Abigail (21 page)

Why, Yahweh? Why do You not stop my husband from making a horrible mistake? Why won’t he listen to reason?

At least David did listen at first. Six days ago before they left the wilderness of Judah, some of his advisors had tried to talk David into reconsidering this trek into Philistine land. But enough of the people supported him, including Ahinoam, to convince him he was doing the right thing, the only thing to ensure their safety.

Abigail worried her lower lip as she knelt beside Ahinoam to scoop the finished flat bread into a clay bowl, and Ahinoam poured more batter onto the stones. Life would change the moment they set foot on Philistine soil. Would Yahweh go with them? She shuddered at the thought.

“Are you all right, Abigail?” Her mother’s voice lacked the sharp edge she’d noted since they left the wilderness. Her parents were not in favor of this move either, but her father would never complain or raise an objection to David, and Daniel thought David could do no wrong. “Here, let me take that.” She felt her mother grip her elbow as she took hold of the bowl of flat bread with the other hand. “Sit over there. You look like you’re about to fall over.”

Abigail held a hand to her middle and moved to do as her mother commanded, her legs struggling to carry her to the makeshift bench.

“I’ll take this to the men and be right back. Don’t move.”

She couldn’t move if she tried.
Oh, Adonai, why do You not answer my prayers?
She’d prayed and fasted for six long days, but David’s scouts had returned from Gath with the good news that Achish, their king, was quite willing to accept David’s mercenary army and was waiting to welcome them at the palace. How would they avoid contamination from idols if they lived in the midst of them? Hadn’t Adonai called them out to be a separate people? Did David think himself or his followers immune from such temptation?

“When was the last time you ate?” Abigail looked up into her mother’s concerned face. “I’ve noticed the way you seem to avoid sitting when the women gather to eat. Are you trying to starve yourself, Abigail? Fasting will not change anything.”

Abigail would have argued a few days ago, but now, with no answer in sight, she couldn’t think of a thing to discount her mother’s words. “I had hoped my prayers would keep us from leaving Israel,” she said softly, covering her face with both hands. “But Yahweh does not hear my prayers.” Her throat grew thick with the emotion she had held in check since David’s announcement. She would not give in to it now, but she couldn’t seem to stop a few tears from escaping her eyes.

Her mother’s strong arms came around her shoulders and pulled her close. “There, there. Everything will turn out all right.” She patted Abigail’s back. “Do not worry about this so much, Abigail dear. Adonai surely heard you, but sometimes He expects His people to take their own action. Perhaps rather than praying, He wants you to talk some sense into that husband of yours. When David finally listens to you, you’ll have your answer.”

Abigail pulled away from her mother’s embrace to look at her. “David listens to his men, not to me.”

“He listened to you before, didn’t he—when you stopped him from killing Nabal?”

“Yes, but that was different. Now he is too busy and I am only a wife.” She’d done her best to allow Ahinoam time with David since his return from the camp of King Saul, and never told him how Ahinoam had acted toward her. The last thing David needed was a whiny wife.

“You are more than a wife, you are a confidante. David trusts you, Abigail. Surely if you talk to him as you have done in the past, he will hear your words. If you don’t speak up, we will end up living among the pagans. For your own peace of mind, eat something and speak to your husband.”

She slowly nodded. “The bread does smell good.”

Her mother clucked her tongue. “Well, of course it does. Wait there.” She moved to the fire where Ahinoam still squatted and snatched a small round loaf, then returned before Abigail could change her mind. “Eat.” She thrust the bread into Abigail’s hands. “And when you feel your strength return, you must speak to David. I will tell him you need him tonight.” She hurried off in the direction of the men’s circle.

“Mama, wait!” Abigail called after her, but her mother did not respond. She would push Abigail to do this thing whether she liked it or not. But could she be right? Was God’s answer to her prayers to take matters into her own hands and do something to stop this madness herself? Such a thing had seemed so right when she’d rushed off to appease David’s wrath, but now she felt uncertain, nervous. How did one appeal to a man who teetered on the edge of discouragement, even despair? David’s faith needed an infusion of strength. Strength she didn’t have.

She nibbled the bread as she fought her own bout of despair and wondered what she would say to her husband when he came to her.

Stars sprinkled the night sky as Abigail set a three-pronged griddle along the middle partition of the goat-hair tent that separated David’s side from hers and Ahinoam’s. With the new wealth she had brought to the marriage, they would each have a tent of their own one day, or, better yet, a room or home of their own, but for now, David kept them together in this large enclosure. Who knew what kind of dwellings they would have in Philistine territory?

She closed her eyes, then opened them again, willing her nerves into submission. If only Yahweh would hear her and change her husband’s mind. Perhaps if she were a man . . . Did God care about the prayers of a mere woman?

She turned at the swish of sandals on the swept dirt floor behind her and felt David’s arms go around her waist, his lips close to her ear. “Your mother said you wanted to see me.” He turned her around and kissed her. “You’ve been quiet on this journey. I was beginning to wonder if something was wrong. Ahinoam finally seems happy, but now all I see is sorrow in your eyes. Are you missing your old home in Maon?” He held her at arm’s length, his dark eyes hopeful. “You’re not regretting your decision to marry me, are you?”

She shook her head. “Never.” She smiled at his boyish grin, wanting desperately to please him. She had no desire to be the one to take the joy from him—a joy he’d had since his announcement to move out of Israel. What if God had spoken to him and told him to do this? Maybe her worry about temptations and false gods was just her own fear of change.

