David Ascendant (Chronicles of the Nephilim Book 7)

by Brian Godawa

  Nabal knew exactly where this was going. He continued his sarcastic drawl, “What a privilege indeed is such peace. And what do I owe this son of Jesse for such unrequested protection?”

  Joab said, “May my lord find favor in your eyes. For a feast day is upon us. He only asks whatever food and drink you may spare for your servants and your son, David.”

  “My son, no less,” said Nabal. “And how many does this ‘son’ of mine employ in this protection business of his?”

  “We are six hundred.”

  Nabal’s countenance dropped. That was a lot of warriors. However, he had great trust in the two hundred mercenaries on his own payroll. They were mighty warriors as well, and they were itching for a chance to utilize the skills they had been trained and paid for. Besides, the mansion operated as a fortification, so it would not be a battlefield of one on one.

  Joab could see Nabal’s agitation, so he added, “We are accompanied by several prophets of Yahweh and a high priest.”

  Nabal thought, So he thinks he can pretend to be less hostile and more holy, does he? Nabal was not going to sit down and roll over for some young brigand’s attempted extortion propped up by religious justification. He was not going to just give over his hard earned wealth to a gang of thugs.

  Nabal hardened his stance and crowed, “Who is this ‘son of Jesse’ that he should demand of me such things? I did not ask him to ‘protect’ my shepherds or my land. But I do have a bodyguard I have hired to protect me.”

  Nabal’s guard drew closer to him in response.

  Abishai shook his head at the subtle threat. He could kill all twenty of these hired scrappers himself.

  Suddenly, a woman’s voice interrupted them all. “My lord, forgive my intrusion.”

  All eyes turned toward the most stunning woman any of them had seen in years, maybe in entire lifetimes. She wore a humble, hooded cloak of modesty, but it could not hide her radiant beauty, her thick red hair and piercing blue eyes.

  “Ahem, Abigail,” said Nabal, “should you not be cleaning out the sheep pen or some other duty?”

  “Forgive me, my lord, but I have finished that chore and I came to tell you, when I overheard your conversation here.”

  Abishai and Joab were mesmerized at her every word and movement. She was so beautiful.

  Abigail turned to Joab and Abishai, “Perhaps there is a third way out of this dilemma.”

  The brothers perked up with curiosity.

  Nabal turned sour with offense.

  “Would your lord, David, be willing to return my husband’s kindness with a vow of chaste behavior and the blessing of a sacrifice by the high priest?”

  Joab looked at Abishai who appeared to approve. But before he could respond, Nabal interrupted, “Please excuse my wife’s intrusion. She speaks out of line with impertinence.”

  Joab glanced at Abigail, who dropped her head in shame.

  Nabal continued, “Rather, ask your lord, ‘my son,’ if I should take the bread, water and meat out of the mouths of my servants who have earned it and give it to servants of those who have rebelled against their masters?”

  Abishai shot a surprised look at Joab, wondering how he would respond. This disgusting, fat pig with an undeserved exemplary wife knew exactly who David was after all, and was now accusing him of insurrection.

  Joab gritted his teeth. He knew this worm was not worthy of his wrath.

  He said, “Very well, my distinguished host. I will relay your message to my lord. Though I suspect your wife’s wise offer would be more acceptable.”

  He bowed. Nabal said, “My men will see you out to your horses.” Nabal’s twenty shadowed Joab and Abishai’s party to their exit.

  When they were alone, Nabal walked up to Abigail. She shrank back. She knew how he was going to respond. He was predictable. She never got used to it, but she knew what he was going to do.

  He reared back and punched her in the face with his fist. She fell to the floor. He would never bother to backhand her. That was too restrained. He wanted her to feel pain, not mere insult. His only grace was his unwillingness to use his ringed hand, for that would have ripped up her face and made her repugnant to have to look at every day.

  Since he was too fat to lean down for another hit, he merely kicked her twice in the ribs. Her arm was enough to shield her ribs, preventing the force from breaking any bones. He only bruised them, along with raising a welt on her arm.

