The Secret Book of Kings: A Novel

by Yochi Brandes

  “Where did you get that idea?” Ithiel groaned in admiration.

  Hadad laughed with delight. “Why should Jeroboam have the only name with a meaning? Doesn’t Rehoboam deserve the same? Now he can explain proudly that he’s the widest—rahab—of them all, and everyone will finally understand his strange name.”

  “You’re a genius.”

  “My delivery wasn’t good enough,” Hadad said modestly. “We need something short and rhythmic, like a song. The people of Israel will have to spread it all over the country, and quote it with great anger.”

  “This song will be quoted till the end of time,” Ithiel promised. “Trust me.”

  I noted to myself with amazement how, only a few hours ago, Hadad had been prepared to kill Ithiel with his own hands, but now there was friendship, perhaps even love, between them. I didn’t want to put a damper on their joy, but I knew that I had to.

  “I don’t believe Rehoboam would agree to repeat those lines,” I said. “He can’t be that stupid.”

  Ithiel smiled. “Oh, but he is.”

  “That bad?”

  “Much worse.”

  Fifteen

  Mother felt my head, my shoulders, and my face, as if checking me to see if anything was broken. I looked at her, and I couldn’t stop the waves of joy coursing through me at the thought of the rays of sun that would soon be caressing her face.

  “Don’t go to Jerusalem!” she begged. “Stay in Ephraim, my child, please!”

  “I have to stop Rehoboam’s coronation ceremony! It’s my only chance to overthrow him without bloodshed.”

  “And what if his soldiers attack you with swords?”

  “Rehoboam wouldn’t dare hurt me while the nation that loves me so much is right there watching.”

  “The nation?” She spat out the word with scorn and rage. “The nation has a short memory, Jeroboam. They love you today, and tomorrow they’ll love some other leader. This is the same nation that forgot everything King Saul did for it. It’s the same nation that accepted the son of Jesse as its king. It’s the same nation that made your father’s murder possible.”

  “The people will protect me, Mother,” I said.

  When I returned home, I was happy to find the prophet Ahijah the Shilonite waiting there for me. His face shone so brightly that I knelt before him.

  “Forgive me for remaining standing,” Ahijah said, smiling and giving me his hands, “but you don’t allow people to bow to you, or so you said the first time we met.”

  I briefly told him about my experiences in Egypt and gave him a longer description of my meeting with Ithiel and his absolute confidence that the tribe of Judah would accept me as its king. Ahijah listened carefully, then closed his eyes and wrinkled his forehead. I watched him, my heart pounding. I was excited at the possibly that I would see him experiencing a revelation, but to my disappointment nothing about him looked any different. A few minutes later he gave me a sober look and said flatly that no power in the world would be able to attach the tribe of Judah to the Kingdom of Israel. I believed he was wrong, but I didn’t argue with him. Instead, I asked for his blessing as I prepared to go to Jerusalem for my meeting with Rehoboam. Ahijah raised his hands, laid them upon my shoulders, and began saying the words of his blessing, when suddenly Hadad burst in and fell upon both of us with kisses. I told him sternly that Ahijah was a holy man, but Hadad ignored my rebuke, shouting loudly, “All the tribes of Israel are joining your delegation, even the tribes of Leah!”

  Ahijah reacted to the news with equanimity. “Of course,” he said. “All of Israel will follow you, Jeroboam, except for the tribe of Judah alone. You remember the scraps of fabric that I placed in your hand.”

  “I want to tear your cloak, too,” Hadad said pleadingly. “And you will look at the tear and say, ‘This is what God says: “See, I am going to tear Edom out of Solomon’s hand and give it to Genubath son of Hadad of the royal seed.”’”

  Even a serious man like Ahijah wasn’t able to keep a straight face around Hadad. “Great idea,” he laughed. “There’s only one problem: I’m a prophet of the God of Israel. Why don’t you ask your Qos to send you a prophet so that you can tear his cloak?”

