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Queen Rebecca, dressed in a long but simple silver colored robe, passed down the gleaming, obsidian surface of the royal road. As her husband grew more obsessed with riches, she made the conscience effort to dress plain, repulsed by the lavish wealth. She crossed the very last stretch of the road as it led through the giant courtyard toward the grand Temple her husband had built years ago. An entourage of maidens followed her, accompanied by a handful of white robed Levites.
As she reached the grand, ivory steps leading up to the golden porch, her eyes caught a single red rose laid on the top most step. Her entourage paused at the bottom of the steps as she raised one hand.
Biting her lip, she bounded up the steps and picked up the rose. A tiny parchment scrolled around the stem, held in place by a thorn. She carefully picked it off and opened the letter.
Dearest love. If you’d care to join me, I have my navy prepared for a cruise along the Israelite Coast. What better way to spend an evening? Yours, The king.
Tears streamed down Rebecca’s face as she pressed the message and rose against her breast. Oh thank you Yah, thank you so much. She turned around to her entourage, smiling through her tears.
“A change of plans. How long will it take us to reach the port of Jaffa tonight?”
Solomon stood on the deck of the largest vessel in his now two hundred ship navy, his hands clasped behind his back, scanning the countryside nervously. He wore a long, red cloak that draped both shoulders. His long, dark beard hung neatly combed against his gold-plated chest. He wore white gloves, golden armor and, underneath, black satin robes. His golden crown shimmered in the fading twilight.
Benaiah, dressed in purple and red, leather armor underneath, had his long red beard neatly braided. He roughly slapped the king on the back. “Don’t worry. She’ll come.”
Solomon nodded wordlessly as he desperately searched the eastern horizon. What if she didn’t come? What if she chose to remain behind just to spite him? The last time he had seen her he had slapped her face. What if she still hadn’t forgiven him?
“Look! There!” Benaiah shouted excitedly.
Solomon spotted the chariot, surrounded by a half dozen horses, thundering down the road toward Jaffa. Solomon smiled in relief. His queen rode at a breakneck speed to meet her husband.
“See? What did I tell you?” Benaiah said, slapping Solomon on the back again.
The chariot stopped near the docks. Several soldiers climbed off their horses and stood at attention. Solomon recognized Joshua who grinned wolfishly at the king and winked. He quickly opened the chariot door.
Rebecca, dressed in a beautiful crystal studded gown, stepped from the chariot. Solomon gasped. Only once before had he seen her in the moonlit gown, as he had then named it. She looked absolutely stunning.
She smiled at her husband, still holding the rose in one hand. Solomon felt his throat tighten. She hurried over the dock and up the ramp that led to the huge vessel.
Solomon rushed to meet her, taking both her hands. They gazed at each other for a moment before kissing passionately. Benaiah began to clap, followed by Joshua and other sailors watching their rulers.
“About time for that!” Benaiah teased.
Solomon drew back and led his wife toward the front of the ship.
“Alright men, let’s get this navy going!” Benaiah ordered. Sailors scurried across the deck, untying ropes and cranking up anchors as this vessel, along with her one hundred and ninety-nine sisters, prepared to leave port.
Solomon led his wife starboard. A giant, roaring lion’s head spread out below them, jutting into the waters, forming the masthead. Golden gilded railing wrapped around the rose colored wooden deck. Each rope glimmered in the fading twilight, run through with laces of silver. The helm’s wheel, larger than most, shimmered in the same red wood, its many handles coated in white ivory. Several doors, and openings led to various cabins below, each equipped with lavish interiors.
This ship, the King David, was the flagship of the navy, and the one Solomon had personally ridden many times to Ophir. This ship, more than all the others, was designed for comfort. It was three times larger than any of the other ships, and so had poor maneuverability. It was also not equipped to defend itself. Solomon wanted his flagship to resemble more of a pleasure cruise vessel than anything else.
