Daughter of the King

by Faucheux, Sharon; Havel, Carlene;

  Abigail leaned against the wall, and adjusted a cushion behind her back. She put her needlework aside and continued her story with a far-away look in her eye, as if she had forgotten Michal and Bird were in the room. “My parents were strict, but loving. My brothers worked with our father, learning to farm and raise sheep. Mother taught her girls how to manage the household. It was she who oversaw the kitchen, supervised the servants, and kept the larders stocked. What we didn’t make, my mother struck deals to buy from merchants. She believed in hard work, honesty, and thrift. Nothing was wasted. I don’t know how she arranged to have spare time, but she did. In those hours, we sat together and talked while she taught me and my little sisters to weave.”

  “Abigail does beautiful work with colored yarns,” Bird chimed in.

  Abigail smiled at Bird and continued. “My favorite times were when we would go to Jerusalem for Passover in a caravan with other Carmelites. The children were allowed to walk if we wished, or ride in carts when we were tired. We played and sang songs along the way. The men told stories that kept us spellbound around the campfires. The year I was nine years old, a deadly sickness swept over the mountain. Half of our servants fell ill, then my father, my youngest sister, and four of my brothers. Mother and I nursed everyone as best we could. Then I came down with the sickness. I don’t know how long I was ill. I remember rousing slightly from time to time, and have vague recollections of my mother trickling soup down my throat or wiping my feverish forehead with cool water.”

  Abigail seemed near tears, but hardened her tone and went on, “Everyone seemed surprised when I awoke one morning and said I was hungry. My father snatched me into his arms and wept like an old woman. I didn’t understand why he was crying at the time, but soon I learned I was my parents’ only surviving child.”

  “How sad,” Michal said. She marveled at the undercurrent of heartbreak beneath the surface of lives that seemed perfectly placid. Perhaps Abigail could empathize with her own difficult past.

  “Nothing was ever the same again.” Abigail stood, walked to the doors that opened onto the courtyard, and leaned against the doorpost. “My mother never caught the sickness, but she was damaged more than anyone.” Abigail gently tapped the side of her forehead. “She told my father he should take another wife, a young woman who could return the laughter of children to our house.” She shook her head. “He said he didn’t have the heart for another wife, let alone more children. I missed my brothers and sisters terribly. I felt so alone without them.”

  Michal willed herself not to let the tears flow again, even though her heart ached to think of a little girl losing all her siblings.

  “In my childish way, I was able to go on,” Abigail continued. “My parents went through the motions of living, but they could not set aside their heartbreak. Mother sat under a tree and cried most days. I did what I could to pick up her household chores. My father turned what energy he had into finding me a suitable husband as soon as possible.”

  “Suitable indeed!” Bird interjected.

  Abigail turned her face toward the courtyard. “Father wanted to do what was best for me. If he had been as he was before the illness, I know he would have made different choices.” She sighed. “I was ten years old when he betrothed me to a repulsive old neighbor named Nabal. My father’s entire fortune was to be my dowry. Mother died that winter, of a broken heart I believe. When my father’s health began to fail, he pressed Nabal to take me as his wife immediately. I heard him promise my father he would not consummate the marriage until my bleeding began.” Her voice became almost inaudible. “But Nabal was not an honorable man.”

  Michal watched the other woman’s graceful movements as Abigail stepped back into the lounging area of the bedchamber and came to sit between Bird and Michal. She leaned against a brightly colored cushion. “My father passed quietly from this life to the next in his sleep one night. Nabal had sole possession of me and my father’s wealth.” Her eyes rested on Michal’s face. “And there was no family for me to turn to. I did my best to please my husband, but it was not possible. Immature as I was, I could see that Nabal’s affairs were in disarray. I devoted myself to the only task I knew, which was managing the household. Nothing was organized. My husband would make a rule, then curse or strike a servant who tried to obey it. For fourteen years, my life consisted of going behind Nabal’s back to apologize for his behavior, and putting up with his scorn for my failure to give him children. And then one day…”

  Michal’s mind strayed as Abigail’s story continued. Fourteen years, she thought. Twice as long as my time in Phaltiel’s house. Perhaps Abigail’s sympathy was genuine.

