The Secret Book of Kings: A Novel

by Yochi Brandes

  He bent his head down and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “I don’t understand why no one ever told me.”

  “So that you would go on thinking that he was murdered by a mad priest.”

  His face froze in shock.

  “He escaped to the altar after learning of false charges being concocted against him by the queen mother, Bathsheba, who claimed that he was scheming to take Abishag the Shunamite, the last woman your grandfather had married before he died.”

  His mouth dropped open a bit, and his eyes widened in horror. “Who killed my father?”

  “Benaiah son of Jehoiada, the commander of Solomon’s army.”

  “Oh my God,” Ithiel mumbled with the last of his strength.

  “I don’t know if you believe me, and there isn’t anyone still alive to confirm what I’m saying, but I had to tell you what I knew about you.”

  I pulled sharply on my horse’s reins and began galloping forward when I heard Ithiel call from behind me, “Wait a moment!”

  I stopped and turned my horse to face him.

  “I do have someone I can ask. The old lady I mentioned earlier…”

  I held my breath.

  “Her name is Abishag.”

  I felt the distant characters from Grandmother’s story coming to life and standing before me. No matter where I went or what I did, no matter how far I ran, they would always pursue me. I tried to steady my hands so that I could ride on, but Ithiel stood in front of me and blocked my path.

  “How do you know all this?”

  I said nothing.

  He didn’t take his eyes off me. “Who are you, Shelomoam?”

  At that moment I did the thing I’d been warned about and cautioned against, the thing they made me fear and that caused my torture in the tunnels. All my senses fought against me, but no power in the world could stop me.

  I got off the horse, stood before him, and looked into his eyes. “The Mad Princess was my grandmother.”

  His eyes widened. “You’re … you’re…”

  “Yes,” I said. “I am the great-grandson of King Saul.”

  Thirteen

  My great-grandfather and his three sons were killed by the Philistines, but I breathed a sigh of relief when I got to their land. As we rode swiftly along the Jarkon River, I sat on high alert in the carriage. Each soldier who passed us made my heart beat faster, but when we entered Ashdod, I could finally slow down and glance back at my family, sitting crowded in the back, signs of terror still upon their faces. A distant image suddenly flashed before me: my grandmother fleeing Gibeah with my grandfather Paltiel and her soul sister Rizpah, looking at the seven boys sitting around her in the carriage, knowing that if she couldn’t get them safely to Gallim there would be nothing left of the House of Saul.

  “I’m hungry,” whined little Miriam.

  Had I not insisted on stopping at the lepers’ cave, we would have had time to bake a few loaves of bread for the road, but I couldn’t flee without taking my leave of Mother. I had begged her to come with us, but she’d refused absolutely. “If I flee with you, they might begin to make inquiries about me and discover my identity,” she said firmly. I tried to explain that the king wanted me killed anyway. What difference did it make if he knew who I was?

  Mother sighed and shook her head. “What is a tax commissioner, insubordinate and rebellious as he may be, compared to the last scion of the House of Saul?”

  “Our exile is liable to last a long time,” I said. “Who knows when we’ll meet again.”

  My words pierced her heart like a dagger. I didn’t think I had ever seen her so sad. “Sometimes a mother’s love is tested most powerfully in parting, like Jochebed, who let go of her son and abandoned him on the waters of the Nile in order to save his life. I parted with you the moment you were born; I have the strength to part with you again.”

  She covered her face with the mask, and I went outside to call my children to come into the cave to say farewell to Zeruah, the leper who was Mother’s and Father’s friend. Elisheba hugged her, wiping the tears from her own eyes as she did. Miriam kissed her covered-up hands, and the boys promised to send her letters.

  I bent over and rested my head on her shoulder. “We’ll come back to you,” I whispered.

  “I know,” she said.

  “Come back from where?” Miriam asked.

  “Where are we going?” Nadab and Abijah joined in.

  I didn’t reply. I was afraid someone might stop us during our journey and ask our destination. I didn’t want to burden them with keeping the secret.

