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The pillar of fire filled the bedroom once again. Solomon quickly slipped from his bed. Rebecca still slept soundly as the column of fire burned against the far bedroom wall.
He carefully approached the fire and dropped to one knee. “My Lord and king, your servant is here to listen.”
Solomon, dear Solomon. Your kingdom has grown great and your people terrible in strength. Your wisdom excels that of any man on earth. And yet I come to warn you.
“Warn me?” Solomon whispered.
Stay at my feet. Stay near to me. Even now, your soul stands on the edge of a knife. Keep your face toward me, seek me in all you do. Remember the wife of your youth. Stay at my feet.
Solomon nodded and bowed low, “Of course, my Lord. I will never leave you.”
Remember who I am and remember what I have done for you. Never a man was blessed like you, dear Solomon. Stay at my feet.
The column winked out of existence as quickly as it had come.
Solomon stood in the darkness, staring at the wall, his face concerned. He stood motionless for over an hour before returning to bed.
“Oh, Solomon, it is beautiful!” Rebecca breathed in awe as she embraced her husband.
Solomon, his thick, black beard now reaching to his belt, held his wife close as they both gazed from their bedroom balcony onto the house he had spent the past thirteen years building for the daughter of Pharaoh.
“You said it would be a miracle if I built you a house even more grand than the Temple.”
Rebecca laughed and kissed her husband. “I see a miracle!”
Rising adjacent to the king’s court, a domed palace made entirely of emerald and gold dwarfed the Temple beyond. Silver towers rose from the four corners, each joined by bridges of pure crystal high above the emerald dome, a network of glass that caught the sunlight in liquid gold.
“Thank you, my dear husband,” Rebecca kissed him long and hard. “It is more beautiful than I ever imagined.”
“Shall I give you the grand tour?” Solomon said, smiling.
“Absolutely!”
A knock at the door interrupted their laughter.
“Who is it?” Solomon sing-songed.
“Benaiah, my king.” The voice sounded from beyond the door.
Solomon rolled his eyes at Rebecca. “How many times do I have to tell him to simply call me Solomon?”
Rebecca giggled. “I’ll go downstairs. I’ll be waiting for that tour!”
She opened the door and departed, smiling at Benaiah as he entered. The captain of the guard slowly closed the door behind him. His red beard had the faintest touch of gray. His face looked dark and clouded.
“Care for a drink, dear Benaiah?” Solomon poured some red wine into a thin glass.
“No, your majesty. Not now.”
Solomon paused and frowned at his friend. “What’s wrong, old friend?”
Benaiah’s eyes looked red, smeared with tears. He took a deep, shaky breath. “Zadok. He died early this morning. In his sleep.”
Solomon dropped the glass. It shattered into a hundred pieces, the blood colored liquid seeping into the carpet. “Died?”
The two stood in silence. The High Priest had lived well past his years but none had expected him to pass so suddenly.
“They say he felt no pain,” Benaiah said softly.
Solomon gripped the side of the table before him. “We must make funeral plans at once. Has Nathan been informed?”
Benaiah lowered his head.
“Benaiah?”
Benaiah’s shoulders began to shake as he sobbed. “I’m afraid Nathan was killed last night. A wild horse trampled him to death. It was clearly an accident.”
Solomon dropped into his seat, his face pale. He stared at the table long and hard. Silence filled the room. The blood colored wine had spread into a broad puddle, staining the carpet.
“I will prepare a double funeral for them, my lord?” Benaiah said, using the formality to mask his grief.
Solomon squeezed his eyes shut and nodded. How could this happen? Nathan and Zadok both dead in the space of a few hours? Was a shadow finally falling on his rule?
He felt Benaiah’s strong hand pat his shoulder. “Solomon, do not blame yourself. We have enjoyed a lifetime of happiness and joy these past twenty four years. Sadness was bound to come sooner or later.”
Solomon felt himself losing control inside, as if slippery walls surrounded him as he desperately fought to keep from falling. He gripped the rough hand of his friend. “I want the funeral announced all across the land. These two men deserve no less.”
“Yes, my lord.”
And for once, Solomon did not rebuke his friend for addressing him as such.
Solomon watched with satisfaction as the craftsmen finished the last touches of the road leading up to Jerusalem. At long last the main road now shimmered in the afternoon soon, paved with pure obsidian. No more bumpy rides, Solomon thought smugly as he watched from the ramparts high above.
“Solomon, may I speak with you?” Benaiah approached, a frown on his face.
Solomon smiled and gestured toward the road. “Have you seen the new pavement? Truly stunning, is it not? Does any other city boast such a treasure?”
Benaiah scanned the road and shrugged. “It is beautiful, my lord.”
Solomon rolled his eyes. “Benaiah, I allowed you to call me that six months ago when Nathan and Zadok died. Please don’t tell me someone else precious has died.”
