Love’s Sacred Song (20 page)

Abba’s tender smile seemed perfectly at ease, but Arielah wanted to scream,
Your name? Your name is Solomon! Of course he knows your name!

But before her confusion could root and grow, Abba whispered, “Nathan must have told you of the name Jehovah issued the night of your birth.”

Arielah saw tears pool in the king’s eyes. “How did you know?”

Abba placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Your abba and I met only a few times, but we shared deeply about our God and our sons.” Pausing only a moment, he added, “He knew you were loved by God, Jedidiah.”

Prickly flesh raised the hairs on Arielah’s arm as a warm breeze anointed the moment.
Jedidiah
, she repeated silently while her Abba continued. “My Arielah’s birth was surrounded by similar blessing, King Solomon. She is loved. She is chosen. And next year she will be yours.” The two bowed, no doubt to Jehovah rather than each other. “You may choose any of the meadows of Shunem to graze your flocks,” Abba said. “Our quiet pastures have much to offer a man seeking the peace of God’s presence.”

“Thank you, my friend,” Solomon said. “I look forward to a little time of God’s reassuring presence.” Nodding to Jehoshaphat and Arielah, he said, “Until tonight’s banquet then.”

“Before you go . . .” Arielah’s voice sounded small amid the lingering commotion of mohar camels and bustling servants. “May I ask one thing of the king before he retires to his camp?”

The warmth of his gaze enfolded her like a woolen blanket, giving her permission to speak.

“Will you send a messenger to tell me where you graze your flocks, so that I may join you tomorrow for a meal when you rest your sheep at midday?”

He laughed, and humiliation immediately colored her cheeks. She looked away, but he turned her chin with a gentle nudge. “Beautiful Arielah, I am not a shepherd king like my abba David. The royal shepherds tend my flocks, but I would be pleased to see you at midday.” He released her chin, and his eyes grew distant. He signaled his servants toward a southern meadow, his mind obviously shifting to the tasks at hand. “I’m sure my tent won’t be hard to find. You can ask any of my guards when you arrive tomorrow, and they’ll direct you.”

The Daughters of Jerusalem smiled triumphantly. “Yes, little shepherdess. You can just wander among the herders until you find us.”

“I will
not
wander among your tents, my lord!” Arielah’s venom snapped the king’s head to attention. “I may not be jeweled and lotioned like a queen, but neither will I go from one tent to the next like a red-veiled woman on her nightly rounds.”

Solomon appeared too shocked to answer, but Shiphrah spoke before he could. “If you can’t find King Solomon’s tent, oh
beautiful
Shulammite, why not bring your abba’s goats and herding dogs? Surely they’re smart enough to follow the tracks of King Solomon’s flocks.”

“Enough,” Solomon said, casting disapproving frowns at all of them. “Shiphrah and Sherah, you will speak to Arielah respectfully, giving her the honor of a newly betrothed bride to the king.” Casting a quick glance at Jehoshaphat, he said, “I’ll say no more since I know better than to involve myself in women’s issues. I saw verbal battles in Abba’s harem deteriorate into nail-scratching, hair-pulling massacres.”

The Daughters of Jerusalem lowered their heads, feigning repentance. But a silent threat cast at Arielah promised more trouble in days to come.

With a deep sigh, Solomon turned his full attention to Arielah. “I meant no disrespect, asking that you venture to my camp unescorted.” He fell silent, seeming intent on her response. Could it be he actually cared that she might be offended? “I meant no disrespect, Arielah. Please, forgive me.”

In the stillness of that moment, she could hear only her racing heart. “I forgive you, my king.”

As he brushed her cheek with the back of his hand, she felt his warmth, saw tenderness in his deep brown eyes. Lifting his voice for the lingering Shulammites, he shouted, “Arielah is like a mare harnessed to one of the chariots of Pharaoh.” Shiphrah and Sherah smugly crossed their arms, and Arielah wondered if she was about to be embarrassed again. “When Pharaoh gave me his prize mare with a battle chariot, he explained the brilliant war strategy of the combination. When the Egyptian mare led the chariot into battle, the enemy stallions broke into complete disarray.” Stepping close, he whispered, “Just as it seems you’ve thrown my heart and household into a frenzy, beloved.” The scent of saffron lingered when he stepped away.

“You called me
beloved
.” She breathed the word reverently.

