She shifted her gaze from the fire to David, catching a look of deep sorrow in his eyes. He offered her the slightest smile and held her gaze, and in that moment she understood the meaning behind her husband’s lament. David and Jonathan had shared a camaraderie, a brotherhood of friendship and burden-bearing of secrets and trust, much like women shared a common sisterhood, a commiserating of shared worries and woes. She’d had such a thing with her cousin Leah before her first marriage, a lifetime ago.
She inclined her head toward David and offered him her most understanding expression in return, then averted her gaze and toyed with the fringe along the edges of her robe, debating whether to stay and continue to listen to his mournful tunes or move to the tent and find solace in sleep. Undoubtedly, he would grieve alone this night, so he wasn’t likely to require her presence.
“How the mighty have fallen, and the weapons of war perished.” He strummed one last chord on the lyre and let his fingers fall silent. David’s men rose two and three at a time and bid their goodnights, then headed to their tents. Abigail looked up at the touch of a hand on her arm.
“Come with me, Abigail.” David held his hand out to her, surprising her.
She felt the warmth of his fingers intertwining with hers as he led her to their tent. He paused at the opening and bid Ahinoam to rest, then tugged Abigail beyond the partition toward his private quarters. Multiple pillows surrounded a plush blanket, offering a soft cushion to cradle them when they slept. The furnishings were a far cry from the goat-hair blankets and cloaks they’d used for coverings when she had first married him, evidence of the many spoils taken in battle.
He placed the lyre in a leather pouch and hung it from a peg, then motioned for her to join him among the pillows.
She knelt at his side and shifted her feet beneath her. “How can I serve you, my lord?”
He pulled her down beside him and traced a finger along her jaw. “Serve me? Surely you must know that’s not why you are here.” His expression softened as his eyes assessed her. “Something troubles you, though. What is it?”
“This is a difficult day, my lord.” She avoided looking at him, though she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek and the gentle way his finger loosened the combs from her hair. He sifted the strands between his fingers as they fell to the middle of her back.
“We can comfort each other,” he said, turning her chin toward him and leaning closer to taste her lips. “I need you, Abigail.” He left a trail of kisses from her lips to her neck, then back again. “Let me love you without words.”
She held his gaze. When they were alone like this, it was one of the few times she had to speak to him of anything that troubled her, to ask his favor for things she wanted or to work through a difficulty or misunderstanding she might have with him—as she longed to do with their argument about Zahara. He was asking her to hold her tongue, to let their love speak its own silent language.
Which meant another day or week or month she must wait to bring up the subject, to clear the air between them. Must she harbor her resentment forever? Could she forgive and forget without letting him know how she felt?
He looked at her with an expression that begged her to understand, to act as men acted when they overlooked a matter, as he’d often done when having to deal with two wives and a host of unruly men.
She nodded, her heart suddenly warming to him. She wanted to be the friend Jonathan had been to him, and more. She wanted him to find the love of this woman greater than the brotherly love he’d lost in his friend.
Abigail slipped her arms out of her robe, saw the delight ignite in David’s eyes. She lifted her hands to his shoulders, then moved them around his neck in response and kissed him without words.
28
Days turned to weeks, and Ziklag burst at the seams with men from the tribes of Israel seeking to anoint David king in Saul’s place. Abigail’s time alone with David had been sporadic since the night they’d sought solace in each other’s arms, a situation she told herself again and again to accept. If only she could get her heart to allow the inevitable change that was coming—and coming far faster than she ever dreamed possible.
Now, as she sat astride a donkey at the front of the group of women and children on the way to Hebron, she looked toward the hills blanketing their path and the sea of men stretched before her with David riding in military splendor at their head. Fighting men broken in regiments of hundreds made up the thousands of soldiers flanking them on all sides, solid protection against bandits or enemy Philistines come to prevent David’s ascension to Israel’s throne. Some even feared Saul’s tribe of Benjamin would attempt to thwart Judah from proclaiming David king, as word had it that Abner, Saul’s cousin, had vowed to do all in his power to put Saul’s remaining son Ishbosheth on the throne.
David didn’t seem worried. In fact, he was thrilled with the royal garments she had made for him, seeing it as a sign of God’s timing. Indeed, it did appear that Adonai was leading her husband, that the fulfillment of His promise to David was near. She smiled at the thought.
“I don’t know what there is to smile about.” Ahinoam’s sharp tongue cut into her musings. “Of course, you don’t have to ride carrying an added weight in your middle. If I have to sit on this beast one more day, this baby is going to come before it’s due.”
Abigail felt the familiar pall of bitterness she experienced every time the woman flaunted her condition. The fact that Ahinoam traveled in misery did little to console Abigail or relieve her of the nagging fear she had carried since the sixth month of her marriage. She was barren. She had to be. In her three years with Nabal, she had never conceived, and now, after nearly two years with David, things were no different.
She glanced at her rival, catching the self-satisfied smirk beneath her gauzy veil. She sensed not for the first time that Ahinoam enjoyed taunting her with her superior status as first wife about to bear David’s first heir.
