After Bathsheba tells David about Adonijah’s plans to make himself king—David has remained ignorant of them until now, though the feast is happening practically outside his palace window—she suggests that all of Israel is waiting to hear who David will choose to succeed him. Again, this is a lie—no one outside of this room, where Bathsheba is speaking to David, has any notion that Solomon ought to be king or has any right to be king. But Bathsheba positions David’s decision as having national importance, perhaps playing on his infirmity, giving the aged king one last chance to affect Israel’s fate. She concludes by repeating the warning of Nathan: “when my lord the king lies down with his fathers, my son Solomon and I will be regarded as traitors” (1 Kings 1:21). As before, this fear is baseless. Bathsheba and Solomon are unimportant. They have done nothing to mark themselves as traitors—at least, not until this very moment, when Bathsheba asks David to make Solomon king.
From start to finish, Bathsheba’s speech is designed to play upon David’s fragile mental state. The only truth in it is the description of Adonijah’s plans—the one thing she presents to David as new information. What she presents as something David already knew—that he had promised Solomon the throne—is the lie. David is being shrewdly manipulated here. The man who once made all of Israel dance like a marionette beneath his fingers is now rendered helpless. He acquiesces to Bathsheba’s lies: “The oath I swore to you by Yahweh, the God of Israel, that your son Solomon should succeed me as king and that he should sit upon my throne in my stead, I will fulfill this very day!” (1:30).
Some have doubted whether this exchange ever really happened.12 It is, after all, another private conversation to which the biblical authors could not have been privy, and is thus open to doubt. It also serves a clear apologetic purpose: to have David be the one to officially declare Solomon his successor, thus denying the possibility that Solomon took the throne without David’s consent (or even knowledge). We may also wonder whether Bathsheba’s lie about David having long ago declared that Solomon would be king is designed to fool David or to fool the reader. At the same time, it would not be unreasonable for Bathsheba to take advantage of David’s state and have him pronounce Solomon king, even if David was not of sound mind. Until there was a new king, David’s words still had some currency. It couldn’t hurt to be able to say that David had approved of Solomon’s kingship. Perhaps most likely, Bathsheba went to David to see for herself just how debilitated the king was. Did he have the capacity to stand in the way of Solomon’s kingship? She got her answer.
Solomon’s Anointing
DAVID IS DESCRIBED AS giving full instructions for Solomon’s anointing. He calls for Zadok and Benaiah, the priest and general who opposed Adonijah, and tells them to take Solomon, with David’s warriors, to the Gihon spring, Jerusalem’s famous water source. There he will be anointed, the horn sounded, and the shout raised: “Long live King Solomon!” (1 Kings 1:34). Then Solomon will be taken to the palace and seated on David’s own throne. This speech is unexpectedly lucid. It seems to contain information that David would not have had access to—such as the support of his army for Solomon, which even according to the biblical account David had not been told of. And it suggests that Solomon will be not a coregent with David, but the sole king in David’s place, sitting alone on David’s throne. But a kingship was not something a man gave up while still alive. A man stopped being king only when he stopped breathing. It is hard to imagine David giving these instructions.
On the other hand, it is easy to see why it would be important from the standpoint of the authors to put this speech in David’s mouth. Again, it confirms that Solomon’s kingship, down to the fine details of his anointing and including his replacement of David rather than coregency with him, was David’s willing choice. As always, the biblical emphasis on David’s participation suggests that perhaps he was not so closely involved.