  “How dare you treat me with such disrespect,” he hissed. “How many times do I have to tell you to keep your petty female mouth shut? Do I have to clamp it with a bit and bridle?”

  Nabal had so frequently gotten himself in trouble with his greedy arrogance that Abigail often found herself saving his business or his life with her unique ability to soothe the offended parties with gracious diplomacy. The irony was that if she had kept her mouth shut, he would be dead by now, cut down by one of the many he had provoked with such impunity. Unfortunately, it also served to incite his self-loathing even more to be upstaged by the inferior sex.

  “And another thing. What did you mean by demanding a vow of ‘chaste behavior?’ Were you mocking my impotence?”

  “No, my lord,” she pleaded, “I merely meant to protect our maidservants and the women of the town. Outlaws can be debauched in their conduct.”

  “Is that it? Are you turned on by their violence? You would like to be ravished by some strapping hard outlaw, wouldn’t you? Is that what you like?” He pulled out his leather belt.

  “Is that what you like?!” he yelled, and lashed her with it.

  “No, my lord,” she cried, trying unsuccessfully to protect her face from the stinging strap.

  The sad irony was that Nabal’s impotence was the fruit of his own debauched living and obesity, while Abigail had remained chaste. They had not had sex in years. She had even rebuffed several attempts by her male servants to satisfy her sexual needs. She wanted to honor her vows before Yahweh.

  He spewed, “And then that line about a sacrifice by the high priest! Your sanctimonious piety makes me want to puke. You are no more holy than any of the whores I have had. And I must say, they were far more desirable and satisfying than you ever were.”

  After he had become impotent, she had to turn her eyes from his pursuits of depravity with prostitutes in search of stimulation. She hated herself. No matter how untrue his accusations, his words nevertheless pummeled her worse than his fists. She had been given in an arranged marriage to the rich Nabal by her father, who had become mired in debt. Unfortunately, it was a world where a carefully weighed shekel counted more than love’s amorous desire.

  Her father’s debt was forgiven, but his betrayal of Abigail could not be. She sought to be an honorable wife in such a painfully unjust situation, but she could barely take it any more. The thought of taking her own life had recently become a comfort.

  He heaved with puffed up anger. “Get out of my sight.”

  They were the words she longed to hear. She got up and left his presence to dress her wounds.

  Chapter 48

  Mikael shadowed Saul on his journey back toward Gibeah from the wilderness of Maon where he had been hunting David. The archangel suspected Dagon, Asherah, and Ba’alzebul would be there in full force. He plotted a strategy of how he might withstand them. Humans were so unaware of the spiritual warfare in heaven that often accompanied the fleshly warfare on earth.

  Two hundred strong escorted Saul on horseback in his northward passage. Their route passed through the Hinnom Valley, called Gehinnom, on the southwestern outskirts of Jerusalem.

  Gehinnom was the territory of Molech.

  Mikael kept out of sight on his own steed, high on the ridge above the valley, shadowing Saul. He pulled ahead of the party to reconnoiter the road ahead. He saw several tophets below, some with bronze images of Molech, others without, but all with the burning remains of sacrificed children. Hideous black smoke and the stench of burning flesh filled his nostrils and made him nause
ous. It struck him as an odd coincidence that they would happen upon such an extensive display of mass slaughter at a time where he could do nothing to address it. His duty was to watch over Saul.

  Then Mikael suddenly realized that this atrocity was not happenstance. Human sacrifice empowered Molech. And Saul was within the very lair of the monstrous god of the underworld.

  Saul was galloping into a trap.

  Mikael raced ahead to the end of the valley where he knew a narrow pass opened up to a plain leading north toward Gibeah.

  It was the perfect location for an ambush.

  • • • • •

  The Maon forest stood a mile away from Nabal’s hilltop residence, on the outskirts of Carmel. David had been stewing all day over the response he had received from Nabal. Joab and Abishai had told him of the insulting rejection and accusation of extortion from the corpulent rich man.

