She met Zahara’s worried gaze, suddenly wondering who was the bigger fool, she or her husband. What could she possibly say to David to appease him if the food was not enough? She swiveled to look at Jakim, who was already mounting his exhausted horse. “Hurry,” she whispered as he galloped toward the storehouses.
Zahara stepped closer and stared at her as if she had lost her senses. “You would stand in the way of hostile men, my lady? If David doesn’t kill you, Nabal will.”
Abigail lifted her robe and pushed past Zahara back to the house, her heart pounding harder than her running feet. Zahara was right. There would be no way to explain this to Nabal except to tell him the truth. And once she told him the truth, things would not bode well for her.
Zahara caught up with her as they reached the courtyard. “Are you sure about this, my lady?” Though by her tone, Zahara was not trying to dissuade her. How could she?
“I would rather risk Nabal’s wrath than allow our innocent servants to suffer.” She offered Zahara a weak smile, stifling the fear that was swiftly and surely stealing her peace. “Come, help me dress in clothes that will catch an angry man’s attention. Perhaps God made me beautiful enough to allow me to speak. And if my words fall on ears of hardened stone, then at least I will have died trying.”
14
“Gird on your swords, every man of you!” David reached for the blade he had just finished sharpening and tucked it into the scabbard at his side, his hand trembling as he did so. Fierce rage rushed through him. He drew in a deep breath, willing himself to remain steady, to think. He looked up at the ten men he had sent to Nabal, hearing again the rebuff they had witnessed.
“Who is this David? Who is this son of Jesse?”
Nabal would pay for his insults, along with every man who served him.
“Many servants are breaking away from their masters these days. Why should I take my bread and water, and the meat I have slaughtered for my shearers, and give it to men coming from who knows where?”
Anyone who would put up with such a man as master, who would stay loyal to one so worthless, did not deserve to live.
David’s indignation mounted, his blood bubbling like hot oil.
“Two hundred of you stay with the women and the goods. The rest of you follow me.” He glanced at the eager faces now crowding around him. His gaze caught Daniel, whose father, Judah, had suggested this wilderness hideout and had introduced his men to Nabal’s shepherds. Had they known this would happen? Surely they knew Nabal was a fool. Hadn’t Daniel said as much?
A stab of mistrust pricked his conscience as he assessed the man. Daniel’s gaze held approval, and David’s sudden suspicion evaporated. Still, perhaps Daniel and his father were too close to Nabal’s household to be objective.
“Daniel ben Judah, come here.” The afternoon sun shone down on him, casting shadows among the rocky clefts of the hill.
The crowd parted to let Daniel through. He stood before David, hand on the hilt of his sword as if ready to fight. “Yes, my lord?”
“You know this man’s house.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Do I have your full support?”
A look of annoyance crossed Daniel’s face. “Of course, my lord. I only ask that you spare the women and children. My sister is among them.”
“As I intended.” Good. He was loyal to his family.
“So what are we waiting for?” Joab’s voice came from behind David.
Cries of assent mingled with a handful of chuckles from his men. If they hurried, they could do this thing before nightfall. “Let’s go.”
He turned and marched along the path that wound down the hill, every step fueling his wrath. “It’s been useless—all my watching over this fellow’s property in the desert so that nothing of his was missing. He has paid me back evil for good. May God deal with me, be it ever so severely, if by morning I leave alive one male of all who belong to him!”
An intermittent breeze offered little respite from the blazing summer sun, and it lifted Abigail’s veil only slightly from her face. Up ahead she could see the outline of the heavy-laden donkeys bearing gifts of food for David and his men. Perhaps it would appease. Please, Adonai, let it be enough. She could have given them more, though Nabal would miss what she’d taken as it was. What kind of explanation would she give him for what she had done?