  “When I learned that Nabal had insulted David, I was frightened,” Abigail was saying. “I gathered the supplies my husband denied David’s men and set out, hoping once again to make amends. My servants and I met David not far from our farm. Sure enough, he was on his way to kill Nabal.” She smiled knowingly. “You know how David is when his hot temper overtakes him.”

  Bird and Michal nodded their heads in agreement.

  “I offered David the supplies I brought and anything else he and his men needed. That was their due, since they protected our shepherds and flocks. I tried to convince him not to kill Nabal in revenge, assuring him the satisfaction of taking one foolish, surly man’s life would not be worth the guilt he would then carry around forever. To my surprise he discussed the matter with me, instead of pushing me out of the way and pressing on. As we talked, I told David I believed him to be a man of destiny. Even though he would be justified in seeking revenge, killing Nabal was beneath the great warrior who slew Goliath.

  “David’s anger cooled, and he thought better of his plans. I was astonished when he thanked me not just for the supplies but also for what he called my ‘sage advice’.” Abigail sighed. “I took my time returning home, knowing Nabal would never believe I saved his life.”

  Abigail rubbed the back of her neck with one hand. “When I got home, Nabal was having a drunken party with some of his so-called friends. They were slothful men who hung around with Nabal for the free liquor he dispensed. I waited until the next morning to confess what I did. Nabal was furious. His face bright red, he cursed and raised his arm as if to strike me. Then he fell back onto his bed, clutched at his chest, and said he couldn’t breathe. A healing servant, a midwife, and I did what we could, but in a few days Nabal was dead.” She raked her bottom teeth across her top lip. “I was terrified about my future. Nabal had a worthless servant who let it be known he planned to force me into a marriage in order to gain possession of Nabal’s flocks and land. Most of the wealth was my father’s, of course, but that didn’t mean I could control anything of value. It was only a matter of time before the servant, one of Nabal’s kinsmen or some other unscrupulous man would come for me.”

  Before continuing, Abigail shifted onto her back on Michal’s luxurious cushions. She folded her hands across her abdomen and stared up at the ceiling. “I prayed as I’ve never prayed before,” she said. “Although I didn’t know what to ask for other than God’s help. The next morning, as I feared, one of my handmaids reported that some strange men wanted to see me. I went to greet them, scared to death I would be abducted. What a relief it was to realize my visitors were some of David’s men. I assumed they needed more supplies. It took a while for them to convince me they were there on behalf of their master, Lord David, who wanted me to be his wife. It was clearly an invitation, not a demand.” She stood again, and began to pace the floor.

  “I have never been impulsive. But that day, I seized my one chance to live life as a wife instead of a slave. As soon as David’s servants left, I told a few trusted handmaids I was leaving the house for good within the hour. They begged to go with me. How could I refuse? I told the women they could go along, provided they told no one else what was happening. Each of us saddled our donkey, and took one small bundle each—our clothes, a little food, a few shekels. Nothing else. We sneaked out of the stable one at a
time, leading the donkeys. We walked until we were well away from the house.” Abigail smiled triumphantly. “Then we jumped on the donkeys and rode those poor beasts mercilessly.”

  She shifted her back against the cushion nearest Michal and Bird, and continued her story. “For the first time ever I was without luxuries, but it was the happiest time of my life.” Abigail rested her hand lightly on Michal’s arm. “I could see how painful David’s memories were. There seemed to be so little I could do to ease his burden. When he spoke of you, Michal, his hearty laugh would leave him and he would go into the wilderness alone for hours.” Abigail pulled back her hand and locked her arms under her knees. “One by one my maids came and asked my blessing on their marriage. I asked David to take an additional wife, not only to relieve me of some of the household chores, but also to bring children into our home.” She chuckled slightly. “By then I was twenty-six and certain I would never be blessed with a child.”

  “Would anyone else like some bread?” Bird asked, breaking off a generous portion for herself.

  Michal shook her head.

  “No, thank you. It wasn’t long,” Abigail said, “before David brought Bird home. That was just before we moved to Philistine territory.”

