Abigail (7 page)

“Where is your family?” David’s tone boded neither friendship nor hostility, only curiosity.

“I left them at the Crag of the Ibex. By now they will be wondering where I am.”

David glanced at the guard. “Bring them here.” He gave Daniel an appraising look. “We shall see if you speak the truth.”

9

Abigail approached the audience chamber where Nabal’s bellowing laughter clashed with the flutist trying to be heard above the din of male voices. She paused, not sure she carried it within her to face him like this. He’d been drinking on and off from early morn and was nearly inebriated now. The men with him rested heavily on the oriental couches, one by one turning her way as she stepped over the threshold. She caught their lewd glances and averted her eyes, waiting for Nabal to notice her.

His gaze settled on her, and for the space of several heartbeats he said nothing, studying her as if he’d forgotten why he’d called her here. His dark hair hung forward, covering one eye, and he held a silver goblet carelessly in one hand. A smile, like the kind he used to send her way before he brought her to the marriage tent, raised the corners of his mouth. She released a slow, steadying breath.

He leaned back against his gilded chair, crossed his long legs in front of him at the ankles, and held the goblet to his lips, his eyes clearly assessing her. At last he motioned her forward, then spread one hand in an expansive gesture, a man in control of his surroundings.

She moved slowly and bowed at his side, touching her head to the cool tiles.

“Men of Ziph, my wife Abigail.” Nabal’s words slurred as he spoke, and she felt him move beside her until his hand rested on her shoulder. “You may rise, Wife.” Moisture spewed from his mouth, landing on her veil as she lifted her head. He swiped his lips with the sleeve of his robe.

Abigail leaned back on her heels, careful to keep her head lowered. “How may I serve you, my lord?” She longed to be anywhere but here, frustrated that her wavering voice betrayed her frayed nerves.

His fingers lifted her chin. “Look at me, Wife.” His smile faded, and his eyes grew dark, brooding. She did as he asked, fear pricking her heart at his sudden change in tone.

Nabal leaned away from her, tented his long fingers beneath his chin, and studied her for a suspended moment, then looked toward his guests. “My friends here tell me that the son of Jesse was in these parts and that your brother was seen in the hills where he was hiding.” He swiveled his gaze again to face her. Silence pulsed between them until Nabal closed the distance, his hot, wine-soaked breath touching what little skin was exposed on her cheeks. “Tell me, Wife, why would your brother, my servant, be keeping company with malcontents and enemies of the king?”

His nose nearly touched hers now, and his hand shot forward to grab her wrist. She recoiled, unable to stop the reaction as he pulled her to him until she was pressed against his knees with no escape. Would she be held responsible for every choice of her brother or father? She was paying the debts of her father even now and in every moment in the years to come, as long as she or Nabal lived on the earth. And her children would pay the price for generations to come.

“Speak up, now. Tell my friends what you know. Your father is determined to defraud me, leaving you to pay his debt.” He sneered even as his words slurred again, and Abigail wondered how he could think coherently with so much wine clouding his mind.

Perhaps he would forget everything when the drink wore off. But that did little to help her now or release her from his grasp. She turned her wrist in an attempt to free herself, surprised when he let go without comment. Perhaps he did not wish to make a scene in front of these men—a small consolation for their unwelcome presence.

She lowered her gaze and lifted her hands in supplication to him. “My lord, I am not aware of my brother’s comings and goings. I am your servant, my lord, and am not privy to all that goes on outside of your household. My brother does not tell me what is on his mind, but I know he would not do anything to purposely injure anyone or harm the king.”

“Keeping company with the son of Jesse is injury enough. I do not take kindly to men running away from their masters to live in the wilderness and feed off the well-being or kindness of others. Such men will find no support from me!” The cadence of his voice rose with every word until the room echoed with his shouts.

“Yes, my lord.” But he already knew her father and brother had run off after David. Why did he bring it up again now? To make a show in front of these men?

Abigail clasped her hands tightly, trying desperately to remain calm and praying he would allow her to escape this room and the oppression mounting in her. Nabal’s lack of compassion for those less fortunate than him was no secret. Even Simon, for all his faults, had possessed a kinder spirit than his son. Had he not chosen the name Nabal to spur his son to repent of his foolishness? At least if the rumors could be believed—the rumors that said Nabal’s birth name was something far more noble, but that his father had changed his name at Nabal’s entrance into manhood, because his mother had raised a fool. Rather than Nabal feeling shame and living to prove his father wrong, he had done everything in his power to live up to his moniker.

“You may go.” Nabal reached for his chalice. “But see to it that if you do hear from your father or brother, you report to me immediately.” He held the cup to his lips. “Understand, Wife?” The command dripped with sarcasm. His look sent a shiver through her.

“Yes, my lord.”

He turned away then, back to his men, resuming the laughter and gaiety as though she had never interrupted them. Indeed he was a fool.

She rose slowly to her feet and backed away from him. When she reached the door, she turned to leave, but Nabal’s words arrested her.

“My brothers, you do me great honor by keeping me informed of these things. Up until now the son of Jesse has eluded the king’s grasp, but rest assured, he will be found again, and the next time we will act quickly.”

Abigail stepped beneath the arch and into the hall, her ears attuned to her husband’s speech, her heart beating hard.

