by Mesu Andrews
Leaning forward, shading his eyes from the setting sun, he saw a lone figure standing in the vineyard watchtower, frail and bent. “I think that’s him, Jehoshaphat!” Turning to alert the caravan, he shouted, “Baal Hamon is ahead!” Excitement brimming, he felt his heart nearly burst with memories. “Abba David put Shimei in charge of Baal Hamon over twenty years ago, and his faithful service has kept the palace wine stores overflowing. I spent many summers under his guidance, learning to tend the vines.”
“So why did you stop coming?” Jehoshaphat’s question was innocent, but it dampened Solomon’s enthusiasm.
“Duty stopped my visits,” he said sadly. “As Israel prospered, Abba spent less time in Tyre, and I spent less time at Baal Hamon. As I got older, my responsibilities grew, and our view of Baal Hamon changed. Instead of it being our family’s vineyard on the way to Tyre, it became the vineyard too far into northern Israel to visit.” The confession made his camel’s plodding seem even slower.
“Go!” Jehoshaphat said.
“What?” Solomon turned to find the prince smiling. He must have noticed Solomon’s impatience.
“I said go! We’ll catch up.”
“Ha-ha!” Solomon swatted his camel’s backside, and all four hooves flew.
Solomon heard another camel beside him and found Hezro gaining ground. He should have known Benaiah’s Cherethite wouldn’t let him too far out of reach. As they neared the vineyard, Solomon noticed the stooped old man had arrived at the narrowly opened gate. Solomon and Hezro halted their camels directly in front of a beaming Shimei.
Peering from beneath wiry gray eyebrows, Shimei shouted, “Shalom, young Solomon!” His unkempt beard looked as if a family of doves nested in it.
“Shalom, good Shimei! Your young prince has returned.”
“Ah, can it be the little prince has returned a king, or has the king become a shepherd?” His pink gums gleamed from his wide smile.
Solomon remembered his shepherd’s disguise and marveled that the old man had recognized him from the tower. “I come to inspect your work, old man!” Solomon tapped his camel’s shoulder, and the beast rocked to its knees. Hezro mirrored the king’s descent, and both joined the vinedresser at the gate.
Though the old man’s eyes were cloudy, they saw into Solomon’s soul. “Surely my work is least on your list of pressing national issues, my lord.”
“You’re right as usual, good Shimei. I bring a woman for your approval. She has pressed my heart like a winepress squeezes grapes.”
The old man’s weak shout sounded like wind through sackcloth. “The son of David comes to visit his vineyard. Sound the shofar, for today we celebrate!”
The heavy wooden gate swung open at the hands of two burly Judean guards. They stared at Solomon with interest.
“King Solomon, my lord.” Shimei ceremoniously bowed.
“Stand up, old friend.” Solomon chuckled. “I’m afraid you’ll topple over if you bow any lower.”
The old man stood, and his laughter ended in a fit of coughing. Solomon held him until he quieted. “So what really brings you to your northern vineyard, Solomon?”
No more games. No more trifling words. Solomon pointed to the little wedding carriage approaching. “The woman in that coach, Shimei. She is my wife and says we must learn how to love before we return to Jerusalem.”
The old man nodded. “She seems wiser than you already,” Shimei said, mischief in his eyes. “Your abba tended the royal flocks when he needed to listen to Jehovah, but you, young prince, have always listened best amid the vines.” They entered the vineyard, Solomon with his arm around the old man’s waist to steady him.
When they reached the vinedresser’s home, Solomon said, “Wait here. I’ll escort Arielah and her abba Jehoshaphat and introduce them as soon as the caravan is settled inside the vineyard gate.”
“I’ll have Cook prepare the evening meal for our special guests,” Shimei shouted over his shoulder, setting off another coughing bout. “I see love has bitten you hard, young prince. We have much to celebrate.”
By the time Solomon returned with Jehoshaphat and Arielah, the meal was waiting, but Cook was wringing her hands. “I’m sorry, my king,” she said hesitantly, “but Shimei has gone out to your old meeting place and asks that you bring your bride to greet him. I’ll serve our other guests while you and your bride find Shimei.”