Benaiah shook his head. “Forgive me, Solomon. But I am troubled.”
“By what?”
“Not a what, a whom.”
“Then by whom?” Solomon started to feel annoyed.
“By you, sir,” Benaiah said flatly.
Solomon paused and gazed at his friend wordlessly. “I see. Troubled by me, eh? Perhaps we should discuss this over dinner?”
“I’d like to discuss it now, Solomon.”
Solomon could see the utter gravity in his friend’s eyes. He dismissed his irritation and smiled. “Of course! Have I not written that open rebuke is better than secret love? Walk with me.”
The two old friends began to slowly walk across the rampart. The sun was high and the sky cloudless, as Israelites hurried to and fro within the city below them.
“Why am I so troubling to you?”
Benaiah took a deep breath and then gestured angrily at the domed emerald house belonging to the Queen “Mainly it is because of that!”
Solomon stared at the house in confusion. “My wife’s house? What’s so troubling about that?”
“You don’t find it just a little odd that you spent a mere seven years building a house for your Creator, but nearly twice that time building a house for your wife? Look at the place, Solomon! It’s twice as big as the Temple, twice as lavish, twice as rich!”
Solomon’s face darkened as he stared at Benaiah.
“I’m troubled at your priorities, Solomon. Are you putting your wife above your Lord? Are you putting your wealth and riches above all else?”
“This is ridiculous!” Solomon snapped. “Because the Lord chooses to bless me with riches beyond any other ruler, you accuse me of misplaced priorities?”
Benaiah shook his head. “Solomon, I’m worried about you. I’ve known you all your life and I’ve watched you grow. But for the past several years you have spent all your time showing off your wealth as if it is your lover. I’ve not seen you write a poem or a proverb in months. And when was the last time you even traveled to the Temple to offer special sacrifices?”
Solomon shrugged. “You are being absurd, Benaiah. I’m far too busy to lose myself in fantasy pursuits of poems and proverbs. That was for a younger time. I’m busy--”
“Doing what? Planning your next palace? Your next project? Your next use of gold and silver? Are these things really so important that they take up all your time?”
Solomon paused and shook his head. “Benaiah, I appreciate your concern, but I’m afraid you are worked up over nothing. I still love my Lord just as much as I did twenty four years ago. Nothing has changed. But is it so wrong that I want to make Israel and Jerusalem the envy of all the other nations? Does not our Lord deserve this?”
“And how is our Lord glorified by building your wife a palace big enough for ten armies?”
Solomon felt a rush of righteous indignation. How could Benaiah criticize me for merely using the wealth I have been blessed with? Is it such a crime that I have been given so much? Why is my closest friend doing this? He bit his lip and tried to restrain his rising frustration. “What I choose and don’t choose to give my wife is entirely my business. Now, unless you have some sort of sin you want to accuse me of, I think we had better end this conversation.”
Benaiah nodded and sighed. “Very well. I’m just trying to look out for you, that’s all.”
Solomon nodded and smiled tightly. “I do have my own conscience, Benaiah. I don’t need two.”
And with that, Solomon spun around and left his friend staring at the emerald palace.
“You had no right to anger him like that!” Rebecca shouted at Benaiah. Her face felt flushed and hot with anger. The two of them stood in the royal gardens of Solomon’s palace. A large, newly installed silver fountain bubbled not five feet away.
“So you don’t think it’s odd that he spent almost twice the amount of time building a house for you as he did for his Lord?” Benaiah spoke softly, through gritted teeth.
“He wanted to impress me! It was something we spoke about long ago, almost as a joke when we dedicated the Temple.”
“Well, obviously your husband took it as more than a joke,” Benaiah carefully controlled his voice, keeping it soft.
“Solomon has been in a bad mood all week and it was all I could do to finally get him to admit why. He considers you his closest friend and you have to accuse him of . . . well, what are you accusing him of anyway?”
Benaiah threw up his hands. “I’m not accusing your husband of anything! I am just concerned for him, Rebecca! I’ve been his friend since he was a boy. Remember the evening your father requested to speak with me alone? He asked me to be your husband’s conscience because he understood what power can do to a man. I’m only keeping my word.”
“So you tell him he no longer loves his Lord?” Rebecca shouted, her face no longer red but white with rage.
“I never told him that!” Benaiah shouted back. He bit his lip and lowered his voice. “I simply told him that I’m concerned over his actions. And it’s not just the palace he built for you. You must see how he has changed. He spends all his time thinking about how to spend his wealth. It’s as if his whole life is consumed with his riches!”
Rebecca lifted her chin, her eyes dark with rage. “If you were so concerned about him spending thirteen years building me a palace, why is it only now you have chosen to tell him?”
Benaiah opened his mouth and then paused. Grief passed over his face. “I . . . I don’t know. I’ve been busy and . . . well, I suppose I kept trying to convince myself that Solomon was not changing for the worse . . .”