  “You lived with the Philistines?” Michal was surprised.

  “Yes,” Bird said, before Abigail could react. “We lived at Ziklag a little over a year. That was an adventure, I’ll tell you for sure. You don’t know the meaning of the word heathen until you’ve lived among the Philistine foreigners for a while.”

  “You were actually in their midst?” How utterly unthinkable!

  “Only Hebrews lived in Ziklag proper,” Abigail assured her. “But Philistines were all around us. We traded goods with their women, and our men were loosely attached to their army. Our contact was limited, but neither group treated the other as an enemy.”

  “I wouldn’t say that,” Bird objected. “What about the time they burned Ziklag to the ground and took us prisoner?”

  “Those were Amalekites, Bird, not Philistines.” Abigail’s voice was gentle.

  “What’s the difference?” Bird insisted. “They’re all foreigners. Worthless heathen dogs, every one of them.”

  “You two were captured by Amalekites?” Michal shuddered. “How horrible! How did you manage to get away from them?”

  Bird broke into a huge grin and stated the obvious, “Michal, you don’t know the story of the Amalekite raid on Ziklag!”

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY

  “SO DAVID AND HIS MEN CAME TO THE CITY, AND, BEHOLD, IT WAS BURNED WITH FIRE; AND THEIR WIVES, AND THEIR SONS, AND THEIR DAUGHTERS, WERE TAKEN CAPTIVES. …BUT DAVID ENCOURAGED HIMSELF IN THE LORD HIS GOD. …AND DAVID RECOVERED ALL THAT THE AMALEKITES HAD CARRIED AWAY: AND DAVID RESCUED HIS TWO WIVES.” I SAMUEL 30:3, 6, 18

  “Our men left with the Philistine Army, headed north toward Jezreel,” Bird said. “I guess they wanted to wreck some poor farmer’s fields with yet another battle in my home valley. It was the first time after our marriage that David had gone to war, leaving Abigail and me alone in the house. I was just about to go to the well for water, when Abigail yelled, ‘Ahinoam, come here immediately!’”

  Bird smiled. “I thought how Abigail had been so nice to me as long as David was home, and now all of a sudden she’s ordering me around. I took my time responding, just to show I could be independent. When I got inside the house, Abigail was shaking. She grabbed me and said she saw a group of strange men sneaking into the city. ‘Probably Philistines looking to trade for lambskins or produce,’ I said. I was so skinny back then.” Bird sighed and patted her waist with both hands, causing her ample belly to jiggle.

  “Anyway, Abigail reminded me the Philistine army was up north, along with our men. Ziklag was just a bunch of dwellings, really. We didn’t have a city wall, or any fortifications to speak of. Still, I was sure nobody was going to attempt any mischief in David’s stronghold. Little did I know!”

  “Michal, can I get you anything?” Abigail asked. “Some fresh water, perhaps?”

  “I’m fine.” She managed to smile in appreciation for the thoughtfulness of her companion. “But I am interested in the rest of the Ziklag story.”

  “Of course.” Bird rolled her big brown eyes in Abigail’s direction. “The first thing Abigail had to do was get everything organized.” Both women smiled. “She told me to go on to the well and pass the word there might be dangerous foreigners about. Which, what else would there be in the middle of Philistine country? Anyhow, I did what Abigail said. I told the women I ran into to let their neighbors know what Abigail saw—or thought she saw—and whatever happened not to panic. Now all this time, I was as calm as a desert night. I kind of wondered if Abigail was trying to stir things up so she would look important.”

  “Bird!” Abigail exclaimed.

  “Well, I didn’t really know you then, Abigail. So anyway,” Bird continued, “I went back to the house. As soon as I got inside, off in the distance I heard the most horrible scream. May I never hear such a sound again as long as I live. All of a sudden, I realized this was real, and we were in serious danger. There was dead silence for about five heartbeats, and then I heard all kinds of yelling, men’s voices as well as women’s. ‘God help us,’ I shouted, ‘we’re under attack!’ I was a mess,” Bird confessed. “I started crying and looking for a place to hide. But Abigail, she was a rock. She made me put on my most comfortable shoes, and an extra layer of clothes as quick as I could.” Bird chuckled. “She had bloodied some rags with pigeon blood, and swaddled me up like it was my time of bleeding.”

