Love’s Sacred Song by Mesu Andrews Read Free Book Online Page A

me, my friend. Recount the exact words you found necessary to gush to the palace cook.”
    “Please, my lord, I offered no details. I just said you wished Judah to rule the northern tribes of Israel.” He paused as though considering whether to tell all.
    Ahishar smiled. Smart fellow. Consider carefully. “I can bring Elisheba down and ask her if you’d prefer.”
    Mahlon’s eyes were wild. “No! I told her the Sons of Judah planned to . . . conquer the Israelites in the north . . . to make Judah a nation . . . royal and powerful.” His begging and hysteria deteriorated until Ahishar’s once refined scribe became a babbling idiot.
    But the high steward felt no compassion. How ridiculous that a highly respected scribe would risk his position, his reputation—even his life—to impress the palace cook. Compassion? No. He felt disgust. This flawlessly dutiful scribe threw away a lucrative career for a few moments of boasting.
    Stroking his patchy beard, Ahishar considered his own carelessness. He should never have conducted the business of the Sons of Judah in the presence of someone like Mahlon. A scribe who mingled with servants was unworthy to enter the secret society’s membership of select palace officials and influential Judean leaders. It was a tight circle of trust, and too much talk could forfeit generations of planning. King Solomon must never discover their existence. He, like King David, was under the impression that Israel should remain a nation of equality among the tribes. If only Adonijah’s coup had succeeded. As leader of the Sons of Judah, he would have immediately declared war on the northern tribes.
    A slow smile crept across Ahishar’s face. Now that Adonijah is gone and I command the Sons of Judah, who would dare challenge me for Judah’s new throne? Perhaps it was to his benefit that Adonijah had failed.
    Mahlon’s piteous moan drew the high steward’s attention, and the scribe resumed his pleading. “As you know, my lord, I too am of the tribe of Judah. I applauded your loyal support of the tribe of Judah to Elisheba. So please, master, have mercy on me, your brother Judean.”
    “Enough!” Ahishar screeched, taking three quick steps to close the gap. With their noses almost touching, Ahishar whispered, “Say one more word and I will cut out your tongue.”
    Mahlon hesitated only a moment. “Yes, my lord.”
    A slow, satisfied chuckle began at the base of Ahishar’s throat. “I did warn you, my friend.” He watched with delight as the realization dawned on his prisoner’s face.
    “No! Please, master, I didn’t mean to say another word!” Mahlon fought the guards valiantly but, of course, to no avail.
    “Hold his jaws apart!” Ahishar shouted over the scuffle. “A mute scribe can still write beautiful letters on a clay tablet.”

    Exhausted, Solomon concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, walking deliberately from the astronomers’ tower near the Valley Gate toward the palace. Benaiah walked with him, and the pounding of the big man’s sandals shook the ground, a familiar cadence that had accompanied him since Abba’s death this morning.
    After leaving David’s bedside, Solomon had thrown himself into pressing matters of state. Time was precious since all work would cease when he announced the thirty-day grieving period tomorrow. Solomon’s final task of the day took him to the celestial experts in the watchtower to discuss his proposed calendar changes. Hoping to reach a decision tonight, since the changes would affect the beginning of Passover, he lifted his eyes to the cloudy sky. “How can I track the path of the moon and stars, Benaiah, when the night is as dark as the tents of Kedar?”
    The captain followed the king’s gaze upward. “It seems even the moon and stars are shrouded to mourn King David’s death.”
    Trudging uphill through the fortress gate, they entered the unwalled portion of the new city. Clouds cleared, and the moon shone