by Mesu Andrews
“Foreign brides?” Her voice sounded small.
Abba nodded. Benaiah continued. “Ahishar arranges the foreign marriages, and the Daughters of Jerusalem create dissension in the harems. The twins incite native-born wives to feel as though Solomon favors his foreign brides, and the northern Israelite wives complain to their already hostile families of favoritism shown to Judean brides. Of course, I have no proof of the Daughters’ crimes that would stand in court, and the only harem news the king receives comes from Ahishar’s carefully fashioned reports.”
Arielah’s head swam at the horror of the life awaiting her. Shunem’s well gossip was like a stroll in the meadow compared to a harem. Gathering her courage, she asked the question that frightened her most. “How many new foreign wives has he married?”
The two men exchanged a troubled glance.
“Twenty,” Ima said, emerging from her place by the cooking stones.
Arielah’s hand instinctively flew to her mouth, muffling a gasp.
“Our daughter needs to know all the facts in order to make her decision, my love.” Jehosheba spoke gently but firmly to her husband. “And we must tell her of Jehovah’s commands.”
Abba reached up for Ima’s hand, inviting her to sit with the three of them around their leather table mat. Arielah tried desperately to push aside the thought of Solomon’s twenty new wives.
Abba captured her attention by holding her gaze. “In the days of Moses, Yahweh instructed the Israelites not to marry Canaanites in the land He had promised them.”
Arielah knew this was true, but she’d always wondered . . . “So did King David sin when he married Absalom’s ima Maacah, since she was the daughter of a Geshurite king?”
Again Abba and Benaiah looked to each other for support, and this time it was Benaiah who explained. “Yahweh explicitly forbade Israelites to marry women from the seven Canaanite nations, but then He made a distinction that Ammonite and Moabite women were not to be brought into Israel’s assembly until ten generations had passed, and Edomite women after three generations.”
Arielah furrowed her brow. “Are you saying God approves of Solomon’s foreign marriages—as long as he takes only Ammonite, Moabite, and Edomite women?”
“I’m saying Solomon has been cautious to follow the letter of the law,” Benaiah said. “Like his abba David, he has not married a woman from any of the seven Canaanite tribes, but the spirit of the law was to keep Israel’s men from being led to worship foreign gods.”
Arielah began shaking her head. “Solomon would not worship foreign gods. His godly wisdom would keep him from it.”
Abba reached for her hand to reassure her; his eyes kind but his tone dire. “King Solomon is a man, my lamb, with a tender heart. He marries foreign brides while he teaches them about Jehovah.”
Relief fluttered but fled the moment he spoke again.
“But they also worship their foreign gods in the palace while they learn of Jehovah. The God-fearing women have reported it to their families in Judah and in northern Israel, and the whole nation is in turmoil.”
“Oh, Abba. No.” Turning to Benaiah, she asked, “Can’t you convince him to stop this? For the peace of Israel, he must stop his wives’ pagan worship.”
The commander swallowed hard. “Ahishar has displaced me as the king’s favored advisor, and—” His voice broke, and he looked away, clearing his throat.
Abba Jehoshaphat continued like a second runner with a courier’s scroll. “Ahishar has convinced King Solomon that if my efforts as goodwill ambassador fail, Judah’s military should use force to silence any rebellion from the unskilled northern districts.”
“No.” Arielah barely breathed the word. The man she’d dreamed of would never do these things. “Benaiah, have you reasoned with him? Does he condone military force?”
“A king answers to no one, my lady.” Benaiah bowed his head. Silent.
Her heart broke at the demonstration. This good and godly man was showing her what his life had become. Cool indifference with a dear friend.
When he looked up, Benaiah’s lashes were wet with tears. “In regard to military force, King Solomon has said he hopes my friendship with your abba doesn’t impair my ability to lead Judah’s troops if the time comes to quash northern rebels. I assured him it will not.”
A chill ran down Arielah’s spine. No wonder these two men appeared weary and worn. They were carrying the weight of a nation on their shoulders.