She swallowed the words she longed to fling back at the woman and gazed ahead at the company as they rounded a bend between two green hills. The sun had crested the middle of the sky moments before, illuminating the limestone gates of Hebron.
“It won’t be much longer now.” She nodded toward the gates. “I’m sure you’ll be fine.” She glanced behind her at the other women, some of them walking, some riding, some chatting and keeping a quick eye on their children or nursing babes tied to their sides. She hoped to spot her mother or sister-in-law or a friend. But none were close enough to interfere or intervene between David’s two wives.
Ahinoam grunted and mumbled something Abigail could not quite understand but happily ignored. She prodded her donkey to move a few paces ahead, hoping Ahinoam didn’t notice her desire to get away from her.
“There’s talk of David bringing Michal back.”
Abigail tugged slightly on the reins to slow her pace again so she could meet Ahinoam’s gaze. “What did you say?”
“You know exactly what I said. We aren’t even to Hebron yet and it’s already started. Soon David will have his palace and his many women, and we’ll be relegated to just another ornament at his side.” Her bitter words held a fragile edge. “You can’t tell me it doesn’t worry you, Abigail. We have to present David a united front or he’ll allow more women to take our rightful places.”
A united front? About what? But it was obvious Ahinoam had given the matter much thought, and even now, despite her occasional haughty air and her worrisome talk, her expression told Abigail that she was scared and lost, needing a friend. Few women spoke well of Ahinoam behind her back, and in an overcrowded women’s quarters, things would only get worse.
“You think there is something we can do to stop him from reclaiming his first wife?” She shook her head. “I’m afraid you are mistaken. Once David is king, there will be little to stop him from doing whatever he pleases.” She winced at her own bitter tone, not wanting to give Ahinoam any encouragement, but the fact was, men did what they pleased.
A king all the more so.
“Then we are doomed.” The dejected look Ahinoam gave her squelched the anger her words produced. “He will bring Michal back, she will become his queen, and we will be nothing but concubines to occasionally share his bed.” She placed a protective hand over her middle. “The only consolation is that Michal is barren, so whether I’m queen or not, my son will be David’s rightful heir.”
Abigail fisted her hands around the donkey’s reins, gripping them until her knuckles went white. The woman was obsessively self-centered. “We are a long way from declaring David’s successor. Let’s allow our husband to be crowned king of Israel before we decide which of his sons may one day sit on the throne in his place.” She kicked the donkey’s sides, harder this time, and moved ahead of Ahinoam. If David fell out of Adonai’s favor, as Saul had done when he refused to obey Adonai’s commands to kill the Amalekites, David might end up like Saul, without a rightful heir. It was foolish to speculate about such things now.
But a niggling worry irritated her just the same. There was far more truth in Ahinoam’s words than Abigail cared to admit. Though he had never spoken of it with her, Abigail had no doubt that David would one day expect, even demand, Michal’s return. Just as she had no doubt that David would take other women to be his wives. To build a family dynasty, a man needed sons—and if her fears were realized, a son was something she could not give him.
David lifted his head to the surrounding hills that nestled the town of Hebron in its own protected cove. The housetop where he stood overlooked much of the city, where caravans of men on horseback and camels continued to pour into the city from outlying Judean towns. The home the people of Hebron had prepared for him was a veritable palace compared to the tents and caves of his all too recent past. And now farmers carried to Hebron wheat and olive oil, pressed dates and figs, raisins and honey cakes, sheep and goats, all for the celebration that would accompany tomorrow’s coronation.
He stilled, moving his gaze from the busy workers in the city to the hills once again. Thick, billowy clouds rested atop the highest mount, bright white against the afternoon sun.
Adonai, my help comes from You.
Would he be a good king? He couldn’t bear to end up like Saul one day.
Please don’t take Your Holy Spirit from me.
He’d done his best to live a righteous life, though his foray into Philistine lands had taught him that he needed to remember to seek Adonai before rushing off to do things he thought best.
Cleanse me, O Lord, and keep me from presumptuous sins.
The sound of footsteps behind him pulled his gaze from the hills back to his current surroundings. Hushai the Archite, the man who had introduced David to his new home and had quickly endeared himself as an advisor, approached.
“My lord, the delegation from Judah seeks an audience with you to prepare for the ceremony tomorrow. Abiathar has some things he wishes to discuss with you as well.”
He nodded but found himself drawn once more to gaze over the city that had welcomed him with open arms, allowing the unguarded sense of peace to fill him—a feeling he had not known in a long, long time.
Voices drifted to him from below, from the courtyard of his wives. He took a glance at Ahinoam talking to her maid, the ever-protective hand resting over the place where his child lay. His child. A son, no doubt. The thought brought a smile to his lips. Adonai had blessed him and would continue to bless him.
He took two steps toward the stairs when he caught sight of Abigail sitting quietly in the small garden at the edge of the women’s court. Fabric was spread over her lap, and her hands moved with a precise rhythm, in and out. The scene made him pause. She had proven to be a great asset to him in the past two years, always seeking to encourage and uplift, keeping the women calm at times when they could have been a burden, enduring abuse on his account . . . He should have listened to her advice and never gone over to the Philistines. Then she would not have had to endure capture.
