Abigail's Story (7 page)

I stared helplessly at the khiton. “But it is perfect.” And worth ten times the wash basin I had given him.

“Not so. It is still a little damp from the hand
washing I gave it in your basin, after Tare left.” He winked at me.

At last all the items had been presented, and the merchants formed a wall behind me and Amri. Nabal was examining everything with a greedy eye, muttering things to his hovering steward, before finally looking up with a frown. Like Amri with the juglets, he was wavering, but not yet convinced. But there was nothing else I could give, and I did not think offering to draw his water at the well would entice him.

His next words confirmed my fears. “This is it? This is all?”

The merchants exchanged unhappy glances. It was obvious to me that they had given all that they could spare.

“What would you have added, Master Nabal?” Amri asked.

“A bride's zebed is a permanent thing. Land or animals for the herd. Gold, like the debt her brother owes me.” He smirked at me. “Your friends are generous, Abigail, but none of their offerings will last as long as a marriage. It is not enough.”

“What more would you have the girl do?” Amri demanded, his face red with anger. “Go up into the hills and herd your sheep for you?”

I saw the steward's eyes widen and remembered the brief conversation Nabal had had with him earlier.

This is the filling for his water jug.

“I could see to the flocks.” I knew nothing about shepherding, but I could learn. “It is a wife's duty to look after her husband's property, wherever and whatever it may be. Were you to take me there, I would—”

“I despise going into the hills,” Nabal said. “All the women smell and look like goats, and the food and wine are disgusting. Every journey makes me ill for weeks. But if I do not go every spring, the herdsmen cheat me of my portion.” He gave me a narrow look. “You say you would go there, in my place, as my wife. You would live alone, in the house I have in the hills of Paran. You would have to stay for all the months of spring, until shearing time.”

The prospect utterly terrified me. “So I would, without complaint.”

Nabal grunted. “The weaving and cheeses sent down to me have dwindled; that portion, too, must be increased. You would also see that I am not shorted ere the ewes drop any late lambs.”

How could one be shorted of ewes? Or did he mean the tardy lambs?

Adonai, I hope I can learn all of this swiftly.
“All that you wish would be done.” He did not seem swayed, so I asked, “Your presence is required at once, is it not? I could leave after the wedding feast.”

“So for this marriage I must also feed your kin and watch them drink up all my fine wines?” He shook his head.

Surrounded as we were by the remains of his feast from the night before, I felt a surge of impatience.
Was he so stingy that he would deny me a proper marriage ceremony?

That may be what he desires. Not only more water for his jug, but for me to fetch it.

“There need not be a feast, or any guests.” I ignored Cetura's horrified gasp. “A holy priest to bless the union and issue the marriage contract would suffice.”

It seemed everyone in the chamber held their breath as Nabal thought it over. I felt faint, my knees shaking under my khiton, but I would not collapse. I would show him the calm face of a capable woman who would make him a good partner and a strong and useful wife.

It seemed longer than it was before he spoke again.

“Very well,” Nabal said, standing and puffing out his chest. “Abigail of Carmel, I shall take you to wife.”

CHAPTER
7

“N
o,” my father said that afternoon. “I forbid it. I
forbid
you to take this Maon as husband.”

Amri had wanted to accompany me to the home of my parents, and give my father the news of my betrothal, but I refused. I knew it would be better for him to hear it privately, from my own lips. It was also the only way I could relate the details in such a way as to be pleasing to him.

I had expected surprise, and some displeasure, but not this dreadful anger.

“Father, it is done,” I said as I removed my head cloth and sandals. “The agreement has been made. I go tomorrow to the house of Nabal to be married.”

“I am head of this family, and you will not step foot outside this house without my say.” My father's face spasmed with pain. “Impudent girl, I should beat you for daring to travel to Maon by yourself.”

I ducked my head. “I was properly chaperoned.”

My father didn't hear me. “Going to the house of
an unmarried man, flaunting yourself, accepting such an offer without kin beside you? Never have I heard of such scandalous behavior, even from the worst of harlots. How could you do such a thing, child? It is my duty to select a husband for you. This arrangement is invalid. It is illegal!”

It was many things, but it was not against the law. I had already consulted with Shomer on that. I had to be sure that no one could stop me. Not even my father.

“By entering Nabal's house as I did, I am considered betrothed. He agrees to marry me. It is done.” I reached out to him, but he avoided my touch as if it were something foul. “It pains me that my choice has offended and upset you.”

“It
pains
you?” He wrung one hand. “How do you think I feel, to know that my daughter steals her mother's clothes and paints her face? That she would steal away like a thief to throw herself at a Maon? Did you even consider for one moment the harm you have done to your family?”

