The Harlot by The Side of The Road: Forbidden Tales of The Bible

by Jonathan Kirsch

  Jonadab pondered these shocking words for a moment. He was Amnon’s closest friend, perhaps his only friend, and Amnon would be king someday. And so Jonadab resolved to act as the friend of a future king ought to act.

  “Get under the covers,” he said, “and pretend that you are sick.”

  “I am sick,” said Amnon miserably.

  “We’ll send word to your father that you are ailing,” Jonadab continued. “He will be worried, of course. After all, the illness of the next king of Israel is a matter of the gravest concern. He will come to see you—”

  And Jonadab said unto him: “Lay thee down on thy bed, and feign thyself sick; and when thy father cometh to see thee, say unto him: Let my sister Tamar come, I pray thee, and give me bread to eat, and dress the food in my sight, that I may see it, and eat it at her hand.”

  —2 SAMUEL 13.5

  “So what?” said Amnon. “It’s Tamar I want to see, not my father.”

  “When the king comes to see you,” Jonadab continued, “you will ask him to send Tamar to nurse you back to health. Tell him you don’t trust the servants to prepare your meals properly. Tell him that’s why you are ill and cannot eat. ‘Let my beloved sister Tamar come and make a couple of hearty dumplings for me,’ you will tell the king. ‘Then I’ll eat out of her hand.’”

  Amnon stirred when he heard the sound of hushed voices outside the door of his quarters, and he peered out from beneath the covers to see what was astir. He heard one familiar voice—his servant’s—and a couple that he did not recognize. One voice belonged to a woman, and his heart raced at the thought that Jonadab’s wild plan might have actually succeeded in bringing Tamar to his bedchamber. Then he let his head fall back against the pillow—and waited.

  Quite to Amnon’s surprise, the first and crucial step in his cousin’s plan had been successful. King David himself, attended by a small crowd of guards and retainers, had appeared briefly the previous day, spent not more than three minutes in Amnon’s presence, and then bustled out again without saying more than three words. The king had seemed unconcerned over his son’s ill health, just as Amnon had expected, and seemed to take more interest in the view from the window of Amnon’s room than in Amnon himself. But at least the king had listened to Jonadab’s somber appraisal of Amnon’s ill health, and he had even stayed long enough to hear Amnon recite his lines. “Let my sister come and take care of me,” Amnon had pleaded, “and I will nibble on those luscious heart-cakes right out of her hands.” After his father left, he had fretted over his choice of words and his unfeigned ardor in speaking them—perhaps the king would detect what he really wanted from Tamar.

  So Amnon lay down, and feigned himself sick; and when the king was come to see him, Amnon said unto the king: “Let my sister Tamar come, I pray thee, and make me a couple of cakes in my sight, that I may eat at her hand.”

  —2 SAMUEL 13:6

  Then David sent home to Tamar, saying: “Go now to thy brother Amnon’s house, and dress him food.”’ So Tamar went to her brother Amnon’s house; and he was lying down.

  —2 SAMUEL 13:7–8

  “Do you think it will work?” Amnon had asked anxiously when the house was finally cleared of visitors.

  “Of course it will work,” Jonadab had responded cheerfully. “And when you have Tamar in your arms, dear cousin, please do not forget who put her there!”

  Now Amnon waited, breathless again, his heart racing, as the servant made a noise at the door and peeked inside the dark room.

  “Lord, your sister Tamar is calling on you,” said the servant in a whisper. “Shall I send her away?”

  Amnon sat upright in bed and fairly shouted “No!” Then, fearing that he sounded rather too healthy, he reclined again and spoke in a hoarse whisper. “No, no, do not send her away—I am always happy to see my cherished sister.”

  A moment later, the very thing that had occupied his long hours of reverie for so many days finally came to pass. Tamar stood before him, and his heart gladdened at the expression of concern and even affection that he imagined he saw in her face.

  “Thank you, dearest Tamar,” he croaked, “for coming to me.”

  Tamar, more curious than caring, cast a long appraising glance at Amnon.

