. The child of the spoiled princess of Geshur was not nearly far enough along for movement, which David should know from Ahinoam, if he was paying attention.

She stood, bile rising in the back of her throat as the moment of joy quickly shifted to pain. “Help me to bed, Rosah.” She stumbled forward, a hand over her mouth, begging her roiling stomach to lie still until she could make it to the seclusion of her rooms.

“Are you all right, my lady?” Rosah gripped her arm and steadied her as the two hurried to cross the stones of the court into the safety of Abigail’s chambers.

33

David smiled at Maacah, trying to remember why he had ever thought another wife would only complicate his life. This woman did add to his confusion at times, but she had a way about her and knew how to coax feelings from him that he didn’t know existed. Sometimes she carried a dark side, a sense of humor that bordered on that of a man, but he found the distinction intriguing, and the rest of her was by no means masculine.

Sometimes her boldness made him pause, as it did now as she grasped his hand and placed it over her belly, where she claimed his child grew. If she spoke the truth, the child would be too small to feel. Hadn’t it been only a few weeks since she had purified herself from her uncleanness, as he had made sure she knew to do when she joined his house? Foreign princess or not, his wife would keep the laws of Adonai. If Maacah carried his child, she could not have known for long.

He laughed as she moved his fingers beneath her palm in the same circular motion he had done with Abigail—of his own accord. Had she seen that exchange? He glanced to his left toward Abigail’s rooms in time to see Abigail place a hand over her mouth and hurry from the courtyard. He gauged the distance between the two women. Each one could definitely see what the other did. The court was not big enough for privacy. The house was not big enough for six wives.

He looked back at Maacah, trying to focus on her words, but he couldn’t get his mind off Abigail. Why had she rushed off like that? Was she ill again? The pregnancy had already caused her much distress. Would she lose the babe as she’d said her mother had often done? Would he lose Abigail in the process? He’d rarely lost a ewe in the throes of birth, but Abigail was not a sheep, and as much as he’d cared for his flock, he couldn’t bear to lose a wife. Especially not that one.

“If you like, my lord, I have some sweet cakes filled with pistachios and honey that I made just for you, a recipe from my people. Come to my chambers and I will feed them to you.” Maacah traced her finger along the side of his face, coaxing him to look at her again. “You are much distracted tonight, David. Let me warm your bed and you will have no more distractions.” Her coy smile made his blood rush quicker through his body. Desire filled him as she moved both hands to his face and slowly rubbed her fingers along his temples, soothing him.

But he had three more wives to see, and he should really check on Abigail to know what had caused her sudden change in mood. Though one look at Maacah, and he could guess. Abigail did not approve of his new wives and hated being one of six instead of one of two. The knowledge always carried with it a hint of guilt that she was right, but she should know by now that a king’s life was not always his own. She wanted peace as much as he did, and this way was far more pleasant than going to war. Then again . . .

He closed his eyes, momentarily accepting Maacah’s soothing ministrations, but concern over Abigail would not let him rest. He looked into Maacah’s dark, oriental eyes and then put his hands over hers to still their movement. He placed her hands in her lap and bent to kiss her, then stood quickly before she could protest. “I will see you tomorrow,” he said, suddenly hating that he’d caused the hurt in her eyes. He moved on to Haggith before she could snag him again, fighting a growing sense of disillusionment.

The sun had faded to the west and the family courtyard was bathed in shadows when David finally bid Eglah goodnight and walked back toward Abigail’s rooms. A sigh, deep and troubling, worked its way through him as he paused at Abigail’s threshold. He needed her, truth be told. She didn’t believe him when he said it, so he had stopped voicing the fact that he often wished he had married only her. Somehow that declaration only managed to distance them more, something he didn’t understand. Why did she think that she was the only one troubled by his many wives? Ahinoam nearly always frustrated him, and Maacah did not bring out his best qualities. He never felt the oneness of spirit with either of them—with any of his wives—that he did with Abigail. Abigail shared his love for Yahweh, his devotion to what was true and right.

He nodded to Benaiah, who moved to position himself inside Abigail’s small courtyard, near enough to guard and to be summoned. David knocked on the door. Though he told himself he had the right to enter unannounced, he didn’t use it. He waited a moment, then knocked again. Hurried footsteps sounded on the other side of the door, and Abigail’s young maid thrust it open out of breath.

She bowed low to the ground. “My lord the king! I . . . we . . . didn’t expect you.”

“Take me to your mistress.” He was suddenly tired of the formalities that surrounded his kingship.

“Yes, my lord.” She scrambled to her feet, her face flushed crimson, her large, dark eyes lit with excitement. “This way.” He knew the way, of course, but he allowed the girl to lead him. When they reached the door to Abigail’s chambers, he stopped.