  “Our prophets don’t like having their cloaks torn,” Hadad said sorrowfully, and looked over at me. “I envy you. The bumpy road to the throne is much easier when you have a private prophet putting together favorable prophecies for you.”

  Ahijah laughed for the second time in a minute. “I have faith that the scribes of Judah will spoil my favorable prophecies, just as they did Samuel’s. They’ll write in their books that I rejected Jeroboam and prophesied a terrible future for him and his family.”

  “For all I care, they can also write that the Benjaminites joined up with Judah because of their great admiration for Rehoboam, the grandson of their beloved son of Jesse,” Hadad said.

  “That’s something even the scribes of Judah wouldn’t be able to make up,” I chuckled.

  “Oh, but they would,” replied Hadad. “Why not? They’ve got excellent imaginations. I heard they summed up the years of Solomon’s reign in one sentence: The people of Judah and Israel were as numerous as the sand on the seashore; they ate, they drank, and they were happy. But who cares about these lies? We have a lethal weapon fighting against them most effectively.”

  “What weapon?” Ahijah asked curiously.

  “Michal daughter of Saul recruited scribes to work as moles. They disguise themselves as Judean scribes, and they scatter short, cunning sentences throughout Judah’s books, which will reveal the truth to future generations.”

  “We no longer have any need for such a weapon,” proclaimed Ahijah.

  “But you said the scribes of Judah would write terrible lies about Jeroboam,” Hadad said in puzzlement.

  “Let them write whatever they want,” said Ahijah the Shilonite, as he fixed his pure eyes upon me. “Only Judeans will read the books written by the scribes of Judah, while the chronicles that our scribes write will be read by all of Israel.”

  I didn’t argue with him, but deep in my heart I prayed that the Judeans wouldn’t have their own books and that they would eventually join the united Kingdom of Israel, as Ithiel had promised me.

  * * *

  A short while later, I was already on my way to Shiloh to meet the tribal elders so we could travel to Jerusalem together. Cheering people lined the entire route, and when I got to Shiloh the cheering grew much louder. Armed young men from Ephraim surrounded the elders, not letting them mix in with the crowd. In any other circumstances, I would have reprimanded the young guards for their intransigence, but right now the only thing I really cared about was for the journey to go peacefully without anyone getting hurt. The elders gave me an emotional welcome, and the chief elder of Benjamin even burst into tears, telling me that he’d been waiting his entire life for this moment, believing with all his heart that, even though it tarried, it would most certainly come. I wanted to tell him who I really was and amplify his happiness even more, but I was held back by Hadad’s directive not to reveal the secret prematurely. Instead, I said to him and to the other elders that, for now, I was not declaring a rebellion against Rehoboam, but rather only demanding that he lower the tax burden; only after we received his reply would I consider my next steps.

  “We don’t care what Rehoboam does,” the choked-up elder answered. “He can accede to your demands or reject them—it makes no difference at all. Either way, you will be the next king of Israel.”

  Before we set out, I ordered the young men to lay down their weapons and accompany us unarmed. The frightened elders tried to convince me that Rehoboam’s soldiers were liable to attack us before we even entered Jerusalem. Instead of replying, I looked to the crowds that had gathered around us.

  “My brothers, my people!” I called. “I command the young people of Ephraim to join me on the journey to Jerusalem. The tribal elders will ride their horses, and every man under thirty will walk with me on foot.
”

  The young men raced over to me before I could even complete the order, competing against one another to see who could reach me first. A few of them reminded me that I was already forty years old and that I should be riding on horseback with the elders, but I replied with a smile that I still had strength in my loins. By the time we left Shechem, there were already hundreds of escorts surrounding us, and many more joined us in the land of Benjamin. The great parade attracted women and children, too, who brought us water and bread and cheered with great enthusiasm.

