Abigail (20 page)

Moonlight created dancing shadows over the hill of Hakilah where Saul and three thousand soldiers spread out on the ground near the road.

“Saul’s standard is in the middle of the camp, in the dip in the earth, with Abner’s beside it,” Abishai said at David’s side. Ahimelech the Hittite crouched with them beneath a terebinth tree at the top of the hill overlooking the encampment.

David ducked from the branches and stepped away from the edge to avoid being seen by those below. Abishai and Ahimelech followed, joining Joab, Benaiah, and Asahel, who came from other lookout places along the cliff. “Who will go down with me to Saul in the camp?” He looked from Abishai to Ahimelech, gauging the reaction in each man’s eyes. He would leave the others above, to watch their backs.

“I will go down with you.” Abishai spoke first, his hand on the hilt of his sword and his expression eager. Ahimelech took a step back as though relieved that Abishai had volunteered. “Good, let’s go.” David backtracked to the winding path, picking his way slowly down the mountain toward the base of the hill. They stopped at the entrance where sentries should have been standing watch. But there was no sign of any guard stirring or safeguarding the king’s men.

“What now?” Abishai whispered. David scanned the darkly cloaked bodies of Saul’s men stretched before them, lying in small rises and low crevices in the earth. Abishai’s voice, though a mere whisper, nearly echoed in the silence. An eerie feeling crept over David.

“Nothing moves,” he said as they set one foot in front of the other between the narrow rows of men.

Abishai nodded, his eyes wide. Not even the sound of a cricket interrupted the dark. The only noise was the faint crunch of their sandals in the dirt. An owl swooped above their heads, its distant flapping a muffled ripple in the night’s cool air.

David pulled his cloak closer to his neck, a shiver working through him. Yahweh was in this place, walked beside him in this valley of darkness. He could sense Him in the strange silence, the total lack of movement on the part of any soldier in the camp. Every man slept, their breathing soft, as though the army lived yet slept in Sheol, where the dead lay.

They walked on to the middle of the camp where Saul’s gold and blue standard stood beside his spear, waving its banner in the night breeze near his head. Abner’s red-crested insignia as captain of the guard was emblazoned on his cloak and shield, which lay beside him. But rather than guarding the man he had sworn to protect, Abner showed no signs of life other than soft snoring as he slept next to Saul. The king of Israel lay on his side, arms curled in a self-protective position, and his water jug rested at his feet.

David looked down at the man who had made his life miserable for the past nine years, expecting to feel anger, even hatred. But his heart held only pity.

“David.” Abishai touched his shoulder and leaned close. “Today God has delivered your enemy into your hands. Now let me pin him to the ground with one thrust of my spear. I won’t have to strike him twice.”

David looked into Abishai’s eager eyes. He stood poised, one hand closed over the hilt of Saul’s spear. How often had David jumped out of the path of that blade when the king had thrown it at him in a fit of rage? In one thrust Abishai could put an end to David’s fugitive life, allowing him to pursue the dreams God had promised. The temptation to do just that rushed him like an enemy solider in battle.

Abishai lifted the heavy spear with ease, waiting for David’s word.

O Adonai, if only You would let me do this! How long, Lord? Will You forget me forever?
The thought had come to him far too often of late. One day this man who lay so helpless now would surely take David’s life if he allowed him to live, proving Ahinoam right and giving breath to his own faithless fears.

He lifted his gaze heavenward, his heart yearning for closure, for action, for hope.
How long, Adonai?
But he knew that whether God kept His promise sooner or later, killing Saul was not part of His answer.

“Don’t destroy him!” He looked into Abishai’s bewildered face, knowing his nephew would never understand. “Who can lay a hand on Adonai’s anointed and be guiltless?” He searched for words to explain himself. “As the Lord lives, Adonai Himself shall strike him. Either his time will come and he will die, or he will go into battle and perish. But the Lord forbid that I should lay a hand on Adonai’s anointed.” He released a breath as Abishai lowered the spear back to the earth and loosened his grip. “Now get the spear and the water jug that are near his head, and let’s go.”

