|
|||||||
|
|
|
|||||
|
|
|||||||
King David danced around the golden, glimmering Ark, laughing loudly as he sang the Song of Moses. His tallit, blue and purple, whipped around his body as he twirled about the Ark. The thousands of Israelites who formed the procession also danced, sang and shook their tambourines. And before the huge, joyous parade, like solemn statues untouched by the gaiety of the event, four Levitical Priests somberly carried the Ark of the Covenant up the broad dirt road that wound toward Jerusalem.
Pennants waved, soldiers laughed, ladies sang, children danced while the parade continued, the very earth shaking as the triumphant king led his people, along with their beloved Ark, back to the capitol of Jerusalem.
It was a beautiful day, Solomon remembered. The sky shone a brilliant blue, with not a cloud in sight. The weather felt warm, and the leaves began to burst forth with color as Spring gave way to Summer. Solomon, young as he was, remembered the joy, the laughter, the smiles . . . how everyone looked so happy.
Solomon walked near the front of the vast parade, and so could see his father dancing and singing about the Ark, as the priests carefully carried it into the large city. Although many looked at the Ark, Solomon’s eyes never lef those of his father. He felt an amazing awe as he viewed his father, unabashedly worshipping YHVH (the name of the Hebrew Creator) like a child. Solomon wanted to possess the infectious joy that David always carried with him. He wanted it more than anything.
His father looked genuinely happy, and his glowing excitement spread among the Israelites like wildfire. Solomon felt the same energy. He had always loved his dad, but today, more than any other day, he felt a special pride for his father.
The gleaming, white city walls stretched high above them. The two main eastern gates flung wide as another crowd, awaiting the return of her king and his treasure, began crying out in song. People from high atop the parapets and roofs began throwing banners, silk streamers and brightly colored flags over the oncoming parade. Solomon stepped into the city, and caught his breath as a burst of rainbow colors swirled through the air. Solomon was twelve years old, and in his short life he had never seen Jerusalem so happy before. After losing the precious Ark to their enemies, at long last Israel had retrieved her treasure.
They walked down the main street. Tall houses and shops lined the wide boulevard. This road would take them into David’s court. Men, women and children from the city joined the parade, adding the strength of their voices to the ground shaking singing.
David, his head back in laughter, grabbed a silver trumpet from one of his officers and blew it loudly. The crowd cheered in joy. The high, piercing sound caused everyone to sing even louder.
As they neared the court of the king, one woman stood high atop a tower, looking down on the parade from her slitted window. Her name was Michal, daughter of the late King Saul, wife of David. She looked down on the king, her face filled with dark rage. She despised David. And now she despised him even more. Just as David’s joy caused young Solomon to adore him, that same spectacle caused Michal to hate him.
He’s making a fool of himself, Michal thought, her hands twisting the curtains. The fool, boy-king, is what he is. Nothing more. My father was replaced by this idiot? Michal shook her headin disgust. Though she thought no one saw her, one did.
Young Solomon looked up, his eyes drawn to the one face that looked so out of place from the sea of joy flooding the city. He stopped for a moment, studying the hate in Michal’s pale countenace, a tiny white oval looking down from the tower. His sharp eyes could make out the hatred buring from her visage. Solomon frowned just a bit, not understanding why Michal could not embrace the joy of her husband. He shook his head, as if throwing off a bad cold, and allowed his gaze to return to his father.
David began to furiously set up a tent, a tabernacle of sorts. Others scrambled to help. Soldiers waiting for the king brought forth rope, leather tarp and stakes. Solomon watched in wonder as his father created a temporary shelter for the beautiful Ark, now recovered from their enemies.
The songs, dancing and music continued well into the night, as David declared a feast throughout the city. Solomon would never forget that day. It would remain with him until his death. It was the best moment of his life.
Joshua stood at attention in the huge hallway. He could hear the summer night song of the crickets outside. Several flickering torches cast Joshua’s shadow along the stone walls. He stood in front of a broad, golden plated door: the door of the king. It was his duty this night to stand guard before the king’s bedchamber. One hand rested on the pommel of his sword, the other gripped a long spear held across his chest. For eight hours he would stand at attention, ready to protect his king from any danger.
The yell caught Joshua off guard. He tensed, gripping his spear. It was a moan now. A moan of pain . . . from behind the door?
“My lord?” Joshua raised his voice. “My lord, are you all right?”
Another moan, louder this time.
Joshua swung his spear down and quickly opened the door. The last embers of a fire glowed underneath the cedar mantelpiece on the far side of the room, casting the bedchamber in a soft, red light.
Joshua could see David on his bed, several blankets around him, shivering and moaning. He hurried across the room. The king’s body shimmered with sweat, his beard looked soaked and his face very red. He shivered violently.
“My lord, what is wrong?”
David swallowed and clutched the blankets closer. “Please . . . get Zadok . . . he will know what to do.”
Joshua turned to a servant standing near David’s bed. He ordered him to fetch the priest. Within minutes the servant scrambled into the room, followed by a worried Zadok. The priest rushed to David’s bed and laid one hand on his damp forehead.
