Abigail (5 page)

Which was why he stood hovering over her, turning the whip in his hands. She was right about one thing. No one should know about this, least of all her father, though he doubted the man would ever hear of it. He was too big a coward to do anything anyway. The thought bolstered his confidence—and his anger at this woman who had caused him so much grief.

She covered her face now, hiding what little the moon would reveal of her beauty. Beauty that did not move him as it once did. He slapped the whip against his palm, enjoying the way she winced each time she heard the smack. He would put the blows in places that wouldn’t permanently harm her, lest she be unable to give him the son he needed when he so desired. Her clothes would hide any bruises or cuts, but he would definitely have his way with her tonight.

She would not get away with her insolence. He would see to it.

The first blow jolted Abigail, stinging her forearm. Instinctively, she covered the spot with her hand, but he was quick to deliver a succession of follow-up blows, whirling her around and placing each one in a different spot. Fire coursed through every limb, and she cried out, begging him to stop until her voice grew hoarse.

“Silence!” He bellowed the word after each of her pitiful cries until her common sense finally kicked in, and she clamped her mouth shut no matter how severe the pain. When she crumpled to the dirt, covering her head with both hands in a gesture of self-protection, he growled some unintelligible sounds like a wounded animal.

Oh, Adonai
,
help me. What have I done to deserve this man?

She’d asked the question a thousand times since her wedding night. Despite her father’s attempt to dissolve her marriage, she knew he expected her to live well, never needing anything, never knowing she would want for peace and safety every day of her life.

“Get up!” Nabal’s demand cut through her thoughts. He yanked a clump of her hair and pulled.

“Ow!” Her unintended cry was rewarded with a slew of curses.

“I told you, stupid woman, to be silent!” He tossed the whip into the bushes and pulled her toward him. She tasted his wine-soaked breath as his mouth came down hard on hers. Before she could respond, he ripped her torn clothes from her and forced her to the ground again.

Moments later he stood, looked down on her with a satisfied smirk on his face that he had finally humbled her, and walked away, leaving her naked in the dirt.

She fumbled blindly about for her robe after he was gone. She thrust a trembling arm through each sleeve, cinched the robe closed, then fell once again to the dirt and wept in silence.

6

David pushed his weary limbs from the hard-packed earth and stood, glancing down at his sleeping wife Ahinoam. Light flickered from a clay lamp embedded in a crevice of the cave’s rock walls and cast shifting shadows over her huddled form. Even in sleep her brows wrinkled and her hands curled into tight balls at her sides. He was a fool to have jumped into marriage with a woman of whom he knew nothing. If he’d waited, sought wise counsel . . . He sighed, shaking his head. One did not consult the ephod and invoke Yahweh’s pleasure on matters of the heart.

Still, finding out more about her would have told him she was weak and as frightened as a skittish gazelle. Her worries zapped what little strength he had left. If not for his overwhelming desire to satisfy his own needs, to replace what he had lost in Michal, he would have been better off without a woman to drag him down.

He moved from her side and pulled his robe over his tunic, frustrated with his train of thought. She stretched as he wrapped his leather girdle about his waist. In some respects, women did have a calming effect on the men, kept them stable. A few even seemed to have a measure of common sense, like Joab’s wife Marta. Though he wouldn’t trade Ahinoam’s fear for Marta’s common sense. Marta came with a sharp tongue and a beaked nose, neither of which he found appealing. Better to suffer through Ahinoam’s weakness. At least she was pleasing to look at.

With deft fingers, David quickly tied the sling to his belt and slipped the sword into its sheath at his side. Ahinoam stirred, then sat bolt upright.

“Is it morning already, my lord?” She snatched the robe from beneath her and pulled it about her, looking up at him with wide, anxious eyes.

“It’s still night. Go back to sleep.” He couldn’t tell that for sure in the recesses of the cave, but no one else stirred about them, telling him dawn was far off.

“But where are you going?” Her whispered words held a thread of panic, raising his ire. “Has the king come back?”

