The Slaughter of the Lambs

EDITOR CORBETT
Book One: The Glory of the King
The First Emperor of the Ark
(The Kebra Negast -- Corbett Translation, 2005)

I
The Slaughter of the Lambs


1. JERUSALEM, 968 B.C.E.

THE RITUALISTIC slaughter of the lambs on the hill above The Ophel in Jerusalem had always drawn throngs of voyeurs, nauseatingly attracted to Shechita.
The shochet tested his chalaf with his calloused forefinger and then raised it above his shoulders and with dramatic accuracy sliced the silent animal's neck, cutting right back so that the carotoid arteries and the jugular veins were included.
The devout slaughterer was particular about the extremely sharp instrument, making certain it was perfectly smooth, without a single notch or dent, a pitch to which only very careful and trained men can bring to a knife. At once the whole of blood was spilt out of the brain, followed by unconsciousness.
This September Wednesday, some 500 sheep were meticulously herded through the narrow gate, which was hidden by a massive rock formation, leading to an open-air abbatoir, by a handful of herdsmen, all especially handpicked for their knowledge of these sacrificial animals. The priests of Azariah demanded nothing less than perfection.
Abda, the chief shochet, was aware of his divine duties and he would adhere to all the sanctuary regulations. He believed he was preordained, pure of heart and devout in the fulfillment of his obligations for, in the language of the sacred writings: "There are no mysteries before God, for He searcheth the hearts of men."
Smiling faintly, Abda searched for his son's face in the early-morning audience of more than 2,000. His pride swelled within his breast for King Solomon had just appointed Adoniram superintendent of public works for Judah and the jewel called Jerusalem.
He glanced again and noticed a full-faced, tall man, with ebony skin, sitting next to his son on the stony ridges. The man was definitely a foreigner. Probably one of those Red Sea importers, he thought.
Abda was accustomed to visitors within the City of David, for the king was courting these wealthy merchants by the score, as he proceeded with the building of the Great Temple to Yahweh.
Abda scolded himself inwardly, for he knew his mind and heart must be on the sacred task.
He uttered a blessing appropriate to the act of slaughtering. Repeating it wouldn't be necessary.
He would take care to concentrate and not let himself be interrupted by any irrevelant speech or acts.
The slaughter would be over in three hours, far in advance of the setting sun.
Then Abda and his fellow shochets would ensure the cleanliness of the abbatoir. His chief associate, Baana, would assist him in washing down the smooth rock floor.

2.

"OPINION?" Adoniram asked in flat tones, trying to hide his displeasure with his father's profession, one which Abda had, on many occasions, tried to persuade him to pursue.
A father's obsession, but he had chosen a different path, for civil engineering was much more lucrative, and tolerable than slicing animals' throats.
It was so uncivilized, but Shechita was just one pf the public relations' tools in luring foreign trading partners to Solomon's Court.
"Spectacular," Tamrin bellowed, followed by a belly laugh of titanic proportions, one which made Adoniram cringe, for he considered escorting uncouth merchants beneath his newly-acquired status.
"Where to, next?"
"My office."
The petulant engineer, only 26, in his flowing white gown, and the 44-year-old merchant and ambassador, in an off-gray outfit, still retaining the grittiness of travel, swiftly moved down the slight slope about 150 yards to the side of the unfinished eastern wing of Solomon's Palace, now being temporarily used as an official government building, which housed the Great Conference and Banquet Halls. A few steps beyond was a cluster of low-rise and interconnected non-descript rooms, one of which was Adoniram's office for public works.
Tamrin had been overwhelmed by the verdant green of the surrounding manicured lawns and with the flowers of every hue and color. He was also struck by the supenatural light which seemed to cover the slopes from the Rock and the Ophel, affectionately known as The Hump, down into the City of David. Outside the walls in the Hinnon Valley, the browns and grays of indiscriminate shrubbery was in stark contrast to the richness of Adoniram's world.
"Tamrin!"
The edge in the cabinet minister's voice broke his train of thought.
Walking into the one-floor building no more than 20 yards from a sentry tower on the eastern wall overlooking the Kidron Valley, the Ethiopian noticed a wide table of blueprints, all numbered, and rising about 15 inches off the surface.
"Cedar, from Lebanon?"
It was more a statement than a question as Tamrin stared at the top scroll, marked in fine penmanship, TEMPLE, in the right-hand corner and 1. on the left side.
Adoniram was taken aback by Tamrin's remark.
"How did you know that?"
The belly laugh again.
"I know everything. Everything. Just ask me anything."
Then with a deadpan expression sweeping across his face, which had more crevices than a Simien mountain range, the merchant from the Land of the South, he called Ethiopia, slapped his hands on both sides of his cheekbones, and said:
"What did you take me for, Adoniram, stupid?"
The engineer with the refined features, looked into Tamrin's dark eyes and, for a brief moment, saw the fire of knowledge seering into his very soul, and his perception of his visitor was forever altered.

