Love’s Sacred Song

by Mesu Andrews

  Arielah had never seen a mute man rejoice, but the sight was one of the happiest she’d ever witnessed. Solomon’s laughter echoed in the hallways of the palace as they resumed their journey toward his private chambers. Arielah breathed a contented sigh and nestled her head against his shoulder, enjoying these few moments of calm before the battle turned to war.

  39

  • SONG OF SOLOMON 8:8 •

  [Friends] We have a young sister, and her breasts are not yet grown. What shall we do for our sister?

  Solomon stopped outside his chambers, examining the soldiers stationed at his double doors. Though their training dictated unflinching posture, their furrowed brows revealed curiosity. “You are members of Benaiah’s Pelethite guard, are you not?” Solomon asked, though Benaiah stood directly behind him, leading a number of other Mighty Men.

  The men saluted, fist to heart. “Yes, my king,” they said in unison.

  “And you are lifetime warriors, having protected my abba before me?”

  “Yes, my king.”

  Nodding to Arielah, who lay with her head on his shoulder, he said, “You will now guard Queen Arielah with the same loyalty that you showed my abba and with which you protect me.”

  They hesitated, glancing to their commander for direction. No king’s guard had ever been asked to guard a queen. Benaiah issued an almost imperceptible nod.

  “Understood?” Solomon shouted.

  “Yes, my king!”

  Benaiah leaned down to whisper, “You are a wise man, King Solomon. These are two of my best men.” The approval in his friend’s voice bolstered his confidence.

  “I hold you two personally responsible for Queen Arielah’s safety. One of you is to be aware of her presence at every moment of every day. Only your commander or myself may gain an audience alone with her, and she is to be escorted any time she leaves my chamber. Questions?”

  The Pelethites exchanged a glance, and one man ventured a grin. “May I say”—he offered a quick bow—“we are pleased to welcome the queen and guard her with our lives.” Both guards returned to their solemnity, saluted their king, and opened the double doors.

  “Welcome home, my king.” Sekhet’s wry grin would normally have lightened his mood, but at the moment his concern was Arielah. She seemed to be wilting like a flower without water.

  Lifting her head off his shoulder, Arielah greeted the Egyptian. “Shalom, Sekhet.”

  “What has happened to her?” Sekhet asked, nearly leaping off the couch where she’d been sitting. “Lay her on the bed.” Gently Solomon placed Arielah on his sleeping couch. “What did you do to her?” Sekhet glared at him and swatted his arm.

  He was too amazed to be offended. The Egyptian’s tender care for Arielah was endearing, and he watched in wonder as his wives enjoyed their reunion. He had no idea of the depth of their friendship forged during Arielah’s recovery. Jehovah, Your ways are unfathomable.

  “I’m all right, Sekhet,” Arielah said. “Just tired from our wonderful trip to Baal Hamon.”

  “Yes, Solomon said you were—”

  “Excuse me,” Solomon said. Both women glared as if begrudging the interruption. He chuckled. “Could you two catch up after we . . . ?” Turning to Benaiah, he nodded his silent command, and his top soldier began selectively clearing the chamber.

  When the chamber door clicked shut, Sekhet’s Nubian guards surrounded Solomon and Benaiah. The king’s heart nearly pounded from his chest, anticipating the answer upon which all their hopes rested. Inspecting the massive black warriors, Solomon asked Sekhet, “Do your Nubians understand only Egyptian, or do they also speak Hebrew?”

  The king sat silently on his throne, his expression cool, his gaze fixed. Arielah glanced at him, trying to appear as strong as her husband, when inwardly she longed for nothing more than a quiet nap in a sunny meadow. Appraising the throne hall’s exclusively female audience, she leaned over to whisper, “This may be the first time the aroma of cedar has been overpowered by lotions and perfumes.” Shiphrah and Sherah had fallen into Solomon’s trap. His plea for public male witnesses had prompted them to fill the throne hall with both royal harems.

  Solomon stifled a grin, maintaining his regal bearing. “It seems the only royal wife missing from Abba’s harem or mine is Ima Bathsheba. So far, it’s the only move in our real-life Hounds and Jackals that I didn’t anticipate.” The rest of the wives and concubines were present—David’s harem lined the left side of the aisle, and Solomon’s women waited on the right.

