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The sky hung low and gray, overcast clouds rumbling with distant thunder. A strong, autumn wind blew from the east, bringing a chill and promise of winter’s soon arrival. The city of Jerusalem still lay in faint light, the morning just dawning, and the sun well shrouded behind the dark clouds above.
A steady beat of drums pounded through the city as thousands lined up along the streets and in the marketplaces to watch the twenty five coup leaders march bound to their deaths. Benaiah, the newly reinstated Captain of the Guard, led his soldiers who in turn led the prisoners toward the outermost eastern wall of Jerusalem.
Solomon rode with Rebecca and several of his wives in a walnut chariot, a large procession of soldiers ringing them. Thousands of Israelites looked on in grief and horror. The faces of those who had betrayed the king shocked many of the city dwellers. Hardly a man or woman could believe that Caleb, one of the highest officials in Israel, had actually led the unsuccessful rebellion. The faces of the remaining prisoners, men who had once commanded deep respect from those they led, caused grief and anger through the gathered peoples.
But as their king passed them, his face somber and silent, they could see the intense grief and pain in his eyes. He looked so lonely, so burdened, so sad. Many an Israelite woman openly wept when they saw the sadness in the king’s face.
When Benaiah reached the wall he halted his men. Several tall posts had been built, twenty five in all, with ropes dangling from each one of them. Twenty five boxes stood underneath each rope. Benaiah, with a swift nod of his head, cued his soldiers to hurry the prisoners into position.
Within moments all twenty four men and one woman stood on their respective box, the rope secured around their necks, waiting for their doom. The drum beat continued to pound through the city.
The royal chariot stopped at the head of the crowds, about fifty feet back from the prisoners. Benaiah issued quick orders. Soldiers fanned out behind the prisoners, swords drawn. Solomon, trembling but resolute, rose to his feet in his chariot. The beating drums ceased.
The sharp wind howled over the city. A rumble of thunder shook the air. Complete silence weighed heavy on the gathered crowd.
Solomon gave a slight nod and Benaiah climbed a small platform between the prisoners and the king. He faced the prisoners, unfurling a large scroll.
“By order of the king and his council, and by judgment of YHVH, you have all been found guilty of high treason. Because you sought to shed the blood of a man, as our laws command, your blood must now be shed. By order of his majesty, in accordance with the Torah of Moses, you are hereby sentenced to die by public hanging.”
Silence. The twenty five prisoners uttered not a word. Solomon gave another nod. Benaiah saluted the king and handed the scroll to Commander Joshua. Benaiah, his red beard flapping in the sharp wind, climbed off the platform and walked toward the prisoners. He approached the center most prisoner, Caleb, Chief Royal Scribe and Advisor to the king.
Benaiah looked up into Caleb’s fierce eyes. Caleb scowled down upon the captain, his eyes filled with hatred and loathing. Even now, he is proud and unrepentant, Benaiah thought.
“You serve a fool!” Caleb hissed. “If you had allowed me to kill him, we might have restored Israel.”
Benaiah shook his head. “Even now, proud and filled with murder.”
“You serve a madman, Benaiah!” Caleb said between clenched teeth. “A complete madman. Look at what he has done to this city. To Israel! There are idols and altars everywhere. Just last night his wives were burning incense to Molech on Mount Zion. Were you not sworn to protect Israel? Why betray her now?”
Benaiah shook his head. Caleb’s words of poison struck his heart deep. “One sin does not deserve another, Caleb. You chose the wrong way to deal with the problem.”
Caleb’s scowl deepened. “Oh, and you have not? First you are banished and then imprisoned. I assume you believe your methods have been more successful?”
“Successful or not, when I die I will have the peace of knowing that I never betrayed my king. Solomon will have to deal with his sin. Why place his burden upon me? Why have you followed the same road as Solomon?”
“I am not a whore monger and drunkard!” Caleb sneered.
“No, but you are a deceiver and a murderer. The whore monger and drunkard has the same end as those that choose your sins.”
Caleb spit. “You’re weak, Benaiah. Always have been. It is disgusting how you grovel at that fool king’s feet. King David would never--”
“You know nothing of King David!” Benaiah shouted. “How dare you presume to know such a righteous man when you yourself are so wicked.”