All the sails glimmered with gold. As a foreigner watched the ship approach, leading its huge navy, he might think he was seeing a floating palace rather than any sort of boat. Solomon loved to see the mouths drop when he first approached a foreign land in the vessel.
Solomon held his wife close as they stood on the starboard, watching as the ship pushed off westward into the placid Mediterranean, its other ships falling behind in a diamond formation.
“This is wonderful,” Rebecca breathed in awe as she gazed at her surroundings.
“You’re missing the best sight of them all,” Solomon turned her around as they sailed into the sunset.
A large, half-seen golden orb sank into the watery horizon of the Great Sea. Pinks, purples and violets stretched out from the sinking sun as the first of the stars began to prick the night sky. The horizon itself shimmered, enflamed with red and liquid gold. The entire surface of the sea blazed with a deep crimson. Rebecca gasped in wonder.
“I’ve wanted to share one of these sea sunsets with you for a long time,” Solomon whispered gently as he kissed her cheek.
Rebecca smiled, tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry for what I said. I knew you had been faithful to me. I was just angry.”
“I know,” Solomon whispered. “I’m sorry too.”
Rebecca burrowed her head into his shoulder as they began to turn northward along the coast. The stars looked so big and bright, reflecting off the Mediterranean. Thousands of flickering lights from Jaffa dotted the now darkened landscape.
“Are you still restless?” Rebecca asked softly.
Solomon paused. He knew he couldn’t lie to her now. He frowned slightly and tried to avoid the answer. “That’s an odd question for a time like this.”
Rebecca searched the bearded face of her husband, concern in her eyes. “ Why is it such an odd question? I want to know, Solomon. It’s your lack of contentment that keeps causing you to fall backward.”
Solomon sighed and shrugged. “Right now, no. I’m not restless at all. I feel completely at peace. But . . . tomorrow? I don’t know, Rebecca. There are so many things to do and projects to build and a new shipment arrives at week’s end . . . I don’t know.”
Rebecca nodded, turning herself away so her husband could not see the frown on her face. “I thought about bringing our son, but I thought it would be best if we had this time to ourselves.”
Solomon squeezed her close. “I promise tomorrow I will go to the gardens with both of you. The projects can wait.”
Rebecca smiled and burrowed herself more into him. “Thank you, honey.”
The two stood in silence for a long time, each lost in each other’s thoughts, gazing on the peaceful glassy surface of the sea, enjoying the fading warmth of the setting summer sun.
Thick boots pounded on the deck near them. Solomon glanced back over his shoulder as Benaiah approached. His face looked solemn.
“Solomon, our scout ship has reported a disturbance on the coast a few leagues to the north. It’s in the last of the Caanite villages. Massive bonfires apparently.”
Solomon shrugged. “What’s disturbing about bonfires?”
Benaiah scowled deeply. “They are burning effigies of you and your wife. They are also roasting pigs and eating them in defiance of our Torah. They have also erected some altars to Baal.”
Solomon clenched his jaw. “How many villages?”
“So far, around five. Although our scouts think all of the villages along that portion of the coast are joining in the rebellion. Apparently they knew you were coming.”
“Who lives there?”
“The Caanites, Hittities, Jebusites, perhaps a few Philistines. Most of them pagans.”
Solomon shook his head. “I’ve had mercy on them, only demanding a yearly tribute. But this has gone far enough. I won’t have the vagrants polluting Israel.”
Benaiah nodded, his hands dropping to the hilt of the sword. “I recommend you send us onto land. We can burn every village down and wipe out every last person.”
Solomon shook his head with a sigh. “No, no. I don’t want my reign to become bloody. We’ve had too much blood spilt in this nation already. David might have heeded your advice, but this is a different time. Besides, killing them all would be far too merciful.”
“My lord?”
Rebecca also stared at her husband in confusion.
“If they are determined to try to humiliate me, I will humiliate them. I will show to the world what happens to those who thumb their nose at Solomon and Israel. I want them all captured. Only use the sword as a last means. Go ahead and burn down their villages and altars. They won’t be needing them anymore. Take the men to the mines. Have the women sent to the Royal Courts. They can see how slavery suits their proud lives.”
