Part 2

Then Solomon utters in a voice that caresses the ear:

“Maiden, show me thy face; let me hear thy voice anew.”

She straightens up quickly and turns her face to the king. A strong wind arises at this second and flutters the light garment upon her, suddenly making it cling tightly around her body and between her legs. And the king, for an instant, until she turns her back to the wind, sees all of her beneath the raiment, as though naked,--tall and graceful, in the vigorous bloom of thirteen years; sees her little, round, firm breasts and the elevations of her nipples, from which the cloth spreads out in rays; and the virginal abdomen, round as a bason; and the deep line that divides her legs from the bottom to the top, and there parts in two, toward the rounded hips.

“For sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance comely,” says Solomon.

She draws nearer and gazes upon the king with trembling and with rapture. Her swarthy and vivid face is inexpressibly beautiful. Her heavy, thick, dark-red hair, into which she has stuck two flowers of the scarlet poppy, covers her shoulders in countless resilient ringlets and spreads over her back, and, transpierced by the rays of the sun, glows in flame, like aureate purple. A necklace which she had made herself out of some red, dried berries, naïvely winds twice about her long, dark, slender neck.

“I did not notice thee!” she says gently, and her voice sounds like the song of a flute. “Whence didst thou come?”

“Thou sangst so well, maiden!”

She bashfully casts down her eyes and turns red, but beneath her long lashes and in the corners of her lips trembles a secret smile.

“Thou sangst of thy dear. He is as light as a roe, as a young hart upon the mountains. For he is very fair, thy dear,--is not that the truth, maiden?”

Her laughter is ringing and musical, as though silver were falling upon a golden platter.

“I have no dear. It is but a song. I have yet had no dear....”

For a minute they are silent, and intently, without smiling, gaze at each other.... Birds loudly call one another among the trees. The maiden’s bosom quickly rises and falls under the worn linen.

“I do believe thee, beautiful one. Thou art so fair....”

“Thou dost mock me. Behold, how black I am....”

She lifts up her small, dark arms, and the broad sleeves lightly slide down towards her shoulders, baring her elbows, that have such a slender and rounded outline.

And she says plaintively:

“My brethren were angry with me; they made me the keeper of the vineyard,--and now behold how the sun hath scorched me.”

“O, nay, the sun hath made thee still more fair, thou fairest among women. Lo, thou hast smiled,--and thy teeth are like white twin-lambs, which come up from the washing, and none among them hath a blemish. Thy cheeks are like the halves of a pomegranate within thy locks. Thy lips are scarlet,--yea, pleasant to gaze upon. As for thy hair ... Dost know what thy hair is like? Hast thou ever beheld a flock of sheep come down from Mount Gilead at eve? It covers all the mountain, from summit to foot, and from the light of the evening glow and from the dust it seems even as ruddy and as wavy as thy locks. Thine eyes are as deep as the two fishponds in Heshbon, by the gate of Bath-rabbim. O, how fair art thou! Thy neck is straight and graceful, like the tower of David!...”

“Like the tower of David!” she repeats in rapture.

“Yea, yea, thou fairest among women. A thousand bucklers hang upon the tower of David, all shields of vanquished chieftains. Lo, I hang my shield also upon thy tower....”

“O, speak on, speak on....”

“And when thou didst turn around in answer to my call, and the wind arose, I did see beneath thy raiment thy two nipples and methought: Here be two young roes that are twins, which feed among the lilies. This thy stature was like to a palm tree, and thy breasts to clusters of grapes.”

The girl cries out faintly, hides her face with her palms, and her bosom with her elbows, and blushes so that even her ears and neck turn crimson.

“And I saw thy hips. They are shapely, like a precious vase, the work of the hands of a cunning workman. Take away thy hands, therefore, maiden. Show me thy face.”

She submissively let her hands drop. A deep, golden radiance glows from the eyes of Solomon and casts a spell over her, makes her head dizzy, and in a sweet, warm tremour streams over the skin of her body.

“Tell me, who art thou?” she says slowly, in perplexity. “Never have I seen any like to thee.”

“I am a shepherd, my beauty. I graze my splendid flocks of white lambs upon the mountains, where the green grass is pied with narcissi. Wilt thou not come with me, unto my pasture?”

