“My lady, some men from David are here to see you.”
Abigail’s hands stilled even as her heart picked up its pace. David had sent men? Not her father or brother? She searched Zahara’s anxious gaze. “How many men? Is my brother among them?” She laid the spindle aside and stood, smoothing her robe as she walked toward her maid.
“There are five of them, and no, your brother is not among them.”
Abigail slowed her pace as she considered and discarded a handful of reasons why they had come. She stopped halfway to the audience chamber to rearrange her veil. “Is it straight? Do I look all right?”
“Of course you look all right. You are beautiful as always, my lady.” Zahara smoothed the finely woven head scarf over Abigail’s flowing hair, adjusting the ivory combs that held it in place at her temples. “There, that’s better.” She met Abigail’s gaze. “Don’t worry. Whatever they want, it will all work out. Didn’t your brother say David wanted you? So you will have a home after all.”
Abigail saw the glint of something akin to hope stir in Zahara’s eyes, and it occurred to her that perhaps Zahara would now want, even seek, a home of her own as well. “I suppose you will want to return to your people?”
Zahara lifted a shoulder in a slight shrug as though the thought had never occurred to her, but her expression was far from indifferent. The thought pained Abigail. She enjoyed Zahara’s company, despite the girl’s pagan roots and lack of faith in Adonai. “We will talk more of this after we hear what they have to say.” She nodded toward the audience chamber, indicating for Zahara to lead the way.
She stopped at the threshold for Zahara to announce her presence, scanning the five bearded men whose company filled only part of the spacious room. Their hair appeared freshly washed, their faces were clean, and their clothes smelled of travel more than sweat and sheep. This was an official greeting to demand such an attendance. She looked into their anxious faces, her gaze stopping with the burly man she had seen with Daniel the last time he had come to see her, the day Nabal’s heart had turned to stone.
“Welcome to my home.” She glanced at one of her young maids, then took a seat in the chair Nabal had reserved for himself. Her maid hurried away and returned moments later with a bowl and pitcher to wash the men’s feet. Abigail glanced at each man, then focused not on the burly man but on the one who appeared to be the leader. “How may I serve you, and why have you come?” She pointed to cedarwood benches that lined the walls, indicating for them to sit. They did as she bid them, and her maid quickly approached the first man and bent to untie his sandals.
“I am Asahel, nephew of David ben Jesse. David sent us to you to ask you to become his wife.” The man who spoke was about her brother’s age. His medium brown hair fell along his square jaw, his thin frame was muscular and agile, and he bore a resemblance to David except fairer. As he spoke, he held Abigail’s gaze, then glanced briefly about the room. Interest flickered in his eyes as his gaze rested on Zahara, then he gave his full attention to Abigail again. “He regrets that he did not allow you more time to mourn your husband, but he is anxious to leave the area. I know this is sudden—”
“No, it is good. There was no need to mourn.” She stood, her knees feeling suddenly weak at what she was about to do. Her life would change forever if she did as they requested. Did she truly want to be just another wife of a charming man? But the thought of marrying Nabal’s shepherd or living alone the rest of her life answered that question with ease.
She stepped forward, knelt before the leader, and bowed her face to the earth. The man cleared his throat but did not speak. She raised her head and stood again, then took the pitcher, basin, and towel from her maidservant and continued the task the girl had begun. When she finished washing the feet of each man, she handed the towel to her maid and stood, head bowed before them.
“Here is your maidservant, a servant to wash the feet of the servants of my lord.” She looked up and caught the wide grin on Asahel’s face and the accompanying smiles of the men with him. Even the burly guard she’d seen with Daniel had lost his stoic expression in a soft grin. “Let my maids and me gather our things. Then we will come at once.”
“How can we help you, my lady?” Asahel spoke again, drawing her attention. “We will be happy to load the donkeys for you.”
