Kingdom Lost

By Mary Carpenter

Prince Jonathan has dared to marry Sarah without his parents knowing, and now he must go home and face his father. When Sarah insists that he take her with him, he doesnt know that she has dreamed that his father kills him. He begrudgingly agrees, thinking he will lock her in his room once they reach the palace and go meet his father alone. Upon their arrival however, Jonathan realizes that not only their lives are in danger but also their marriage. Uncertainty once again grips his heart and he offers Sarah a bill of divorcement before their marriage is confirmed before his fathers kingdom.
The setting is ancient Israel somewhere between 1150-1050 BC. Jonathans home is a gloomy stone fortress, located in the former Canaanite City of Gibeah. Casemated walls and a grand staircase lead to what the servants fearfully call the Lions Den, his fathers large, second story audience room. It is in this room that Jonathan introduces his wife to his parents, and is the place where he would have died had Sarah not been with him.
The beloved of the LORD shall dwell in safety beside you; and the LORD shall cover you all the day long, and he shall dwell between your shoulders. The words of the Benjamite blessing, spoken by Moses over five generations before, continues to drift through Jonathans thoughts. When his grandfather dies suddenly, and his fathers mind continues to deteriorates into madness, Jonathan is convinced the blessing was meant as a promise to him. When his father does not obey God concerning the battle with Amalek, the prophet Samuel puts a curse upon the entire house of Saul. As Samuel gazes sadly into Jonathans eyes, he promises him that, if he continues to hope, Shiloh will come to sheol (the grave) and get him. When Jonathan learns that a very dear friend of his has been killed in this battle because Saul commanded him to scale a city wall in order to test his God, this promise seems all that the young prince has left to believe in. Close to despairing, he comes to the realization that Shiloh is not an altar or a building that can be destroyed by his enemies, whoever they are, but an individual hope in his heart, like the eternal flame at the altar. Grandfather was right after all, he tells his mother. We must tell the next generation, and the next, and the next, until someday a worthy king shall come to deliver us.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jan 31, 2007
• ISBN: 9781462827923

Mary Carpenter

MARY CARPENTER now writes a weekly health column, after a thirty-year career as a staff reporter for Time magazine and as a freelance journalist. Her articles and essays have been published in the Washington Post, the International Herald Tribune, People Magazine, the New York Times, and Cosmopolitan, and she is the author of two other middle-grade books: Rescued by a Cow and a Squeeze: Temple Grandin and Lost and Found in the Mississippi Sound: Eli and the Dolphins of Hurricane Katrina.

Book preview

1

The blanket folded about Jonathan’s lap as he sat suddenly upright. The dream had begun again. The strange darkness like a wind-driven fog, causing him to lose all sense of direction, the evil presence walking beside him, his voice crying out for God to help him.

The beloved of the LORD shall dwell in safety beside you; and the LORD shall cover you all the day long, and he shall dwell between your shoulders. The same booming voice had halted him again on the very lip of the precipice.

He rubbed his head wearily, struggling to understand. The stars still shone brightly in the dark square of Sarah’s window, and the cock wasn’t crowing yet. He glanced downward, seeing the smooth curve of Sarah’s cheek and the spread of her long dark hair against the whiteness of the bolster. His heart fell like a stone. Of one thing he was certain—he had not dreamed his wedding. He had dared to love her, to tangle his fingers in her hair, and to hold her against his breast as his wife. He had deliberately bared his heart, soul, and body to her and, in so doing, had fulfilled his father’s definition of weakness. It was no longer just himself that he had to look out for. Terror cramped his chest and made him want to clutch her to him, to hide her from whatever it was that stalked his sleep. She sighed contentedly and turned onto her side. Her breathing was soft and even. He eased back onto his bolster. The worry was his to bear. He spread his fingers and stared at his hands. They felt big and clumsy, as though encased in wet woolen mittens. He closed his eyes and prayed silently for Yahweh’s guidance, knowing the dream was not just a nightmare. The evil was there—just as it had been three years ago when he had first had it—and whoever it was that wanted to destroy him would now want to destroy her also.

No! Sarah cried, as if she had heard his thoughts, and her legs began to thrash beneath the covers.

Sarah? He rose swiftly in the bed to touch the creamy softness of one bare shoulder. It was hot and damp to his touch, and she shrugged away from him. Sarah, he said more urgently.

The room was large, with only one small window at the southeast end. Though it did afford some ventilation to the musty interior, it offered only a minimum of light, necessitating the several pitch torches inserted in the carefully polished brass holders adorning the high walls of dressed stone. Heavy beams, hewn from massive wooden slabs, supported the vaulted ceiling; and a single beam of sunlight slanted across the stone floor where a section of the roof had been cut away above a fireplace, undoubtedly used for heat in the wintertime. Sarah shivered as she stared at the dust particles dancing about in the light as if moved by some ghostly hand, and wondered that even in summer, the room seemed in need of its flame. In the distance, she heard shouting. She didn’t recognize the voices or understand the words that were spoken until a man stumbled toward her from the shadows. The beam of light crossed over him like a torch, and she saw Jonathan’s eyes, large and filled with horror, the moment before his body was spilling prostrate at her feet.