“I’m not going anywhere. Go back to sleep.” He kept his voice low, but he couldn’t keep the irritation from his tone. She was far too clingy and needy, but to tell her he wanted to sleep by the fire rather than hold her in his arms would bring him more grief than he cared to handle. “I’ll be back soon.” It was a promise he didn’t want to fulfill, but when she nodded and lay back down, looking hurt and lonely, he knew he would return before the sun came up.

He picked his way past sleeping comrades by the muted light of a few more clay lamps set in various niches along the cave walls, past family groups huddled together for safety and warmth. If he had any sense of decency, he would be doing the same—keeping Ahinoam safe, or at least giving her a sense of safety, however false. But his own restlessness would only add to her fear. And his.

The mouth of the cave grew closer, where a fire still burned and sentries stood watch. Temperatures in the desert at night made the fire a welcome sight. He approached, cinching his cloak tighter at the neck and glancing at the guards. One snored while the other stood with his back to the fire, gaze facing the plateau where the town of Ziph stood in the distance. David scuffed his toe along the ground as he approached the guard to alert him of his presence. “Quiet tonight, Benaiah?” “Yes, my lord. Nothing moves that I can see.” Benaiah stood a head taller than David, his burly frame filling out his tunic and straining the seams. Benaiah had been with him four years now, ever since the day he had run from his service to King Saul to report the loss of Michal to David. David had always liked the young guard, and since that day when Benaiah’s disgust for Saul had matched David’s own, he’d become a trusted ally.

Benaiah dipped his head toward David in a gesture of respect, then flicked his gaze across the expanse of desert once again. Spies could move along the plains at night with little fear of being seen, despite David’s diligence at placing sentries in pairs at eight locations going north, south, east, and west. “Trouble sleeping, my lord?”

“No more than usual.” David ran a hand through his hair, unable to stifle a yawn. Stars seemed closer here in the hill of Hakilah with no houses or trees to block the view. “Sometimes it’s easier to sleep under the stars than in a cave.” He nodded toward the fire. “Wake me if there’s trouble.”

Benaiah acknowledged David’s comment without a word, then walked to the edge of the cliff to peer down the mountainside. David stretched out before the fire and rested his head on a smooth rock. Tongues of flame licked the animal dung and dry sticks they’d managed to scrounge up, sending sparks into the sky. David’s gaze followed the sparks to where his heart turned heavenward.

O Adonai, how long? Will You forget me forever?

Samuel’s anointing seemed a lifetime ago, and every good thing that had followed, a fading dream. Already he had waited eight summers since the day the prophet had come to his father’s house seeking to anoint the next king of Israel. Where was Adonai’s promise now?

How much longer, Lord?

The scent of cinnamon used to remind him of that day. If he closed his eyes to think on it, he could almost feel the oil running down his hair into his beard. Now the scent merely reminded him of Ahinoam, who’d once mixed the spice into her perfume—back when she lived with her uncle in happier circumstances. Ahinoam, whose fear had become his own.

I’ll die one day at Saul’s hand.

The thought came to him unbidden, tightening the muscles in his stomach, draining his blood. Impossible. Yahweh would not have sent Samuel to anoint him only to abandon him now. Surely not.

But the unsettled feeling remained.

He turned on his side to face the fire and closed his eyes. Fitful dreams mocked him until the gray edge of dawn poked through the black horizon. He rubbed the sting of sleep from his tired eyes and forced himself to rise. Blinking hard to adjust to the darkness beyond the fire, he searched for a glimpse of Benaiah’s stoic form. When he did not see him at first glance, he walked to the edge of the rock cliff and peered down the trail to where the guard made his rounds. He caught sight of him several paces away, a hand over his eyes as if trying to see farther into the distance.

David trained his eyes in the same direction, instinctively searching the plains for any sign of movement in the predawn stillness. He walked closer to where Benaiah stood but stopped short of him when the moon’s retreating light illuminated the place at the foot of the hill. A moment later, Benaiah turned and met David’s gaze across the space between them. Someone was coming.

David nodded at Benaiah, who quickly scooted farther down the hill to assess what they’d seen. David crouched low, following at Benaiah’s heels. At another clifflike overhang, David got down on his stomach and moved to the edge, peering into the valley below. There, hundreds of black goat-hair tents spread out like a thousand mammoth anthills.
Saul.

