When I entered the barn, I saw that Aner wasn’t where I had left him. At first, I wasn’t concerned, assuming that the elderly couple had decided on their own to let him out for some fresh air and to graze in the grass that had sprouted following the first rain. Only when I ventured outside did I realize that I was in trouble. Four young men were surrounding my beloved horse, holding on to his reins. Aner was trying to free himself, but they wouldn’t let him move.
My fury filled me with strength. I recalled the first time I had met the gang, when they had come to take revenge for the punch in the face I had given their friend. I had been one against many, but I’d been able to hold my own anyway. Eventually I had fallen, but I am much stronger now.
I looked them over quickly, trying to assess their strength. They are tall and broadly built, but I am taller and no less broad. They can’t imagine that my innocent-looking left boot hides a sharp, serrated knife. I can easily take on these four miserable thugs who think they’ve found easy prey in the form of a frightened guest who believes the horror stories about them. They don’t know who they’re dealing with.
They surrounded me before I had a chance to reach for my knife.
“Give us your money.” Their knives were longer and sharper than mine. “It would be a shame to damage that beautiful body.”
I leapt over them in a single bound. I had intended to hop onto Aner’s back and gallop away, but I was knocked out by a kick in the head. I felt as if my body were on fire and collapsed to the ground, my head spinning with nausea. I was trying to sit up when I felt a deep stab in my leg. I ran my hand over it, writhing in pain, and felt the familiar warm liquid on my fingers. My leg was covered in so much blood that I was certain it had been chopped clean off.
They took my satchel, and there was nothing I could do about it. I remained on the ground helplessly, even as I heard Aner being dragged away. I must have screamed because one of them came back and kicked me in the head again.
“You should be thankful you’re still alive!” I heard him shouting as if from far away, like an echo. Then that familiar darkness enveloped me once again.
* * *
I was awakened by a sharp pain in my leg. The flickering light in my eyes made it difficult to identify the large figure sitting at my side, but I could feel its nails against my flesh. It took me a few seconds to realize that I had fallen into the hands of some fat man who was taking advantage of my unconscious state and torturing me. He was poking my wound with a sharp object and pinching my skin. I girded all the strength in my aching muscles and tried to fight him, but he pinned me down with one hand, almost effortlessly.
“Save your attacks for another time, kid.” It wasn’t hard to recognize his Edomite accent. “By the look of your leg, I’d say this is no time for jumping around.”
My feeling of helplessness hurt more than the physical torture. Ever since I had joined the gang, I’d felt invincible. I could easily overpower the few people who even considered threatening me. My fists of steel were infamous in every market in Ephraim. But here, in the land of Benjamin, they’re able to defeat me again and again. First, thugs make off with my beloved horse and steal my money, and now a mad Edomite is abusing me. It was a mistake to travel alone to Jerusalem. Had I taken the gang with me, no one would have dared attack us. But what’s done is done. I must be cold and calculating as I plan my next steps or the Edomite may yet cut me into twelve pieces, just as the Levite husband of that poor woman from Judah did after she was raped and murdered here in Gibeah. The stories Judeans tell about Benjamin apparently aren’t the fantasies produced by the raging minds of the king’s scribes. This tribe really is mad. All the good things Bilhah told me about it were just as false as the other fabrications I was force-fed throughout my childhood. Nothing I’d learned was the truth. Even the legends of Ephraim had been lies. So what if we spawned a few leaders? That doesn’t make us the chosen tribe. It was time I stopped thinking of Ephraim in the first person plural. I don’t know what tribe I belong to, and I actually don’t care. Bilhah can continue to fill Elisheba’s mind with ridiculous slogans about the wondrous tribes of Rachel, whose members were destined for royalty, but I have more important things to do. I have to find Aner and get out of the awful land of Benjamin.
“Get your filthy hands off me!” I said, lowering my voice as much as I could. “If you touch me one more time, I’ll have your head rolling like a gourd.”
The Edomite looked at me and burst into a powerful laughter, jiggling his many rolls of fat. “Well done, kid.” His mocking tone ignited my rage once more. “I admire your attempt to sound threatening despite your rather dire condition, but let’s see you get up and learn to walk before you start trying to impress me with your threats.”