  Elihoreph’s shrill voice interrupted Arielah’s observations. “Seeking justice from King Solomon’s court, Shiphrah and Sherah, the Daughters of Jerusalem.” All eyes turned to the entryway between the courtyard and the throne hall, the portal through which royalty entered.

  Solomon’s eyes narrowed, and he gripped Arielah’s left hand too tightly. “Gently, my love,” she said, grimacing. His expression showed a moment’s panic. “Remember God’s wisdom. Remember your plan.”

  “But this isn’t part of—”

  Looking into his eyes, she said, “The Daughters may have surprised us, but they didn’t surprise the Lord. He is the source of your wisdom.” She watched peace return to his features, like a feather settles after a slight breeze.

  While the Daughters of Jerusalem entered, Solomon challenged his steward privately. “I declared only one matter to judge in court today. By allowing the Daughters of Jerusalem to add to your list of petitioners”—he looked directly into the man’s wide eyes—“you have placed yourself at the top of my new investigation list, steward.”

  Elihoreph stuttered, hesitated, gulped, and tried to explain. “But Shiphrah and Sherah said—”

  Solomon held up a hand to silence him. “I will deal with you later.”

  Shiphrah and Sherah floated toward the throne, their fine linen robes of better quality than any queen. Each offered a perfunctory bow at King Solomon’s throne before Shiphrah spoke. “We bring a matter of national importance, my lord.”

  Solomon’s face was like stone, but Arielah noticed his cheeks flush. “Get on with it, Shiphrah.”

  Shiphrah smiled coldly. “We represent the wives who stand before you, each of them lodging the same complaint. Before this shepherdess came into the palace,” she said, casting a disparaging glance at Arielah, “you followed the wise custom of King David and other powerful kings by establishing your household with a growing harem.”

  When she took a breath to continue, Sherah forged ahead with the complaint. “My sister and I have been pleased to manage the king’s household, aiding your foreign alliances by embracing your foreign wives.”

  “However . . .” Shiphrah wrenched the attention from her sister. “It has come to our attention that the woman seated on your right intends to reclaim her position as your only wife.” A ripple of discontent spread through the royal women.

  Solomon’s expression remained dismissive. “Is anything else bothering you, Shiphrah? Is your chamber too small or the mikvah baths too cool?” His condescension stoked her ire.

  “Yes, now that you offer me a hearing,” she said, her voice rising, “we have young Judean maidens that are as flat as walls right now, not as round as your Shulammite wife has become.” She raised an eyebrow, pointing at Arielah’s stomach. “You’ve married plenty of foreign women, but what should we tell Judean girls who dream of someday being the king’s wife?”

  Solomon began to laugh, further fueling her tirade.

  “If our Judean women lack beauty, we’ll cover them with silver and jewels. We’ll even enclose them in cedar panels if you want them to smell like your northern shepherdess.”

  Solomon slammed his hand down on the lion’s-head armrest, his laughter ceasing.

  Arielah reached for his hand, calming him. She leaned close. “This is not our battle, my love. May I address her complaint?”

  He looked into her eyes, a nod his only response, his lips pressed tightly in barely contained fury.

  Arielah w
as filled with a calm like she’d never known. “Shiphrah, I am a wall, strong and enduring. And I’ve become ‘round,’ as you call it, because I will soon bear the king’s child.”

  The crowd hummed at the news that her loose-fitting robe had evidently hidden.

  “Some kings strive endlessly to rule a nation and gain power. Solomon’s heart now rests in the contentment of my love and Jehovah’s power.” Turning toward David’s wives and concubines, she raised her voice to be heard. “Do you remember the difference in the days of King David’s peace and the days of his striving?”

  Some of the older women nodded their affirmation.

  The grand doors of the entrance hall burst open, and Bathsheba stood at the threshold. Utter silence ushered her forward, and the crowd parted as she approached the Daughters of Jerusalem. “When a king’s heart is marred by sin, he cannot rule his nation well.” Taking her place among David’s other wives, she added, “But when a king is at peace with Jehovah and finds contentment in the arms of a woman he loves, Israel flourishes under his reign.”

