Chosen One

By Dee Blackshear

Joab the middle son of Zeruiah sees his goal of absolute power within reach. His brother Abishai retired to the hills. David the king is ill and frail. There is nothing to stop him. Joab would not rule directly. The king’s eldest son was weak, and easily controlled; a puppet with him as the master. Soon his status and power would be supreme. Only one child, son of the adulteress, could disrupt this strategy. Solomon must be eliminated.
His arrogant plan ignores one vital factor, the supernatural control of Israel’s future.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dee Blackshear
• Release date: Aug 13, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005400163

Dee Blackshear

Check out my blog for information about me. http://dblackshear4writing.weebly.com/

Book preview

Laughter echoed up from the courtyard below. The Queen, her slender form concealed in flowing robes smiled at the playing boys. Her oldest son, though only sixteen, was already developing into a muscular youth. No one questioned his lineage. Solomon’s smile, dimples, and movements mirrored his father, the king.

Rumors flowed around them. The name, Adulteress was often whispered. As each child grew older, those insinuations stopped. Her other sons also bore a strong resemblance to their father.

I guess, I won, Solomon announced to the empty courtyard. He stood with fists resting on each hip, his face twisted in a fierce frown.

A giggled burst from behind a tree. He turned at the sound. Two young boys, still gangly and full of laughter, attacked their big brother like energetic puppies. Nathan grabbed his brother’s legs and tried to bring him down. Solomon pretended to trip, rolled, and fell on his back. Shammua, the youngest took a flying leap, planning to land on top of him. His body, hurling through the air stiffened in surprise. Dark brown eyes grew wide.

When the limp form of his brother landed on Solomon’s chest, he sat up and clutched the boy. Trying to understand what happened, he demanded, Shammua. Wake up. This isn’t funny.

His brother’s head plopped backward. Warm liquid drenched his tunic. Open eyes in a face turning gray stared sightless back at him.

Bathsheba’s screams pierced the calm morning, Guards! Guards! They are attacking my children.

Chapter 2 Confrontation

For a moment Solomon sat stunned, unsure of what just happened. Feet pounded the ground. Men were running toward him. Suddenly aware of the danger for Nathan, he shoved his other brother toward a shrub. Hide!

Soldiers ran out and surrounded Solomon. More plunged into the shrubs looking for the assailant. Hands tried to take the child from his arms, but he refused to release him. He slowly removed a knife from his brother’s back. I must take him to Mother.

At least let me keep the knife. Benaiah the king’s close advisor knelt and removed the weapon from Solomon’s grasp.

His voice, thick with anger vibrated through the garden, Give me the knife back. I will keep it until the time my brother is avenged.

Later, after seeing the queen, I will give the weapon to you. The advisor used a cloth to wipe off the blade and tucked the knife in his belt. With a fierce expression, he bent over to help Solomon to stand, the child still clutched against his chest.

Emotions overwhelmed him. He swayed on his feet. The advisor’s steadying hand on his shoulder brought what happened into focus. I must go to Mother! Blood dripped on the stone floor as he staggered with the child to their rooms.

She met him at the doorway and wailed at the sight of her son’s bleeding form. Shammua! My precious son! What have they done to you?

Solomon stood motionless as a red rage surged through him. A sharp pain of anger squeezed his lungs. His words came out in a low growl, He is dead. They killed him. His laughter is gone. My little brother got between me and the knife. Shammua was a child, not a threat to anyone. He died so I might live. Whoever hired the assassin, the man will regret it.

Where is Nathan?

Over here. A servant pulled the kicking and wiggling boy toward her.

Let me go. I want to help Solomon kill the man who murdered Shammua.

Bring him to me. Bathsheba turned and staggered. Her robes now bloodstained hung limp.

My queen, let us help. We will bathe and prepare him.

No, I must comfort him. He needs me.

My queen, your other sons require attention. Gentle hands reached out and lifted the dead child from her arms.

She stood dazed as another maid slipped the soiled garment off her shoulders.

Nathan grabbed her and started sobbing. Together, they collapsed on a lounger. Solomon dropped to his knees and wrapped them in his arms as tears flowed.

His mother and Nathan felt so small and fragile in his hands. Sudden fear surged through him. What if they were next? He stood and announced with a determined voice, I must go. Demand father find the assassin. Discover who hired him.

Wait, don’t leave. Guards catch up with him. He must be protected.