But she quietly shakes her head:

“Canst thou think that I will believe this? Thy face has not grown rough from the wind, nor is it scorched by the sun, and thy hands are white. Thou hast on a costly chiton, and the buckle upon it is worth the yearly rental that my brothers bring for our vineyard to Adoniram, the king’s tax-gatherer. Thou hast come from yonder, from beyond the wall. Thou art, surely, one of the men near to the king? Meseems I saw thee once upon the day of a great festival; I even remember running after thy chariot.”

“Thou hast guessed it, maiden. It is hard to be hid from thee. And verily, why shouldst thou be a wanderer nigh the flocks of the shepherds? Yea, I am one of the king’s retinue. I am the chief cook of the king. And thou didst see me when I rode in the chariot of Ammi-nadib on the gala-day of Passover. But why dost thou stand distant from me? Draw nearer, my sister! Sit down here upon the stones of the wall and tell me something of thyself. Tell me thy name.”

“Sulamith,” she says.

“Then, Sulamith, why have thy brothers grown wroth with thee?”

“I am ashamed to speak of it. They received moneys from the sale of their wine, and sent me to the city to buy bread and goat-cheese. But I ...”

“And thou didst lose the money?”

“Nay, still worse....”

She bends her head low and whispers:

“Besides bread and cheese I bought a little of attar of roses,--oh, so little!--from the Ægyptians in the old city.”

“And thou didst keep this from thy brethren?”

“Yea....”

And she utters in a barely audible voice:

“Attar of roses hath so goodly a smell!”

The king caressingly strokes her little rough hand.

“Surely, thou must be lonesome, all alone in thy vineyard?”

“Nay, I work, I sing.... At noon food is brought me, and at evening one of my brothers relieves me. At times I dig for the roots of the mandragora, that look like little mannikins.... The Chaldæan merchants buy them from us. It is said they make a sleeping potion out of them.... Tell me, is it true that the berries of the mandragora help in love?”

“Nay, Sulamith, only love can help in love. Tell me, hast thou a father or a mother?”

“Only a mother. My father died two years ago. My brethren are all older than I,--they are from the first marriage; only my sister and I have sprung from the second.”

“Is thy sister as comely as thou?”

“She is little. She is but nine.”

The king laughs quietly, embraces Sulamith, draws her to him, and whispers into her ear:

“Therefore, she hath no such breast as thine? A breast as proud, as warm?...”

She is silent, burning with shame and happiness. Her eyes glow and grow dim, with the mist of a happy smile over them. The king feels the riotous beating of her heart within his hand.

“The warmth of thy garments hath a goodlier smell than myrrh, than nard,” he is saying, avidly touching her ear with his lips. “And when thou breathest, the smell of thy nostrils is like that of apples unto me. My sister, my beloved, thou hast ravished my heart with one glance of thy eyes, with one chain of thy neck.”

“O, gaze not upon me!” implores Sulamith. “Thine eyes stir me.”

But of her own accord she bends backward and lays her head upon Solomon’s breast. Her lips glow over the gleaming teeth, her eyelids tremble with intense desire. Solomon’s lips cling greedily to her enticing mouth. He feels the flame of her lips and the slipperiness of her teeth, and the sweet moistness of her tongue; and he is all consumed of an unbearable desire, such as he has never yet known in his life.

Thus passes one minute; then two.

“What dost thou with me!” says Sulamith faintly, closing her eyes.

But Solomon passionately whispers near her very mouth:

“Thy lips, O my spouse, drop as the honeycomb; honey and milk are under thy tongue.... O, come away with me, speedily. Here, behind the wall, it is dark and cool. None shall see us. The green is soft here underneath the cedars.”

“Nay, nay, leave me. I desire it not, I can not.”

“Sulamith ... thou dost desire it, thou dost desire it.... Come to me, my sister, my beloved!”

Some one’s steps resound below, upon the highway, below the wall of the vineyard, but Solomon detains the frightened girl by her hand.

“Tell me, quickly,--where dwellest thou? This night shall I come to thee,” he is hurriedly saying.

“Nay, nay, nay ... I shall not tell thee this. Let me go. I shall not tell thee.”