  Sherah’s voice crescendoed. “But we were chosen to manage the harem! We were to determine whom he favored!” Her tantrum was interrupted by Benaiah’s sudden appearance at the entrance hall doors. He and Hezro led Oliab between them.

  Solomon waved away the Daughters of Jerusalem. “Shiphrah and Sherah, I find your complaints tiresome and without merit. Queen Arielah is one of my treaty brides, and I will honor the vows I have made to her.” Then looking across the anxious faces of his other wives, he added, “And I will fulfill my vow to produce an heir for each of my other treaty brides—as God allows.”

  Whispers rippled over the audience, and Arielah would have found Solomon’s disclosure utterly humiliating had the courtroom been filled with men. But as she looked into the grateful tears of other women, those who undoubtedly longed for a child, she placed a protective hand on her belly and thanked Jehovah for an honorable king.

  Two Cherethite guards reached for the Daughters of Jerusalem to escort them aside, but both women issued deadly stares and stepped nobly to the right of the platform.

  Benaiah reached the dais with his prisoner, and Arielah could barely breathe. She knew this moment was coming. Solomon had reviewed the plan with her, and Oliab would admit his crime before the throne. She had been coached to act terrified. How could she have guessed the terror would be real?

  Her whole body trembled uncontrollably. “It’s him. It’s one of the men who beat me that night.” Tears sprang to her eyes.

  Benaiah exchanged a concerned glance with Solomon. “I bring before you Oliab, a watchman of Israel,” Benaiah said, his voice echoing off the walls. “He comes to confess his crimes against Queen Arielah.”

  She felt Solomon’s hand begin to tremble beside hers. His anger, like her fear, did not seem rehearsed. “Look at my wife,” he growled at the man who bowed before them. “Lift your head and look at what you’ve done.”

  Arielah felt every eye in the courtroom examining her scars.

  When Oliab lifted his head, he appeared broken, his words seeming sincere and humble. “The Daughters of Jerusalem paid me and three other watchmen to punish . . . to beat . . . Queen Arielah.” His voice broke.

  Then he turned to Arielah, startling her. She wanted to flee, to run, but his eyes—they were different. Sad. Defeated.

  “I can’t forget how your face glowed with peace,” he said. “Even when Sherah spit on you, my lady.” His face twisted with emotion. “I hate what I have done to you, but I’m thankful for seeing Jehovah in your eyes, my lady.” A sob escaped, and he raised his shackled hands to hide his shame.

  “This is ridiculous!” Shiphrah cried. “He is trying to discredit us before the king and the women of his harem, whom we hold dear.” Sherah, chin held high, nodded her agreement.

  Solomon, maintaining a semblance of calm, appealed to the audience. “Who in this courtroom will testify to the truth of this man’s actions?”

  “No one can testify,” Sherah interrupted. “Even if we were guilty, which we’re not”—she received a leering reprimand from her sister—“there are no men present to testify.”

  “Yes, I see that somehow only women—royal women—have found their way into my courtroom,” Solomon said, pointing to the crowd. He gasped, and then with mock surprise, he said, “But wait! Who is that in back?”

  Holding back a grin at his poorly feigned shock, Arielah watched the twins’ heads snap to attention. “Who? No one.” Shiphrah answered her rhetorical question. “Only royal women and harem guards are present.” She undoubtedly knew best whom she and Sherah had invited to the hearing.

  Solomon signaled Sekhet to begin her slow march up the center aisle. The six Nubian guards trailed behind her. And indignation bloomed in the Daughters of Jerusalem.

  “That Egyptian queen cannot testify!” Sherah stomped her foot.

  Sekhet glanced in her direction and said something in Egyptian—no doubt delightfully evil. Solomon added to the moment by saying, “I have no idea what Queen Sekhet said, but I would imagine her Nubian warriors could translate for us.”

  All color drained from the twins’ faces. “How can they translate?” Shiphrah asked. “They don’t speak Hebrew.”

  Solomon’s only reply was a victorious smile.

  “I will not repeat the words of my queen,” one Nubian said, his voice deep and rich, his words perfect Hebrew.

  “I believe Israelite law says a foreigner cannot testify against an Israelite woman,” Shiphrah said flatly.

