She paced the floor deciding first on one strategy and then another but each time finding them inadequate.
She clapped her hands for the maid. She was ready to retire. Now she could rest knowing that everything was almost in place to bring about the defeat of Tipti.
The maiden came, and at the same moment another idea, both vengeful and malicious, dawned upon Naamah. While she waited to see Solomon, this evil trick would be most amusing. Impulsively she snatched up one of the baskets harboring her most dangerous snake and handed it to the girl. “Here,” she said, “take this to my chief eunuch and tell him to be sure it is delivered into the hands of the Egyptian queen with my compliments.”
As she settled down for the night she had to stifle a laugh. She hadn’t laughed in years, but she laughed now. Everything was going her way at last. Hopefully by morning the news would come that the Egyptian was dead.
When Yasmit found the potion from the apothecary’s shop was of no effect, she devised another plan. It would cost a few pieces of her better jewelry, but it would be worth it. She was desperate. She had to do something, and this was her last chance.
She waited until Badget was off on another trip before trying to implement her scheme. She planned everything carefully. Terra must notice no change in the usual schedule and none of the servants must get suspicious.
When the morning finally came she rose early, lifted the loose tile in the floor of the storeroom, and reached down for a sandalwood box containing her most precious jewels. She pulled out necklaces and earrings, bracelets and hairpieces. Each item suddenly seemed too precious to waste on such a venture. One after another she put them back in the box, keeping out one silver necklace and a gold ring she had never worn.
She tied the jewelry in a small scarf and then slipped it into a deep pocket in her wide sleeve. She closed the lid of the box and put it back in its hiding place. She made her appearance in the courtyard just as Terra was coming out of her room.
She noticed with envy that Terra was already beginning to show evidence of the child she expected. She wanted to hate Terra, cut her down, make her life miserable, make her feel as bad as she herself felt, but Terra was too sweet, too trusting.
Terra came to her smiling, and gently led her to the shade of a grape arbor. “You are probably feeling nauseous,” she said. “I’ll have them bring you some nice fresh bread and barley gruel.”
“Nauseous?” Yasmit asked.
“I’m just getting to where I feel a bit better now,” Terra said. “It’s always that way at the first.” Yasmit began to understand that Terra was talking about her supposed pregnancy. It dawned on her that she would have to learn all the symptoms if she was serious about carrying this deception to its conclusion.
“I have felt faint,” she said accepting the bread and earthen pot of gruel.
As soon as possible she excused herself saying she had to go again to the apothecary for more herbs. No one noticed that unlike her usual trips to the various shops she took no servant with her but went alone and seemed to be in a great hurry. Yasmit knew well the neighborhood she was heading for. She was familiar with every twist of the lane, each door that led into the cramped courtyards, and most of all the smell. It was not only the smell of grime, dirt, and unwashed children but the bitter smell of souring milk and aging cheese.
She had grown up in abject poverty and she hated the necessity of setting foot in this old section of the city. It was in the southwest corner not far from the Dung Gate and was called the section of the cheese makers. The odor proclaimed the occupation long before one reached the crumbling walls and moldering courtyards.
Yasmit’s younger sister lived here as the second wife of the son of one of the cheese makers. She had eight children and was now pregnant with the ninth. She had wept when she realized that it would mean one more mouth to feed, one more child to crowd into the room she and her husband shared with the rest of their children. Yasmit had already broached a solution, but her sister had assured her that her husband wouldn’t agree.
Now Yasmit was desperate and ready to implement any plan or strategy. The facts were evident, she needed a child and her sister had too many. The answer was simple. She would go with her sister to visit a distant relative and when they returned, the child would be hers. With enough gold all this could be accomplished without too much objection from the rest of her sister’s family.
She let the wooden knocker down with a dull thud and then pulled the latch and let herself into the courtyard. Almost at once she was surrounded by a swarm of children. Several chewed on rounds of bread, but others looked hungry. They were all barefooted and wore scanty, moth-eaten tunics. The smaller ones wore no clothes at all and were covered with flies. Their hair was stiff with dirt.
Yasmit pulled the end of her mantle up over her nose. “Where’s your mother?” she demanded sharply of one little boy as she pulled her skirt out of his grubby hand.
Several of the older children disappeared and returned with Yasmit’s younger sister. Yasmit was shocked. It had been some time since she had last seen her sister, and she looked old and tired. She wore no kohl around her eyes or henna on her hands and feet and her hair fell loose under her mantle. There was no jewelry, and it was obvious to Yasmit that though the cheese business was good, it couldn’t support adequately the needs of two wives and all these children, let alone the other brothers and their wives. She was at first appalled and then encouraged. Surely her sister would give up this child she carried for the jewelry she had brought.
There were at least five rooms around the courtyard. Yasmit knew that each of the brothers had a room for their wives and children and there was one room for the parents. The men slept on the roof in good weather and in bad, moved into the small storeroom which was also on the roof.
Yasmit followed her sister into her dismal room. She noticed the sleeping mats were neatly piled along the wall, and in the various niches there seemed to be a few articles of clothing. “You know why I have come,” she said as she rejected her sister’s offer of a mat to sit on and bread fresh from the outdoor oven.