“I shall not let thee go, Sulamith, till thou dost tell.... My desire is unto thee!”

“It is well, I shall tell thee.... But first promise not to come this night.... Also, come thou not the following night ... nor the night after that ... My king! I charge thee by the roes and the hinds of the field, that thou stir not up thy beloved till she please!”

“Yea, I pledge thee this.... Where is thy dwelling, Sulamith?”

“If on the way to the city thou dost pass over the Kidron, upon the bridge above Siloam, thou shalt see our dwelling nigh the spring. There are no other dwellings there.”

“And which is thy window there, Sulamith?”

“Why shouldst thou know this, beloved? O, gaze not thus upon me. Thy gaze casts a spell over me.... Do not kiss me.... Beloved! Kiss me again....”

“But which is thy window, my only one?”

“The window on the south side. Ah, I must not tell thee this.... A small, high window with a lattice.”

“And doth the lattice open from within?”

“Nay, it is a fixed window. But around the corner is a door. It leads directly into the room where I sleep with my sister. But thou hast promised me!... My sister sleeps lightly. O, how fair art thou, my beloved! Truly, hast thou not promised?”

Solomon quietly smoothes her hair and cheeks.

“I shall come to thee this night,” he says insistently. “At midnight I shall come. Thus, thus shall it be. I desire it.”

“Beloved!”

“Nay. Thou shalt await me. But have no fear, and put thy trust in me. I shall cause thee no grief. I shall give thee such joy compared with which all things upon earth are without significance. Now farewell. I hear them coming after me.”

“Farewell, my beloved ... O, nay, go not yet! Tell me thy name,--I know it not.”

For a moment, as though undecided, he lowers his lashes, but immediately raises them again.

“The King and I have the same name. I am called Solomon. Farewell. I love thee.”

V.

Radiant and joyous was Solomon upon this day, as he sat upon his throne in the hall of the House at Lebanon and meted out justice to the people who came before him.

Forty columns, four in a row, supported the ceiling of the Hall of Judgment, and they were all faced with cedar and terminated in capitals in the form of lilies; the floor consisted of cypress boards, all of a piece; nor was the stone upon the walls to be seen anywhere for the cedar finish, ornamented with gold carving, shewing palms, pineapples, and cherubim. In the depth of the hall, with its triple-tiered windows, six steps led up to the elevation of the throne, and upon each step stood two bronze lions, one on each side. The throne itself was of ivory with gold incrustation and with elbow-rests of gold, in the form of recumbent lions. The high back of the throne was surmounted by a golden disc. Curtains of violet and purple stuffs hung from the ceiling down to the floor at the entrance to the hall, dividing off the entry, where between the columns thronged the plaintiffs, supplicants, and witnesses, as well as the accused and the criminals under a strong guard.

The king had on a red chiton, while upon his head was a simple, narrow crown of sixty beryls, set in gold. At his right hand stood the throne for his mother, Bathsheba; but of late, owing to her declining years, she rarely showed herself in the city.

The Assyrian guests, with austere, black-bearded faces, were seated along the walls upon benches of jasper; they had on garments of a light olive colour, broidered at the edges with designs of red and white. While still at home, in their native Assyria, they had heard so much of the justice of Solomon that they tried to let no single word of his slip by, in order to tell later of the judgment of the King of the Israelites. Among them sat the commanders of Solomon’s armies, his ministers, the governors of his provinces, and his courtiers. Here was Benaiah, at one time executioner to the king; the slayer of Joab, Adonijah, and Shimei,--a short, corpulent old man, with a sparse, long, gray beard; his faded, bluish eyes, rimmed by red lids that seemed turned inside out, had a look of senile dullness; his mouth was open and moist, while his fleshy, red lower lip drooped down impotently, and was slightly trembling. Here also were Azariah, the son of Nathan,--a jaundiced, tall man, with a lean, sickly face and dark rings under his eyes; and the good-natured, absent-minded Jehoshaphat, historiographer; and Ahishar, who was over the court of Solomon; and Zabud, who bore the high title of the King’s Friend; and Ben-Abinadab, which had Taphath, the eldest daughter of Solomon, to wife; and Ben-Geber, the officer over the region of Argob, which is in Bashan: to him pertained threescore cities, surrounded by walls, with gates of brasen bars; and Baanah, the son of Hushai, at one time famed for his skill in casting a spear to the distance of thirty parasangs; and many others. Sixty warriors, their helmets and shields gleaming, stood in a rank to the left of the throne and the right; their head officer this day was the handsome Eliab, of the black locks, son of Ahilud.