“Arielah.” Ima’s gentle voice penetrated the sorrow and drew their attention. “You have heard these reports. And we leave the decision to you. Can you commit to Solomon for the rest of your life and live in a harem amid the worship of foreign gods?” The room fell silent, and Ima reached for her hand. “We do not doubt your love for Solomon. We simply ask you to listen to God in this moment and count the cost.”
Count the cost. Arielah pondered Ima’s words, measured the concern on her elders’ faces. She had considered difficulties in Jerusalem, but never foreign gods. What other unexpected struggles would she face? Could she meet them and overcome? Or would she fail her family, her nation, and her God? Closing her eyes, she prayed, Jehovah, what would You have me do?
“I’ve been thinking.” Reu burst from the bedchamber, shattering the silence. “We mustn’t let word get out that a Judean watchman did this to my face. Ahishar would love to fan the flames of hostility between—”
Arielah gasped at the purple bruising around Reu’s eyes and nose. The sight of her young friend and the mention of Ahishar’s conniving stirred Arielah’s commitment. She received the timing as Jehovah’s affirmation that she must keep the treaty bride agreement. She offered a silent prayer of thanks.
Igal emerged from their parents’ chamber too, his expression more quizzical with every moment of silence that passed.
Reu glanced from one face to another, his cheeks aflame. “I’m sorry. I must have interrupted . . .”
“Just the opposite, Reu. Your words were Jehovah’s whisper.” At his puzzled glance, Arielah motioned for him and Igal to take their places around the leather table mat. “I see the cost of my decision written on Reu’s face, but I believe the value of obedience far outweighs it. I will make myself ready to be King Solomon’s bride. Then it’s up to him if—” Arielah’s throat tightened, choking off more words.
Abba stroked her cheek, and she covered his hand with her own. His tender smile confirmed Jehovah’s gentle whisper and gave Arielah the sense of security she needed to speak of her uncertain future. Turning to the one who knew the king best, she asked, “Benaiah, what if Solomon has acquired enough wives? What if he breaks the treaty bride agreement and doesn’t return for me?”
Compassion shone from the commander’s eyes. “I’m not sure Solomon will ever acquire enough wives.” Then, with a wry grin, he added, “Fortunately, I don’t think our king has had a moment’s peace since he left Shunem. Whatever you did or said in the meadow that afternoon has rendered my young friend incapable of rest. I haven’t seen him content since he looked into your eyes.”
Arielah could barely speak past the lump in her throat. “Well, I plan to bring him contentment . . . if he’ll receive it.”
His face lit with a smile, and Israel’s commander did something she would never forget. He winked. As if they were sealing a silent partnership, she knew he would forever be her advocate in Jerusalem.
“I guess we leave in the morning,” Abba said, slapping his knees.
Arielah glanced between the two men, confused. “What do you mean you’ll leave in the morning? Why must you leave so soon? And were you considering not going, Abba?”
Compassion shadowed Benaiah’s features while Abba explained. “When we spoke with King Solomon in Jerusalem, he encouraged me to spend a few days at one of the northern fortress cities and consider suspending the goodwill campaign. He questioned the risks versus benefits of reasoning with these ‘stubborn northerners,’ as he called them, for the remaining three moons of our to
ur.”
“He’s begun using Ahishar’s term, ‘stubborn northerners,’ a little too freely, and it has stirred the already boiling pot,” Benaiah clarified.
“That’s why Benaiah is here,” Abba added. “The commander and a detachment of Mighty Men will accompany my caravan for the remainder of our goodwill tour. We were supposed to stop and ponder the decision at Jezreel, but we were too close to home to wait there.”
Arielah’s heart nearly burst. Wrapping her arms around the commander’s wide neck, she hugged him tightly. “Thank you, Benaiah. Not many men would care about a silly shepherd girl’s desires and escort her abba home.”
Benaiah patted her awkwardly with one large paw. “Nor do I care about a silly shepherd girl.”
Releasing him, she tilted her head in question.
His eyes filled with tenderness. “I care about the king’s most precious bride who waits in Shunem.”
