Abigail (The Wives of King David Book #2): A Novel

by Jill Eileen Smith

  David, dressed head to toe in regal attire, strode into the room behind his flag bearers and bodyguards into the open area of the court, his presence commanding. The crowd cheered as David strode to where the priests Zadok and Abiathar stood. An alabaster flask of cinnamon-scented oil was in Zadok’s hand. Several paces away near the front of the court, roped off to keep people from defiling the place, a new altar stood. Seven bleating rams waited nearby, and Abigail’s heart squeezed at their pitiful cries.

  The trumpets ceased, and as Zadok raised his hands, an awed hush fell over the crowd. He looked up to face the people, a mass of men and women that extended from David’s court to the front gate of the king’s house, into the streets, onto the rooftops, and as far as Abigail could see.

  “Hear the word of the Lord,” Zadok cried, arms still lifted toward the heavens. His white garments glistened in the morning sun, and a smile poked from beneath his dark brown beard. He was a solemn man, short yet strong, and a recent addition to David’s household. His dark eyes were alight with joy. But then, when had there ever been such a joyous day in Israel?

  “When you come to the land Adonai your God is giving you, and possess it and dwell in it, and say, ‘I will set a king over me like all the nations that are around me . . .’ ”

  Abigail looked at David, wondering what he was thinking. She was only able to see him from the side, but his solemn look struck her as undeniably humble in the face of such grandeur, and his sense of awe made her wish once again that he belonged only to her. How easy it was to love him!

  When the speech ended, David knelt before the priest, head bowed. Zadok lifted the oil and poured it over David’s head until it dripped into his beard and onto the collar of his robe. A smile crossed his handsome face until the trumpet sounded again and the people shouted, “Long live King David!”

  Abigail cut a glance from David to Chileab, her heart yearning for husband and son. What she wouldn’t give to wrap them both in her arms right now, even as her own voice lifted with the crowd, praising the king.

  David stood and raised his hands to silence the crowd. “Your throne, O God, will last forever and ever. A scepter of justice will be the scepter of Your kingdom.” His gaze slid heavenward, then with a look of utter joy and compassion, he turned in a circle to encompass all those in attendance. “Establish Your servant, O Lord, over Your people, to rule in righteousness and justice.”

  He looked then to Zadok and Abiathar and nodded. The priests led the way to the altar where the seven rams waited. David placed his hand on one young bull to offer as a sin offering, symbolizing his need of forgiveness. David bowed his head again as Zadok prayed then slit the bull’s throat. Abiathar caught the blood and sprinkled it on the altar, then the bull’s flesh was placed there to burn as an offering to Yahweh.

  Tears pricked Abigail’s eyes as the rest of the sin and fellowship offerings were presented to the Lord. It had been so long—years, in fact—since all of the people had been led to obey the laws of Adonai. Too long since she had made atonement for her own sins.

  The bitterness she tried so often to suppress toward David rushed to the surface of her thoughts. Seeing him now, humble and bowed before his God, she felt her heart constrict. David would make a good king, a great king. He was not a perfect man, but he knew how to repent with a contrite heart.

  Did she? How long had she already harbored such resentment?

  She glanced at her sister wives, feeling a check in her spirit. Ahinoam had been David’s only wife when Abigail came to him after Nabal’s death. If she had refused to marry David, would he have found it so easy to take a fourth and a fifth and a sixth and a seventh wife? She was the one who had made him into a husband with two wives, for who could count Michal at that point? Even David had never expected to get her back. Had he?

  Tension knotted her shoulders, her thoughts accusing her. You knew better. The other women had come to David at their fathers’ behest, whereas she had come of her own accord, knowing he already had a wife, knowing she would be the one to open the door to more women in the future. Sweat drew a line along her brow, and her cheeks flushed with warmth coming not from the sun’s oppressive heat but from the shame deep within.