  Solomon laughed out loud. “Shiphrah, there is no such law. Your lies and tricks have been dried up like a wadi in summer’s heat. We can choose any of these Nubian guards to serve as second witness—a male witness—against you and Sherah. Would you like to pick which man will condemn you?”

  “Nooooo!” Shiphrah lunged at Solomon, but Benaiah swept her into his grasp. “You cannot do this!” she said, kicking and fighting his restraint. Sherah merely sobbed, melting into a puddle on the floor.

  Solomon stood, walked to the edge of the platform, and glared at the twins. “Silence them,” he said, giving Benaiah permission to use whatever means necessary to gain control. Turning to Sekhet’s guards, he said, “Tell me in Hebrew words how the Daughters were involved in Queen Arielah’s attack.”

  The Nubian guards used the Israelite language to condemn the Judean women and described the atrocities they’d witnessed.

  Only one question came from Solomon’s lips. “Why didn’t you tell someone before Arielah was attacked?”

  Without malice, the Nubian answered with a question of his own. “Who would you have believed, King Solomon—six Egyptian guards or your two Judean maidens?”

  The truth of his words pierced the king. Before Arielah’s beating, Solomon had viewed Sekhet as a nuisance, so he never would have listened to her guards. “I believe you now,” Solomon said. The Nubian inclined his head, and the king thought he noted a hint of promise in the man’s arched brow. “Are you aware of more information on other traitors among us?”

  A slow, wry smile stretched across the Nubian’s lips. “I had hoped you would let your commander . . . what is the Hebrew word . . . extract names from the Daughters of Jerusalem.”

  Solomon realized the sad irony in what he was about to say. “Unfortunately, using any statements from Shiphrah and Sherah would be prohibited for the same reason they couldn’t be condemned earlier. A woman’s testimony is inadmissible in my courtroom.”

  “My Nubian brothers and I have more to say on the matter, King Solomon.” He bowed and backed away, honoring the most important task at hand—the judgment of those present.

  “My lord,” Benaiah said, still holding Shiphrah’s rigid form, “those guilty of crimes against Queen Arielah await your verdict.”

  Solomon stood at the edge of the dais, his back to Arielah. The crowd was utterly silent. “Solomon, my love,” he heard Arielah whisper.

  No. She wouldn’t.
/>   “Solomon,” she said a little louder.

  He knew what she was going to suggest. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. Someone must pay for her scars.

  Whispers from the crowd. Women covering their mouths and pointing. He turned and found Arielah standing unaided by his throne.

  “What are you doing?” He rushed at her, grasping her waist before she fell. He held her but looked away when he felt her eyes on him. “Do not ask it of me, Arielah. I cannot.”

  “Solomon, my love. Look at me.”

  Slowly, almost painfully, he lifted his gaze.

  “Jehovah asks that we act justly,” she said. “But he also loves mercy.”

  He could feel his composure slipping. “Arielah, this watchman admits to the crime, and we finally have two witnesses against the Daughters of Jerusalem. The law supports a death sentence for all three. Why offer mercy when they have offered you nothing but pain?”

  “I keep thinking of my brothers, Solomon. Abba offered them mercy repeatedly.”

  “And they hurt you repeatedly!” His shout echoed in the courtroom.

  She let the echo die before she answered. “But Igal repented, and now his life is rich and full of love. Oliab reminds me of Igal’s changed heart. Couldn’t we offer all three of them an opportunity to repent?”

  Solomon shook his head, closing his eyes and his heart. “I won’t forgive them, Arielah. Not after what they’ve done. If they repent, I’ll be expected to forgive, and I can’t. I won’t.”

  She lifted her hand to his cheek and said the words gently. “Mercy and forgiveness are like water, my love. When they flow to us, they must be allowed to flow through us, or they become stagnant and putrid in our souls.”

  The words stung his freshly forgiven heart. Jehoshaphat’s wisdom, Reu’s forgiveness, Arielah’s love—all these had tilled the soil so her words could take root in his soul.

  A little mischief crept into her voice. “Perhaps you could show the same mercy to the Daughters of Jerusalem that I’ve heard you offered the old priest Abiathar.”