“The worse!” Rebecca shouted again. “I can’t believe as his friend you are saying these things.”
Benaiah lowered his head and spoke just above a whisper. “Rebecca, I have tried never to speak out of turn but to always be honest with you and your husband. I do not think Solomon is sinning, but I do believe, as with Cain of old, sin might be crouching at his door. What kind of friend would I be if I believed this to be so but did nothing to warn him? I can only do what I believe I should.”
Rebecca felt her own rage begin to drain. She slumped her shoulders and suddenly felt so tired. How could she be angry with Benaiah now? He’s obviously trying to do what he thinks is best. “I just don’t think you’re going about helping Solomon in the best way.”
The two stood in silence, listening to the bubbling of the fountain.
“I suppose,” Rebecca whispered. “that he has changed a little. Maybe I haven’t wanted to see it either, but I do miss the days he would spend writing proverbs and songs. It seems he has little interest in those things anymore.”
Benaiah lifted his eyebrows. “Dearest Queen, if you can see this, then there is hope for your husband. Your father told him long ago that he would need a wife to complete him, to make him whole. Even if he can’t see the danger he is in, if you can, then you can help him.”
Rebecca still felt angry but forced a smile. “I . . . I can’t promise anything, but I will do what I can. In the meantime, I would ask you to try and repair things between you and him.”
Benaiah bowed before the Queen. “I will do all I can as well.”
“Honey, I spoke with Benaiah this afternoon,” Rebecca said as she settled into bed next to Solomon, laying her head on his chest.
Solomon held her close. “Oh? Did you knock some sense into him?”
She paused for a moment as they both lay in the cool darkness.
“I was angry with him. And I let him know that. But I . . . I think I’ve begun to see what he was trying to do.”
“Oh?” Solomon cocked his head at his wife.
Rebecca looked up into the dark bearded face of her husband. “He does love you, Solomon. More than you can know. It’s just in his mind . . . he sees you . . . drifting.”
“Drifting?” Solomon whispered in bewilderment.
“He’s concerned that you’re losing sight of the very thing that has made you great.”
“And that is?”
“Your love for your Lord. Your humility.”
Solomon stiffened and drew back. “And are you in agreement with him?”
Rebecca paused again. Solomon jumped from his bed and began to pace the room.
“I see, now my closest friend has turned my wife against me as well!” Solomon felt that familiar righteous indignation rise in his chest. It’s not enough that Benaiah has to baselessly criticize me, now he has to turn my own wife against me!
“Solomon, stop it!” Rebecca shouted. “No one has turned anyone against you.”
Solomon stopped and stared at his wife. “Are you in agreement with him?”
Rebecca searched her thoughts. Well are you or aren’t you, Rebecca? “No, I’m not. But I do see why he believes what he believes. And I can see that his intentions are pure. I think you should try to make amends with him.”
Solomon sighed and returned to bed. Well, at least she has not been completely subverted by Benaiah’s nonsense. “He’s really put me in a foul mood.”
Rebecca gently stroked her husband’s beard. “I know, honey, but he does love you. Everything he told you was out of genuine concern. And even though I don’t fully agree with him, I suppose I’m a little concerned as well.”
Solomon shook his head and frowned. “Why? What is there to be concerned about? Is it because I don’t sit down like a fool and compose poems? It is because I happen to be a very busy king engaged in important matters of state and upgrading our capitol? What is it?”
“No, Solomon . . . it’s just . . . why do you think it foolish to compose poems?”
Solomon stared at his wife’s sincere look. He sighed angrily. “You’re changing the subject. I--”
“You’re the one who said it,” Rebecca said softly.
Solomon bit his tongue. “I spoke rashly. I just don’t see why you and Benaiah are so concerned. Over what?”
“I’m concerned that the immense responsibility of being king is weighing down on your heart, Solomon. Perhaps . . . perhaps you should take another vacation. We could go to Egypt or China for a few months?”
Solomon shook his head. “Absolutely not. I have shiploads of gold from Ophir due this week and I’m still behind schedule on the canal.”
Rebecca sighed and rested her head back on his chest. I’m not getting anywhere with him. “You may need to take a break soon, honey. It is important that you rest.”
“That’s what the Sabbath is for, dear,” Solomon said curtly, staring angrily into the darkness. I can’t believe Benaiah has done this to my own wife!
“Yes, dear,” Rebecca breathed sadly and fell into an uneasy sleep.
Solomon leafed through the papers in his study, his hair disheveled and bags under his eyes. Caleb, a newly appointed assistant, brought another armload of scrolls to the table.
“My king, there is something I should remind you of.”
Solomon continued searching through some papers. “Hmm? What is it?”
Caleb cleared his throat. “There is the little matter of payment for King Hiram. He helped you complete the canal last month and still has not received payment for his services.”