Benaiah shook his head, rubbing his red beard. “I strongly advise against this, Solomon. The Torah warns us that these people will become a thorn in our sides and smoke in our eyes if we do not destroy them. Even as slaves, they would be leaven in the heart of Israel. I say purge the leaven.”
Solomon shook his head firmly. “No. I want them to suffer. I want them to know what slavery is like. I want them to be made an example. We will be smoke in their eyes, captain.”
“What about the children?” Benaiah asked.
Solomon shrugged. “If they are older than five, they can work. Place them where they are needed. If they are younger than five . . . place them in the care of Israelite midwives until they are old enough to work.” A darkness settled over Benaiah and Rebecca as they exchanged worried looks.
Benaiah bowed low and shook his head. “I think this is unwise, Solomon.”
This time Solomon slapped Benaiah on the back, grinning wolfishly. “Don’t worry, Benaiah. Remember, I’m supposed to be the wisest man on earth.”
Solomon hit the reins hard and he felt an instant response from the steed’s muscles as they churned beneath him. His black war horse thundered through the mud. A hard rain continued to fall as he led his army. Benaiah rode close behind and to the right. Joshua rode to his left. For two weeks his army had swept through the northern coastal plains, destroying every village, capturing alive every man, woman and child.
Solomon had decided to join his army on this final leg of the campaign. One last village, one of the large Hittite villages, had erected a barricade and now determined to fight Solomon’s army. Solomon, galled at the rebellion, wanted to accompany his army personally.
They crested the muddy hill even as the rain poured harder. Flashes of lightning filled the sky. He could hear the waves of the Mediterranean crashing against the rocky coast. Near the bottom of the hill, in a small valley, the last Hittite village stood. A pathetic looking barricade of logs and stone surrounded the town.
Solomon lifted his arm and the armies behind him stopped. Israelite armies had also swept down from the north and east, hedging the village in. Solomon and his men approached from the south. The northern and eastern armies stood poised and ready to launch an attack.
Solomon scanned the barricade in the rain. Benaiah drew up next to his king.
“The barricade is weak,” Benaiah shouted through the rain. “We could charge it.”
Solomon nodded. He gripped his reigns hard. “That’s what we’ll do. I want them scared to death!”
Benaiah lifted his hand with a signal. Solomon yelled and slapped the reigns hard. As one, all three Israelite armies swept down the hillsides toward the barricaded village. Solomon could hear the men beyond the barricade wail in terror.
As they neared within a hundred feet, a volley of Israelite arrows tore through the air and slipped beyond the barricade. Cries cut the air as men fell from off the barricade ramparts.
Within fifty feet, another volley of Israelite arrows, these doused in flame, shot directly toward the barricade itself. Flames engulfed the rickety barricade as more men screamed and backed away. Solomon braced himself, sword thrust forward, charging directly toward the barrier.
He felt his thickly armored war horse break through the burning wood even as the barricade collapsed around them in burning embers. Like terrors of hell, the Hittite warriors watched these Israelite men charge through flame, swords raised high, dark horses trampling them to their deaths. Hardly anyone stood to fight. The Hittites scrambled in terror as the Israelite army decimated the barricade with the force of their horses, bodies and the flames.
Solomon swung his broadsword around him, whacking off heads and cutting down fleeing men. No mercy! No mercy!
Within half an hour, the Israelite army had burned the entire village to the ground and almost every man lay dead. The women and children huddled in the rain as soldiers rounded them up to be taken as slaves to Jerusalem. Bitterness and defiance burned in their eyes, but they said nothing. Solomon sat on his horse in the middle of the carnage, blood dripping from his arms and covering his legs up to his waist. He screamed out a victory cry, lifting his sword high into the air. Others followed his example.