  Bird’s eyes glistened. “We didn’t have time to hide any of our belongings before those hideous foreigners broke in and grabbed us. You wouldn’t believe how foul they smelled! They stank like they’d never had a bath in their lives. They pushed everybody out of their houses and herded us into a pasture. A few guards stood around us, while the main group of foreigners took their time going through every house. I saw that it wouldn’t have mattered if we hid things. They took it all. They tore through everything—breaking pottery, pulling the stuffing out of our bedding. It was horrible. I watched in terror until Abigail sidled up to me and said, ‘Ahinoam, I know you’re scared, but you have to hush crying and start acting like the wife of Lord David. Help me get everyone ready before the rest of the Amalekites come back for us.’ While the foreigners looted Ziklag, Abigail put us to work.” Bird nodded affirmatively.

  “Abigail made sure there was a helper assigned to each mother with more than one baby. Several women had extra clothes that we twisted up to make slings for carrying the little children. We shared what food we had, eating some and keeping the rest hidden away for later. The older wives got together and worked out our ground rules. A few of them were captives before. No one was to be separated from the others or to willingly go anywhere alone. We were to be absolutely defiant, but in a sneaky way. No taunting, no spitting, but also no cooperation. We were supposed to act like we didn’t understand anything the foreigners told us. And movement of the group away from Ziklag was to be as slow as we could make it. We decided to break plants and twigs and leave as much of a trail as we could without getting caught at it.”

  Bird shook her head again. “Little children and mothers with babies were always to be surrounded by older girls and boys, then the senior wives. The old women who were still hearty made up the outer rim of every group.” Poking Abigail with an elbow, Bird continued. “Do you remember how creative people were? One woman used henna to paint splotches on her pretty teenaged daughter, to make it look like the girl had some kind of skin disease.” A sad shadow passed across Bird’s pretty face. “With everything set up as best we could, we sat in the pasture while Ziklag burned to the ground. To keep ourselves from mourning, we sang a psalm.”

  Bird began to sing softly. “The Lord is my light and my salvation.” Michal and Abigail joined in. “Whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be
afraid?” Abigail stopped after drifting wildly off tune, but Bird and Michal sang all the way through the song, ending with, “Wait, I say, on the Lord.”

  “You know all the words!” Bird seemed surprised.

  “Yes. I thought about that psalm often when I was at Gallim. There was a rock by a stream where I could occasionally go and be alone.” Michal stopped herself. This was no time to allow her former life to intrude. “I still don’t know how you got away from the Amalekites.”

  “David rescued us,” Abigail said in her matter-of-fact way.

  Bird picked up her story, ignoring Abigail’s comment. “It was late in the afternoon before the foreign dogs had all their stolen loot packed. It was hard to tell who was in charge, but after a lot of loud talking, they must have decided to wait until morning to start on the journey south. We slept sitting up, huddled together against the cold night air, taking turns with one woman always awake. I don’t know what we thought we would do if the foreigners started something, but we kept watch anyway. One day was gone, and we hadn’t left our home base yet. The old women said that was a good sign. I figured we would be on the road at daybreak, but the foreigners were a lazy bunch. Or maybe it was the amount of stolen wine they put away the night before. Anyway, by the time they were ready to go and got us moving, it was almost noon. So we started walking, while the foreigners rode horses and camels. In the evening the foreigners cooked and ate meat right in front of us, and gave us nothing. Not that we wanted to eat, or even smell any of their food. They would rub their full bellies and laugh, making sport of us.”

  “I’m surprised they didn’t do much worse things to you,” Michal ventured.

  “Well...” Bird rolled her eyes. “There was obvious fussing among the foreigners. Zillah, one of our people who understood a little of their language told us there was a big row going on over who got what, especially who owned the women. One group wanted to have a great big orgy then and there. The others wanted to keep the virgins intact so they could get more money when they sold them into slavery.”