The first to come before Solomon with his complaint was one Achior, a lapidary by trade. Working in Bel of Phoenicia he had found a precious stone, had cut and polished it, and had asked his friend Zachariah, who was setting out for Jerusalem, to give the stone to his--Achior’s--wife. After some time Achior also returned home. The first thing that he asked about upon beholding his wife was the stone. But she was very much amazed at her husband’s question, and repeated under oath that she had received no stone of any sort. Whereupon Achior set out for an explanation to his friend Zachariah, but he asseverated, and also to an oath, that he had, immediately upon arrival, given the stone over as instructed. He even brought witnesses, who affirmed having seen Zachariah give the stone in their presence to the wife of Achior.

And now all four,--Achior, Zachariah, and the two witnesses,--were standing before the throne of the King of Israel.

Solomon gazed into the eyes of each one in turn and said to the guard:

“Lead each one to a separate chamber, and lock up each one apart.”

And when this was done, he ordered four pieces of unbaked clay to be brought.

“Let each one of them,” willed the king, “fashion out of clay that form which the stone had.”

After some time the moulds were ready. But one of the witnesses had made his mould in the shape of a horse’s head, as precious stones were usually fashioned; the other, in the shape of a sheep’s head; only two of them--Achior and Zachariah--had their moulds alike, resembling in form a woman’s breast.

And the king spake:

“Now it is evident even to one blind that the witnesses are bribed by Zachariah. And so, let Zachariah return the stone to Achior, and together with it pay him thirty shekels, of this city, of law costs, and give ten shekels to the priests for the temple. As for the self-revealed witnesses, let them pay into the treasury five shekels each for bearing false witness.”

Three brothers then drew nigh to Solomon’s throne; they were at court about an inheritance. Their father had told them before his death: “That ye may not quarrel at division, I myself shall apportion ye in justice. When I die, go beyond the knoll that is in the midst of the grove behind the house, and dig therein. There shall ye find a box with three divisions: know, that the topmost is for the eldest brother; the middle one for the second; the lowest for the youngest.” And when, after his death, they had gone, and had done as he had willed, they had found that the topmost division was filled to the top with golden coins, whereas in the middle one were lying only common bones, and in the lowest naught but pieces of wood. And so among the younger brothers arose envy for the eldest, and enmity; and in the end their life had become so unbearable that they decided to turn to the king for counsel and judgment. And even here, standing before the throne, they could not refrain from mutual recriminations and affronts.

The king shook his head, heard them out, and spake:

“Cease quarreling; a stone is heavy, and the sand weighty, but a fool’s wrath is heavier than them both. Your father was, it is plain to see, a wise man and a just, and he has expressed his wishes in his testament just as clearly as though it had been consummated before an hundred witnesses. Is it possible that ye have not surmised at once, ye sorry brawlers, that to the eldest brother he left all his moneys; to the second, all his cattle and all his slaves; while to the youngest,--his house and plow-land? Depart, therefore, in peace; and be no longer enemies among yourselves.”

And the three brothers--but recently enemies--with beaming faces bowed to the king’s feet and walked out of the Hall of Judgment arm in arm.

And the king decided also another suit at inheritance, begun three days ago. A certain man, dying, had said that he was leaving all his goods to the worthier of his two sons. But since neither one of them would consent to call himself the worse one, they had therefore turned to the king.

Solomon questioned them as to their pursuits, and, having heard them answer that they were both hunters with the bow, he spake:

“Return home. I shall order the corpse of your father to be stood up against a tree. We shall first see which one of you shall hit his breast more truly with an arrow, and then decide your suit.”

Now both brothers had returned in the custody of a man sent by the king for their surveillance. He it was whom the king questioned about the contest.

“I have fulfilled all that thou hast commanded,” said his man. “I stood the corpse of the old man against a tree, and gave each brother his bow and arrows. The elder was the first to shoot. At a distance of an hundred and twenty ells he hit just the place where, in a living man, the heart beats.”