“He’s called out the entire standing army,” Benaiah whispered, his breath close to David’s ear.

The standing army consisted of three thousand of Israel’s mightiest men—minus David, his six hundred followers, and Jonathan. His friend would never join in Saul’s madness to seek David’s life. But there were obviously plenty of those who would, men whom he’d once commanded, who had followed his leadership with excitement, even joy.

Whose fickle hearts now marched after Saul to hunt him down.

“Let’s go.” David scooted away from the edge. When they were out of the range of vision to those below, he stood and hurried back up the hill, Benaiah’s footfalls right behind him.

When they reached the fire pit, barely winded, David rushed past it into the mouth of the cave. “Awaken my nephews and the three mighty men at once, then get the rest of the camp moving.” He glanced at his faithful guard, unable to hold back a heavy sigh. “Someone told Saul where we are. There is no other way to explain how he got so close undetected.”

“The Ziphites have been less than friendly.” Benaiah scratched his beard, then moved to do David’s bidding.

“Indeed. Or our young visitor was not as honest as he appeared.” David moved to the back of the cave to meet with his leaders, wondering if he’d misread the shepherd Daniel who’d looked so honest and determined to claim allegiance. Had he been duped by a master deceiver, or did the man truly hold kindness toward David in his heart?

7

“Take the women and children to En Gedi.” David paced at the back of the cave, stopping every few seconds to face his advisors. “It’s me Saul wants, so I’ll stay behind to draw him out. One or two men can evade an army better than hundreds of women with babes on their hips.”

“There isn’t time, David.” His nephew Joab sat rubbing a grinding stone across the blade of his sword, sharpening it. Three other advisors did the same. The noise grated David’s already heightened nerves. “Saul’s army is too close. They will see the women or hear the children and intercept them before we can get down the mountain. Saul would like nothing better than to kidnap them all and hold them for ransom. He knows you wouldn’t allow an enemy to take what belongs to you, so he’d use it to his advantage.”

“Or he’d kill them all as he did the priests,” Benaiah put in.,

David glanced at Abiathar, the lone member of Ahimelech’s household who had escaped the killing of the priests of Nob, murdered at Saul’s command. He looked at Abishai, Joab’s brother. “Put the women and children in the back of the largest caves, along with the animals and the supplies. Spread men out in strategic places to guard them, but leave some men in the caves with the women to keep them quiet.”

His gaze shifted to Asahel, Joab’s youngest brother—the one with feet as fast as a gazelle—and to Eleazar, one of his mighty men. “Each of you take two hundred men and circle in opposite directions behind Saul’s army. See if you can divert them away from the women.”

He ran a hand through his hair and cast a pointed look from Joab to Benaiah. “You two, and the rest of you”—he took in his small band of mighty men with one glance—“will come with me. We’re going to climb up the back of the mountain and see if Saul will follow. Saul’s commander, Abner, is surefooted, but he’s out of practice. They haven’t fought a real war since the king decided I was sweeter prey than the Philistines. Let’s give them something to chase.”

Joab set down the grinding stone and slipped the sword into the belt at his waist. “Lead on, O mighty king.”

He took two steps forward, but David caught his shoulder with one hand, making him stop midstride. “Only God is mighty, and I am not king. We are at Saul’s mercy here. If we escape, it will only be by God’s grace.” He held his nephew’s hardened gaze. A self-made man, Joab didn’t put much stock in Adonai’s ability to deliver. Sometimes of late, David had a hard time disagreeing with him.

A commotion coming from the mouth of the cave interrupted Joab’s response. One of the sentries approached, out of breath. “They are coming, my lord. Saul’s men are even now climbing the hill headed in this direction. We need to flee!” “Go!”

David’s command had barely left his mouth before his men dispersed, rushing to do his bidding.

“Which way?” Joab asked when they had reached the cliff and looked down at Saul’s men picking their way up the mountain.

David glanced at the outcropping of caves at their back where Abishai stood giving quiet orders to the two hundred men in his charge. Frightened women and children hurried alongside goats and donkeys on the path to join the others already in the largest caves.