|
|||||||
|
|
|
|||||
|
|
|||||||
Solomon sat in the Judgment Hall, his face unreadable. The huge hall forged from solid granite by David looked more like a vast cavern than a hall of the king’s court. Large, jagged pillars dotted the vast room, supporting the arched, rough hewn ceiling. Footfalls echoed in the silent chamber, and even whispers could be heard anywhere in the room. It was the place of judgment, a place the searching light of truth exposed all hidden secrets, all carefully masked sins.
Solomon waited on his stone throne, anger rising in his chest, heating his face. Both fists sat clenched on the huge stone backs of lions, lions of granite forming the armrests of the throne. Flickering torches lined the walls and ceilings, casting the cavernous hall in a hellish, shifting light.
Solomon listened to the vast silence of the judgment hall, staring into the darkness of the hall beyond the torch light. He heard the echoing footfalls long before Benaiah emerged into the light. He held the end of a chain in one fist. Behind the tall, red bearded soldier, the thin, frail form of Adonijah stumbled behind, the chain wrapped around his hands, jerking him forward.
Benaiah’s face betrayed none of his thoughts as he marched toward the bottom most step leading up to Solomon’s throne. Adonijah, shivering and cold, his long hair damp against his pale neck, peered up at his brother with fear and malice.
“Do you know why you are summoned here?” Solomon spoke in a low voice, but it boomed through the hall.
Adonijah winced and shivered. “I know you are a power hungry tyrant who cares nothing for his family!” His words sounded bold, but his voice betrayed his terror.
Benaiah drew back his fist to strike Adonijah but Solomon raised one hand. Benaiah let his hand fall to his side.
“You speak with much hatred, brother. Why do you hate me so?”
Adonijah lowered his face, refusing to answer.
Solomon’s dark eyes bore into his brother. “Do you love Abishag?”
Again silence.
Adonijah lifted his face and his features softened. “I love her very much.”
Solomon nodded and stroked his dark beard. Though he was still young, his beard had thickened considerably since his father’s death and now reached down to his chest. “And what of her sister? Do you love her as well? Many say her sister is more fair.”
Adonijah shook his head. “I care not for her sister. I love Abishag and Abishag only. Her sister means nothing to me, brother.”
Solomon rose from his throne, his voice a hiss. “Interesting that you love Abishag so much and yet you do not even know that she has no sister!”
Adonijah stared at his brother in confusion and then dread. He shook his face, his skin a ghostly white. “You . . . is that all-- you trick me?”
Solomon’s eyes turned to fire. “I test you, Adonijah. I test your heart. But it is apparent you know nothing of the king’s virgin. Let me propose an alternative.”
With a nod from Solomon, Benaiah's thick hand forced Adonijah to his knees. Solomon walked down two of the steps, towering over his brother.
“I think you wanted to see if my mother could get you the king’s virgin. I think if you had succeeded, you would have continued to manipulate my mother to give you more power, more gifts from the king. You would have done so until you had gained my very throne. You thought I worshipped my mother. You were wrong.”
Adonijah’s lips trembled. “Please, my broth--my king, it was not I who did this. Joab counseled me to go to your mother. I was against the whole plan but he forced--”
“He forced?” Solomon boomed. “Even now, you refuse to take responsibility for your own sin?”
Adonijah lowered his face.
“Look at me, coward!”
Benaiah grabbed Adonijah’s chin and forced his face up.
“You have betrayed me for the last time. You are no brother. You are a devil. And a devil’s end is what you shall have.”
Benaiah grabbed Adonijah’s arms and forced him to his feet. He stared sullenly at Solomon, his eyes filled with hatred. “You know nothing, Solomon! You’re a fool just like your mother! Just like our father!”
Solomon lifted his left hand. With one, smooth motion, Benaiah slid his blade from its sheath, swung it back in a short arc and cut Adonijah’s head clean off.
His head spun through the air and rolled onto the floor. The body staggered back onto the ground. Solomon and Benaiah both stared at the head, its face still covered in a hate filled scowl.