He examined my leg up close and rubbed his hands with satisfaction. “A good job. The wound is sutured well. Now just don’t move your leg, and let time do the rest.”
“You sutured my wound?” I could barely talk, I was so shocked.
“What did you think I was doing? I have better things to do than poke around in the wounds of a foolish boy looking for trouble and getting into a fight with a gang of thugs from the most savage tribe in Israel.”
I started to like him. His origin also had something to do with it. I noticed a long time ago that the sense of not belonging I have when interacting with other people makes me partial to foreigners, especially those from nations despised by Israelites—Ammonites, Moabites, and Edomites. The only ones I like better are the Egyptians, perhaps because I am fluent in their language, or maybe because of our matriarch Asenath, the wife of Joseph.
Once again, I am thinking of Ephraim in the first person. I have to erase this tribal way of thinking from my mind. I am about to become a soldier in the king’s army, and that is the only identity I care about.
“I’m not scared of Benjaminite thugs. If I’d been focused on the fight and not trying to save my horse, I could have beaten them, easy.”
“Sure, kid,” he said, squeezing my arm affectionately. “But before you try, you could use a good trainer.”
Had anyone else dared talk to me like that, they would have gotten a taste of my wrath as proof that I was no kid. But coming from this big Edomite, “kid” sounded like a compliment. I couldn’t figure out why I cared what he thought about me. I was usually the one that people worked to please, not the other way around.
“They’ll train me well in Jerusalem. I’m going to join the king’s army.”
“If you can convince me that you’re serious, I’ll train you myself. I can teach you how to incapacitate a rival on the spot.”
“I need weapons training. I know how to throw a punch.”
“That you manage to rob innocent people in the markets and maybe throw a few punches every once in a while doesn’t make you a warrior.”
I was confused as to how he’d learned this information about me. He must be a sorcerer, I thought. The Edomites and the Egyptians are the best sorcerers in the world. When I was six, Bilhah took me to a magic show at the Zeredah market. The magician spat fire and turned wooden sticks into live snakes, just like Moses. I cheered for him, practically squealing with excitement, but when he placed a young woman in a box and sliced her in two, I burst into tears. A few moments later, the woman stepped out, unharmed and with a smile on her face, and took me in her arms. She fed me honeyed nuts and spoke in a language I didn’t understand. On the way home Bilhah explained that the woman had been speaking Edomite, adding with admiration that only the Edomites and the Egyptians knew how to do real magic. I walked around all day dizzy with joy, and even the quarrel that broke out at home couldn’t spoil my mood. Benaiah yelled at Bilhah about how irresponsible it was of her to bring me to crowded places, but Bilhah was unfazed by his yelling, insisting that the boy deserved to have fun once in a while, especially when the Edomites were putting on a magic show, which was something you didn’t see every day.
“Who are you?” I tried to push out of my
mind those accursed memories from my childhood that wouldn’t leave me alone, and turn my attention back to the mysterious man at my side.
“Hadad the Edomite. And who are you?”
“Shelomoam.”
“That’s it?”
“Shelomoam the … Hebrew.”
He laughed. “If you want to hide your tribal identity, find a name that doesn’t have a sh sound.” I felt as though he were uncovering my innermost thoughts.
“Are you a sorcerer?”
He laughed harder. “No, and neither was my father. I just know how to read people. That’s an essential quality for a warrior. If you choose to train with me, you’ll learn how to do it, too. Reading people is much more important than wielding swords. But we’d best put aside any discussion of our future together. Your body needs rest.”
“Why are you caring for me?” Although I liked him, I wasn’t so stupid as to fall for his strange solicitude. The past year and a half had taught me that everything comes at a price.
“I need soldiers like you.”
“What for?”
“I’m the commander of the army of the Palace of Candles.” He said the words with great ceremony, as if he were standing on a high stage, announcing his rank to a cheering crowd.
“I’ve never heard of such an army. Is it in Edom?”
“What are you talking about, kid?” he said, his giant belly jiggling with laughter. “The Palace of Candles is in Jerusalem.”
My body trembled with excitement. I had been left without money, without a horse, and almost without a leg, but I still felt lucky. Of all the people in the world, it had been my good fortune to fall into the hands of a senior commander from Jerusalem, who was offering to train me without examinations.
“Does your army belong to the king?” I wanted to be sure I wasn’t deluding myself.