“Yes, I know. I’ve been expecting you. Those potions from the apothecary seldom seem to work.”
Yasmit ignored her remark and got right to the point. “Will your husband let you give up the child?”
“I must tell you truthfully. He doesn’t want to agree, but he said that if you offered enough, I was to take it.”
“And you, what about you, how do you feel?”
“You’re my sister. Since I was a little girl I’ve always given you whatever you wanted.”
“Then you’ll agree.”
“Just satisfy my husband and the child is yours.”
Yasmit was ecstatic. “You must tell me everything. All the signs. I will have to appear to be pregnant.”
“First, you have to remember not to take to your bed with the monthly flow.”
“That’s easy. I was past that a year ago. What else.”
“At times you must appear nauseated, have strange yearnings for certain foods, and feel weak and exhausted.”
“All of that is easy.”
“But how will you appear to be getting larger?”
For a moment Yasmit looked puzzled. She looked down as her hands flew to her stomach and she compared her size to that of her sister. “Don’t worry, I will manage. Perhaps my garment maker can be of some help.”
“Don’t trust her. You can’t trust anyone.”
“You’re right. I’ll think of something.” She was about to turn toward the door when her sister reminded her.
“Nothing can be agreed on without my husband’s consent.” She held out her hand and Yasmit reached into the pocket of her sleeve and pulled out the bit of cloth holding the jewelry and untied it. She put the necklace into her sister’s hand.
It was not enough. She added the ring. “Will this convince him?” she asked.
“He’s very greedy. He thinks all the time of when his sons
grow up and support him so he doesn’t have to work. He thinks this will be another son and is very reluctant to give him up.”
Yasmit hesitated. Her sister was gentle and sweet but the husband was a different matter. He was known to be a sharp bargainer. Quickly Yasmit took off three of her gold bracelets and then added her golden earrings. “Tell him I have given you even my own personal jewelry and that is all I have.”
She could see that her sister was pleased. She waited while she stuffed the small treasure in one of the empty clay honey jars on a shelf and then went out into the courtyard. The odor of cheese and urine mixed with that of poverty and filth was almost stifling. She hurried to the gate, said a quick goodbye, and then breathed a sigh of relief as she heard the big wooden door close behind her.
She paused only a moment. “I must not lose Badget,” she thought. “Without him I’d be right back here crowded into a corner of that ugly room. I must make this succeed.” With that decided she hurried up the crooked, narrow streets to her own front door.
It would be easy to fool Badget, and Terra was too sweet to even imagine such plotting. As she figured it now, she and Terra would both have a child at the same time. What good fortune it would be if Terra’s turned out to be a girl and hers was a boy. Then she would not only be the first wife in name but in fact. Everything would be like it used to be before he married Terra.
In the palace Naamah was growing impatient. She had tried every way she knew to gain an audience with the king. She knew he wanted nothing to do with her. He wouldn’t accept her messengers nor would he send any sort of answer. Finally, in desperation, she devised a plan. If it worked she would be able at least to tell him of Jeroboam’s plot and Tipti’s treachery.
There was no time to waste. That same evening Naamah sought out the chief eunuch and demanded to see the record of the women called by the king within the past month. Glancing at the scroll, she saw that Solomon was calling certain ones quite regularly. “Who is the one he calls most often?” she asked.
“A princess from Sidon. She plays the kinnor and sings,” the eunuch said.
Naamah thanked him and then pressed into his hand a pure gold necklace with Egyptian workmanship. “The next time he calls her, I wish to take her place.”
“But …” the eunuch stammered in fright.
“Don’t worry. I have news for the king he must hear. He’ll have forgotten all about the girl when he hears what I have to tell him.”
The eunuch looked again at the necklace lying in his hand. Even if he were dismissed, he could live a lifetime in quiet luxury with what this would bring. His hand closed on it, and Naamah, satisfied that he would do his part, went back to her apartments to wait for the summons.
It came sooner than she had expected, and there was no time to think of changing her clothes or fussing over her hair. She would have to go just as she was. She felt a slight twinge of anxiety at tricking the king, but when he heard the news, surely she would be forgiven.
She called for her ointment of jasmine. She had heard it was a favorite with the the young woman from Sidon. She had her maidens rummage in her chest of clothes until they found her wedding mantle all embroidered with gold and small pearls. She squeezed her feet into the jeweled sandals she had worn as a bride and last of all she called for a harp to be carried by her maid. At first glance, with only the alabaster lamps for light, she hoped the king would mistake her for the maiden from Sidon.
Just as she was ready to leave, one of her maidens came running to tell her the favorite from Sidon had fainted and then went into hysterics upon hearing that someone else was taking her place. Naamah stiffened. “Just be sure she gets no message to the king until I’ve seen him first.”
With that she took the scepter from the eunuch and followed him up the stairs to the king’s pavilion on the roof.
