Abigail (38 page)

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 took 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.

Abigail stared at the closed door, too numb and confused to move. He was sending her away? So quickly? And not with the joy she expected or with the hope of letting her create for him a sanctuary of peace, but with anger and despair.

What had she done?

She picked up an embroidered pillow and hugged it to herself to still the sudden trembling. Her intentions had been to please him—and herself, if the truth were known. She had thought he would appreciate a place of refuge from the demands of his kingly life. She could give that to him in a home of her own. So what if she cared for her father in the process? Why couldn’t he see that she spoke wisdom?

She did, didn’t she?

Memories and uncertainty swept over her in little waves— times of trying so hard to appease angry men, of working to keep her heart from being broken again and again, of believing promises no man could keep. And what had it brought her?

A knock at the door drew her gaze from the pillow to the place David had just stood. Rosah pattered over the tile floors to answer the knock.

“We are here to assist the lady Abigail.” Two female servants stepped into the room, arms loaded with straw baskets. “The king has sent us to help pack your things.”

“Pack your things?” Rosah looked at her askance. Had she not heard the conversation?

“The king is sending us away.” Abigail heard her own flat tone acknowledge the unbelievable truth. She stared at the two servants in silence.

“Away? Where? Why?” Rosah moved closer and knelt beside the couch at her feet. “You must call him back. You must fix whatever is wrong. Please, my lady.”

Abigail looked into Rosah’s impassioned face. “Why do you care so? You will still be cared for. Just not here.”

Rosah’s cheeks flushed, and she leaned back on her heels. “I only thought . . . it isn’t good for your son to be away from his father. Forgive me, my lady.” She backed away, and Abigail wondered not for the first time if Rosah had feelings for her husband. But then all the young women were enamored with the king. She would outgrow it in time when she married and had a home of her own.