“A splendid shot,” said Solomon. “And the younger?”

“The younger ... Forgive me, O King,--I could not insist upon thy command being fulfilled exactly.... The younger did make his string taut, but suddenly lowered the bow to his feet, turned around, and said, weeping: ‘Nay, this I can not do.... I will not shoot at the corpse of my father.’”

“Therefore, let the estate of his father belong to him,” decided the king. “He has proven the worthier son. As for the elder, if he desire, he may join the number of my bodyguards. I have need of such strong and rapacious men, sure of hand and true of eye, and with a heart grown over with wool.”

Next three men came before the king. Carrying on a mutual traffic in merchandise, they had amassed much money. And so, when the time had come for them to journey to Jerusalem, they had sewn up the gold in a leathern belt and had set out on their way. On the road they had spent a night in a forest, and, for safe-keeping, had buried the belt in the ground. But when they awoke in the morning, they found no belt in the place where they had put it.

They all accused one another of the secret theft, and since all three seemed to be men of exceeding cunning, and subtile of speech, the king therefore said unto them:

“Ere I decide your suit, hearken unto that which I shall relate to you. A certain fair maiden promised her beloved, who was setting out upon a journey, to await his return, and to yield her virginity to none save him. But, having gone away, he within a short while married another maiden, in another city, and she came to know of this. In the absence of her beloved, a wealthy and kind-hearted youth in her city, a friend of her childhood, paid court to her. Constrained by her parents she durst not, for shame and fear, tell him of her pact, and took him to spouse. But when, at the conclusion of the marriage feast, he led her to the bed-chamber, and would lay down with her, she began to implore him: ‘Allow me to go to the city where my former beloved dwelleth. Let him relieve me of my vow; then shall I return to thee, and do all thy desire!’ And since the youth loved her exceedingly, he did agree to her request, allowed her to go, and she went. On the way a robber fell upon her, disheveled her, and was about to ravish her. But the maiden fell down on her knees before him, and, in tears, implored him to spare her virtue, telling the robber all that had befallen her, and her reason for travelling to a strange city. And the robber, having heard her out, was so astounded by her faithfulness to her word, and so touched by the goodness of her bridegroom, that not only did he let the girl depart in peace, but also returned to her the valuables he had taken. Now I ask you, who of all these three did best before the countenance of God,--the maiden, the bridegroom, or the robber?”

And one of the plaintiffs said that the maiden was the most worthy of praise, for her steadfastness to her oath. Another marvelled at the great love of her bridegroom; the third, however, found the action of the robber the most magnanimous one.

And the king said to the last:

“Therefore, it is even thou who hast stolen the belt with the common gold, for thou art by nature covetous, and dost desire that which is not thine.”

But this man, having given his travelling staff to one of his companions, spake, raising his hands aloft as though for an oath:

“I witness before Jehovah that the gold is not with me, but him!”

The king smiled and commanded one of his warriors:

“Take this man’s rod and break it in half.”

And when the warrior had carried out Solomon’s order, gold coins poured out upon the floor, for they had been concealed within the hollowed-out stick; as for the thief, he, struck by the wisdom of the king, fell down before his throne and confessed his misdeed.

There also came into the House of Lebanon a woman, the poor widow of a stone-cutter, and she spake:

“I cry for justice, O King! For the last two dinarii left me I bought flour, put it into this large earthen bowl, and started to carry it home. But a strong wind suddenly arose and did scatter my flour. O wise king, who shall bring back this my loss? I now have naught wherewith to feed my children.”

“When was this?” asked the king.

“It happened this morning, at dawn.”

And so Solomon commanded that there be summoned to him several merchants, whose ships were to set out this day with merchandise for Phoenicia, by way of Jaffa. And when, in alarm, they appeared in the Hall of Judgment, the king asked them:

“Did ye pray God, or the gods, for a favourable wind for your ships?”

And they answered:

“Yea, O King. We did so. And our offerings were pleasing to God, for He did send us a propitious wind.”

“I rejoice on your account,” said Solomon. “But the same wind has scattered a poor woman’s flour that she was carrying in a bowl. Do ye not deem it just, if ye have to recompense her?”