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
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
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