“Why don’t you join us at the prostitutes’ tent?” the boys asked me. “A boy becomes a man only after he has known a woman.”
My silence led to all sorts of conjecturing. Some argued that I must prefer to sleep with men, like the Egyptians, while others were willing to swear that my towering height and broad shoulders hid the body of a prepubescent boy. I made no comment. What could I tell them? I couldn’t even admit to myself the true reason I kept away from women.
Ultimately, I decided that the company of the boys in the market wasn’t enough for me. They spent their days working like dogs, while I didn’t have to work for a living; in spite of the rift between us, my parents continued to support me generously. I sought the company of young people like me, who could afford to be carefree.
I found my new associates by chance, and though they weren’t what I had been expecting, they met my needs perfectly. It happened one day as I was strolling alone in the market of Shiloh and paused by a stall selling cakes. I was fishing out my coin purse when a short, skinny boy passed by, snatched it away from me, and disappeared. I gave chase and finally caught him outside the market, at the foot of a desolate hill. I knocked him to the ground with a punch to the face that left him writhing in pain. I took back my coin purse and turned to return to the market to get Aner, my beloved horse, who had remained by the cake stall. I made it perhaps thirty steps, no more, when I noticed a group of boys emerging as a single unit from the other side of the hill. They approached me confidently, and before I knew what was happening I was surrounded. I politely asked them to let me pass, and they responded by shoving me into the hillside. The pain I felt knocked the breath out of me. My knees buckled. I slipped down to the ground, my back against the hill. I tried to crawl, but they kicked me all over my entire body. The pain and helplessness gave me a power I didn’t know I had in me. I have no idea how I got up; all I could remember later were the desperate punches I threw until I finally sank into darkness.
When I regained consciousness, they were all sitting around me, cheerful and content. I thought they were waiting for me to wake up so that they could torture me to death, but instead of cutting me open, they handed me a jug of wine and watched, clearly impressed, as I sucked it down. “We need a giant like you in our group,” one of them said. I could tell that he was the leader, seeing as everyone else quieted down respectfully when he spoke.
Thoughts swirled through my mind. I knew I had to avoid doing something stupid. “Fine,” I said. “I’m going to get my horse, and I’ll be right back.”
Their laughter was sincere. “Your horse is here,” the leader said, pointing behind me. “We don’t leave horses roaming freely around the market. They don’t much like being alone.”
I looked back and saw Aner drinking calmly out of a large trough.
“You’re free to go, if that’s what you want,” the leader went on. “I’m sure you’ll figure out how to find us.”
I got back in the saddle quickly and rode away as fast as I could. Midway back to Zeredah, by the Land of Tappuah, I turned around and rode back to Shiloh.
Seven
Within a few days, I was already one of them. I tried not to discuss my family, but I couldn’t hide the fact that, in contrast to them, I was educated. They had been born to poor families and, having spent their childhoods at hard labor, were completely illiterate. Only the leader was a member of a landowning family and so had some education, but he, too, had been left with nothing after his mother was caught in an adulterous act. His father had killed her and sent her children away, no longer believing they were his. The leader’s two younger brothers had been sold into slavery, while he himself had wandered the roads and made his living as a thief until he formed this group and made himself its leader.
“It’s hard to be poor,” I said, sighing at his sad story.
“It’s much worse not knowing who your father is,” he replied.
* * *
I was so swept up by this new way of life that I almost managed not to think about my family. We spent enjoyable evenings training in mock battles, got mind-numbingly drunk at night, and had exhilarating adventures as thieves in the markets during the daytime. Our main thief was the skinny fellow who had snatched my coin purse in Shiloh—he had quick hands and was a great runner. I was appointed the guard who would follow him around on foot, while the other members of the group kept watch on horseback so that they could look in all directions and warn him about approaching soldiers. They had an easy job because the king’s soldiers focused on tax collection and didn’t waste their time with small matters like thievery.
I also didn’t have to work my muscles very hard to stop people who spotted the pickpocket making off with their coin purses. My mere presence was deterrent enough. The infuriated victims would look me up and down and stand frozen in place. But every once in a while, when a person wasn’t persuaded just by the look of me, I knew how to stop him. I preferred not to use violence unless there was no other choice. The beatings helped me release my suppressed rage, and they energized me, but I didn’t like the sight of the bruises and blood they caused. It made me feel sick.
My new friends teased me for my weakness, but it didn’t seem to diminish their adoration. Once more, I marveled at my mysterious appeal, which causes people to crave my company despite my standoffishness. I don’t know how it happened, but within a few weeks I found myself the leader of the group. The previous leader didn’t try to fight me, but rather vacated the position acceptingly, almost willingly.