Benaiah looked over his shoulder. He could see Solomon staring at him in confusion, wondering why Benaiah delayed the execution. The crowd waited in silence. The red bearded captain turned back to the scribe.
“Even now, Caleb, would you confess your wrong and make peace with your Creator before you pass from this life?”
Caleb set his jaw and tore his gaze from Benaiah. He stared with utter malice at the king who looked back at him in great sadness.
Benaiah sighed. “Very well, Caleb.”
“Yah will vindicate me,” Caleb hissed.
Benaiah shook his head. “I think not, my one time friend.”
The Captain kicked the box out from under Caleb’s feet. It was a merciful death. Caleb’s neck snapped as soon as his body dropped. Caleb’s body hung limp from the rope, swinging in the wind.
Benaiah moved to the next prisoner, Queen Zeriah. Her long dark hair waved in the wind. Her eyes carried even more malice than Caleb’s. Benaiah looked up at her in awe. He had never seen such hatred from a woman before.
“Do you have any last words, Hittite slave?” Benaiah demanded.
She laughed. “Slave, eh? And yet this slave was able to influence your friend far more than you were ever able.”
Benaiah gritted his teeth. He truly hated this woman.
Zeriah laughed again. “Do you really think you are going to change your king? You may kill me, but my legacy will live on. Solomon has over a thousand wives and for every conspirator you kill today, three more will rise up to replace him. You think the danger is over?”
“I will protect the king.”
“And for what?” Zeriah sneered. “To watch him continue to play the part of a fool? Who is the greater fool? The mad king or the one who blindly serves him?”
“I have sworn my allegiance to him. You swore an oath to love him. The fool is the one who cannot live up to his oaths.”
Zeriah laughed again. “I care nothing for your customs! The fact is, captain, long after I am dead you will still serve a drunkard, whose only escape is the pleasure of his mindless women, and he will only continue to embarrass you and your nation more and more.”
“He may still change,” Benaiah countered.
“Oh?” Zeriah said, a wicked smile filling her face. “Yes, just as he may have changed all these long years.” She shook her head. “You should have let us kill him. You would have rid yourself of a pathetic ruler.”
Benaiah glanced over his shoulder at the waiting king but could clearly tell Solomon heard nothing of their conversation.
“And to replace him with what?” Benaiah yelled. “A puppet king controlled by you and Caleb? Would that have been any better?”
Zeriah shrugged. “You’re a fool, captain. You will die knowing you helped save a king who will destroy your nation.”
Benaiah flinched. Zeriah spoke just enough truth to sting him. He locked his steel gaze on the woman. “Perhaps. But I will also die knowing I did what was right and good. But I suppose even now you don’t know the meaning of those words. Goodbye, whore!”
Benaiah kicked the box. The rope snapped taut as the noose dug into the woman’s neck. She gasped in terror and pain as her body wiggled, twisted and turned. She instinctively fought against the suffocation as the rope began to drain the life from her. Benaiah stood back and watched the woman fight for her life. He watched the utter terror consume her face. In five minutes it all ended.
At last, with a final heave, her head fell forward, her hair draping her face. Her body hung limp in the wind.
Benaiah walked to the next prisoner but as he did so, he noticed the king had long since departed.
Then the rain began to fall.
Jeroboam stood in the pillared court of Hadad the Edomite. Hadad was a large man, three hundred pounds of pure muscle and towering seven feet. Some thought he to be distantly related to the giants of the Philistines. He wore thick, black, chain mail armor and an ax strapped to his back. He sat in a throne forged from blackened steel. Next to him, in a throne, sat Rezon, ruler of Syria. He was a considerably smaller man, only six feet, but lean and also well muscled. His long blonde hair tumbled about his shoulders. A wicked looking scimitar hung from his side. Both men, powerful rulers of their peoples, looked at Jeroboam in the hall of the Edomites.
Hadad gestured to Rezon. “The king of Syria is my long time friend and ally. Often he comes to visit my court and I visit his. I thought it proper to invite him to our meeting in light of what you told me a few months ago.”
Jeroboam nodded and bowed before them both. “It is an honor to speak with both of you, my lords.”
Rezon drummed his skeletal fingers along the armrest of his throne. He gazed down on Jeroboam in disdain. “Hadad, why on earth did you invite a Hebrew to soil your court?”