  A trumpet blared, announcing the end of the sacrifices. More speeches followed as David ascended the throne prepared for him and the men of Israel bowed at his feet to pledge their allegiance.

  Abigail’s head spun as she tried to focus on the things her heart told her were true. All of her jealousies, all of her bitter resentment toward David’s other wives—they were her own doing. If she had restrained her own desire, her own desperate need for love, had not given in to his lure and charm . . . She could have refused to marry him. Instead, she had made it all the easier for him to take more women to wife. And she had done so without thought of the consequence.

  O Adonai, please forgive me.

  Remorse clung to her, an unwashed stain upon her heart. She longed to undo the past, to fix what she could no longer touch, to return to better days.

  Voices of men praising the king drowned out the voices of reason in her head. Chileab’s quiet cry snapped her thoughts back to her surroundings.

  “Stop pushing me.” Chileab’s gaze rested on his younger brother Absalom, who had managed to wedge his way between Chileab and Amnon.

  “It’s my turn. I want to see Abba.” Absalom’s confident insistence, as though the place between his older brothers was rightfully his, mimicked his arrogant mother’s overconfidence too well.

  Abigail took a step forward, wishing for an excuse to distract her tumultuous thoughts. She intended to pull Chileab away from his brothers and escape the hot room and noisy crowd, but the children’s maids got to them first and hurried them from the audience chamber. Defeat settled over her. She closed her eyes, willing it away, and searched for the good of the moment, the joy that was evident all around her.

  It would be rude to leave, and she didn’t dare anger David on such a day. Still, she was more determined than ever to leave the oppression and intrigue of the king’s household, to live away from the gossiping, grasping women who vied for his attention. She would give him one less wife to trouble himself with. If he would allow it, she would simply take Chileab and go to live with her father and Talya and Micah. He might even enjoy having a place to come to, away from the trappings of royalty—a place of peace.

  She drew in a breath and let it slowly release. The royal entourage finally moved from the audience chamber, and Abigail followed the guards to the banquet hall. If she could catch David’s eye, perhaps he would visit her again soon, and when he did, she would do what she could to make things right.

  37

  Three days into the feasting, David stood on his roof overlooking the women’s courtyard. Many of the warriors of Israel had returned to their homes, but the town of Hebron and some men from various tribes remained. The celebration would last seven days, and he had determined to give each night to one wife with a little extra time to spend with the children. He thought they would be pleased, glad to be with him, and happy that the kingdom had finally come together in peace.

  He glimpsed Michal’s apartment, disappointment nipping at him. She had come when he called, but the meeting he’d envisioned was not what he’d gotten.

  “You wanted to see me, my lord?” She’d stood before him dressed in ornate, gilded robes, as though letting him know once again where she stood in relation to his other wives. The thought grated, but he squelched his irritation in the desire to be with her again. So much had come between them.

  He moved across the room to where she waited stiff and wary. He gently gripped her shoulders and pulled her close.

  “I thought to share the joy of celebration with you.” He kissed her nose and pulled back, searching her dark eyes. “Adonai has finally brought the kingdom together again, beloved. We have much to praise Him for.”

  She turned her cheek to his kiss, raising his ire. He released his hold on her and to
ok a step back. “Disdain is unbecoming to you, Michal.”

  Her gaze snapped to his at that, and her eyes flashed with what he deduced was anger. But the fleeting look soon softened, as though she thought better of her actions. He allowed himself to relax and motioned her to sit with him among the cushions of his couch.

  He sat near her and brushed his fingers along her arm. “What can I give you, Michal? How can I bring pleasure to your heart this glorious day?” Though in truth, he wasn’t sure why her smile did not already reach her eyes. The dream they had both longed for in the early days of their marriage had finally been realized. What more could she want? Though he already knew the answer and prayed she wouldn’t ask it again.

  “You could give me a son and make me your queen. There is nothing more I want from you, David.”

  He should have known better than to ask.

