Love’s Sacred Song

by Mesu Andrews

Igal’s head snapped up, his face awash with fear.

  “At some point, my king, we all need mercy,” Jehoshaphat said. “Just as moments ago, you needed mine.”

  Solomon faltered. The words were true, but . . . “How can I know Arielah will be safe in your household?”

  “How can I know she will be safe in yours?” Jehoshaphat’s words weren’t sharp or unkind, but they slapped Solomon like an offended maiden.

  Remembering Jehoshaphat’s concerns during their negotiations, Solomon placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Just because Benaiah lost his son at war doesn’t mean your Arielah will be lost at the palace, my friend.” An abba’s satisfied smile confirmed the gathering calm, and Solomon lifted his voice to all Shulammites. “I am honored to receive Arielah, daughter of Jehoshaphat, as Israel’s treaty bride! Tonight we sign the agreement!”

  The crowd erupted in celebration, and Solomon thought the city walls might come tumbling down. Jehoshaphat, face beaming, slapped Igal on the back and extended his hand to Arielah, inviting her return to his side. She glanced at Solomon with a shy smile as she stepped away. He felt strangely lonely, somehow barren and cold on the side where she had stood. He wanted to reach out and gather her into his arms, but he’d given up that chance when he foolishly refused to marry her today.

  Arielah’s heart was bursting—Solomon’s tenderness and then his fury, his power and now the vulnerability splashed on his features. Could she ever love him more than at this moment? He turned and caught her staring. He winked, and her cheeks flamed.

  “Jehoshaphat, my friend,” Solomon shouted over the noisy celebration, “I have brought our agreed-upon mohar gifts for your lovely daughter.”

  The mention of the king’s bride price settled the roar to a whisper. Everyone—including Arielah—seemed interested to know how much the king offered in payment for Jehoshaphat’s only daughter. Craning her neck, Arielah noticed the heavy-laden camels for the first time.

  “To which fields shall my herdsmen guide your new livestock? And in which home should my servants unload the pack animals?” The crowd’s collective gasp affirmed their approval, and Arielah watched a slow, wide smile grace Solomon’s handsome face.

  The Shulammites came to life, scurrying to the tasks Abba and Ima had asked of them beforehand. “Igal will direct your herdsmen to my pastures,” Abba Jehoshaphat said, his arm protectively placed around his son’s shoulders.

  Solomon glared at her tall, stocky brother, and she could see Igal wilting inside.

  “He’ll be an excellent manager one day,” Abba said.

  When Solomon’s expression remained as hard as stone, Jehoshaphat released his son with a pat on the back. Arielah’s heart ached that her report of abuse had caused a rift between the king and Igal, but Abba Jehoshaphat seemed undaunted, moving now to introduce Ima. “Jehosheba has arranged for some women to help unload the household supplies.”

  “Jehosheba.” The king inclined his head, his demeanor tender now. “I see where your daughter gets her beauty.”

  Ima’s cheeks colored, and she bowed before her king. No words, simply her sweet smile and those sparkling eyes that embraced every heart.

  Camels and donkeys paraded by until Shulammite whispers grew to applause. Lapis and linen, oil and spices, grindstones, spindles, and bolts of cloth—a bride price beyond Arielah’s imagination. But then the bleating of sheep stole her attention.

  On the plain, behind the king’s escort, roamed more flocks and herds—fewer animals than the mohar gift and kept distinctly separate. The Daughters of Jerusalem must have noticed her unasked question because Shiphrah was quick to answer. “As you can see, little shepherdess, a king must make his own provision when traveling in a hostile land.” Glancing in Abba Jehoshaphat’s direction, she added, “Even a simple village judge can understand the wisdom of safe meat for the king’s household while enduring a foreign land.”

  Arielah felt her abba tense, but when she searched his eyes, they were tender—and focused on the king. “I believe it is the responsibility and privilege of the bride’s abba to provide for the betrothal feast, my lord.” Solomon stared at his sandals while Jehoshaphat addressed the maidens. “And let me remind both of you—Shunem is neither hostile nor foreign to the king of Israel.”

  At the venom in Abba’s tone, the king replied, “Please, my friend, don’t be offended. I must be cautious. Ahishar made a valid point before we left Jerusalem.”

