Read Online Abigail's Story by Ann Burton - Free Book Online Page A

you.” To Nabal, he said, “Here is the portion given to Abigail.”
    â€œA rug, fit for the king.” Shomer dropped the roll of wool and shook it out, revealing the largest and most intricately dyed rug from his stall. He bowed to Nabal, and then came to me and took my hands in his. “For the madder root and the many other small gifts you have brought to me over the years.” He squeezed my hands and then went back to his place.
    â€œFour sacks of seed wheat, a full kor,” Cetura called out to Nabal, directing his servants to place it next to the rug as she came forward. “Free of blight, mildew, and pests. Plant it anywhere and it will grow tall and golden as the sun.” She, too, bowed and moved back to speak to me. “He is not much to look at,” she said gruffly, and then bent forward tokiss my cheek. “I would not know what a daughter’s love is, but for you.”
    â€œCetura.” Afraid I would weep, I embraced her.
    The other merchants stepped forward. Costly oils and foodstuffs were presented, as were fine wines and ales, artfully worked leathers and bronzes, rare resins and salts. Each merchant’s offering I recognized as the finest wares they possessed. Each came to me and reminded me of some small thing I had done for them.
    I knew what they were doing. I had no dowry, so they each had contributed something to create one for me. I wanted to cringe with shame. I wanted to sob with joy.
    Geddel the clothes mender’s offering made me gasp instead, for he brought a long khiton made of dazzling white linen. It had long sleeves fringed with fur and decorated all over with the tiniest of painted clay beads. So fine was it that I knew it had to belong to one of the wealthiest women in town.
    â€œA samla as beautiful as its wearer,” Geddel said gallantly, and after draping it carefully atop Cetura’s grain sacks so that it would not become soiled, he walked to speak to me. “Tare, the shofet’s concubine, did not want it back when she saw how dirty it was,” he said in a low voice. “A fair trade for the basin, I thought.”
    I stared helplessly at the khiton. “But it is perfect.” And worth ten times the wash basin I had given him.
    â€œNot so. It is still a little damp from the handwashing 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.
    â€œWhat would you have added, Master Nabal?” Amri asked.
    â€œA 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.”
    â€œWhat 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.
    â€œI 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—”
    â€œI despise going into the hills,” Nabal said. “All the women smell and look like goats, and the