  Only four days later, after we had left the city of Gaza, did I dare speak aloud the name of the land we were about to enter.

  “I knew it!” declared Abijah proudly. “I could tell we were riding south along the coast.”

  “I’m afraid of the Egyptians,” Miriam said.

  “Our matriarch Asenath was an Egyptian,” Nadab reminded her.

  “The Egyptians are bad,” insisted the girl. “That’s why Moses struck them with terrible plagues.”

  Bilhah seized the opportunity, of course, and began excitedly describing the powerful friendship of Joseph and Pharaoh, King of Egypt. I listened to her with mixed feelings. I was glad she was imbuing my children with love for our patriarchs, just as she’d done for me in my childhood, but I was sorry that I still couldn’t tell them that the patriarch of their tribe was not Joseph, but rather his younger brother Benjamin. I wanted so badly to raise my children without secrets.

  When we finally arrived at Shishak’s palace, I got down from the carriage alone and approached the guards to introduce myself and ask them to call for Hadad the Edomite. To my surprise, they took me right inside and pointed toward the large silhouette standing in the garden in front of the intimidating statues of Pharaoh. Two minutes later, I found myself being crushed between his arms.

  “How did you know I was coming?” I asked.

  “You wanted to surprise me? I nearly passed out when I heard of your escape. What luck that you were able to get out in time. And a job well done by your spies. They’re even better than mine.”

  “I don’t have spies.”

  “Then who told you that Adoram was plotting to kill you?”

  “My good and beloved friend, the one you and Grandmother liked to call the ‘red fox.’”

  Hadad grimaced in disgust. “I’m certain that he planned it together with Adoram so that you would trust him and reveal your secrets to him. Be careful that he doesn’t become your Ahithophel.”

  What he said startled me, but I felt that I could trust my heart, as Mother and Grandmother had told me.

  “What’s wrong with you? Your face has turned as green as the Nile.”

  I knew how to deal with cross-examinations and quickly find the excuse that made the most sense. “I just remembered that the Benjaminite thugs once hinted to me that Ithiel had left the palace under mysterious circumstances, and I’m curious to know what they were referring to.”

  “Rehoboam’s mother is stirring things up just like Bathsheba before her, though she wasn’t endowed with her predecessor’s cunning or cruelty. She notices that there are a few impressive princes walking around the king’s court, overshadowing her sorry little treasure. Bathsheba would have made sure to exterminate them, but Naamah, merciful Ammonite that she is, just throws them out of the palace.”

  “Ithiel is no threat to Rehoboam. He isn’t the son of a king.”

  “But Solomon adopted him as a son, and he glows far more brightly than the hundreds of princes swarming around in that palace. Besides, don’t forget that he’s the spitting image of his grandfather.”

  “Only when it comes to outward appearances.”

  “That’s precisely where we disagree, kid. Listen to me, don’t trust him.”

  “So now you’re calling me ‘kid’ again?” I tried to change the subject. “I thought we were over that a long time ago.”

  “I can’t call you Jeroboam. I t
old your grandmother—that name makes my mouth hurt. But she insisted. Has your family gotten used to it?”

  “My children don’t know about it yet. I think that here of all places, far away from Jerusalem, I’ll be able to tell them everything I’ve been hiding from them all these years.”

  “Not everything. You mustn’t tell them the dangerous secrets quite yet. I have to train them first.”

  “My children will never go through your torture. You’ll have to kill me first.”

  “That’s a very good idea. Your clean tax rebellion is going nowhere anyway.”

  His hard slap on my back almost knocked me to the ground. I grabbed his head in a hug, and we went out to the carriage. Hadad bowed deeply to Elisheba and gave Nadab a sidelong glance.

  “Tall and handsome like a real descendant of Saul,” he whispered to me with satisfaction. “He’ll make an excellent crown prince. The only problem is that his father is playing childish games of rebellion instead of taking the throne by force.”

  “I’m not a traitor like you are,” I replied. I could tell he was hurt by my undisguised criticism of his rebellion against Pharaoh Siamun, but it was important to me to make it clear to him that I would never agree to go to war against my own people.

