Love’s Sacred Song (10 page)

“I am the older and wiser twin,” Shiphrah said, a look silencing her sister before she turned back to the king. “And we are honored to have been chosen to serve in your harem.”

Sherah’s pout accentuated the beauty mark above her lip, and he tried to imagine their exquisite beauty when they weren’t veiled by grieving attire. “Well, it seems we’ll have need of your service sooner than anticipated,” he said, casting a glance at his two advisors. “I’d like you to begin your hospitality to the Egyptian princess, Sekhet, as soon as she arrives—tomorrow morning at dawn.”

The maidens bowed their heads in silent submission.

“I’m not sure if she speaks Hebrew.” Solomon looked to Ahishar, and the steward’s shrug conveyed uncertainty. “I’ll need you to do the best you can—”

“My lord,” Shiphrah interrupted, “my sister and I would be happy to learn some Egyptian phrases from the courier we saw leave your chamber. Your princess may feel less alone if her new homeland shows interest in her heritage.” She glanced up—only a moment, a seductive, enticing moment. “Perhaps we might even learn some phrases to teach the king so that he might woo his new bride.”

Solomon could feel his heart race and crimson rise on his neck. Ahishar had indeed chosen these so-called Daughters of Jerusalem wisely. How smoothly might his other foreign marriages have started if he’d had Shiphrah and Sherah to soothe the Ammonite princess, Naamah, or the Moabitess or Edomitess? “I would like that very much,” he said, succumbing to the urge to touch their cheeks. He lifted both hands to barely brush each girl’s face but drew back quickly—though both smiled rather than recoil. “Rise, my friends. Together we will create harmony in my harem.”

He extended both hands to urge the maidens to their feet. Each grasped the hand offered, turned it, and kissed his palm—the act in perfect unison. The hairs on Solomon’s arms stood at strict attention, and a shudder worked through him.

This time Sherah spoke. “We are indeed your friends, my king, and will do everything in our power to create a harem that honors Judah.”

•
 2 Chronicles 1:6–8, 10–12 
•

Solomon went up to the bronze altar before the
Lord
in the Tent of Meeting and offered a thousand burnt offerings on it.

That night God appeared to Solomon and said to him, “Ask for whatever you want me to give you.”

Solomon answered God, “. . . Give me wisdom and knowledge, that I may lead this people.” . . .

God said to Solomon, “Since this is your heart’s desire and you have not asked for wealth, riches or honor, nor for the death of your enemies, and since you have not asked for a long life . . . therefore wisdom and knowledge will be given you. And I will also give you wealth, riches and honor, such as no king who was before you ever had and none after you will have.”

B
enaiah, take me home.” Solomon skipped a rock across the clear waters of Gibeon’s great pool, the leisurely gesture now a habit of his thirty days at rest. “Jehovah has spoken, and I have heard Him, my friend.” His throat tightened. “I’m no longer ruling Israel based on the promise made to Abba David. Now I’m reigning over Jehovah’s people with the wisdom and blessing He promised to me.” Skipping another rock, he allowed time for his emotions to settle before speaking again. “I’m glad the Egyptians remained in Jerusalem. I’ve needed every moment of this time to gain a clear vision of the Lord’s plan for our nation.”

He heard Benaiah chuckle. “You’d better hope your new bride doesn’t see you before your bath, or all trade agreements may be forfeit.”

Solomon laughed and tugged on his overgrown beard. “Yes, my friend. It will feel good to bathe and trim this ragged beard. And we have a week to settle the treaty and initiate reforms before the Passover celebration begins.”

“And have a wedding?” Benaiah lifted his left eyebrow, stretching his long battle scar, reminding Solomon of the lives already lost in Gezer for the marriage.

“Egypt is a powerful nation, my friend, and the singular fact that Pharaoh Siamun offered his daughter as my bride is a testimony to Abba David’s leadership and rising power.” He dropped the remaining rocks he was holding, letting them fall gently to Gibeon’s soil. “But Egypt is a nation in turmoil, and I will not fall prey to her inner strife. If the successor Psusennes will abide by Pharaoh Siamun’s terms, I will honor our agreement and marry Princess Sekhet. But we will be distant relatives with a guarded relationship.”

“I believe Jehovah’s wisdom already bears fruit, my king.” Benaiah bowed, heaping respect on top of friendship.

Solomon acknowledged his captain’s approval with misty eyes. “How can it be, Benaiah? Why did God choose Abba? Why did he appear to me in that dream, asking me to name whatever I desired and He would give it? And furthermore, what possessed me to say
wisdom
?” Both men laughed aloud. “Why didn’t I ask for peace in my harem or a hundred noble sons?”

