Abigail (35 page)

“How is she?” He should have donned his royal robe again, but at this moment he didn’t care what the woman thought of him. “The child?”

“You have a son, my lord.” Naamah bowed her head in an act of respect, then straightened, placing a hand on her back as though the act of standing upright caused her pain. Exhaustion lined her features. “He is small, but well.”

“Where is he?” Every child was brought to its father at birth so the man could bless the child on his knees. “Why have you not brought him to me?” He almost flinched at the flash of irritation in Naamah’s eyes, until he remembered that he had a right to some demands of his own. This woman seemed to enjoy forgetting that he was the king. “Bring him to me at once.” He dismissed her with a wave and whirled about to change into his royal attire.

“If it please you, my lord . . .”

David paused and turned back at Naamah’s persistence.

“Abigail asked that you come to her. After such a long ordeal, she is beyond exhaustion and surely not thinking clearly, my lord, but she would not allow me to take the child from her.” Naamah’s flushed face told him that she did indeed realize that he had a right to expect proper tradition to be upheld, but her whole body sagged as she stood before him. She’d been working for two days straight and looked like she might fall into a heap at any moment.

“Why didn’t you send a servant to tell me this? You are worn out, Naamah. Go home to your husband.” He summoned Benaiah, ever present in the halls outside his rooms, to have someone escort Naamah home.

“Forgive my Abigail, my lord. She—”

David touched Naamah’s shoulder. “I forgive her, Mother. I will still bless my son on my knees. Now go. Rest.” He nodded to Benaiah, then turned back to finish dressing.

Summoning his advisors and mighty men, he led them to Abigail’s courtyard to wait while he returned with the child. After he secured him from Abigail’s arms.

David stopped short of touching Abigail as he gazed down at her sleeping form. The lines he had seen far too often along her brow in recent days had softened. Her mouth tilted upward in a slight smile, and a look of peace covered her beautiful face. Her dark, auburntinged hair lay in curled tendrils over her shoulders to the middle of her back, a few strands lying gently over the babe’s small body. The scene made his heart twist with longing and pride, and he wanted nothing more than to pull them both into his arms and cradle them there.

His Abigail was like one of the lambs he used to carry across his shoulders after an injury—a woman who had endured so much, who deserved to feel secure and at peace. He could give her that. He could keep her close to him, raise her to the status of queen, declare her son heir to his throne. She would never need to bear another child after this, never need to endure the suffering he had put her through to bring forth the tiny cherub she held close to her now.

“David?” Her eyes fluttered open, and he smiled at her.

“I’m here, beloved. May I see our son?” He didn’t move to touch her due to her uncleanness, but nodded to a servant to retrieve the child for him. When the girl moved to Abigail’s side, David held up a hand for her to wait. He wanted Abigail to release the boy to him, not take him forcibly from her.

Abigail scooted to sit up on the bed, lifting the child into her arms. She looked down at the boy and caressed his cheek, then met David’s gaze and offered the boy toward him. David glanced at the servant who stood waiting for his word, but he changed his mind and waved her away, stepping closer to take the boy from Abigail’s own hands.

Their fingers touched as she released him, her look open and vulnerable as though she were entrusting him with her most precious possession. A hint of longing surfaced in him that she should feel the same way about him, but he squelched the thought as the epitome of selfishness.

“Be careful with him, my lord,” she said, her voice low and tremulous.

Did she think him incompetent? But of course, she was just feeling protective. He pulled the baby close to his heart as he’d done so often with a young lamb. The child stirred and stretched, his eyes closed in sleep, his mouth tipped at the corners as though he alone were privy to a sweet secret. David couldn’t stop a smile of his own as he bent to kiss the child’s soft head.

He lifted his face to look once again at his wife, so weak and pale among the cushions. “How are you feeling?”

“As though all energy has bled from my limbs.” She met his gaze, but only for the briefest moment before her eyes moved to the child in his arms. “He was worth it, though.”

The child felt so light compared to a lamb, a mere wisp compared to Ahinoam’s son. “What will you call him?”

She shifted her gaze to meet his again. “Two names, my lord. Chileab—he is perfect because of you—and Daniel after my brother.” She paused, seeming to think about it. “If you approve, of course.”

He nodded. “I approve.” She could have picked one and waited to name a second son after her brother. Or was she suggesting that she would not care to go through this again, as he had anticipated? He could give her that freedom, but he would surely miss the closeness they shared and the intimacy of the marriage bed. Still, there were his other wives to consider, and it didn’t mean he couldn’t share himself with her in other ways.

If he were to groom Chileab to succeed him . . . The thought gave him pause, and he looked down into the small face. The boy had lifted a hand to his mouth and quietly sucked on his fist. Chileab was not a king’s name, though Daniel was. He rallied to the idea as he glanced again at Abigail. “He will want to eat soon. My men are waiting in the courtyard. Let me take him to them to bless him on my knee.”

She nodded, joy lighting her eyes. “Thank you, my lord. And he will be blessed to have you as his father.”

Her words bolstered his sense of pride, and he took the child and walked to the door. “I’ll be back soon,” he said over his shoulder, then turned and made his way to the courtyard to bless his son.

PART V

Sons were born to David in Hebron: His firstborn was Amnon by Ahinoam the Jezreelitess; his second, Chileab, by Abigail the widow of Nabal the Carmelite; the third, Absalom the son of Maacah, the daughter of Talmai, king of Geshur; the fourth, Adonijah the son of Haggith; the fifth, Shephatiah the son of Abital; and the sixth, Ithream, by David’s wife Eglah. These were born to David in Hebron.

2 Samuel 3:2–5 NKJV

These were the sons of David born to him in Hebron: The firstborn was Amnon the son of Ahinoam of Jezreel; the second, Daniel the son of Abigail of Carmel.