  “Father sent a messenger to summon me,” she said. “‘Go to Amnon,’ the messenger said, ‘and fix him some dumplings.’”

  Tamar paused for one long moment, as if to signal to Amnon how strange it seemed to her to be summoned to his house for such an odd favor. Then she continued: “The king commanded me to come, and so here I am.”

  And she took dough, and kneaded it, and made cakes in his sight, and did bake the cakes. And she took the pan, and poured them out before him; but he refused to eat.

  —2 SAMUEL 13:8–9

  “Thank you, dear sister,” Amnon said, “for attending me in my illness.”

  “You don’t seem very ill, dear brother,” said Tamar. She paused again before adding: “Thank God.”

  “Yes, thank God, I am feeling much better now that you are finally here,” said Amnon, watching her with a fixed gaze that unnerved her. “Suddenly, I find myself very hungry. Will you make some dumplings for me as I asked?”

  “Yes, brother,” Tamar allowed, “that’s what I came here to do.”

  Now Tamar gestured to a young woman who stood in the corridor with a covered basket, and the servant began unpacking the ingredients for the meal: a jar of flour, a jug of water, a small cruse of oil, some seasonings folded into the corner of a cloth and tied with string, and an earthenware mold in the shape of a heart. The servant set to work at the big fireplace at the far end of the room, and soon the water was boiling. As Amnon watched in utter silence but with rapt attention, Tamar kneaded the water and flour into dumplings, pressed the thick dough into the mold, dropped them into the boiling water, then fished them out again with a long wooden spoon that the servant handed to her. An aromatic scent of spices and yeasty dough wafted through the darkened room. Finally, Tamar heaped the steaming dumplings onto a platter and handed it to her servant, who crossed the room and stood dutifully at the side of Amnon’s bed.

  “There’s what you wanted,” called Tamar. “Go ahead and eat.”

  Amnon looked at the platter of dumplings, then back at Tamar, and finally he glared at the others who stood expectantly around the room—a couple of Tamar’s servants, and his own servant, too, and even one of the youngsters who tended the stove in the kitchen and now sat in the doorway with wide eyes. Everyone was watching him; everyone, it seemed, wanted to witness the end of the remarkable encounter between Amnon and his sister.

  And Amnon said: “Have out all men from me.” And they went out every man from him. And Amnon said unto Tamar: “Bring the food into the chamber, that I may eat of thy hand.” And Tamar took the cakes which she had made, and brought them into the chamber to Amnon her brother.

  —2 SAMUEL 13:9–10

  And when she had brought them near unto him to eat, he took hold of her, and said unto her: “Come lie with me, my sister.” And she answered him: “Nay, my brother, do not force me; for no such thing ought to be done in Israel; do not thou this wanton deed….”

  —2 SAMUEL 13.11-12

  “Get out!” he cried out, suddenly finding his old voice and shouting harshly at the servants. “Get everybody away from me!”

  All of them stirred and scattered. Tamar’s servant handed her the plate of dumplings, waited a moment for her nod, and then left the room. His own servant was the last one to leave the room, and he thought to pull the door closed behind him. Only Tamar remained, standing solemnly near the window and watching her brother in silence from across the room.

  Amnon shivered uncontrollably as he lay alone in his bed, and he felt suddenly flushed with fever, as if he really were ill after all.

  “Bring the food to me,” Amnon called, his voice suddenly thick and hoarse, “so I can eat out of your hand.”

  Tamar approached the bed where Amnon lay, ca
sting a brief glance toward the door, and held out the platter of dumplings.

  Amnon reached out and seized the wrist of her right hand. The platter fell to the floor and the dumplings rolled in the dust. She cried out in fright and surprise, but Amnon held her fast and pulled her bodily toward him.

  “Come on, sister,” he growled. “Lie with me!”

  Tamar stared at her brother and leaned away from him with the weight of her body, but he did not let go of her wrist. Her skin began to burn as he twisted her wrist to force her to come closer. She cast one more desperate glance at the door, and then cried out.

  “Brother—don’t!” she ordered. “I will not lie with you!”