Their laughter dwindled into the silence of friends who need no words to speak. Finally Solomon said, “When the Lord granted me wisdom and knowledge beyond the measure of any man before me or any man yet to come, I remember thinking,
I must be dreaming
. And when He added to the blessing wealth, riches, and honor, I was so overwhelmed. In my dream, I was on my knees before Him, buried my face in my hands, and cried.” Turning to his captain, he said, “That’s how I woke up—on the floor by my couch, facedown. Crying.”

“It was more than a dream,” the mountainous man said.

“It was more than a dream.”

They stood watching the breeze comb the flowering wheat. “My lord,” Benaiah whispered, “we must be on our way if we hope to reach Jerusalem before midday.”

Solomon didn’t budge. “I’ve decided to redefine the boundary lines of Israel’s tribes.” He noted his captain’s shocked expression but continued. “I believe that creating twelve new districts will blur the established borders and create more unity in our nation.”

Benaiah bent over, plucked a sprig of grass, and began chewing on it. “And how will you implement this new plan?”

“I will choose twelve governors—designated ‘princes’—to rule under me as administrators. They’ll be responsible to oversee a foreign workforce that we’ll use as builders and common laborers within each district.” He turned now to face his captain, excitement bubbling up inside him. “We’ll fortify Hazor, Megiddo—and even Gezer. The district princes will send their foreign workers in shifts to build the temple and other public buildings.” Seeing his commander wasn’t yet convinced, he hesitated before adding, “And the princes will be responsible to collect Israelite taxes.”

“Taxes?” Benaiah’s scar danced as he chewed the grass with gusto. “What sort of taxes do you propose?”

“Each of the twelve districts will be responsible to supply the needed provisions of my household for one moon cycle each year. I also plan to send an immediate request to Hiram, king of Tyre, asking that Israelite craftsmen be trained to work with his Sidonian lumbermen. I plan to send thirty thousand Israelites—ten thousand each new moon on a three-moon rotation—to Lebanon to fell the giant cedars we’ll use to construct the temple. Then more laborers will be necessary to harvest the wheat and olive oil I’m sure Hiram will ask for in return for his trees.”

His captain’s fist clenched. “And will Judah be included in this taxing and labor? How many in the City of David bend their backs to a plow and cut cedars in Lebanon?”

Benaiah’s words slapped Solomon as if he’d used his clenched fist. The king stared at his friend, too shocked to be offended. “The tribe of Judah will be exempt from redistricting—and taxation—because most of them are members of my household either by birth or by service.” The shock began to lessen, and the offense increased. “What are you saying, Benaiah? Are you accusing me of—of the very betrayal our northern tribes claim as grounds for revolt?”

Benaiah removed the now decimated blade of grass from his mouth, bowed his head, and massaged his temples. “No, of course not, but I want you to hear my warnings before you face the objections of your council and the northern tribes. Consider carefully how you will gain the confidence and trust of experienced men who don’t have the privilege of witnessing your good intentions and godly integrity.” Placing a steady hand on Solomon’s shoulder, he added, “Nor did they see your face—as I did—when you awoke from the vision of God’s promise.”

Solomon knew his friend was right.
But there is so much to do!
“How do I gain their confidence and trust, Benaiah?”

“I believe that in this too, Jehovah will grant you wisdom, my king.” A mischievous smile creased his lips. “But you will win no one’s favor until you take a bath.” With a wink and a nudge, he said, “Now, may we go back to Jerusalem?”

Having had a good meal and a refreshing bath, Solomon expected to feel energized for the day ahead. Instead, the palace felt oppressive after so many days encamped on the lush terraces outside Gibeon’s city wall. He studied the heavy embroidered curtains separating his bedchamber from the adjacent meeting area, the grand tapestries on his walls, and the mosaic tiles that graced his floors. Tawdry attempts to match the grandeur of God’s creation. A knock on the door piqued his longing for a mourning dove’s song.

But the mourning was over.

“Come!” he shouted, allowing his chamber servants to wind the golden waistband around his purple linen robe.

Ahishar rushed in, stylus poised, happier than Solomon had seen him since many new moons had passed.

“Well, my buzzing high steward, you must be delighted at the impossible demands of my schedule today.”

Barely containing his delight, the man grinned, shaking his iron pen at the king. “Oh, my lord, after hearing of your Gibeon encounter and the reforms you have planned, I have no doubt today’s court proceedings will be the most memorable in Israel’s history.”

Solomon wondered if Ahishar had carefully chosen his words as a snide threat or if his steward was truly supportive of the proposed reforms. “Well then, why don’t you read me the order of business so I can prepare my heart and mind.”