Benaiah pulled along side his friend, his face dark with brooding. “Solomon, I recommend we kill the women and children. They will go as slaves, but they saw what we did to their husbands and fathers. They will harbor murder in their hearts for us and will cause us trouble later on.”
Solomon smiled grimly. “Let them try. No, I want them to remember this day. They will learn, Benaiah. They will learn.”
Benaiah inclined his head before he thundered off into the rain, fire and mist.
The fall arrived in Israel unusually cold and blustery. Thick clouds covered the sky and the rain that had soaked the final weeks of summer continued on, flooding many parts of Israel. What many an Israelite farmer had feared in a drought now transformed into a fear of flooding. The rains covered the land with such a ferocity, few could remember the last time such heavy floods had swept through Israel.
Solomon walked through a lushly decorated hall in his court on one such a rainy afternoon. As he walked quickly, thinking of the next order of business he needed to attend, his eye caught one of the most beautiful young women he had ever seen. She had long, dark hair, olive colored skin, and dark eyes. Tall and slender, she looked half Solomon’s age. The king paused, watching her polish a brass menorah in the hall.
She looked up and smiled at him boldly.
Solomon cleared his throat and walked toward the slave woman. She looked foreign.
“What is your name, my lady?” He asked politely.
“Zeriah,” she said, her voice low and soft. “From the village of Manwer.”
Solomon cocked an eyebrow. “You are a Hittite then? Your name sounds Hebrew.”
She rose to her feet. “My father loved Hebrew names.” Solomon gazed at her face. He had never seen someone so beautiful before. Not even the Queen of Sheba. And, to think, a slave girl. A pagan Hittite!
Solomon began to circle her. “Tell me, Zeriah, how do you like working here in the House of Solomon?”
“Very much. I never liked the smell of fish and salt air. I much prefer this place.”
“Really?” Solomon rocked back on his heels. “Even though in your village you possessed freedom and here you have none?”
Zeriah shrugged. “I was a slave to my husband. He was brutal and mean. Now he’s dead, and I am free from his tyranny. I couldn’t be happier.”
Solomon smiled. He then frowned, noticing a scar running down her neck. He walked toward her, gently tracing the scar with his finger. Very smooth skin. “He did this to you?”
She nodded wordlessly.
Solomon’s hand rested on her chest. He suddenly withdrew his hand, feeling the his face grow hot. “Well Zeriah, you shall be well taken care of here. I assure you.”
She looked up at Solomon. “Thank you, my lord. You are very gracious. The legends about you do not even begin to do you justice.”
Solomon laughed. “I see. And what sort of legends did your tiny village have of me?”
She smiled delicately, showing her beautiful, perfect teeth. “Many said you were a monster. But even those who hated you described the riches and wealth you had. I can see even those stories, as unbelievable as they were, did not even come close to really showing how noble and honorable and wealthy you truly are.”
Solomon’s eyes glazed as he smiled broadly. “Well, for a slave girl, you know how to speak words pleasing to a king.”
She smiled seductively. “I have waited long to meet him.”
“Have you now?” Solomon said playfully. “Well, now that you have, what do you think of him?”
She shrugged, still smiling. “I think he is more handsome in person than any of the stories I have heard.”
He cleared his throat. “Well, my Zeriah, I shall have to keep my eyes upon you. Thank you for your service. I’m sure we shall . . . meet again.”
She smiled and dropped to her knees, returning to her work. Solomon gazed at her a moment longer before continuing down the hall. For some reason, he could not remember why he had come down this hall in the first place.
Solomon leafed through the parchments in his library study. Caleb sat across the table, scribbling several notes down. They could both hear the pounding of the rain on the stone roof of the library tower.
Solomon suddenly set the parchments down and sighed loudly. He stared up at the scrolls on one wall.
“My lord? Are you all right?” Caleb said, looking up.
Solomon sighed again and kicked back his chair. He rose to his feet. “I’m distracted, Caleb.”
“Distractions come and go, my lord,” Caleb said, returning to his writing.
