Love’s Sacred Song (27 page)

Shiphrah sneered and Sherah stomped, proving Arielah’s goad was finely fashioned. Solomon laughed, and the Shulammites celebrated their maiden’s verbal victory. The twins stepped toward the couple, but Arielah redirected Solomon. “Perhaps we should greet my parents.” The Daughters’ hurried footsteps shuffled behind them.

Arielah let out a frustrated growl, and Solomon chuckled. Life in the palace would be more interesting than ever.

“Shiphrah and Sherah are harmless, beloved, and they really did help their abba Bethuel upholster our wedding carriage.” The fire in Arielah’s eyes told him he’d misspoken. Tapping the tip of her nose, he winked, and her expression softened. He’d spend the rest of his life trying to understand this shepherdess. So far, he’d been as successful as a pigeon reading a scroll.

Jehoshaphat tiptoed into his bedchamber, soundlessly closing the door behind him. As abba of the bride, he’d been honored to host the grand celebration of Solomon’s arrival, but rejoicing with strangers was second choice to spending time with his wife and daughter.

“Good evening, my love,” came the familiar quiet voice on the night air.

His heart still raced at the thought of Jehosheba, the wife of his youth. “I believe it’s almost ‘good morning,’” he said, rolling onto the stuffed mattress. She snuggled into her customary place on his left side, and he drew her closer, hugging her so tightly that surely she could hear his heart. “I’m sorry I woke you, but since you’re awake . . . I have news.”

As usual, his quiet wife had no response. He waited a few moments, enjoying their familiar game of secrets and pauses. After so many years of marriage, he knew she was as eager to hear the news as he was to tell it.

He’d start with the difficult report first. “King Solomon has married ten more brides in the five new moons since he returned to Jerusalem. He now has sixty wives.” The stillness throbbed. Jehosheba’s breathing grew rapid, and he knew she was upset. “So I asked our future son-in-law to honor Arielah with Shunem’s traditional Days of Marriage. Since he’s never celebrated more than Judah’s seven-day wedding feast, I didn’t think he’d agree to give Arielah thirty days.” Jehoshaphat stopped talking, testing his wife’s patience, enjoying their game.

The quiet became unbearable. “And?” she finally asked, jabbing his ribs.

“Ouch!” he said, chuckling and rubbing the tender place on his side. “The king agreed.”

She sat up, staring at him in the moonlight. “King Solomon has agreed to thirty days
and nights
of wedding festivities with one bride? With our Arielah?”

“Ha-ha!” Jehoshaphat grabbed his wife, pulling her back onto the mattress amid a shower of kisses. “Yes, my love. King Solomon will be utterly and completely enthralled with our Arielah for an entire moon’s cycle.” Halting their play, he studied the beauty in his arms. “He may already have sixty wives, but I still believe Arielah could be his last bride. The queen mother seems to favor this marriage too. She’s invited us to use her home on Jerusalem’s western ridge as our own, the place Solomon will come to collect his bride on their wedding day.”

Jehosheba covered her mouth, partially stifling an uncharacteristic squeal. “Our Shulammite relatives will accompany the wedding processional to Queen Bathsheba’s home? Does she know how many people we’ve invited?”

Jehoshaphat laughed out loud and hugged her into the bend of his arm. “I don’t know if she realizes the tribe of Issachar will be camping on her doorstep, but Solomon assures me his ima is extremely gracious.” He kissed her forehead and drew her close again. “I’ve also heard Queen Bathsheba’s abba was a farmer before he became one of David’s Mighty Men. Perhaps this farmer’s daughter turned queen will have some sage advice for our Arielah about life in the palace.” He paused a moment, letting the events of the night settle into his soul. In a voice barely above a whisper, he added, “Benaiah has vowed to protect our little lamb, Jehosheba.”

“And who will protect Benaiah?” she whispered.

He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. “Only God, my love. Only God.”

•
 Song of Solomon 4:1 
•

[Lover] How beautiful you are, my darling! Oh, how beautiful! Your eyes behind your veil are doves.