I rubbed a hand over my reddened lips, trying to remove the stain. “It was wrong of me to act on my own, and I beg your forgiveness for my disrespectful behavior.” I swallowed against the lump in my throat and held out my hand. “Please, Father, do not let this come between us. I am to be married. Be happy for me.”

“Happy?” He stared at the red stain my mouth had left on my fingers. “Happy to know my daughter behaved like a veiled woman? To endure such
disgrace to our family name? To turn a blind eye to this unlawful betrothal?” He closed his eyes and shook his head.

I had to select my words carefully when it came to describing my betrothed. “Nabal is a very wealthy man. He has an enormous house in Maon, and owns the largest flocks in all of Judah.” I waited, hopeful for a glimmer of approval. When none was shown, I added, “It is a good match. Far better than any I might have made here in Carmel.”

“This match was not yours to make.” Outrage burned in his filmy eyes, and for a moment, he was again the father of my childhood, tall and strong, and something he had never been before—terrifying. “I would rather see you dead than married to a Maon. You will send word of your refusal.”

If I did not marry Nabal, much more than his love and regard for me would die. Now I had to do what I had never done: openly defy my father. “Forgive me, but I cannot do that.”

He gave me a wide-eyed, shocked look. “You dare speak to me like this?” He lifted his crutch an inch, as if to strike me with the end of it.

“Yes, Father.” I did not flinch away. “In this, I must.”

“Tell him the truth, Abigail.” My brother stepped into the room. He was pale and trembling, and the swelling in his face was still dreadful. But there was something else—something in his eyes—that made him seem different. “What she does, she does for you, and Mother, and me. Abigail acts as go'el.”

“Nonsense. Women cannot be go'el, and no one marries but for . . .” My father's eyes became slits. “What have you to do with this, Rivai?” he asked in a very soft, dangerous voice.

“Nothing that cannot be mended,” I rushed to say, but my brother cut me off.

“I gambled and lost to Nabal.” Rivai glanced at me. “Abigail marries him to satisfy the debt. I tried to persuade her not, but she insisted she be my go'el.”

If news of my betrothal had outraged Oren, my brother's confession shook him from his crown to his heels. He sagged and propped himself against the table with one hand. “How much is this debt of yours, my son?”

“Father, you do not understand, Rivai was cheated,” I said quickly. “He was plied with wine and allowed to win so that he would become reckless. It is not his fault—”

“Silence, girl,” my father said. His quiet voice was like a shout. “How much, Rivai?”

“Eight maneh of gold,” my brother said quietly.

All the strength seemed to leave my father's body, and he sank down on the table bench. A dreadful moan died in his throat, and he covered his face with his hands.

“Why are you weeping, Oren?” My mother wandered into the room. “What is the matter? Did the goats knock over the oven shroud again?”

“No, all is well.” I put an arm around her shoulders. “Come, Mother. We need to work in the garden.”

I left Rivai to talk to our father and walked with Chemda out to where I grew my little patches of household herbs. I asked my mother to strip the seeds from the black cumin plants, which were so overgrown that she could not hurt them, while I thinned out the more delicate coriander.

I brought my hands to my face and breathed in deeply. The curly green leaves left their sweet-sharp scent on my fingers, a perfume I would likely not find in the hills.

“You are a pleasant-looking child.” One thin arm stole around my shoulders. “What is your name, girl? My husband did not say.”

The sickness that had sent Chemda's mind to bizarre fancies and meaningless wandering had also hurt me. From me, it had taken the mother who soothed my pains and fussed over my meals and combed out my hair. It stole the laughter and songs and love we had shared, and left me with this fragile, confused being who knew my name one day and forgot it the next.

She, too. I would leave tomorrow.

“I am Abigail,” I told my mother as I moved out of her embrace and bent to pick up the basket of trimmings. “I am going away and I do not know when I shall return. You must stay close to Father now, for Rivai will be out working.” But who would do the grinding and the cooking? Who would launder the garments and take the goats out to graze? Who would draw water and complete the thousand other tasks involved in keeping the family home?

Not my mother. My father would do what he could, but in the end the bulk of the work would be upon Rivai, who would also have to find some sort of work outside to earn enough to provide food for the family.

There would be no more time for his carving and dreaming. As useless as it was, part of me mourned that. Rivai may have been spoiled, but he did make his fancies into such lovely things.

“You should not worry yourself so.” Chemda took the basket from me. “Let the men care for your troubles. That is why the Adonai puts them here.”

The men had
created
all my troubles, but I could not tell her that. “I shall.”

“Men cannot do everything.” Cetura came into the garden and embraced me. To my mother, she said, “Chemda, would you have a cup of water for a thirsty old woman?”