The thought sent a shiver through her despite the warm day. She drew in a deep, slow breath and gripped the reins tighter. The valley stretched before her as her donkey’s sure steps followed the path up the side of the mountain. Behind her Jakim trailed, insisting he come along to protect her while other servants carried the gifts up ahead. But somehow, despite their relative closeness, she felt alone—and in truth, she was. Jakim’s life was forfeit if David would not listen to her plea. What were a few men against the hundreds at David’s side? Unless, perchance, her brother or father were with David and could speak on her behalf.
Oh, Adonai, give me strength. Let me find mercy in the eyes of Your servant David, and give me the words that will keep him from shedding innocent blood.
What was she supposed to say to him? Her mind tested and discarded a number of possible persuasive words as her hands grew moist beneath the leather reins, her heart thudding harder with each step higher up the mountain. She could do this. She had to do this.
A hawk screeched overhead, a foreboding sound. Moments later male voices accompanied the march of steady feet coming closer. She looked up to where the road bent in a wide curve. Her donkey reached the bend as the marching men drew near with their leader in front, fierce and determined.
David. It had to be.
The sight of the king’s son-in-law was nothing like she’d imagined. In the stories she’d heard of him, he was the shepherd and the singer and the man who would kill to marry the woman he loved. The last thought should have warned her of the fierce warrior who strode down the hill, gaze angry and proud. He was more handsome than Nabal, but his expression was as dark as Nabal’s had been the night he assaulted her the first year of their marriage.
Adonai, help me!
Her knees grew weak, and she wasn’t sure they would hold her, but she reined in her donkey just the same and slipped from its back. David’s pace never slowed until he stopped within an arm’s length. She sucked in a startled breath. He was so close she could feel the strength of him, smell his sweat. Unable to stand without swaying, she fell to her knees and lowered her face to the dust.
“My lord, let the blame be on me alone. Please, let me speak to you; hear what your servant has to say.” She stopped and waited for his response, her pounding heart sounding louder than her breath.
Silence spanned between them like a wide chasm. She felt his touch on her head. “Rise and speak.” His voice was quiet and hoarse, as though he didn’t trust himself to say more.
She pushed to her knees and leaned back on her heels, her gaze focused on his feet. “My lord, please pay no attention to this man, Nabal. His name means ‘fool,’ and folly goes with him. But I, your servant, did not see the men my master sent.” She pressed sweaty hands along the folds of her robe as the sound of marching came to an abrupt halt behind David. She ignored the muffled sounds of grumbling men.
“My lord,” she said, lifting her voice above the din, “since Adonai has kept you from avenging yourself and from shedding innocent blood, may your enemies and all who seek your life be as Nabal.”
At his startled intake of breath, she looked up briefly to meet his gaze. Where had such a curse on her husband come from? But the words had been on her tongue before she could stop them. Her hands trembled at the thought. She twisted the sash at her waist, looking once again at his dusty, sandaled feet.
“And now, my lord, may this food your handmaid has brought,” she said, hurrying her words lest he stop her before she could finish, “let it be given to the young men who follow you. Please forgive your servant’s offense. Adonai will surely make a lasting dynasty for my
lord, because you fight Adonai’s battles. May you never be found guilty of wrongdoing. Though your enemies pursue you and seek your life, the Lord your God will protect you, and the lives of your enemies He will hurl away as out of the pocket of a sling. When Adonai fulfills all the good that He has promised you and has appointed you ruler over Israel, my lord will not carry the grief of having avenged yourself or shed blood without cause.”
She drew in a deep breath, willing herself to calm down, but she could not stop her body from trembling. Clasping her hands into a tight ball, she looked at him boldly but dropped her voice to a whisper. “When Adonai brings all these good things to pass for you, my lord, then remember your maidservant.” She quickly dropped her gaze then and placed both hands on her knees, but not before she caught the hint of a smile on his lips. His anger had been assuaged, her words heard.
Thank You, Adonai. Relief flooded her, and a shiver passed over her.