He laughed again, but this time she laughed with him. “I bring you all the treasures of a mohar
,
and yet you receive a simple word as more precious than gold.” Turning to Jehoshaphat, he said, “Your daughter is the true treasure, Prince of Shunem.” Playfully he swept his fingers through the chains dangling from her temples. The sound of rubies tinkled on the breeze. “You look beautiful in the head covering, Arielah, but it’s nothing compared to the earrings of gold and silver I will give you. You will have sapphires, topaz, emeralds, and onyx—jewelry from every nation.”

Words meant to thrill, or at least impress, left her cold after his warm touch. “I need no such bounty, my lord.” She bowed dutifully, noting Solomon’s puzzlement when she arose.

“What is this?” he asked Jehoshaphat, playfully annoyed. “I call her
beloved
, and she adores me. I offer her jewels, and she defers?”

“I warn you, King Solomon,” Abba said with a glint in his eyes, “Arielah is like no woman you’ve ever known. My little lamb has a lion’s heart.”

Solomon captured her with his gaze. “I look forward to the challenge, Prince Jehoshaphat,” he said wryly. “The women in my world are the spice that gives life flavor.”

•
 Song of Solomon
1:12; 2:2–3, 6–7 
•

[Beloved] While the king was at his table, my perfume spread its fragrance. . . .

[Lover] Like a lily among thorns is my darling among the maidens.

[Beloved] Like an apple tree among the trees of the forest is my lover among the young men. . . . His left arm is under my head, and his right arm embraces me. Daughters of Jerusalem . . . do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires.

A
rielah would remember last night for the rest of her life. This morning’s sun cast golden rays on the papyrus document she held aloft. Those tiresome days of practicing words in clay tablets with Kemmuel and Igal were suddenly worth every excruciating moment. She gently caressed the scroll that her family would guard until her wedding day.

On this, the eighth day of the month of Iyar, in the city of Shunem, the honorable King Solomon—may Jehovah bless and protect him—enters into this wedding treaty with Arielah, the daughter of the worthy Jehoshaphat, elder of Shunem and prince of Israel’s tenth district. Let Solomon the son of David, with the help of heaven, honor, support, and maintain her.

Let this treaty seal our betrothal, my promise to return to Shunem in no less than one year, when I will claim Arielah as my wife according to the law of Moses and Israel. In accordance with the custom of Israelite husbands, who fulfill the responsibilities of their position in truth, I will provide for her clothing, her ransom, and her burial. Furthermore, I, King Solomon, give flocks, fine linen, gold and silver jewelry, and every kind of precious stone as mohar in payment to the house of Jehoshaphat, the totals of which are listed below . . .

Arielah’s eyes stung with tears at the memory. Happy tears. Frightened tears. She inspected the transparent drops and marveled that they looked the same—no matter the emotion.
Why don’t I cry blue tears for sorrow and yellow ones for joy?
Why couldn’t a wedding be as simple as tears? Unadorned, transparent. Why couldn’t she and Solomon promise their love in a meadow? Instead, gold and jewels guaranteed a yearlong betrothal, and fine robes would bind them in a public wedding in Jerusalem. A deep sigh. Then a giggle. Delight quickly replaced her newly betrothed impatience, and she lingered on her sleeping mat way past the rooster’s crow.

At dawn, Ima had peeked around the cooking stones to Arielah’s private sleeping corner. “Rest a while longer, my lamb.” Then the familiar sounds of clicking spoons and rattling pots began while Ima set about her daily tasks. The aroma of her efforts swirled into the memories of last night’s banquet, wrapping Arielah in the familiar and the fanciful.

King Solomon!
Arielah stifled a squeal.
I am going to marry King Solomon!
She remembered every angle and detail of his masculine face, his raven hair resting on the fox-fur collar of his royal robe.

“I stand before Prince Jehoshaphat and the people of Shunem to complete my vow and return to Shunem with my royal procession and claim Arielah as my bride.” He’d called her his bride.

But the next words had nearly rendered her speechless, and even this morning sent prickles up her spine. “In the unlikely event of our divorce,” he read from the treaty agreement, “I guarantee safe return to her abba’s household with her bridal dowry intact.” Solomon bowed, and the Shulammites’ deafening cheer should have assured Arielah that the king’s comment was simply a formality, included in all wedding arrangements
.
But the word still resounded in her ears.
Divorce.

