Love’s Sacred Song (17 page)

Jehoshaphat had climbed Mount Moreh many times, but it never seemed this far before. The procession stopped just below the natural gray precipice, and Phaltiel began his pronouncement. “Upon hearing no arguments in your favor, Kemmuel son of Jehoshaphat, you will face the punishment of death. You may now offer confession of your sins if you so wish.”

Kemmuel’s eyes registered nothing but disdain. He spit on the ground at his abba’s feet. “I confess nothing.”

Jehoshaphat’s countenance remained unchanged.

Phaltiel recounted the procedure for those gathered. “You will be offered a mixture of wine and olibanum to ease your pain.” Signaling one of the other elders to administer the potion, Phaltiel seemed pleased when Kemmuel refused it. “You will be disrobed and covered only on the front portion of your body. Then one of the witnesses will cast you from the ledge.”

Jehoshaphat’s eyes squeezed tightly at the words.

Phaltiel continued. “If the fall does not produce death, the second witness will hurl a heavy stone at your chest. In the instance that this too proves insufficient to end your misery, the Shulammites will throw stones until death. Do you understand?”

“I understand perfectly.” Kemmuel’s words were low, measured, but finally his head was bowed low.

Phaltiel turned to the two witnesses. “Who climbs the hill to cast Kemmuel from the ledge—Jehoshaphat or Reu?”

Every drop of blood drained from Reu’s face as Jehoshaphat stepped forward. “I will climb the hill with my son. My hand will judge his sins.”

•
 Song of Solomon 1:2 
•

[Beloved] Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth.

A
mighty storm swept through Shunem. Black clouds, streaks of lightning, and peals of thunder revealed Jehovah’s fury. Jehoshaphat was caught unaware while tending his flocks and quickly took shelter in a small cave on Mount Moreh. Watching the sky intently as the storm passed by, he heard a voice on the wind.
She is mine.
Lightning flashed in the sky and struck a nearby tree, splitting it in two. His head pounded with the rumbling of thunder. He covered his ears and looked up to the heavens. There it was.
Her life for Israel
, written in lightning across the sky.

Jehoshaphat bolted upright in his bed, sweat dripping into his eyes.

Jehosheba sat at his side, immediately soothing, caressing, calming. “The dream again?” she asked.

Jehoshaphat nodded, too breathless to speak. It had become more frequent since Kemmuel’s death. He’d first experienced the dream on the day before Arielah’s birth, and he’d hoped it was coincidence. But when it occurred every night for the first moon’s cycle of her life, he realized Jehovah was speaking.

“You’ve told me the lightning doesn’t say she will die,” Jehosheba whispered in the predawn silence. “It simply says,
Her life for Israel
.”

Jehoshaphat lay back and drew his wife into his arms. “True.”

“Today our daughter will meet the man she’s loved all her life, Jehoshaphat. Igal is becoming an obedient and loving son. And our neighbors have accepted your new role as prince of Israel’s tenth district.” Lifting her head off his shoulder, she met his gaze through the morning shadows. “Jehovah has blessed us, my love. The dream is a promise from a loving God, not a threat from a vengeful deity.” Her beautiful voice was a melody to his ears. She was a deep well of wisdom.

Tears flowed from the corners of his eyes and into both ears. “You know, I hate it when you make me cry in the morning.” Jehoshaphat squeezed her tighter.

In the silence that followed, he recalled Phaltiel’s reaction to Solomon’s redistricting and Jehoshaphat’s new responsibilities as prince of Shunem. “We are honored, Prince Jehoshaphat,” the chief elder had said. “The king has seen in you what we have known for many years.”

Jehoshaphat was humbled by his friend’s confidence and trust. His fears that the Shulammites would think him a traitor to the tribes and resist his support of Solomon’s reforms had been relieved in a most peculiar way. Many Shulammites confided that because he had championed God’s law in the face of Kemmuel’s rebellion, Jehoshaphat had been proven beyond reproach in their eyes. He had won their undying respect and deep sympathy. Those who might have questioned his motives before lost all doubts when Kemmuel was cast from that ledge on Mount Moreh.

Jehovah’s ways are unfathomable
, Jehoshaphat pondered this morning. “Do you miss him?” he asked, finally breaking the silence. Two Sabbaths had passed since that awful day.

“I don’t think we ever had him,” Jehosheba said sadly, “but yes, I miss him. I miss hoping for him.” Her tears moistened the bend of his elbow, where her head lay. “I hate it when you make me cry in the morning,” she said, and they both tried to laugh a little. He felt her grip tighten around him. “Will Abishag’s family be among the crowd that welcomes the king today?”

