The Secret Book of Kings: A Novel

by Yochi Brandes

  “And many more temples for his wives’ gods,” Elisheba added in disgust.

  “The only god he didn’t build a temple for was our Qos,” Hadad said, his face turning glum. “I didn’t feel comfortable saying it to him, but the truth is that his collection was worthless because it had no Edomite women in it.”

  “He barely had any Hebrew women, either,” Elisheba said, trying to console him.

  “A collection is a collection,” Hadad concluded. “You don’t get excited about the objects that are right under your nose.”

  * * *

  Hadad’s messengers left Egypt urgently to spread the word about my return throughout Israel, also using the opportunity to introduce the nation to my new name.

  “Your annoying name has actually been received rather well,” Hadad reported to me with surprise. “It’s used in most of the songs they’re writing in honor of your return.”

  “My people care about the meanings of names, not about the way they sound,” I explained.

  “You’re telling me! Only a nation like the Hebrews is capable of calling its god Jehovah. Or is it Yahweh? How do you pronounce that word?”

  “What are you talking about? Don’t you know we never say it out loud?”

  “Of course I know. Moses taught you that your god is the One Who Must Not Be Named. And you’re still trying to tell me your people are in their right minds?”

  Despite his great joy, Hadad was also troubled by concern for my well-being, and he instructed the Egyptian soldiers escorting us home not to take their eyes off me. I tried to convince him that the protection was only necessary when we were passing near Judah, but I understood that it was pointless to argue, and I made my peace with the situation. In contrast to the small carriage in which we’d arrived in Egypt two-and-a-half years earlier, trying to appear like just another simple family traveling the roads, this time we were riding in a large and spacious four-horse chariot surrounded by twenty armed horsemen. Pharaoh Shishak had actually commanded his people to prepare an eight-horse chariot of gold for us, but Hadad explained to him that my great-grandfather Saul had been the most humble king in the world and that, unfortunately, I seemed to be taking after him.

  The most exciting part of the journey took place before we even reached Israel. During the two days we spent traveling from the Pharaoh’s palace to the city of Gaza, we told our children the truth about their family. I chose to spare them a detailed description of the murders of the seven boys, and I didn’t see the need to discuss at length the palace intrigues of Ahithophel and Bathsheba that had put Solomon on the throne, but even the little I did tell them shook their tender souls and caused a few bursts of tears. What stunned them the most, even more than the fact that their father was about to seize the throne, was the moment they realized that there was a healthy woman hiding under the mask and that woman was their grandmother.

  “She has no sores at all?” Miriam asked again and again. “Not even one?”

  “Your grandmother is beautiful, and her skin is smooth,” Elisheba said as she stroked Miriam’s hair. “And soon you will see her with your own eyes.”

  Bilhah and Benaiah wiped the tears from their eyes and added admiringly that Zeruiah, the only daughter of Sheba son of Bikri, had been the most beautiful girl in Ephraim forty years before, which was why Prince Nebat had chosen her. I didn’t want to tell my children that their grandfather had spent his life imprisoned in the palace and only got to meet their grandmother by sheer luck. The family story they had just heard was shocking enough as it was, and I thought it best for the time being, at least with regard to the subject at hand, to allow them to remain in the world of legends where a prince gets to choose the prettiest girl in the land.

  The Pharaoh’s chariot was faster than the carriage we’d arrived in, and by the middle of the fourth day we were already at the gates of Jaffa. The curtains were closed against the sunlight, so we couldn’t see what was happening outside, but suddenly we heard the sounds of music and singing. We peeked out through the window and what we saw left us speechless. Crowds of people were lining the side of the road, going wild with joy at the sight of our convoy. They were drumming, trumpeting, dancing, and singing at the tops of their lungs. We couldn’t catch the words of their songs, but we heard their calls loud and clear.

  “Jeroboam!” the crowd screamed. “We’ve missed you!”

  Hadad was agape at the sight. “Unbelievable,” he mumbled. “I never imagined that they loved you to this extent. We don’t even need to tell them you’re Saul’s great-grandson. They want you for your own sake.”