The morning sun shone through the window above her sleeping mat. She raised her hand, letting her new gold ring sparkle in the sun’s rays. The simple symbol of Solomon’s promise strengthened her heart. She hugged it to her chest and giggled, remembering poor Benaiah’s expression when Solomon had chosen him as friend of the bridegroom. Shocked yet honored. The mountainous man stepped forward to affix his signature to the treaty. Reu’s face had mirrored Benaiah’s when Abba asked him to sign the document as witness for the bride’s family.

Then she remembered Solomon’s warm brown eyes and tender voice. “Jehoshaphat, I give this ring to your daughter as a testimony of our betrothal, our contract of marriage.” Taking the simple gold band from a hidden pocket in his robe, he called her forward.

Finally
, she remembered thinking,
something as simple as me.

The king’s luxurious black tent grew as quiet as a tomb. Holding the ring in the air, he said, “Arielah, my beloved, do you accept this ring and the mohar, thereby sealing our betrothal?”

“Oh yes!” she cried almost before he finished asking.

Solomon’s rich, deep laughter filled the tent, and their guests joined in. “For a simple gold band, you rejoice as though I’ve given you the world!” Then he brushed her cheek with the back of his hand and sent fire rushing through her body.

“If you keep daydreaming about last night, the king’s meal will turn cold.” Her ima’s sweet face peeked over the cooking stones.

“But surely it’s not midday already!” Arielah leapt from her mat, her cheeks burning.
Oh my!
She hoped Ima wasn’t reading her mind again!

Jehosheba chuckled and held out a full basket of food. “Indeed, it is nearly midday, my lamb, and you’ve enjoyed dreams of your Solomon all morning—as a newly betrothed maiden should.”

Giddy, she kissed Ima’s cheek, splashed water on her face, and whispered her thanks. She scurried through their courtyard gate with the food basket over her arm, then passed the matchmaker and old Ruth just in time to hear their conversation.

“Did you see the lovely wedding garments the king brought for Jehoshaphat and Jehosheba, Edna?” Ruth’s heart was as tender as a sun-ripened fig. “Appropriate gifts for good people.”

“I wore a simple linen robe with an embroidered belt to my daughter’s wedding,” Edna groused. “And I had to stitch the embroidery on the belt myself!”

All of Shunem wondered at old Ruth’s patience with the crabby matchmaker. Arielah listened with a half smile. She knew there would always be grumblers in the midst of celebrating. Inhaling deeply of Shunem’s fresh air, she giggled at the mingling aroma of henna blossoms and sheep manure.
Like joy and jealousy, inseparable realities in my little town.
Her laughter earned a sideways glance from the old women as she hurried past.

The rolling green hills outside the city wall exploded with wildflowers, and the men were well into their day of barley and flax harvest. As she skipped through the familiar meadows, her heart thrilled in anticipation of her quiet visit with the king. She couldn’t wait to see his face light up at the contents of her basket—roast quail with curdled milk, fresh flatbread, warm raisin cakes, lentil stew, goat cheese, figs, and other country delicacies.

Making her way toward the royal encampment, Arielah spotted Solomon sitting beneath a fir tree, next to the eastern grazing hill. His eyes were focused in a distant stare, and her carefree thoughts gave way to deep concern.
He looks like a lost lamb.

As though responding to her silent care, Solomon looked up and saw her. Arielah waved, and the joy she anticipated appeared. “Shall we simply float away on a cloud, my king?” she shouted across the meadow.

He stood to greet her, and—was it her imagination?—he seemed to drink in the sight of her. Did all soon-to-be brides think their men felt this way?

The Daughters of Jerusalem lounged just a camel’s length behind him on a tapestry that looked tawdry on Shunem’s lush meadow. Arielah offered a perfunctory nod to their chaperones.
They are like shadows
,
relentless and dark.
She turned and bowed to her betrothed. “Greetings from the house of Jehoshaphat. The prince of Shunem has sent delicacies for the king.” Mischief escaped before she could capture it. “He also sent this basket of food.”

Solomon’s laughter rang through the hills. He swept his arms wide and returned her playful banter. “Please display your
delicacies
before me, daughter of Jehoshaphat.” Their eyes met and danced—as was becoming their custom.

