Abigail (13 page)

His hands clenched in and out, and he swallowed back the barrage of questions he longed to fling at her. No, she had come out of loyalty, and perhaps she did have a point. It would not bode well for David if he shed blood without cause.

The thought cooled the heat rushing through him, and he maneuvered past a handful of men to David’s side. “So we’re turning back, my lord?” He knew the answer, but a part of him wanted to hear it confirmed. Perhaps David could be persuaded to kill only Nabal.

“Yes,” David said, his gaze still fixed on Abigail. “She is the man’s wife?”

“Yes, my lord. Abigail is my sister as well.”

The words brought David’s head around to meet Daniel’s gaze. “Truly?” He looked as though he would say more, then turned away to look in Abigail’s direction again.

“She is trapped in a marriage to an evil man. Forgive me for saying so, my lord, but killing Nabal . . . I wanted to free her from it.”

A muscle worked in David’s jaw, his face grim. Abigail stood beside her donkey as though she was in no hurry to mount. “Unfortunate,” he said at last. He took two steps forward, then stopped and turned to Daniel. “See that she makes it safely down the mountain.”

Daniel hesitated, weighing whether to speak again, to try to convince David to let him kill Nabal. If Nabal were dead . . . But he could not act on that thought. He would be guilty before God, and Abigail would never forgive him for it, even if it was in her best interest.

He moved away from David to Abigail’s side. “Abigail, my sister.”

She jumped as though startled and faced him. “Daniel!” In the next instant she flung herself into his arms, and he was half afraid she would start to sob, as his wife Talya did now and then. But she pulled back a moment later and held him at arm’s length, smiling into his eyes, relief flooding her face. “I had so hoped to see you here. Is Father with you? How are Mother and Talya? It’s been so long . . .” Her voice trailed off, and she stole a glance behind him.

“Father stayed with the baggage.” He noted the soft blush on her cheeks. Or was it the warmth of the sun? He glanced in the direction of her gaze and saw David still standing where he had left him, watching them.

“You’ve caught his interest,” Daniel whispered. “If you had only let us kill that lout of a husband of yours—”

Her gaze snapped to his, sudden fire in her eyes. “Don’t say such things, Daniel! You know only Yahweh has the power of life and death. If Nabal were an enemy such as the Philistines, then you would be justified, but he is just a foolish man. Besides, I have given you what you asked for. Please, do not risk harm on my account. Nabal is powerful and supports King Saul. He would kill you himself or have you killed if you even tried to harm him.”

“Not if I killed him first! Do you think we are weak-kneed women?” He couldn’t stop the venom in his tone. The last thing he needed was for his sister to berate him in front of David’s men.

She blanched, and a stricken look crossed her face. “You know I do not think you are weak, Daniel.” She bent her head, her voice low, her shoulders drooping in a sudden gesture of defeat. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you going to help your sister mount so she can go home before nightfall, or do I have to do so myself?” David’s voice came from behind, startling them both. Daniel turned, but not before he caught the soft gasp from Abigail and glimpsed the definite blush on her cheeks.

“We were just catching up on things, my lord,” Daniel said, hurrying to cover the sudden feeling of embarrassment. “She asked about my wife and our parents.” He looked from David to Abigail. “She hasn’t seen them in over a year.”

“Then we will have to arrange a meeting for her.” David took the donkey’s reins and nodded to Daniel. He seemed anxious to have her go, though his eyes couldn’t seem to leave her face.

Daniel settled Abigail on her donkey’s back, but it was David who guided the animal. He turned it for the trek down the mountain, then handed her the reins. Five male servants, four on foot and one on another gray donkey, joined her.

“We’ll return the animals to you once we have taken the food to our camp,” David said, standing beside her as though unable to walk away. “Perhaps we can send your father and Daniel . . . if it’s safe.” He put a hand on the donkey’s mane. “Is it safe?” The look he gave her was one of deep concern, and Daniel knew David had not missed a sentence of their conversation. He knew she was returning to a foolish, evil man.