  David did not like to think of himself as a common outlaw fleecing the innocent. How dare that fat slug make such accusations against God’s Chosen Seed. How dare he!

  David did not seek the Lord in prayer or with the ephod. He knew Nabal was right in his accusations of extortion. But he did not want to have to humble himself before such a proud and unworthy ingrate. It would only justify Nabal’s selfish cruelty and abuse of privilege upon which he had built his entire estate.

  David murmured to himself in a manner not unlike Saul’s mad rambling, “I have guarded all that this ungrateful swine owns, and nothing has been lost or taken by my men. And what do I receive for my kindness? He returns evil for good. No, this creature must be punished for his insolence. He is an enemy of Yahweh.”

  David opened the curtain of his tent and shouted, “Benaiah!”

  His captain was there in a moment. Benaiah could see David was ragged with bitterness and lack of sleep. His eyes were on fire.

  “Prepare for an evening raid. Have four hundred men strap on their swords and suit up.”

  Joab and Abishai were close by and had arrived as well. Benaiah, said curiously, “My lord?”

  David spit out, “By God, I am going to kill every male of this greedy Nabal’s household by morning.”

  Joab and Abishai had no qualms with any order of David’s. They were ready to obey.

  Benaiah was not so hasty. “Are you sure of this, David?”

  David looked at him with anger. “Are you now defying me as Nabal does?”

  The accusation offended Benaiah. “I am not defying you, my lord. But I am questioning you. Have you inquired of Yahweh? What does he advise?”

  “Benaiah,” said David with resolve, “prepare my horse and draw four hundred armed men to raid Nabal’s home.”

  Benaiah sighed with resignation. “We will be ready by moonrise.”

  David felt smugly confirmed, until Benaiah added, “Yahweh’s will be done.”

  That aggravated David, but he knew he could not criticize or scold Benaiah without incriminating himself in the process. Instead, he pushed it out of his mind. He was Yahweh’s Chosen Seed. His concern was for the injustice his own men experienced at the whim of this impudent Nabal.

  Yes, that was what he was concerned about.

  Chapter 49

  Mikael knelt on the precipice and looked down one hundred feet below into the narrow gorge. Saul and his company of two hundred would have to squeeze through it before continuing their rapid journey north to Gibeah, in order to face the Philistine forces arraying against his capital city.

  Saul’s forces were still minutes away from the gorge. Mikael had little time to figure out what ambush, if any, was planned by the despicable underworld deity Molech for the king of Israel.

  He spotted it.

  At the bottom of the canyon, a hundred feet inward, a cadre of twenty priests of Molech hid behind boulders, armed with bows and arrows.

  It struck Mikael as odd. Priests of Molech instead of soldiers? A mere twenty? Molech was not the sharpest tool in the workshop, but this strategy seemed below even Molech’s stupidity.

  Unless it was a diversion.

  Just as he realized that, he heard the sound of running behind him. He turned in time to see Molech bearing down on him in a mad dash.

  He tried to get up to face his adversary, but it was too late. The eight foot tall god hit him before Mikael could get his balance. He careened over the edge of the cliff.

  Mikael was robust and agile. As he fell, he threw out his hands. He caught himself on a ledge a mere ten feet below.

  He would not wait for the mole god to follow up his attack. Mikael used his muscular grip and sinewy legs to climb back up the ledge in seconds and bound back out onto the cliff top, ready for a fight.

  But he was not ready for what he found before him.

  Three gods stood beside Molech in battle position: Dagon with drawn sword, Asherah with javelin and shield, and Ba’alzebul with pummeling mace.

  Four gods against a lone archangel.

  He stood no chance.

  • • • • •

  David stopped with his four hundred warriors at the foot of the hill upon which Nabal’s home rested. They were ready to ascend the mount and reap vengeance on Nabal.

  A servant of the rich man’s wife approached them. He begged David’s indulgence to allow his master’s wife an audience.