David picked his way back through the camp and climbed the hill, Abishai at his back, his nephew’s silent disapproval weighting the air around them. David pressed on, ignoring the unspoken reprimand, and relief filled him as they joined the others.

As dawn turned the sky from gray to a mingled array of yellow, rose, and blue, David stepped from under the terebinth tree to the edge of the cliff. Joab and Benaiah jumped up to join him, but he waved them back with his hand.

He looked down at the stirring soldiers, memories of once fighting beside them in battle filling his thoughts. He tried to accept the fact that most of them had turned against him and thought him a traitor now. Would he be able to regain their trust and goodwill when God handed him the kingdom?
If
God handed him the kingdom. Had he imagined the promise? Had Samuel been wrong?

Shoving his melancholy thoughts aside, David drew in a breath for courage, then cupped his hands around his mouth. “Aren’t you going to answer me, Abner?” His voice carried below, echoing in the valley floor. The men looked toward the hills as though trying to determine the source of the sound.

“Who are you who calls to the king?” Abner’s turban carried the telltale red sash, making him visible to David even from the distance. Not exactly a wise move in a true battle, as it made him a living target. But the general wasn’t likely to care what this upstart young rival thought, even if he did once grudgingly appreciate his expertise in times of war.

“You are a man, aren’t you? And who is like you in Israel? Why didn’t you guard your lord the king? Someone came to destroy your lord the king. What you have done is not good. As Adonai lives, you and your men deserve to die, because you did not guard your master, Adonai’s anointed.” He motioned for Abishai to bring the spear and water jug. “Lift them high,” he whispered, then turned back to Abner. “Where are the king’s spear and water jug that were near his head?”

David caught sight of a man moving toward Abner, his gold crown shining in the sun’s ever-brightening rays. “Is that your voice, David my son?”

David’s stomach did an uncomfortable turn at Saul’s tender tone. Too many memories accompanied this man, thoughts of Jonathan and Michal, times of joy and acceptance back when David was young, his future bright.

He swallowed hard, surprised at the sudden emotion he felt, knowing how close he had come to sinning against Yahweh and killing the king. “Yes it is, my lord the king.” He drew in a breath, lifting his chin, trying to bolster his wavering pride and confidence. “Why is my lord pursuing his servant? What have I done, and what wrong am I guilty of?” He’d said similar words to Jonathan when Saul had first hunted him down, a lifetime ago.

Would it never end?

“Now let my lord the king listen to his servant’s words. If Adonai has incited you against me, then may He accept an offering.”

Could Yahweh have done this? Had David somehow offended the Almighty that He should allow him to suffer this way?
Please, Adonai, accept my broken heart on Your altar.

David stood straighter, making sure his voice could be heard below. “If, however, men have done it, may they be cursed before the Lord! They have now driven me from my share in the Lord’s inheritance, and have said, ‘Go, serve other gods.’ ” Was that the answer to get away from Saul’s pursuit? Must he run away from this land he loved? “Now do not let my blood fall to the ground far from the presence of Adonai. The king of Israel has come out to look for a flea, as when one hunts a partridge in the mountains.” Indeed, he was no more significant, but oh, for the wings of a bird to take him far from this place. He could return to Moab or try again to find refuge among the Philistines.

“I have sinned,” Saul said. “Come back, David my son. Because you considered my life precious today, I will not try to harm you again. Surely I have acted like a fool and have erred greatly.” Saul’s voice broke despite its strength.

David watched Saul’s head bow and his shoulders droop as though in grief. He put a hand to his head and looked up once more. Did he honestly think David would return to Gibeah with him? The man deluded himself!