  “You know my answer to that already, Michal. Am I in the place of God to give you a son? And without an heir, how could I make you queen?” He shook his head and put distance between them.

  The rest of the evening had been a test in patience as she lamented Abner and Ishbosheth, and if he had allowed it, she probably would have bemoaned her no-good usurping husband Paltiel. He could not undo what had happened to her, but he didn’t have to listen to her complaints or comparisons either. He’d finally sent her back to her rooms without the benefit of sharing his bed. Her demeanor had made her desires abundantly clear, and he balked at her insistent demands.

  He had uselessly hoped Ahinoam would be different, but the next evening had proved even worse.

  “You really should declare an heir now that Adonai has established the kingdom in your hands, my lord,” she’d said, after the night had waned and dawn found her nestled in his arms. “Since Amnon is your firstborn, he would seem the logical choice, don’t you agree?”

  He’d been forced to grit his teeth against a bitter retort about the way she was raising his firstborn. Though the boy was only seven, he was often sulky and selfish, reminding him too much of David’s older brother Eliab. If David had to relinquish the throne to one of his sons this moment, his choice would not be Amnon.

  His jaw clenched now at the memories, and his fists clamped together until his nails dug into his palms. He drew in a breath and closed his eyes, willing his anger to abate. The sun still warmed the edge of the western foothills. Soon it would be time to visit Abigail and Chileab. The thought filled him with longing and hope that this wife would not set a list of demands before him but would simply welcome him with joy. No doubt Chileab would be happy to see him, and though the sight of the boy’s withered arm always brought a stab of pain to his heart, he was genuinely glad to see that this son would not be spoiled like Amnon or too charming for his own good like Absalom. Would the people accept a maimed king?

  He shook his head, dismissing the thought, then glanced at the sky and followed the voices to the women’s court once again. They would gather to greet him soon, but he was not in the mood to be hammered with questions tonight. He would go to Abigail, and for tonight he would pretend he was a lowly shepherd with one wife and son and worry about pleasing the rest of them tomorrow.

  Abigail heard the knock before Rosah did, but Chileab beat them both to the door. David entered her rooms dressed in a simple robe more reminiscent of their life in the desert foothills than of his recently appointed role as king. He looked hopeful and at peace when he smiled at her, yet there were dark shadows beneath his eyes and a wary glint in their depths.

  “Abba, come see what I made today.” Chileab grasped David’s fingers with his good hand and tugged him toward a table where mosaic tiles were spread out and an image was taking shape in a wooden frame. “I added the tree and two birds, see?”

  David bent over the table to examine his son’s work, a simple reconstruction of the things he’d seen in nature, then straightened and smiled. “You did a fine job.” He ruffled Chileab’s dark hair. “You are a gifted artist, my son.”

  Chileab beamed at the high praise, and Abigail’s heart swelled with pride. She settled on the couch to listen to the exchange between her husband and son, feet tucked beneath her robe. Already she imagined how it might be if David could get away to be with them like this more often—away from the bickering of the other women. She smiled to herself, barely able to contain her excitement at presenting her idea, and prayed he would agree.

  “How was your day?” Abigail asked when Chileab had finally tired and Rosah had put him to bed.

  David leaned against the couch and stretched his hands behind his head, looking at her. “Long,” he said at last, his muscular chest lifting in a sigh. “It is a wonderful feast, though, and the people seem glad to have it extend for a week. We will soon reinstate the feasts Adonai initiated long ago, celebrations we have neglected in our disregard of Him.”

  She smiled, pleased with the direction of his thoughts. “It is good to see you finally realize the dreams Yahweh placed on your heart, David. As you lead the people back to true worship, you will unite them and give them a kingdom of peace.”

  He moved his arms to rest along the back of the couch. “Yes, peace. Once we subdue our enemies and take back the territory that Adonai deeded to us, then the kingdom will know peace. I’m not sure I will see that peace in my lifetime, but surely the one who reigns after me will.” His tender look warmed her. “I only wish Chileab would have been that man.”