“So what did you want to talk to me about? Your mother made it sound urgent.” He let his fingers slide slowly down her arms, then captured both of her hands in his.

She glanced through the tent opening at the pockets of men and women sitting in front of their nearby tents, playing games and chatting by firelight. “Can we go somewhere quiet?” People could overhear, especially Ahinoam, who could walk in on them at any time.

His look grew sober as he studied her again. “There is a place up the hill a ways. Or we can go to my side of the tent.” His bed of soft wool was there, but she feared he would be less likely to listen in such an intimate place.

“Up the hill would be nice.” She gave him a coy smile. “Then we can come back to your side of the tent.”

“Let me get a torch.” His eyes lit as they often did when they were alone, as though he could think of no one else but her. But if he walked away . . .

“Is that necessary?” Someone else might grab his attention, and she would never get this chance again. “The moon is nearly full. Isn’t that enough?”

He looked doubtful but nodded. He tightened his grip on her hand and led the way up the hill behind their tent. He paused every so often to pick his way with care, then finally stopped in a small rock enclosure. He led her to a large rock to sit, then took the seat beside her. Moonlight bathed his face, and she read concern in his earnest, unwavering gaze.

“What is so important, Abigail? Has someone offended you, upset you? You know you can tell me anything. I will never hurt you.” He touched her face with one hand and stroked her cheek with his fingers, his look tender. He was so used to fixing everyone else’s problems, sometimes he jumped ahead of them, certain he knew what they wanted.

“No one has offended me or hurt me, my lord. It’s just . . .” She glanced down for the briefest moment but couldn’t keep from looking into the fathomless depths of his eyes. “Don’t you worry about living among the pagans, my lord, about the influence of their false gods on the people? If we are in the Philistines’ royal city, we will be surrounded by their gods, and even if the king accepts us, the Philistine people will find us offensive. How will we keep our people from straying away from the true worship of Adonai?”

She fought the urge to chew on her lip as she watched David’s expression change. He leaned away from her and placed both hands on his knees, shifting in his seat to look first toward the dust, then toward the stars. Crickets and the whisper of wings moved in the air around them, breaking the silence.

Abigail folded her hands in her lap, longing to undo what she’d said, wanting to restore David’s boyish grin and pretend her world was at peace. But she kept silent, waiting for an eternity for David to respond.

At last he looked at her, and relief flooded through her at his tender expression. “I thank God for you, Abigail, for your wisdom and your love and concern not only for me but for all of the people. You will make a wise queen someday, should the Lord give us a kingly heir.” He took her hand and caressed it. “I too am concerned about the false gods of the Philistines, but there is no easy solution. What I can promise you is that I will ask Achish for a city of our own, far from the places where most Philistines dwell. Achish will understand our need to practice our faith apart from theirs, and we will still be out of Saul’s reach. How does that sound?” He held her gaze, his own so hopeful she couldn’t bear to object to anything else, despite the sinking feeling in her heart.

“That sounds good, my lord.” She smiled, hoping he would take her at her word and not read in her expression the sorrow still filling her soul.

He let go of her hand and pulled her into his arms, joy lighting his eyes. “You’ll see, beloved, this move will be good for all of us, give us the rest we so desperately need. I’m weary of running.” He paused to search her gaze. “I need this, Abigail.”

“I know, David.” She reached up to kiss him, and he bent to meet her lips, his passion drowning out any thought of protest she had left.

23

The palace of the Philistine king sent chills down Abigail’s spine. Almost every wall held relief paintings of the gleaming half-man, half-fish idol Dagon. She shuddered as they passed trim, armored soldiers wearing red-feathered leather helmets who flanked the halls and widely pillared open courtyards. How could David trust this man? She felt exposed and vulnerable despite the hospitality and the rich apartment Achish had offered them.

She leaned against a gilded couch, still recuperating from her long fast and the trek through Gath. She’d kept her face veiled at David’s request, to hide her beauty from the men of Philistia. Now, in the room she shared with Ahinoam and their maids, she could remove her headdress and veil and let her hair fall to the middle of her back. It felt good physically to unwind after so much running. But her spirit still shriveled in fear of the future.

Her gaze traveled over the rich carpets and mosaic tile floors of the room. Heavy embroidered curtains hung over stone walls and could be drawn across wide windows facing west. They pointed toward the direction of the Philistines’ ancestral homes, the islands of the sea. Sculptures and paintings of sea creatures covered walls and sat atop oak tables, with Dagon the central theme of them all.

Their spacious room adjoined David’s even larger one. She could hear laughter coming from David’s quarters. David’s nephews, Joab, Abishai, and Asahel, were his constant companions along with Benaiah, Daniel, and a handful of his mighty men who held counsel with him. A part of her longed to hear their conversation, but she knew David would only tell her not to worry herself over political affairs. Even Daniel barely had time to visit with her these days to tell her what David had planned, leaving her to speculate.

As an Egyptian slave bent to wash her dusty feet, she relaxed and closed her eyes, listening to the chatter of Ahinoam, Talya, and her mother.
Oh, Adonai,
she prayed as she’d done all the days of her fast,
please keep us from being polluted by this place. Send us far from the pagan influences of Gath. Protect David from the lure of wealth and remind him that You are his keeper and his best defense against all of his enemies.