Abigail nodded, her heart doing a sudden gallop through her chest and a shudder working through her. “My servant Jakim will help you to ready the animals. My maids and I will gather our things. We will meet by the well.”
“We will do as you say.” The man turned to his companions. “Let’s hurry.”
Before the men had finished retying their sandals, Abigail and Zahara fled the room to hasten to David.
PART III
Abigail quickly got on a donkey and, attended by her five maids, went with David’s messengers and became his wife. David had also married Ahinoam of Jezreel, and they both were his wives.
1 Samuel 25:42–43
David thought to himself, “One of these days I will be destroyed by the hand of Saul. The best thing I can do is to escape to the land of the Philistines. Then Saul will give up searching for me anywhere in Israel, and I will slip out of his hand.” So David and the six hundred men with him left and went over to Achish son of Maoch king of Gath. David and his men settled in Gath with Achish. Each man had his family with him, and David had his two wives: Ahinoam of Jezreel and Abigail of Carmel, the widow of Nabal.
1 Samuel 27:1–3
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Abigail’s knuckles whitened on the donkey’s reins the closer they came to David’s encampment. Shadows blanketed the hills as the sun began its quick descent over the western horizon, and Abigail’s heart thumped with a strange mix of giddy excitement and dread. She’d caught a glimpse of David’s varied emotions the day she’d met him along the path—known the terror of his murderous wrath in his warrior eyes, and the sudden switch to gentle kindness when that wrath had been appeased. Would he ever turn that wrath on her?
A shiver worked through her, despite the many times she’d told herself that David was not Nabal. Somehow she must keep her fear to herself and stop comparing the two men in her mind. Oh, Adonai, grant me peace. Her heart fluttered in accompaniment to her prayer as her donkey followed the messengers into the clearing where men and women were separated into groups, the women cooking over open flames and the men sitting about sharpening swords and laughing together.
The donkeys halted near a supply cave filled with leather packs strewn about at one end and animals resting or bent over a large feeding trough on the other. A man appeared near the supplies, and as he drew closer she recognized her brother. Smiling, he walked toward her and helped her dismount.
“Nervous?” he asked, his gaze searching hers. Concern replaced his wide grin. “I know that look. You don’t need to worry with David. He is not like Nabal.” He rested both hands on her shoulders. “David won’t hurt you,” he whispered, as if he knew all about Nabal’s abuse though she had never told him.
She nodded, her throat suddenly thick with unshed tears. “There is more than one way to hurt a person,” she whispered back, leaning close to his ear. “But you needn’t worry about me, Daniel. Yahweh will take care of me.” She looked at him with tentative assurance, hoping that he would believe her and that saying it would make it so in the deepest places in her heart.
He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “You will do well here, Abigail.” He smiled again and turned toward the central fire pit. Music from a single lyre floated on the night breezes, nearly drowned out by the din of men’s banter and the chatter of the women. “Come,” he said, leaving the baggage cave and motioning for her to follow.
She lifted her robe above her sandals and hurried after him. “What of my maids, Daniel?” She glanced back at Zahara and the four other serving girls she had brought with her from Nabal’s house. She could have abandoned them to the mercy of the male servants she had left in charge of the place until David co
uld decide what to do with Nabal’s estate, or allowed them to return to their fathers’ houses and let Zahara return to her people, but she wouldn’t risk what might become of them. And she needed the moral support of their presence.
He stopped to look at her. “They will still serve you, I suppose. David will probably let you do as you wish with them. Now come on, Abba is waiting to give you to David, and Mama is anxious to see you.” He whirled about before she could respond.
Daniel led her to a large stone where a man holding a lyre stilled his playing at their approach. She tugged her scarf across her neck but left her face open for him to see. Their gazes met, and his dark eyes held hers. Even in the dim light of dusk and firelight, she could read the sheer delight dancing in their depths. Her knees lost their ability to stand in the intensity of his look, and she sank to the earth and bowed with her face to the dust.