A bit embarrassed by his friend’s eccentricity, he apologized to Jehoshaphat and the others, asking Cook to make them feel welcome. Handing a lamp to Arielah, he gathered her into his arms. “The paths are too uneven for you to maneuver in the dark, beloved.” She nodded and relaxed into his arms, and he noticed Hezro following close behind. “I’m sorry, my friend, but you’re not invited.” When the guard started to protest, Solomon interrupted. “Hezro, think about it. We’re in my vineyard, guarded by Judean soldiers, and I’m meeting an old man who can barely stand.” He paused for the length of a heartbeat. “I’m safe. Go eat your meal.”
The Cherethite barely blinked. “I will stand at a distance, far enough to give you privacy, but close enough to see the flame of my queen’s lamp.” He then turned and addressed Arielah. “Please, my lady, make sure you hold your lamp so that I can see it at all times, or you will call down my wrath on whoever is standing near you.”
Arielah nodded, her eyes wide.
Solomon’s heart warmed at the guard’s care. He turned and found the path he’d walked a hundred times with the old vinedresser. Hezro was true to his word, his presence felt but not seen or heard. Finally Solomon saw the faint glimmer of Shimei’s lamp under the lush green canopy where they’d shared so many secrets.
“Welcome, young prince!” he said, coughing again with the greeting. He pounded his chest and rocked on the boulder where he sat.
Solomon eased Arielah onto a smooth rock, dented in its middle as though hewn to receive her.
Solomon turned over a watering jug and sat on it. “Don’t die out here, you old raisin,” he teased when Shimei’s coughing subsided. “I can only carry one of you, and my wife is much prettier.”
“Indeed she is,” the old man said, a sparkle in his eyes.
“Now why did you call us out here and leave your guests to be entertained by Cook?” Solomon tried to sound gruff, but the vinedresser knew him too well.
“I wanted to meet the woman who bruised your gizzard.”
“Excuse me?” Solomon laughed, and Arielah joined him. This old man loved riddles, and Solomon loved this old man. “I’ve come to believe myself a man of some knowledge,” Solomon said, “and I’ve never beheld a gizzard.” He glanced at Arielah and found her rapt attention on the old vinedresser.
“Well, whether you’ve heard of it or not,” Shimei said, grinning ear to ear, “yours has been bruised. Love is a funny thing—shakes like a lizard, runs around your heart, and grabs at your gizzard.”
As they enjoyed the old man’s sage wisdom, their laughter wound down like the last clump of wool on a spindle. Solomon left his place and knelt by Arielah. “Shimei, this is my beloved, Arielah. Our union was born of duty, a treaty agreement between the house of David and the northern tribes.” His throat constricted as he contemplated how to relay the rest of their story. “Because my heart became so thoroughly satisfied by her during yichud, I promised her a singleness of commitment as if she were my only wife, my only marital responsibility.” He saw Arielah’s head bow, watched a tear drop to her folded hands. “Shimei, I broke my promise to her. I betrayed her, not just with my other wives but with—” He hesitated, shame strangling him.
“Does your wife know the details of your betrayal?” Shimei asked.
“Yes.”
The old man pointed to the moon and shimmering stars. “Have you confessed your sin to Jehovah, Solomon?”
“Yes.”
“Then I have no need to hear the details of such a betrayal,” the old vinedresser said. “Go on with your story.”
Solomon gathered his composu
re. “It was my betrayal that caused her scars,” he said through a tight throat. “Yet she has forgiven me.” He lifted her crooked hand and kissed it. “I love her as I’ve never loved anyone before. I would give my life for her, but—”
“But what?” Shimei asked abruptly, startling the two lovers. “So give your life for her!”
Solomon glanced at Arielah and back at Shimei. Arielah appeared to be as confused as he felt. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
“Change your life for her,” he said as if Solomon were the dumbest sheep in the flock. “Remain faithful to God’s calling as king, honor all your promises, and change anything else that needs changing.”
Arielah ventured a word for the first time. “Good Shimei,” she said hesitantly, “how can Israel’s king honor his promise to me—to love me with his whole heart—and yet faithfully fulfill his duty to the other treaty wives? I’m afraid the agreement that sealed our beginning necessarily requires our end. He cannot remain faithful to me and still honor the other treaties he’s made.”
