The Secret Book of Kings: A Novel by Yochi Brandes

Author:Yochi Brandes
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9781466888890
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 2016-08-23T04:00:00+00:00

Sixteen

Paltiel forcefully grabbed me and shouted that we shouldn’t go inside. Merab surrendered. She didn’t have the power to resist. But I wouldn’t give in. I hadn’t kissed Mother in many years, and I felt I had to kiss her now. I wanted her to have a last kiss from the younger daughter with whom she’d never been close. I struggled wildly, trying to free myself from the strong arms that were gripping me. Paltiel wouldn’t let go. He wanted me to remember Mother the way she used to be.

The pierced body was buried surreptitiously, wrapped in a thick shroud. We told the servants there was no way we could have a large public funeral for our mother while the bodies of our father and three brothers were hanging on a wall. But that wasn’t the whole truth. We were trying to hide the circumstances of the queen’s death from the people. We hoped they would believe that her heart couldn’t bear the news that the messenger had delivered.

But the rumor spread throughout the land. “Queen Ahinoam fell on her sword,” people whispered in horror, trying to imagine what a woman who has lost her husband and three sons in a single day feels the moment before throwing herself upon the sword. They didn’t know that her faithful maid, who couldn’t bear the extended death throes of her mistress, had pulled the sword out of her belly and pierced her heart in order to put an end to her misery.

Ishvi’s coronation was recorded in the chronicles of Israel as a heartbreaking affair. Not one of the tens of thousands of people that crammed into Gibeah could remain dry-eyed at the sight of the two grieving sisters accompanying their only remaining brother to the royal throne. When Abner son of Ner, commander of the army of Israel, anointed the young prince, great moans rose up out of the crowd, rather than cheers of joy. Only when the new king managed to steady his feet and stand up straight, supported on both sides by his older brothers-in-law, and the people could see that he was no less tall and handsome than his dead father and brothers, did the cries of fealty begin to sound. At first they were quiet, almost hesitant, and then gradually louder, until they filled the streets of Gibeah: “Long live Ishvi son of Saul, King of Israel!”

Over the course of my brother’s sad coronation ceremony, I recalled the moving stories of the ceremony that had been held for my father so many years before, while I was still in my mother’s womb. “We should never have agreed to let Abner fill the role of the prophet Samuel,” I whispered to Rizpah.

She shrugged her skinny shoulders in a gesture of despair. “What choice did we have? Since the death of Samuel, no prophet has been able to command all the tribes of Israel.”

“Any prophet, no matter how small, is better than this man. A man of God should conduct the holy anointment ceremony, not a man of war.

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