  The reminder pricked her soul, but when she searched his face, she saw no reprimand there, only resigned sadness. “I’m sorry too, my lord. But apparently it wasn’t meant to be.”

  “Apparently not.”

  Silence settled between them then, silence born of understanding and acceptance. She took courage in his subdued mood and rose from her chair to sit beside him, taking his hand in hers. He lifted one eyebrow but seemed pleased with her boldness, an amused tilt to his mouth as though he wanted to smile but wouldn’t.

  “David . . .”

  He nodded, acknowledging that she should continue, but held his tongue.

  “I know you would like nothing better than to live in peace, and I fully agree. And I know that we, your wives, are often a greater trial to you than some of the enemies you fight in battle.”

  He allowed the smile to show through at that. “An interesting observation.”

  She met his smile with one of her own. “Yes, well, I know that at times I have been no better than the others, and I will admit, it is not easy to share a man you love with all your heart.”

  His eyes softened, his look tender. He seemed as though he would speak, but then he nodded for her to continue.

  “I’ve been thinking about the situation, my lord, and I don’t have a ready solution to keep the women from complaining short of cutting out our tongues—which I would not recommend, for then you would never hear the good things we have to say either.” She didn’t want to give him any bad ideas!

  “That thought is tempting.” He chuckled, and she slowly relaxed, releasing a breath. Sometimes the idea seemed like it wasn’t such a bad one where Maacah and Ahinoam were concerned.

  “What I have thought of was a solution that might please us both . . . and be good for Chileab since he cannot do as much as the other boys and is sometimes bullied by Amnon and Absalom.”

  His brow quirked again, and she inwardly kicked herself for mentioning something that could distress him. But if it brought his attention to see things her way, perhaps it was worth the risk.

  “Just say it, Abigail. What is it you want me to do?”

  Her heart sank. She had tried to present this to him in a positive way, and already he was weary of the exchange. She stifled the urge to sigh and instead clasped both of her hands around his and kissed his signet ring.

  “I would like you to allow Chileab and me to live away from this house, to move back with my father and Talya. Abba could be a good help to Chileab, to teach him things you do not have time to do, and he would be a companion to Micah.
Talya and I could care for Abba in his old age, and we would make the place a sanctuary for you to come whenever you needed to get away. We would be free of the bickering and squabbling here, which always troubles Chileab’s gentle spirit, and you would have a home where there was peace. It would mean one less wife to worry about.” She inwardly flinched at how that sounded. “Not that you do not provide a fine home for us, my lord, just that—”

  He held up his free hand to silence her. “You’ve made your point.” He looked at her for the longest moment, but she could not read his expression. He was becoming a master at disguising his emotions, only letting her glimpse his inner self when he wanted her to see his thoughts. That saddened her because she wanted to share every part of his life, but she understood his need to protect himself from those who would seek his ruin. Kings had many enemies. Even beloved kings.

  “I’ve offended you.” She spoke the words as a statement, though she meant it as a question and longed to hear him say it wasn’t true.

  “You have asked me to allow my dearest wife to move away from my protection, out of my home, to go back to her father. You want to take my beloved son from me so that your father can raise him because I am too busy or perhaps unfit to teach him. You cannot live with the turmoil of my house because you blame me for taking more women to my bed and you hate having to share my love. Yet you love me with all your heart.” He pulled his hand from her grasp and adjusted the signet ring. For a moment he studied it, then her. “If loving me with all your heart means leaving me, you do not understand the meaning of the word.” He stood then, clearly agitated, and walked to the door.

  How had he taken what she said and twisted it so? This was not what she intended at all!

  He opened the door, then turned to face her again. “You want to leave? Then go! Have your things packed by morning.” He whirled about, stepped across the threshold, and slammed the door behind him.