  She came down the road on a donkey, followed by another servant in an onager-drawn wagon carrying cargo. She stopped and dismounted the donkey to approach David. He sat waiting atop his steed next to Benaiah, Joab, and Abishai.

  Joab nodded to David. She was the wife.

  David found her presence arresting. Even though cloaked in a nightly robe, he could see her flaming red hair in the moonlight and her piercing blue eyes when she stood before him.

  David wondered why Joab did not tell him of this vision of beauty that now knelt before him in humility. Probably because he knew it would cloud David’s thinking with curiosity. She had already begun to cloud his mind.

  He got down off his horse to stand before her. She fell at his feet in the dirt. “My lord,” she said, “allow me to speak.”

  “Please do,” he said, as if in a trance. It was strange how the woman’s beauty completely arrested David’s emotional faculties. He instantly forgot all the wrath that had driven him to this very spot. Her beauty affected his fury as his music had affected Saul’s madness.

  She looked up at him. “Place upon me alone the guilt of my husband Nabal and his folly. He is a worthless man. And as Yahweh lives, let all those who seek to do evil to my lord be as Nabal. You are free from bloodguilt should you choose to slay him. By my word, I believe this with all my soul. But I beg of you, please forgive the trespass of your servant. I have brought you a guilt offering.”

  She spoke with such breathless speed that David could not get a response in edgewise.

  “On my wagon are two hundred loaves of bread, skins of wine, prepared sheep, with parched grain and clusters of raisins, as well as cakes of figs. Please give them to your men to eat and drink. For you are Yahweh’s Chosen One. You fight Yahweh’s battles and there is no evil in you. You are in the care of Yahweh. And when Yahweh has done to you my lord, according to all the good he has spoken concerning you, and when he has appointed you prince over Israel, may my lord suffer no pangs of guilt or cause of grief for having shed any blood without cause. And please, I beg of you, when Yahweh has dealt well with you, please remember your servant, and have mercy upon me.”

  She suddenly stopped her string of words. She noticed that he was chuckling with amusement.

  David got out, “You are quite the talker, but you have not yet told me your name.”

  “My lord, I apologize,” she said. “I am Abigail, wife of Nabal of Maon. I am your servant.”

  “Well, Abigail. You both amuse me and amaze me.”

  Now, in the moonlight, he noticed that she had a black eye and a welt on her cheek. He decided to wait to address that.

  “How do you know of me? I pray not through
the agency of spies.”

  “Oh no, good sir. I have learned from the visitation of Samuel the Seer to this city.”

  “I thank Yahweh he tilled the soil for my reception.”

  “It was truly saddening news to hear he had died within this last moon.”

  David froze in shock. “Samuel is dead?”

  “You have not heard? They buried him in Ramah. I am truly sorry to bear the news to you, my lord.”

  A shroud of sadness fell over David. “I have been roaming the wilderness for too long. I am only too grateful to have heard it from such a pleasant and graceful soul as yourself.”

  “No, my lord. I am not as worthy as I appear to you.”

  “Did Nabal send you?”

  “No. I came of my own accord. He is not aware of my actions.”

  David said, “What will he do when he becomes aware?”

  She knew he was referring to her wounds.

  “It is not my lord’s concern.”

  David sighed and looked at her thoughtfully. It was hard not to stare, she was such a stunning visage of glory. It was a shame that such a worthless man as Nabal would abuse such a precious gift as this woman before him. She was a vessel of grace.

  He said to her, “Blessed be Yahweh, the Elohim of Israel who sent you this day to me. And blessed be you, who have kept me from the bloodguilt of my own hands. Had you not run to me with your humility, truly by morning, there would not be left one male alive in all of Nabal’s household.”

  Abigail began to weep. She alone could see that David’s eyes had also teared up. For that single moment, they shared a lifetime of regret. Regret that Yahweh had not brought them together until it was too late for either of them to be together. Regret that he could not free her from her slavery. It was a moment that they would share only with each other, and could never speak of again.

  David said, “I receive from you your gift. Go in peace to your house. I have heard your plea and I have granted your petition.”