Solomon leafed through another page, murmuring. “I thought we gave him several thousand loads of wheat?”
Caleb’s eyes widened. “My lord, the wheat would hardly pay for the men he lost in the terrible accident during the canal’s construction. Over three hundred of Hiram’s workers died in the building accident. He says here you had promised to compensate him fully for the loss of his men. He has sent messengers three times in the last month asking when the payment will be made.”
Solomon threw the papers back and swore under his breath. “He’s such a cutthroat! Doesn’t he know how busy I am?”
“My lord, you did promise to pay him last month.”
Solomon sighed and nodded. “Yes. Yes, of course. So I did. Hiram was never one to wait long. Very well . . . go ahead and give him twenty Israelite cities.”
“Very good, my king,” Caleb bowed. “Perhaps along the coast?”
“Heavens no!” Solomon laughed. “Those are much too valuable. No, no . . . give him the suburbs in Galilee. Lord knows I don’t want them. That should satisfy him for the time being.”
“The cities of Galilee, my lord?” Caleb looked at Solomon in concern. “Are you sure, my lord?”
Solomon slammed his fist against the table. “Caleb, I really don’t have the time to be repeating every command I give you. Yes, I’m certain! And don’t look so worried. Knowing Hiram, he’ll never even go tour the cities, much less complain about them. Just tell the next messenger of his that arrives that the suburbs of Galilee are his to do with as he pleases.”
“Very good, my lord,” Caleb bowed low and backed away from the table.
“They are absolute slums!” Hiram roared as he threw mug of ale across the room. It crashed into the wall, spraying alcohol everywhere.
The Israelite servants ducked away in fear.
Hiram, his face a beet red, paced madly through his thickly rugged court. His hall was much smaller than Solomon’s, all rough hewn stone and bear skins, with shimmering battle axes and scimitars hanging from the walls and ceiling. Huge, bare chested mercenaries guarded the thick iron doors as the Israelite servants sent by Solomon cowered in fear.
“I want to speak with your captain! Bring me Benaiah!”
One of the servants, white-faced and trembling, stepped forward. “My lord, the captain is dealing with a dispute along the Egyptian border. It will take at least a week before he can come to Lebanon.”
“I don’t care!” Hiram roared. “I don’t care if it takes the rest of my life, get him here! And since when does Solomon send lowly servants to bear his gifts to me? Am I not even worthy of the captain of the guard?”
“We will bring him as soon as possible,” the servant promised.
“Ahhh, get out of here!” He roared. “All of you! And tell your king he can keep his lousy cities!”
Benaiah strode through the thick iron gates and into the intimate court of King Hiram. The pirate king sat in his wooden throne, his good leg over one arm rest, drinking from a large tankard of ale.
“King Hiram,” Benaiah bowed low before approaching.
Hiram smiled. “Good to see you, Captain Benaiah. And here in less than a week. Good you arrived today. You caught me in one of my better moods.”
Benaiah nodded. “When I heard of your summons I departed immediately. My servants only told me your were displeased with Solomon’s gift. What’s wrong?”
Hiram laughed, throwing back his head. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong? You must be ignorant of the generous gift your king gave me?”
Benaiah stared at Hiram in confusion. “I know he promised to compensate you for your men. I have been . . . rather out of the loop lately. The king and I are . . . well, we have been estranged for the last few weeks.”
“I see,” Hiram leveled his gaze at Benaiah and studied the Captain. “Well, your king gave me twenty ghetto slums in Galilee.”
Benaiah stared at Hiram in confusion. “My lord? He gave you the suburbs of Galilee?”
“Yes! And sent his lowest servants to give them to me, no less. Not even a hand written letter from him. Tell me, when did your grand king begin to treat his friends and allies with such politeness?”
Benaiah shook his head, unable to find the words to express himself. Surely this must be a mistake. Yes, Solomon had changed over the years, but to give slums in exchange for over three hundred men killed? Not even wicked King Saul would have done such a thing. Perhaps someone had misunderstood Solomon? And yet, with a slow, creeping horror, he began to realize a mistake probably had not been made.
“King Hiram, I deeply apologize for this miscommunication. I am certain someone misunderstood Solomon’s words and gave you the wrong gifts. I will travel immediately to Jerusalem and remedy the situation.”
Hiram’s scowl turned instantly into a grin. “You know, I like you Benaiah. You’ve always been true to your word and quick to find solutions. I wish I had men like you.” He grinned and limped toward the captain. “Very well. I suppose in a kingdom as large as Solomon’s, miscommunication is bound to happen. I just hope I don’t have to wait much longer for my compensation.”
Benaiah bowed low. “I will return with an answer personally within the week.”
Hiram roughly embraced Benaiah and nodded. “Very good. Give my best to your king. By the way, how is that canal working out for you?”