“Someday, King Solomon, my delicacies will fill every desire of your heart.” Pausing, she lifted one eyebrow. “Until that day, my ima’s cooking will have to suffice.”

He clutched at his chest as though wounded. “Woman, I feel like Moses. You’ve offered me the Promised Land but refused me entry!” He fell to his braided rug, feigning injury.

Arielah smiled as she knelt and began unpacking their midday meal, but the memory of his refusal to marry still pricked her heart. “It was not I who chose to wait, my king,” she said, matching his playful grin. “Perhaps
I
am Moses and
you
are the Promised Land.”

Once again she had shocked him. His eyes widened, and he laughed until tears rolled down his cheeks. “I suppose you’re right, beloved, but you will be mine after your abba completes his goodwill tour among the northern tribes.” His gaze grew more intense, probing, and Arielah felt her cheeks burn.

Glancing away, she noticed the disapproving stares of the Daughters of Jerusalem. She had undoubtedly broken every unwritten law of the women’s court, and her momentary glimpse seemed to summon them from their chaperone’s perch.

With three quick strides, Sherah was at Solomon’s left side, kneeling over the freshly unpacked meal. “Although I’m sure your food is adequate, we must evidently remind you that our king trusts only the provisions of his own fields and flocks.”

When Arielah ignored her intrusion, Shiphrah halted Arielah’s hand from arranging the fruit. “We’ll help you return the food to your basket, little shepherdess.” The older twin spoke slowly as if Arielah were a dim-witted sheep, and then she reached for the wooden plates Arielah had arranged on the king’s braided rug.

Solomon cleared his throat, and Shiphrah’s hand froze.

Arielah held her breath. Would he refuse Ima’s food or deter the Daughters’ intrusion?

“Shiphrah, Sherah, I’m sure the bounty Arielah offers can satisfy me as well as any provisions from Jerusalem.”

Arielah slowly lifted her gaze, struggling to speak past the lump in her throat. “What I offer can supply every desire of your heart, my king, if only you will promise me your whole heart in return.” No games this time, no mischief or teasing. She would tell him from the start that she desired all of him, not just a harem wife’s portion.

She watched his smile fade and his eyes grow cold. His voice was calm yet commanding when he spoke. “Shiphrah and Sherah, you will leave us now.” Solomon’s stare unnerved her while the Daughters of Jerusalem gathered their tapestry and moved a stone’s throw away—further than the laws of chaperonage allowed.

Arielah looked down, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze.

“You want my whole heart,” he said.

She glanced up, hopeful. But his expression remained chiseled stone.

“You offered to supply my every desire. Isn’t that what you said?” He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand and continued down her neck. Yesterday the same gesture had warmed her heart, but today it filled her with fear. With one swift motion, he cradled her in one arm and cupped her face roughly with his hand. Their lips lingered dangerously close, and then his hand traveled down her neck, over her shoulder, down her arm.

Panic gripped her, sending a chill up her spine, and she whimpered.

His eyes narrowed and his grip tightened. Lifting her hand to his lips, he kissed her fingertips and smiled hungrily.

She was trembling uncontrollably, and a shadow of revulsion swept across his features. Suddenly the king gripped her shoulders and sat her upright. He leaned back as if having just concluded a routine ruling at court. “How can you imagine that one woman could quench my desires,” he said flatly, “when no one knows what pleases a king?”

Arielah stared into the eyes of a stranger. With her simple statement, she had hoped to gain his loyalty. Instead, she’d awakened a callousness in Solomon that she never dreamed possible. Perhaps that was the problem. She had loved Solomon for as long as she could remember, but she hardly knew him. Had she been in love with merely a dream of him?

A simple statement had never had such an effect on Solomon—nor had a simple maiden.
If only you will promise me your whole heart in return.
Gooseflesh raised on his arms. How had their playful teasing turned to unreasonable demands? Jehoshaphat had made a similar comment during negotiations. “Perhaps Arielah could be your last wife,” he’d said. Arielah and her abba seemed to have an unrealistic view of a king’s obligations. If this girl believed the king of Israel could love her like a Shulammite shepherd boy would, she was sorely mistaken. His only defense against her innocent charm had been to feign the manners of a Philistine and paw at her as if she’d been a nameless woman in his bedchamber. Many maidens had whispered longingly in his ear, each having her own agenda for his affection. But he’d never feared he might yield to their wishes—until now.