Love’s Sacred Song (40 page)

“Now take one. Eat it,” Shimei said.

“No!” Solomon chuckled. “They’re not ripe.”

Shimei pointed at the cluster. “Look at them carefully, young prince. Some are ripe. Some are not.” Piercing Solomon with his gaze, he said, “As I have been given wisdom from Jehovah to work the vines, He gave you wisdom to create trade routes, peace agreements, and labor contracts through marriage to foreign brides. Choose to bed those wives as carefully as I tend the vines. Couple only with those who are ripe, giving them heirs, fulfilling their purpose and your responsibility.” He nodded at Arielah. “Though the lion of God came to you as a treaty bride, she’s become the apple of your eye, the beating of your heart. To your other wives you owe a debt, an oath, a promise. To Arielah, your gift from Jehovah, you owe your life.”

Solomon looked with renewed wonder at the cluster of grapes in his hand and then turned to his wife. “Your abba once told me that I couldn’t unlive my past, but I could choose my future carefully. I cannot unmarry the women in Abba’s harem or my own, but I can deal with them shrewdly.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks. “My love,” she said, her voice whispered awe. “I have always asked you to give me your whole heart, but because my experience has been in a Shulammite household, I wanted to be your only wife.” Pushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead, she said, “I realize now that you have signed treaties and agreements with nations, binding you in marriages with other women. I cannot expect you to break your oaths to them in order to keep a promise to me.” Glancing at Shimei, she winked and received a delighted laugh from the old vinedresser.

Solomon threw a grape at the old man. “Stop flirting with my wife!” he said, gaining another chuckle. Looking into Arielah’s eyes, he saw peace there. “It seems the vines have spoken to us both, beloved, teaching these lessons of love.”

“You need only signal your coach driver, and he’ll get word to me that we must rest awhile.” Solomon closed the door of their wedding carriage and offered a silent prayer.
Jehovah, keep Arielah strong for the long journeys ahead.
He’d seen her weakened by the three-day trip from Shunem to Baal Hamon, and he knew that the three-day return and then three days more to Jerusalem would exhaust her.
What else can we do?

“King Solomon!” Reu’s anxious shout interrupted the king’s fretting. “May I have a word with you before we leave for Shunem?” He looked as if he’d swallowed a bad fig. Pale and puckered, Jehoshaphat’s aide marched toward the coach with purpose.

Sighing deeply, Solomon could think of nothing he’d like less than debating a bitter young man. “Of course, Reu.” He motioned to a private area near the sheepfolds.

Once they were away from curious eyes and ears, Reu began in a controlled voice. “First, my lord, let me thank you for your kind offer.”

“Before you go any further . . .” Solomon held up his hand, interrupting the young man. “I’m thankful Jehoshaphat explained Arielah’s and my desire to help pay for Hannah’s bride price, but since we’ve visited Baal Hamon, I have a second offer for you to consider.” Solomon noticed crimson splotches forming on Reu’s neck but assumed he was overcome with gratitude. “I’d like you to consider returning to Baal Hamon and becoming Shimei’s apprentice.”

“My lord, I—”

Again Solomon stopped Reu’s reply. “Please, let me explain. Shimei is a dear friend, and I see him growing weak. He loves the vines and would enjoy having a young man like yourself to train to love them as he does. I know you’ve been learning to tend the vines with Igal in Jehoshaphat’s vineyards.”

Reu simply nodded, his eyes round and filling with tears.

“Good. Good.” Solomon laid a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “So is that a yes, then? Will you accept the mohar for Hannah and return to Baal Hamon to begin your life here with her?” He smiled. “After a proper betrothal period, of course.”

The splotches on Reu’s neck had grown into a deep crimson, more the color of ripened grapes. “Why?” he asked.

“What?”

He shrugged off Solomon’s hand, fire lighting his eyes. “Why would you do all this? I mean, I know why a man like Jehoshaphat would do it—he has integrity and character.” He sputtered as if sorry for the misspeak but not repentant. “What I mean is . . . well, why would you offer to pay the groom’s mohar for your wife’s own serving maid? And why on earth would you offer to make me the caretaker of Baal Hamon, the most beautiful and productive vineyard in Israel, when I’ve never tended vines in my life?” His breath escaped in short, angry spurts.