“Get that fire burning again,” Zadok whispered to Joshua.
A group of priests filed into the room, standing close to the priest.
Zadok, his long black beard and dark eyes glowing in the fire, turned to his gathered followers. “The king has the chills. He needs warmth and comfort. Instruct Joab to send out his men to bring a beautiful virgin from the coast. Perhaps a woman can help comfort the king and dispel the chills.”
The priests bowed and hurried out of the room. Joshua rushed to Zadok. “What should I do?”
“Keep your guard. We shall have our cure within a few hours. In the meantime, keep the fire hot. We must make the king as comfortable as possible.”
“Joshua!” A loud voice jolted him from his sleep. The young soldier bolted up right, dropping the metal stoker. Sunlight streamed into his eyes. Joab, his burly broad shoulders tense, towered over him.
David and Abishag lay asleep on the bed, the king’s head in her lap.
“Falling asleep? Do you not care for your king?”
Joshua felt his face turn red as he scrambled to his feet. “I’m sorry, my captain, I--”
“Enough!” Joab whispered. “I don’t want you to wake them. Grab your things and take your post. I will send someone to relieve you within the hour.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Joshua grabbed his spear. Just as he followed Joab out the door he stole a glance back over his shoulder. The placid serenity across David’s face stayed in Joshua’s mind for a long time.
Nathan, his gray beard whipping in the strong wind, walked briskly across the king’s courtyard toward a single hall. As he entered the corridor, he counted the doors until he reached the seventh. He opened it without knocking. An older woman, long dark hair tinged with gray, sat before her fireplace, drinking a mug of hot tea. Several hand maidens stood near her.
Bathsheba rose from her seat and bowed. “My lord. What brings you here?”
Nathan gently lowered his head and then hurried over to Bathsheba. “Your son is in danger. So are you. You must speak with the king immediately.”
Bathsheba could read the fear in Nathan’s steely eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“My servants have told me that Adonijah has begun coronation offerings outside of Jerusalem in the King’s Paradise. Abiathar is anointing him king and Joab is pledging his political support. He intends to make himself king even before David is dead!”
Bathsheba caught her breath. “But Solomon is to be king.”
Nathan looked darkly at the woman. “Adonijah is only concerned about consolidating his own power. He has convinced others that his father wants him to be the next king. And when David dies, he will try to kill you and your son. You are all that stands in his way to the throne.”
“Adonijah would never raise a hand against me!” Bathsheba whispered. But Nathan’s intense gaze caused her to falter.
Nathan turned toward the door. “You must go to your husband immediately. David must know of Adonijah’s treachery.”
“He may not believe me,” Bathsheba said quietly.
“Go to him. I will come in afterward to confirm your story.”
Bathsheba gathered her robes and hurried out of the room, Nathan close behind.
Solomon gripped the reigns of the slow mule as he trotted beneath the arch of the main city gates. His sixteen year old face looked courageous, even though he had no idea where these leaders of David’s government led him. They all followed Nathan, one of his aged hands on the large, flat nose of the mule. To his right stood Benaiah, fifteen years Solomon’s senior. Solomon had known Benaiah from a young boy and they had often played together. He was a tall, muscular man, with a crop of dark brown hair and a thick, red beard. His eyes of blue could pierce the soul and soften like the sky. He had grown into one of the youngest, accomplished warriors in David’s court and, because of his friendship with Solomon, had become a great friend to the king.
To his left walked Zadok, his long dark beard and dark eyes cast to the ground. Nathan looked determined, Benaiah looked excited, but Zadok looked tired and sober. In his dark eyes, Solomon could see a weight, a burden that few had learned to carry. Zadok knew the danger Solomon even now walked through, and knew they had to act fast or face the sword of Adonijah’s new government.
The three men carefully escorted Solomon over the plains of Judea toward the small town of Gihon. Any who happened to see the men without watching closely might have mistook them for common peasants, making their way with a stubborn mule toward some farm. And so it was that none of Adonijah’s spies spotted them.
Jonathan, son of Abiathar the High Priest, rushed through the gardens, rain slapping his face. He slid through some mud, grabbing desperately at a bush. He managed to just avoid a painful fall. He hurried toward the central fountain, breathing hard.
He burst into a crowd of people, drinking, singing and cheering. A tall, long dark haired man stood on a bloodied altar, addressing the crowd.
Jonathan rushed to Abiathar. “Father! They have just anointed Solomon king!”
Abiathar frowned and blinked at his son. He looked at his muddy clothing. “You are a mess!”
“Did you hear me? Zadok and Nathan have anointed Solomon king!”
Abiathar’s face turned pale, white against his bloodied robes.
Adonijah, laughing, turned toward the High Priest. “What is it, dear Abiathar? You look like a ghost!”
The crowd laughed. Abiathar shook his head and gestured Adonijah to lean down. He whispered in his ear as the crowd fell silent. Adonijah now turned pale.
He straightened, the mirth in his face gone.
“I’m afraid,” Adonijah said, his voice trembling. “That we have a problem.”
