The Secret Book of Kings

by Yochi Brandes

  Riding on the open roads did me good. I felt the rain drops on my face. I took in the fragrance of the wet grass. I fingered the sticky trunks of pine trees, and I hopped off Aner’s back so I could knead moist clumps of earth in my hands. I felt my strength returning, and then, in a sudden flash of understanding, I knew I could no longer resist my yearning for the woman who’d been waiting twenty-one years for me.

  * * *

  Here is the cave I first saw thirteen years ago. Just like then, it is wet from the first rains of winter. It hasn’t changed at all—the same wide threshold, the same spacious hall, the same incense torches, the same colorful rugs on the floor and walls, the same long corridor leading to the small cell.

  Here is the woman with the cloak, sitting in the torchlight. Her body is wrapped, her face covered. Her two eyes blaze at me from behind the mask.

  I stand opposite her at the other end of the cell and utter the word that burns inside of me, quietly at first, then louder, eventually in a shout: “Mother.”

  Her entire body shakes, as it did back then. Her arms, her legs, even her face.

  “Shelomoam.”

  Her voice cracks as she whispers my name, exactly as it did back then.

  I come closer, kneel before her, and gently lift her mask off her head. The sight of her face makes my eyes sting, but I open them wide, feeling as though I want to look at her until the day I die. I will never get enough of the tiny wrinkles in the corners of her eyes, the black hair streaked with white, and the slightly loose skin of her neck.

  “‘Sorry’ is an unworthy word, but I have no other.”

  “Then say the word again that you said before. I’ve been yearning to hear it for twenty-one years.”

  “Mother.”

  She pulls me in and grasps me around the waist. She explores my hair and my face with her fingers, buries her lips in the crook of my neck, runs her trembling hands down the length of my back.

  I don’t know how my large body manages to curl up in her small lap. I rest my head on her shoulder, close my eyes, and feel swaddled like a baby.

  “Why don’t you take off your mask?”

  “They mustn’t see my face.”

  “The people who wanted to kill me are long dead.”

  “The danger has not yet passed, my beloved child.”

  “Come out of the cave, Mother. Let me see the sunlight on your skin.”

  “I might be recognized.”

  “I want you to come live in my home with me.”

  Her warm hand wipes at my tears and presses into my cheek.

  “The cave is my home, Shelomoam. At my age, it’s hard to get used to new homes.”

  Seven

  The next day, I sent two armed soldiers to Shiloh and ordered them to bring me Ramiah son of Perez, the sycamore fig gatherer. He arrived at the house of administration in chains. His pleas for mercy disgusted me. I told the guards to drag him off to the jail and informed him that he would be tried for the crime of murder.

  He gave me a blank stare. “She was my wife,” he said. “You have no right to intervene in what goes on inside people’s homes.”

  At my next meeting with the council of elders, I informed them of the murder and implied that, contrary to the firm views I had expressed in the past, this time I wouldn’t object to freshening up the abandoned noose in the town square. Instead of a reply, I got a murmur of displeasure, but they didn’t protest openly, and the matter remained unsettled. In light of their chilly reaction, I set the issue aside and only raised it again at my next meeting with the elders, two months later. I took comfort in the knowledge that in the meantime the murderer was rotting away in a cold and moldy cell. I quoted the law of Moses regarding the unfaithful wife, which forbade a jealous husband from taking the law into his own hands and killing his wife, even if he was absolutely certain that she had been with another man. Instead, he was required to bring her to a priest and make her swear her innocence.

  “It’s a different situation now,” the elders said. “We no longer have any temples or priests in Ephraim, and we cannot demand that a jealous husband take his wife to Jerusalem anytime he becomes suspicious.”

  “But he can murder her?”

  “A wife is her husband’s property. He paid a bride price for her. That is the law.”

  Before our next meeting, I prepared a moving speech about the fates of miserable women who were unlucky enough to be given to cruel men, and about Moses the lawgiver, who had given extensive authority to the elders of the nation. While I was making my speech, I wasn’t thinking of Tirzah, as one might have expected, but about Elisheba. I imagined her sitting across from me on one of the benches, her long curly hair flowing over her delicate shoulders and her black almond-shaped eyes sparkling at me with an encouraging twinkle.

  “The helpless ones are holding out their feeble hands to you in desperation,” I raised my voice in an emotional conclusion. “You are the only rays of light in the darkness of their lives. God hears the cries of the oppressed and hopes that the elders of Israel will gather their strength and courage to judge His people with righteousness and compassion. Do not stand idly by. This is your moment.”

  An hour later, the elders gave me their word that Ramiah son of Perez would not live another year. I immediately ordered my soldiers to disperse throughout Ephraim and invite the people to the trial that would begin in Shechem the following month. I wanted as many men as possible to be there, and I wanted the verdict to reverberate throughout the land. A few soldiers twisted their faces in anger, but most of them expressed gladness and set out willingly.

  At the end of the day I rode to the lepers’ cave to tell Mother about the trial. Ever since our reunion, I would visit her at least once a week, and I was glad to discover that, in contrast to the uncomfortable tension that continued to prevail between my adoptive family and me, with my real mother I was actually able to build a warm bond that only grew stronger as we spent more time together.