  Arielah’s blood boiled at the mention of the steward’s name.

  “He insisted I protect not only myself but also my servants and guards by eating only palace provisions.” He paused, glancing at Benaiah, exchanging some silent agreement. “My palace servants will mingle with the Shulammite servers at tonight’s banquet, and no one will notice the separate provisions, my friend.”

  Arielah saw only compassion on Abba’s face. “You look weary, my king.”

  The sudden observation seemed to startle Solomon. “Well, I . . . I mean, I suppose . . .”

  “No one in Shunem wishes you harm. You are safe here, Solomon.”

  Hearing his familiar name seemed to give the king pause. Arielah wondered how often he heard it. Does anyone call you Solomon anymore, or do you hear only ‘my lord’ and ‘my king’?

  “Jehoshaphat, my friend,” he said with a deep sigh, “I have learned in the past few weeks that betrayal hides behind every smile and lurks around every corner. So I have become cautious—extremely cautious.”

  “I understand.” Jehoshaphat nodded toward the king’s beautiful companions. “I hope you are as cautious about those you employ in your household.”

  Shiphrah stepped forward as if to defend herself, but Abba’s heated stare pressed her and her sister back a few steps. Solomon ducked his head, hiding the almost imperceptible grin tipping the left corner of his lips.

  “Take care, my king.” Abba’s tone was warm but insistent. “A constant stream of suspicion can strangle a heart in desperate need of peace. A king needs godly counselors, those who would remind him of Jehovah’s plan for his nation, Israel—and God’s love for Solomon, the man.”

  Arielah saw the king’s cheeks shade pink. “Do you know my name?” he asked in a hushed voice. He glanced right and left, and his eyes grew round like a child who’d been found with the honey jar.

  Abba’s tender smile seemed perfectly at ease, but Arielah wanted to scream, Your name? Your name is Solomon! Of course he knows your name!

  But before her confusion could root and grow, Abba whispered, “Nathan must have told you of the name Jehovah issued the night of your birth.”

  Arielah saw tears pool in the king’s eyes. “How did you know?”

  Abba placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Your abba and I met only a few times, but we shared deeply about our God and our sons.” Pausing only a moment, he added, “He knew you were loved by God, Jedidiah.”

  Prickly flesh raised the hairs on Arielah’s arm as a warm breeze anointed the moment. Jedidiah, she repeated silently while her Abba continued. “My Arielah’s birth was surrounded by similar blessing, King Solomon. She is loved. She is chosen. And next year she will be yours.” The two bowed, no doubt to Jehovah rather than each other. “You may choose any of the meadows of Shunem to graze your flocks,” Abba said. “Our quiet pastures have much to offer a man seeking the peace of God’s presence.”

  “Thank you, my friend,” Solomon said. “I look forward to a little time of God’s reassuring presence.” Nodding to Jehoshaphat and Arielah, he said, “Until tonight’s banquet then.”

  “Before you go . . .” Arielah’s voice sounded small amid the lingering commotion of mohar camels and bustling servants. “May I ask one thing of the king before he retires to his camp?”

  The warmth of his gaze enfolded her like a woolen blanket, giving her permission to speak.

  “Will you send a messenger to tell me where you graze your flocks, so that I may join you tomorrow for a meal when you rest your sheep at midda
y?”

  He laughed, and humiliation immediately colored her cheeks. She looked away, but he turned her chin with a gentle nudge. “Beautiful Arielah, I am not a shepherd king like my abba David. The royal shepherds tend my flocks, but I would be pleased to see you at midday.” He released her chin, and his eyes grew distant. He signaled his servants toward a southern meadow, his mind obviously shifting to the tasks at hand. “I’m sure my tent won’t be hard to find. You can ask any of my guards when you arrive tomorrow, and they’ll direct you.”

  The Daughters of Jerusalem smiled triumphantly. “Yes, little shepherdess. You can just wander among the herders until you find us.”

  “I will not wander among your tents, my lord!” Arielah’s venom snapped the king’s head to attention. “I may not be jeweled and lotioned like a queen, but neither will I go from one tent to the next like a red-veiled woman on her nightly rounds.”