“Here is the king’s spear!” David pointed to Abishai, who lifted the weapon again. David met his nephew’s gaze and read in his eyes a desire to thrust the blade toward the old king even now. David shook his head and looked back at Saul. “Let one of your young men come over and get it. Adonai rewards every man for his righteousness and faithfulness. Adonai delivered you into my hands today, but I would not lay a hand on Adonai’s anointed. As surely as I valued your life today, so may Adonai value my life and deliver me from all trouble.”

Saul lifted his hands toward the hill where David stood. “May you be blessed, my son David. You will do great things and surely triumph.”

David stepped away from the edge and turned his back on Saul, rejoining his men. Had he been any other man, Saul’s blessing might have meant something to him. But David knew how fickle the king could be, how untrustworthy the men who supported him and incited him against David were. Even if Saul spoke the truth, David could not believe him. Saul would never quit his hatred or his pursuit, and David would never kill him. Which meant one of them must move or die. And it wasn’t likely to be Saul.

David walked on in silence until they reached the camp where men and women sat about in circles, breaking the fast from the night before. He moved ahead of Benaiah, who had kept at his side throughout the arduous trek back to the wilderness compound, and stood in the main area at the central fire. He called the thirty together, and they hurried to gather the men and women to listen. Abigail stood near her mother, her face a study in concern. He met her gaze but could not bring a smile to his lips.

When the crowd quieted, he jumped up on a large rock and faced them. “We have come from the camp of Saul, where Adonai delivered him into our hands.”

A cheer erupted from the crowd, but David cut it short with a gesture. “But I would not, will not, kill Adonai’s anointed.” Murmurs turned to stony silence at the announcement, confusion and anger evident among both men and women. Uncertainty settled in his gut until he caught approval in Abigail’s eyes, and a sense of peace settled over him. He had done the right thing. “As long as Saul walks the earth, he will never stop hunting me, and since I will never kill him, we will never stop running. Unless . . .” He paused, waiting to make sure he had everyone’s attention. “Unless we go where Saul cannot find us. Where Saul would not dare to go. Then we can live in safety and peace until Saul is dead.”

“Where will we go?” Joab asked, his usually confident face wreathed in a scowl.

In that moment, David realized that his advisors might not support him, as they had not supported him when he’d first fled from Saul to the king of Gath. But that was before he had a mercenary army at his command. Now they were a force to contend with, a force the king of Gath would be pleased to accept. As these people must also accept if they were ever to acknowledge his leadership as king. They might not like it, but they would obey. He would allow nothing less.

He took his time, letting his gaze scan the crowd and making eye contact with as many men and women as he could. He smiled with a confidence he hoped he would soon feel, determined to make them feel it as well. At last he stopped at Joab, whose scowl had still not left his dark, beady eyes.

“I’ve given this a lot of thought, and there is only one place to go—a place where they will welcome our military skills as mercenaries to fight their battles . . . or so we will make them think.”

Joab’s scowl softened the slightest bit, his interest piqued. “You want to take us out of Israel.”

David nodded. “Yes. To a place Saul would never go and where we will live in peace.” He scanned the crowd once more, his gaze resting on Abigail. “Tonight we will sleep one last time in this place. Then we move west toward the sea—to the land of the Philistines.”

22

Abigail carried a large earthenware jug filled with water atop her head from the well to the outskirts of Lachish near the edge of Israelite territory. The six-day journey across the barren wastelands of Judah to this place had been slow going with the women and children and flocks of sheep and goats. David had left some of Nabal’s shepherds and servants in Maon to manage Nabal’s estate in their absence, but he’d taken some of the herd along to provide for their ever-growing entourage.

Abigail teetered as she lowered the jug to the earth near the campfire, then caught herself before she lost her balance. Ahinoam squatted nearby, flipping flat bread on smooth stones set over a low flame, and lentil stew bubbled in an earthenware pot above another small fire. The spicy scent of cumin made Abigail’s stomach protest her self-imposed secret fast. She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead and drew in a slow breath.