Their spacious room adjoined David’s even larger one. She could hear laughter coming from David’s quarters. David’s nephews, Joab, Abishai, and Asahel, were his constant companions along with Benaiah, Daniel, and a handful of his mighty men who held counsel with him. A part of her longed to hear their conversation, but she knew David would only tell her not to worry herself over political affairs. Even Daniel barely had time to visit with her these days to tell her what David had planned, leaving her to speculate.
As an Egyptian slave bent to wash her dusty feet, she relaxed and closed her eyes, listening to the chatter of Ahinoam, Talya, and her mother. Oh, Adonai, she prayed as she’d done all the days of her fast, please keep us from being polluted by this place. Send us far from the pagan influences of Gath. Protect David from the lure of wealth and remind him that You are his keeper and his best defense against all of his enemies.
The king’s delicacies that were placed before Abigail in the spacious dining hall that evening, where she and Ahinoam sat at a table across from the wives and concubines of Achish, turned her stomach at first glance. Except for the fruit, dates, figs, and vegetables, the law of Adonai allowed nothing. A roast pig lay browned in the center of the table, while broiled catfish and crabs’ legs from the sea filled ceramic platters to overflowing.
Abigail wondered whether David would eat everything Achish offered. She glanced about at the rest of their group seated at long tables all around the room. In his generosity, Achish had invited David’s entire entourage to dine with him. David sat at the table nearest the king.
“They keep staring at us.” Ahinoam leaned close, the hem of her veil touching Abigail’s arm. At David’s command, the women had kept their faces covered, allowing only the smallest opening for their eyes and mouth to see and eat—a command she obeyed with gratitude for the protection it afforded from pagan scrutiny.
“If we don’t look back, we won’t notice. I suggest we eat and keep to ourselves.” She picked up a raisin cake and glanced into Ahinoam’s fear-filled eyes. The woman had been almost giddy at the prospect of settling down—until they walked the foreign streets of Gath and felt the animosity of the Philistine people as they passed. “It will be all right, Ahinoam. Yahweh is with us.”
“Is He?” She waved a hand at the roasted pig in the center of the table. “You know He would not approve of this. There is nothing we can eat!” She glanced toward David’s table. “Does our lord eat the king’s delicacies? Will he expect us to?” Her words, barely above a whisper, carried a sense of despair.
Abigail looked in David’s direction as well, hoping to catch his gaze, but he was caught up in conversation with his men. From a distance it was hard to tell, but the swine looked untouched and the sea creatures still piled high on platters in front of the men. A servant approached David as Abigail watched, and David spoke something in the man’s ear. Moments later the platters of unclean food were removed from his table and the tables of all the Israelites in attendance.
“There, see,” Abigail whispered, leaning close to Ahinoam. “Adonai is still with us, even in this pagan city.” It was a small comfort, but she would take whatever she could get. Some how, she must endure this country, these people. David had chosen to come here, and Yahweh had not stopped him. This trial couldn’t be any worse than living with Nabal’s abuse, and yet—she couldn’t help praying, silently pleading for Yahweh to intervene and rescue them from this place.
A strand of hair slipped from beneath Abigail’s headdress into her eyes as she worked the millstone in a circular motion over grains of wheat, grinding them into soft flour. The kernels were among the many spoils David had retrieved on military raids of foreign towns in the four months they had been in Ziklag. After six months living in the royal city of Gath, David had finally kept his promise to her and brought them to the outlying town of Ziklag, far from the watchful eye of the Philistine king.
She paused, straightened, and looked out over the bustling town, lifting her shoulders to ease the tension. The men had returned the night before from a raid, and David was busy dividing the spoils to send to strategic places in Judah, to friends who had helped him in times past. Squeals of children mingled with the laughter of women as they picked through piles of utensils, clothing, and jewels.
Ahinoam approached with a sieve and settled onto a bench at Abigail’s side. “David gave me two new robes and a matching jeweled headdress and earrings last night.” She lifted her chin, her expression telling Abigail that she’d been much too pleased to have David call her to his quarters after he’d kissed Abigail goodnight. If he’d come home a week earlier, she would have been his choice, but she’d been forced to tell him she was unclean, leaving him momentarily disappointed. She almost hoped he would sleep alone and wait until she could join him again, but Ahinoam was only too eager to take her place.
“That’s nice.” Abigail bent over the millstone, letting the grinding noises fill the silence between them. She ignored the clamor of women hurrying back to their chores and shooing children away from the goods.
“What did he give you?” Ahinoam asked, finally breaking the silence. Abigail knew that the woman’s interest was only so that she could compare their gifts. While Abigail took a particular liking to the sapphire headdress David had given her—extracting her promise that she would wear it on his coronation day—she was in no mood for comparisons. It was hard enough sharing a man. She didn’t need to compete for every expression of his love.
“About the same as he gave to you,” she said at last, deciding that Ahinoam would find out eventually anyway. “Have you seen Zahara?”
“Not since last night before David asked me to his rooms.”
Abigail closed her eyes, telling herself to ignore the stinging comments, which were meant only to wound. David called Ahinoam so rarely, Abigail ought to feel pity, not jealousy. So why did the woman’s haughty tone trouble her? She would never make David a good wife if she spent her days comparing herself to every other wife he chose to take.
