Free Love’s Sacred Song by Mesu Andrews Page B

the prince wants, but he says it’s urgent. I’ve asked him to wait in the wives’ garden.” Guiding her mistress to a low stool, Dalit began fitting her head covering in place. “Your quick mind and clever forethought secured the throne for your son once before, my lady. Perhaps this rogue prince is up to no good again.” She placed a silver-handled mirror in Bathsheba’s hand and spoke to her reflection. “Find out what the prince wants, and then—as you did before—determine the best course of action.”
    Allowing her maid’s words to calm her, Bathsheba took a deep breath and donned her robe and slippers. “All right, Dalit. When the guards arrive, have them escort Prince Adonijah to my chamber.”
    The woman bowed quickly and left just as Bathsheba considered summoning Nathan the prophet. It had been his plan that thwarted Adonijah’s coup before. But because of the late hour, she decided to wait and see what the prince wanted before bothering the man of God.
    Moments later, Adonijah arrived, and Bathsheba marveled that her beloved David’s features rested on such a hateful young man. Adonijah was only a dozen years younger than Bathsheba herself, and he was truly one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen. But he was spoiled and selfish, and David had never corrected his wayward behavior. So he pranced about the palace as if the world owed him its praise.
    “Do you come peacefully?” she said in her most regal voice.
    Adonijah’s face softened and he looked . . . well, almost kind. “Yes, Queen Mother. Of course I come peacefully.”
    Bathsheba almost wept with relief. But could he be trusted? As she studied him further, she noticed his eyes bore dark circles and he appeared thinner than he had days ago, when he’d attempted to steal Solomon’s throne. Tonight he looked almost like the adolescent boy she’d known when she first came to the palace. Her heart softened.
    Realizing she hadn’t invited him to sit down, she said, “Would you like some refreshment—honeyed spring water, perhaps?” She moved toward her couch and directed Adonijah to an ivory stool opposite her.
    “No thank you, my lady. I come with one humble request. I’m embarrassed, really, but my heart won’t let me sleep, and I haven’t eaten since I left the palace several days ago.”
    “All right, Adonijah. You may ask it.”
    “As you know, the kingdom was mine and all Israel looked to me as their king, but things changed, and the kingdom is now in Solomon’s capable hands.” He paused and then added, “As was the Lord’s wish.” He began wringing his hands. “I only have one request to make. Please, Queen Mother, please don’t refuse me. I’ve already lost so much.”
    Bathsheba shifted uncomfortably on her couch at his uncharacteristic emotional outburst. “Adonijah, I cannot refuse or allow it if I don’t know what you want. Now, what is your request?”
    “Please ask your son to give me Abishag the Shulammite as my wife. I have loved her since I first laid eyes on her.” Tears welled on his lower lashes. “I know King Solomon respects you and will listen to your counsel.”
    Bathsheba stared at Adonijah, her mind whirring like a spindle. If Abishag married Adonijah, Solomon would no longer need to resist her as a temptation. He would be better able to concentrate on kingdom duties and perhaps even find a lovely bride with whom he could build a true relationship.
    Focusing again on Adonijah, she noted his tears. They seemed sincere, and he certainly appeared to be tormented. She had last seen him on the day of the failed coup, after being dragged into Solomon’s courtroom. On that day, he still exuded an air of pompous superiority, though he was obviously defeated. Solomon spared his life on the condition of future allegiance.
    Eyes narrowing to slits, Bathsheba asked, “Do you want Abishag because you hope to use her as leverage for another coup since she was David’s concubine?”
    He seemed