Solomon heard his mother call out but kept going. Running feet pounded the stone floor behind him.

Benaiah stopped him in the hall and pulled the knife from his belt. I will come with you. Here is the knife. It is extra sharp, a prized assassin’s blade. The guards responded quick to your mother’s summons. He did not have time to retrieve it. Rest assured; your brother will be avenged.

I want to be there. Solomon looked up at the soldier standing next to him.

The man was strong and muscular with hair cut short, ready for combat. His face appeared hard as stone. The only sign of emotion was a scar down his cheek glowing red. Too dangerous. But here is not the time or place to discuss this.

I agree, but later, yes. Right now, I must have an audience with my father.

They hurried through the halls with guards stomping behind them. At the king’s massive wooden doors, the usual groups of men clustered against the walls whispering secrets. News of the assassin’s attempt already spread through the court.

Solomon came to an abrupt stop and jammed the knife hard in an ornate wooden column. He noticed General Joab standing nearby. The man took every opportunity to ridicule him even calling him ‘stupid brat’ to his face. Which one of you hired the man to kill me? He missed but killed an eight-year-old boy instead. Was it you? I realize how much you hate me. Or perhaps, my dear brother Adonijah, a coward’s trick.

A tall, blond-haired man leaned against the wall and smirked at him. He made a motion with his feet indicating how easy it was to stomp the smaller youth.

The king’s wooden door creaked open. A timid girl peeked out. The King wants to know what the noise is about.

Inform him, that his son was killed by an assassin. Better yet, I’ll tell him. Solomon pushed aside the guards and rushed into the room.

King David emerged from his private chambers still pulling on his royal robe. He was in his late sixties now, and his once muscular body turned to flab. Black shining curls were replaced with stiff gray. An old battle wound caused him to limp. He sat down on a chair and stared at his angry son.

Benaiah stepped forward, head bowed. I have failed. Your son is dead.

The king’s eyes widened with shock. Glitter from the fires highlighted the blood smeared down Solomon’s tunic. He asked his son, You are hurt?

No, it’s not my blood, but Shammua’s. He is dead. Killed by a knife meant for me. I understand that my brothers hate us. But we have kept ourselves removed from the intrigues and want no part in court battles for power. There was no reason for this. Why now? He paced back and forth; his fists clenched.

My blood flows through you. That is good enough cause for some. David glanced down at Benaiah still kneeling at his feet. You will handle this?

The man’s eyes glowed with anger. Yes. The assassin will not live long. This attack must have been arranged so fast; my spies did not have time to alert me. Extra guards were posted at the entrances of the courtyard to watch over the children, but the man entered at night and waited, concealed in the bushes.

I want the man killed. No one has the right to attack my sons. See to it.

Yes. One other thing, though. The prince confronted General Joab. Accused him in front of a group of men as the instigator.

Joab?

His outburst can be passed off as ‘youthful imagination’.

Has Solomon discovered something?

Most likely, just palace intrigues. The situation is dangerous. Another attempt will probably occur. The assassin has to if he wants to get paid by who hired him. This time though, we have a warning. The man will be killed.

Impatient with the conversation, Solomon swirled around. Not waiting for his father’s dismissal, he slammed the door open. I want to be there and plunge the knife in his chest! Shammua will be avenged! Now, I must go comfort my mother.

Wait! Solomon, you are in danger. Benaiah, we need to discuss my son’s extra security.

Guards, escort the prince to his quarters.

Solomon ignored his father’s command and kept going. He entered the hall and found Adonijah trying to twist the assassin’s knife free. He shoved his brother aside and jerked the blade out. I’ll take that and return it to the owner.

You do that, Runt. Adonijah’s laughter followed him down the hall.

Chapter 3 Joab plots

General Joab, commander of all of David’s troops walked away from the king’s door after the confrontation with Solomon. When the boy accused him just now, a shiver of fear shot down his spine. Could a servant have overheard? He shook his head. Had to be a lucky guess. Only the priest, the assassin, and he knew of the plot. Adonijah, David’s eldest was purposely excluded so no suspicion would fall on him. To cover any speculation, he started the servants gossiping about Philistine assassins eliminating the king’s sons.

Joab’s thoughts shifted to the next phase. Solomon’s survival delayed his plan slightly but that could be turned to his advantage. At an audience with David, he would comment about Benaiah’s incompetence to protect the royal family. Show concern for Adonijah’s life.

Send a message to Abiathar the priest to meet me in my chambers.

