She looked at David, watched his brow furrow and the lines tighten along his mouth. Would he introduce them to each other here? Now? The thought troubled her for the briefest moment, but in the next instant he turned to her, stood, and pulled her to him. “It’s time,” he whispered. “Come.” With one hand on the small of her back, he ushered her ahead of him, away from the fire pit where the dancing and music continued and into the shadowed lamplight of a cave. The slight pressure of his touch sent tingling warmth through her.
After several winding turns, the cave opened into a larger area where several clay lamps dispelled the closed-in feeling. A bed of soft skins lay in one corner, and a small loom and baskets of wool lay propped against a limestone wall in another.
“We normally share the area with some of my advisors, but tonight it belongs just to us.” He turned her to face him, his smile boyish and carefree. “I’m glad you came.”
“As am I.” She shivered as he traced a finger along her cheek, the image of the other woman slowly slipping from her mind.
He bent forward to kiss her. “Are you?” He kissed her again, his lips lingering this time.
“Of course.” She smiled, tempted to offer him a teasing quip, but she quickly squelched the thought, not sure she should take the risk. Nabal would have misunderstood and probably slapped her.
He held her at arm’s length, his eyes searching, probing. “You look worried.” He sounded troubled and the slightest bit annoyed.
“Do I? I don’t mean to be, it’s just . . .” She looked over his shoulder as he toyed with the edge of her veil. “It’s all happened so fast.” Was his other wife fearful of him, or did he just find the fears of women irritating?
He took a step back, studying her. “Would you prefer to wait? If I offend you—”
“You don’t offend me.” Heat filled her cheeks that the conversation had turned so intimate. “I want to . . . I . . . it’s just . . . I don’t exactly know you.” She looked at him then, saw the smile in his eyes.
“Of course not. But we have years to remedy that.” He ran gentle hands up and down her arms, then cupped them around her face and kissed her again. “You have nothing to fear from me, Abigail.” He pulled back, watching her as he smoothly tugged the veil from her head, then one by one released the seven combs that held her hair back, allowing her thick tresses to tumble to her shoulders. When the last one dropped to the earth at their feet, he tenderly entwined his fingers through the silken strands of her hair. “Let me show you my love,” he whispered, his breath soft against her ear.
She nodded, afraid to trust her voice, her heart beating an erratic rhythm. She worked to undo the knot in the belt at her waist, then stilled as his hands covered hers.
“You’re trembling.”
“Am I?”
“Yes.” He placed her hands at her sides and undid the knot, then slipped the robe from her shoulders. He tilted her chin so she would look at him again, his gaze searching.
“Your first husband—were you afraid of him?” His obvious concern warmed her heart. She nodded. “Did he give you reason to be?”
“Yes.” She held his gaze, allowing him a glimpse into her soul, trusting him more than she expected she would.
“And yet you defended him.”
“I meant to protect the others, and you.”
“You mean, you meant to protect the others from me.” Silence followed, and she saw mingled fire and regret in his eyes. “You should have let me kill him.”
“I couldn’t. I—”
“No, you are right. Yahweh had a better plan.” He smiled then and turned his head to one side to get a better look at her. “You can trust me, Abigail,” he said. “I will never hurt you.”
She searched his face and felt her heart yearning for him. “I want to believe you.” She lifted her hands and wound them around his neck, drawing herself into his embrace.
“Believe me, beloved.” The fire of longing smoldered in his dark eyes as he bent to kiss her again. “I always keep my promises.”
21
David half listened to his men as they discussed the latest sighting of Saul and argued over what to do next. He scooped porridge with a piece of flat bread from the common bowl he shared with his men, then tossed it into his mouth. His gaze traveled to Abigail, her busy hands refilling empty plates and replacing fresh skins of water at each man’s side. She hummed a soft tune, and when she glanced at him, a smile lit her eyes. He winked at her in return, silently thanking Yahweh for her presence in the camp and in his life. Somehow she had managed to bring peace to the place in the few weeks she’d been here. Even Ahinoam seemed to settle into an unexpected sort of acceptance. Some of the time.
