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Zeriah entered the bedchamber, wearing the same silver gown that Solomon had given her nearly six years ago. She smiled seductively at her husband. Solomon lay sprawled in his bed, reading a scroll.
“You’re early, my love,” Solomon said. Oh, how beautiful she is this evening.
“I thought you would like to make the most of this evening,” Zeriah said, her eyes narrowing.
Solomon closed the book and set it on an ivory bed stand. “Of course, my love. I have missed you more than any other wife. Come to bed.”
Zeriah stopped by the fire and poured a glass of wine for herself and one for her husband. With her back shielding the glasses, she poured a few black drops into one of the glasses. She swirled the glass and the dark drops mixed into the red wine. She took the drugged wine in her left hand and placed her own in her right. She smiled as she turned toward Solomon.
“Let us take a drink, first,” Zeriah purred.
She walked up the marbled terrace toward the bed. She handed the wine glass in her left hand to her husband as she sipped her own. Solomon drew the glass to his nose, sniffed and then shook his head. Funny, I’ve never refused wine before. But for some reason, I just don’t feel like drinking. “No, not now. I’ll drink after we make love. I don’t want to cloud my mind at all while we are together for the first time in months.”
Zeriah frowned. “I hardly think one sip will hurt.”
Solomon set his glass on the table. “But one sip leads to another. It can wait.”
Zeriah picked his glass up and slid into bed with him. “Oh, come now, honey. You know how I love to taste wine on your breath. Just one little sip. For me.”
Joshua warned me about Zeriah . . . and what was it? Something about getting me drunk? Perhaps I should just be careful--
Zeriah kissed her husband, pressing her body against his. You’re being foolish, Solomon. Stop being so paranoid. Solomon smiled, dazed. “Well, if you put it that way . . .”
The king took the cup and sipped it. He grimaced. “Ooh, that wine tastes a bit bitter. I’ll have to get the servants to throw it out.”
Zeriah smiled wickedly, setting his glass down on the table. “Hmm, mine tasted fine. Must be your imagination.” She gently kissed him and rose from the bed.
Solomon suddenly grabbed his head. “I . . . I don’t feel so well. Zeriah . . . Zer--”
He tried to stumble from the bed to shake off the dizziness but only fell onto the hard marble stone. Zeriah sneered at her husband. Such a pathetic wretch. I ought to kill him right now.
Solomon pulled himself into a sitting position. His speech slurred. “I . . . I can’t seem to see right . . . everything looks like a blur.”
Zeriah nodded as Solomon grabbed his head, leaning against the side of his bed. “My dear, you seem to be having a fainting spell. I will fetch some salts to revive you.”
She hurried down the terrace and out of the room. Moments later, the door opened and shut quietly as another person entered the room. Solomon looked up, dazed. “Zeriah, ishh thwwhat you?”
A tall figure slowly approached the king. A black cloak hid his face. Solomon squinted his eyes at the figure and shook his head. He could not see anything but a dark blur advancing toward him. “Zeriah?”
But his would-be murderer remained silent as he approached, his hand clutching a knife deep within his dark robes.
Benaiah and Joshua ran across the roof in the cold night. Their breath puffed out in white clouds. The cold stars burned brightly above. A fierce east wind chilled them to the bone. They scurried to the center of the roof where a slatted square hatch waited for them. A single iron handle dominated the center of the wooden trap door.
The two men crouched over it.
“Alright,” Benaiah breathed. “I’ll go down into the attic. When I throw this red scarf up, you go get your men.”
Joshua smiled confidently. Through sheer chance, they had both managed to pin down the exact evening Caleb planned to murder the king. A few of Solomon’s concubines had mentioned in passing that Zeriah was sleeping with Solomon on this night. Joshua had just happened to over hear them chatting in a hall. They both considered the stroke as a sign of favor from the Lord. Joshua had wanted to order his men ready and prepared in one of the main halls, but Benaiah feared that would draw too much attention. Joshua would have to assemble his men as quickly as possible and mobilize them into the bedchamber. It would take at least five minutes but Joshua intended to cut the time down to three. Even then, he feared he would arrive too late.
Benaiah smiled, his red beard blowing in the wind. “Keep your prayers going. I’m going to need them.”
Joshua forced a weak smile. “You’re a good friend, captain. The king was wrong to imprison you.”
“Well, the king has been wrong about plenty lately. But we hope tonight that will begin to change.”