“The beginning of a relationship has little to do with its end,” Shimei said. “David and Bathsheba are testimony to that.” Like an old gossip, he bent low and whispered from behind a raised hand, “Solomon, did I ever tell you that you were conceived under an apple tree?”
“Shimei!” he gasped while Arielah stifled a giggle. “How in the name of pomegranates do you know that?”
“Hee-hee!” The old man chuckled. “Because when your abba brought you to this vineyard, he realized Jehovah shouts to you among these vines. King David said, ‘Perhaps since Solomon was conceived under an apple tree, he will always be more attuned to God’s voice amid His creation.’”
The old man paused and grew serious. “You have both come with heavy hearts. Baal Hamon is far from Jerusalem, but I have heard of Arielah—the lion of God.” Turning to her, he said, “When you return to Jerusalem, your enemies will say, ‘Look how she leans on her lover,’ and they will think you weak, little lioness.” He leaned forward, his eyes holding the couple in a firm grip. “But you must look at your husband and remind him, ‘Amid God’s creation we will renew our love. In the quiet places of creation where your ima conceived you and gave you birth, we will listen to Jehovah together.’”
Solomon massaged his forehead. “Shimei, you say I hear Jehovah in creation, but so far all I’ve heard are riddles about a gizzard.” Trying to keep the frustration from his voice, he pleaded with his old friend. “If the lesson of love is in this vineyard, I’m missing it. This is important, my friend. No more riddles. I’ve failed Arielah once; I don’t want to fail her again.”
“Oh, young Solomon, everyone fails. But not everyone truly loves.” Shimei reached up and plucked a cluster of nearly ripe grapes from the vine. “Love is like these grapes. It must be allowed to grow and ripen in its time.” The old man threw the cluster at Solomon, and the king caught them by sheer reflex. “That’s how you love, young prince.” His pink gums shone in the lamplight. “You simply catch it as it comes at you.”
Solomon inspected the cluster in his hands.
“Now take one. Eat it,” Shimei said.
“No!” Solomon chuckled. “They’re not ripe.”
Shimei pointed at the cluster. “Look at them carefully, young prince. Some are ripe. Some are not.” Piercing Solomon with his gaze, he said, “As I have been given wisdom from Jehovah to work the vines, He gave you wisdom to create trade routes, peace agreements, and labor contracts through marriage to foreign brides. Choose to bed those wives as carefully as I tend the vines. Couple only with those who are ripe, giving them heirs, fulfilling their purpose and your responsibility.” He nodded at Arielah. “Though the lion of God came to you as a treaty bride, she’s become the apple of your eye, the beating of your heart. To your other wives you owe a debt, an oath, a promise. To Arielah, your gift from Jehovah, you owe your life.”
Solomon looked with renewed wonder at the cluster of grapes in his hand and then turned to his wife. “Your abba once told me that I couldn’t unlive my past, but I could choose my future carefully. I cannot unmarry the women in Abba’s harem or my own, but I can deal with them shrewdly.”
Tears streamed down her cheeks. “My love,” she said, her voice whispered awe. “I have always asked you to give me your whole heart, but because my experience has been in a Shulammite household, I wanted to be your only wife.” Pushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead, she said, “I realize now that you have signed treaties and agreements with nations, binding you in marriages with other women. I cannot expect you to break your oaths to them in order to keep a promise to me.” Glancing at Shimei, she winked and received a delighted laugh from the old vinedresser.
Solomon threw a grape at the old man. “Stop flirting with my wife!” he said, gaining another chuckle. Looking into Arielah’s eyes, he saw peace there. “It seems the vines have spoken to us both, beloved, teaching these lessons of love.”
“You need only signal your coach driver, and he’ll get word to me that we must rest awhile.” Solomon closed the door of their wedding carriage and offered a silent prayer. Jehovah, keep Arielah strong for the long journeys ahead. He’d seen her weakened by the three-day trip from Shunem to Baal Hamon, and he knew that the three-day return and then three days more to Jerusalem would exhaust her. What else can we do?