  Amnon grinned crazily at Tamar’s words, as if he were encouraged in his attack by the sound of her voice speaking aloud his secret thoughts, and he pulled her toward him with new strength.

  “A brother and sister together—such a thing isn’t done in Israel!” Tamar said. “Don’t commit such a sacrilege!”

  Amnon relaxed his grip ever so slightly, then tugged sharply on her arm, and Tamar tumbled headfirst into his bed. He rolled on top of her, pinning her long legs with his own legs and pressing down on her hips with his own hips. Soon, only her head was free, and she whipped back and forth like a snake.

  “What will become of me, brother!” she pleaded. “Where will I take myself after you have shamed me? And what about you, dear brother—you will make yourself an outcast in Israel, and you will have nowhere to hide from your deed.”

  Amnon considered these words for one grave moment, and Tamar sensed an opportunity to persuade her mad brother to break off his assault.

  “Perhaps there is a way, Amnon!” she whispered urgently but intimately into his ear, her voice now assured and commanding. “Speak to the king! Ask him for my hand in marriage! The king won’t keep me from you, I promise!”

  “And I, whither shall I carry my shame? and as for thee, thou wilt be as one of the base men in Israel. Now therefore, I pray thee, speak unto the king; for he will not withhold me from thee” Howbeit he would not hearken unto her voice; but being stronger than she, he forced her, and lay with her.

  —2 SAMUEL 13:13–14

  But Tamar’s words seemed to provoke Amnon rather than reassure him, and he jerked his head away at the very sound of her words: The king won’t keep me from you…. Abruptly, Amnon renewed his assault on Tamar. He tore away her maiden’s garb and pawed at her body with both hands, using his own body as a weapon to overpower her. Amnon had his way with his sister in a series of brutal thrusts that betrayed more anger than passion. A few moments later, it was over. Amnon released his sister from his grip, then rolled away and seemed to sleep. Tamar, bruised and bleeding, lay next to him as she pondered what she ought to do now. She surprised herself by not weeping, and she pondered the faint sensation of some warm fluid turning cold on her bare thighs. Was it blood, she thought to herself, or something else?

  Amnon awoke a few minutes later and looked at the ravaged young woman who lay beside him, mostly naked and marked here and there with ugly bruises that were even now turning black-and-blue. Suddenly a wave of revulsion not unlike nausea welled up out of his belly and choked him. Whatever it was he had felt toward Tamar a few moments before—love or lust or some other unspeakable passion—now turned instantly and massively into its opposite. The very sight of Tamar sickened him, and so he planted a bare foot on her naked hip and kicked her out of the bed with one powerful thrust. Tamar tumbled to the floor, where she lay among the dumplings she had offered him a few moments earlier.

  “Get up!” he said, fighting back the inexplicable rage that tasted like bile in the back of his throat. “Go away!”

  Tamar struggled to her feet and stood unsteadily in front of him. The bodice of her gown was torn on both sides, exposing her breasts and her battered hips, and blood oozed from her nose and the corner of her mouth and between her legs.

  “Don’t send me out like this, brother!” she said in a low voice that barely concealed her own dangerous rage. “To send me into the street like this is even worse than—”

  Tamar fell suddenly silent, and Amnon started shouting for his servant.

  “Get this thing away from me!” he bellowed. “Put her out! And bolt the door behind her!”

  Then Amnon hated her with exceeding great hatred; for the hatred wherewith he hated her was greater than the love wherewith he had loved her. And Amnon said unto her: “Arise, be gone.” And she said unto him: “Not so, because this great wrong in putting me forth is worse than the other that thou didst unto me.” But he would not hearken unto her. Then he called his servant that ministered unto him, and said: “Put now this woman out from me, and bolt the door after her.”—Now she had a garment of many colours upon her; for with such robes were the king’s daughters that were virgins apparelled.—And his servant brought her out, and bolted the door after her.

  —2 SAMUEL 13:15–18

  And Tamar put ashes on her bead, and rent her garment of many colours that was on her; and she laid her hand on her head, and went her way, crying aloud as she went.