A
rielah’s eyelids rose to half-mast, wakened from an enchanting dream. A mighty king, accompanied by chariots and soldiers, had swept into Shunem and whisked her away in a glimmering bridal coach. Rolling to her side, she sighed and listened to the sounds of Shunem at dawn. Her dream was real, and today she would begin her journey to Jerusalem.

“Blessings, my beautiful girl.” Ima peeked over the cooking stone wall.

“Good morning.” It was all she could say before emotions tightened her throat. She sat up quickly and then looked down, allowing a tear to fall on the worn cover of her lumpy sleeping mat. She would miss this small space that embodied a lifetime of warmth.

“Come, little lamb.” Jehosheba’s open arms beckoned her, and Arielah rushed into her embrace. “Today you will leave this house, but our love stays with you forever.” Ima held her as fiercely as a man grasps a battle shield.

Arielah’s eyes were squeezed so tightly shut she didn’t see Abba approach.

“Good morning, my lamb.” His voice loosened Jehosheba’s embrace, and Arielah wiped her tears, determined to cry no more on this day of celebration. Though leaving her parents’ home, she dare not mourn and risk Solomon’s misunderstanding.

She rushed to offer him a greeting hug, but he stepped back and fended off her attempt. “What’s this?” she playfully demanded, hands on her hips. “No hug for your daughter on this special day?”

“Come to the mountain with your abba, little shepherdess.” Before she could question further, he turned and was gone.

Slipping on her shepherd’s robe and tattered sandals, she fairly flew to catch up with him. Excitement stirred Shunem’s morning air as most of the residents awoke with the dawn. Cooking fires blazed, and women lingered at the well, sharing whispers and sly glances as the judge and the king’s bride hurried toward the rocky hills of Mount Moreh.

“Where are we going, Abba?” Arielah asked, jogging backward up the hills she knew so well.

“You’ll see, my lamb. You must be patient.” His voice rang with that playful tone she loved.

Arriving at a rocky crevice halfway up the mountainside, abba and daughter nestled close at a familiar cluster of smooth boulders. “We have exchanged our hearts many times at this spot, haven’t we, Abba?” She gazed at his large, calloused hands. Memories overwhelmed her.

He nodded but rushed on with words he seemed to have prepared for this moment. “I long to shelter you from the dangers in Jerusalem, my little lion of God, but I’m giving you to Solomon because I know it is Jehovah’s will.”

“I know, Abba.” Arielah reached over to comfort him, but Jehoshaphat hushed her with a gentle finger to her lips. Reaching beneath his robe, he drew out a richly ornamented golden headband. Chains hung down from an intricate gold weave, dangling coins, precious gems, and pearls, and creating a veil that fell just past her cheeks. “This is part of your dowry, one of the gifts in your shiluhim. It is my gift to you, my lamb, from abba to daughter, separate from the mohar paid by Solomon.”

Arielah couldn’t speak. Her mouth seemed capable of only gulps and quick breaths. She’d heard of daughters receiving a shiluhim, but she’d never seen a headpiece like this.

He fit the golden band around her forehead. “This gift will provide for your future. If Solomon ever . . .” Jehoshaphat paused as if weighing heavy words. “If he ever puts you away, Arielah—if he divorces you—”

“Abba, no! The treaty agreement—”

“I know the agreement provides for your return home, but . . .” His eyes betrayed his breaking heart. “My lamb, I have seen what happens to Solomon in Jerusalem when he succumbs to Ahishar’s deception and the demands of his kingdom. I believe your love will ultimately win the war, but this is protection for the battles you may have to fight along the way.”

Arielah bowed her head, and the coins jingled. When she looked up, she saw Jehoshaphat’s face through the shimmering gold gift. “Abba, I know difficult days await me in Jerusalem, but I also know Solomon’s heart. He desires Jehovah’s best for Israel.” She pulled the gold chains aside and looked intently into his eyes. With as much mettle as she could gather, she added, “And we both know Solomon’s love for me is what’s best for Israel.”