Solomon began to pace the room. “Have you met all the slave women in the court, Caleb?”
He continued to write. “I have met all of them on one occasion or the other, my lord. It was I who assigned their tasks.”
Solomon stopped pacing and stroked his thick beard. “Do you happen to remember a Zeriah? A Hittite woman?”
Caleb looked up, his forehead crinkled in thought. “Not particularly, my lord. Why? Is there something wrong?”
Solomon shook his head. “Oh, no, no. I . . . I passed her in the hallway two days ago. She was polishing a Menorah.”
Caleb’s eyes widened. “Oh, yes, Zeriah! I remember her now. A bit feisty as I recall. She had a bit of a rebellious attitude. I thought keeping her in the deep interior of the palace where I could keep a close eye on her was best.”
“Rebellious?” Solomon shook his head in confusion. “Are you certain? She seemed rather docile to me.”
Caleb nodded. “No, I am sure. Very beautiful young woman, but a nasty spirit. I was worried that she would cause problems among the other slaves. So I isolated her.”
Solomon brought a glass to his lips and sipped the wine. “Hmm. Well, perhaps you chose wisely. She seems to be softening up.”
Caleb smiled. “Excellent!” He returned to his writing. Then, as if thinking better of the matter, he set his feather pen down and continued. “Although I wouldn’t be too naive about her, my lord. Others spoke of her as a liar and double talker. She seems to act in a way most suitable to her purposes. I would say she is a manipulator.”
“Well, she’s been through a lot, Caleb. Did you see the scar her husband gave her?”
Caleb shook his head. “No, she got that scar fighting with one of my men, my king. I saw it myself.”
Solomon stood in stone silence. “I see.” He set his cup down. “Perhaps you are right about her, then. She lies well.”
“If you would prefer, I can move her outside the palace to the stables--”
“No!” Solomon barked. Caleb stared at him in surprise. Solomon smiled nervously and lowered his voice. “Everything is fine. I’m sure she will learn her place. No harm was done. Thank you for the information, Caleb.”
Caleb nodded, confusion on his face as he returned to his work. Solomon wordlessly departed the room.
Joshua knocked on the thick, oaken door, newly plated in pure gold. The king’s voice urged him to enter. He pressed open the door and into the royal bedchamber. Solomon stood before his roaring fireplace, his thick red cloak draping his back, his crown glinting in the light.
“My lord and king, you called?” Joshua stood at attention just inside the door.
Solomon nodded, his back still facing Joshua. Joshua idly wondered where the queen was. Perhaps in her palace?
“Joshua, I need you to do me a favor.”
“Yes, my lord?” Joshua asked.
“It concerns a slave woman by the name of Zeriah. A Hittite slave woman. She works in the lower main hall.”
“My lord?” Joshua asked. “Caleb handles the slaves. Perhaps you should spea--”
Solomon turned around and shook his head. “No, Joshua. Caleb doesn’t need to worry himself with this small matter. He’s swamped with work and behind schedule because of the rains. This is a minor detail.”
Joshua nodded slowly. “Of course, my lord.”
“I want Zeriah to clean in the West Wing. She will be restricted to that portion of the court. Understood?”
Joshua nodded. “Certainly, my lord. But I thought only Israelite maids were allowed access to your personal apartments?”
Solomon shook his head. “Zeriah is a troublemaker. I want her out of the way and as isolated as possible. Please see this done before you retire for the evening.”
Joshua saluted. “Yes, my lord. I will do it immediately.”
As he turned toward the door, he heard Solomon walking toward him. “Oh, and Joshua?”
The middle aged soldier stopped and faced his king.
“Don’t bother to tell anyone about this arrangement. I don’t want anyone troubled by such an unnecessary detail.”
Joshua looked at Solomon in confusion. “Of course, my lord. I would never do such a thing.”
Solomon nodded, smiling a little too broadly. “Excellent, Joshua. Excellent. Very good. Lyla Tov.”
Joshua bowed and quietly departed the room.
