It was light, bursts of light radiating from the door of the temple so brilliant it blinded them so that they hid their faces and fell to the ground. The God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, the God of their beloved King David had come down and they had all seen His glory as it filled the temple.
It had happened once again after Solomon had offered his prayer of dedication and the priests had prepared the altar for the great sacrifice. Actual fire had burst forth upon the sacrifice and at the same time the shekinah glory had flooded out of the temple so that they all fell to their faces again and worshiped.
Jeroboam reached for his clothes. He had determined he would not go to see Tipti as he had planned. Just remembering all that had taken place at the temple’s dedication had sobered him. Tipti would never understand that the Lord God Jehovah was not like her cat god that could be manipulated and used. He was real and powerful and they had all seen that it was Jerusalem He had chosen for His dwelling place.
He knew Tipti would be very disappointed. She had built all her hopes around him and the possibility of his becoming king. At the thought of trying to explain all of this to her, he found his stomach knotting and his mouth dry with dread. Tomorrow at the latest he must tell her the result of his trip to Shiloh.
The next day when Jeroboam arrived for work at Tipti’s palace, he was relieved to find she wasn’t there. She’d gone down to her quarters at Gezer and was expected back sometime late in the afternoon. Jeroboam was now so familiar with her schedule that he knew just why she had gone. It sobered him considerably, making him even more reluctant to tell her the bad news from Shiloh.
She went to this old pagan city her brother, the pharaoh, had given as her dowry because there she could secretly receive messengers from Egypt. It was always the same: she either sent a message or received one every fortnight. Most of the time it was by runners, but if there was some urgency, she had whole cages of trained pigeons she could send.
In this way she advised her brother of Solomon’s activities and in return received the pharaoh’s instructions and advice. Now that there was a major plot forming against Solomon, it was doubly important for them to exchange information.
On this afternoon she was disturbed by the message from her brother. It seemed that the queen of Sheba had given no real commitment to the Egyptian ambassador. In fact, she had talked more of an investigative visit to Solomon than an invasion. “Everything depends on Hadad in Edom,” the message read. “When the queen visits him, he must convince her to join the rest of us in marching against Israel. If this fails I will need to depend on you to convince her with cunning appeals.”
Tipti brushed back the twined black hair of her wig and read the report again. Then she ordered all of her maidservants from the room. She needed to be alone to think. She walked out onto her balcony and looked eastward toward the road that wound up to Jerusalem. The foothills were covered with olive and fig trees, and low stone walls bordered the terraces. It was a pleasant sight, but she noticed none of this. Her mind was racing ahead to ponder her ambitions for Jeroboam in the light of this new information.
She felt sure the queen of Sheba would join in the coalition once she understood the advantages. Surely Hadad, the charming, persuasive Hadad, would make her change her mind. However, if none of these measures worked, she would have to make other plans to bring Jeroboam to the throne. It would take much longer; perhaps even waiting until after the death of Solomon. If she succeeded, the wait would have been worth it. With Jeroboam on the throne of Israel, Israel would virtually be an extension of Egypt. At least a strong ally.
Tipti frowned. Right now all of her plans for Jeroboam depended on the advice of some ancient old priest at a deserted shrine in a small Ephraimite village called Shiloh. This was something she hadn’t counted on. Jeroboam had never seemed very religious. She must find a way to rid him of this weakness.
She had never understood Solomon’s devotion to his unseen God. She only knew that it had taken every bit of her ingenuity to pry him loose from its rigid rules. It was through the king’s curiosity she had won a foothold, but with Jeroboam there was no curiosity, only ambition. She pondered how best to proceed. This religion had some mysterious hold on him. She didn’t like it. “I must find a way to break down, root out, get rid of this strange fixation he has. Imagine telling me he was going to get advice from one of those old priests.”
She shuddered at the thought then wondered if Jeroboam was still in Shiloh or had already returned. With a determined step and toss of her head she went through the beaded curtain that closed off the balcony from the small private garden. “Run,” she ordered the old man who was tending the tuberoses, “tell my maidens I’m ready to go. We must leave for Jerusalem at once.”
Back in her own palace in Jerusalem, Tipti asked for Jeroboam and found to her alarm that he had gone to the temple for evening prayer. Solomon had not called for her, but the report was that he had been seen more with his son Rehoboam of late. All of this was unsettling. It was unthinkable that Naamah’s magic could be working so well. Undoubtedly her own cat god Bastet was still angry that she hadn’t managed to have the priest that killed her cat beheaded. She’d have to make some sacrifice that would please her cat god and make him forget the terrible affront to his dignity.
In the meantime, she paced nervously back and forth beside her lily pond while her serving maids peeped anxiously through the gauze curtains. When the queen was in such an angry mood, none of them wanted to risk her displeasure. She could be so charming when things went well, but when angry she was entirely capable of having them whipped or even sent back to Egypt for execution.
Looking around and seeing that the courtyard was empty, Tipti picked up the gold-handled mallet and hit a resounding blow on the large oval brass gong. Instantly her serving men and women came running and stood with ashen faces just inside the west portico. “I’ll be entertaining this evening here beside the lily pool.” Her words were clipped and her eyes flashed as though giving a command.