Jehoshaphat hugged her ferociously. “Benaiah will help you as much as he is able, my lamb, but it will be Jehovah’s hand that guides and protects you.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” she said, leaning back to meet his gaze. “Jehovah is much bigger than Benaiah!” Abba and daughter chuckled together, enjoying a lighthearted ending to the difficult truth.

Removing the headpiece, she tucked it in her robe. She didn’t want anyone to glimpse her wedding attire before she appeared for the processional.

“There’s another special gift waiting for you when we return home.”

“Really?” Arielah jumped to her feet, kissed his cheek, and nearly ran down the hills. Abba’s laughter followed her down the rocky path and through the family’s courtyard gate. When they arrived at the house, Jehoshaphat was gasping for air. Amid laughter and deep breaths, abba and daughter found their quiet home suddenly crowded with people.

“Ima, we’re back!” Arielah said, weaving through the frenzied main room. Women were busy packing clothes, jewelry, and supplies as part of Arielah’s shiluhim—the largest gift any Shulammite bride had ever received from her parents.

Arielah looked back at Abba Jehoshaphat. “You said I had another special gift?” She giggled with delight. “All of this looks special to me!” Tossing a corner of sheer blue linen into the air, she coiled herself in it as it floated down.

“Greetings, my lady.” Hannah, a willowy girl from their village, approached her and bowed.

A little dizzy from twirling, Arielah looked behind her to see who the girl was addressing as “my lady.”

Abba laid a steadying hand on her shoulder. “Arielah, Hannah will accompany you to Jerusalem as your handmaid and will serve you all the days of her life.
She
is the special gift I mentioned.”

The young girl bowed again and waited.

Arielah stood motionless. “Abba, no. I . . .” Feeling awkward and utterly embarrassed before the young girl she’d met only a few times at the well, she struggled to show appreciation but decline her abba’s unusual gift. “Thank you, Abba, but I have no need of a maidservant.”

“Arielah.” His voice was firm but kind. “Though Hannah is only thirteen, she has willingly indentured herself to serve you for a lifetime. Her parents have no other income, and I paid them well for Hannah’s service.” Then, almost pleading, he said, “Arielah—she is Abishag’s sister.”

Arielah’s heart leapt to her throat. She knew one of Abishag’s sisters had cared for their sick ima and seldom left their home, but she hadn’t realized the connection with this girl she’d seen sporadically at the well. “But, Abba, who will take care of Hannah’s ima if she comes to Jerusalem with me?”

The girl’s eyes welled with tears. “My little sister will care for Ima, and I promise I will serve you well. I will not search for my sister.” Her gaze quickly returned to the floor, and Arielah saw her wringing her hands.

Jehoshaphat spoke tenderly. “I explained to Hannah and her parents that King Solomon mentioned the love he witnessed between King David and Abishag; however, he didn’t offer more details on the girl’s current standing. I’ve explained that no one in the palace has been forthcoming about Abishag because of the tension surrounding Prince Adonijah’s execution.”

The girl looked up then. “I understand that even though I will live with you in the palace, I still may never see my sister again as long as I live.”

Arielah’s heart squeezed at the truth of the girl’s words. Abba Jehoshaphat had seen many of David’s women while at the palace, but never Abishag.

“The decision is yours, Arielah.” Jehoshaphat spoke quietly. “But remember, you will be a queen and will receive a maidservant when you arrive at the palace—most likely Judean.”

Lord Jehovah!
Fear robbed Arielah’s breath. Of course she would be assigned a Judean maidservant. Why had she never considered it? She was marrying the king of Israel! What if the Daughters of Jerusalem chose her servant?

As she studied the girl before her, a wave of compassion washed away her reservations. “I will take Hannah as my maidservant—and we will try to find Abishag.”

Hannah flew into Arielah’s arms.

Jehoshaphat’s smile was warm as he placed an encouraging hand on Hannah’s shoulder. “I would imagine the new bride of the king could request such a thing.”

“You attend my daughter, and let the king find Abishag,” Jehosheba interrupted, returning everyone’s attention to the upcoming procession. “All the women, into my chambers to prepare the bride!”