Solomon allowed a little silence to cushion his words. “Reu, I’m offering to pay Hannah’s bride price because Arielah has told me of the love she’s witnessed between you two, and I want to reward you for the friendship you showed Arielah in Jerusalem—when I betrayed her.” Reu’s eyes flamed, and Solomon knew. “That’s what this is really about, isn’t it? I know you feel like a part of their family, Reu, but even Igal has forgiven me.” Solomon waited for his reply but heard nothing except the bleating of sheep and the restless sounds of the waiting caravan. “You don’t have to forgive me, but you should still take the mohar for Hannah’s sake. It’s your only hope for the life of love you desire with her.”

Solomon took a step to go, but Reu touched his arm. “I want to hate you for what you did to Arielah, but the love I see in Jehoshaphat’s family is too big to let any of us hold on to the past.” Before Solomon could respond, Reu knelt and bowed before him. “My lord, I choose to forgive you, and I ask you to forgive me for speaking to you so harshly.”

Solomon placed his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Thank you, my friend. And yes, you are forgiven as well.”

When the king lifted his hand, Reu grasped it and placed his forehead on the back of it. “May I ask one more favor?”

“Ask it, Reu.”

He looked up, and the words came out in a flurry. “Will you serve as friend of the bridegroom and negotiate with Hannah’s abba on my behalf?” He stopped as if unable to believe he’d said it. His final words were spoken with an impish grin. “I believe Hannah and her abba will agree, but it wouldn’t hurt to have the king of Israel negotiate for me.”

•
 Song of Solomon 8:1, 6 
•

[Beloved] If only you were to me like a brother . . . I would kiss you, and no one would despise me. . . . Place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm.

A
rielah watched Mount Moreh grow larger in the window, and a tangle of emotions knotted inside her. “Thank you for our visit to Baal Hamon,” she said as their wedding carriage jostled toward Shunem. “And you were right. I love old Shimei.”

The coach dipped into a rut, but she barely noticed, cuddled against Solomon’s strong chest. Hannah had begged to ride a camel alongside Reu for the final leg of their journey, and Arielah was thankful that Solomon had joined her in the coach. They would linger one night in Shunem and be on their way to Jerusalem at dawn. She needed to be near him now.

“Solomon?”

He didn’t respond, just drew her tighter. She could feel his breathing grow ragged, his chest heave in uneven gasps.

A lump formed in Arielah’s throat. “What are you thinking?” she asked. It seemed both their hearts had become weighted as they crossed the Jezreel plain.

Solomon drew a ragged breath. “I know I must be king in Jerusalem, and I know we have determined a plan by which I can fulfill my obligations to the other wives but still guard my heart for you alone.” He paused, sighed, and then laid his cheek on top of her head. “But now my concern is guarding you from further attacks from the Sons of Judah. I pray Benaiah brings us good news of plentiful witnesses when he arrives with our escort.”

She felt tears wet her hair. He lifted his head. She looked up, and he kissed the curve of her neck. Neither spoke again. They kissed away each other’s tears.

When Arielah glanced out the window again, she saw Benaiah waiting at Shunem’s southern gate. “It appears we’ll hear news of witnesses sooner than we realized, my love.” Pointing toward the window, she saw panic in Solomon’s eyes.

Seventy-three, seventy-four, seventy-five.
Solomon counted the royal guards waiting at Shunem’s gates. Why would Benaiah bring so many guards? Unless . . .

Arielah scooted closer to the window. “Why did Benaiah bring so many men?” she asked. “You came to Shunem with only ten guards.”

Determined to remain calm, he leaned over and kissed her again. “Because there are bandits in the wilderness, beloved. And now I carry my greatest treasure in her wedding carriage.” She smiled, and her wide, innocent eyes pierced him. She had no idea how much loving her had changed him. Perhaps Benaiah brought the large company of guards as a show of power, a deterrent for random bandits.
Jehovah, let it be so. I pray it’s simple bandits, and not to guard against an enemy so bold they would attack on our way to Jerusalem.

Their carriage halted by Shunem’s gate, and as usual a crowd gathered to greet the royal guests. Benaiah was first to meet them, opening the carriage door like a concerned ima. “Are you all right? Did you run into any trouble?”