As the curtains parted she saw Solomon sitting with Rehoboam, Nathan, and a few of the tribesmen. She waited in the shadows until they were dismissed and then she took the harp from her maid and stepped inside letting the curtained covering of the door drop down behind her. She saw him smile, but it was a sad, remote smile compared to the joyful smile she remembered. For the first time since she had devised the plan she was fearful.
Straightening her shoulders and stiffening her resolve, she came forward and knelt with her face hidden in the deep folds of her mantle. She held the scepter out to him and felt him take it in one hand and then reach for her hand. “Come, my lovely Sidonian,” he said. “I have forgotten your name but not your music or your other charms.”
Naamah let him help her to stand and then she threw back her mantle. She saw him draw back with horror and aversion. He let her hand drop and was about to call the guards when she stopped him. “My lord,” she said, “the Sidonian will come, but first I must tell you there is treachery afoot in the palace and neither you nor our son Rehoboam is safe.”
Solomon was hesitant and cautious. “Treachery! What treachery can be worse than the treachery you are mixing most of the time?”
“My lord, don’t make light of this. I love my son and will not see him bested.”
“Yes, yes, it is true you do love your son.”
“Now listen carefully. There’s a plot to put Jeroboam on the throne either with the success of the coalition against you or after your death. You know this. You also know the plot originated with the Egyptian.”
“Yes, yes,” Solomon said waving his hand in impatience. “All of that has been told me. Is there anything new? That’s all I care to hear.”
Naamah knew she had to hurry or he’d not hear her through. “My lord, I’ve been to visit the Egyptian.”
Solomon spun around and looked at her with utter disbelief registering in his eyes. “You what?”
“Visited the Egyptian and …”
“Why should you do that?”
“Wait, I’ll tell you. I went to explain to her how futile it was to back Jeroboam since he hadn’t been anointed by a priest or chosen by Israel’s God.”
“And …”
“She told me he had been both chosen and anointed. The priest at Shiloh, Ahijah, came clear to Jerusalem to announce to Jeroboam himself that he would be king over ten tribes.”
Solomon’s whole demeanor changed. He sank down among the cushions of his throne, his head in his hands. Suddenly her words broke through his despair. “Ten tribes,” he said. “There are twelve. What of the other two?”
“One is the priestly tribe and the other is Judah. Judah and Jerusalem are all this liar says will be left for Rehoboam. Of course, you must kill the plotters immediately. Even your God can’t save a man with a sword thrust through his heart.”
“Are you sure the priest actually said Jeroboam would be king?”
“Quite sure. As the Egyptian told the story, this priest actually tore his garment into eleven pieces and gave ten of them to Jeroboam. I saw the pieces. I counted them. There were ten.”
Solomon’s face had turned deadly pale. He was remembering the encounter he had experienced in the temple. He had been searching ever since for the man that God would choose over him and his son. “So it is the upstart Jeroboam,” he muttered.
“And the Egyptian. They are together in this,” Naamah added.
“Ah, the Egyptian. That woman I’ve sold my soul and all Jerusalem to have.” His laugh was bitter and cynical.
“Get rid of her. Have her exposed and beheaded.”
“You have obviously forgotten she is a queen, a sister of the pharaoh.”
“Then send her home in disgrace.” As Naamah spat out her resentment Solomon was deep in thought. He didn’t even notice that she had backed from his presence and slipped out through the curtains. She had accomplished what she had come for and now it was up to him to act.
Solomon mulled over every aspect of the situation. He dissected each word spoken to him in the temple and every revelation of Jeroboam’s duplicity. Actually it was within his right to have the man killed for di
ning with his queen. He wondered now how often it had happened and how much could be explained by Tipti’s wanting a son to compete with Naamah.
He thought of calling Jeroboam in and talking to him. What would they have to say to each other? Things had gone too far. Even the priest at Shiloh had spoken, and Solomon didn’t doubt it was God’s word that he spoke. It had the same ring to it as the message he had heard in the temple.
He finally determined that he could not deal harshly with Tipti. He must instead try to win her back. No doubt she was resenting all the other women that were taking up his time and crowding her out. He could ease things over with her, but Jeroboam had to go.
He would put out an order to have Jeroboam killed. Surely both Tipti and Jeroboam himself could expect nothing less. It would be punishment enough for Tipti to have her favorite removed. As to his being God’s man, chosen to rule Israel, well, it was God’s business somehow to protect him and it was Solomon’s business to have him removed.
With that settled in his mind he called in Beniah, captain of his house guards, and ordered him to do away with Jeroboam as soon as possible. “The man has been plotting to join our enemies and take over the kingdom.”
No sooner had Beniah left than Solomon began to think of what was likely to happen next. He always did this. It was a pattern he had developed years ago. Most people acted and then were surprised by the result, but Solomon went through each possibility in his mind until he was very seldom surprised. “A truly wise man avoids conflict whenever possible,” he thought.
He could see that if Jeroboam were killed, Tipti would never forgive him. He would always be the enemy. There would be no reconciliation possible. At the same time he could see that he must deal harshly and strongly in this situation. Finally he determined that to keep Tipti from hating him he would have to warn her of what he intended to do. Of course this would make it possible for Jeroboam to be warned and escape, but there was nothing else to be done as far as he could see.
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