He looked over the area as he sat back and licked the last drops of stew from his mouth, his gaze settling on Abigail’s maid Zahara. That one troubled him. Though Abigail seemed to think the girl was loyal, he had his doubts. Perhaps if they married her off, the wild look he glimpsed now and then would disappear. But the fact that she was a foreigner kept him from suggesting it to Abigail. That, and the uneasy feeling she gave him. Something in the way she watched the distant hills, as though she intended to run off at the first chance. Could she have been one of Saul’s spies? Abigail had indicated that Nabal himself had conspired with the Ziphites against him, so why not this foreigner?
She glanced in his direction, and a blush filled her cheeks. She’d caught his perusal. Did she think he was interested in her himself? He looked away, turning his attention back to his advisors to focus on their discussion.
“The scouts’ report is clear, David. Saul has made camp beside the road on the hill of Hakilah facing Jeshimon. What would you have us do? He’s too close.” Joab sipped from his water skin and grimaced. “What I wouldn’t give for a good skin of wine.”
His comment was met with approval around the circle of his closest advisors. Abigail’s store of wine remained on Nabal’s estate, and now was not the time to go looking for it. He could use a bit of mind-numbing drink himself right now. But not with Saul on his heels.
“I will go down to Saul and see for myself.” He looked at the thirty men who had proven the most valiant and loyal, then stood. He pointed to a newcomer, Ahimelech the Hittite, and four other men, Abishai, Joab, Benaiah, and Asahel. “Come.” He checked the sword at his side and left the group with the five men following.
They passed the wives of his advisors sitting in a separate group feeding their children. He would have moved on without a backward glance but couldn’t help the desire for another glimpse of Abigail. If the scouts’ reports were true and he found Saul this night, he might not return in safety.
The thought stopped him at the edge of the women’s circle.
He turned, searching for Abigail among them. She noticed his gaze, jumped up, and came to him.
“There is trouble, my lord?” She was already too good at reading his expressions.
He nodded. “Don’t look for me tonight.”
Disappointment flickered in her eyes for the slightest moment, but her reassuring touch on his arm and warm smile told him she understood. “I will pray unceasingly for Yahweh’s protection for you,” she whispered, standing on tiptoe to reach his ear.
He bent closer, tugged her to him, and kissed her soundly, not caring who witnessed his affection. “Thank you.” He smiled as he released her. “I will return.”
“As I would expect, my lord.”
He moved away with a flicker of guilt that he should bid farewell to Ahinoam. Irritated with his own sense of responsibility, he glanced back at the group of women and caught her looking at him. He motioned her forward, his guilt increasing at the look of relief on her face.
“Yes, my lord?”
“Don’t wait for me tonight. I won’t be back until morning.” He kissed her then, a soft touch to her lips. He was finding the desire he once had for her waning despite his effort to treat his wives as equals. Soon he might feel the same toward them both, though he
sensed that wasn’t true. Abigail was new and exciting and was nothing like Ahinoam, and he couldn’t imagine himself ever growing tired of her.
Ahinoam stepped back as he released her, and he moved away from the women to join his men, his mind shifting to the task at hand. Saul was out there, and they needed to find him and put an end to this.
But something told him the end was still a long time coming.
Abigail watched David stride down the path leading to the winding road that wove among the wilderness hills until he was a mere speck in her eyes. Her interest in and deep concern for him still took her by surprise. The feeling had been nonexistent in her marriage to Nabal. Was this love?
Her mother often spoke of her father in affectionate terms and had assured Abigail that such feelings came after the marriage—that beforehand a wife could not be expected to even know her husband, much less care for him. With Nabal there was too much fear for such feelings to exist, too much disrespect and disdain. But David . . .