As her servants hurried away in all directions to carry out her wishes, she motioned for her chief steward. “Go quickly to the southern gate of the temple and find Jeroboam. Tell him I wish to see him immediately about important matters.”
Jeroboam was surprised that Tipti had known where to find him. He was even more surprised to find that she had prepared a feast fit for Solomon, but he himself was to be the only guest. Though he knew that to sit and eat with one of the queens alone like this was considered a terrible affront to the king and could be punished by death, he was flattered. He quickly dismissed all such thoughts from his mind as he sat down on the cushion beside her.
He knew Tipti was curious to know the result of his trip, but he found himself reluctant to tell her the discouraging news. Finally it was Tipti who brought up the subject. “My son,” she had taken to calling him this lately, “I have had some disturbing news from Egypt. It seems that the queen of Sheba is not yet committed to join the coalition.” She paused, waiting to see what effect this would have on Jeroboam.
Jeroboam shifted uneasily under her gaze. “I wish I could bring you some good news, but mine is also discouraging.”
“The priest was not in favor of our plan?” Tipti’s voice was honey sweet, but her eyes flashed dangerously.
“He was most discouraging.”
“And what reason did he give?” Her voice was still sweet, but her mouth was rigid and stiff.
“He pointed out that both the tribes of Judah and Benjamin would go with David’s tribe even if they didn’t like Rehoboam.”
“And …”
“They would hold Jerusalem and the temple. People would still come to worship and trade on the feast days in Jerusalem and I would have nothing to offer them that was as grand.”
Tipti threw back her head and laughed a hard, brittle laugh. “Is that the only problem? We can easily remedy that.”
“I don’t understand.” Jeroboam was astounded. He had expected her to
be as discouraged as he was.
“My son,” she said lightly touching his arm with the tips of her jeweled fingers. “The God who dwells in Solomon’s temple isn’t very attractive to most people. In Egypt, given a choice, no one would choose to worship such a god.”
“But …”
“No, no, don’t say anything until I explain. This God your people worship does nothing for the farmer who wants rain or the young man who wants sex and love or the wife who wants a charm against her husband’s new love. Your God fills none of the needs of ordinary people. Now if you brought up from Egypt the golden calf once worshiped by your people …”
Jeroboam was horrified at the suggestion. “That was the great sin of my people. The golden calf was evil.”
“That’s what you were told by your priests. In Egypt the Apis or Mnevis bull is even more powerful than Bastet or Mihos. In his temples they have dancing girls and lovely festivals where a magic potion made from a grain called ergot releases the worshiper from all his inhibitions, and only enjoyment is important.”
“But in Israel all of this is a great sin and wouldn’t be accepted.”
Tipti held some large dried dates on a golden plate. Now she picked up one with her own jeweled fingers and laughing held it up to Jeroboam’s mouth. “Is all pleasure then a sin here in Israel?”
Blushing at such familiarity he bit into the date and almost choked. “We take pleasure within limits. It’s forbidden to use the plant ergot or worship idols,” he stammered.
Tipti licked the stickiness of the dates from her fingers. “Why should it not be possible to give your people the advantage of worshiping both the God of Israel and the Apis bull? And as for the ergot, it grows with the rye quite naturally. It gives such lovely dreams and visions. One becomes like a god. Had you thought of that?”
“How could I convince the people?”
“You say your God created everything, but you worship him in a very narrow fashion. How much better it would be if you let the Apis bull represent also your God Jehovah. Then plant the ergot so your priests will have visions and …”
Jeroboam was horrified at the suggestion. He didn’t know what was really wrong with it. He just knew the worship of the golden calf in the wilderness had been one of the greatest sins Israel ever committed. The ergot was dangerous too. Some pagan priests had died after taking too much.
Tipti saw the look of horror on his face and quickly brought up her most convincing argument. “My lord Solomon has permitted a shrine for the bull on Olivet along with shrines to other foreign gods. He has even secretly taken the ergot and found it to bring most pleasant dreams. He sees no harm in it at all.”
Just as she had thought, Jeroboam was impressed.
“You think then that I need not worry about the loss of Jerusalem.”
“Of course not. Let the tribes of Judah and Benjamin keep their harsh God and gaudy temple if it comes to that. You can give the people something easier to understand and enjoy.”
“What about the coalition? If the queen of Sheba doesn’t join, what will happen then?”
“Then our plans will have to wait. But hopefully this won’t happen. It’s to her advantage to join with Egypt and Egypt’s friends against Solomon.”
Jeroboam sat thinking of all she had said and trying to piece together the various aspects of her plan. Tipti seemed to be preoccupied with sipping from her goblet of choice wine, but all the time she was watching him to determine his reaction to what she had said. She noted that while at first he had been resistant to many of her suggestions, now he seemed thoughtful and accepting. “It’s just a matter of time,” she thought, “and he’ll agree with me completely.”