My parents knew that I slept somewhere else most nights and only came home to get money and clean clothes. I didn’t need their money anymore since joining the gang, but I still came to see them in the first few months. Father and Elisheba didn’t speak to me, but Mother tried to ask about my life, persisting even after I rudely rejected her queries. I thought with contempt that she had grown old all of a sudden. I couldn’t believe she was only thirty-one. Her hair was still jet-black, the way it had been in my childhood, but I guessed that it would turn gray overnight when she learned of my plan to join the army.
The idea had seeped in slowly. The first time my friends told me about their dreams of joining the army, I was appalled.
“You want to become the king’s soldiers?” I shouted. “But you are sons of Rachel.”
They looked at me like I was mad. “So? The army is open to any able-bodied man, no matter which tribe he is from. The king knows it’s best to station native-born soldiers in each tribe’s land. No one wants to harm someone from their own tribe, even if that person is collecting their taxes. This king is much wiser than his father. There are no rebellions against him.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. I told my ignorant friends about the Rebellion of the Temples that had taken place at the start of the king’s reign, and of how despised he was not only by the tribes of Rachel, but also by the entire nation of Israel, except for Judah. “How can you aspire to join the army of the man who destroyed our temples and banished our priests?” I yelled excitedly. “How is it possible for young men of Ephraim to come to admire the person who trampled the symbol of Joseph and who shattered our statues of bulls?”
They listened with astonishment and said that they had never heard of such a rebellion, but that even if I was right, it proved nothing. The king had been young and inexperienced at the time, and he had made a demonstration of power for all to see. Today, he is full of confidence and isn’t afraid to draft soldiers from other tribes. The military salaries are exempt from taxes and include an Egyptian horse, a plot of land, and two slaves. And if you become a commander, you can take the prettiest girl in the area for yourself without any resistance whatsoever. No father would dare turn down a commander from the king’s guard who wanted his daughter.
At first, I was appalled by what they were saying, but the more I thought about it, the more the idea appealed to me. I realized that Mother had successfully brainwashed me with her burning hatred of the king, and I was mer
ely quoting what she had said like a baby. It was time I formed my own opinions and stopped mumbling her slogans. So, he banished our priests? Destroyed our temples? Shattered our symbols? I didn’t actually care about any of this.
I liked the idea of declaring my independence and becoming a soldier—the one thing Mother hated most and Father was most afraid of. I took pleasure imagining the looks on their faces when I would come in uniform to visit them in Zeredah. They would be begging to reveal their stupid secrets to me then, but I wouldn’t care to listen.
When I asked my friends how one joined the army, they said they were glad that I was interested and explained that potential recruits were examined in Jerusalem. A two-year training process followed for those who were accepted, and if I made it through that, I would become a soldier in the king’s army. We were extremely enthusiastic and decided to leave for Jerusalem right away because we had all grown tired of being petty thieves in the markets. Ultimately, though, I decided to delay our departure and announced that we would go through a challenging training program of our own to ensure that we were prepared to meet the entrance requirements.
* * *
My friends regularly visited prostitutes, but they were surprisingly accepting of my celibacy. Once in a while, however, over some bottles of wine, they tried to get to the bottom of it. Our conversations always began the same way, with the fellow sitting next to me in the circle mischievously refusing to pass the jug.
“Give it over,” I would say in rebuke.
“First you have to answer the question we’ve asked you dozens of times.”
“Which question?”
“Why are you celibate?”
“I don’t like prostitutes.”
“What do you like?”
“Lovers.”
General laughter.
“Then go find yourself some lovers. It would be nothing to you. Women swallow you up with their eyes already.”
“I will. Now give me the wine.”
What my friends’ efforts at persuasion could not accomplish one woman at the market did. I thought that I had encountered her before, but she looked like every other woman, so I didn’t give her a second look until I heard her name and occupation.
“Hello, Tirzah the Midwife,” the wool merchant greeted her. “I saved you some especially soft diapers from Kush. They say that even the sons of the Queen of Sheba used ones just like them.”
I wanted to jump off Aner’s back and go to her, but my legs froze like pillars of salt. It took a long time before I could get hold of myself, and by the time I did, she was gone. I began searching between the stalls like a madman. All I could remember was the blue headdress she had been wearing, but many other women wore those, too. I returned to my friends and instructed them to roam the streets of Shiloh and find out where Tirzah the Midwife lived.
“Someone has finally captured your heart!” they cheered. “Don’t worry. We’ll bring her to you on a golden platter, and you’ll be able to do with her as you please.”
“Don’t you dare touch her,” I warned them. “She’s an older woman, and I’m not attracted to her. I met her many years ago, when I was a little boy, and I’d like to see her again, that’s all.”
“As you wish,” they said, shrugging their shoulders, and were on their way. The mission was easier than I had expected, and I quickly received the information I had requested about Tirzah the Midwife, the wife of Ramiah son of Perez, the sycamore fig gatherer.