Jehoshaphat’s heart squeezed a little. “I hope so. I’ve talked to her abba, and he assures me they’re happy for Arielah, but . . .”

“But?”

“But he has warned me to be diligent and get every detail of the agreement in writing.”

A long silence stretched between them.

“She loves him,” Jehosheba said finally. “And we know Jehovah has chosen her for this purpose.” Planting a kiss on his cheek, her eyes sparkled. “What other details do we need?”

He wrapped his arms around her and smothered her with kisses. She giggled like a maiden, and he gazed into the windows of her soul. “Are you ready to prepare our daughter to meet the king of Israel?”

The thunder of horses’ hooves announced King Solomon’s approach and shook the ground beneath Arielah’s slippered feet. Lotioned and bejeweled, she felt a little silly in the blue linen robe and gemstone head covering the king’s messenger had delivered at dawn.

She’d been awakened by an awful pounding on the door in the early glow of morning. “King Solomon sends a gift for the prince’s daughter!” a royal servant had squawked louder than any rooster. Ima Jehosheba accepted the package kindly while Arielah peeked out from where her sleeping mat lay behind the cooking stones. Ima had rushed her into their bedchamber, removed Arielah’s woolen tunic, and banished her worn sandals to a shelf in the corner.

“A whole day of primping is necessary for a newly betrothed bride,” Ima had said.

“We’re not
officially
betrothed,” she reminded Ima, “until the king approves of me and signs the agreement.” Ima waved away her words like a fly from rising dough and continued primping. When finally Ima Jehosheba placed the polished bronze mirror in Arielah’s hands, the image was a stranger. Gone was the rugged shepherdess she’d seen reflected in the mountain streams. She saw herself, but better. Even her cheeks were almost healed of their blisters. She was a shepherdess dressed for a king.

Drawn back to the moment by the approaching chariots, Arielah watched the caravan race across Jezreel’s lush green plain. A veiled carriage jostled on four golden orbs. “Abba! Look! It’s as if four giant suns carry the coach across the valley!”

Jehoshaphat’s easy laughter calmed her. “Yes, my lamb, that’s Solomon’s carriage.” Leaning down, he spoke over the growing noise around them. “The king described it to me last week, but I must admit, my imagination fell short. He said it was acacia wood, and every detail—down to the last spoke—was covered by hammered gold.”

“Oh, Abba! I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”

Jehoshaphat kissed the top of her head and tilted her chin. “I have.” With a wink, he released her.

She giggled, looking right and left, and pecked a quick kiss on his cheek. The Shulammites graciously tolerated their affection, knowing abba and daughter shared a precious bond.

Jehoshaphat’s family waited at the front of an entire village. Every man, woman, and child stood behind them—in physical presence and in heart—gathered outside the cactus hedges surrounding their city wall. North and east of the prickly and the pointed, however, grew lovely vineyards and groves of fruit trees. Shunem’s landscape seemed as contradictory as her people’s frayed emotions. Of course, they were honored that Arielah would become Israel’s treaty bride, but Abishag’s shame was not forgotten.

Glancing over her shoulder, Arielah glimpsed the expectant faces of Abishag’s family. For the hundredth time, she wondered if a treaty wedding would heal their wounds or tear open half-healed scabs. Merchants’ gossip had brought hope with Prince Adonijah’s marriage proposal, but horror replaced it with word of his execution. Abishag was assumed to be in David’s harem.
Assumed
to be. No one could attest to seeing her in the palace.

Focusing again on the procession, Arielah noticed the king’s Mighty Men following Solomon’s carriage. “Abba, is it normal for a betrothal procession to include such a large military presence?”

He patted her hand and gave a shrug. “What is normal for a king?” His attention returned to the procession, but Arielah thought she sensed unspoken concern in his reply.

The parade again stole her attention—this time the royal flocks and herds. Running and leaping behind the king’s herdsmen, they left their aromatic contributions to the Jezreel Valley’s rich soil. Arielah stole another glance at Abba. It was the responsibility—and privilege—of the host to provide meals for his guest.
So why did the king bring his own flocks?
Again, was this normal, or would Abba consider the king’s flocks an insult to his hospitality?

“Look at that carriage!” Edna the matchmaker shouted, intruding on Arielah’s thoughts.