“My lord,” she said, feeling that she should say so much more. But where once her mind flowed with words to appease him, now she could think of nothing to say.
His touch on her shoulder made her look up, his tender gaze stealing her fear. He was undeniably handsome, making her pulse jump at his dark, rugged good looks. He held out a hand to her and lifted her to her feet. “Welcome.” He searched her face as though wanting to be sure she had come because she truly desired to be here.
“Thank you, my lord.” She averted her gaze from his perusal, but his fingers under her chin coaxed her to look at him again.
“You got my message.” It wasn’t a question, though he waited, clearly expecting an answer.
“Yes, my lord. I accept your offer.”
His fingers closed over hers, and his eyes lit with that same fire of longing she’d noticed when their gazes first met. He wanted her, and in that instant she realized she wanted him as well. “You understand my situation?” He spoke softly, bending closer to her ear, as though the question worried him.
She looked into his eyes, unable to pull away, his face so close she could feel his warmth. “You live as a fugitive and have another wife. Yes, my lord, I understand.” She drew in a slow breath, willing her racing heart under control. “I still accept.” She allowed a slight smile to reassure him and was rewarded with a sigh of relief and an enigmatic grin that stopped her heart.
He stepped back from her and glanced at the men she now noticed sitting in a circle near where he’d been playing his lyre. She recognized her father and had to hold herself in check to keep from running into his arms. His beaming smile told her she had made a wise choice in accepting David’s offer. He stood and walked toward them while her mother stood behind him, looking as though she couldn’t wait for the men to get on with things.
“Abigail, I have already given David my permission, but Abiathar here is waiting to give you the ceremony you deserve— such as we can offer. You will not be denied the priestly blessing this time.” Her father pulled her close and wrapped strong arms about her. Her throat closed with sudden unexpected emotion at the comfort of his embrace. She was safe again, and despite the living conditions, despite the presence of another wife, this marriage would be better.
“I won’t let anyone hurt you again, dear one,” Abba whispered against her hair.
“Come, come, Judah, give a mother a moment to hold the daughter she hasn’t seen in half a lifetime.”
Abigail turned at the sound of her mother’s voice and fell into her open arms. “Mama!” She choked on the word, fearing she would weep for the joy of being with her family again and spoil the quick work Zahara had made of her makeup for the wedding.
“I’m glad you came.” Her mother’s tone carried a sense of relief, and when Abigail pulled back and looked into her eyes, she caught a glimpse of something more. Gratitude, perhaps? “Come now, Talya and I have prepared the canopy.” She turned and waved Abigail’s sister-in-law over. “Bring your maids and follow me.”
Abigail hugged Talya and glanced over her shoulder at David, uncertain. He nodded, indicating she do as her mother asked.
“We will come when you are ready.” His dark eyes crinkled at the corners, and his assuring smile bolstered her courage.
“Thank you, my lord.” She turned then, confident of his favor, and slipped her arm through Talya’s.
“He’s nothing like Nabal, Abigail. Daniel thinks the sun rises and sets with David, as though God’s favor is linked to the man.” Talya leaned close as they approached the cave where a makeshift canopy stood awaiting her. “But his first wife Ahinoam is used to things being a certain way.”
Abigail paused to look into Talya’s eyes. “What are you saying?”
Talya shrugged. “You don’t have anything to worry about. She’s a whiny one, and David grows weary of her complaints. He’d been growing tired of her before he met you. But she’s been with him for several years now, so she might not be easy to befriend.”
Abigail glanced beyond the cave’s entrance to the men and women and wondered which one was Ahinoam. Guilt pricked her conscience, but what could she do? It was too late to back out of the marriage now.
“There wasn’t time to make something special,” her mother said as she came up behind Abigail, “but Talya brought her wedding garments with her when we came.”