Arielah lifted his huge hand and studied his scars. Suddenly aware of the danger these men faced, she felt emotion tighten her throat. “What if the northern cities riot? Three new moons is a long time to fend off their anger, and what if Judah turns against Solomon and Benaiah isn’t there to—” She stopped, glancing at Abba and Benaiah, realizing the foolishness of her warnings.
Abba chuckled. “It seems we are all called to offer our lives for Israel, my lamb. I recall a very wise young woman saying, ‘Only Jehovah can protect me now.’ And she was right.” He reached for Jehosheba’s hand, and Arielah noticed her ima’s tears for the first time. They would all face the fear of the unknown together. “Whether it is three moons or thirty,” he said, “whether a small band of guards or an army, ultimately it is Jehovah who will guide us all.”
22
• SONG OF SOLOMON 2:8–9, 15–17 •
[Beloved] Listen! My lover! Look! Here he comes. . . . Look! There he stands behind our wall, gazing through the windows, peering through the lattice. . . .
[Lover] Catch for us the foxes, the little foxes that ruin the vineyards, our vineyards that are in bloom.
[Beloved] My lover is mine and I am his; he browses among the lilies. Until the day breaks and the shadows flee, turn, my lover, and be like a gazelle or like a young stag on the rugged hills.
Reu had proven remarkably resilient, his timely exit from the bedchamber a precursor to an enjoyable meal with Jehoshaphat, Benaiah, and Igal. Arielah helped Ima clear the food and dishes while the men continued their amiable conversation. Igal apprised Abba of the flocks and vineyard, as well as the status of their servants and hired hands. Though his mind wasn’t as sharp as Kemmuel’s had been, his integrity soon won the respect and loyalty of Abba’s household. He’d become an effective manager while Abba was away.
Stealing a glance over her shoulder, Arielah whispered her concern. “Will Reu’s wounds heal completely, Ima?” The large cut between his eyes looked as if it might leave a scar.
“Yes, my lamb. His bruises will turn every color of spring foliage while healing—purple, blue, green, and yellow. But he should be rosy-cheeked before Solomon arrives to collect his bride during the wheat harvest.” She traced the delicate skin beneath Arielah’s eyes. “But these dark circles aren’t welcome in any season. They say you need rest, my lamb.” She gently nudged Arielah toward the private space behind the half wall of cooking stones. It had no door or lock like her parents’ chamber, but it was Arielah’s place.
She rolled onto her sleeping mat, exhausted. Feeling cocooned in her little sanctuary, Arielah began counting stars through her high window. The evening sky sparkled, ebony and crystal. Dawn always comes too soon, she thought as a yawn tugged at her jaws. Repositioning on the mat, she felt her eyelids grow heavier, her breathing slower. The sounds of the household faded in that respite between sleep and wakefulness.
Suddenly the pounding of horses’ hooves jolted Arielah awake. She sat up with a start, clearing the cobwebs from her mind. Am I dreaming? No. The hoofbeats drew near. She placed a small stool beneath the window and peeked through the lattice. Since Jehoshaphat’s home was built within the city wall, she could see one strong steed with a single rider racing across the valley. Few travelers ventured through the Judean wilderness at night, and even fewer risked the journey alone. A horse could travel from only two cities at that speed, Jezreel in the south or Megiddo in the west. This rider approached from the south—Jezreel.
Perhaps it’s a royal courier. She thrilled at the thought. Maybe he came all the way from Jerusalem, trading for fresh horses at the three chariot cities along the way.
Standing on her low stool, she saw the horse and rider slow their pace. Arielah’s heart nearly jumped from her chest when she realized the stranger was approaching her window! She looked around to find a weapon. She could wake Abba, but if the rider was a friend, she would seem like a silly, frightened child. Wondering if Benaiah slept in their common room, she considered waking the commander but decided to assess the danger first. Gathering her courage, she peered out the window once more.
The clouds cleared, and the moonlight revealed a man now on foot—tall, broad-shouldered, with a steady gait. Holding his horse’s reins in one hand, he brushed the wall with the other as if searching for something. Arielah watched him bend over and pick up an abandoned crate. He continued walking, gazing at the wall, and dropped the reins in order to point at the windows one at a time. He was counting!