Hadad gave a deep laugh and stroked his thick, copper colored beard. “I think you will find this Hebrew’s information rather pleasing.”
Rezon cocked an arrogant eyebrow. “Oh?”
Jeroboam nodded. “My lords, as I told Hadad a few months ago, if ever there was a time to challenge Israel, it is now.”
“Are you mad?” Rezon shouted. “King Solomon has grown stronger than the Egyptian and Chinese armies combined. Who would dare attack his kingdom?”
Jeroboam shook his head. “The king of Israel has grown weak. And a prophet has told me that I shall take away most of his tribes after he dies.”
“I care little for Hebrew prophets,” Rezon spat in disdain.
“Here him out,” Hadad urged.
“My lords,” Jeroboam said. “It was only recently that Solomon tried to kill me. I barely escaped with my life. He is filled with paranoia. Most evenings he is drunk as he madly sleeps with his hundreds of wives. Those women control him, blatantly defiling Jerusalem and Israel with their high places and idols.”
“Solomon the Hebrew king has allowed idols into his court?” Rezon asked in disbelief.
“Far worse,” Jeroboam said in disgust. “He has built high places to Molech and Chemosh in Mount Zion itself. He is weak, serving the women he married as if under a spell. He is also overconfident in his wealth and power. He believes himself invincible.”
Rezon cocked an eyebrow at Hadad. Hadad stroked his beard in thought. “It seems your king has become a fool.”
roboam nodded. “It is even as you say. Most no longer respect him. And my spies in the city have just informed me that the king barely saved his own life by crushing an ill conceived attempted coup. It is only a matter of time before another group of leaders try the same.”
Rezon took a deep breath. “Well, this is news indeed. But how do we know you are not merely a spy sent to mislead us into an impossible battle?”
Jeroboam raised his hands, palm upwards and knelt before the two pagan kings. “I am willing to swear an oath on Jerusalem itself that what I tell you is true.”
Rezon tapped his hand against his pursed lips. “I suppose not even a Hebrew would lie on his own precious Jerusalem, eh? Still, Solomon has been careful to conceal this from the eyes of the world, and now I know why. Your king has gone mad.”
Hadad smiled. “He is vulnerable, then.”
“Oh, yes, my lord,” Jeroboam rubbed his hands. “Very. He has grown weak, uncontrollable and he is easily manipulated. He uses most of his wealth to continue in his endless building projects and lavish upon his wives. His vigilance to his army and defenses, particularly on the outer edges of his kingdom, has grown weak. If there is a time to strike, it is now.”
Hadad shook his head. “He is still too powerful to strike with a full, open assault. Solomon may be a fool, but when he sees our armies amassing toward Jerusalem, he will awaken from his stupor.”
Rezon nodded. “Yes, but his outer defenses are weak. We could strike with small companies, guerilla strikes, fast and hard. We could destroy whole villages and cities on their northern and eastern borders.”
“Yes, and then invite all of Solomon’s army into our nations to destroy our capitols!”
Jeroboam shook his head. “No, no, King Rezon speaks truth. Solomon’s army has fallen into ill repair. Almost none of the men have ever fought in a battle, save for the time they destroyed the brief Caanite rebellion. He would be ill prepared to launch an attack into your own nations.”
“Yes,” Rezon agreed. “and if he does strike us, what would he accomplish? He will be on our terrain, fighting battles of our own choosing, and we can pick at his army. He will not be a threat.”
“You would serve to further weaken him, my lord,” Jeroboam said. “You would frustrate Solomon and his followers. You could provide the impetus for another rebellion among his court. You will create chaos and confusion. Most importantly . . . you will deplete his treasury.”
“Oh?” Both Rezon and Hadad asked at once.
Jeroboam nodded. “He will be so busy trying to defend his country from attacks and rebuilding his villages, he will deplete his supply of gold. He will not have the time nor the means to continue his navy shipments to and from Ophir. As his gold supply decreases, he will be forced to raise taxes across the land.”
Rezon smiled cruelly, his forefinger brushing his thin lips. “Yes. Yes, very good. And the more he is forced to raise taxes, the more unrest it will cause his people.”