“Thank you,” she said, but Daniel did not miss the glint of worry in her eyes. “The donkeys would be missed.”

As would the food she had taken. How closely was she watched? Did Nabal check her every move? The thought sent a chill through him.

“Is it safe, Abigail?” David’s use of her given name brought Daniel’s thoughts into sharper focus. It wasn’t safe at all. Especially for her. He moved closer, wanting to yank her from the donkey and whisk her back to camp with them. Let Nabal just try to take her from them. He would be more than happy to slit the man’s throat.

“I will not tell Nabal of our meeting tonight. He will be too drunk to notice.” Her words seemed to appease David, but Daniel was not so easily convinced. Should he follow her home, wait in the shadows, and kill Nabal on his bed?

“Then go in peace.”

Daniel heard David’s words above the thoughts tumbling in his head. As David stepped away from his sister’s side, Daniel moved in and grasped her hand. “Be careful, Abigail.” He looked at her, but her gaze merely lighted on his, then turned back to the road.

“Pray for me, Daniel.” She kicked the donkey’s sides and trotted ahead without him.

Abigail returned to the house, hurried to her rooms, and changed back into a fresh, less ornamented robe. She was fairly numb with worry. She would not tell Nabal what she’d done. Not tonight. That much of what she had told David was true. But she would have to tell Nabal the truth tomorrow when the wine went out of him. Otherwise, when he went about his obsessive tasks of counting his wealth, he would find the missing food and blame the servants. She could not have them suffer on her account.

She leaned against the cool limestone wall inside her bedchamber and drew in a long, slow breath. Her life could be over soon. An involuntary shiver shook her from head to toe, and all energy seeped from her like oil through a press. Indeed, she did feel squeezed from every side, torn between loyalty to her family and loyalty to the man she had married. How naive she had been to think she could change him.

The scent of roasted lamb came through the open window, and the curtains fluttered in the cool evening breeze. She smoothed both hands on her gown, stopping at her middle, at the place where a child should lie. Her one regret in all of this was that she had never borne a son. Would Nabal have treated her differently if she had? Could she have earned his affection then? Or was she barren out of fear of him?

Shouts and rowdy laughter mingled with the music coming from the direction of the front courtyard. Nabal and his shepherds would sit around the court on the limestone benches while servants offered them wine and cheese and washed their feet. They would be inebriated before they ever proceeded to the hall where a banquet awaited. Abigail closed her eyes and prayed for strength. Somehow she had to get through this night without a word of what she had done. Could she trust Zahara to keep quiet about it all?

A sliver of doubt troubled her spirit, and she fell to her knees in prayer, hands raised to the only one who could help her now. She rose moments later, her heart strangely at rest, though she knew the peace was only temporary. She stepped into the hall and made her way to the kitchens to finish overseeing the feast. She would stay away from the drunken men and hope that Nabal would not call for her until she could slip back here to sleep in one final night of peace.

16

David picked at a new tune on his lyre as he sat near the fire pit at the mouth of the cave he shared with Ahinoam, his advisors, and their families. His men congregated in groups, some with their wives and children, others playing games together, all satisfied and happy with the gifts that had come from Abigail’s hand. David lifted his gaze from the strings, catching a glimpse of Ahinoam where she sat spinning wool and conversing with several women. They were probably filling her ears with complaints for her to bring to his attention again, or giving her more to worry about than she needed. His jaw clenched at the thought and his hands tightened on the frame of the lyre. Would Abigail be so fearful, so easily swayed by the worries of women?

He looked away from his wife and sighed. He bent his head back over his instrument and tried to force a song into his thoughts. But all he could see was a picture of the woman whose beauty had held him spellbound, whose words had kept him from shedding innocent blood. Why did she have to be another man’s wife?