A scream caught in her throat as she stooped to lift his head. His neck bent limply above his leaden shoulders, and a spot of blood appeared at the corner of his mouth. She watched dumbly as a tiny red river snaked down the side of his jaw and dripped onto the cold stone floor. Her eyes moved slowly upward from the toes protruding out of the dusty sandals in front of them until they met those of the man who towered above them. The man was his father, and the blade of the dagger he held in his hand was red.

Sarah sat bolt upright in bed, her mouth still forming the soundless scream. Her mind was a whirling mass of hysteria as her eyes struggled to find him in the darkness. Someone had their arms about her, holding her back, and she struggled frantically to free herself.

Sarah!

Jonathan? her voice tremored, and her body went limp. Oh, Jonathan, she whispered, burying her face in the warm curve of his neck and shoulder.

You were having a bad dream, he said, gently holding her away from him so he could see her face.

Care to tell me about it?

I don’t remember, she lied.

He lay back and drew her down onto his shoulder. She snuggled against his side, drawing comfort from its hard strength. When she was certain he was asleep again, she sat up.

Oh, Yahweh, she whispered, her hair falling like a curtain about her face. Time had seemed to stop for them during their wedding week, spent blissfully in the tower room of her aunt Adah’s house, but all had changed the moment they had entered the cool silence of her mother’s house, and Jonathan had requested leave of her to go tell his father that he was married.

I must go with you, she had insisted, but shame had kept her from telling him about the horrible dream that stalked her sleep.

Carefully, so as not to awaken him, she eased back under the coverlet. Sleep was slow coming, and when it finally did, the nightmare was repeated. This time, when her eyes adjusted to the darkness, the bed beside her was empty. She lunged to her feet, stubbing a toe painfully.

Jonathan, she called, her voice weak with terror. Not until the blanket covering her doorway moved aside to reveal his face did her wild hysteria begin to recede. What are you doing? she babbled.

He stepped quickly into the room, allowing the blanket to slide down his back. He was dressed to travel. Shh, he whispered, placing a finger to his lips. You will wake your mother.

She clutched the sleeve of his robe, needing no further explanation. Unable to convince her to allow him to go home alone, he was attempting to sneak away without her. She clung to him, weeping with thankfulness that her god had awakened her in time.

Shh, he said again, stroking her disheveled hair.

Jonathan, you mustn’t do this to me, her voice came in strangled sobs against his shoulder. "Why can’t you understand that I must go with you?"

His breath was passionate against her ear. Even Father cannot keep me away from you now.

It had been over three months since he and Abinadab, his armor bearer, had disappeared from his father’s camp in Edom. Though his father had initially believed he had been abducted by a band of nomads, Abinadab’s older brother, Eliab, had known the truth. Since their wedding, this loyal friend had traveled faithfully the few miles between Sarah’s home in Bethlehem and the palace in Gibeah to bring him news. On the morning of his wedding day, Eliab had warned him that some tattletale had told his father that he was not dead after all but was merely hiding from him in the desert. Not wanting to alarm her, he had not told Sarah that the captain of his father’s army, his cousin Abner, had been among her guests at the ceremony, disguised as a shepherd, or that he had spoken with Abner the next morning and promised to return to Gibeah as soon as his wedding week was fulfilled. No doubt the man had kept his father’s scouts away from Bethlehem, or they too would have found him by now. But he dared not press the goodwill of Abner.

He forced Sarah away from him and stroked at her tears with the tips of his fingers. A worried frown plucked at his dark brows. I don’t want you to hear what my father is going to say to me, he whispered.

I’m afraid, Jonathan, she argued.

His lips tightened stubbornly.

Can’t you see that if I’m with you, he won’t be as apt to kill you?

His laugh was like the snapping of a twig in the quiet room. Do you think my father is a beast?

You said yourself that he might kill you, she reasoned.

"Not now, Sarah. We have been married for more than a week. Whatever else my father is, he is a firm believer in the marital laws. He grasped her shoulders, breaking the grip she had about his waist. I will be back tomorrow before sundown. I promise you, Sarah."

Her voice lowered to a determined pitch. "If you move toward that door, I will scream. I do not care what lie I will have to tell my mother, but you are not leaving without me."

Though Jonathan’s lips had become a tight, silent line on his face, Sarah could not repent. She felt his angry gaze on the side of her face as she formed a small lump of clay into a bulla, marked it with a message telling her mother where they had gone, and placed it in the center of the table where she would be sure to find it. Neither of them spoke as she scrambled up the pathway after him in the waning moonlight. When his horse nickered a greeting, she knew his escape had all been arranged between him and Abinadab during their wedding week.

He avoided her accusing gaze, glaring at his armor bearer instead as he jerked the reins out of the boy’s hand.

Have you ever ridden before? Abinadab said, looking beyond him at her.

She shook her head.

Abinadab cast a depreciating glance at Jonathan. She won’t be able to walk when she gets there, he accused.

