How could he help her? The harem was like a kingdom—of women. While other nations allowed eunuchs to provide male levelheadedness, Israel refused them, calling their disfigurement an abomination. Solomon remembered Ima Bathsheba’s torturous days in Abba’s harem until Abba built her a home on the western ridge. Ima, at least, worshiped Jehovah. The foreign wives were spurned for blasphemy as well as for beauty. Solomon ruled Israel, but his wives ruled the harem—a complex world of bitterness and betrayal.
“Shhh.” He held her as she cried. “I didn’t realize how difficult the last two years have been.” The lovely faces of his Moabite and Edomite wives flashed before him. At least Naamah had conceived right away, which had positioned her as first wife. Stroking Naamah’s hair, he let her tears subside before tilting up her chin. “I cannot allow you to teach my son to worship a pagan god, Naamah.” She started to protest, but Solomon pressed a silencing finger to her lips. “However, you may teach him of the Ammonite people.” He paused to read her expression and consider his next words. “And you may continue to worship Molech in the privacy of your chamber—as long as you don’t announce it to the Israelite women.” The smile that lit her face soothed his soul, and the kiss placed on his lips sent fire through his blood.
“Thank you, my lord,” she said with a hurried retreat. “May I go check on Rehoboam, to see if he’s at rest?”
Solomon’s heart plummeted. “Of course. Go.” He watched her disappear behind the double cedar doors, a new concern now foremost on his mind. He and Abba had reached a trade agreement with Egypt, and Pharaoh’s daughter was scheduled to arrive within the moon’s cycle as Solomon’s new treaty bride. What if this Egyptian princess became as unsettled as Naamah? Women’s tears were troubling, but if Pharaoh’s daughter sent embittered reports back to her homeland, Solomon would deal with more than a disquieted harem. He could be faced with an Egyptian invasion.
“Guard!” he shouted, walking toward the doors. The great cedar panel swung open on iron hinges.
“Yes, my lord?” The man nodded.
“Summon Ahishar to my chamber. I must speak with the high steward immediately.” As the soldier backed out of the room, Solomon added, “You might as well assemble the full council in the throne hall. Despite the late hour, Ahishar will need to meet with them after he hears what’s on my mind.”
•
1 Kings 1:7–8
•
[Before David died,] Adonijah conferred with Joab . . . and with Abiathar the priest, and they gave him their support. But Zadok the priest, Benaiah son of Jehoiada, [and] Nathan the prophet . . . did not join Adonijah.
A
hishar scanned the faces of the most powerful men in Israel. Eight royal officials slumped and yawned on cushioned couches, lining both sides of the long aisle leading to Solomon’s throne.
“Why were we yanked from our dreams in the middle of the night?” groused old Abiathar, the high priest.
“We haven’t even gone home yet,” one of the younger priests said. “We just finished anointing King David’s body after the servants prepared and washed him.” A moment of sadness paused the group before more complaining began.
Ahishar listened as protests filled the two-story throne hall. Of the king’s ten royal officials, four of those seated were devout Sons of Judah and four were loyal to a united Israel. Benaiah, the ninth advisor, was loyal to the king alone and attended council meetings only when Solomon was present. Ahishar, the tenth advisor and leader of the Sons of Judah, held the majority vote, thereby wielding the greatest power of all. He stood before the king’s council and allowed himself a cryptic smile.
When I lead Judah to victory over Israel’s northern tribes, I will be your king, and you will not complain like nagging wives.
“Thank you for gathering so quickly at such a late hour,” Ahishar said, bowing in feigned humility. Fixing his eyes on the royal secretary, he scratched his long, slender nose—an established signal that the next topic was significant to the Sons of Judah. “Elihoreph, King Solomon has considered this a matter of extreme urgency. We must vote on it tonight and fill the necessary positions before the burial procession in the morning.”
As chief secretary and fellow Son of Judah, Elihoreph was Ahishar’s most trusted ally—if a snake could trust a fox. The secretary sat a little straighter, poised his hand over the wax tablet, and gripped the stylus with white knuckles.
“King Solomon has asked that I choose two young virgins to facilitate his foreign wives’ transition into Judean life.”
When Ahishar took a breath, old Abiathar inserted a sarcastic snort. “You called me out of my warm bed to talk about women in King Solomon’s harem?” The old priest’s bristly gray eyebrows knit together.
Ahishar pinned him with a stare. “Is it only conspiracies that wrest you from slumber, my lord?” He could see the verbal jab hit its mark. Color drained from Abiathar’s cheeks. The old high priest had recently changed allegiance like the Great Sea changes tide. Though Abiathar was a Levite priest and had no proof the Sons of Judah existed, he had been helpful in Adonijah’s attempt to steal Solomon’s throne. When the coup failed, both the prince and the priest received mercy from King Solomon in return for their promised loyalty. Now Abiathar’s word held as much honor as a cracked clay cup.
“A conspiracy would indeed stir my ire,” the old priest answered, stoic now. “I do not wish to see King Solomon hurt again.”