“Filled with malice to the very end,” Benaiah whispered as he wiped a cloth on his blood soaked blade and sheathed the weapon.
Solomon simply stared at his dead brother, a lone tear trickling down his face.
Solomon, Benaiah on his right, strode swiftly across the massive courtyard toward the Tabernacle of David. Storm clouds filled the sky and streaks of lightning pierced the afternoon air. The thunder only served to further Solomon’s blackened mood.
Abiathar, the High Priest, emerged from the Tabernacle of David just as the king and his best friend approached.
Abiathar smiled nervously. “My king and his trusted servant! What an unexpected surprise.”
Abiathar reached forward to embrace Solomon. As he did so, Solomon remained stone still, not returning the embrace. Abiathar pretended not to notice as he stepped back.
“You have come to watch some of the offerings perhaps? The New Moon begins this evening and--”
Solomon lifted one hand. Benaiah tightened his hand on the pommel of his sword. Abiathar fell silent.
“My judgment for you has waited too long, Abiathar.”
“My lord?” Abiathar raised his eyebrows, his eyes flitting to Solomon then back to the sword.
“You tried to enthrone my brother when my father was still alive. Most would call that treason.”
Abiathar’s face turned white. His eyes shifted from Benaiah to Solomon.
“You know the Torah as well as I do, priest. Once your ephod is torn, your right to High Priest becomes forfeit.”
In a flash, Benaiah, as if waiting for the cue, grabbed Abiathar’s tunic and ripped it forward. The ephod tore as the strong muscled man threw the garment to the floor.
Abiathar shrieked. “What are you doing?”
Solomon nodded as Benaiah drew his sword and pressed the tip against the priest’s neck.
“I never want to see you in Jerusalem again. You are no longer a High Priest of Israel. If I ever see you again, I will have you killed.”
Abiathar swallowed hard, the malice in his eyes burning far more than Adonijah had ever mustered. Leaving his torn ephod in the dust, he gathered his robes, and left the court.
Those who lived in Jerusalem never saw Abiathar again.
Joab’s chariot crashed into the town of Gibeon, thundering across the muddy road. Rain poured like hail, causing man and beast to seek shelter in homes and barns. The chariot rushed through the mud, heading directly toward the Tabernacle of Moses.
Jonathan, the son of Abiathar, sat next to the burly captain in the chariot.
“My father has been banished and they say Adonijah is dead. Solomon is on the war path,” Jonathan shouted over the din of the rain and rumble of the chariot. Though he had said the same words hours before, he repeated them as if somehow it might change the situation.
Joab clenched his fists, his eyes red with lack of sleep, matching his fire-colored beard. Abiathar had dispatched his son to warn Joab last night. Joab, patrolling the border of Egypt, had saddled his chariot and made his way across the Israelite countryside toward Gibeon as fast as his war horses could trudge through the rain-soaked land.
They had finally reached the city and now were only minutes from their final destination. Joab was angry and tired, but most of all he was scared. Would Solomon really seek to judge him as he had judged Adonijah and Abiathar? Would Solomon truly seek to banish or even execute him? Probably not, but he had never been one for gambling with his life.
When David was still alive Joab knew he had nothing to fear from Solomon. But now, with that pitiful Adonijah probably exposing the whole plan Joab had conceived . . . no, he could not afford to risk what Solomon might do.
The chariot suddenly stopped and the hard pelting of rain knocked like thousands of little knuckles against the chariot. Jonathan forced open the door and stumbled out into the mud and rain. Joab tightened his red cloak around his shoulders and followed Abiathar’s son.
The rain and wind hit Joab full force. The water stung his face. He hunched his shoulders into the rain and felt his boots sink into the mud. The Tabernacle of Moses rose in the mist before him.
Here he could find refuge. Here he could remain until this little crisis blew over. David had threatened many times to punish him for his murders but had never found the will to carry it out. Solomon was a mere shadow of his father; the boy king would give up when he learned of Joab’s location.