  I came out of the chariot and got on one of the horses. Many in the crowd were waving tribal flags, and I was excited to see that it was not only members of the tribe of Ephraim who had come to welcome me, but also members of the tribes of Benjamin and Manasseh. The tears ran freely down my face. I no longer cared if my people knew that I was an emotional man. “I love you, children of Rachel!” I cried in a choked-up voice.

  “We love you, Jeroboam,” they answered as one.

  I wanted to get off my horse and approach them, but Hadad was standing behind me, shouting at the soldiers not to let anyone come near me. The ride turned into a crawl, and we only reached Zeredah at night. An especially large gathering awaited us at the entrance to the town and wouldn’t let us ride on. I proposed walking to our home on foot, but Hadad ordered his soldiers to clear a path for us through the crowd and to keep me surrounded on all sides. He also rejected out of hand the suggestion that we stop at the lepers’ cave on the way. “You’ll visit your mother tomorrow morning,” he determined in a tone that brooked no argument. “Not now when the eyes of the entire nation are upon you.”

  “I no longer have secrets,” I complained.

  “You’ve waited forty years—you can wait a little longer,” came the reply.

  * * *

  The closer we got to our home, the more excited we felt, though we knew we would find it neglected and abandoned and terribly shabby in comparison to the splendid palace Shishak had given us in Egypt. How surprised we were when we discovered that the people of Ephraim had been taking care of both the house and the thicket during all the years we had been away.

  “They believed we would come back to them,” Elisheba whispered, her voice cracking.

  “They knew we would come back to them,” I said.

  Miriam was so overwhelmed that quite a few minutes passed before she noticed the figure sitting on her bed. Her cries of alarm echoed through the entire house. The first to respond was Hadad, of course, whose sharp senses surprised me anew every time. He burst into the room, sword in hand, and managed to subdue the figure, pinning it against the wall. I raced into the room behind him, took a look at the intruder, and felt my heart fluttering wildly inside me.

  “Greetings, Commander,” the uninvited guest said to Hadad. “I see that the years have weakened you not at all.”

  “Ithiel,” Hadad said, dumbfounded. “What are you doing here in the middle of the night?”

  Nadab and Abijah came in at a run, and following close behind were Elisheba, Benaiah, and Bilhah. They stared wide-eyed at the sight.

  Ithiel looked them over with curiosity and then focused his gaze on me.

  “You told the truth.”

  I approached him and hugged him with all my might.

  “Why do you love this man?” Miriam objected. “He really scared me!”

  Ithiel stood before her, got down on one knee, and asked for her forgiveness.

  “Aside from my family, there are two people I love more than anyone else in the world,” I explained to her, “and both of them are here.”

  I could tell that Hadad was touched by what I’d said, but he steeled his face and turned to give Ithiel a suspicious look. Elisheba told the children to go unpack their things and suggested to the three of us that we go out to the thicket so that we could speak without being disturbed.

  On the way outside, Ithiel put his arm aroun
d my shoulders and told me that he’d been waiting two-and-a-half years for the chance to thank me for what I’d revealed to him. In the light of the full moon I could see his eyes sparkling with love.

  “Abishag the Shunamite was willing to tell you the truth?”

  “Why are you so surprised?”

  “She was Bathsheba’s ally.”

  “A young, innocent girl is taken by force from her home and brought to the bed of an elderly king who is about to die, and you’re surprised that she falls head over heels for the only woman in the entire palace to give her a smile? After my father was murdered, she was plagued by terrible feelings of guilt, which have lasted to this day. She wanted to tell me the secret years ago, but she was worried that the revelation might make me want to take revenge. You know what? She was right. Solomon was like a father to me, but ever since I learned the truth about him, I have wanted only one thing: vengeance—and if not upon him, then at least upon his son.”

  “Forget about vengeance, Ithiel. It will lead you nowhere. If I’d had any interest in vengeance, I would have killed you the moment I found out who you were.”