Both Tipti and Jeroboam had been so engrossed in their conversation that neither had noticed that one of the serving women who seemed most anxious to be helpful was also listening to everything that was said. This woman, though dark haired and dressed exactly like the other Egyptian handmaidens, was actually a Hebrew and a gift from Solomon’s mother, Bathsheba. She had not heard everything, but she had heard enough to gather that a plot was afoot to place Jeroboam on the throne either by deposing Solomon or waiting to edge out Rehoboam, the heir. She began to devise a plan whereby she could see Bathsheba and warn her of the alliance between Tipti and Jeroboam and the plans they were making.
When Bathsheba heard of Jeroboam’s visit to the Egyptian princess, she was upset. But when she learned that he had been served dinner alone as though he were Solomon himself, she was furious. She dropped the balls of wool she was carding and struggled to her feet. “Solomon must know this at once. The punishment is death for such an affront to the crown.”
“My queen.” The young maid was on her knees clutching the hem of Bathsheba’s robe. “There is more. I’ve only told you the circumstance not the news.”
Bathsheba turned and looked at the girl in alarm. “News, what news could you possibly have that is worse than what you’ve already told me?”
“My queen, the Egyptian has plans to put Jeroboam on the throne of Israel as her son and heir.”
At this disturbing revelation Bathsheba drew the young maid aside and plied her with questions until she knew all that had taken place in Tipti’s palace. “I must go to the king at once,” she said as she nodded dismissal to the maid and summoned her crown and royal robes to be brought.
Solomon was in the Hall of Judgment sitting on his golden throne with the lion armrests when he heard that his mother was on her way to see him. As her palanquin arrived at the entrance to the great hall, he sent six of his pages to escort her up to the throne.
He watched with keen curiosity as one of the young men pulled aside the curtains and helped Bathsheba to alight. He was surprised to see how very frail she was. With some effort she climbed the six marble steps. Though she stood straight, her head high, and had the same proud demeanor he had always admired, she was still leaning more heavily than usual on her gold-handled cane.
His throne was built low and wide and made comfortable with tasseled cushions. Most of the time he sat in the oriental fashion with his legs crossed. Now he made room for his mother beside him, ordering more cushions and a footrest to make sure she would be comfortable. Then knowing she had some important message, he ordered his pages, trumpeters, and counselors to move away from the throne.
“So, what disaster has brought you out in this hurry?” he asked with a twinkle in his eye.
Bathsheba fretted at the gauze mantle, smoothed her long sleeves, and looked around to see if it was safe to talk. “My son,” she said anxiously, “you must not take this lightly.”
Solomon smiled, he was tempted to laugh. His mother always wanted to make sure even before she said anything that there would be the proper reception. “You know that I always take your words seriously,” he said.
“You remember I told you of the serving girl I had placed in the Egyptian’s service.”
He was amused. She never deigned to call Tipti by her name. She was always “the Egyptian.”
“Yes, of course,” he said, “I remember. Has she brought some interesting tidbits for us to mull over?”
“Not tidbits, my son. Treason and treachery is more the name for it.”
Solomon was suddenly serious. “Treason! Who is involved in this treason as you call it?”
“It will be hard for you to believe, but it is none other than your man Jeroboam. Tipti has dared to entertain him alone for dinner.”
Solomon’s countenance clouded and his jeweled right hand, gripped his scepter so hard the veins stood out on his hand, but his voice was steady and controlled. “I should have him flogged and publicly beheaded.”
Bathsheba turned pale. “It’s what he well deserves. But your wife Tipti is the real culprit. How could a humble workman like Jeroboam refuse the queen? No, no, it’s plain to me that Tipti is the one to be flogged and sent home in disgrace.”
“What was the occasion for this dinner?” Solomon asked with an apparent calm de
meanor. Only his eyes, hard and penetrating, told a different story. “Did the maiden also know that?”
“Yes, yes. She told me everything, and it is a sorry tale full of treasonous plots and ambitious designs. It seems that the Egyptian has plans for this upstart, Jeroboam, to usurp your throne after your defeat by the coalition.”
Solomon didn’t answer right away, but his agitation was evident by the way he pushed back his crown and pulled at his short beard. He seemed to be struggling to take in all the aspects of this startling news. When he finally spoke, his words were clipped and had a bitter edge to them. “So the plans are that complete. I must say I’m surprised. I wouldn’t have thought either Tipti or Jeroboam could be so treacherous.”
“There seems to be one problem. They must have the queen of Sheba’s backing if the plan is to succeed.”
“They aren’t sure of her?”
“They don’t seem to be. She evidently hasn’t committed herself yet.”
“Aha, then there is a good chance their plans can be foiled.”
“You can have Tipti exposed, sent back to Egypt, and Jeroboam executed.”
“Mother!” Solomon said feigning shock. “Tipti’s valuable. Now she’s probably even more valuable than ever.”
“I don’t understand. She has an Egyptian knife pointed at your throat.”
“I’m amazed that you don’t see how it works.”
“I see all too well how it works.”
“No, no, mother. You don’t understand. Now that I know for sure that Tipti repeats everything to her brother in Egypt, all we have to do is give her false information to report. That is the better revenge. To outwit the enemy is far sweeter than to have him flogged.”
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