Uneasy eyes searched the marble tiles. All the king’s advisors felt the sting of Prince Adonijah’s rebellion—for very different reasons. Those loyal to King David realized they should have publicly supported Solomon earlier. The Sons of Judah mourned the loss of their leader when Solomon banished Prince Adonijah to his home in En Rogel.
The day after the uprising, Ahishar had sent word to the secret society:
We meet tomorrow to choose a new leader.
At the meeting, when others voiced fear that the investigation of Adonijah’s coup would uncover their centuries-old existence, Ahishar disagreed. “It provides the perfect distraction for the ultimate civil war. Judah will finally conquer the northern ten tribes,” he’d said. His rousing speech had secured his leadership, which had reached new heights with tonight’s commission from the king.
“As I was saying . . .” Ahishar cleared his throat and continued. “Solomon’s foreign wives bring handmaids from their native lands, and the two virgins I choose—we’ll call them ‘friends’—will teach the foreign wives about harem life. These ‘friends’ must be thoroughly familiar with palace propriety, the City of David, and the unique . . . shall we say,
challenges
of royal living.”
“Why now, Ahishar?” Zadok asked.
The throne hall fell silent, and Ahishar’s heart skipped a beat.
Zadok was an old priest like Abiathar, but he was vastly different in wisdom and integrity. Zadok spoke little and said much. He heard the message behind words and read the intentions of a glance. He was one of the three men responsible for Adonijah’s defeat, and Ahishar knew Zadok was measuring him now.
Swallowing hard, Ahishar said, “The Egyptian princess is scheduled to arrive after the thirty-day grieving period, and King Solomon asks that the maidens be ready to assist his new wife immediately upon her arrival. Since our king will announce the beginning of grieving tomorrow, and no work may be done during the time, I must choose the two maidens tonight.” Ahishar’s words tumbled out like a naughty child offering excuses.
Zadok nodded. Silence. His cloudy eyes seemed to search the corners of Ahishar’s soul. Did he know the two women Ahishar had chosen were at the core of his plan to become king?
The high steward’s mouth was too dry to swallow, too dry to speak. He must say something! “Good question, Zadok!” he blurted out, much louder than intended. “Anyone else?”
Elihoreph lifted his eyes from his stylus and clay tablet, offering a calming stare. “And who do you have in mind for this distinguished position of ‘Wives’ Ambassadors’?”
The palace steward dragged in a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and nodded gratefully to Elihoreph. “Though the chief secretary’s title, ‘Wives’ Ambassadors,’ is quite suitable, I’ve chosen a more descriptive label—‘Daughters of Jerusalem.’” Elihoreph offered a disappointed sniff and recorded the title on his tablet while Ahishar continued. “‘Daughters of Jerusalem’ rings like a well-played timbrel and emphasizes their indisputable heritage. I’ve chosen the twin daughters of Bethuel, the royal tailor.” Ahishar paused for the length of a heartbeat and added, “I believe many of you know their ima, Miriam.” He watched with wicked delight as every face registered recognition, and silence wrapped the room like burial rags.
Miriam was well acquainted with most of the men in the room. Her husband, Bethuel, had become the city’s most fashionable tailor and the court’s most gullible buffoon. While Bethuel sewed ornate couches and pillows for the king’s highest-ranking officials, his wife enjoyed intimate relations with his customers, opening political doors a tailor’s needle and thread could never unlock. Their twin daughters spent most of their lives waiting for their parents at the palace and had consequently grown up alongside royal heirs and noblemen’s children.
But the maidens had learned more than manners of royalty. They were experts in deceit and seduction, second only to their ima Miriam.
“Our Daughters of Jerusalem will teach Solomon’s current foreign wives to worship Jehovah and respect our heritage,” Ahishar explained lightly, keeping his true intent carefully hidden. “And I will work with Shiphrah and Sherah to ensure that any future foreign wives report a joyous marriage to their homeland. In this way, we will aid the Lord’s prophecy for Solomon’s reign and enjoy peace with nations on every side.” A wry smile raised one corner of his lips. “After all, a happy harem means a peaceful palace.”
The advisors nodded and murmured congratulations to each other, though none had participated in the decision. Ahishar masked a wave of disgust. How could these men be satisfied with their crumbs of power when a banquet of ambition lay before them? Had they no imagination? Even his fellow Sons of Judah seemed fooled by the duties he’d concocted for the Daughters of Jerusalem. Couldn’t they see that when Shiphrah and Sherah served the exact
opposite
purpose in Solomon’s harem, Judah and Israel would finally be forced into civil war?
The twins would encourage the king’s five foreign wives to worship their pagan gods, thereby enraging Judeans and Israelites alike. The Daughters of Jerusalem would then ostracize the few northern Israelite wives of both David’s and Solomon’s harems, showing blatant favoritism to the royal Judean women. When the Israelite wives complained—and they would most certainly complain—Shiphrah and Sherah would facilitate their grievances to their families back in northern Israel, hoping to stir more hostility. With reported paganism and favoritism rampant in the harem, northern Israel would undoubtedly strike, and King Solomon would be forced to declare war.