1 Chronicles 3:1

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Hebron’s streets overflowed with traffic—merchant carts pulled by donkeys and camels heavy laden with dangling wares, leading caravans from far-off places. Abigail and her mother with five-year-old Chileab between them followed David’s guards, female servants, and other wives into the marketplace, awed by the sights and sounds. The women were rarely given such an opportunity, and the excitement coming from David’s other wives and children had managed to heighten Abigail’s as well.

During five of the seven years of David’s reign in Hebron, civil war had been nearly constant and at times fierce. Despite Hebron’s relative safety, David had continually refused to allow his wives freedom to roam about the city for fear of kidnapping or harm done by enemy forces. Even when Abigail had asked him about his policy—after being coaxed to do so by the other women—she sensed his closed attitude. The kidnapping in Ziklag held too strong a hold in his memory, and nothing she said had managed to reassure him, despite Hebron’s guards and walls.

But rumor had it that Abner had finally come to his senses and had sent word of reconciliation to David. Michal was somehow part of the bargaining price, and the women’s quarters had been abuzz for weeks about her return.

Abigail took in the smells and sounds of colorful wares in the marketplace around her, wondering if the weightier, wealthier items hadn’t been brought in because of Michal. It was no secret that David still yearned for his first wife, Saul’s daughter. The rooms he had built for her, the private gardens . . . He had spared no expense creating a place that outshone the apartments of his other wives.

The thought brought the familiar twinge of jealousy to Abigail’s heart. She squeezed Chileab’s hand tighter, pulling him close as they wove in and around the merchant tables. David had hinted at making Abigail his queen, at declaring Chileab to be his rightful heir once he took the throne of all Israel. Michal and Ahinoam would surely balk at such a thing, but Michal had no heir, and Ahinoam’s son Amnon was not David’s first choice.

Abigail captured Chileab’s small but sturdy frame with one look, her heart swelling with pride. He was beautiful, the image of his father in so many ways, though his hair curled more than David’s soft waves, and its color was a lighter brown. His early love of music and nature gave him a common bond with his father, and the two had already become close.

When David came to visit, he spent more time with Chileab than he did with her, often finding excuses to leave before the night was over. If he did share her bed, he did so without the intimacy she longed for.

Did he find her so repulsive? Why had he shut her out in this way?

“Abigail, look! These fabrics are as fine as beaten papyrus, only soft as fine linen—softer, in fact. They would make an excellent princely robe for Chileab—even the king might appreciate something of this quality. The colors, particularly the purple, are regal.” Her mother chattered on, moving to some colored beads and bronze headpieces, oohing and aahing like one of the young maids.

Abigail stepped out of the wide road and ducked into the booth with the unusual fabric. She fingered a large swatch, imagining what a fine robe she could fashion for her son. “May I?” She looked at the merchant, a man with graying hair, heavy jowls, and a middle that showed he loved food more than manual labor.

“Of course, of course. Here, let me help you with that. What you have here is of the finest quality. Fabric fit for a king.” He looked down at Chileab. “Or a prince, of course.” The man smiled, revealing a gap between his stained front teeth. “Shall I wrap it up for you?”

Abigail released Chileab’s hand and allowed the man to drape the fabric over her outstretched arms. The shimmering purple shone in the early morning light, and the softness felt like a gentle caress. David would appreciate such finery.

Her mother came up beside her, while Chileab stood close by where Abigail could keep him in sight. She had no doubt he would obey her instructions not to wander among the stalls. He was as curious as any other five-year-old, but shy enough to prefer her company to that of strangers. Soon enough she would have to give him into Jehiel’s care, the man David had commissioned to teach and guide his sons, as he had already begun to do with Amnon. But Chileab was nearly two years younger than Amnon, and Abigail meant to keep him close as long as possible.

She turned her attention back to the fabric and the merchant. After haggling over the price, she purchased enough cloth to outfit both David and Chileab in royal finery. She glanced at her mother, who had moved farther down the row. Chileab had edged closer to the road, watching a bird flit in and around a donkey and cart. He bent low to look under the cart.

“Be careful, Chileab. Don’t get too close.”

He looked up at her and smiled, a smile so similar to his father’s it made her heart ache for David. He squatted again to peer beneath the cart, and Abigail turned to accept the package from the man. She would keep this one herself rather than entrust it to Rosah. Where was that girl, anyway? She was usually close by, but this was her first visit to this market, so Abigail had allowed her to do a little of her own shopping.

She stepped toward the road to collect Chileab and search the other stalls for Rosah but stopped short. Where was Chileab? She looked at the wooden cart parked to the side of the stall where he had just been. He wouldn’t wander off, so where was he?

“Chileab?” She called his name. No answer. “Chileab!” Louder this time.

She heard his young voice as though from a distance. “Over here, Mama.”

Her mother’s head appeared on the other side of the cart, closer to the middle of the road. She bent low, disappearing from Abigail’s view. Noises grew louder around her, and Abigail turned at the sound of horses and chariot wheels turning over the cobbled stones of the road, coming toward them. David’s standard flew from the chariot’s back pole, and David rode behind the driver, decked out in kingly fare. Was he come to seek out a particular merchant? Guards on horseback flocked him before and behind like a small military parade.

A squeaking noise like that of a turning wheel pierced the air, closer than David’s chariot. A child’s high-pitched, pitiful wail cut straight to Abigail’s heart. The next moment blurred before her eyes, and the world seemed to tilt and move slower than normal. She felt her legs propelling her forward toward the child’s cries, heard the crunch, saw the cart move. Her mother’s frantic screams jerked her out of the sudden fog that had enveloped her. The cart moved again. Another horrifying scream. A sickening thud.