  We reached Jerusalem toward evening and traveled through the streets of the city of David. The Judeans watched us with concern, but I didn’t think I detected any signs of hate in their faces. A few of them even smiled at us encouragingly. Shortly afterwards, I presented myself at the palace gates, heading the delegation of elders, as my thousands of young escorts stood quietly behind me, filling the square and all the surrounding streets. I ordered the astonished guards to inform Rehoboam that a delegation of the elders of all the tribes was waiting for him outside. They went in immediately and returned a few minutes later with Adoram, who looked just as I’d remembered him.

  “Shelomoam, Commissioner of Ephraim,” he said. Even his narrow gaze remained as it had been. “You’re a bit late. I summoned you here three years ago.”

  “I ran into a few delays,” I told him. “And by the way, my name is Jeroboam.”

  “Jeroboam son of…?”

  My heart skipped a beat, but my face remained calm. “We will discuss my ancestry another time. Now, we demand to see Rehoboam.”

  “You demand? What a rude word. Why don’t you say ‘ask’? Or, better yet, ‘beg’?”

  “We demand,” I repeated.

  A lengthy silence hung over us. “We’ll leave it at that,” he finally said, trying to sound measured and calm. “Come inside the palace, and I’ll try to arrange a meeting for you with the crown prince.”

  “The meeting will take place outside, before the eyes of the entire nation.”

  Adoram’s tranquil mask fell away all at once. “The crown prince will not be coming out here to you!” he bellowed. “The coronation ceremony will take place in one week, and that will be your opportunity to see him up close in all his glory!”

  I moved to stand beside Adoram and looked to the crowd gathered before me. “Listen carefully to what I tell you, and deliver the message to Rehoboam word for word—do not neglect anything: Rehoboam son of Solomon, your father put a heavy yoke on us, but now lighten the harsh labor and the heavy yoke he put on us, and we will serve you.”

  Adoram’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets. “What is the meaning of and we will serve you? Are you dictating terms to the crown prince?”

  “Most certainly,” I replied. “If he refuses our demand, we will not crown him king.”

  “In another week you will all stand here and bow before him, and you will also be punished for these words that you have spoken. Put a heavy yoke on us?! The harsh labor of your father?! His heavy yoke?! Is this how you speak of the father of the crown prince? Was King Solomon your Pharaoh?”

  “You said it,” I replied, and the crowd laughed uproariously and repeated my words, “You said it!”

  * * *

  Among the crowd that had joined me on my journey by foot to Jerusalem were the four Benjaminite thugs and the members of the gang from Shiloh, my good and dear friends who’d sworn their allegiance to me years ago and were willing to lay down their lives for me now. They advised me not to lead the convoy back through the night because walking for an entire day and night was difficult even for strong and powerful men, and the people would need a good night’s sleep to recover their strength. Since we didn’t feel safe among the Judeans, we kept walking for another hour until we got to the land of Benjamin. I wanted to reach the town of Ramah to pray at the grave of our matriarch Rachel, but my friends suggested stopping somewhere closer, rather than dragging the exhausted people all the way to Ramah. To convince them of why it was so important to me to reach Rachel’s grave, I told them that the Judean scribes had recently begun to spread a new lie claiming that Rachel was actually buried in Bethlehem, the birthplace of the son of Jesse. The Benjaminite thugs were familiar with the story, but the members of the Shiloh gang, who were hearing it for the first time, reacted with utter shock. “The scribes of Judah have long asserted that the patriarchs and matriarchs of Israel are buried in Hebron and not Shechem,” one of them said angrily, “and now they are trying to claim that our very own matriarch is also buried in their land?”

  I eventually took my friends’ advice, and we stopped in the nearby city of Gibeah. The tribal elders stayed in the homes of the city’s wealthy, while the rest of us scattered through the fields and vineyards and lay on the ground to sleep under the open sky. I very much yearned to visit the graves of my father and great-grandfather, but I knew that I mustn’t do so. “You’ve waited for so many years,” I heard Hadad’s words reverberating within me. “So, you can wait a little longer. The worst is behind us.” I thought of the mask that would soon be removed from Mother’s face, and from mine as well, and of the cave of secrets we would be leaving behind, and knew I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep.