  “I’m so proud of you, Shelomoam,” she said.

  Her response was predictable, but it made me happy anyway. I’d had a hard day, beginning with the long speech and the excruciating longing for Elisheba, and ending with open disdain from some of my soldiers. I needed a mother’s stroking. We sat down to eat, and I told her again about the success of my tax plan. I wanted her to compliment me, but she barely had any reaction to what I was saying. Her mind seemed elsewhere. When I stood up and was about to clear the table, she looked at me and said, “Why are you giving up on your love?”

  It took me a long time to reply. “If I act on my love, people will know she isn’t my sister, and my identity will be revealed.”

  “We’ll find a solution, Shelomoam, just as we found solutions for all the other problems that sprung up at every turn throughout your childhood and youth. Your grandmother has fine advisors, and she’s managed to come up with a cover story for every problem. Who do you think composed all those stories we told you?”

  I didn’t know what to say, and I sat back down. “Elisheba doesn’t want me,” I finally whispered. “I’m like a brother to her.”

  “Every woman dreams of a brother’s love,” Mother said. She was silent for a moment, then she stood up and sang in a clear, pleasant voice:

  “If only you were to me like a brother,

  “Who was nursed at my mother’s breasts!

  “Then, if I found you outside, I would kiss you,

  “And no one would despise me.

  “I would lead you and bring you to my mother’s house.

  “I would give you spiced wine to drink,

  “The nectar of my pomegranates.”

  * * *

  The next few months were intense, and I had no time to think about the trial. I trusted the elders to be properly prepared and didn’t ask them too many questions. I devoted most of my time to individual meetings with the three thousand young men who were about to leave for Jerusalem as forced laborers, and I promised them that my soldie
rs would visit their families regularly and make sure that all their needs were taken care of. Many young men tried to bow to me, but I wouldn’t let them. Had it not been for the revulsion I felt for Absalom son of David, I would have grabbed them with both my hands and kissed them on their heads and perhaps even on their faces. I felt as if they were my children, even though most of them were older than I was. The old age that had come over me in the wake of Grandmother’s story no longer consumed all my strength. Most of the time I felt fresh and active, but the sixty-five years that had unfurled before me had been added to my own, and they had turned me into a man with life experience.

  On the day of the trial, crowds of people flocked to Shechem from all over Ephraim. They gathered outside the house of administration and listened intently to the heralds, who repeated every word that was spoken inside. The elders’ verdict was accepted with cheers of joy, and many girls even began dancing and singing songs of praise for me, their faces bursting with adoration. They were pretty and sweet, and they made me feel great yearning. I knew I could have any girl I wanted, that I could cling to her soft skin, taste her breasts, push my loins against her thighs, and feel I wasn’t alone.

  To my disappointment, the elders acceded to the murderer’s pleas and postponed the date of his execution by four months in order to allow him to celebrate the last Festival of Freedom of his life. When I told Mother about this turn of events, she consoled me by saying that the postponement didn’t make any difference. It was thanks to me, she said, that all men had learned the lesson that there was a higher law and that the blood of women is not forfeit.

  * * *

  A week before the Festival of Freedom, I was awakened in the morning by a thundering male voice coming from the back gate of the house of administration, which was just beneath my bedroom. It took a few seconds before I was able to shake off the cobwebs of sleep long enough to realize that it was the voice of Hadad. I raced outside in my nightgown, intending to attack him unceremoniously, but at the last minute I noticed a tall, skinny figure at his side, which put a damper on my joy. Adoram and Hadad stood side by side, instructing the stablemen as to how to handle the horses. Hadad spoke louder than usual. I knew him well enough to understand that he was trying to warn me.

  “Hello, Your Excellencies,” I said tentatively.

  They turned to face me. I could tell that Hadad was proud of the speed with which I managed to freeze my emotions, just as he had taught me. I tried to catch his eye to get a sense of what was in store for me, but he ignored me and instructed the servants to unpack their things. I invited them to breakfast, and Adoram ordered me to have the meal served in a side room so that we could have privacy.

  The moment we sat down, Hadad declared gravely that troubling news had reached Jerusalem of unusual authority I had taken upon myself.

  “What authority?” I asked, trying to give my voice an apathetic tone.

  “Legal authority,” Hadad answered gravely.

  “Have you come to look into the trial of the fig gatherer from Shiloh?”

  Adoram loudly chewed a piece of moist honey cake, looking me over with his narrow eyes.

  “And at the same time,” Hadad continued, “we intend to clarify the nature of the extreme changes you’ve made in matters of taxation.”

  The news was certainly not encouraging, but having Hadad at my side in my time of need made me confident that I’d get out of this bind. I maintained a calm demeanor even as Adoram met with the elders and asked to hear them describe the chain of events that had led to the strange trial and the surprising verdict. The elders didn’t mention my involvement and completely left out the speech that had led them to change their views and put a husband who had killed his wife on trial. When Adoram commented angrily that word of my speech had reached his ears, they answered dismissively that I had been giving a great many speeches, and they weren’t able to remember every word I said. The leader of the elders went even further, emotionally telling Adoram that what had led them to deviate from the law and put the man on trial was the extremely cruel manner of the murder, the likes of which Israel hadn’t seen since the concubine in Gibeah. “A cruel murder deserves a cruel punishment,” the elder concluded. “That was the lesson that the Judeans taught us when they punished the people of Benjamin to the full extent of the law.”

