Abigail (22 page)

The king’s delicacies that were placed before Abigail in the spacious dining hall that evening, where she and Ahinoam sat at a table across from the wives and concubines of Achish, turned her stomach at first glance. Except for the fruit, dates, figs, and vegetables, the law of Adonai allowed nothing. A roast pig lay browned in the center of the table, while broiled catfish and crabs’ legs from the sea filled ceramic platters to overflowing.

Abigail wondered whether David would eat everything Achish offered. She glanced about at the rest of their group seated at long tables all around the room. In his generosity, Achish had invited David’s entire entourage to dine with him. David sat at the table nearest the king.

“They keep staring at us.” Ahinoam leaned close, the hem of her veil touching Abigail’s arm. At David’s command, the women had kept their faces covered, allowing only the smallest opening for their eyes and mouth to see and eat—a command she obeyed with gratitude for the protection it afforded from pagan scrutiny.

“If we don’t look back, we won’t notice. I suggest we eat and keep to ourselves.” She picked up a raisin cake and glanced into Ahinoam’s fear-filled eyes. The woman had been almost giddy at the prospect of settling down—until they walked the foreign streets of Gath and felt the animosity of the Philistine people as they passed. “It will be all right, Ahinoam. Yahweh is with us.”

“Is He?” She waved a hand at the roasted pig in the center of the table. “You know He would not approve of this. There is nothing we can eat!” She glanced toward David’s table. “Does our lord eat the king’s delicacies? Will he expect us to?” Her words, barely above a whisper, carried a sense of despair.

Abigail looked in David’s direction as well, hoping to catch his gaze, but he was caught up in conversation with his men. From a distance it was hard to tell, but the swine looked untouched and the sea creatures still piled high on platters in front of the men. A servant approached David as Abigail watched, and David spoke something in the man’s ear. Moments later the platters of unclean food were removed from his table and the tables of all the Israelites in attendance.

“There, see,” Abigail whispered, leaning close to Ahinoam. “Adonai is still with us, even in this pagan city.” It was a small comfort, but she would take whatever she could get. Some how, she must endure this country, these people. David had chosen to come here, and Yahweh had not stopped him. This trial couldn’t be any worse than living with Nabal’s abuse, and yet—she couldn’t help praying, silently pleading for Yahweh to intervene and rescue them from this place.

A strand of hair slipped from beneath Abigail’s headdress into her eyes as she worked the millstone in a circular motion over grains of wheat, grinding them into soft flour. The kernels were among the many spoils David had retrieved on military raids of foreign towns in the four months they had been in Ziklag. After six months living in the royal city of Gath, David had finally kept his promise to her and brought them to the outlying town of Ziklag, far from the watchful eye of the Philistine king.

She paused, straightened, and looked out over the bustling town, lifting her shoulders to ease the tension. The men had returned the night before from a raid, and David was busy dividing the spoils to send to strategic places in Judah, to friends who had helped him in times past. Squeals of children mingled with the laughter of women as they picked through piles of utensils, clothing, and jewels.

Ahinoam approached with a sieve and settled onto a bench at Abigail’s side. “David gave me two new robes and a matching jeweled headdress and earrings last night.” She lifted her chin, her expression telling Abigail that she’d been much too pleased to have David call her to his quarters after he’d kissed Abigail goodnight. If he’d come home a week earlier, she would have been his choice, but she’d been forced to tell him she was unclean, leaving him momentarily disappointed. She almost hoped he would sleep alone and wait until she could join him again, but Ahinoam was only too eager to take her place.

“That’s nice.” Abigail bent over the millstone, letting the grinding noises fill the silence between them. She ignored the clamor of women hurrying back to their chores and shooing children away from the goods.

“What did he give you?” Ahinoam asked, finally breaking the silence. Abigail knew that the woman’s interest was only so that she could compare their gifts. While Abigail took a particular liking to the sapphire headdress David had given her—extracting her promise that she would wear it on his coronation day—she was in no mood for comparisons. It was hard enough sharing a man. She didn’t need to compete for every expression of his love.

“About the same as he gave to you,” she said at last, deciding that Ahinoam would find out eventually anyway. “Have you seen Zahara?”

“Not since last night before David asked me to his rooms.”

Abigail closed her eyes, telling herself to ignore the stinging comments, which were meant only to wound. David called Ahinoam so rarely, Abigail ought to feel pity, not jealousy. So why did the woman’s haughty tone trouble her? She would never make David a good wife if she spent her days comparing herself to every other wife he chose to take.

The thought left a hollow feeling in her heart.

“That’s strange. Zahara almost always greets me after her visit to the well. But I didn’t see her this morning.” Abigail forced her mind to focus on her missing maid instead of Ahinoam’s bragging. “She must be around here somewhere. Did anyone check her pallet? Perhaps she is ill.”

“How would I know? She’s your maid.”