Abigail turned to see the embroidered, multicolored robe that had draped her sister-in-law at her marriage to Daniel and had been worn since at festivals and other special occasions. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.” She had left her own wedding garments, the robe and tunic she had worn for Nabal, back at Nabal’s house, wanting nothing to do with the memories they evoked. She fingered Talya’s robe, then allowed the women to remove her own robe and place the cheery garment over her tunic in place of it.
Talya placed a garland of wild flowers over her veil, then stood back. “Lovely as always.” The women surrounded her, giggling and smiling. “Wait until David sees you.”
“He will never know such a beautiful bride.” Her mother gripped her arms and searched her gaze, her voice low. “You know he will take more wives someday, don’t you, child?”
Abigail’s heart did a little flip at the implication of what her future held. “I know, Mama.” But the knowing didn’t stop the uneasy feeling her mother’s words brought to mind.
A moment passed, then her mother clucked her tongue and hurried past Abigail toward the cave’s entrance. “The man won’t want to wait for you forever!”
Her maids laughed, and Abigail felt her face flush even as her heart quickened its pace.
Moments passed, and her stomach fluttered at the sound of the men outside. Her father’s voice carried to her but was overshadowed by David’s newly familiar tone. They came closer, and a young man stepped forward dressed as a shepherd but draped in the ephod of a priest.
“This is Abiathar, last surviving member of the priests of Nob,” David said, one hand held toward the man, the other extended to her. She took it and stood with him under the canopy.
David spread the corner of his robe over her shoulders and wrapped one arm about her waist. Tingling warmth rushed through her at his touch. She hadn’t expected the wedding to happen so fast, but then David did not live as normal men.
She listened in silence as her father pledged her to David. “And do you, Abigail ben Judah, promise obedience to your husband, David ben Jesse?” Abiathar asked.
She met the priest’s kind gaze. His pale eyes told her he had seen far too much pain in the world, yet he had somehow survived. The thought comforted her, infusing her with strength. She could survive too.
“Yes.” Abigail looked up into David’s shining eyes. “I will strive to please you, my lord.” Her words were spoken for his ears alone, and her heart lifted at the delight in his responding smile.
“I promise to protect you, to care for your needs, to cherish you.” David tightened his grip at her waist, his gaze never leaving hers.
“Then in the sight of Adonai and these witnesses, I give you Adonai’s blessing.”
David
pulled her to him and kissed her forehead. Cheers erupted around them, and David led her back to the campfire and seated her on the stone next to him. A woman brought a bowl of savory-smelling red lentil stew and a large, round loaf of flat bread and placed them on the small stone before them. David broke the bread, dunked it into the stew, and handed it to her.
“Taste and see that Adonai is good,” he said, his smile gentle, his dark eyes searching hers.
She accepted the bread, her arm tingling when her fingers brushed his in the exchange. She lifted the bread to her lips and ate, barely aware of the taste or of the sounds of feasting, laughter, and music floating around them.
“I don’t have much to offer you here”—he waved a hand encompassing the area around them—“but what I have is yours.” He bit off a large chunk of the flat bread and chewed, silently assessing her.
She glanced around them. “There are more women here than I expected. Does that make it hard for you . . . when the king . . . when he—”
“When Saul tracks me down and threatens my life?”
She nodded, wishing she hadn’t brought up such a topic on this day.
He looked beyond her, and a cloud covered his expression for the briefest moment, then lifted. “The women help keep the men calm,” he said at last, as though no other explanation was needed. “They are a burden, without question.” He turned to her then, caught her hand in his, and smiled. “But a burden worth the trouble.” He winked, making her pulse quicken.
She returned his smile, not sure how to take his answer. But of course, the women would slow the men down in the event they had to run. “I hope so, my lord.” She did not wish to add to David’s troubles, but she was here now and determined to make the best of the arrangements.
Movement caught her eye and she glanced to her right, following David’s gaze. She glimpsed a young woman at the edges of the camp avoiding the festivities, staring at David, her beautiful face wreathed in a frown. Ahinoam. Undoubtedly.
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