“Praise be to Adonai, the God of Israel, who has sent you today to meet me.” David bent to touch her shoulder, and when she looked up at him again, he offered his hand. “May you be blessed for your good judgment, for keeping me from bloodshed this day, and from avenging myself with my own hands. Otherwise, as surely as the Lord God of Israel lives, who has kept me from harming you, if you had not come quickly to meet me, not one male belonging to Nabal would have been left alive by daybreak.”
She placed her hand in his and let him pull her to her feet. She swayed from the sheer relief of his smile, and he quickened his grip on her hand. Heat filled her face at his touch, however innocent, and when she looked into his eyes, she read his frank appreciation that spoke more than he dared say. She quickly dropped her gaze as he released her hand.
“Go home in peace. I have heard your words and granted your request.” He stepped back from her and clasped his hands behind his back.
The action made her look up again. His smile had faded, but his eyes never left her face. She nodded in acknowledgment, and the impact of all that had just happened rushed in on her with a force that nearly knocked her to her knees again. David was accepting her gift but sending her home. Home to Nabal her husband. Nabal, the foolish son of Belial.
And come morning she would have to tell him everything.
15
Daniel’s heart thumped hard inside his chest as he watched the interchange between David and his sister, and it slowed only a fraction when she concluded her speech and David helped her to stand. Why had she come? If she had let things be, he could have freed her from her impossible marriage to her incorrigible husband. And from the way David was looking at her now, she might even have had a chance to join their band and marry the soon-to-be king. Better to be one of many wives in David’s family than to stay married to a fool.
His hands clenched in and out, and he swallowed back the barrage of questions he longed to fling at her. No, she had come out of loyalty, and perhaps she did have a point. It would not bode well for David if he shed blood without cause.
The thought cooled the heat rushing through him, and he maneuvered past a handful of men to David’s side. “So we’re turning back, my lord?” He knew the answer, but a part of him wanted to hear it confirmed. Perhaps David could be persuaded to kill only Nabal.
“Yes,” David said, his gaze still fixed on Abigail. “She is the man’s wife?”
“Yes, my lord. Abigail is my sister as well.”
The words brought David’s head around to meet Daniel’s gaze. “Truly?” He looked as though he would say more, then turned away to look in Abigail’s direction again.
“She is trapped in a marriage to an evil man. Forgive me for saying so, my lord, but killing Nabal . . . I wanted to free her from it.”
A muscle worked in David’s jaw, his face grim. Abigail stood beside her donkey as though she was in no hurry to mount. “Unfortunate,” he said at last. He took two steps forward, then stopped and turned to Daniel. “See that she makes it safely down the mountain.”
Daniel hesitated, weighing whether to speak again, to try to convince David to let him kill Nabal. If Nabal were dead . . . But he could not act on that thought. He would be guilty before God, and Abigail would never forgive him for it, even if it was in her best interest.
He moved away from David to Abigail’s side. “Abigail, my sister.”
She jumped as though startled and faced him. “Daniel!” In the next instant she flung herself into his arms, and he was half afraid she would start to sob, as his wife Talya did now and then. But she pulled back a moment later and held him at arm’s length, smiling into his eyes, relief flooding her face. “I had so hoped to see you here. Is Father with you? How are Mother and Talya? It’s been so long . . .” Her voice trailed off, and she stole a glance behind him.
“Father stayed with the baggage.” He noted the soft blush on her cheeks. Or was it the warmth of the sun? He glanced in the direction of her gaze and saw David still standing where he had left him, watching them.
“You’ve caught his interest,” Daniel whispered. “If you had only let us kill that lout of a husband of yours—”
Her gaze snapped to his, sudden fire in her eyes. “Don’t say such things, Daniel! You know only Yahweh has the power of life and death. If Nabal were an enemy such as the Philistines, then you would be justified, but he is just a foolish man. Besides, I have given you what you asked for. Please, do not risk harm on my account. Nabal is powerful and supports King Saul. He would kill you himself or have you killed if you even tried to harm him.”
“Not if I killed him first! Do you think we are weak-kneed women?” He couldn’t stop the venom in his tone. The last thing he needed was for his sister to berate him in front of David’s men.