Solomon smiled, refusing to borrow trouble. “Hello, Commander. It’s nice to see you too.” The comment won a grin from the big man.

Jehoshaphat had already dismounted his camel and led his wife to the carriage. “I believe we have an anxious ima here to greet her daughter.” Solomon stepped out of the carriage, lifted Arielah into his arms, and placed her feet on Shunem’s soil.

“Shalom, my lamb,” Ima Jehosheba said as she wrapped her daughter in loving arms.

Arielah closed her eyes, receiving comfort like a parched desert wanderer’s first drink. “Shalom, Ima. It’s good to be home.”

While Igal and Reu led the rest of the caravan to Jehoshaphat’s barns, Benaiah’s expression turned grim. “My king,” he said, lowering his voice for only Solomon and Jehoshaphat to hear, “the news is not good from Jerusalem.”

Solomon’s heart fell to his toes.

Exchanging a glance with Jehoshaphat, Benaiah confirmed the king’s worst fears. “I could find no second witness to corroborate Oliab’s testimony against the Daughters of Jerusalem.” Looking over his shoulder, he said, “Please, both of you, follow me to the meadow where we can talk in private.”

Solomon’s heart pounded with every step. The silence of the three men’s march was broken only by the swoosh of their sandals through Shunem’s green grass. When they reached a cluster of fir trees, Benaiah resumed his story. “Plenty of women in the harem would testify that they heard Shiphrah and Sherah bribe the palace guards to ignore Arielah when she ventured into the city unescorted.” Turning to Jehoshaphat, he lifted his hands, pleading. “I had no idea the Daughters of Jerusalem held sway over watchmen in the city, my friend.” His eyes swam with tears. “Abishag even testified that she heard the guards speak of the plan to beat Arielah, and I’ve used every means possible to
persuade
the harem guards to talk, but—” A sob robbed his speech. He shook his head.

“All right, my friend,” Jehoshaphat said, placing his hand on the commander’s shoulder. “Have you announced a general plea to the public, asking for a witness to come forward?”

Anger seemed to fuel his tears as much as his remorse did. “I even tried knocking on doors, asking individual men, heads of their households. But the whole city fears retribution from the Sons of Judah. And Shiphrah or Sherah seem to wield the power. One word from them, and traitors are beaten or their homes are burned. I’ve never seen men so committed to a cause. It’s infuriating!”

“They’re not protecting a cause,” Solomon said flatly, and both men’s brows furrowed in question. “The guards. They’re not protecting a cause. Men wouldn’t endure Benaiah’s torture for a simple cause.” He watched as understanding dawned on their features. “These men are protecting Shiphrah and Sherah because the Daughters of Jerusalem have become the idols of Judah’s worship.” He scratched his beard, and a thought began to take root and grow. “You said the harem guards talked openly about their bribes?”

“Yes,” Benaiah said, hope seeming to calm his frustration. “And from your foreign wives’ reports, the Daughters of Jerusalem paid the guards outside the harem gate.”

A slow, determined smile creased Solomon’s lips. He began a victorious nod.

“Have you thought of a way to let a woman’s testimony stand in your court?” Jehoshaphat asked.

“But you can’t have your wives testify,” Benaiah said, his frustration returning. “Though I’d like nothing more, your council members would never support your ruling if you allowed females to testify.” He grew quiet. “I’m sorry, Solomon. I’ve tried every method I know to get those harem guards to talk. They simply will not testify against the Daughters of Jerusalem.”

The king reached out to touch his commander’s shoulder. “You have served me well, Benaiah. I know you have done everything humanly possible to find a witness. But with
Jehovah’s
help, there is a way.” He winked at both men, bent to pick a wildflower for his wife, and left them staring. Twirling the flower between his fingers, he whistled and returned to the city with a lighter step.
Thank You, Jehovah
, he prayed silently.
Your wisdom is truly amazing.

As the royal caravan reached Jerusalem’s gates, the midday sun glinted off trumpets, their joyful blast announcing Israel’s returning king. Arielah’s heart pounded wildly at the sound. Every sight, sound, and smell of this city reminded her of the beating, and panic began to set in as well-wishers crowded around the coach to welcome home their king and his treaty bride.

