Free Abigail by Jill Smith

He could feel the presence of his men keeping close, but they stopped short of exiting with him.
    “My lord the king,” David called once Saul was well out of physical range. Saul turned, and David dropped to his knees and bowed his face to the ground. Then he stood so he could speak loudly enough to be heard by Saul’s men, who were now visible on the rocky ridge.
    “Why do you listen when men say, ‘David is bent on harming you’? This day you have seen with your own eyes how Adonai delivered you into my hands in the cave. Some urged me to kill you, but I spared you. I said, ‘I will not lift my hand against my master, because he is Adonai’s anointed.’ ” David’s breath came fast, the words spilling from him. He held the cut piece of robe high in both hands so Saul would not mistake the markings. “See, my father, look at this piece of your robe in my hand! I cut off the corner of your robe but did not kill you. Now understand and recognize that I am not guilty of wrongdoing or rebellion. I have not wronged you, but you are hunting me down to take my life.”
    He held out his hands in supplication. “May Adonai judge between you and me. And may Adonai avenge the wrongs you have done to me, but my hand will not touch you. As the old saying goes, ‘From evildoers come evil deeds,’ so my hand will not touch you.” He met Saul’s gaze then, a feeling of deep sadness filling him. This pursuit was so futile, such a waste of time, energy, and resources. And for what? The man was a fool, chasing the wind. “Against whom has the king of Israel come out? Whom are you pursuing? A dead dog? A flea? May Adonai be our judge and decide between us. May He consider my cause and uphold it. May He vindicate me by delivering me from your hand.”
    Throat parched and words spent, David let his arms fall to his sides, defeat settling like a boulder on his chest. He and his men were surrounded now, at Saul’s complete mercy. He’d played the fool himself coming out here like this to speak to the king. Any moment now an arrow could take him down, and the king would have his victory. But at the same time, as close as he stood to his enemy, David felt inexpressible peace.
    “Is that your voice, David my son?” Saul’s words carried to him, broken by the king’s loud sobs. An awkward stillness surrounded the craggy hills. Even the goats seemed to pause at the guttural weeping.
    Abner, Saul’s cousin and commander, stepped to the king’s side and placed an arm around his shoulders in an apparent attempt to hold him up. Saul shrugged him off and straightened, his head bent low in an unusually humble pose.
    “You are more righteous than I,” Saul said. “You have treated me well, but I have treated you badly. You have just now told me of the good you did to me. Adonai delivered me into your hands, but you did not kill me. When a man finds his enemy, does he let him get away unharmed? May Adonai reward you well for the way you treated me today.”
    Saul dropped to one knee, hands extended. Was he bowing to his rival, the man he hated most on the earth?
    “I know that you will surely be king and that the kingdom of Israel will be established in your hands. Now swear to me by Adonai that you will not cut off my descendants or wipe out my name from my father’s family.”
    David studied Saul’s posture, an odd mixture of distaste and pleasure filling him. Behind him, he could hear the whispers of his men. They would tell him not to promise such a thing to the man. But it was Jonathan’s face he saw as he watched Saul begging for mercy before him. Jonathan, with whom he had made a lifelong covenant.
    “I will swear it,” he said, knowing he could never destroy Jonathan’s seed, or Michal, should he ever see her again. He was making no promises to the rest of Saul’s house, but the king need not know it.
    His words seemed to satisfy Saul, who rose and nodded his appreciation in David’s direction. Then the king of