The Historical David: The Real Life of an Invented Hero (30 page)

Throughout the David story, Nathan is something of a shadowy figure. He appears only three times. The first is in 2 Samuel 7, where he delivers to David God’s refusal to allow David to build the temple, and with it the promise of a continuous royal dynasty in Israel, including the promise that David’s son would be the one to build a house for God. The second is after the Bathsheba affair, in Nathan’s parable and condemnation of David. The third is here, where Nathan promotes Solomon in place of Adonijah. We have already seen that Nathan’s first two appearances are literary rather than historical, and we may thus be dubious about the third as well. Moreover, it should be noted that all three of Nathan’s appearances are directly related to Solomon—one predicting his birth, one at his birth, and one at the moment he becomes king—as if Nathan is an exclusively pro-Solomonic prophet. Even more interestingly, Nathan does not appear when a prophet is called for outside of a Solomonic context—in those cases, David has an established personal seer, named Gad. Nathan comes from nowhere to lay the groundwork for and eventually establish Solomon’s kingship. And after Solomon has attained the throne, Nathan disappears from the narrative. In short, Nathan’s very historical existence seems doubtful. He is a literary construct, introduced by the biblical authors for the sole purpose of validating Solomon in the name of God.

If we remove Nathan from the picture, then it was Bathsheba who approached David on her own. Nathan may have been introduced here in part to hide that very fact: to make Solomon’s kingship God’s will, rather than Bathsheba’s. But it makes far more sense for Solomon’s mother to advocate on his behalf, regardless of his status. Her request begins with what can only be described as a lie: “My lord, you yourself swore to your maidservant by Yahweh your God: ‘Your son Solomon shall succeed me as king, and he shall sit upon my throne’ ” (1 Kings 1:17). David never could have said this. Despite all of his machinations, despite his conspiracy with Absalom, David seems always to have realized that the eldest living son would be the one to succeed him—this is in fact the very reason that Amnon had to die, rather than simply be skipped in favor of Absalom. There is no evidence that David had any plans to remove Adonijah from the succession, much less Adonijah’s other brothers. And again, as Solomon was not David’s son in the first place, David hardly could have promised that Solomon would be king. Outsiders attain the throne only from the outside—no king willingly gives up the dynastic principle.

After Bathsheba tells David about Adonijah’s plans to make himself king—David has remained ignorant of them until now, though the feast is happening practically outside his palace window—she suggests that all of Israel is waiting to hear who David will choose to succeed him. Again, this is a lie—no one outside of this room, where Bathsheba is speaking to David, has any notion that Solomon ought to be king or has any right to be king. But Bathsheba positions David’s decision as having national importance, perhaps playing on his infirmity, giving the aged king one last chance to affect Israel’s fate. She concludes by repeating the warning of Nathan: “when my lord the king lies down with his fathers, my son Solomon and I will be regarded as traitors” (1 Kings 1:21). As before, this fear is baseless. Bathsheba and Solomon are unimportant. They have done nothing to mark themselves as traitors—at least, not until this very moment, when Bathsheba asks David to make Solomon king.

From start to finish, Bathsheba’s speech is designed to play upon David’s fragile mental state. The only truth in it is the description of Adonijah’s plans—the one thing she presents to David as new information. What she presents as something David already knew—that he had promised Solomon the throne—is the lie. David is being shrewdly manipulated here. The man who once made all of Israel dance like a marionette beneath his fingers is now rendered helpless. He acquiesces to Bathsheba’s lies: “The oath I swore to you by Yahweh, the God of Israel, that your son Solomon should succeed me as king and that he should sit upon my throne in my stead, I will fulfill this very day!” (1:30).