“Solomon has lost much respect and popularity already because of his madness,” Jeroboam explained. “If he begins losing a war, failing to protect his subjects while at the same time raising their taxes while he lives in unprecedented wealth, he will--”
“Have a general insurrection on his hands,” Rezon finished. “Yes, very good, my young Hebrew. Very good. But, tell me, how is this to your advantage? What do you stand to gain by betraying your king?”
Jeroboam smiled. “It has already been decreed that after Solomon’s death, I shall take rule of ten tribes in Israel. If you both continue to cause this unrest among the peoples, it will be no hard thing to defy Solomon’s son. Rehoboam is weak, young and naive. He spends all his days in his palace of his Egyptian mother. No one will respect him except the most loyal to Solomon’s reign. It will make my job all the easier.”
“Interesting that you would enlist our aid to accomplish a purpose you say your god has already said he will bring about,” Rezon said, leaning back into his throne.
Jeroboam shrugged. “My laws command me to worship Him with all my mind. He expects me to use my own ingenuity to help accomplish His purposes.”
“Humph,” Hadad snorted. “sounds like a weak god to me.”
“Yes, my lords,” Jeroboam bowed again.
“Still, although I think you won’t gain much from this betrayal,” Rezon said, rising to his feet. “Hadad and I will certainly seize this opportunity to weaken Solomon. If, as you say, this shall lead to an internal civil war, perhaps Israel will no longer dominate the world any longer.”
Jeroboam bowed again. “Thank you my lords. What you speak is both wise and true,” he turned to leave.
“And Hebrew,” Rezon called. Jeroboam turned to face the Syrian king. “you may want to guard your own kingdom once you’ve carried out your little rebellion. After all, you might be vulnerable to our armies as well.”
Jeroboam frowned deeply before leaving the room. Rezon and Hadad gave each other a triumphant smile.
“What fools these Hebrews are,” Rezon said, shaking his head. “Their history has been marked with one victory followed by another defeat. Over and over again. They go back and forth. One king serves their god, the next one despises him. One wonders how they’ve lasted this long.”
Hadad shook his head. “One wonders indeed.”
Benaiah rode hard and fast into Jerusalem. A stinging rain beat down on the city, and flashes of lightning staccatoed the darkness. A sharp wind cut into Benaiah’s face. He was glad for his thick, red beard.
He thundered through the gates of the king’s court and galloped toward the stables. Inside the warmly lit, dry stables, he climbed off his mount and tied the horse to a post. He tore off his cloak, dribbling with water.
Joshua walked toward him from the far end of the stable.
“You’re back early!” Joshua said, taking the Captain’s wet cloak. “Did the scouting trip go well?”
Benaiah shook his head, his face stone. “I must speak with the king at once.”
Joshua saw the seriousness in Benaiah’s eyes. “Come with me.”
The two men headed back into the stormy night, across the courtyard and into the bright hall of the king’s court. Assigned by the king to scout the land and give him a report of the state of many of the cities, Benaiah had ridden hard and long for the past three months. Winter now lay across the land and the rains now prevented Benaiah from continuing. Just as well. With that Benaiah had seen not more than twelve hours ago, he knew he had to return to Jerusalem at once.
They walked through the hall and Benaiah felt his stomach knot. Lining the walls of the great hall, tall idols and statues dedicated to Baal, Molech and Chemosh towered above them. Although Benaiah had spoken briefly with Solomon about putting away his foreign wives and removing the idols shortly after the executions, it had become obvious the king had not paid any heed to his advice. Now, he wondered, if the king had sent him out only to keep him away while the king chose to continue his downward spiral into sin and death.
“How is the king?” Benaiah asked as the two men strode down the hall. As guards passed them, they saluted the captain and commander.
Joshua shook his head, his face downcast. “He is the same. He took Zeriah and Caleb’s betrayal hard. Rather than turning to the queen or Yah for solace, he has turned to his concubines and wives. He spends a great deal of time drunk and in his bed once more. I’ve tried to speak with him . . . but he is quick to anger these days.”
Benaiah shook his head. “Is he determined to destroy himself?”
Joshua led Benaiah down a side corridor and into the interior halls leading toward Solomon’s personal apartments and bedchambers.
“He was growing close to the queen shortly after you departed,” Joshua said. “But when Rebecca brought up the issue of his foreign wives, he told her to leave his court. She’s been in the palace ever since. I think she has lost all hope of him ever changing.”