  When Adoram finally retired to rest, I waited to hear the door lock before I hugged Hadad. He patted my shoulder, hard.

  “So?” I said. “Am I in trouble?”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Do you think I’ll get out of it in one piece?”

  “In one piece? Every other commissioner in the country wants to study your method and set varying tax rates. The wealthy are trembling in fear. They’re afraid their fate will be the same as that of the wealthy of Ephraim, but they have no one to make compelling speeches to them, to convince them that higher taxes will turn them into saviors of the people and ensure the admiration of future generations. Where do you get these ideas?”

  “Just read our Torah and look at the reasoning Moses used to convince the people to set aside a weekly day of rest for every person, to free their slaves after seven years of service, and to let their fields lie fallow every seventh year, and you’ll see that I’ve come up with nothing new.”

  “You truly are as great as Moses. Your grandmother says so, too. She asked me to remind you of his birth story and said you would figure out the rest for yourself.”

  I pondered the story of Moses’s adoption and reached the conclusion that we were actually opposites. He was raised as a prince and discovered as an adult that he was the son of slaves, while I was raised a son of slaves and discovered as an adult that I was a prince.

  “Did Moses also teach you how to recruit forced laborers?” Hadad said, interrupting my thoughts. “The exemption you gave their families has turned them into the most diligent builders in Jerusalem.”

  “Do you think Adoram would agree to raise the quota of forced laborers in exchange for lowering the tax rate? The wealthy of Ephraim are having great difficulty bearing the heavy tax burden, and every so often signs of protest pop up. I’ve been meeting with each one of them personally to calm them down, but we won’t be able to hold on much longer with such high tax rates. Eventually, even the wealthy will collapse under the weight and abandon their lands. On the other hand, forced laborers are easy for me to recruit. I have five thousand additional young men waiting in line and prepared to go to Jerusalem even today.”

  “I think Adoram would gladly approve that deal. The three thousand new laborers you’ve sent him build more in a month than the ten thousand workers from the rest of the tribes do in a year.”

  “Then why did you come to Shechem to threaten me with your inspections?”

  “What’s the matter? Don’t you want to see your old trainer anymore?” He burst out laughing, but then his face turned serious. “Why did you decide to put the husband who murdered his wife on trial? You know that I’ve got nothing personal against executions, but it’s best not to put any ideas in Adoram’s head. He needs to believe that you’re a tax collector who only cares about money, not some kind of judge or a man with leadership ambitions. We don’t need him to start fearing you too soon. I’d also advise you to go easy on the names you’ve called Solomon. They fit too well, and Adoram knows that.”

  “So what’s going to happen?”

  “I trust your powers of persuasion. Explain to him that you got carried away trying to persuade the elders to accept your tax plan.”

  “And will he accept my explanation?”

  “That’s the beautiful thing about Adoram. He loves money and doesn’t really care how you get it. Do you think he’ll give up a gold mine like you?”

  “And what about the trial?”

  “The murderer will return to Shiloh alive and well, and you won’t even be able to send your gang over to make him disappear. If you had just killed him quietly, no one would have said a word, but you dec
ided to teach the people a lesson and turned his trial into a spectacle, so now you’ll have to sit quietly and let Adoram set him free.”

  “It will undermine my position in the eyes of the people of Ephraim.”

  “Nothing can undermine your position in the eyes of the people of Ephraim, Shelomoam. I saw how the elders went out of their way to protect you. They love you.”

  “I don’t understand you, Hadad. If everything is so good, why did you take the trouble to make the trip?”

  Instead of answering, he wrapped his arm around my head, crushing the back of my neck. I felt like my bones were about to break, but it was a pleasant kind of pain. “To tell you I was wrong,” he said.

  “About what?”

  “About your becoming king.”

  “You don’t want me to be king anymore?”

  “I’m not worried about it anymore. It doesn’t make a difference whether you want it or not. In the end, you will become king despite your objections. Your grandmother and I thought that we’d have to reveal your identity to put you on the throne, but it has become clear to us that you’re doing well enough without the people knowing about your royal ancestry. You took on the most hated position in the land, and within a year and a half you’ve become the most beloved and admired man in Ephraim. I have no idea how you did it. As far as I can remember, I didn’t include developing that skill in your training program.”

  “Thank you for the compliments, but I already have a plan for myself, and becoming king isn’t part of it.”

  He looked at me intently. “Would you like to hang the villain who murdered your lover?”

  I could tell I was blushing.

  “Would you like to make new laws for your people?”

  I remained silent.

  “Those are all things,” said Hadad, “that only a king can do.”

  We continued staring at each other for a long moment. “I miss Grandmother so much,” I finally whispered, totally beside the point.

  He smiled. “You’ll see her again. She won’t leave this world before you bring her the great-grandchild you promised her.”