“King Solomon!” Reu’s anxious shout interrupted the king’s fretting. “May I have a word with you before we leave for Shunem?” He looked as if he’d swallowed a bad fig. Pale and puckered, Jehoshaphat’s aide marched toward the coach with purpose.
Sighing deeply, Solomon could think of nothing he’d like less than debating a bitter young man. “Of course, Reu.” He motioned to a private area near the sheepfolds.
Once they were away from curious eyes and ears, Reu began in a controlled voice. “First, my lord, let me thank you for your kind offer.”
“Before you go any further . . .” Solomon held up his hand, interrupting the young man. “I’m thankful Jehoshaphat explained Arielah’s and my desire to help pay for Hannah’s bride price, but since we’ve visited Baal Hamon, I have a second offer for you to consider.” Solomon noticed crimson splotches forming on Reu’s neck but assumed he was overcome with gratitude. “I’d like you to consider returning to Baal Hamon and becoming Shimei’s apprentice.”
“My lord, I—”
Again Solomon stopped Reu’s reply. “Please, let me explain. Shimei is a dear friend, and I see him growing weak. He loves the vines and would enjoy having a young man like yourself to train to love them as he does. I know you’ve been learning to tend the vines with Igal in Jehoshaphat’s vineyards.”
Reu simply nodded, his eyes round and filling with tears.
“Good. Good.” Solomon laid a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “So is that a yes, then? Will you accept the mohar for Hannah and return to Baal Hamon to begin your life here with her?” He smiled. “After a proper betrothal period, of course.”
The splotches on Reu’s neck had grown into a deep crimson, more the color of ripened grapes. “Why?” he asked.
“What?”
He shrugged off Solomon’s hand, fire lighting his eyes. “Why would you do all this? I mean, I know why a man like Jehoshaphat would do it—he has integrity and character.” He sputtered as if sorry for the misspeak but not repentant. “What I mean is . . . well, why would you offer to pay the groom’s mohar for your wife’s own serving maid? And why on earth would you offer to make me the caretaker of Baal Hamon, the most beautiful and productive vineyard in Israel, when I’ve never tended vines in my life?” His breath escaped in short, angry spurts.
Solomon allowed a little silence to cushion his words. “Reu, I’m offering to pay Hannah’s bride price because Arielah has told me of the love she’s witnessed between you two, and I want to reward you for the friendship you showed Arielah in Jerusalem—when I betrayed her.” Reu’s eyes flamed, and Solomon knew. “That’s what this is really
about, isn’t it? I know you feel like a part of their family, Reu, but even Igal has forgiven me.” Solomon waited for his reply but heard nothing except the bleating of sheep and the restless sounds of the waiting caravan. “You don’t have to forgive me, but you should still take the mohar for Hannah’s sake. It’s your only hope for the life of love you desire with her.”
Solomon took a step to go, but Reu touched his arm. “I want to hate you for what you did to Arielah, but the love I see in Jehoshaphat’s family is too big to let any of us hold on to the past.” Before Solomon could respond, Reu knelt and bowed before him. “My lord, I choose to forgive you, and I ask you to forgive me for speaking to you so harshly.”
Solomon placed his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Thank you, my friend. And yes, you are forgiven as well.”
When the king lifted his hand, Reu grasped it and placed his forehead on the back of it. “May I ask one more favor?”
“Ask it, Reu.”
He looked up, and the words came out in a flurry. “Will you serve as friend of the bridegroom and negotiate with Hannah’s abba on my behalf?” He stopped as if unable to believe he’d said it. His final words were spoken with an impish grin. “I believe Hannah and her abba will agree, but it wouldn’t hurt to have the king of Israel negotiate for me.”
38
• SONG OF SOLOMON 8:1, 6 •
[Beloved] If only you were to me like a brother . . . I would kiss you, and no one would despise me. . . . Place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm.
Arielah watched Mount Moreh grow larger in the window, and a tangle of emotions knotted inside her. “Thank you for our visit to Baal Hamon,” she said as their wedding carriage jostled toward Shunem. “And you were right. I love old Shimei.”