He looked around quickly and then leaned close and whispered into my ear, “Have you heard of the Mad Princess?”
Ten
Hadad helped me up onto his magnificent chariot and ordered the coachman to proceed with care so that the bumpy road wouldn’t cause my sutures to come undone. I asked him if it was far to Jerusalem, and he exclaimed in surprise that I was the first Hebrew boy he’d met in his fifteen years in Israel who had never been there. I didn’t want to explain the bizarre circumstances of my childhood. Even if I had told him, I think he would have found it hard to believe that the people who raised me were afraid to expose me to the outside world just because my birth mother had taken part in some silly rebellion against the previous king twenty years ago.
I tried to fall asleep, but hunger ate away at my belly. The satchel that the thugs had stolen had carried not only my money, but also a fine breakfast that the innkeeper had prepared for me.
“When was the last time you ate?”
I can’t say that all my suspicions disappeared at once, but it was the first time in a long time that I felt I could trust somebody. I must have been smiling to myself, because he asked what was so funny.
“Your questions are. Why do you bother asking? You know everything about me anyway.”
“Not everything, but you can’t hide how hungry you are. It’s bothering you even more than your leg. We’ll be at the Palace of Candles soon, and you’ll be fed like a king. The Mad Princess employs the best cooks in Jerusalem, though she barely eats a thing.”
He looked me over with his piercing eyes. “But I can tell that you can’t wait. We’ll stop at the food stalls by the city gate. We don’t want you arriving at the palace unconscious.”
The coachman jumped off the chariot and returned with three steaming pastries. The fresh aroma drove me nearly crazy. I gobbled them down, one after another, hardly taking a breath in between. “Thank you, Hadad.”
“You’re welcome. You may call me by my name for now, but once we get to the palace you must call me Commander. Understood?”
“Completely understood, Commander. I know the rules. I wouldn’t dare call you by your name, just as I wouldn’t dare call the princess mad to her face.”
He blew out a sigh. “Well, to be honest, you can call her anything you want. She can’t understand it anyway.”
“Then why did you whisper her name in my ear and look to make sure no one was around?”
“Nice, kid, good attention to detail. That’s one of the most important qualities in a warrior. I didn’t want anyone from Benjamin to hear what I call her. She is one of them, and they’re not the kind of people you want to have trouble with.”
“You’re telling me! That tribe is deranged. The stories the Judeans tell about them are true. Violent thugs, that’s what they are.”
He narrowed his eyes, giving me an amused look. “And I understand that you, personally, frown upon thuggish behavior.”
My cheeks burned.
“Makes no difference to me, kid, I understand you. A man has got to eat, and not everyone has a plot of land to call his own. I’ve done some things in my lifetime that I’d rather forget. But ever since coming to Jerusalem, I’ve been innocent as a lamb.”
“Why did you come here?”
“Because of my wife, the lady Eno. Have you heard of her?”
“Why would I have?”
“She is the sister of Tahpenes, wife of the Pharaoh Siamun.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. “Do you mean to tell me that your wife is a princess?”
He laughed jovially. “I’m a prince, too.”
My mind was spinning with amazement. “An Egyptian prince?”
“I told you I was an Edomite. Can’t you hear my accent? I come from the royal family of Edom.”
At that moment, I realized that I was stuck in the chariot of an impressive, charming man who was no less mad than the Mad Princess. Only a person who couldn’t tell the difference between reality and imagination could make up such a far-fetched story. I began to consider plans for escape, but, of course, he read my mind. Expressing no alarm, he warned me apathetically that I should think twice before I jumped off a speeding chariot with an already severely injured leg.
“You don’t believe a word I say?” he asked almost proudly. “I suppose I wouldn’t have believed such a story either. I wonder what you’ll say when I tell you that my wife is not only the sister of Lady Tahpenes, but also the aunt of the king’s wife.”
“What king?”
“Your king, naturally.”
“How can an Egyptian princess be a Hebrew queen?” I mumbled desperately. I was so confused that I didn’t care about understanding anything anymore.