You already have a wife—two, in fact.
But kings took many wives. And God had promised him the kingdom . . . someday. He glanced up to see Judah and Daniel, Abigail’s father and brother, approach. His hands stilled on the lyre, and he set it at his feet as they took the empty seats beside him.

“Please don’t stop the music on our account, my lord.” Judah’s mellow voice reminded David of his own father, warming him to the man.

“The song would not come, so it is best to set it aside for now.” He smiled at the older man, studying him in a new light. The man’s debt must have been great indeed to cause him to give his beautiful, intelligent daughter to a man such as Nabal. Either that or he’d been deluded somehow. “What can I do for you?” No one ever came to him without a reason, without wanting something.

“At the moment, nothing. We were just discussing how we might help my Abigail.” Judah sank to the stone seat with the agility of a much younger man, but his eyes bespoke a man who had struggled often and suffered much.

“Help her how? She is under the care of her husband now. She is not your worry.” David stretched his legs out in front of him and crossed them at the ankles, folding his arms over his chest. The other men did not need to know that his thoughts had also been on Judah’s amazing daughter.

“A man never stops worrying about a child, especially a daughter . . . especially when that man is responsible for her marriage to a fool.” The pain of choices past took residence in Judah’s gaze. He rubbed one hand over his graying beard and released a sigh that spoke of deep, personal defeat.

“I suppose not.” David uncrossed his arms and studied his hands. He looked up and met Judah’s gaze. “Do you want to tell me about it?” He would offer once, and though his curiosity wanted to demand answers, he would not pry. A man’s business was his own.

Judah clasped his hands in his lap, his gaze focused downward. “I won’t burden you with the details, David.” He looked up. “Suffice it to say that my father’s debt was passed down to me. We were servants of Simon, Nabal’s father, my whole life. The debt continued down to Daniel and Abigail until Simon offered me the chance to be released from the debt. He’d seen Abigail’s beauty and somehow hoped her righteous spirit would rub off on his son. All I had to do was betroth Abigail to the young man. I knew Nabal was a bit of a rogue, but I did not realize just how mean-spirited he could be. When Daniel finally convinced me to seek to put an end to the marriage, it was too late. Nabal somehow got wind of my desire, announced his intention to come for her, then stole her away. He took her to the marriage tent without witnesses or the priest’s blessing, and there was nothing I could do.”

David’s hands clenched into tight fists at Judah’s words, until he reminded himself that he couldn’t fix the man’s past. He straightened and placed both hands on his knees, unable to keep the fire of indignation from filling him. “If Israel had practiced the Year of Jubilee as God intended, your debt would have been canceled. Your daughter would not have been forced to pay your debt.”

“Yes, my lord, but that practice is a mere memory, a tradition of fable. No one considers it important anymore, if they ever did.”

“We shall remedy that one day.” David ran a hand down the back of his neck. “But of course, that does not help you now.”

“Short of Nabal’s death, I fear there is nothing I can do to help my Abigail.” Judah’s stricken look sent a pang to David’s heart.

“If she would have let me kill the fool, we could have brought her here. I’m sure any number of men would find her to be a fine wife.” Daniel’s impassioned words matched the heat in his gaze. “But she wouldn’t let me touch him.”

David courted a smile. “She’s a bit headstrong, is she?” He watched a look of embarrassment accompany a blush across Daniel’s strong features. “Don’t worry, my friend, I understand the trial of dealing with opinionated women.”

Daniel visibly relaxed and smiled at David in return. “My sister knows her own mind, but she is also loyal and obedient. She is a better wife than Nabal deserves.”

“So you’ve said.” David looked beyond him, his gaze resting briefly on Ahinoam, who still sat with the women, spinning wool and listening to their chatter. Why couldn’t she be more like this sister Daniel was so quick to defend? “If you’re suggesting we send someone to kill her husband, I’m afraid I can’t oblige you. I’ve given the woman my word.”