Tamrin: I've been to the mountains.
Adoniram: The mountains?
Tamrin: Yes, the mountains of Lebanon. When I was younger, my king, Agabos, sent me to Tyre in Phoenicia to pay tribute to King Hiram. We, too, needed cedar, for the building of a palace in the Arabian Saba. But enough about me, tell me about your king's plans?
Adoniram: He wants to build a magnificent temple of cedar and also a palace for himself and his wives.
Tamrin: His wives? How many does he have?
Adoniram: Hundreds.
Tamrin: Hundreds? Greedy?

Adoniram acknowledged the flippancy by clucking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Tamrin seemed startled, for polygamy was discouraged throughout Ethiopia and the territory of Arabian Saba, across the Narrows of the Red Sea.
"Married?"
"Yes."
No would have been a more correct answer.
Although he had no lack of women, attracted to his physical presence and charismatic personality, Tamrin savored the memory of his beloved Bela, whom he lost to the Danakil sands 20 years earlier.
"Tamrin!"
The forcefulness of his name being spoken again, brought him back to reality.
"Water?"
Adoniram poured it from a large jar with a narrow neck into his pottery cup.
To that instant, the ambassador hadn't realized his thirst; for travellers of the sand and sea learn to endure parched throats day after day until it becomes part of the numbness they have to accommodate within their bodies.
Shuffling the scrolls, Adoniram's eyes fell on one numbered 14, again in fine penmanship, in the left-hand corner.
"Look, at this one."
It was the floor plan of the Temple Proper.
"Where's the site?"
The Ethiopian, with the expressive almond-shaped eyes, had a way of cutting through expressive verbiage and swiftly reached the precise point.
"Let's go up on the roof, " Adoniram said, his voice now filled with enthusiasm.
The exterior steps were narrow and on a steep incline to a flat, but pebbly surface, which seemed to stick to the bottom of their sandals, much like strong adhesive.
As if anticipating their visit, two plans of rough cedar, with splinters intact, had been carelessly placed in the center of the roof.
"Look up there."
He pointed to a fenced-off area, where he and Tamrin had watched the slaughter of the sheep and lambs earlier in the day.
"That's Moriah."
A flash of sunlight struck like sparks off the granite surface of the massive rock formation.
"What's that?"
"That's the Rock of Abraham and Isaac."
A thousand questions flooded the Ethiopian's mind, but he asked only one.
"Where are you going to build the Temple?"
"There."
Adoniram pointed his right forefinger towards a space just east of the pock-marked rock.
"We already have the infra-structure in place."
Tamrin had briefly examined the expansive rock plateau, now being used as an abbatoir, for he was a man of detail.

3.

SUDDENLY, BOTH could hear voices in the downstairs office..

Adoniram (to Tamrin): That's Shisha's son, Elihoreph and Ahijah. They're cabinet secretaries. Prissy guys. Always worrying about money.
Eliporeph (audibly sniffling): What does Adoniram want with this Ethiopian?

The secretaries, in charge of the Temple budget, knew they could be overheard, and it was obvious, the superintendent of public works in Solomon's Court, knew that they knew, and with his voice lifted up to a higher decibel.

Adoniram: We understand you have mines of gold in Ophir, and sapphires, and some black wood, you call acacia.
Tamrin: That's correct.

The ambassador's eyes twinkled in playing a game with the two interlopers. Both Adoniram and his guest, as if by a pre-arranged signal, then lowered their voices so Elihoreph and Ahijah would have to strain to even catch a phrase here and there.

Adoniram: We used to have an overabundance of it down in the Sinai, but a tree rot disease infested the groves aboiut 10 years ago.
Tamrin: Tree rot? Acacia's not supposed to rot.