Benaiah grabbed the iron rung and pulled. The trap door swung open. Below Joshua could only see darkness. Benaiah quickly dropped his body down into the hole and disappeared into the darkness. Joshua carefully closed the trap door, leaving it only slightly ajar with a smooth stone wedged between the door and the roof so Benaiah could stick the scarf through.
The commander crouched in the cold wind, drawing his cloak tight around him. Now all he could do was wait. This would be the most difficult part of the plan. Waiting.
Benaiah crouched in the darkness and could feel the nearness of the walls. The attic could only be barely bigger than himself. He crouched as low as he could, breathing softly. A mesh screen on the bottom of the attic floor revealed Solomon’s bed below. Apparently the meshed screen appeared as part of the white ceiling, so seamless that one could only spot it if one were truly searching. He stared down at the bed, looking between his crouched knees. He could see Solomon reading a scroll.
He heard the door open and watched Zeriah drug the king. As she left and he lay in a stupor on the floor, leaning against his bedside, Benaiah watched as the tall, dark figure of Caleb slowly approached.
Benaiah grabbed for his red scarf to signal Joshua above. But as he reached over to pull the scarf from his belt, the mesh screen suddenly gave away. With a crack Benaiah fell through the ceiling and onto Solomon’s bed.
Joshua, oblivious, continued to wait above.
Caleb heard the crash before he realized what was happening. In a shower of plaster and wood, a large form tumbled from above and hit Solomon’s bed. The king, now completely drugged, fell face forward onto the floor, and blacked out.
Caleb watched in horror as Benaiah rose from the bed, plaster and bits of ceiling all over his skin. When he stared in Benaiah’s eyes he knew he had just met an enemy,
“Ahhh!” Caleb roared as he lunged toward Benaiah. But the captain was faster. He rolled to one side as Caleb lunged across the bed. Benaiah spun away and grabbed Caleb’s knife wielding arm down and around, pinning it behind the Scribe’s back.
Caleb groaned and dug his teeth into Benaiah’s arm. Benaiah grunted, loosening his hold on Caleb, not prepared for the sudden bite. He felt blood ooze from his arm.
Caleb seized his advantage. He tore away from Benaiah’s grip and brought his feet forward. He kicked Benaiah square in the face. The captain twisted back, grunting in pain.
Caleb drew himself into a sitting position, bringing his knife to bear. He pounced toward the recovering Benaiah. He brought his knife down in a tight arc. Benaiah rolled aside but too late. The knife gouged deeply into his arm. Benaiah screamed. Solomon stirred on the floor.
Blood poured out of Benaiah’s arm as Caleb twisted and drove the knife deeper, his teeth gritted.
Benaiah grabbed Caleb’s blood washed hand with his free one and twisted hard. He heard bones crack as he broke Caleb’s wrist. With a shriek, Caleb released the knife and fell backward.
Benaiah staggered to his feet and ripped the knife from his arm. Caleb drew his sword and lunged off the bed. The blade arced toward him. Benaiah parried the blade with the knife. Caleb swung again, harder. This time it glanced off the knife. The small knife spun out of Benaiah’s hand and clattered onto the marbled floor.
Caleb swore as he swung the sword again. Benaiah spun away and ripped free his own sword. The two men faced each other in the firelight of Solomon’s bed chamber. They slowly circled each other, holding their blades.
“You fool!” Caleb hissed. “You are spoiling everything! I would have released you after I eliminated Solomon.”
Benaiah cocked his head. “Really? And what makes you think I would have wanted to serve a murderer like you, Caleb?”
Caleb swore again and lunged forward. But Benaiah was a far better swordsman than Caleb had ever been. He easily parried the blade. Caleb struck again, consumed with rage, and Benaiah twirled his own blade with a lightning parry. Caleb lost his grip and his blade flew through the air and into the fireplace. Benaiah pressed the point of his blade against Caleb’s chest.
“If you move, I will slice open your throat,” Benaiah said through gritted teeth. The pain in his arm burned like fire. He grabbed it, trying to stop the bleeding. He felt light headed. He needed Joshua!
“Now,” Benaiah breathed. “I want you to open the chest nearest the bed. You will find some rope. I want you to give me the rope. Slowly.”
Caleb obeyed, retrieving the rope. He approached Benaiah. The captain kept his sword before him. “Slowly now.”