Abigail stopped the mill and straightened. “Indeed she is.”

And the only maid not yet married to one of the eligible men, though David’s nephew Asahel had asked for the privilege more than once. He needed a wife to care for his young son after losing the child’s mother at birth. For some reason David kept putting him off, as though he didn’t want the man to marry Zahara. But the girl had proven to be nothing but loyal. So why did David still distrust her?

Abigail stood and brushed flour from her tunic. “I’m going to check on her.”

Ahinoam shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Abigail checked the room where the girl slept and found her sleeping mat and personal items gone. She then stopped at each neighboring courtyard to ask after Zahara, growing more worried with each negative response. Alarm tightened her middle, and sweat covered her upper lip. She wiped it away with the back of her hand, surprised to find herself shaking.

She leaned against the cool limestone wall of the house David had inhabited when the residents of Ziklag had left the town to the Israelites. Where would Zahara have gone, and why? Was she a threat to David? Did David know something about Zahara he hadn’t told her?

She drew in a slow breath, willing strength into her weak limbs. She must find David to tell him at once and hope they could find the girl before something terrible happened.

David climbed a low hill and glanced toward the south in the direction of their last raid on the Amalekites. He’d done his best to annihilate the people, to carry out God’s judgment on them as Saul was once told and failed to do. But pockets of them still existed, and David worried lest one of them escape and make his way to Gath, to Achish, to tell the Philistine king of David’s exploits.

He ran a hand over his beard and sighed. If he had listened to Abigail, they would still be running from Saul with little earthly wealth to sustain them. Coming to Philistine territory had given him the edge he needed to build a better following. More men had joined him here, and the spoils of war had made him stronger.

But a part of him wished he’d had her courage. The lies he had spoken to protect himself from King Achish, leading the man to believe he was killing Israelites instead of Geshurites and Amalekites, left him feeling somehow bereft and ever more distant from Yahweh.

He glanced heavenward, yearning for that closeness he’d once felt as a shepherd in Judah’s hills. Was Abigail right? Though the people did not openly worship foreign gods, had Adonai abandoned them when they entered Philistine lands?

What would You have me do
,
O Lord?

Even his prayers seemed to reach no farther than his heart. Heaviness filled him. He turned to walk back toward the town and was met by Benaiah, who guarded his every move, and

Joab, whose agitated look raised the tension at the back of his neck.

“What is it?” He kept walking as the two men fell into step beside him.

“Achish has sent his messengers, accompanied by palace guards and a small army.”

David stopped. Looked at his nephew. “How small?”

“Six hundred men.”

David’s stomach clenched. So many. “He never sends guards.”

“Obviously, this time is different.”

Had Achish gotten wind of the truth? Worry gnawed at him again. “What could he want?” The question demanded an answer he would have soon enough. He picked up his pace and hurried toward the gate.

Philistine soldiers wearing the colors and insignia of Achish, king of Gath, stood at attention at David’s approach. David’s own men surrounded him as he took his seat in the gate and beckoned the king’s messenger forward. The man bowed one knee and straightened, meeting David’s gaze.

“The king requests that David, son of Jesse, and his men accompany him and the rest of the Philistine army into battle against the Israelites. He requests your presence in Gath immediately.”

David steeled his expression, drumming his fingers on the stone seat. His gaze took in the messenger and the band of Philistines spilling out of the gate, waiting to accompany his men. To refuse would be seen as a slight to Achish. His men and their families would never escape if he tried to run. He recognized the formidable Ittai the Gittite, the leader of the king’s personal guard, and knew this mission would not end well.

He looked back at the messenger and nodded. “We will come. Just give us time to gather our provisions.”

The messenger stepped back and bowed. “It will be as you say.”

When the guards and messengers had left the town gate and joined the soldiers outside the walls, David turned to his advisors. “Summon the men to prepare for war. We return to Gath.”

Abigail stood at the threshold to David’s rooms, waiting for him to finish stuffing an extra tunic into a sack and double-check the sharpness of his dagger. She walked in when he turned to look at her and handed him a satchel of honey cakes, almonds, and figs.

“Everything is ready, my lord.”

He took the satchel, his expression grim. “If only that were true.” He reached for her hand and pulled her to him, pressing her head against his chest. “Pray for me, Abigail.” His voice caught, and his arms tightened around her.

“Always.” She wove her fingers through his hair as he drew her close. His kiss, so ardent, so desperate, surprised her. Did he fear he wouldn’t come back? Was Adonai allowing this to punish David for leaving Israel? But she couldn’t voice the thought. “It will all work out,” she whispered when their lips parted. “Adonai will not abandon His anointed.”

His brow lifted at that, and he held her at arm’s length. “He will have to abandon one of us, beloved. Saul is my opponent, fighting against the Philistines. If I fight with the Philistines, in truth one of us will die. We are both His anointed.”