  I was invited to come alone to dinner with his family. Hadad’s excuse was that it would be better to let Elisheba and the children get settled in their new home in peace, but I understood that he wanted to have a difficult conversation with me. Indeed, the unpleasant topic came up even during the introductions. I bowed to his Egyptian wife, the princess Eno, and before I had a chance to approach his son, whom I had liked instantly, Hadad jumped in between us, pointed to each of us with a flourish, and announced ceremoniously:

  “Genubath son of Hadad, the next king of Edom.”

  “Jeroboam son of Benaiah, the next king of Israel.”

  “You know I’m not the son of Benaiah,” I said with annoyance.

  “We mustn’t speak your father’s name out loud. It’s dangerous.”

  “For how much longer? I’m in Egypt. Solomon’s spies are very far away.”

  “Until you take the throne,” Hadad decreed, and he immediately started up his campaign. He confidently argued that Shishak’s army could quickly defeat Solomon’s soldiers, and that the casualty count would be extremely low. I answered that even if he promised me that not one of my people would be killed, I would still object to an Egyptian invasion of my homeland. I wasn’t about to let a foreign army intervene in our internal affairs.

  “Then what are we going to do?” Hadad sighed. “Wait for Solomon to die? He’s not even sixty yet. His father waged difficult wars and bitter struggles and still lived seventy years, so someone who lies around the palace all day making up proverbs and riddles can certainly live to be a hundred. And what about me? I’m not willing to die before seeing with my own eyes that my son Genubath has taken the throne in the liberated land of Edom.”

  Genubath nodded in agreement, and Eno looked at me suspiciously. I decided to lay out my plan for them and try to convince them that a tax rebellion might not be as fast as a war, but that it could eventually produce a much better outcome. I don’t know what helped more, my speaking skills or my fluent Egyptian, but by the end of the meal Genubath told Hadad that he was willing to wait for the tax rebellion to be taken up by the majority of the tribes of Israel so that the overthrow could be carried out without bloodshed.

  “How long will it take?” asked Eno.

  “I believe that within five years it will all be behind us.”

  “And what if it isn’t?” Hadad asked.

  “Then we’ll wait a little longer,” I said.

  “How much longer?”

  “I don’t know, Hadad, but this is the only way I’m willing to take the throne. If you take a foreign army into Israel, you’ll have to find yourself a different king to liberate Edom.”

  “Or we can liberate Edom by force of arms and make Israel the slaves of Egypt,” Eno said coldly.

  * * *

  Even after everything had been made clear and Genubath and I had become allies, I continued to be concerned about the possibility that the Egyptian army would invade my homeland. My meeting with Shishak only exacerbated my fears. Hadad was surprised that I wasn’t more overwhelmed by the great occasion, for it isn’t every day that a mere mortal comes face-to-face with the Pharaoh. He ascribed my equanimity to the wondrous ability to freeze myself that he had taught me. I explained to him that I’d never gotten too excited about powerful men, even when I was a little boy facing an intimidating commander all alone, and it was all the more the case today, knowing that the blood flowing in my veins was far superior to the blood of the rebel Libyan mercenary warlord.

  “So I gather you’re not enthusiastic about Shishak,” said Hadad.

  “I’m grateful for the refuge he’s providing in his land for me and for my family, of course, but he isn’t going to become my friend.”

  “No matter. What’s important is that you like Genubath.”

  “I’ve got good taste.”

  “I’m not so sure. A man of good taste doesn’t fall in love with the grandson of his father’s killer.” He fixed me with his penetrating gaze and added, “Why do I feel like you’re trying to hide something from me? Whenever I bring him up, your face turns green.”

  I wanted to change the subject, but as had happened with him so often in the past, I found myself a few minutes later giving him a detailed report of the last things I had told Ithiel before we parted.

  He listened to me in shock. His face went pale, and all at once his gaze became vacant of all expression. “You’re insane,” he mumbled. “Completely insane. How did I not see this earlier?”