A sense of guilt threatened to mar his present peace. He had not been there for her as he’d hoped, hadn’t spent the time with her she needed, hadn’t comforted her the only way he knew how. She might have been the one to carry his first child if he had. Though if he were honest with himself, he would have given Michal the privilege if Yahweh had allowed it. If their child had lived.
“My lord?” He felt Hushai’s touch on his arm.
“I’m coming.” He pulled his gaze away from Abigail, vowing to somehow make it up to her.
The new home in Hebron came equipped with a number of spacious courtyards, with wide pillars supporting the roof of a large audience chamber. Men from all the towns in Judah numbered in the tens of thousands, spilling from the chamber to the outer courts to the streets and rooftops of their neighbors. The city bulged with life all the way to the surrounding hillsides outside Hebron’s city walls.
Feasting and music and dancing had commenced each night, and this night would be the culmination of their festivities. Abigail held a privileged view in the alcove next to David’s audience chamber, where a gilded throne awaited him. She tuned out the whispers of the women about her, focusing her gaze on the front entrance where David’s coming would be announced.
“This is so exciting!” Ahinoam spoke in her ear. “Did you think this day would ever come?”
Abigail threw her a sidelong glance. “I never doubted it.” God forgive her for the barb, but her rival’s attitude was becoming as prickly as an unwanted thorn.
“Well, of course you wouldn’t.”
Abigail didn’t miss the sarcasm but pushed it from her mind a moment later at the sound of the shofar. Flag bearers carrying the standard of Judah marched in rhythmic precision. They paused, waited for the shofar to sound again, and then moved forward three paces. Abiathar the priest entered the hall, wearing the priestly ephod. David emerged following the fanfare, wearing a simple white linen tunic and carrying a shepherd’s staff.
A hush fell over the crowd as David reached the step leading to the dais. Abiathar stopped above him and turned to face the people. David knelt before Abiathar and bowed his head.
“Praise be to Adonai, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, who has chosen you, David, son of Jesse, to be our king, to rule His people Israel in righteousness and justice. This day I anoint you king over the house of Judah.” Abiathar stepped to David’s side and lifted the horn of oil.
Abigail’s breath caught as she watched the contents of the jar flow out in a thin, amber stream over David’s bowed head. David’s face shone with a joy she had never seen from him before, and a moment later, as Abiathar prayed, David lifted his hands toward heaven, his lashes glistening with unshed tears.
When the prayer ended, Abiathar accepted the book of the law from a scribe and read, “When you enter the land Adonai your God is giving you, and have taken possession of it and settled in it, and you say, ‘Let us set a king over us like all the nations around us,’ be sure to appoint over you the king the Lord your God chooses. He must be from among your own brothers. Do not place a foreigner over you, one who is not a brother Israelite.”
Abigail listened with interest, watching David’s bowed head and hands clasped before him. Surely this time Adonai’s choice of David would prove better than the people’s choice of Saul.
“The king, moreover, must not acquire great numbers of horses for himself or make the people return to Egypt to get more of them, for Adonai has told you, ‘You are not to go back that way again.’ He must not take many wives, or his heart will be led astray. He must not accumulate large amounts of silver and gold.”
Abigail’s heart stirred with the mention of wives. Would David take more than the three he already had, once Michal was returned to him? Would they lead his heart away?
Please, Adonai, may I never lead David away from You.
“When he takes the throne of his kingdom, he is to write for himself on a scroll a copy of this law, taken from that of the priests, who are Levites. I
t is to be with him, and he is to read it all the days of his life so that he may learn to revere Adonai his God and follow carefully all the words of this law and these decrees and not consider himself better than his brothers and turn from the law to the right or to the left. Then he and his descendants will reign a long time over his kingdom in Israel.”
Abiathar handed the book back to the scribe as Benaiah brought the robe Abigail had fashioned for the new king and held it open for David to place his arms through the sleeves. Gold and green fig leaves adorned the purple fabric along the fringes near the sleeves and at the base near the ankles. A golden-fringed sash held the robe in place, and a gilded, jeweled crown was placed on David’s head.
“Long live King David!” Abiathar shouted, hands outstretched toward the people.
The shout repeated as one voice from the cheering crowd, over and over again, until David ascended the step where he had knelt and took the throne.
A lump formed in Abigail’s throat as she watched the humble, awed face of her husband. She moved slightly to get a better glimpse of him, her heart soaring when she caught his eye and his ready smile.
She leaned her head against the wall of the alcove and released a slow sigh. The day David had longed for had finally come to pass. He was king of Judah and soon would be king of all Israel. Life had already changed dramatically for her, for them, for their marriage. The question remained, what now?
How did a woman act as a wife to the king?
PART IV
The war between the house of Saul and the house of David lasted a long time. David grew stronger and stronger, while the house of Saul grew weaker and weaker.
2 Samuel 3:1
Then Joab returned from pursuing Abner and assembled all his men. Besides Asahel, nineteen of David’s men were found missing. But David’s men had killed three hundred and sixty Benjamites who were with Abner.
2 Samuel 2:30–31
Abigail (The Wives of King David Book #2): A Novel Page 20