Caleb slowly lifted the rope toward Benaiah. Benaiah switched his sword to his bloody arm and grabbed the rope with his good one. As he did so, Caleb suddenly swung the coil into Benaiah’s face. The captain staggered back. Caleb raced toward the floor and grabbed his knife. Benaiah spun around. Caleb threw his knife. The blade spun through the air and plunged into Benaiah’s right leg. Benaiah grunted in pain.
Caleb reached over and grabbed Solomon’s naked blade laying carelessly on the marbled floor. He flew in a rage toward the badly wounded captain. Benaiah, commanding all his strength, dropped to his knees. Caleb, bolstered with confidence, swung low, hoping to cut off the captain’s head in one swipe. Anticipating the move, Benaiah watched the blade swing toward his exposed neck. With cat like reflexes, Benaiah hit the floor and plunged his sword into Caleb’s legs. Flesh and bone cracked and blood splattered the captain’s face. Caleb shrieked, dropping his blade and falling on his back. He grabbed his shredded shins in pain.
Benaiah staggered to his feet and placed one boot on Caleb’s chest. He rested the point of his sword on the traitor’s neck. “I was going to tie you up. Now, I’m going to have to do more than that.”
He knelt down. Caleb’s eyes widened in terror. “Please, captain, don’t kill me!”
Benaiah smiled bitterly. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Caleb. You don’t deserve such mercy.”
He lifted the pommel of his blade and struck Caleb’s head once. The hard knock sent the administrator into immediate blackness. Benaiah limped to the bed. He tore off some strips of bed sheet and wrapped his bleeding arm. He then wrapped his leg. Both limbs felt numb but at least the bleeding had stopped. He quickly bound Caleb’s badly bleeding legs and managed to stop the flow. He looked up at the broken ceiling. No way to alert Joshua without waking this whole wing of the court. The ceiling rose high above him, at least thirty feet. The grunts and clashes of his fight with Caleb were one thing, but yelling loud enough for Joshua to hear him would certainly alert Caleb’s allies. Benaiah shifted his gaze toward the bedroom door. They probably waited in the hall. I don’t have any time!
I’ll have to go out and find some men. But I can’t leave Solomon here. Benaiah felt his heart drop. He had no strength to carry the unconscience king. I’ll have to leave him. But what if Zeriah waited in the hall? Or Caleb’s men? Surely Caleb would not have come alone. Oh, Yah, what should I do?
Suddenly the door burst open. Joshua led two dozen Israelite soldiers into the bedchamber, swords drawn. Benaiah breathed a sigh of relief. Joshua saw the captain sitting in the bed and surveyed the scene.
“Take Caleb into custody immediately!” Joshua ordered. “Find Zeriah and arrest her as well. I also want messengers sent to Egypt to bring Benjamin back to Jerusalem.”
As the guards scrambled to obey, Joshua hurried over to Benaiah. He studied him close and then saw the king sprawled on the floor.
“Is he alive?” Joshua said in a voice that betrayed his fear. Had he come too late?
“Caleb never touched him. He’ll just have a bad headache in the morning from the drug Zeriah gave him. Whatever it was, it worked quickly.” He looked up at Joshua. “How did you know to come? I never had a chance to give you the signal.”
Joshua gave Benaiah a wolfish grin. “I got tired of waiting. Besides, it was too damn cold!”
It took little less than a week for Benjamin to return and help Joshua and the newly reinstated Benaiah round up all the coup leaders and arrest them. Zeriah, Caleb and the two dozen others waited in the dungeons while the king pondered what to do with them. Solomon woke early the next morning but the powerful drug had weakened his overall health. He had to rest for the better part of the week just to regain strength enough to leave his bed.
It was a bright early autumn morning when Solomon, pale but growing stronger, emerged from his bedchamber and joined Benaiah, Joshua and Rebecca in his dining hall. When he entered, the three rose from their seats. Solomon looked long and hard at the bandaged and limping red bearded captain.
“Captain Benaiah,” Solomon said, his face somber. “You have saved my life. Thank you.”
It was all he could say. He collapsed into his chair, weeping. Rebecca rushed over to him, hugging and kissing him, whispering words of comfort to her husband. Benaiah limped over to the couple as Joshua followed.
“It is going to be ok, now, my love,” Rebecca whispered. “Everything will be fine. Just as it was. Just like before.”
Solomon choked back his tears and smiled into his wife’s eyes. “Thank you for joining me for breakfast, my love. I have missed you.”
Rebecca cried and laughed. “I have missed you too, my dearest Solomon!” She hugged him fiercely.