One of his Elite Guards saluted and hurried off to find the priest.

As he strode to his quarters in a soldier’s rhythm, each step seemed to echo, Failure, failure.

For a moment, the old insecurities surfaced. Memories rose of the youths growing up together. God sometimes dealt directly with Abi and David but never Joab. He wanted so much to hear a voice or experience God’s presence, even studied the old writings, knew them by heart. Why not him? The silence was too much. He gave up waiting for answers and moved aggressively toward his own goals. Right now, ultimate power was in his grasp.

Wailing echoed through the halls for David’s dead son.

Too bad it is not for Solomon.

Entering his room, Joab shrugged his shoulders and reached for the bowl of water. He submerged his hot face.

The curtain moved over by the balcony. A man covered from head to foot in black slipped in the room.

Joab grabbed a towel to dry off. You missed. I thought you were the best.

The child got in the way.

One less of the Adulteress’s brats. But Solomon was still the target.

No problem. Next time, he will be alone. Someone comes. The assassin disappeared behind a curtain.

You asked to meet? Abiathar’s chains jingled as he entered through the door.

Joab dropped his towel on the table and turned to the priest. Something must be done. The king can’t put off naming his successor any longer.

Abiathar’s thin face peeked out from the ornate head covering of his priestly garments. If we go to talk with David, maybe he will listen to us. Bring Adonijah, let him plead for the blessing.

Not likely. I sense a change. Benaiah is undermining my influence. They make plans without me.

Are you sure this is what we should be doing? I mean, hiring an assassin---. His voice cracked on the word. Nervous fingers twisted the chains hanging from around his neck.

Joab went stiff with emotion. His body appeared to expand; muscles tightened and grew larger. The gray-streaked braid seemed to bristle down his back. Dark eyes bore into the priest’s face. So now you have second thoughts?

No, just that you are the most powerful man in the country other than David. Commander of all the troops. Why do you want more?

Words exploded from the general in a deep menacing tone. I along with my brothers, Abishai and Asa, followed David from the beginning. Known as the sons of Zeruiah, our fearless exploits in battle are legendary. With Asa dead and Abi retired, I am the only one left. Protecting Israel has always been my desire. David is turning old and frail. Any indecisiveness and the country could split. All our victories through the years would vanish. I will keep building up my influence. When the time comes, as their commander, the captains, and their troops vow allegiance to me. They follow my orders without question. After the next big battle, with the troops behind me, Adonijah will be declared the successor. And since you still have concerns, Solomon’s death would eliminate any difficulties.

Is there a way to get Moses’s Epoch? At one time, the jeweled vest emitted a mystical power from God. If we hold the vest up as a witness, everyone will follow us.

Why bring God into it. The last time he spoke thousands died of a plague. The people want progress, not fear.

We both observed His presence in the past. Abiathar shook his head. But you might be right. The last time I touched the epoch, its stones felt cold. There was no power flowing through them. I didn’t see any reason, when the king sent for the garment, not to give it to him.

Joab responded, You are right, though having the epoch in hand would help us. Some still cling to the old ways. The new girl, Abishag, comforts and takes care of David. Possibly, could she get him to reveal where it is? Adonijah must use his handsome face and charm to entice her. Most girls will do anything he asks. Part of his plan was to place Adonijah in power, David’s eldest son, a vain man and easy to manipulate.

The sound of heavy feet stomped down the hall. They stopped at Joab’s door. Adonijah burst in with his robe billowing out behind him; his handsome face twisted in a frown. He took after his mother’s family and towered over most of the people, Joab included. Would you believe the old man asked me if I had something to do with the child’s death?

We need to talk. Alone. Joab nodded toward the guards standing in the doorway.

Their allegiance is to me, but, oh well. Leave us.

The guards' steps echoed back down the hall.

Now, what happened?

Adonijah sprawled in a chair and leaned his head back. The girl opened the door, called me in. As I entered and bowed, I thought he was going to hit me with his cane. His displeasure was frightening. Father questioned if I had any part of the assassination. I told him, ‘No, had nothing to do with it.’ He seemed to accept my statement.

Good. Your future is too important for whispers to be attached to it. Joab filled a goblet with wine.

Adonijah reached out for the cup. But I tell you, whoever set the assassination up, the concept was good. Solomon’s death would solve many problems. Too bad the man failed.

"Not something for you to say outside this room. Tomorrow I will request an audience