Either way, the anointing of Solomon proceeded according to plan. He was taken to the Gihon spring by Zadok, Abiathar, and David’s army and anointed with oil, and the horn was sounded. Then the biblical authors do something familiar. They tell us that “all the people shouted, ‘Long live King Solomon!,’ ” and “all the people then went up behind him, playing on flutes and rejoicing greatly, and the earth was split open by their voices” (1 Kings 1:39–40). Somehow, the private ceremony turned into a very public celebration, as if to imply that everyone in Jerusalem had both heard about the anointing of Solomon and immediately supported it. But there is no explanation for how this would have come to pass. Solomon’s anointing was a hasty affair, designed to take place before Adonijah had a chance to declare himself king—remember that Bathsheba’s conversation with David, David’s instructions, and the fulfillment of those instructions all occurred between the beginning of Adonijah’s feast and the coronation at its conclusion. There is no time for the inhabitants of Jerusalem either to have been told about Solomon’s ceremony—nor is it ever said that they were—or to have gathered at the Gihon spring. And there is no reason that they should have been overjoyed at Solomon becoming king. Probably, there would have been less dancing and more asking of the question, “Who is Solomon?” This is another example of the biblical authors using “all the people” to persuade the reader: if “all the people” supported Solomon, how could we not?
The Gihon spring is less than a kilometer from En-Rogel, where Adonijah’s feast was taking place. It is reasonable, then, that the Bible accurately portrays those attending the coronation at En-Rogel as hearing the sounds of the horn and the shouting from Solomon’s parallel ceremony. The news quickly made its way to Adonijah: Solomon had beat him to the kingship. The biblical account of the message, reflecting the continuous attempts of the authors to make Solomon’s kingship out to be almost universally popular, includes the note that “the king’s courtiers came to congratulate our lord King David” (1 Kings 1:47), which must have been confusing for Adonijah, since “all the king’s courtiers” were with him at his coronation feast. But what undoubtedly put an end to Adonijah’s ceremony, and broke up the party permanently, was the discovery that the Cherethites and the Pelethites were with Solomon. The support of all of Israel probably would not have been enough to put Adonijah on the throne—after all, it was not enough to keep Absalom there in the face of David’s royal militia. Solomon’s coronation would go unchallenged.
The feature of the biblical story that seems least probable is the suddenness of Solomon’s anointing. Opposition to Adonijah, which is readily explained, is quickly transformed into support for Solomon—even though Solomon seems to have been seeking precisely the same thing as Adonijah. People who have no stake in Solomon—not only the probably invented Nathan, but also Zadok and Benaiah and the army—throw their authority behind him with no obvious justification. Support takes time to build up, but the biblical account leaves no room for it.
In reconstructing the more historically likely course of events, we can rectify some of these inconsistencies. David’s feebleness was apparent to all. It was the motivation for Adonijah’s actions, which were more an attempt to save the kingship than to usurp it. Nevertheless, Adonijah acted unilaterally—an indication that David was truly in no shape to rule. His decision was the logical one, and the one supported by most of David’s own administration. He was the next in line, and the continuity of the dynasty was of great importance. And there is no reason to doubt Adonijah’s ability to lead.
But unilateral decisions are almost never without controversy. As David weakened, there was room for others with an eye on the throne to step up. Ironically, David was now in the same position Saul had been in so many years earlier: the first king in a hoped-for dynasty, with an assumption—though not an assurance—of lineal succession. David had seen in Saul’s kingship the possibility that an outsider could step in. Others must have thought the same about David’s. We should not see the decision to elevate Solomon as a sudden one, but rather as one that grew as David declined, in parallel with Adonijah’s
moves to take power. This would best explain the recurring claim that somehow Bathsheba’s and Solomon’s lives would be endangered if Adonijah became king: the two sides had been in increasing competition all along.
With no clear end to David’s reign in sight—and thus no clear beginning for his successor—it must have been something of a waiting game. If David died, Adonijah would be the de facto king, at which point any other candidate would have a far more difficult path to the throne. In some respects, then, Adonijah did Solomon a favor by making his move while David was still alive. And Solomon’s supporters must have been ready for it when the moment came. As soon as Adonijah moved to crown himself, Solomon’s people did the same for their man. But they had no need of a large feast and a public celebration. They needed only a few men, a jug of oil, and a horn—and David’s royal bodyguards standing beside them.