He looked at me with pity. “Say, kid, what have they been teaching you over there in Zeredah? Don’t you know that one of your king’s many wives is Pharaoh’s daughter? When Princess Hatshepsut traveled from Egypt to Jerusalem to marry the King of Israel, Pharaoh Siamun asked me to join her so that she wouldn’t feel all alone in that foreign country. I agreed. Why not? What did I care? I was a stranger in Egypt, so why not be a stranger in Israel? I took Eno, my wife, and our son, Genubath, and we joined Hatshepsut in Jerusalem.”
“I still can’t understand how an Edomite managed to marry the Pharaoh’s wife’s sister.” The free and easy way he spoke made me believe him, but I still suspected his story might have been made up, or at least wildly exaggerated. I was actually an expert on the subject of embellishments; I used to make them up all the time as a child. I loved peppering any experience, even meaningless little events, with imaginary details. Bilhah nicknamed me the Dreamer and complained that even though Joseph had been a great man, not all of his qualities were worth mimicking.
“An Edomite prince is certainly a worthy match for an Egyptian princess,” Hadad said. He wasn’t insulted by the disrespectful tone I had taken when referring to Edomites. “Especially if he’s also a celebrated military commander. The Pharaoh appreciated my talents, unlike your king. In Egypt, I trained warriors whose praises were sung throughout the country, but here, in that strange Palace of Candles I’ve been stuck in, I�
��m wasting my talents on spoiled brats parading around in their uniforms as if they were evening gowns, playing make-believe with pointless roll calls and marches. I know that the king had no choice because the Mad Princess demanded me for herself, and he didn’t want to get into a fight with her, but who would have thought that in the land of the heroic Hebrews I would be wasting away with toy soldiers? I really miss the position I had in Egypt. I would go back today if it wasn’t for Tahpenes. Whenever she hears about us planning a return to Egypt, she writes us distraught letters begging us not to leave her daughter alone. And I, like an idiot, relent. Inside this big body hides a very soft heart.”
I didn’t know whether or not to believe his story, but I realized that it didn’t really matter. The situation was as bad as it could be. He himself admitted that military service in the Palace of Candles was merely symbolic, while I stupidly had thought that I could use the experience to train to become a soldier in the king’s army. Life had taught me that there was no such thing as a free lunch. Why would some stranger I had never met before offer me a shortcut and turn me into a warrior? I’d been misled again. When would I finally learn to trust no one?
“Are you disappointed by what I told you?” I should have known he would read my mind again. “But that’s just it—that’s why I need you.”
He watched me expectantly, hoping I would ask him the meaning of that enigmatic statement. I pursed my lips and looked the other way to stop him from reading my mind and figuring out my plan of escape. It didn’t work. He commented calmly that I was free to go whenever I wished, but that he first wanted to explain how I fit into his plans.
“Do you think I just happened to help you out? Forget it. With me there’s no such thing as a free lunch.” Now I was feeling truly scared by his ability to quote my thoughts, word for word. “For years, I have been asking the king to permit me to train the soldiers biding their time in the service of the Mad Princess, so that when the time came they could leave the Palace of Candles and join his own army. So far, my requests have fallen on deaf ears. The king doesn’t believe that toy soldiers can be turned into warriors. But at our last meeting, he must have gotten tired of my pleading, and he agreed to give me a chance to prove myself. I need one clear success in order to demonstrate my skills. I’m looking for a young man who can withstand my training program and successfully pass the tests of skill that the army officers will arrange for him. If I can prove that I have managed to turn a toy soldier into a warrior, the king will appoint him a senior commander in his army and permit me to train more like him. I cannot fail. I am not willing to continue to waste my time on ridiculous parades. Now do you see why I need you? As soon as I saw you fighting off those thugs from Benjamin, I thanked my god Qos for placing you in my path. You were defeated, but at least you gave the fight everything you had. If they hadn’t ripped your leg apart, you would have kept fighting until your last breath. With your body and my training skills, you’ll become the greatest warrior in the land. Give me a year, and I’ll make you invincible, a new and improved version of Samson, the hero from the tribe of Dan. And, unlike him, you won’t be defeated by a woman. Trust me. My fighters work to improve themselves in every way, not just muscles and flexibility, but brains and personality as well. But if you want to become a true warrior, you must promise me you’ll follow me blindly and do whatever I order you to do, without question or doubt. That’s all. I’ve said my piece. The choice is yours.”
The Secret Book of Kings Page 8