  “I won’t kill Rehoboam. I have no desire to see him dead. But I won’t let him be king. The son of Solomon will not inherit his throne.”

  It was hard to believe that Ithiel could become my enemy, but I saw no other possibility. “We’re both planning to fight for the crown,” I said in pain, “because we both believe with all our hearts that becoming king would right the wrongs that were done to our ancestors.”

  “I don’t want to be king,” Ithiel said with such serenity that it made me distrust him.

  “You said you wanted to dispossess Rehoboam of his crown,” I mumbled.

  “Not in favor of me.”

  “Then in favor of whom?”

  “In favor of you, Jeroboam.” He spoke my new name so naturally.

  Hadad had been watching us throughout the conversation, his eyebrows squeezed together with suspicion, but now he gulped in astonishment.

  “You will be the next king of Israel,” Ithiel went on, “and I will stand at your side and help you manage the affairs of the kingdom. And do you know what gift you’ll receive from me?”

  I looked at him and waited for him to continue.

  “The tribe of Judah.”

  I shook my head sadly, staring at the ground. “The prophet Ahijah has foretold that the Judeans will not be part of the Kingdom of Israel.”

  “Is that some kind of punishment?” asked Ithiel.

  I didn’t answer him.

  “For the fact that my grandfather rebelled against your great-grandfather and severed Judah from Israel?”

  I stayed silent.

  Ithiel bit his lip. “Even prophets can be wrong sometimes.” I could see that he was trying to reassure himself. “I’m sure the Kingdom of Israel will be united, just the way your great-grandfather founded it.”

  We sat down on the bench, my arm around his shoulders. Hadad went on standing across from us, watching him intently. His face had softened. I asked myself if he trusted him now, or if nothing would be able to change his attitude toward him. In spite of the darkness, it seemed to me that I could see a spark of affection in his eyes. “In that case,” said Hadad, “all that’s left is to prevent Rehoboam’s coronation. The tribes of Rachel hate him already; now we need to get the tribes of Leah to love to hate him, too.”

  Even though I was used to Hadad’s style of speaking, I joined in Ithiel’s laughter. I wanted to lift his spirits after the prophet’s bitter revelation that I’d shared with him. “Why didn’t you ever make us laugh at the Palace of Candles?” he asked Hadad.

  “That’s all I needed,” groaned Hadad. “As it was, my soldiers thought too much of themselves—snooping around, being so bold as to find the tunnels I’d worked so hard to dig.”

  All at once, Ithiel’s face darkened again. “I really was Solomon’s mole,” he said extremely quietly. “But—”

  “Don’t apologize,” I said, cutting him off. “You pulled me out of Hadad’s tunnels at the very last moment. His torture had nearly killed me.”

  Hadad sat down on the other side of Ithiel and gave him a hard pat on the shoulder. “The worst is behind us. Let’s put in one last effort, and all our aspirations will be realized.” He turned to face me. “What are you up to, kid? How do you plan to disrupt Rehoboam’s coronation ceremony without having to dirty up your dainty hands by separating his head from his body?”

  The words flowed out confidently. All throughout our journey from Egypt I could see the images in my mind’s eye, and I had not a shadow of a doubt that my plan would succeed. “I plan to leave for Jerusalem right away at the head of a large delegation that will include distinguished representatives from the tribes of Rachel, and I will inform Rehoboam that we are demanding significant reductions in the tax burden. As the date of the coronation approaches, I’ll return to Jerusalem, and when the ceremony begins I’ll burst onto the stage and demand an immediate answer from him. Rehoboam will, of course, reject my demands out of hand and ignite the fury of those present. Our boys will cause havoc and prevent the prophet from anointing him with the oil. I’m sure most of the audience will join in.”

  “What if Rehoboam accedes to the demands and agrees to reduce the tax burden?” Hadad wondered.

  “My demand will be so audacious and irritating that he won’t be able to accede to it.”