  Solomon appeared too shocked to answer, but Shiphrah spoke before he could. “If you can’t find King Solomon’s tent, oh beautiful Shulammite, why not bring your abba’s goats and herding dogs? Surely they’re smart enough to follow the tracks of King Solomon’s flocks.”

  “Enough,” Solomon said, casting disapproving frowns at all of them. “Shiphrah and Sherah, you will speak to Arielah respectfully, giving her the honor of a newly betrothed bride to the king.” Casting a quick glance at Jehoshaphat, he said, “I’ll say no more since I know better than to involve myself in women’s issues. I saw verbal battles in Abba’s harem deteriorate into nail-scratching, hair-pulling massacres.”

  The Daughters of Jerusalem lowered their heads, feigning repentance. But a silent threat cast at Arielah promised more trouble in days to come.

  With a deep sigh, Solomon turned his full attention to Arielah. “I meant no disrespect, asking that you venture to my camp unescorted.” He fell silent, seeming intent on her response. Could it be he actually cared that she might be offended? “I meant no disrespect, Arielah. Please, forgive me.”

  In the stillness of that moment, she could hear only her racing heart. “I forgive you, my king.”

  As he brushed her cheek with the back of his hand, she felt his warmth, saw tenderness in his deep brown eyes. Lifting his voice for the lingering Shulammites, he shouted, “Arielah is like a mare harnessed to one of the chariots of Pharaoh.” Shiphrah and Sherah smugly crossed their arms, and Arielah wondered if she was about to be embarrassed again. “When Pharaoh gave me his prize mare with a battle chariot, he explained the brilliant war strategy of the combination. When the Egyptian mare led the chariot into battle, the enemy stallions broke into complete disarray.” Stepping close, he whispered, “Just as it seems you’ve thrown my heart and household into a frenzy, beloved.” The scent of saffron lingered when he stepped away.

  “You called me beloved.” She breathed the word reverently.

  He laughed again, but this time she laughed with him. “I bring you all the treasures of a mohar, and yet you receive a simple word as more precious than gold.” Turning to Jehoshaphat, he said, “Your daughter is the true treasure, Prince of Shunem.” Playfully he swept his fingers through the chains dangling from her temples. The sound of rubies tinkled on the breeze. “You look beautiful in the head covering, Arielah, but it’s nothing compared to the earrings of gold and silver I will give you. You will have sapphires, topaz, emeralds, and onyx—jewelry from every nation.”

  Words meant to thrill, or at least impress, left her cold after his warm touch. “I need no such bounty, my lord.” She bowed dutifully, noting Solomon’s puzzlement when she arose.

  “What is this?” he asked Jehoshaphat, playfully annoyed. “I call her beloved, and she adores me. I offer her jewels, and she defers?”

  “I warn you, King Solomon,” Abba said with a glint in his eyes, “Arielah is like no woman you’ve ever known. My little lamb has a lion’s heart.”

  Solomon captured her with his gaze. “I look forward to the challenge, Prince Jehoshaphat,” he said wryly. “The women in my world are the spice that gives life flavor.”

  20

  • SONG OF SOLOMON

  1:12; 2:2–3, 6–7 •

  [Beloved] While the king was at his table, my perfume spread its fragrance. . . .

  [Lover] Like a lily among thorns is my darling among the maidens.

  [Beloved] Like an apple tree among the trees of the forest is my lover among the young men. . . . His left arm is under my head, and his right arm embraces me. Daughters of Jerusalem . . . do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires.

  Arielah would remember last night for the rest of her life. This morning’s sun cast golden rays on the papyrus document she held aloft. Those tiresome days of practicing words in clay tablets with Kemmuel and Igal were suddenly worth every excruciating moment. She gently caressed the scroll that her family would guard until her wedding day.

  On this, the eighth day of the month of Iyar, in the city of Shunem, the honorable King Solomon—may Jehovah bless and protect him—enters into this wedding treaty with Arielah, the daughter of the worthy Jehoshaphat, elder of Shunem and prince of Israel’s tenth district. Let Solomon the son of David, with the help of heaven, honor, support, and maintain her.