Although Ethiopia had healthy forests of black wood, Tamrin, at that moment, realized that acacia once mejestically rose close to the shoreline along the Gulf of Akaba, near the sheltered harbor close to the twin windswept points of entry, Ezion-geber and Elath, when he first went to the mountains of Lebanon.
Then they disappeared.
"Our trees are safe."
"We thought that, too."
They edged their way down the rock-hewn steps.
The secretaries made their leave, without any introductions offered or received, and Adoniram and Tamrin resumed by pouring over the blueprints while eclipsing the afternoon hours.
The Chief Merchant of the Land of the South was so enthralled by the Temple complex, he had forgotten about food and the tiredness in his arthritic bones.
The exhilaration of Shechita and the exploration of his new-found friend's keen mind had been well worth any pain.
Only the darkness, which covered Jerusalem like a loving father's hand, forced Tamrin's eyes to droop.
"Tomorrow's another day, friend," Adoniram whispered.

4.

THE RAYS of the early Thursday morning sun warmed Tamrin's craggy face and he clutched the white linen to his still taut body. He savored the luxury, for life on the road and on the sea never provided such luxury.
Outside the walls of the City of David, in the Hinnon Valley, were encampments of traders and he thought of his 150 men and their camels, who had travelled more than 1,400 miles from Marib in the Arabian Saba with a complement of acacia wood, sapphires, ebony and gold, in exchange of grains and, in particular, metals which were being smelted in the Sinai.
The Chief Merchant cared for the safety of his company of men, but his aide-de-camp, Gizaw, was a strong leader and would report to Tamrin during the continuing trade negotiations in the Great Hall on The Ophel that afternoon.
Keeping his eyes closed and lying motionless, he absorbed the sounds of Jerusalem.
The crowing of love-sick roosters.
The braying of donkeys in a distant market.
The faint tapping of instruments breaking rocks in a Kidron quarry.
A symphony of discordant notes conducted by a tone-deaf maestro.
Then the soft whimperings of a baby girl and the low voice of a man in prayer.
Such sounds needed eyes.
The Ethiopian rubbed his and was surprised to look at the kneeling forms of Adoniram and his three-year-old son, Benjamin, on the open-air roof adjacent to his bedchamber, which was protected from the elements by a slight wall of limestone.
Both father and son were facing the Hill Moriah with their arms resting on a solid cedar altar, five feet in length and only two feet in height. The two forms seemed almost draped over the place of worship.
"O God, thou art my God, early will I seek thee, my flesh longeth for thee: To see thy power and thy glory."
Adoniram and Benjamin slowly turned to the ambassador, now dressed in fresh clothing.
The pleasantries of the day were exchanged and the three moved down the exterior steps to the smells wafting from the open door of the kitchen of Adoniram's wife, Sarah, who was holding a baby girl. Her name was Naomi.

"We must take our guest to the Pool," Sarah said, while clearing off the breakfast utensils from the table. She was referring to the Pool of Siloam, near the Fountain Gate of the City of David, about a half-hour's brisk walk from the conclave of high government officials.
"Yes, I will, " Adoniram pleasantly acknowledged his wife of six years, who had bore him two children and now was four months pregnant. He was praying for anther boy.
The Pool of Siloam was fed pure water through a conduit from an underground spring, known as the Gihon, in the Kidron Valley. Both royalty and commoners flocked to it; for, it was said to have medicinal and healing qualities.
Ambassador Tamrin traversed the 39 well-worn steps and as his body knifed into its waters, he felt his aches dissipate.
Mind over matter, he thought.

5.

WHEN COMMANDER Adray of the Royal Merchant Fleet out of Ezion-Geber sent a message to the harbormaster at Adulis on the Gulf of Zula, a year earlier, Tamrin was quick to reply.
The message read: King Solomon requests your immediate meeting with Chief Negotiator Adray. Salutations.
The Ethiopian, who had 520 camels and 73 ships at his disposal, knew of the giant projects for nearly 10 years, ever since his sojourns to the mountains of Lebanon.
Rumors flew like woodchips about Solomon's father David's plans of building a temple in Jerusalem. However, when David died, the reports faded, only to be resurrected by Adray's message.
The Ethiopian and the Commander renewed acquaintances outside the Great Hall, which was nearly full to its capacity of 3,000 with delegates from all over the trading map. The Indias, the Arabias, Nubia, Syene, Egypt and Phoenicia. And, of course, Ethiopia, the port of Adulis, Marib in the territory of Arabian Saba, and the Kingdom's major city, Yeha.
Tamrin was Queen Makeda's respresentative in all business matters; her regent in practice, even though his titles were still limited to Chief Merchant and Ambassador and guardian, for Makeda had been on the throne less than three years following the death of her beloved father, Agabos.