  “You’re wrong,” said Ithiel with concern. “We can depend on Rehoboam to make every possible mistake, but he has a wise mother who has appointed old and experienced advisors for him. They’ll see right away that your demand is a trap, and they’ll teach him a basic principle of how to be a king: if you want the people to worship you forever, be their servant at the start. I’m afraid that Rehoboam will follow the elders’ advice and reduce the tax burden, not only for the tribes of Rachel, but also for the rest of the tribes, and the grateful Israelites will accept him as king.”

  “In that case, we’ll be forced to invite the Egyptian army here,” Hadad interrupted.

  “Absolutely not,” I said firmly. “If Rehoboam lowers the tax burden, I’ll let him to reign in peace.”

  “And give up the throne?” Hadad cried.

  “I want to be king, but it isn’t a sacred cause. The important thing is for the people of Israel to be released from the hard labor imposed upon them by Solomon and to be a free people once again, as Moses wanted.”

  Hadad was nearly suffocating. I’d never seen him so upset before. “You’re demonstrating your absolute loyalty to your people,” he said, his voice suddenly sounding old. “But what about me? I dedicated my entire life to your grandmother and to you, and now you’re throwing me to the dogs?”

  My heart ached for him. I wanted to swear that I wouldn’t rest until Edom was free, but Ithiel beat me to it, giving him a smile of reassurance. “It’ll be alright, Hadad. I’ll make sure that Rehoboam doesn’t heed the elders’ advice.”

  “How are you going to do that?” Hadad asked doubtfully.

  “I’ll tell him that his aged advisors understand nothing, and that if he wants to rule, he needs to make a show of strength because the people of Israel only understand power, and the only viable response to their audacious demand is to increase the tax burden. That’s what Pharaoh did when Moses dared to demand that he give the people of Israel three days off.” Ithiel stopped and gave a mischievous wink. “Don’t worry, I won’t say that last part to him.”

  A burst of relieved laughter erupted from Hadad’s chest. He lifted up his hand and grabbed Ithiel’s arm. “Have you heard of Hushai the Arkite? He frustrated Ahithophel’s good counsel and caused Absalom to act like a fool and be defeated by David. You, Ithiel, are going to be our Hushai. You will frustrate the elders’ good counsel and persuade Rehoboam to raise taxes instead of lowering them.”

  “I’ll make an excellent Hushai,” Ithiel said, his eyes twinkling.

  “Rehoboam’s answer has to be comple
tely unacceptable,” Hadad continued enthusiastically. “I want the crowds to leave in the middle of the ceremony so that he’s left alone on the stage. That’s exactly what his grandmother did to your father.”

  Ithiel looked at him thoughtfully, and a veil of sadness covered his eyes. “Measure for measure,” he whispered.

  Hadad got up onto his feet. “I’m going out to give the soldiers a few orders. In the meantime, the two of you should prepare Rehoboam’s response. It has to be obnoxious and insulting. That is a lethal combination.”

  The children were already asleep, so we were able to go back inside and consult with Elisheba, but we couldn’t come up with anything that all three of us agreed on. When Hadad returned, he was disappointed to find us still debating. “I can’t count on you,” he grumbled. “How long does it take to think? What’s so hard about what I asked you to do?”

  We answered despairingly that we had put together a few lines, but we weren’t sure they were good.

  “Let’s hear them,” Hadad said curiously.

  I stood across from him, placed a hand on my hip, and said in a self-important tone:

  “My father made your yoke heavy,

  “And I will add to your yoke.

  “My father also chastised you with whips,

  “But I will chastise you with scorpions.”

  “Not bad,” Hadad said, furrowing his brow. “But something is still missing. We need to come up with one more sentence, something really disgusting.”

  He stood up and paced back and forth, then stopped, spread his legs, and placed his hand on his loins. “Do you see this little thing of mine?” his voice thundered. “It’s thicker than my father’s fat hips.”

  A stunned silence fell on the room, but a moment later we exploded into laughter. Ithiel was holding his belly, Elisheba was wiping tears from her eyes, and I collapsed onto the table, gasping for breath.