“And next time you see my wife’s father or brother, come and tell me. They think they have slipped from my grasp, but my arm is long, and though we must search throughout Judah, we will find them.”

Abigail drew in a quick breath, certain Nabal had spoken loud enough on purpose for her to hear. He may have been drinking, but he still knew what he was doing. And if what he said was true, he was one of David’s many enemies who were looking to turn him over to King Saul. Which meant her parents and Daniel were no safer now than they were when they had served in Nabal’s sheepfolds.

10

Dawn crept over the rise of the Judean wilderness north of En Gedi. Daniel yawned, ran a hand over his beard, and squinted north and east. Sand covered the expanse in every direction, except for rare spots of green where trees dotted the valley floor, watered by floods and the spring that fed En Gedi on its way to the Salt Sea. His turn as lookout came with a heady sense of relief that David fully trusted him now, though to his chagrin he knew that trust would not have come as soon as it did without his mother’s quick convincing. David had a soft spot for a woman’s impassioned words.

Despite the slight embarrassment, the thought drew a smile to his lips. He’d done the right thing coming here. His son had been born that first month, and that fact seemed to lift his status in David’s eyes. In the year since then, he’d been treated with a certain respect.

He straightened, unable to deny the feeling of pride he still felt at having produced a son. Talya was a good mother, though his own mother seemed to think she needed a lot of instruction. He shook his head. The lookout post was a great reprieve from his mother’s clucking tongue.

Rustling sounds drew his attention, but it was only a pack of conies playing chase among the underbrush. He bent to retie a sandal and picked his way farther up the hill to the top of the ridge. If Saul and his standing army came this way, they would undoubtedly come through the valley.

He shaded his eyes as his gaze swept the road that edged the barren hills to the valley floor. He paused, squinted again, then moved closer, his heartbeat suddenly picking up its pace. The size of the group took his breath. Men stretched out across the ravine like a river of hungry locusts, Saul’s standard and the banners of the Israelite tribes waving in the wind.

He stepped back on instinct. Had the men spotted him? Had he compromised his family’s safety by coming here? How quickly doubt pressed in on him again. He knew Saul had managed to find David in the past, but somehow he hadn’t expected it here. This oasis had given them all such refuge among the caves and trees and in the refreshing pool and falls of En Gedi. He had almost become accustomed to safety.

Cautiously, he moved forward again and peered down at the Israelite army—Saul’s choice soldiers once loyal to David. He did a mental head count, marking their location. They would find David’s camp too soon. Their respite would be short-lived.

“How fast were they moving?” David crossed his arms over his chest and stroked his chin with one hand, his gaze meeting Daniel’s. He ignored the sinking feeling in his gut.

“They got an early start, as they were on the move at dawn. But it’s slow going across the sand with that many men. I’d say we have some time.”

“But not enough to move the women and children.”

“Probably not.”

The scent of baked flat bread filled the entrance of the cave where David stood. He clasped his hands behind his back, moved away from his small band of advisors, and walked to the winding road that led around the falls to the Crag of the Ibex. He pulled in a deep breath, then moved farther up the ridge to where the cave was hidden by the falls. He sniffed again and released a sigh. Good. The scent of the water masked that of the bread. But the sight of women drawing water from the stream and the children racing up and down the shore made him pause. They would be visible from a distance. The only way to protect them would be to hide everyone in the caves and hope they wouldn’t end up trapped there. David knew the women were a steadying force for his men, but at times like this he questioned his own sanity in allowing them to be part of his band.

He ran a hand through his hair, fighting weariness, a weariness that dogged his every step. At the crunch of sandals on stone, he turned. Benaiah and Joab approached.

“If you see something I’m missing, now would be a good time to tell me.”

Benaiah stepped closer, his gaze sweeping the hills. “Saul is likely to come around by the path of the sheep pens rather than take the hillier side to the falls. It’s not as narrow and easier for his men to set up camp.”

“It only takes a few archers to wind their way down the gorge to find us. But if we risk leaving the opposite way we think they’ll take, they’ll see us.”

“Divide the group and draw them away from the women like we did the last time.” Joab’s tone held a hint of impatience, as if David should have figured this out already.

“As usual, Nephew, you are right. We will leave the women and children where they are and put them far back into the cave.” Ahinoam wouldn’t like the closed-in feeling, but she would have to live with it. “Tell Abiathar and the rest of the men to stay with the women. Joab, you take the thirty to a cave on this side of the hill. Benaiah, get Abishai. Daniel, bring the three mighty men to join me in the cave at the Crag of the Ibex. If He is willing, the Lord can save by many or few. Let’s hope He is willing.”

David stood just inside the recesses of the cave, looking out at a family of goats picking at the tufts of grass found here and there among the sand-coated rocks. He closed his eyes and leaned against the cave’s wall, his stomach rumbling. Hours had passed since the morning meal of goat cheese and flat bread, and he wondered how long he would have to make the dates and almonds in the sack at his side last.

Birds twittered in the trees outside the cave, and as he walked toward the entrance, he ducked out of the way of a row of sleeping bats. Another thing Ahinoam feared, though he failed to understand her worries. If she was an insect, a bat might cause her angst, but this type cared little for men or women.