The steward withdrew a rolled papyrus from beneath his robe and began reciting. “First will be a private meeting with your council members. We will then throw open the doors of the throne hall and welcome the representatives from visiting nations who have come to congratulate you as Israel’s new king.”

“But what of the countless Israelites,” Solomon interrupted, “who have waited for judgment since before Abba’s death? When will their disputes be heard?”

Ahishar shifted uncomfortably but maintained his pleasant smile. “They will of course be heard, my lord, just as soon as we uphold the laws of hospitality that govern the nations.” He bowed submissively, but Solomon was not appeased. As keeper of the court proceedings, Ahishar wielded great power—power to determine who spoke to the king and when.

“Go on,” Solomon said, receiving the gold-leafed crown on his head. “Hurry, I’m almost ready.” Ahishar blathered on as Solomon studied his reflection in the polished bronze shield.
One week. I have one week before the idle days of the Passover Feast to prove that God’s promise at Gibeon wasn’t just a dream.

Ahishar’s voice fell silent, and Solomon looked into the expectant face of his high steward.

“Ready, my lord?”

As if hearing the question through the chamber walls, Benaiah entered in full dress armor, followed by a contingent of his elite guard. Solomon’s surprise must have been evident.

“The Egyptians have made it clear to the other national contingents that they plan to address the king before anyone else.” Benaiah’s scar pulsed as he addressed Ahishar. “After King Solomon meets with his council, announce the Egyptians immediately and then excuse them as quickly as possible.” The three nodded their agreement and moved in unison toward the chamber’s veiled corner door.

Stepping over the threshold, Solomon emerged into his hall of justice from behind the heavy tapestries covering the hidden portal. No trumpets announced his presence, only the welcoming bows of his council members beside their cushioned couches.

“Please, sit down,” Solomon said, motioning to their comfortable stools. “I trust that each of you received and read the scroll I sent to you this morning. In it, I thoroughly outlined proposed reforms for our nation.” Anxious glances passed among the advisors, but Solomon continued, pointing now to the empty couch of the traitorous priest Abiathar and a new couch arranged in the left row. “I have appointed a new position to the council and a new man to fill it. Adoniram will coordinate the efforts of a national corvee, our foreign labor force. And Zadok will replace Abiathar as high priest.”

Both men appeared from the king’s hidden chamber door and assumed their places among the council amid congratulatory nods. Solomon spoke over their distraction to continue with the business at hand.

“I’m sure you have questions and concerns; however, the scroll of court proceedings is lengthy today, so I’d like to postpone our discussion on reforms to another time.”

After waiting a moment, Ahishar, who stood at the king’s right side, said, “Hearing no objection from my fellow counselors, I suggest we let our new king begin to rule!”

Wide smiles and gracious nods soothed Solomon’s anxious soul. Undoubtedly these men would argue with his reforms, but they were at least willing to respect his request for patience.

“Guards!” Ahishar’s voice echoed in the sparsely filled room. “You may open the doors of King Solomon’s hall of justice!”

The grand doors opened, and the sight left Solomon breathless. Lithe, dark women covered in oil—and hardly anything else—danced and bounded up the center aisle, leading a contingent of six Nubian soldiers matching Benaiah’s size. The Nubians’ bare chests glistened, their arms banded with gold, their faces and forearms scarred by brutally artistic carvings. A portly, sandy-skinned man dressed in a long white robe preceded a gilded conveyance borne on the shoulders of four more Nubians. Within the sheer-curtained transport reclined a most intriguing figure. A woman. Or was it a lion?

Solomon smiled.
Do I flee, or do I hunt her?
Leaning over to Ahishar, he whispered, “Princess Sekhet seems to have changed her attire since we met the morning I left for Gibeon.”

Clearing his throat and shielding their conversation with a hand to his mouth, Ahishar said, “Princess Sekhet honors her patron goddess, Sekhmet, for whom she was named. The image representing the deity bears a woman’s body and the head of a lion.” Solomon heard satisfaction in his steward’s voice. “Quite appropriate for a treaty with the son of David, whose crest is widely recognized as the Lion of Judah. Don’t you think, my lord?”

“Hmmm.” Solomon fell silent, and Ahishar resumed his posture. He had inferred by the princess’s name that she worshiped the patron goddess of physicians and healers, but to flaunt her pagan god in Solomon’s court was brazen indeed.

The Egyptian procession divided at the council couches, and only the ambassador approached the king’s throne. The Nubians lowered the veiled chamber, revealing six golden-clad priestesses who were previously hidden. Their voluminous leonine wigs matched that of their princess, making all seven women appear more feral than tame.