When we arrived at her home, I asked my friends to leave. I knocked on the door with trembling fingers. I was so excited that I felt as though my feet were about to give out.
A little girl stood in the doorway. She was normal-looking. Nothing about her appearance reminded me of the beautiful girl I’d remembered.
“Call your mother,” I told her.
My heart seized with disappointment at the sight of the withered woman who approached me.
“Are you the midwife?” I asked.
“Is your wife about to give birth?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll get Tirzah.”
I leaned my head against the door, breathing heavily. I heard the sound of her footsteps but didn’t dare look up.
“Greetings, my lord.” Her voice still retained traces of its old clear sound.
I looked up. Her pretty face remained almost untouched, but her waist had thickened and her breasts had grown fuller.
She examined me intently. “Are you from this area?”
“Yes, madam.”
“And where is your wife in labor?”
“I left her in a safe spot in the big forest. We were on the way to visit her family in the land of Manasseh when she suddenly started having contractions. I wasn’t prepared. She’s only eight months pregnant. I tried to—”
“There’s no time to talk. I’ll have them get the wagon ready. We must reach her quickly.”
“We can take my horse.”
She hesitated for a moment, then gave me her hand. I helped her climb into the saddle, got on behind her, and headed out of town at a gallop. I felt her warm body against my stomach and between my legs, and I could feel the sweet sensation of my body melting away.
Only after we reached the middle of the forest did I tell her that there was no woman in labor expecting us. She cried for help and tried to jump from the saddle. I held her from behind and told her who I was.
“I don’t remember you.” The rage that mingled with her fear afforded her a wild beauty. “So what if I helped your mother give birth to your sister? Is that any reason to abduct me?”
“You’re right,” I whispered. “I only meant to look at you from up close, but suddenly I wanted to be alone with you. Forgive me, Tirzah. I don’t know what came over me. I’ll get you home right away.”
She turned to look at me and examined my face with wonder. I could feel her breath against my lips.
“How could I not remember a giant like you?”
“I was only five years old.”
A gentle smile lit up her pretty face. “You can take me home later. I’m in no rush.”
We sat together in the shade of the trees. I described in great detail the special encounter we’d had thirteen years before, trying to jog her memory. And indeed, after a short while, her eyes sparkled as she joyfully told me that no one could forget the cold but tasty lentil stew we had eaten together while sitting on the mat or the interesting things I had told her. “To this day, I have never met a boy as well-versed in childbirth,” she chuckled.
Time passed quickly, and before we parted on the street leading to her home, I asked to see her again. Our next meeting spawned more meetings, and within a few weeks my friends could declare with satisfaction that Shelomoam was finally rid of his virginity. True, his lover was an older married woman and not a single girl, but to each his own.
Tirzah’s work gave her the freedom to come and go as she pleased without raising her husband’s suspicions. He himself spent his days among the sycamore fig trees and his nights in the embraces of his three wives.
“The woman who came to the door isn’t my mother,” Tirzah explained. “She is his first wife.”
“Why did you agree to be a second wife?”
“Such is the way of the world.” She had made her peace and accepted her status submissively, and I couldn’t help but picture my proud and confident mother, who had managed to remain my father’s one and only wife. “My father gave me away to the highest bidder. I thought Ramiah would be satisfied with two wives, but after I bore him a child, my body thickened, and he wasted no time before marrying a third one. This won’t be the end of it, either. His third wife, not yet nineteen, is in the first months of pregnancy, and he’s already saving money for another bride price.” She pulled me on top of her naked body and writhed passionately beneath me. “He can take another ten wives as far as I’m concerned. My poor sister-wives can pleasure themselves with his pathetic body all they want. I have you.”
&nbs
p; In those moments I would have been ready to swear to love this woman forever. Only years later, when I had known the love of my life, did I realize that Tirzah had been a substitute for the family I had lost. I had met her when I was five, in the midst of a momentous family event, and this had turned her into a family member in my eyes, a kind of older sister one could have desire for without guilt. The fact that she was married didn’t make me feel like a sinner. To this day, when I think back on the look of gratitude in her eyes each time we drank deeply of love, I know that the act will not be listed among my transgressions in the book of judgment of the God of Israel.
“How did a sweet, gentle boy become such a savage, the leader of a gang of thugs who rob people in the markets?” On Tirzah’s tongue, this sounded almost like a compliment.
“Would you have wanted me had I stayed sweet and gentle?”
The question remained unanswered, as we were already entwined in a not especially gentle activity. She loved me fiercely and with abandon, and only after she was sated could I cuddle in her arms and relax my body. Then, as I lay in her lap like a baby, she would launch into a series of probing questions, forcing me to open the wounds I had been trying to forget.
“How long has it been since you’ve seen your family?”
“More than half a year.”
The Secret Book of Kings Page 6