Benaiah smiled down at them. “It is good to see you up and walking again, my king.”
Solomon smiled and laughed. “And I have you to thank for it! You and Commander Joshua! Joshua, come here!”
Joshua stepped forward, grinning like a boy.
“I’m so sorry for not believing you,” Solomon said. He frowned and grew serious, shaking his head. “I have acted like such a fool. To all of you. I’ve caused so much needless pain and grief. Please . . . please forgive me.” His voice broke.
Benaiah laid one hand on his friend’s shoulder. “We long ago forgave you, my lord. Long ago.”
Solomon smiled through his tears. “I don’t know what I would do without you three. You have been my most loyal friends. And I have treated you the worst.”
“Oh, well,” Benaiah winked at Solomon. “The dungeons aren’t so bad. Once you spend some time in them.”
Solomon laughed. “Ah, hah! Yes, Benaiah. You still have your sense of humor. Very good! I’m glad you haven’t changed.”
Rebecca knelt next to her husband and stroked his beard and hair. “You should rest some more. We could bring breakfast up to you.”
“No! No.” Solomon shook his head, straightening in his chair. “I’ve spent enough time in that infernal bedchamber. I want to eat like a man. And then perhaps take a stroll in the gardens. It looks beautiful out there.”
Rebecca nodded with a smile and kissed his cheek. Solomon suddenly frowned as he stared at the table. A darkness passed over his face. He looked up at Benaiah and Joshua. “Caleb? Was it really Caleb who was trying to murder me?”
Benaiah and Joshua exchanged a glance. Benaiah sighed and nodded. “I’m sorry, my lord. He had lost all respect and love for you long ago. But no matter what his reasons, nothing could justify his rebellion. He shall be punished.”
Solomon nodded, tears rimming his eyes. “And the others? How many others played a part in the attempted coup?”
Benaiah sighed. “Twenty-five others including Zeriah.”
Solomon shut his eyes as he felt pain fill his chest. Dearest Zeriah. She drugged me and left me to die. After all I have given her. All I have done for her. And she repays me with murder.
Solomon shook his head, eyes still closed. “Do any of them really love me?”
Rebecca rose, pain etched on her face. Benaiah and Joshua frowned, shifting uncomfortably.
Solomon sighed wearily and leaned into his chair, opening his eyes. “So none of my other wives were involved?”
Joshua shook his head. “No, my lord. Only Zeriah.”
“Very well, then,” Solomon set his jaw. He smiled grimly at the table before him. “You know, I think I’ve lost my appetite.”
Solomon reached for his wife. “Dear, can you help me up?”
Rebecca gently pulled her husband to his feet. He gained his balance as he rose to his feet, Rebecca supporting him. He studied Benaiah more carefully. “You look like you’ve been through a war with the Philistines, captain!”
Benaiah smiled. “Caleb was a fierce fighter for a scribe. I never knew he was so good with the knife.”
Solomon laughed. “Well, let us go enjoy the morning in the gardens. We will speak of this later.”
For the next week Solomon regained his strength. Benaiah and Joshua debated long into the night whether they should press the king to begin tearing down the altars and idols and putting away his foreign wives. In the end, they decided against it. Solomon was tender, but still recovering. They chose to step back and allow Rebecca to shower him with compassion and mercy. Perhaps her tending him would melt his heart of stone and turn him back to his Creator. If they pushed too hard, too fast, they risked pushing Solomon away. However, if Solomon had yet contemplated that the attempted murder resulted from his sin, he never told any of his friends.
And so one week turned into two. And that into three. Soon a month passed and it became obvious to the court that the king deliberately avoided confronting the issue of what to do with Caleb, Zeriah and the coup leaders.
“You can’t leave them in the dungeons forever,” Benaiah said one evening as the four of them ate dinner together.
Solomon sighed in resignation. “Yes, I know, Benaiah. I know. But I love each of those prisoners. Love them very much.”
Benaiah could see the immense pain and grief on the king’s face. He still looked so lonely. So very sad. Benaiah felt such pity for his old friend. The weariness of his sin had taken a toll and had left deep scars on his soul. No one could see the scars, of course, but Benaiah sensed them just the same. Solomon carried them wherever he walked. He simply was not the same man Benaiah remembered from years ago.
The king set his fork down and fixed his eyes on the wall. He spoke in a tone void of all emotion. “Tomorrow morning, gather the prisoners outside near the outer walls. We will hang them all.”