“Don’t expect him to keep you his favorite.” The voice coming from behind startled her. She turned to look into Ahinoam’s scowling face. “When we first wed, he treated me the way he treats you now. Give him a few months, or perhaps if you’re fortunate, a year or two, but soon he’ll meet someone new, and then you’ll be little more to him than an occasional concubine.” The words carried a brittle edge.
A handful of responses, unkind, even damaging, flew to her thoughts, but she squelched each one in turn. The haunting truth of it was that Ahinoam was probably right. When David took the throne as king, other women would vie for his affection, and when war did not conquer their enemies, peace treaties would be linked to marriage contracts. She’d always known it, but the reminder so soon after her marriage left her unsettled, uncertain, and suddenly wondering if she’d made the right decision.
“I’m sure you are right, Ahinoam. David will one day be king, and kings have many wives. We must remember that and support each other. You and I have the unique privilege of knowing David now during the waiting years. We may not be his favorites someday, but we will share memories the others will have missed.” The unsettled feeling grew, a heavy weight in her middle, despite her brave words. Sharing David with one other wife would be hard enough, but more than one? How would she bear it?
Her thoughts churning, she forced her mind back to Ahinoam and offered her what she hoped was a kind smile to put her rival’s mind at ease. She would need this woman to befriend her in days to come. Somehow she must learn to share David with her and help her to see that she was not Ahinoam’s enemy. “I would be your friend, Ahinoam, if you will have me.”
Ahinoam’s gaze met hers, and Abigail caught a glimpse of her thoughts—a mix of anger and fear. At last Ahinoam shook her head, her scowl deepening. “You are only accepted because your family got in good with David, but don’t forget, I’m the first wife here. Don’t go trying to usurp my place.” She took two steps back and crossed her arms. “If you want my friendship”—the word came out tinged in sarcasm—“give me my husband. Your bridal week is up; it is time you share him.” She turned and stalked off, leaving Abigail staring after her.
Moonlight created dancing shadows over the hill of Hakilah where Saul and three thousand soldiers spread out on the ground near the road.
“Saul’s standard is in the middle of the camp, in the dip in the earth, with Abner’s beside it,” Abishai said at David’s side. Ahimelech the Hittite crouched with them beneath a terebinth tree at the top of the hill overlooking the encampment.
David ducked from the branches and stepped away from the edge to avoid being seen by those below. Abishai and Ahimelech followed, joining Joab, Benaiah, and Asahel, who came from other lookout places along the cliff. “Who will go down with me to Saul in the camp?” He looked from Abishai to Ahimelech, gauging the reaction in each man’s eyes. He would leave the others above, to watch their backs.
“I will go down with you.” Abishai spoke first, his hand on the hilt of his sword and his expression eager. Ahimelech took a step back as though relieved that Abishai had volunteered. “Good, let’s go.” David backtracked to the winding path, picking his way slowly down the mountain toward the base of the hill. They stopped at the entrance where sentries should have been standing watch. But there was no sign of any guard stirring or safeguarding the king’s men.
“What now?” Abishai whispered. David scanned the darkly cloaked bodies of Saul’s men stretched before them, lying in small rises and low crevices in the earth. Abishai’s voice, though a mere whisper, nearly echoed in the silence. An eerie feeling crept over David.
“Nothing moves,” he said as they set one foot in front of the other between the narrow rows of men.
Abishai nodded, his eyes wide. Not even the sound of a cricket interrupted the dark. The only noise was the faint crunch of their sandals in the dirt. An owl swooped above their heads, its distant flapping a muffled ripple in the night’s cool air.
David pulled his cloak closer to his neck, a shiver working through him. Yahweh was in this place, walked beside him in this valley of darkness. He could sense Him in the strange silence, the total lack of movement on the part of any soldier in the camp. Every man slept, their breathing soft, as though the army lived yet slept in Sheol, where the dead lay.