  It quickly became clear that I wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyway. Rumor of our arrival had spread all through the land of Benjamin, and the people flocked to be with us and hear from up close what had happened in Jerusalem. The women brought out trays of food, heaped with everything good to eat, and the tall girls of Benjamin danced and danced until the morning light as the excited crowd accompanied them with wild applause and sang along with them. I knew their favorite song well, but the new lyrics filled my eyes with tears:

  Moses freed our ancestors

  From Egyptian slavery,

  Jeroboam will free our sons

  From Jerusalem’s slavery.

  Jeroboam will say to Rehoboam:

  Let Israel go,

  Let my people go.

  Jeroboam will make Israel grow.

  Make my people grow.

  Let Israel go,

  Let my people go.

  In the morning, as we prepared to go on with our journey, I said to my friends with a smile that stopping for the night not only failed to restore our energy, but also made things even worse because, after a full night of dancing and singing, the people were now even more tired than they had been.

  “You don’t need to sleep to restore your energy,” one of the Benjaminite thugs replied. “Anyone who experienced this night will remember it for as long as he lives and will recount it to future generations, almost like the night our ancestors left the house of bondage in Egypt.”

  “Our night of redemption will be celebrated in a week,” I told him, “when we return to Jerusalem to attend the coronation that will not take place.”

  “And what if Rehoboam accedes to our demands?” he asked with concern.

  I couldn’t tell them about my beloved Hushai, who was in the palace at that very moment frustrating the counsel of the elders who were advising Rehoboam.

  * * *

  Elisheba greeted me in tears, saying she couldn’t bear my going to Jerusalem again, especially now that I had become Rehoboam’s declared enemy. I told her about the massive numbers of young men from Ephraim and from Benjamin who had protected me all along the way, and I promised her that this time we would be joined by young men from other tribes as well, maybe even from the tribes of Leah. My answer actually made her anxiety worse.

  “Do you trust them?”

  “Who?”

  “The people of Reuben, Simeon, Issachar, and Zebulun?”

  “You forgot Levi,” I corrected her with a smile.

  “The Levites are our flesh and blood. I trust them completely.”

  “I trust the other sons of Leah, too. I spoke with their tribal elders along the way, and it became clear to me that they loathe the dynasty of the son of Jesse no less than we do. Do you want to hear the song th
at members of the tribe of Reuben composed for Rehoboam’s coronation ceremony?”

  She nodded.

  I picked up our daughter Miriam’s drum, tapping it with my other hand, and singing:

  “We have no share in David,

  No part in Jesse’s son!

  Every man to his tent, Israel!”

  “Who taught you that song?” Elisheba asked excitedly.

  “I told you,” I said, puzzled. “The elders of Reuben. They said that it’s so popular in their land that it has no fewer than four different tunes.”

  She came over, buried her head in my chest, and wrapped her arms around my waist. I could feel her shaking and wrapped my arms around her. “My love,” I whispered. “Remember what Hadad said: the worst is behind us. Only good things will happen to us from now on.”

  “Your grandfather wrote that song,” she whispered.

  I pulled back my head and looked down at her in shock. “Which grandfather?”

  “Sheba son of Bikri.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Mother sang it to me after you found out the truth about Zeruiah and ran away to Jerusalem to become a soldier in the king’s army. It was the rallying cry of Sheba son of Bikri’s rebellion, which spread all through the tribes of Rachel, and then all through the land.”

  “Why didn’t they tell me?”

  “There’s a lot more they didn’t tell you,” I heard Hadad’s powerful voice say from behind me. He’d burst into our room without knocking and looked even happier than he had two days earlier, when he’d informed us that the tribes of Leah were joining our delegation.

  “Forgive the interruption, my dear lovebirds, but you can’t expect me to hold back when I hear about what our Hushai is doing in the palace.”

  “How can your spies already be here with new information? We just got back from Jerusalem.”

  “They are much speedier than your cumbersome convoy.”

  “Do you mean to tell me that Ithiel has already frustrated the elders’ counsel?”