The thick muscled captain of the guard shoved Jonathan aside as he hurried into the outer courtyard of the Tabernacle.
Through the rain he could see the brazen altar rising before him. He grabbed both horns of the altar, his feet spread, muttering curses and prayers, hoping the rain would stop before long.
Jonathan shrieked behind him. Joab looked over his shoulder and saw a tall man shove Jonathan to the ground as he marched toward the altar. Solomon? No, he looked too mature, too muscled to be the boy king . . .
Benaiah emerged from the rain, mud and gloom, his red beard soaked, his face covered in dirt, his sharp eyes like bits of ice. His thick hand rested on the pommel of his sword.
“Joab? The king has summoned you to the Hall of Judgment. You are to appear before him this evening.”
Joab shook his head and laughed. “I don’t think so, Benaiah. Don’t be a fool. I’m here to seek protection. If Solomon wants to judge me, he can judge me here at the altar.”
Benaiah’s eyes flashed. “You would dare disobey a direct order from your king?”
Joab scowled. Benaiah was a fool. He had always wanted Benaiah to join his army, for he would make a good soldier. But Benaiah had always loved Solomon and had chosen a different path. Still, Benaiah feared few people and Joab knew his own authority challenged the tall man but little.
“He’s not my king, Benaiah. My king died months ago. Solomon is a boy. He knows nothing. Should the greatest nation on earth be ruled by such a one?”
Benaiah stood stone still in the rain. He simply stared at Joab in silence.
“You could join me, Benaiah. We could overthrow Solomon together, lead this nation as Yah would have it to be led; with power and strength. We could destroy what enemies remain of Israel. You could have much more power than what you have now, my friend.”
Benaiah shook his head and laughed. “You are the true fool, Joab. David was right. You’ve always been a murderer at heart.”
And with that he turned around and disappeared into the mist. Joab smirked and turned back toward the altar. Just as he thought. Solomon would never dare touch him as long as he held the horns of the altar.
“He will not come, my king,” Benaiah said as he bowed before Solomon.
Solomon shook his head. “Benaiah, don’t call me king. You, of all people, are my dearest friend. You, at least, can call me Solomon. It will keep me humble.”
Benaiah smiled and rose to his feet. “Thank you, Solomon.”
The king stroked his black beard and sighed. “Very well. I hate to do this, but I must keep my word to my father. Cut him down at the altar. And then throw his body out into the wilderness to rot. I want everyone to know what happens to those who carry murder in their hearts. No matter how high a position they may have in the kingdom.”
Benaiah bowed again. He then embraced his friend. “You are growing wise beyond your years, Solomon. Your father would be proud.”
Solomon smiled weakly. “So far it seems my rule has been as blood-soaked as my father’s.”
Benaiah shook his head. “The Lord is removing your enemies before your first year is complete. He is preparing great things for you.”
Benaiah kissed Solomon’s cheek before departing.
Benaiah returned to the Tabernacle of Moses late the next day. The weather had broken, and the sun now hung low in the sky, long afternoon shadows lengthening across the countryside.
Joab’s burly body still faced the altar.
Benaiah offered a prayer to his Creator before walking toward his enemy. Oh, Yah, please help me do what you have commanded me.
Joab turned toward Benaiah, a look of surprise on his face. “Returned with your king?”
Benaiah drew free his sword. “The king does not come to you, Joab. You go to the king.”
Joab stared at the blade nervously. “Put that away, you fool! You know killing a human is forbidden in the Tabernacle!”
Benaiah smiled grimly. “Indeed. That is why it is a pity it must be done.”
With catlike reflexes, Benaiah lunged forward, his blade stabbing Joab’s back, piercing right through his chest.
Joab gasped, his face filled with shock and fury. Blood bubbled from his mouth. Benaiah withdrew the sword as the well muscled captain of the guard crumpled before the altar.
Several priests rushed to the fallen captain of the guard.
“Take his body outside the city. Throw it into the wilderness. Clean this place up.” Benaiah sheathed his weapon and silently left the tabernacle.