  Let this treaty seal our betrothal, my promise to return to Shunem in no less than one year, when I will claim Arielah as my wife according to the law of Moses and Israel. In accordance with the custom of Israelite husbands, who fulfill the responsibilities of their position in truth, I will provide for her clothing, her ransom, and her burial. Furthermore, I, King Solomon, give flocks, fine linen, gold and silver jewelry, and every kind of precious stone as mohar in payment to the house of Jehoshaphat, the totals of which are listed below . . .

  Arielah’s eyes stung with tears at the memory. Happy tears. Frightened tears. She inspected the transparent drops and marveled that they looked the same—no matter the emotion. Why don’t I cry blue tears for sorrow and yellow ones for joy? Why couldn’t a wedding be as simple as tears? Unadorned, transparent. Why couldn’t she and Solomon promise their love in a meadow? Instead, gold and jewels guaranteed a yearlong betrothal, and fine robes would bind them in a public wedding in Jerusalem. A deep sigh. Then a giggle. Delight quickly replaced her newly betrothed impatience, and she lingered on her sleeping mat way past the rooster’s crow.

  At dawn, Ima had peeked around the cooking stones to Arielah’s private sleeping corner. “Rest a while longer, my lamb.” Then the familiar sounds of clicking spoons and rattling pots began while Ima set about her daily tasks. The aroma of her efforts swirled into the memories of last night’s banquet, wrapping Arielah in the familiar and the fanciful.

  King Solomon! Arielah stifled a squeal. I am going to marry King Solomon! She remembered every angle and detail of his masculine face, his raven hair resting on the fox-fur collar of his royal robe.

  “I stand before Prince Jehoshaphat and the people of Shunem to complete my vow and return to Shunem with my royal procession and claim Arielah as my bride.” He’d called her his bride.

  But the next words had nearly rendered her speechless, and even this morning sent prickles up her spine. “In the unlikely event of our divorce,” he read from the treaty agreement, “I guarantee safe return to her abba’s household with her bridal dowry intact.” Solomon bowed, and the Shulammites’ deafening cheer should have assured Arielah that the king’s comment was simply a formality, included in all wedding arrangements. But the word still resounded in her ears. Divorce.

  The morning sun shone through the window above her sleeping mat. She raised her hand, letting her new gold ring sparkle in the sun’s rays. The simple symbol of Solomon’s promise strengthened her heart. She hugged it to her chest and giggled, remembering poor Benaiah’s expression when Solomon had chosen him as friend of the bridegroom. Shocked yet honored. The mountainous man stepped forward to affix his signature to the treaty. Reu’s face had mirrored Benaiah’s when Abba asked him to sign the document as witness for the bride’s family
.

  Then she remembered Solomon’s warm brown eyes and tender voice. “Jehoshaphat, I give this ring to your daughter as a testimony of our betrothal, our contract of marriage.” Taking the simple gold band from a hidden pocket in his robe, he called her forward.

  Finally, she remembered thinking, something as simple as me.

  The king’s luxurious black tent grew as quiet as a tomb. Holding the ring in the air, he said, “Arielah, my beloved, do you accept this ring and the mohar, thereby sealing our betrothal?”

  “Oh yes!” she cried almost before he finished asking.

  Solomon’s rich, deep laughter filled the tent, and their guests joined in. “For a simple gold band, you rejoice as though I’ve given you the world!” Then he brushed her cheek with the back of his hand and sent fire rushing through her body.

  “If you keep daydreaming about last night, the king’s meal will turn cold.” Her ima’s sweet face peeked over the cooking stones.

  “But surely it’s not midday already!” Arielah leapt from her mat, her cheeks burning. Oh my! She hoped Ima wasn’t reading her mind again!

  Jehosheba chuckled and held out a full basket of food. “Indeed, it is nearly midday, my lamb, and you’ve enjoyed dreams of your Solomon all morning—as a newly betrothed maiden should.”

  Giddy, she kissed Ima’s cheek, splashed water on her face, and whispered her thanks. She scurried through their courtyard gate with the food basket over her arm, then passed the matchmaker and old Ruth just in time to hear their conversation.

  “Did you see the lovely wedding garments the king brought for Jehoshaphat and Jehosheba, Edna?” Ruth’s heart was as tender as a sun-ripened fig. “Appropriate gifts for good people.”

  “I wore a simple linen robe with an embroidered belt to my daughter’s wedding,” Edna groused. “And I had to stitch the embroidery on the belt myself!”