His path led under an olive tree, and when he emerged, Arielah finally saw his face. “King Solomon!” she squealed in a whisper. Her excitement unsettled her footing, tipping the stool. She slid down the wall, landing on her backside with a thud. Oh, she mustn’t wake the whole household! Squeezing her eyes shut, she thrilled quietly, “He has come for me! Across the mountains, bounding over the hills!”
She reset the stool and peeked through the lattice more boldly now. “Oh, look at him, so sure and determined!” She could hardly believe it. She had prayed he would come for her, and now he stood near her window, having crossed the very meadow that had hosted their midday calamity so long ago.
Arielah followed Solomon’s every move until a sudden realization robbed her of breath. Why did the king of Israel come alone—at night—to claim his bride? He’s breaking the treaty by coming three moons early. Why would he put the nation at risk? And why didn’t he at least bring a royal escort? But every question died when the next thought broke her heart. Perhaps he is ashamed to claim me—a simple shepherdess. She stared down at her bruised arms and calloused knees. Torn between joy and sorrow, she peered into the shadows. He was only moments from her window now. Arielah waited breathlessly, confusion and disappointment wrestling with joy and desire.
How will he learn of love if I don’t teach him? The thought staggered her. She remembered the way Abba and Ima silently mouthed the words “I love you” when they thought no one was watching. Had King David said those words to any of his wives? Had he ever said them to Solomon?
As she tenderly touched her bruises and calluses, they became precious reminders of good times spent with Abba tending flocks or with Ima grinding grain. How many moments had Solomon enjoyed alone with his parents? A royal upbringing had almost certainly robbed him of simple, loving moments, and she was determined to teach him of love.
No matter what his motives for this midnight desert ride, he showed a willing heart. She grinned at the thought of Israel’s king peering through her lattice like a bandit in the night. Offering a silent prayer, Jehovah, give him patience to wait one more time, she pulled open her lattice and leaned into the window.
Solomon had ridden from Jezreel as if the witch of Endor nipped at his heels. He’d left Jerusalem soon after Jehoshaphat’s caravan departed, remaining far enough behind to maintain secrecy. Ahishar had been the first to suggest the plot to retrieve his treaty bride, and after some consideration, Solomon had seen the wisdom in it. Why wait three new moons to claim a woman who’s already mine by contract? Northern aggression was escalating, and if Solomon didn’t ac
t quickly, he might never see Arielah again.
And that was unacceptable.
This girl had cast some sort of spell over him. She haunted his dreams—day and night—her face, her voice, her scent. No matter how many wives he’d taken, none of them could fill the emptiness left by Arielah.
“So here we are,” he whispered to the trusty horse that had carried him through Gilboa’s dense forest. “You’re about to witness something incredibly romantic or utterly foolish.” The animal bounced its head as if agreeing, nearly pulling off Solomon’s arm. Steadying the creature, he glanced back at the crest of Gilboa where he’d left four royal guards.
When his entire company had reached Jezreel earlier that day, Solomon had chosen four men to trust with his secret. He wasn’t really breaking the northern treaty agreement. He was simply collecting his prize before the agreed-upon time. None of the other soldiers were aware of the king’s purpose, and when he confided his plan to his four trusted guards, they thought him insane to risk a nation’s rebellion to steal a shepherd girl.
But they’d never met Arielah.
Shoving aside some of the cactus hedge lining the city wall, he placed a dilapidated crate under the fourth window in Shunem’s wall. If he hoped to regain the peace he’d felt with Arielah before the meadow disaster, he must win her heart tonight. Stepping up on the wobbly crate, he steadied his hand on the window ledge and leaned toward the window.
A face gazed back.
“Ahhh!” Startled, he nearly fell into the cactus bushes. Regaining his balance, he watched Arielah stifle a giggle, seeing the moonlight dance in her eyes. The familiar ache deepened in his chest. What is this feeling inside me? He needed to understand her power over him. Why did he want her—no, need her so? Reaching through the window, he grasped her hand. “Come with me, Arielah. Come now, tonight, to Jezreel. And in the morning we’ll hurry back to Jerusalem and announce our wedding before anyone even realizes you’re gone.”