Some have doubted whether this exchange ever really happened.
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It is, after all, another private conversation to which the biblical authors could not have been privy, and is thus open to doubt. It also serves a clear apologetic purpose: to have David be the one to officially declare Solomon his successor, thus denying the possibility that Solomon took the throne without David’s consent (or even knowledge). We may also wonder whether Bathsheba’s lie about David having long ago declared that Solomon would be king is designed to fool David or to fool the reader. At the same time, it would not be unreasonable for Bathsheba to take advantage of David’s state and have him pronounce Solomon king, even if David was not of sound mind. Until there was a new king, David’s words still had some currency. It couldn’t hurt to be able to say that David had approved of Solomon’s kingship. Perhaps most likely, Bathsheba went to David to see for herself just how debilitated the king was. Did he have the capacity to stand in the way of Solomon’s kingship? She got her answer.

Solomon’s Anointing

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AVID IS DESCRIBED AS
giving full instructions for Solomon’s anointing. He calls for Zadok and Benaiah, the priest and general who opposed Adonijah, and tells them to take Solomon, with David’s warriors, to the Gihon spring, Jerusalem’s famous water source. There he will be anointed, the horn sounded, and the shout raised: “Long live King Solomon!” (1 Kings 1:34). Then Solomon will be taken to the palace and seated on David’s own throne. This speech is unexpectedly lucid. It seems to contain information that David would not have had access to—such as the support of his army for Solomon, which even according to the biblical account David had not been told of. And it suggests that Solomon will be not a coregent with David, but the sole king in David’s place, sitting alone on David’s throne. But a kingship was not something a man gave up while still alive. A man stopped being king only when he stopped breathing. It is hard to imagine David giving these instructions.

On the other hand, it is easy to see why it would be important from the standpoint of the authors to put this speech in David’s mouth. Again, it confirms that Solomon’s kingship, down to the fine details of his anointing and including his replacement of David rather than coregency with him, was David’s willing choice. As always, the biblical emphasis on David’s participation suggests that perhaps he was not so closely involved.

Either way, the anointing of Solomon proceeded according to plan. He was taken to the Gihon spring by Zadok, Abiathar, and David’s army and anointed with oil, and the horn was sounded. Then the biblical authors do something familiar. They tell us that “all the people shouted, ‘Long live King Solomon!,’ ” and “all the people then went up behind him, playing on flutes and rejoicing greatly, and the earth was split open by their voices” (1 Kings 1:39–40). Somehow, the private ceremony turned into a very public celebration, as if to imply that everyone in Jerusalem had both heard about the anointing of Solomon and immediately supported it. But there is no explanation for how this would have come to pass. Solomon’s anointing was a hasty affair, designed to take place before Adonijah had a chance to declare himself king—remember that Bathsheba’s conversation with David, David’s instructions, and the fulfillment of those instructions all occurred between the beginning of Adonijah’s feast and the coronation at its conclusion. There is no time for the inhabitants of Jerusalem either to have been told about Solomon’s ceremony—nor is it ever said that they were—or to have gathered at the Gihon spring. And there is no reason that they should have been overjoyed at Solomon becoming king. Probably, there would have been less dancing and more asking of the question, “Who is Solomon?” This is another example of the biblical authors using “all the people” to persuade the reader: if “all the people” supported Solomon, how could we not?

The Gihon spring is less than a kilometer from En-Rogel, where Adonijah’s feast was taking place. It is reasonable, then, that the Bible accurately portrays those attending the coronation at En-Rogel as hearing the sounds of the horn and the shouting from Solomon’s parallel ceremony. The news quickly made its way to Adonijah: Solomon had beat him to the kingship. The biblical account of the message, reflecting the continuous attempts of the authors to make Solomon’s kingship out to be almost universally popular, includes the note that “the king’s courtiers came to congratulate our lord King David” (1 Kings 1:47), which must have been confusing for Adonijah, since “all the king’s courtiers” were with him at his coronation feast. But what undoubtedly put an end to Adonijah’s ceremony, and broke up the party permanently, was the discovery that the Cherethites and the Pelethites were with Solomon. The support of all of Israel probably would not have been enough to put Adonijah on the throne—after all, it was not enough to keep Absalom there in the face of David’s royal militia. Solomon’s coronation would go unchallenged.

