She watched for some sign that he understood, but the fear never left his face. “It is possible, my lord, that you are about to go the way of all the earth. Or perhaps Adonai in His great mercy will heal you and allow you to live. I hope, my lord, that whatever happens, you will seek His forgiveness for the deeds you have done, that He might yet have mercy on your soul.” The words pushed forth from her lips unplanned, but as she had that day when she spoke to David, she could not seem to stop them, to hold back the urgent need to be heard before it was too late.
She squeezed his hand but got no response. More tears fell unbidden, dampening her cheeks. She swiped them away, sniffing back the urge to weep.
“You must not trouble yourself with these things, mistress.” The physician put a hand to Nabal’s forehead, meeting Abigail’s gaze. “There was nothing else you could have done. Your words or actions did not do this to Nabal. El Elyon the Most High God Himself struck your master. It is the only explanation.”
He moved his hand to Nabal’s chest and leaned over him to listen. Soft raspy sounds came from Nabal’s throat, but a moment later they changed to a dry rattle. His chest heaved once, twice, and his stiff body lifted from the bed, then dropped again like a felled tree.
A collective gasp came from behind Abigail. She turned to see Zahara and three of her maids huddled near the door, eyes wide. She looked again at the physician who was making a thorough check of Nabal. At last their gazes met.
“He is dead, my lady.” The physician closed Nabal’s eyes one at a time, then stepped away to allow her maids to come and prepare the body for burial.
Abigail released her grip on Nabal’s cold fingers and sat back on her heels, staring at the man who had wooed her to want him but then controlled and mistreated her. She searched her heart for a sense of grief but found only relief instead. She was free of him at last.
The thought both comforted and terrified her. What would happen to her now? Even as a woman of means with a measure of independence, what good was her life without a husband and children? Who would care for her when she was old? Who would inherit the wealth Nabal had acquired if she never bore a son?
He would be willing to protect you, and I don’t think he meant that in a general sense. I think he wants to spread his garment over you, Abigail. Daniel’s words came back to her, swirling around her like a feast-day dance. She stood and surveyed the room.
“We will bury Nabal in the cave of his father and mother this afternoon.” She glanced at Zahara. “We can be ready by then, can we not?”
Zahara nodded. “Yes, my lady. We can.”
“Good. And send a runner to David’s camp to my father and brother to tell them Nabal is dead.” They should be told, and better that it come from her than to wait for a passing caravan to happen upon them with the news. Never mind that her heart picked up its pace at the thought of what this news would bring. Her brother would insist she join them, and then there was the matter of David . . .
She brushed the thought aside, frustrated with the traitorous bent of her heart. She must focus on what was expedient now for the funeral. Food would need to be prepared and professional mourners called. Nabal would be buried with all the kingly fanfare he felt he deserved. And she would show him respect despite the conflicting emotions that told her not to. But she would not shed another tear for his loss.
And she would not miss him.
David stood at the crest of the hill overlooking the Judean wilderness. The summer heat bore down on him, adding weight to his oppressive thoughts. They should move on to a better place. They’d already been in the area surrounding Maon for months, and if his spies were right, since the encounter with Abigail, the Ziphites had shown enough unrest to convince him Saul would soon be at his back door. He needed another secure location. But there was no place left where they hadn’t already been, and with the summer months coming fast upon them, all hope of vegetation and a steady water supply was slim.
Even now the sun’s scorching finger had turned the valleys a hazy brown. The few sheep and goats that provided milk for the children would need better grazing land, but to go east toward the Jordan or north toward Jezreel would put him amid towns and land where Saul could readily find him.
He rubbed the back of his neck as he took in the barren landscape, unable to keep his chest from lifting in a troubled sigh. They should have moved on days ago when the spies first brought their report of the men of Ziph, but a second report that Nabal had taken ill had kept him from acting. Wait and see, he’d told himself more than once. But after ten days, the waiting was making him nervous. They definitely needed to move on, but where? Israel had many caves and hidden dwellings, but David was certain he had found them all. And he was weary of them. They needed someplace new, someplace where Saul would not think to look, where they might find at least the illusion of peace.
He turned, irritated that his train of thought had led him no closer to a solution, and trudged the narrow path that went around the hill, back to his hideaway. Benaiah and Daniel met him as he entered the camp.
“Good news, my lord,” Benaiah said, matching David’s strides as he walked toward the mouth of the cave. “A runner has come from the widow Abigail.”
David stopped as Benaiah’s words registered. “Widow?” Dared he believe it?
Daniel stepped closer, his wide grin showing a dimple in one cheek and lightening his normally dark eyes. “Nabal is dead, David! The Lord has struck him for his abuse.”
David worked at hiding a smile, but it was no use. Laughter burst from him. “Praise be to Adonai, who has upheld my cause against Nabal for treating me with contempt. He has kept His servant from doing wrong and has brought Nabal’s wrongdoing down on his own head.” He slapped Daniel on the back and motioned for Daniel to follow him into the cave. “Summon your father for me.”
“Yes, my lord.” Smiling, Daniel hurried to do his bidding.
David’s nerves hadn’t been strung so tight since the first time Saul had hurled his spear in his direction. He shouldn’t be worried. It wasn’t like he had never sought a woman’s hand in marriage, but this one seemed different somehow. And the fact that he already had a wife had made him pause more than once. He knew the law. Kings weren’t supposed to have many wives so that their hearts would stay true to Yahweh. But he wasn’t a king yet, and no woman of his would ever lead his heart from the worship of his God.
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 Danie
l, 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.
Abigail (The Wives of King David Book #2): A Novel Page 12