Benaiah sighed. “No woman should have to endure what she has endured.”
They walked on in silence as they neared Solomon’s bedchamber door.
“Is he still alone?” Benaiah asked. He had no desire to enter if Solomon had any women with him.
“I think so,” Joshua said. “He likes to drink and read before having any women. I’ll wait here.”
Joshua saluted the guard at Solomon’s bedchamber door as the burly captain knocked. Solomon’s voice told him to enter. As Benaiah closed the door behind him, he saw the king seated in his favorite chair before the fire. He sipped some wine and gazed at the Captain.
“You have returned early,” the statement sounded more like an accusation than a surprise. Benaiah nodded.
“I have some terrible news, my lord. Something I witnessed on our northern border not twelve hours since.”
Solomon rose to his feet. “What is it?”
Benaiah swallowed. “Dan has been completely burned to the ground. All the women and children were dead and the men slaughtered. It looked as if most of the women had been raped.”
“What?” Solomon shouted. “Who would dare do such a thing?”
“It appears to be the Syrians and Edomites,” Benaiah answered. “They left a message carved on a tree near the border of the town. In crude Hebrew they warned Israel that they were going to strike terror across our northern and eastern borders.”
Solomon smacked his hands together. “Curse the Syrians and Edomites. Hadad and Rezon should know better than this. I want an army raised to crush them at once!”
Benaiah frowned. “My king, our army is not equipped or trained to launch an invasion of another country. Defense, yes, but not a full scale attack. Especially not of two nations at once.”
Solomon swore under his breath. “We cannot afford to let them know our armies are not ready! How long would it take to assemble an army for invasion?”
“At least six months, my lord,” Benaiah said. “And even then, we are unfamiliar with their terrain. Syria is covered in mountains and Edom contains a great deal of wooded hillsides. It would be extremely dangerous. We would suffer much loss.”
Solomon began to pace, his face furious. “We cannot just stand by while they burn down our villages and towns! Tell me our options, Benaiah.”
Benaiah sighed. He had already thought this all through. “We could assemble some strike companies and return the favor to their towns and villages. We could also guard all of our villages and towns along the borders. We could set up a firm defense.”
Solomon shook his head. “No, no. It is too little. They will sense our weakness and grow bold. No, we must strike hard and fast so that they withdraw completely.”
“But, my lord, we--”
Solomon raised a hand. “I want you to call up the reserves. Assemble an army of ten thousand of our best fighting men. You will lead them. I will accompany. We will march on Damascus itself and strike Syria so hard, they will never forget.”
“I highly advise against this, my king,” Benaiah warned. “We would lose many of our men and we would not be able to destroy Damascus. The best possible scenario is a stalemate, and even if we are able to inflict significant losses on Syria, we will still have Edom to deal with.”
“There is no other way!” Solomon hissed. “We cannot make ourselves look weak and vulnerable. Why is our army in such disrepair?”
“Because, my lord, all your wealth has gone to your wives and domestic projects. Very little money has gone to maintaining your army.”
“And why should it?” Solomon yelled. “My rule has been one of peace. That is what the Lord promised me! He promised. Why then do we have enemies stirred against us?”
“My lord and king,” Benaiah spoke softly, hoping to calm is angry friend. “The Lord has stirred up these enemies as judgment against you. It is as plain as day.”
Solomon shut his eyes. He shoulders slumped.
“King, please, repent of your wickedness. Put away your wives, remove the false idols that fill Jerusalem. If you turn back to the Creator, He will help you. Let Him destroy your enemies. It’s not too late.”
Solomon looked up at the captain, his face stricken with grief. “But it is too late, my dear Captain. It was long ago that the Lord departed from me. He will not return. Not if I offer ten thousand rams.”
“You are wrong, my king!” Benaiah said. He heard the desperation in his own voice. “He will turn back to you if you will but seek Him once again. Don’t give up. You can still save your kingdom. Please--”
Solomon shook his head. “Enough! I’ve heard all this before.”
“You must turn--”
“I have already set my course!” Solomon snapped. He quieted down. “It is too late for me, my dear Benaiah. Too late.”
Benaiah shook his head wordlessly.
“Go, do as I have commanded. I want an army assembled in one week. Then we shall teach our enemies what it means to attack Israel.”