There is no need to posit any participation on David’s part through all of this. He was incapacitated, nothing more than a figurehead, and one whose death all involved eagerly awaited. The real power, it is clear from Solomon’s success over Adonijah, rested in the hands of Benaiah and the Cherethites and Pelethites. We have already had occasion to observe that in a power vacuum, it is often the military that takes command, in the ancient world as today. With David incapable of leading them, his militia had the power to dictate their preferences. And when they gave their support to Solomon, he had command of the most powerful institution in Israel.
Adonijah would have realized the precariousness of his situation immediately upon hearing that Solomon had been anointed. He knew what happened after a coup to those with a rightful claim to the throne. His father had provided a blueprint. Now Solomon was in charge, and Adonijah was like one of Saul’s descendants—a constant threat that he would sway popular opinion (which he already had) and that he would attempt to regain the throne (which he undoubtedly would). Adonijah had two courses of action: flee the country, or throw himself on Solomon’s mercy. He chose the latter. He ran to the altar beside the ark in Jerusalem and clutched the horns on its corners. Everyone would have understood this as the traditional gesture of one seeking sanctuary—this is in fact exactly where that meaning of “sanctuary” comes from—a tradition that is already assumed in the earliest legal text of the Bible (Exod. 21:14).13 Solomon may have felt that he had not yet accumulated enough power to kill Adonijah, who had the support of so many. He therefore let him live—for now.
With Adonijah’s flight to the sanctuary, the debate over David’s succession came to an end. David’s eldest son lived in fear for his life. Solomon—an outsider, the son of Uriah the Hittite—sat uncontested on the throne over Judah and Israel. It would appear that Solomon had accomplished something truly remarkable. But in fact, it seems that Solomon had little to do with it. His first words in the Bible are his ruling that Adonijah should be allowed to live. Throughout all the machinations to make him king, including his coronation ceremony, Solomon is silent. Others always act on his behalf: Benaiah, Zadok, the military, and, most important, Bathsheba.14 Solomon appears to be something of a pawn. The driving force behind his kingship was the new queen mother; Solomon’s coup was really Bathsheba’s coup.
How could Bathsheba, ostensibly just another one of David’s many wives and concubines, garner enough support to put Uriah’s son on the throne? It is crucial to note where the support came from. Solomon gained the kingship because David’s warriors were behind him. And they were behind him because Solomon was almost one of their own. Bathsheba’s father, Eliam, was one of David’s warriors—so, too, her husband and Solomon’s father, Uriah. Solomon did not grow up in David’s court, as Adonijah had. He grew up among David’s army. This was a military coup—David had always ruled on the strength of his private militia, and now that militia was claiming official command of the nation that it had, in effect, controlled for years.
Bathsheba, as one of David’s wives, perhaps had more authority, or access to power, than others who might have wished their military sons to rise to the top. But she also may have had extra motivation. Her grandfather, remember, was Ahitophel, David’s former advisor who turned his allegiance to Absalom. Ahitophel, as may be expected, did not survive the rebellion. The Bible says that when his advice was rejected in favor of Hushai’s, he went home and hanged himself (2 Sam. 17:23). If he did truly commit suicide, it would be more logical for him to have done so only after Absalom had been killed—after all, had Absalom somehow emerged victorious even despite Hushai’s subversive actions, Ahitophel would have remained a high-ranking member of the royal court. But it is equally possible that he did not commit suicide at all but was killed by David as punishment for his defection, just as Amasa was killed for his. It also seems likely that if Ahitophel had defected, his son Eliam had as well; though it is not unheard of for fathers to fight against sons, it need not be the most obvious choice either. And then there is Uriah, Bathsheba’s first husband, whom David had killed—and whom, based on Bathsheba’s naming her son Solomon, she never stopped loving. It is thus possible that Bathsheba had lost three of her male relatives, including her father and husband, to the sword. Solomon’s kingship may have been Bathsheba’s revenge: an opportunity to make right all of the wrongs that had befallen her family because of the king.15
If this reconstruction has any validity, it means that the fallout from Absalom’s revolt was more widespread than may have been imagined. Not only did Absalom permanently scar David’s previously unblemished power, but ironically, in defeating Absalom, David may have laid the groundwork for the ultimate downfall of his kingship and the end of his incipient dynasty. With Solomon’s accession—not succession—to the throne, David’s power was finally and completely gone. He was no longer king. He was merely an old man confined to his bed.