The feature of the biblical story that seems least probable is the suddenness of Solomon’s anointing. Opposition to Adonijah, which is readily explained, is quickly transformed into support for Solomon—even though Solomon seems to have been seeking precisely the same thing as Adonijah. People who have no stake in Solomon—not only the probably invented Nathan, but also Zadok and Benaiah and the army—throw their authority behind him with no obvious justification. Support takes time to build up, but the biblical account leaves no room for it.

In reconstructing the more historically likely course of events, we can rectify some of these inconsistencies. David’s feebleness was apparent to all. It was the motivation for Adonijah’s actions, which were more an attempt to save the kingship than to usurp it. Nevertheless, Adonijah acted unilaterally—an indication that David was truly in no shape to rule. His decision was the logical one, and the one supported by most of David’s own administration. He was the next in line, and the continuity of the dynasty was of great importance. And there is no reason to doubt Adonijah’s ability to lead.

But unilateral decisions are almost never without controversy. As David weakened, there was room for others with an eye on the throne to step up. Ironically, David was now in the same position Saul had been in so many years earlier: the first king in a hoped-for dynasty, with an assumption—though not an assurance—of lineal succession. David had seen in Saul’s kingship the possibility that an outsider could step in. Others must have thought the same about David’s. We should not see the decision to elevate Solomon as a sudden one, but rather as one that grew as David declined, in parallel with Adonijah’s moves to take power. This would best explain the recurring claim that somehow Bathsheba’s and Solomon’s lives would be endangered if Adonijah became king: the two sides had been in increasing competition all along.

With no clear end to David’s reign in sight—and thus no clear beginning for his successor—it must have been something of a waiting game. If David died, Adonijah would be the de facto king, at which point any other candidate would have a far more difficult path to the throne. In some respects, then, Adonijah did Solomon a favor by making his move while David was still alive. And Solomon’s supporters must have been ready for it when the moment came. As soon as Adonijah moved to crown himself, Solomon’s people did the same for their man. But they had no need of a large feast and a public celebration. They needed only a few men, a jug of oil, and a horn—and David’s royal bodyguards standing beside them.

There is no need to posit any participation on David’s part through all of this. He was incapacitated, nothing more than a figurehead, and one whose death all involved eagerly awaited. The real power, it is clear from Solomon’s success over Adonijah, rested in the hands of Benaiah and the Cherethites and Pelethites. We have already had occasion to observe that in a power vacuum, it is often the military that takes command, in the ancient world as today. With David incapable of leading them, his militia had the power to dictate their preferences. And when they gave their support to Solomon, he had command of the most powerful institution in Israel.

Adonijah would have realized the precariousness of his situation immediately upon hearing that Solomon had been anointed. He knew what happened after a coup to those with a rightful claim to the throne. His father had provided a blueprint. Now Solomon was in charge, and Adonijah was like one of Saul’s descendants—a constant threat that he would sway popular opinion (which he already had) and that he would attempt to regain the throne (which he undoubtedly would). Adonijah had two courses of action: flee the country, or throw himself on Solomon’s mercy. He chose the latter. He ran to the altar beside the ark in Jerusalem and clutched the horns on its corners. Everyone would have understood this as the traditional gesture of one seeking sanctuary—this is in fact exactly where that meaning of “sanctuary” comes from—a tradition that is already assumed in the earliest legal text of the Bible (Exod. 21:14).
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Solomon may have felt that he had not yet accumulated enough power to kill Adonijah, who had the support of so many. He therefore let him live—for now.

With Adonijah’s flight to the sanctuary, the debate over David’s succession came to an end. David’s eldest son lived in fear for his life. Solomon—an outsider, the son of Uriah the Hittite—sat uncontested on the throne over Judah and Israel. It would appear that Solomon had accomplished something truly remarkable. But in fact, it seems that Solomon had little to do with it. His first words in the Bible are his ruling that Adonijah should be allowed to live. Throughout all the machinations to make him king, including his coronation ceremony, Solomon is silent. Others always act on his behalf: Benaiah, Zadok, the military, and, most important, Bathsheba.
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Solomon appears to be something of a pawn. The driving force behind his kingship was the new queen mother; Solomon’s coup was really Bathsheba’s coup.