She blanched, and a stricken look crossed her face. “You know I do not think you are weak, Daniel.” She bent her head, her voice low, her shoulders drooping in a sudden gesture of defeat. “I’m sorry.”
“Are you going to help your sister mount so she can go home before nightfall, or do I have to do so myself?” David’s voice came from behind, startling them both. Daniel turned, but not before he caught the soft gasp from Abigail and glimpsed the definite blush on her cheeks.
“We were just catching up on things, my lord,” Daniel said, hurrying to cover the sudden feeling of embarrassment. “She asked about my wife and our parents.” He looked from David to Abigail. “She hasn’t seen them in over a year.”
“Then we will have to arrange a meeting for her.” David took the donkey’s reins and nodded to Daniel. He seemed anxious to have her go, though his eyes couldn’t seem to leave her face.
Daniel settled Abigail on her donkey’s back, but it was David who guided the animal. He turned it for the trek down the mountain, then handed her the reins. Five male servants, four on foot and one on another gray donkey, joined her.
“We’ll return the animals to you once we have taken the food to our camp,” David said, standing beside her as though unable to walk away. “Perhaps we can send your father and Daniel . . . if it’s safe.” He put a hand on the donkey’s mane. “Is it safe?” The look he gave her was one of deep concern, and Daniel knew David had not missed a sentence of their conversation. He knew she was returning to a foolish, evil man.
“Thank you,” she said, but Daniel did not miss the glint of worry in her eyes. “The donkeys would be missed.”
As would the food she had taken. How closely was she watched? Did Nabal check her every move? The thought sent a chill through him.
“Is it safe, Abigail?” David’s use of her given name brought Daniel’s thoughts into sharper focus. It wasn’t safe at all. Especially for her. He moved closer, wanting to yank her from the donkey and whisk her back to camp with them. Let Nabal just try to take her from them. He would be more than happy to slit the man’s throat.
“I will not tell Nabal of our meeting tonight. He will be too drunk to notice.” Her words seemed to appease David, but Daniel was not so easily convinced. Should he follow her ho
me, wait in the shadows, and kill Nabal on his bed?
“Then go in peace.”
Daniel heard David’s words above the thoughts tumbling in his head. As David stepped away from his sister’s side, Daniel moved in and grasped her hand. “Be careful, Abigail.” He looked at her, but her gaze merely lighted on his, then turned back to the road.
“Pray for me, Daniel.” She kicked the donkey’s sides and trotted ahead without him.
Abigail returned to the house, hurried to her rooms, and changed back into a fresh, less ornamented robe. She was fairly numb with worry. She would not tell Nabal what she’d done. Not tonight. That much of what she had told David was true. But she would have to tell Nabal the truth tomorrow when the wine went out of him. Otherwise, when he went about his obsessive tasks of counting his wealth, he would find the missing food and blame the servants. She could not have them suffer on her account.
She leaned against the cool limestone wall inside her bedchamber and drew in a long, slow breath. Her life could be over soon. An involuntary shiver shook her from head to toe, and all energy seeped from her like oil through a press. Indeed, she did feel squeezed from every side, torn between loyalty to her family and loyalty to the man she had married. How naive she had been to think she could change him.
The scent of roasted lamb came through the open window, and the curtains fluttered in the cool evening breeze. She smoothed both hands on her gown, stopping at her middle, at the place where a child should lie. Her one regret in all of this was that she had never borne a son. Would Nabal have treated her differently if she had? Could she have earned his affection then? Or was she barren out of fear of him?
Shouts and rowdy laughter mingled with the music coming from the direction of the front courtyard. Nabal and his shepherds would sit around the court on the limestone benches while servants offered them wine and cheese and washed their feet. They would be inebriated before they ever proceeded to the hall where a banquet awaited. Abigail closed her eyes and prayed for strength. Somehow she had to get through this night without a word of what she had done. Could she trust Zahara to keep quiet about it all?
Abigail (The Wives of King David Book #2): A Novel Page 9