  And Absalom her brother said unto her: “Hath Amnon thy brother been with thee? but now hold thy peace, my sister; he is thy brother; take not this thing to heart.” So Tamar remained desolate in her brother Absalom’s house.

  —2 SAMUEL 13:19–20

  The servant of the future king of Israel obeyed his master, and Tamar found herself sprawled in the courtyard outside the door of Amnon’s house. She struggled once again to her feet, and she stood with the bearing that befitted the daughter of the king. She covered herself as best she could in the torn and tattered gown. But she did not set off in the direction of the palace. Instead, she headed toward Absalom’s house, weeping bitterly as she made her way through the curious crowd.

  But when king David heard of all these things, he was very wroth. And Absalom spoke unto Amnon neither good nor bad; for Absalom hated Amnon, because he had forced his sister Tamar.

  —2 SAMUEL 13:21–22

  Absalom was summoned by the house servants to the entry where his sister had collapsed. He tried to sooth her in his own clumsy way as he led her to a bedchamber where she might find some privacy and some rest.

  “Hush, sister, it could have been worse—at least it was your brother and not a stranger,” he said by way of consolation. “Don’t take it to heart.”

  But his words only seemed to provoke her, and he decided to leave her alone with her grief for awhile. When he returned, to his amazement, he saw that Tamar had heaped ashes on her head and rent her garment like one in mourning.

  Tamar put on the black garb of bereavement and never took it off again, and she spent the rest of her days in desolation under the roof of her brother’s house.

  When David heard of the outrage that had been committed against his daughter by his eldest son, he thundered and cursed and generally made a proper show of kingly temper to all who were in attendance at that terrible moment—but he did nothing more than that. Absalom waited in vain for the day when the mighty King of Israel would chasten the man who had raped the king’s daughter. But the day never came, and soon it appeared that David had forgotten the whole unpleasant incident.

  Absalom said nothing more of the matter to the king or anyone else, including the desolate Tamar. Except for the fact that he refused to speak a single word to Amnon, good or ill, it appeared that Absalom, too, had forgotten what had happened to Tamar. Then, fully two years later, Absalom arranged for a banquet to celebrate the sheepshearing in Baal-hazor. He invited King David and all of his sons, including Amnon, to attend the festivities. Every one of the princes accepted Absalom’s invitation, even the unsuspecting Amnon, who regarded the banquet as a pitiable effort by Absalom to ingratiate himself with the future king after his long and insulting silence. Only King David declined to make the journey to Baal-hazor and join his sons at the banquet table.

  A great disappointment it was to Absalom that his father
was not there. Absalom would have preferred David to see with his own eyes how Absalom gave the command to his men-at-arms: “Strike down Amnon!” He would have preferred David to see how Amnon, silly with wine, struggled so comically to protect himself against the sword blows. He would have preferred David to see his firstborn son bleeding to death like a slaughtered calf. Then, Absalom thought to himself, David would have realized how a man should behave who is worthy to sit on the throne of Israel.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  THE RAPE OF TAMAR

  The Politics of Love and Hate

  in the Court of King David

  DAVIDISM THE CONSPIRACY OF THE “LIBIDO CAKES”

  “A CHARIOT AND HORSES AND FIFTY MEN” HEAT

  “WONDERFUL WAS THY LOVE TO ME”

  THE BLESSING AND THE CURSE

  “THEY SHALL NOT HURT NOR DESTROY”

  Much of the Book of Samuel is the work of an anonymous biblical author who seems to possess an intimate knowledge of the official history and the dirty little secrets of King David and his royal family. The Court Historian, as he is sometimes called, is not merely an archivist and chronicler in service to an ancient potentate—he has been called “the first true historian,”1 and the Book of Samuel is regarded as one of the earliest and most enduring works of literature and history in the Western tradition. The story of Tamar illustrates how the Court Historian uses an intimate scandal to illuminate the destiny of a nation: Amnon’s private crime against his sister sets into motion a chain reaction of very public crimes that shake the throne of King David and, in a real sense, continue to resonate down through history.