David’s Death
THE FINAL CHAPTER OF the biblical story of David’s life consists almost entirely of David’s deathbed instructions to Solomon. It begins with a short speech that, like the oracle in 2 Samuel 7, is a seventh- or sixth-century BCE addition to the narrative based on the book of Deuteronomy. David tells Solomon to be strong—exactly as Moses, in his deathbed speech, tells Joshua to be strong (Deut. 31:6). He tells Solomon to “keep the charge of Yahweh your God” (Deut. 11:1); to walk in God’s ways and observe all of his laws, commandments, rules, and admonitions (Deut. 26:17). These, David says, are recorded “in the Torah of Moses”—that is, Deuteronomy, to which, it should be noted, David has never paid much attention before this. All of this is in order that Solomon should “succeed in whatever you undertake” (Deut. 29:8). Then, David says, God will fulfill the promise he made about David: the promise of 2 Samuel 7. As Deuteronomy was written at least three hundred years after David lived, it is safe to conclude that David never said any of this.
Now David turns to the specific instructions. First, he tells Solomon to kill Joab. This is, to say the least, shocking—no one in all Israel, at least according to the biblical narrative and probably in reality as well, was as loyal to David as Joab. David’s rationale is baldly apologetic: Joab should die because he killed Abner and Amasa. Even in his last words David’s reputation is upheld. Solomon needs no fictional reason to kill Joab, for Joab had taken Adonijah’s side—correctly perceiving that to be the course truest to David’s legacy. The opposing general was never allowed to live—as the cases of Abner and Amasa, mentioned by David himself, prove.
David also tells Solomon to deal with Shimei, the northerner who accused David of killing Saul’s family. David had promised Shimei that he would not die—which at the time was a measure of David’s decreased power after Absalom’s revolt. Solomon can now do what David had been unable to. And it is as much in Solomon’s interests to root out any potential troublemakers as it was in David’s.
In neither of these cases did David need to tell Solomon what to do. Solomon—if he were only half as wise as the Bible makes him out to be—would be sure to do them on his own. And, like the speech lifted from Deuteronomy,
it is certain that David did not tell Solomon what to do. Solomon had stolen the crown from David’s head. There is no reason to think that he ever went to David for advice, or for anything else. David was not Solomon’s father—he was nothing to Solomon anymore. These instructions exist to validate Solomon’s actions as reprisals on David’s behalf rather than as the understandable decisions of a new king wanting to consolidate his power.
With the final details out of the way, nothing was left for David but to die. In all likelihood, he died alone—no family was left to be at his bedside; perhaps only a servant or two were assigned by Solomon to keep watch and report the happy news. David had risen from the humblest of beginnings to become the mightiest king Israel had ever known. But he died without glory, his power, both physical and political, having long since slipped away.
Solomon Secures His Power
ONCE DAVID WAS GONE, Solomon had only to tie up the loose ends. He began, as expected, by dealing with Adonijah and his supporters. In the Bible, Adonijah dies mostly of stupidity. He is said to have gone to Bathsheba with a friendly request: might he perchance take David’s last concubine, Abishag, as his wife? Solomon, when Bathsheba brings Adonijah’s request to him, correctly interprets it: “Why request Abishag the Shunammite for Adonijah? Request the kingship for him!” (1 Kings 2:22). For this gross misconduct, Solomon has Benaiah, his general, kill Adonijah. It is impossible to imagine that Adonijah, who had been forced to seek sanctuary to save himself from Solomon, should now be so foolish as to try such a blatant attempt at a coup. Solomon had Adonijah killed for the obvious reason: he was the rightful heir to the throne that Solomon had stolen. The biblical story, however, absolves Solomon of any vindictiveness. He had given Adonijah a chance to live out his days in peace, the Bible tells us. It was Adonijah who brought about his own death.
The Historical David: The Real Life of an Invented Hero Page 26