Ahishar’s smile widened.
But will Judah fight for a king who allows his women to worship pagan gods and rule his household?
Judah would demand a stronger leader, and Ahishar would muster allegiance from the well-trained Judean military. Their five hundred thousand professional soldiers could overpower the ill-prepared eight hundred thousand northern tribesmen armed with winnowing forks and scythes.
Solomon’s youth will be his downfall
, Ahishar delighted silently,
and Judah will be mine—the nation she was meant to be.
Realizing the room was silent and all eyes were on him, Ahishar felt his cheeks burn. “Forgive me, my friends,” he said, shaking his head as if rattling stray thoughts aside. “I was just contemplating how much more smoothly King Solomon’s daily life can progress if he can live in peace with his women.” Unfurling a parchment, Ahishar laid it on the edge of the platform and lifted a candle from its base. “This decree affirms your support of the Daughters of Jerusalem. You may affix your personal seals to this document as your vote of approval.” Tipping the candle, he dripped a dollop of beeswax at the bottom and tugged at his leather necklace, lifting his seal from beneath his robe. He rolled his small cylinder across the warm wax as the first vote. “Next?”
Seven of the men rose from their couches, but Abiathar, the old high priest, shouted, “Wait!” The advisors paused and glanced in his direction. “I have more questions. I believe we should discuss this further,” he said, searching the faces of his compatriots for support.
Instead, the other council members exchanged awkward glances and looked to Ahishar for rescue. The palace high steward issued a subtle nod to four rough-looking soldiers at the rear of the throne hall. The guards advanced and stood directly behind Abiathar’s couch.
“Palace matters fall under my purview, my friend,” Ahishar said. “And as you said before, it’s hardly a matter to pull you away from your warm bed. Why discuss it further?”
Elihoreph was the first council member to step forward and press his seal into a fresh dollop of wax. The other Sons of Judah followed, their confident strides assuring Ahishar of their support, even in matters of which they had no knowledge. The high steward nodded graciously, more certain than ever that the less they knew, the more power he wielded.
Next came the Israelite loyalists, and finally Abiathar. Hesitating beside the parchment, seal poised in his hand, he whispered, “I know you are up to something, Ahishar, but without proof or Benaiah’s strong presence, I cannot determine what.” His bristly eyebrows drew together, creating a single tuft like lamb’s wool above his eyes. “But I suppose two silly maidens in a harem can’t cause much harm.” Abiathar sighed and affixed his final seal to the parchment.
Nodding silent direction to the burly Judean watchmen, Ahishar left no doubt that the meeting was over. “Thank you, gentlemen, for your faithful service to our king.” The watchmen opened the rear doors, and the soft sounds of mourners’ wails filled the courtroom. “Please return to your chambers and get some sleep. We convene court early for a few last items of business before we bury our beloved King David in the morning.”
Sober nods and glistening eyes were the only answer. As retreating sandals exited the throne hall, Ahishar’s expression remained somber, but he silently reveled in this victory. One step closer to Judah’s rise to power, he ascended the marble stairs and gazed at King David’s throne. Glancing right and then left to ensure privacy, he melted into the finely embroidered purple cushions, placing his hands on the lion’s-head armrests.
This throne will be mine someday
, he thought
,
inhaling the overpowering aroma of cedar.
A heavy wall tapestry fluttered. “Who’s there?” he said, leaping from the throne.
“So, my palace weasel, it appears the Sons of Judah continue undaunted though my rebellion failed.” Prince Adonijah appeared out of the shadows and approached the dais. “Shall I bow, Ahishar?”
The steward’s heart pounded. “No, my lord! No! I had no idea anyone was watching!”
“Obviously. A man can be executed as a traitor for sitting on the king’s throne.”
Adonijah’s smirk sent Ahishar’s mind reeling.
I am leader of the Sons of Judah now. You had your chance to be king and squandered it with shortsighted planning.
But his success rested on the ability to deceive. “My lord Adonijah, I fear for your safety. It was my understanding that King Solomon banished you to your home in En Rogel.”
Adonijah’s face shaded, red as a pomegranate. “Solomon did not banish me! I chose to return home for a time, but I am the rightful leader of the Sons of Judah, and I will be king!”
Ahishar bowed once more. “I meant no disrespect, my lord, and of course, you as King David’s son are the rightful leader of the Sons of Judah.” Ahishar had to think quickly. Adonijah’s return could draw unwanted attention to the Sons’ activities. The Mighty Men would undoubtedly be scrutinizing Adonijah’s every move.
I must divert his attention from the Sons of Judah.
“What is this plan about the Daughters of Jerusalem, Ahishar? If you’re taking care of the details, I assume it somehow benefits the Sons of Judah—and you.” Adonijah tugged at his collar, covering the fingernail scars on his neck.
Ahishar smiled at the rogue prince. “Ah, yes. I believe you might remember Shiphrah and Sherah, my lord. The twin virgins of Bethuel, the royal tailor. They once resisted your advances”—the steward paused and then bowed—“foolishly, of course.”