“Beloved.” Solomon’s rich, deep voice intruded on her fear, and she realized her eyes were closed. When she opened them, his loving gaze held her. Leaving his side of the coach, he snuggled beside her, gathering her close. “When you entered these gates the first time, you had to fight the battles alone. Now we will fight them together.”

Resting in his nearness, she said, “Yes, but I’m tired of fighting, my love.”

He kissed her forehead and asked, “Do you not have one happy memory in Jerusalem?”

The thought intrigued her. She turned to face him and smiled, and a memory came immediately. “This may not be what you were hoping for, but during my very first journey to Jerusalem, Kemmuel and Igal were young and playful, not old enough to show their jealousy. The three of us danced and skipped through the streets of Jerusalem.” She let a little mischief leak out. “If only you were like a brother to me,” she said, twirling a stray lock of his hair, “I could love you and kiss your cheek and no one would care. Perhaps we wouldn’t have all these battles.”

Solomon captured her hand, kissed it, and then brushed her cheek with his lips. “If I were your brother, we wouldn’t be enjoying this wedding carriage.”

Arielah smiled, and she tried to console herself with the plan Solomon had confided to her during their last night in Shunem. Surely this time the Daughters of Jerusalem would be exposed. But what about the Sons of Judah? Would their conspiracy dissolve when Shiphrah and Sherah were condemned? Jerusalem seemed to be a fox chasing its own tail, a constantly boiling pot.

She sighed deeply, and he lifted her chin to search her eyes. “If you were my brother,” she said, “we could have stayed at my ima’s house. We could learn more of love before it was tested again so soon.” Seeing the pain in his eyes, she prayed for strength and lightened her tone. When he turned away, she caught his chin and recaptured his gaze. “I would give you my spiced wine and the nectar of my pomegranates.”

He kissed her soundly. “Mmm, I love your spiced wine and pomegranates.”

She tried to grin, tried so hard to hide her mounting anxiety, but a sudden rush of tears defeated her.

“Oh, beloved,” he said, hugging her tightly. “What? Are you this frightened? I’ll have a hundred Cherethite and Pelethite guards outside our door every moment.”

“Our door?” she squeaked, sounding utterly pitiful.

He was silent for a long moment, stroking her cheek. “You can move back into the bridal chamber if you like, but I must have a place to be with the other wives.” He paused. “Are we not agreed?”

Again she fought for control and for the reasonable facts she needed to accept—for her peace and Solomon’s integrity. “I understand that as a man of honor, you must be a king to your other wives.” She sniffed back tears. “But it is still difficult for me to think of you lying in another woman’s arms—even when I know I possess your heart.”

She felt the rise and fall of his chest, a deep sigh. “Indeed, you have my heart, beloved. You and you alone.” Grasping her shoulders, he pulled her away in order to search her gaze. “How can I assure you of my love, that it is faithful and true? How can I remind myself?” His eyes welled with tears, and his voice broke. “I don’t want to fail you again. I don’t want to allow my heart to wander, so I need your help. How can we protect our love in Jerusalem?”

Arielah’s heart ached at his sincerity. He looked so vulnerable, like a young soldier preparing for his first battle. Reaching up to push that stubborn lock of hair from his forehead, she let her hand brush his cheek and his neck, then rest on the slight impression at the base of his throat.

He reached up, cradled her crooked hand, and squeezed it too tightly. She winced.

“Oh, beloved, I’m sorry.” His face looked stricken as it always did when he saw the lingering effects of her beating.

In that awkward moment of pain and pleasure, she realized how to portray their love. “Solomon!” The excitement in her voice must have confused him. She reached for the leather cord he wore around his neck, and he looked as if he might call a guard to protect him. Giggling now, she lifted the metal bauble suspended on the cord, pulling it from beneath his robe. He watched her with rapt interest, his brow furrowed, his grin intrigued.

“Is this the seal you press into wax on official documents?” she asked. Already knowing the answer, she kissed his cheek as a silent request for his patience.

“Yes . . .” He smiled, evidently a willing student.

She rolled the decorative cylinder between her fingers. “Just as you press this symbol of ownership into beeswax, so I want you to place me like a seal on your heart.”

“Ah,” he said softly and returned a quick kiss. “A very apt comparison.”