  “Spare me your fine distinctions,” I replied scornfully.

  I knew I shouldn’t have told Hadad that I’d revealed my secret to Ithiel, and that once I had told him, I needed to understand his concerns and not intensify them with my bitter mockery. Looking back, when I try to reconstruct the harsh quarrel I had with him, the only excuse I can come up with is that the flight from my homeland had brought back some of the poorer qualities of my youth, ones that I had been certain I had gotten rid of permanently. Although I had given my family encouraging examples of our ancestors—Abraham, Jacob, and Moses—who, like us, had been forced to flee their homes, I hadn’t been able to draw comfort from them myself. In Israel, I’d been the venerated commissioner of Ephraim who’d had a mass following and who’d been able to hold his own even against a prophet of God, but here, in Egyptian exile, far from my mother and my people, I had once again become the wounded, intimidated boy Hadad had met twenty years before in Gibeah.

  “I am under an obligation to save your life. I promised your grandmother to protect you at all costs.” There was no anger in his voice, nor censure, but only exhaustion.

  “The person who saved my life was Ithiel. If I’d relied on your spies, I would be a corpse today.”

  “You cannot take any chances. You must become the king of Israel.”

  “And what if I refuse? What if I tell you to forget all about it?”

  “What’s wrong with you, Jeroboam? Has the new name changed you?”

  “Leave me alone, Hadad. I’m thirty-eight years old already. It’s time you stopped meddling in my life.”

  His voice rose gradually, becoming almost a shout. “I can’t not meddle after you told the grandson of the son of Jesse who you are! Why did you do it?”

  “Because I love him.”

  “How can you love the grandson of your father’s murderer?”

  “So what if he’s David’s grandson? Parents eat sour grapes, and the children’s teeth are set on edge?”

  His lips trembled. “You’ve sentenced him to death. I can’t let him live now that you’ve revealed the secret to him.”

  Hadad turned away heavily and made to go. I felt like my hands and feet were bound in iron chains, but I still managed to spring upon him. Though
he was already an older man, his senses were still as sharp as those of someone much younger, and a moment later the two of us were rolling around on the floor. I had no control over what I was screaming at him; the words just came out: “If a single hair of Ithiel’s head falls out, I’ll become your worst enemy. I’ll hunt you down for all time, and I’ll hunt down your wife and son, too. And when I become king, the destruction that David and Joab brought down upon Edom will be nothing compared to what I’ll do. I’ll leave it in ruins and put not only the men to the sword, but the women and children, too.”

  Hadad sank into a sad silence. “Then why don’t you just kill me right here, right now?” he finally murmured.

  I sat down on him and clamped my thighs around his wide waist, and I began to squeeze my fingers around his throat. Then I burst into tears.

  He gave me a broken smile that made my heart ache. “I never wanted to hurt you, kid.”

  I hugged him as tight as I could. Only then did I realize how much I loved him.

  He gave a long sigh. “My hands aren’t as clean as yours. When killing is necessary, one kills; when betrayal is necessary, one betrays. That’s life. But I would never hurt you, and do you know why? Because of your grandmother. She’s the only person in the world to whom I’ve been faithful to the end, unconditionally. I’d give everything up for her, even the liberation of Edom. Don’t ask me why because I’ve got no answer.”

  I felt a lump in my throat, and in the absence of words, I was silent.

  Fourteen

  Solomon died two and a half years later, at the age of fifty-nine. He reigned in Jerusalem for forty years, just like his father. And unlike his father, the days of his life were few and good.

  “His end was gloriously awful, though,” Hadad stated with satisfaction. “Your tax rebellion made his life miserable. When even the tribes of Leah joined the protest and unilaterally reduced the number of forced laborers, he was completely helpless, and he truly lost his mind with rage. That’s what killed him. Had it not been for this clean rebellion, he would have gone on collecting Egyptian horses and foreign women until the age of one hundred and twenty, and they would have had to build many more palaces and stables to house them all.”