The thought left a hollow feeling in her heart.
“That’s strange. Zahara almost always greets me after her visit to the well. But I didn’t see her this morning.” Abigail forced her mind to focus on her missing maid instead of Ahinoam’s bragging. “She must be around here somewhere. Did anyone check her pallet? Perhaps she is ill.”
“How would I know? She’s your maid.”
Abigail stopped the mill and straightened. “Indeed she is.”
And the only maid not yet married to one of the eligible men, though David’s nephew Asahel had asked for the privilege more than once. He needed a wife to care for his young son after losing the child’s mother at birth. For some reason David kept putting him off, as though he didn’t want the man to marry Zahara. But the girl had proven to be nothing but loyal. So why did David still distrust her?
Abigail stood and brushed flour from her tunic. “I’m going to check on her.”
Ahinoam shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
Abigail checked the room where the girl slept and found her sleeping mat and personal items gone. She then stopped at each neighboring courtyard to ask after Zahara, growing more worried with each negative response. Alarm tightened her middle, and sweat covered her upper lip. She wiped it away with the back of her hand, surprised to find herself shaking.
She leaned against the cool limestone wall of the house David had inhabited when the residents of Ziklag had left the town to the Israelites. Where would Zahara have gone, and why? Was she a threat to David? Did David know something about Zahara he hadn’t told her?
She drew in a slow breath, willing strength into her weak limbs. She must find David to tell him at once and hope they could find the girl before something terrible happened.
David climbed a low hill and glanced toward the south in the direction of their last raid on the Amalekites. He’d done his best to annihilate the people, to carry out God’s judgment on them as Saul was once told and failed to do. But
pockets of them still existed, and David worried lest one of them escape and make his way to Gath, to Achish, to tell the Philistine king of David’s exploits.
He ran a hand over his beard and sighed. If he had listened to Abigail, they would still be running from Saul with little earthly wealth to sustain them. Coming to Philistine territory had given him the edge he needed to build a better following. More men had joined him here, and the spoils of war had made him stronger.
But a part of him wished he’d had her courage. The lies he had spoken to protect himself from King Achish, leading the man to believe he was killing Israelites instead of Geshurites and Amalekites, left him feeling somehow bereft and ever more distant from Yahweh.
He glanced heavenward, yearning for that closeness he’d once felt as a shepherd in Judah’s hills. Was Abigail right? Though the people did not openly worship foreign gods, had Adonai abandoned them when they entered Philistine lands?
What would You have me do, O Lord?
Even his prayers seemed to reach no farther than his heart. Heaviness filled him. He turned to walk back toward the town and was met by Benaiah, who guarded his every move, and
Joab, whose agitated look raised the tension at the back of his neck.
“What is it?” He kept walking as the two men fell into step beside him.
“Achish has sent his messengers, accompanied by palace guards and a small army.”
David stopped. Looked at his nephew. “How small?”
“Six hundred men.”
David’s stomach clenched. So many. “He never sends guards.”
“Obviously, this time is different.”
Had Achish gotten wind of the truth? Worry gnawed at him again. “What could he want?” The question demanded an answer he would have soon enough. He picked up his pace and hurried toward the gate.
Philistine soldiers wearing the colors and insignia of Achish, king of Gath, stood at attention at David’s approach. David’s own men surrounded him as he took his seat in the gate and beckoned the king’s messenger forward. The man bowed one knee and straightened, meeting David’s gaze.
“The king requests that David, son of Jesse, and his men accompany him and the rest of the Philistine army into battle against the Israelites. He requests your presence in Gath immediately.”
David steeled his expression, drumming his fingers on the stone seat. His gaze took in the messenger and the band of Philistines spilling out of the gate, waiting to accompany his men. To refuse would be seen as a slight to Achish. His men and their families would never escape if he tried to run. He recognized the formidable Ittai the Gittite, the leader of the king’s personal guard, and knew this mission would not end well.
He looked back at the messenger and nodded. “We will come. Just give us time to gather our provisions.”
The messenger stepped back and bowed. “It will be as you say.”
When the guards and messengers had left the town gate and joined the soldiers outside the walls, David turned to his advisors. “Summon the men to prepare for war. We return to Gath.”
Abigail stood at the threshold to David’s rooms, waiting for him to finish stuffing an extra tunic into a sack and double-check the sharpness of his dagger. She walked in when he turned to look at her and handed him a satchel of honey cakes, almonds, and figs.
“Everything is ready, my lord.”
He took the satchel, his expression grim. “If only that were true.” He reached for her hand and pulled her to him, pressing her head against his chest. “Pray for me, Abigail.” His voice caught, and his arms tightened around her.
“Always.” She wove her fingers through his hair as he drew her close. His kiss, so ardent, so desperate, surprised her. Did he fear he wouldn’t come back? Was Adonai allowing this to punish David for leaving Israel? But she couldn’t voice the thought. “It will all work out,” she whispered when their lips parted. “Adonai will not abandon His anointed.”