Purple and blue veils flowed through golden rings around the outer framework. Arielah longed to run to the coach and fling open the door.
Solomon, you are mine!
A slight giggle escaped her lips. Abba smiled down at her, and she was glad he didn’t know her thoughts.

Arielah had never experienced a man’s kiss, but the tenderness she witnessed between her parents made her ache for it. She saw the way their eyes held each other, the way Abba took Ima’s hand and gently closed their bedroom door each night. She allowed the giddiness of a young girl to consume her, tracing her lips with her finger.
Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth!
she thought with a playful grin.

This time she looked at Ima and discovered her looking back with a deeply furrowed brow.
Oh my.
Perhaps imas could read their daughters’ minds.

Arielah ducked her head shyly as the royal stampede pounded closer. She reached for Abba’s hand. Moments later, she felt the gentle touch of Ima’s grasp wriggling into hers. Tightening her grip on both parents, Arielah felt her hands tremble—or were theirs shaking too?

Solomon was almost here.

The treaty bride agreement was really happening.

“Be at peace, my lamb,” Abba whispered in her ear. “Your heart will win his devotion. Indeed, you were created for this moment in Israel’s history.” He squeezed her hand, and the trembling eased.

Finally the royal procession slowed, but a lone rider sped forward on his sleek stallion and skidded to a halt when he reached Arielah and her parents. He positioned his mount directly in front of the king’s carriage, effectively blocking her view. After a quick dismount, he slapped the horse on its hindquarters, sending it in the general direction of a panicked stable boy. Clearing his throat, the herald crowed, “People of Shunem, the king of Israel, Solomon, son of David, has arrived!”

He paused. When no wild applause erupted, he issued a disgruntled huff. Another attendant placed a stool on the ground in front of the carriage, and the steward stepped up to open the door.

Finally!
Arielah thrilled silently
.
Probing the cabin’s interior, her eyes caught a momentary glimpse of pillows and fine linen just before she met the glaring disdain of one of the most beautiful women she’d ever seen. She heard herself gasp. She had expected Solomon’s masculine features, but instead a second maiden emerged from the carriage! The two stepped out of the king’s coach in a flurry of linen and pearls, their eyes hurling daggers at Arielah.

The Daughters of Jerusalem. Arielah should have expected them. Abba had warned about Ahishar’s plan to “train” the Daughters of Jerusalem. Abba had understood the steward’s sinister message. Not only would the twins accompany the king on this journey, but they’d also aid in Ahishar’s quest to divide Israel.

Arielah returned the twins’ stares and considered her enemy. They stood side by side as though one would topple over if the other moved. They wore identical purple robes with gold thread woven into delicate designs. Sheer linen scarves and belts accented their soft curves. The woman on the right looked at Arielah with a superior smirk, revealing a slightly crooked front tooth. The woman on the left boasted the only other distinguishable physical difference—a beauty mark just above her snide grin. Both wore gold necklaces, rings, and bangles, accenting vibrant eye paints and flowing veils. These maidens were stunning, and everything about them was calculated to intrigue a man.

Jehoshaphat leaned close so only Arielah could hear. “They are beautiful, my lamb, but do not fear them. We do not yet understand their game, but Jehovah will give us wisdom.” Abba touched her cheek, and her heart warmed. She closed her eyes in silent gratitude. He knew her so well. In Abba’s presence, her greatest fears were exposed and conquered, and his love enfolded her like a woolen blanket.

The Daughters of Jerusalem approached. The one on the right gasped. “This little goatherd cannot be the proposed bride!” Gliding like a willow in the breeze, she offered a condescending hand. “Greetings, little shepherdess.”

Before Arielah could respond, the other twin sidled up to her sister. “My, how painful your face must have been to show such lasting scars.”

Jehoshaphat stepped forward, tipping the sisters back on their heels.

“Forgive me,” the first twin said, “we haven’t been properly introduced.” Issuing a scathing glance at the steward, she stepped back and bowed in unison with her sister.

Clearing his throat again, the steward obeyed the silent command. “I present the Daughters of Jerusalem. The fair maiden on the right is Shiphrah, and on the left is lovely Sherah.”

Arielah felt utterly exposed and intolerably flawed. An antagonizing smile spread across Shiphrah’s perfect face. “It is our duty to prepare you for the king’s harem, little shepherdess.” Lowering her voice to be heard by only Arielah and her family, she sneered. “I don’t think we’ve ever had a more impossible task.”

Fury creased Abba’s brow. He leaned in and ground out the words, “You will speak to my daughter with respect. She will be your queen.”