Arielah was ushered away, submitting to the skillful hands of loving friends and servants. Hannah worked tirelessly, weaving pearls and strands of gold through Arielah’s long black hair. Others toiled at the bride’s hands and feet, rubbing in salt and scented oils, removing calluses formed by years of labor. Gone were the days of woolen tunics and leather belts, testified to by Ima’s fine stitching on the elegant linen processional robe.

When the last thread was cut and the final pearl woven in place, Arielah lifted her polished bronze mirror. Gasping, she whispered, “Oh, Ima, who is this?” Arielah the shepherdess had become a king’s bride.

A shofar sounded. Solomon was descending from his mountainside camp.

Arielah’s heart pounded as hurried hands polished and primped. Bracelets and brooches were slipped into place, and her head covering formed a sparkling veil. A deep breath. The bedchamber door opened. Arielah stepped into her new world.

Abba met her there, eyes filled with tears. “Your outward beauty is still no match for your magnificent heart.” Leaning close, he whispered, “But it certainly comes close today.”

“Don’t make me cry, or this kohl they’ve smeared around my eyes will run like the Nile in Egypt!”

His laughter helped stem her tide of emotions.

The sound of music drew nearer as the king’s musicians led his procession to the southern city gate. Arielah stepped into the afternoon sun, her hand resting lightly on Abba’s forearm. She bowed to the sounds of gasps and applause.

“I’ve always said she’s the prettiest girl in Shunem,” Edna the matchmaker said. Dear old Ruth offered her familiar wink as Arielah passed. More sentimental tears threatened.

The sounds of flute and lyre grew louder, and tambourines beat out a joyful rhythm. The gentle thud of horses’ hooves declared King Solomon’s imminent arrival. The bride-to-be stood with her family, just as she had more than a year earlier, to meet her king. But today the royal procession seemed to move in slow motion. The fierce Mighty Men on their magnificent stallions drew their swords and extended them like a glistening canopy under which the bridal carriage passed. The other members of the king’s caravan waited near the foothills, ready with their camels and donkeys laden with tents and food for the journey to Jerusalem.

“I don’t see Solomon or the Daughters of Jerusalem.” Arielah couldn’t help the venom in her voice as she whispered to Abba.

The door of the bridal carriage opened, and Solomon’s muscular form unfolded from its center. He seemed thoroughly focused on descending the steps and didn’t see her immediately. When he did, a small gasp escaped his lips. It was the reaction she’d hoped for.

Emanating strength and elegance, Arielah possessed an ethereal grace. The delicate hand of a queen rested on Prince Jehoshaphat’s arm. Instead of satisfaction, however, Solomon felt deeply saddened. His little shepherdess, with her rumpled tunic and dust-streaked face, was gone. The simple manner and earthy beauty he loved had been sacrificed to royal pageantry.

His feet moved without command, and the space between them evaporated. “Greetings, prince of Shunem. May I collect my bride?”

Barely waiting for Jehoshaphat’s nod, Arielah offered not one hand but both.

He enfolded them and stood silently for a moment, their eyes locked in the dance they loved. “How beautiful you are, my darling!” He brushed aside some of the tinkling coins that hung from her headpiece. “Oh, how beautiful! Your eyes behind your veil are doves.” He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand and let his fingers brush through her glossy black hair.

She smiled. “You speak a shepherd’s verse, my love.”

He stared at her as if she were a dream, and then realizing how utterly mesmerized he must appear, he cleared his throat. “Prince Jehoshaphat, may I escort your daughter to her carriage and have a moment alone with her?”

A flutter of unrest rippled over the crowd. Solomon realized he’d misspoken, but how?

Jehoshaphat placed a hand on his shoulder. “In Shunem, as in most of your northern districts
,
a bridegroom does not spend a moment alone with his bride until after they are wed.”

Realizing he had an opportunity to learn and comply with a northern custom, Solomon lifted his head and smiled, careful to speak in a voice all could clearly hear. “I would like to speak with Arielah under the chaperonage of the Daughters of Jerusalem.”