They walked on to the middle of the camp where Saul’s gold and blue standard stood beside his spear, waving its banner in the night breeze near his head. Abner’s red-crested insignia as captain of the guard was emblazoned on his cloak and shield, which lay beside him. But rather than guarding the man he had sworn to protect, Abner showed no signs of life other than soft snoring as he slept next to Saul. The king of Israel lay on his side, arms curled in a self-protective position, and his water jug rested at his feet.
David looked down at the man who had made his life miserable for the past nine years, expecting to feel anger, even hatred. But his heart held only pity.
“David.” Abishai touched his shoulder and leaned close. “Today God has delivered your enemy into your hands. Now let me pin him to the ground with one thrust of my spear. I won’t have to strike him twice.”
David looked into Abishai’s eager eyes. He stood poised, one hand closed over the hilt of Saul’s spear. How often had David jumped out of the path of that blade when the king had thrown it at him in a fit of rage? In one thrust Abishai could put an end to David’s fugitive life, allowing him to pursue the dreams God had promised. The temptation to do just that rushed him like an enemy solider in battle.
Abishai lifted the heavy spear with ease, waiting for David’s word.
O Adonai, if only You would let me do this! How long, Lord? Will You forget me forever? The thought had come to him far too often of late. One day this man who lay so helpless now would surely take David’s life if he allowed him to live, proving Ahinoam right and giving breath to his own faithless fears.
He lifted his gaze heavenward, his heart yearning for closure, for action, for hope. How long, Adonai? But he knew that whether God kept His promise sooner or later, killing Saul was not part of His answer.
“Don’t destroy him!” He looked into Abishai’s bewildered face, knowing his nephew would never understand. “Who can lay a hand on Adonai’s anointed and be guiltless?” He searched for words to explain himself. “As the Lord lives, Adonai Himself shall strike him. Either his time will come and he will die, or he will go into battle and perish. But the Lord forbid that I should lay a hand on Adonai’s anointed.” He released a breath as Abishai lowered the spear back to the earth and loosened his grip. “Now get the spear and the water jug that are near his head, and let’s go.”
David picked his way back through the camp and climbed the hill, Abishai at his back, his nephew’s silent disapproval weighting the air around them. David pressed on, ignoring the unspoken reprimand, and relief filled him as they joined the others.
As dawn turned the sky from gray to a mingled array of yellow, rose, and blue, David stepped f
rom under the terebinth tree to the edge of the cliff. Joab and Benaiah jumped up to join him, but he waved them back with his hand.
He looked down at the stirring soldiers, memories of once fighting beside them in battle filling his thoughts. He tried to accept the fact that most of them had turned against him and thought him a traitor now. Would he be able to regain their trust and goodwill when God handed him the kingdom? If God handed him the kingdom. Had he imagined the promise? Had Samuel been wrong?
Shoving his melancholy thoughts aside, David drew in a breath for courage, then cupped his hands around his mouth. “Aren’t you going to answer me, Abner?” His voice carried below, echoing in the valley floor. The men looked toward the hills as though trying to determine the source of the sound.
“Who are you who calls to the king?” Abner’s turban carried the telltale red sash, making him visible to David even from the distance. Not exactly a wise move in a true battle, as it made him a living target. But the general wasn’t likely to care what this upstart young rival thought, even if he did once grudgingly appreciate his expertise in times of war.
“You are a man, aren’t you? And who is like you in Israel? Why didn’t you guard your lord the king? Someone came to destroy your lord the king. What you have done is not good. As Adonai lives, you and your men deserve to die, because you did not guard your master, Adonai’s anointed.” He motioned for Abishai to bring the spear and water jug. “Lift them high,” he whispered, then turned back to Abner. “Where are the king’s spear and water jug that were near his head?”
David caught sight of a man moving toward Abner, his gold crown shining in the sun’s ever-brightening rays. “Is that your voice, David my son?”
David’s stomach did an uncomfortable turn at Saul’s tender tone. Too many memories accompanied this man, thoughts of Jonathan and Michal, times of joy and acceptance back when David was young, his future bright.
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