I glanced toward the door but did not hear my father's or brother's voices any longer.

“Of course.” My mother smiled; she liked Cetura. She wandered back into the house.

The widow inspected me closely. “You know nothing about herd animals.”

I nodded. “I was desperate.”

“Well, it is done, and you will have to marry that lout. I pray the hill people will be kind to you.” She sighed. “If only you had not been too young for my sons, you would be my daughter in truth now.”

“I am, in my heart,” I assured her.

“Then as your other mother I think it my right to
see to the rest of the family after you go to your husband.” She turned around. “My house is larger and more comfortable, I think.”

I felt confused. “Cetura, what do you say?”

“I mean that your mother, father, and brother shall come to live with me. Since my sons went to Hebron, I have lived alone, and I am weary of it. I could use Rivai's strong young back to haul my barrows to market, too.” She nodded in agreement with herself as she bent to inspect the black cumin. “I shall have to take a cutting of this; I have only the white, and these are sweeter. How many goats have you here?”

Something large and painful swelled beneath my breast. If Cetura took in my parents and brother, they would be well cared for, and never go hungry. Rivai would have work he could do. “You are jesting with me. You cannot do this. It is too much.”

The widow eyed me. “I can do what I like, and when do you know me to jest?”

“Oh, Cetura.” I flung myself into her arms.

“Child, child.” She laughed and stroked my hair; then her movements stilled.

I lifted my head to see Rivai waiting with a cup of water.

Cetura murmured something about my mother and slipped into the house.

“I would do anything I can to make it right,” Rivai said. “Anything, Abigail. Tell me and I shall, this moment.”

“Cetura will look after you all when I am gone. She is getting older and needs a young man to do
the heavy work.” I placed a hand on my brother's arm. “Promise you will do this, and help our dear neighbor in all things.”

“I swear I shall.”

“I love you, Brother. Never forget that.” I pressed my lips to his cheek and went in. My father was watching Cetura and Chemda preparing the evening meal, but there was a terrible defeat in his eyes when he glanced at me.

“You return to Maon tomorrow, then?” he asked, as if he had never forbidden me to do so. “We shall come with you.”

“No, Father.” I could not tell him my husband was too cheap to provide a wedding feast. “The trip would be too much for Mother. Nabal sends me to the hill country directly, to look after his herds.” I could not think about any of that now. “I do not know when I shall see you again. Likely not until after I return for shearing time.”

“My daughter.” My father's throat worked around the harsh rasp of his voice. “How can I permit you to do this? How will we go on without you?”

“Go as I shall, Father.” I went to him and kissed his forehead. “With love in your heart.”

 

Amri took me back to the house of Nabal the next day. Nothing had changed, and no one came to greet us. The steward admitted us and told us that the master was still in his private chamber.

“He stays in the baths until noon each day, perhaps a little later,” the servant said.

I had never known anyone to take a full bath every day. My mother and I visited the public baths once each week but otherwise washed from a basin at home.

“Not this day,” Amri snapped. “Wake him and tell him his bride is here.”

“We will wait in the courtyard,” I told the steward in a gentler voice. I wanted to see the garden, anyway.

We were brought to the center of the house, where the beds of rich soil, carefully tended, grew a bewildering variety of flowers. One small corner seemed neglected, however, and I went to investigate.

Absently I bent to tug at a melon vine, withered and dying. “These might have been saved,” I said, fingering the tiny, neglected fruit.

“You would save everything,” Amri said, his voice harsh, “but you cannot. I knew that witch in the market cursed you. She was the one to bring this misfortune into your life.”

I glanced up at him. “How can a husband be a misfortune?”

“This man will be no husband to you.” He drew me up and clasped my hands in a painful grip. “Heed me now, daughter of Oren. Herdsmen are nomads; they go wherever the flocks take them. They live in tents and have ways strange to you. Learn them. Their women will not be like you, and they will be suspicious of you. Befriend them.”

The ferocity of his words startled me. “I shall try, Amri.”

“Adonai yireh, but this is a bitter thing.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “Where you go, you will have no friends or family to protect you.” He looked at me now with the same, angry resentment the m'khashepah had shown me. “In all things, protect yourself. Save yourself.”

The steward appeared before I could reply. He looked even more sullen and resentful. “Master Nabal will receive you now.”

As before, we were brought to Nabal's great room. The air smelled of exotic spices, but none I recognized. Two male servants stood fanning Nabal with wide palm fronds. Another, older woman sat at his feet, into which she was rubbing oil.

My husband-to-be was naked to the waist and holding a round object with a handle in front of his mouth. He grimaced at the object and then applied a small, frayed-ended twig to his teeth.