Shimei stood in the Judgment Hall, so frightened he could not help but shiver uncontrollably. Shimei had never been a brave man. He stood about five feet, a bare face, tiny brown eyes, lanky, long brown hair. His high cheekbones and chiseled features might have looked noble on someone else, on him it simply looked ridiculous. He mopped his forehead with a linen kerchief and shifted from one foot to another.
Benaiah stood just behind Shimei as Solomon examined a thick scroll, yellowed with age. Finally the king sighed, and placed the scroll in his lap, lifting his gaze toward Shimei.
“You cursed my father several years ago. Do you deny this?”
Shimei shook his head. “I do not. But your father--”
“My father is dead.” Solomon cut him off. “And you cursed a righteous man. You deserve death.”
Shimei swallowed and bit his lip. He felt dizzy.
Solomon sighed again. “I will not plunge my rule into blood. It was for that very reason my father was unable to build a Temple for the Lord. Too much blood has been spilt under my rule already.”
The shivering man nodded in hasty agreement.
“I am ordering you under house arrest. You will never pass over the Kidron River. You shall never leave Jerusalem. If you do, you will die. Understood?”
Shimei nodded. “Yes, my lord. Absolutely. I will remain in Jerusalem as your humble servant.”
Solomon nodded and rose from his throne. “Good. I can see you are not much of a man. Still, I see a chance for redemption in you, Shimei. You are certainly no hater like my brother, or a murderer like Joab. Still, your impulsive nature will lead you to death if you do not learn self control.”
“You speak wisely, my lord.” Shimei bowed his face to the floor.
“I am going to put you in charge of the Tribe of Benjamin. You will have plenty of responsibilities leading that tribe to occupy you for the rest of your life. It will be your job to lead the Benjamites into prosperity and productiveness. Prove yourself to me, Shimei. Learn leadership. Prove to me that you have changed.”
Shimei nodded.
“Now, go.”
Benaiah, captain of the guard, walked the ramparts of Jerusalem. The sun, a blazing orb in the western sky, lit the evening clouds with gold, pink and purple. He smiled as he watched another day begin in Israel, for the Hebrew day began with the setting of the sun. The Psalm of David echoed in his mind: Thy loving kindness in the morning, and thy faithfulness every night
Benaiah wiped away a tear from one eye. Three years had passed since David’s death and still he felt sad when he thought of the brave king. Three years had now passed of Solomon’s reign, and his reputation for understanding and discernment had spread far and wide. For three years, Benaiah had helped Solomon consolidate his power, both domestically and internationally. For three years, he had helped secure the lands David had fought to gain in bloody battle after bloody battle.
And now, three years into Solomon’s reign, his kingdom stretched from the Nile River in Egypt all the way toward the Euphrates river in the east. Those lands on their borders, at first intimidated by Solomon’s huge kingdom, gave treasures and obeisance to Solomon every month. Many had even grown to love the boy king, as each day he grew more and more into a man, reminding them of brave King David.
Three years . . . Benaiah smiled and chuckled. Truly Solomon appeared the greatest king ever to sit on the Throne of Israel. What an honor and privilege to see his long time friend grow into such a powerful and wise leader.
“Captain!” It was Joshua, the young soldier who once guarded the king’s bedchamber but now had reached a commanding position in the army, a brave lieutenant under Benaiah’s rule. The young man, his beard still thin and straggly, rushed up the steps to meet his captain.
“Hail, Joshua! What’s wrong?”
“It’s Shimei. He’s gone.”
Benaiah stared at Joshua in confusion. He blinked, trying to remember the name. Oh, yes! Shimei! The leader of the Tribe of Benjamin. “Gone?”
“Yes, he left this morning. Apparently two of his servants ran away. Shimei left Jerusalem to go find them.”
Benaiah swore and shook his head. “The fool! Does he not fear the king? Solomon strictly forbade him from leaving.”
“Apparently the servants cost him half his fortune to acquire. His wife tried to warn him, but he wouldn’t listen. I suppose he thought he could leave and return with no one the wiser.”
