‘May I beg a kindness, my lady?’ he asks.
‘Of course,’ I reply coldly, excusing myself from a Reubenite who served with Uriah.
‘You are the only one who can speak to Solomon – to the king – on my behalf.’
‘Isn’t it enough that he has pardoned you? What more do you want?’
‘No, it's not for myself... well, not only. It's for Abishag.’
‘What about her?’ My chest constricts.
‘I am the one who brought her to my father.’
‘I’m quite aware of that.’
‘She's my mother's kinswoman. I’ve known her – I’ve loved her – since she was a girl.’
‘She's still only twelve!’
‘That's why I’ve waited until now. I lent her to my father because I knew she would please him. But I was sure that he couldn’t please her.’
‘And you blazoned his failure to the world!’
‘It was wrong, I know. I’ve repented and made a sin offering. But my desire for Abishag hasn’t changed. I want to marry her.’
I look at him in consternation. To ask this, which would be widely interpreted as an act of rebellion, and, what's more, to ask for my help, is the height of folly. Then again, no one could be that foolish without being sincere. ‘What are you thinking of?’ I ask, in the motherly tone that Solomon so resents. ‘Don’t you realise what it means to take one of the dead king's concubines? Have you forgotten your brother Absalom?’
‘But Abishag wasn’t his concubine. He lay beside her but only as I might lie beside Shephatiah or Elishua. He didn’t couple with her. What a thought!’ He winces. ‘She's a virgin. Marrying her is no different to marrying one of the maidservants who washed my father's linen.’
I am moved by his candour. He has lost so much; what harm would it do for Solomon to grant his wish? Not only would his magnanimity win him credit, but Adonijah's gratitude would ensure his support. ‘I can’t promise anything,’ I say, ‘but I’ll do what I can for you... for you both.’
‘My lady,’ he replies, bowing and kissing my hand.
I wait for the next council to put his request. Solomon has summoned me to attend, along with those of his brothers – Adonijah himself, Shephetiah, Ithream and Ibhar – who were counsellors to his father. Even if Shobab and Shammua are too young, I urge him to find a place for sixteen-year-old Nathan, but he refuses, telling me bluntly to solicit no more favours for my sons. Wounded, I take my seat.
Before opening the proceedings, Solomon surveys the chamber with an air of surprise. ‘I ordered Joab and Abiathar to appear. Who can tell me where they are?’
‘In the tabernacle, my lord,’ Zadok says.
‘Together?’
‘Abiathar is performing the daily censing and Joab has sought sanctuary. Both of them fear that they’ve offended you.’
‘Not me but my father,’ Solomon says solemnly. ‘Days before he died, he called me to his bedside and told me that, if I wanted to secure my throne, I must rid myself of my enemies. I should put to death his kinsman Joab, who slew Abner, King Saul's great general, in cold blood. Abiathar had been no less treacherous but, given his service to the Ark, I should simply banish him to his lands at Anathoth.’ He turns to Benaiah. ‘My father's judgement is mine. Take your men and go at once to the tabernacle to see it carried out.’
‘But my lord, if Joab has sought sanctuary...’ Benaiah says.
‘His guilt debars him. Drag him away and, if he resists, kill him on the spot. Even at the foot of the altar. It's not you who defile it with his blood, but he who defiles it with his presence.’
‘As you command, my lord!’ Benaiah leaves, and I gaze at Solomon in disbelief. I begged him repeatedly to visit his father in the last weeks of his life but he refused, claiming that it would be both painful and pointless since he was unable to utter an intelligible sentence, let alone offer advice. Despite my dismay, I trust that, after such severe rulings, he will be disposed to look more kindly on Adonijah's request, which I kneel to put to him.
‘Mother, what is this?’ he asks harshly. ‘Stand up!’
‘Not until you’ve agreed to grant my petition.’
‘Not until I know what it is.’
‘I speak on behalf of your brother, Adonijah.’
‘Stand up!’ Solomon steps down from the throne and wrenches my arm. ‘Whatever it is, say it to my face, not to my feet.’
‘Your brother entreats that you allow him to marry your father's maidservant, Abishag.’
‘What? Am I hearing you correctly? Are you Bathsheba, who professes to devote her every waking thought to my welfare?’ I feel the eyes of the entire council boring into my skull. ‘Don’t you see what he's asking? Why did Absalom lie with all ten of my father's abandoned concubines? Ten!’ He shudders. ‘Why did my father court the lifelong hatred of Princess Michal by lying with her mother?’
‘But Abishag wasn’t the king's concubine, let alone his wife. She sat with him, sang for him and soothed his distress.’
‘So? What matters isn’t what is but what is seen to be. Who taught me that, Mother?’
‘I was wrong.’
‘I’m amazed... no, I’m ashamed. I thought you were strong-willed, deaf to blandishments, but you’re as weak as every woman. You’ve allowed this false brother – this traitor to my father and myself – to beguile you. Benaiah!’ He scans the chamber. ‘No, of course. Guards, take this man outside’ – he points to Adonijah – ‘and hang him.’ The guards advance on Adonijah as if they were bringing a wild roe to bay. He cowers behind Ibhar and Ithream, using them as shields, while they stand stock-still, looking as horrified by one brother's cravenness as the other's cruelty. The guards prise Adonijah's fingers from their belts and drag him out, screaming and pleading.
‘Do you understand now?’ Solomon asks, drawing his face close to mine. ‘No more meddling; no more entreating. You take charge of the women's quarters and leave me to take charge of the kingdom.’ Meeting his gaze, I detect a cold fury – almost a hatred – and wonder whether everything I have done has been in vain and he would have been content for Adonijah or any of his brothers to wear the crown while he worked on the scrolls with Nathan. Banishing the thought, I watch while he returns to the throne and orders the steward to pitch a tent on the roof.
‘Then at nightfall, bring Abishag the Shunammite to me. Let the torches be lit so that the whole city can see us. She is my goods, my chattel. She is as much my flesh as the beasts in my stables... as the meat in my dish. I am King David's son and all that he possessed is mine. Tonight I shall lie with his woman. Tomorrow I shall lay the cornerstone of the temple.’
The Anointed Page 32