His brow lifted at that, and he held her at arm’s length. “He will have to abandon one of us, beloved. Saul is my opponent, fighting against the Philistines. If I fight with the Philistines, in truth one of us will die. We are both His anointed.”
“But the Lord said you would replace Saul as king, so if one of you dies, it will be Saul, not you.” She knew in her heart it was so. It had to be.
“Pray you are right.” He kissed her again, then released her. “I must go.”
“My lord, there is one thing I must tell you before you leave.” She wondered at her own wisdom in light of his irritated look.
“I have to go, Abigail. Is it truly important?” He moved toward the door but paused at the threshold.
She held his gaze, too late to back down now. “I think so.” If she didn’t tell him, he would wonder why she’d kept it from him.
“Tell me quickly.”
She followed him as he walked through the house toward the courtyard where his men waited. “My maid Zahara is missing. It appears she has taken her pallet and few belongings and left Ziklag. I’ve looked for her everywhere, but she is gone.”
He stopped near the ovens where her mother and Talya hurriedly snatched hot loaves from the stones and shoved them into baskets for the donkeys to carry. “When did this happen?” His expression clouded, his brows drawn together in a scowl.
“I discovered it this morning.”
He rubbed his chin, then scanned the courtyard. Benaiah, Joab, Abishai, and Asahel stood in the street outside the court beside donkeys, engrossed in some private discussion, while Daniel stood nearby, holding Micah and Talya in his arms. David took two steps toward his nephews, then turned back to her. “There is nothing I can do about it now. She has apparently run off, and that’s probably a good thing. I never trusted her.” He touched her shoulder. “If she returns, do not accept her back unless she has a plausible explanation for her abandonment. Have one of the young men detain her until I return. Otherwise, let her go. May God grant her whatever she deserves.” He bent to kiss her cheek, then turned toward his men without a backward glance.
24
Rank after rank of Philistine soldiers passed by King Achish where he sat on a large rock overlooking the plains of Aphek, their red-feathered helmets moving in the warm afternoon breeze, their proud backs straight, their faces like hardened stone. David stood with his men at the rear of the crowd, his gut twisting, his mind testing and discarding any number of possible ways to escape his fate of having to go to battle against his own people. He found none.
Benaiah moved closer, but even the sight of his burly guard did nothing to assuage the deep-rooted feeling of unease sifting through him. This was surely God’s hand of judgment on him for bringing his men out of Israel. He should never have come, never have trusted a foreign power above his God for protection.
O sovereign Adonai, have mercy on me!
The prayer had turned to a plea the moment Achish insisted to his face that he and his men would surely accompany the Philistines into this ill-timed battle. The moment he’d heard his own lips utter compliance, however vague he’d tried to be, guilt and fear had become his constant companions.
They nudged him now as Benaiah came to stand at his side. The only sign of the man’s own agitation was the muscle ticking along his right eye. “They number in the tens of thousands,” he said, his voice low.
Tension knotted the muscles in David’s neck. He folded his arms over his chest and nodded. “Yes. A formidable foe. Saul is ill prepared.” The thought should comfort him, for if Saul perished in battle, the way would be clear for him to ascend the throne. Jonathan would see to it. But not if David’s own hand carried a sword to war against Israel. The people would never accept him.
“We could help him.”
David looked at his guard and lifted a brow. “You’re suggesting we go into battle with the Philistines and then turn against them to help Israel?”
Benaiah shrugged and met David’s gaze. “Have you thought of a better way to redeem our
selves out of this situation?”
David glanced again at the Philistine ranks, noting the blue and red robes setting apart the princes who governed the outlying Philistine cities. They bowed low before King Achish, then gathered in a group to speak with him. Angry shouts in a tongue he didn’t understand drifted across the compound, with Achish’s voice drowned out by the Philistine lords. Moments later, the leaders followed Achish into his tent.
David’s men huddled into their own tents or gathered at several fires at the edges of the Philistine encampment. A commotion caught his attention as Asahel broke through the Philistine ranks and rushed to his side.
“What did you learn?” David’s nephew was quick and unobtrusive, his plain features and agile motion allowing him to move like a fox, virtually unnoticed among the enemy soldiers.
“Achish’s army generals do not take kindly to our presence. They are demanding we leave, while Achish is insisting we stay.” Asahel straightened the belt at his waist and lifted somber brown eyes to David, reminding him of Jonathan. He couldn’t bear to war against the best friend he’d ever known.
“Let us pray Achish loses the argument,” Benaiah whispered as Joab and Abishai joined them.
“The men are beginning to grumble,” Joab said, stepping up to David. He faced him down, his hawklike gaze boring through David. “If you try to make them go through with this, you may find yourself at the end of one of their swords.”
“The Philistines are murmuring as well. They remember the virgins’ song, ‘Saul has slain his thousands, and David his ten thousands.’ ” Asahel glanced around as though fearing the enemy might overhear.
“I suspect they liked it about as well as Saul did.” David kneaded the back of his neck and looked first toward the Philistine tents, then behind him at his six hundred men. “How many are disloyal?”
“To you or to Israel?” Joab’s sarcasm matched his bitter gaze.
Abigail (The Wives of King David Book #2): A Novel Page 16