Benaiah nodded. “I want him brought to the King’s Court as soon as he returns.”
Joshua saluted and raced back down the steps.
Solomon picked some luscious grapes from the wooden lattice arching over the inner courtyard. He stood in a beautiful garden, one of three he had planted within the court in the past year. He wanted Jerusalem to look green and festive. What better way to accomplish this then to create lavish gardens before the king’s palaces?
Benaiah followed the king as he picked grapes from the lattice.
“He departed this morning. He will be brought here immediately.”
Solomon chewed the grapes and spit out the seeds, enjoying the sweet juice. “I can see the poor man did not learn self control. I’m curious though, why did his servants run away?”
“I think you can ask him yourself, my lord.” Joshua approached the two. Shimei hurried behind the young soldier, dressed in flowing purple robes. Shimei bore an air of pride and arrogance that he had not carried when last he stood before Solomon in the Judgment Hall three years ago.
“My lord and king, I can explain everything at once. You see--”
Solomon lifted a hand, chewing some grapes. “Why did your servants run away, Shimei?”
Shimei paused and frowned. “How should I know? They are lazy and wicked. I--”
“Are they now?” Solomon rolled a grape between his thumb and index finger. He looked at Shimei. “Strange. Servants do not usually run away if they are well treated.”
“From what they say, my lord, they were beaten and severely mistreated,” Joshua spoke.
Shimei angrily stared at Joshua. “This young soldier speaks out of turn! I can assure you that I have--”
“Shimei, let me ask you a more important question. Why did you disobey my command?”
Shimei smiled nervously and lifted his hands. “My lord and king, I paid much for these slaves. I knew where they had fled and knew I could return them safely before the day was even out. Surely it has not been a violation to simply fetch what was mine and return quickly? I remain here in Jerusalem as your humble servant. Nothing has changed that.”
“Yet, you did not come to me first to ask permission to leave? You simply disobeyed my command and thought nothing of it?”
Shimei shook his head. “My lord and king, I would have asked you immediately had it been convenient for--”
“Convenient?” Solomon’s eyes flashed. “Convenient? And when is not convenient to obey your king?”
Shimei began to tremble as he backed away. Joshua grabbed his arm and forced him to stop.
“I gave you a chance to prove yourself, Shimei. To find redemption as our Lord gives to all who are pure of heart. But you have grown more careless, evil and arrogant. I told you what would happen if you ever passed over the Kidron, did I not?”
Shimei nodded helplessly, his eyes wide with fear.
Solomon sighed and turned toward Benaiah. “I hope this is the last blood shed under my rule. Take him out to the hanging wall. Hang him and leave his body up until Sabbath. I want everyone to see what happens to a man who does not learn obedience and self control.”
Benaiah nodded. Joshua forced Shimei forward as they followed the captain of the guard out of the garden.
“Please, my lord! Do not do this wicked thing! I will never leave again! I promise you!”
But Solomon turned back toward his palace, hating the tears that stung his eyes.
“You need a rest, Solomon,” Benaiah said, patting the young king on the shoulders. Sabbath had begun, and the two close friends stood in his bed chamber, sipping drinks before the last of the burning embers of his fire. Torah forbade any Israelite from kindling fire on Sabbath, and so the two men enjoyed the last of the warmth from the dying flames.
“Maybe you’re right, Benaiah. I feel tired already.”
“You’ve had a good three years, but it has been all work--”
“And bloodshed,” Solomon spat out in disgust.
“Yes, there has been bloodshed,” Benaiah conceded. “But you had no choice. The people respect you, Solomon. And more than that -- they love you.”
Solomon sipped from his mug and settled into his leather chair. “I think we should take a trip to Egypt.”
Benaiah smiled and nodded. “Sounds wonderful. Egypt would get your mind off things. You could take a vacation. The Pharaoh would love to see you.”
“I have heard they have designed a chariot made completely of crystal. That would make a nice ride, don’t you think?” Solomon’s eyes sparkled.
Benaiah nodded. “I think it would.”