Jonathan silenced him with another glare and started to mount. His feet had barely left the ground, however, when Sarah tackled him about the waist and dragged him back down.

I get on first, she said firmly, placing herself between him and the horse. Her eyes were like dark pools in the pale oval of her face.

His laugh was hard and brittle. Oh, come on, Sarah, he whispered, gripping her narrow shoulders with a rising temper.

I don’t trust you, Jonathan, she hissed. You would leave me here with Abinadab.

He glanced at the boy in obvious embarrassment, and Sarah knew the lad was barely suppressing his laughter.

I could have warned you that the wolf of Benjamin was not raiding a chicken coop when he married this one, Abinadab said with a wry grin.

Jonathan silenced him with another angry glare, and Sarah’s lips tightened into a determined line, her stance becoming much like that of a ruffled brood hen. He flung the reins at Abinadab in disgusted resignation and, in the same angry motion, lifted her and tossed her like a sack of grain onto Samson’s broad back.

He must like you, he admitted grimly as he swung on behind her. He didn’t kill you anyway.

Her hands went quickly to clutch the animal’s long mane, and her eyes measured the distance to the ground with a fearful glance. He nudged the animal into a bone-jarring trot. More out of fear than pain, she closed her eyes, feeling faint. Jonathan’s sudden anger was a trait she had not suspected him to possess. Not until Samson leaped the rain-washed ditch bordering the road did she dare to utter another sound. I’m sorry, she whispered contritely, but you must understand that I cannot let you out of my sight until this matter is settled. If you don’t want me creating an embarrassing commotion, then don’t try to fool me again.

Eliab warned me that you were like that sorrel, Jonathan growled, but the tickling of her hair beneath his nose soon disarmed his anger. Unable to be sorry that she had won the battle, he placed a condescending arm about her and nudged Samson into a more comfortable lope. How little he knew about this girl he had married. Strangely enough, in spite of himself, he found her stubbornness endearing. Still feeling the need to strike out at her bold affront to his masculine authority in front of his armor bearer, however, he spitefully described the robbers that might lurk in the shadows along the road. Oh, and you better hope those murderous Philistines that seek the hated soldier who rides the big black horse don’t see us tonight. With two of us riding him, Samson won’t be able to outrun them. He felt her shrinking closer to him with a wicked glee and hoped she wouldn’t guess how much he enjoyed it.

2

The spring mist was pink with dawn by the time Sarah and Jonathan reached the spot where she had come to meet him the year before on his return from the battle at Michmash. As if he too was remembering it, he halted his horse and looked about. She watched in silence as he removed his coat and motioned for her to put it on. He studied her a moment with those intense blue eyes before jerking the narrow band from his head. After rearranging her scarf like a man would wear it, he adjusted the scrap of linen about her forehead.

You’ll have to straddle the horse, he instructed, a thoughtful frown knitting his dark brows in the center. When she moved to obey, he groaned, pulling her skirt down to cover her shapely legs. You don’t make a very good boy, he grumbled, and the guards are not used to me packing a girl about. Better keep your head down, or the news will beat us to the palace.

They passed the stone where Eliab had waited for him with his horse the time she had accosted him in the road on his return from the battle at Michmash. When they crested the hill, she covered her mouth with a hand to conceal her gasp.

Had she followed him to this spot that day, she would never have had the nerve to ask him to marry her. The comparison of this City of Saul to her own small village in Judah was a shocking contrast. The first rays of sunlight glistened on the heaps of stones that created walls, winding like a serpent about the hill it clung to. Partially out of obedience, but mostly out of sheer humiliation, she buried her face in his scarf and didn’t glance upward until he leaped off the horse and shouted for the guards to open the gate. He led the animal through the shadowed opening to the coarse jokes of the men gazing down from the towers on either side, taunting him about the slender boy timidly hiding his face in his head cloth. They quickly withdrew when Jonathan glared at them but only to bet on the anger of the king with his charitable son who had vanished all this time merely in search of yet another armor bearer.

Sarah had never before been inside city walls, and in order to obey his command that she not look around, she focused her gaze on the enormous clay stones beneath Samson’s hooves. In Bethlehem, there was no paving except about the well, yet these stones were worn smooth to the point of looking polished, their scorched corners rounded with many years of use.

This street was here when Joshua crossed the Jordan River to claim this land from the Canaanites, Jonathan said, as if in answer to her thoughts. They have been baked by centuries of blistering sun and also the fires of war and . . . shame.

The last word was slow coming, and she decided he must be referring to her father’s story about the murderous Benjamites who had killed the Levite woman. The city had been burned by the other tribes when Benjamin’s elders refused to punish the criminals. Her eyes followed his pointing finger to the circular well in the center of the rehob. It is a good well . . . , his voice lowered to a whisper, but was not good enough for Father. The hint of bitterness now flooded his tone, and she knew he was referring to the more recent massacre of the Gibeonites by his father and his mighty men. It had been the topic on every tongue for months in Bethlehem, and she had been terribly relieved when she had