Absalom

Prologue

Absalom

Prologue

He was King David's most beautiful son, although not his favorite. Absalom, son of Maachah, one of the many women the promiscuous monarch had, always lived shadowed by his older brothers and sisters. Royal blood flowed through his veins by both sides, being the grandson of Talmai, Syrian king of Geshur, still, he knew that Israel's throne would never be his. The designated was Amnon, who lived in the palace as the preferred one.

Despite his physical attributes, he had never been worthy of his father's admiration. Both Maachah and David's offsprings, Tamar and Absalom were blessed with grace and handsomeness. From Jordan to the Black Sea there was no other compared to them, nonetheless, favoritism for Amnon was more than evident and jealousy grew between brothers, in a subtle way, but latent.

Being Tamar such a stunning young woman, fraternal love easily twisted into lust inside Amnon's spoiled and wrecked heart. The ruler's firstborn child, never saw his step-sister as such, yet like the woman he'd wanted on his bed. Obsessed with her, the prince conjured up, day and night, all the possible ways of making Tamar his woman. Because she lived with her older brother Absalom and being single and still a virgin, there was not a chance of even having her closer.

One fine morning, Amnon was in his room, staring through an arched tall window a caravan of Syrians passing near the castle's walls in hopes of, by a fortuitous gambling of fate, finding Tamar amongst the women. Absorbed in his own ramblings, the man hadn't noticed that one of his counselors had entered into his room and observed him in silence.

"Where is the landscape taking the prince's musings?" He inquired, standing next to Amnon.

"My distress goes beyond those hills and responds to the vices of my heart." Crestfallen, David's son veered to face the wise man.

"Womanizing should never be a problem to my Prince. You are gifted with good-looks, you are bold and rich. Certainly, you can have any woman you want."

"Bedding a whore is not an issue. The woman I love is forbidden, Dahuel."

"A married woman? Like father, like son." The counselor rubbed his beard and chuckled.

"I wished... I'm afraid it's more complicated than that. I'm talking about my own sister, Tamar." Shrugging, Amnon stood by the window, once again, his eyes distant to the arid plateau.

"If is your sister who you desire, I don't see any difficulties, milord."

"Oh yes, I see many. She lives under Absalom's care and you know that filial relationships between us are not precisely the most cordial ones."

"There are duties undeniable to a sister my prince..." Dahuel approached, his tone was persuasive as he spoke. "... I propose, why don't you fake illness and send her to come. Tell your father that if she's not here, you won't eat either take any infusion. Since she's your sister, her obligation is to take care of you, the prince of Israel and her older brother. Neither Absalom, nor she can refuse. Once she's here, you can convince her to get laid with you."

"That's an amazing idea Dahuel!" Beaming a crooked smile, Amnon agreed. "Go and tell my father that you've found me sick. He will come without delay, I'm sure. Then I'll ask him to send Tamar a message."

Nodding, an obedient Dahuel left to tell the king.

Next morning, Amnon waited impatiently lying on his bed, pretending to be ill. At mid-morning, Tamar entered the prince's dormitory, flanked by her maids who would assist her to prepare food and concoctions. Filled with desire, Amnon's eyes blazed after his sister walked in. With naivety and complacency, the young woman smiled, plate in hand to feed the prince. Like a goddess, the lady moved with grace. Perfumed with alabaster oil, her glossy and wavy mane cascaded over her tanned shoulders. Amnon trailed with lascivious eyes, every inch of her perfect body, her curves impregnated unpretentious to the translucency of her fine purple robe.

"You've sent for me brother, and I'm here to fulfill my duty as a sister. I'll take good care of you and soon you'll be better." Tamar spoke in a soft and gentle voice, then she sat by her brother's side on the bed. While he ate, she placed a motherly kiss on his forehead.

"Indeed, Tamar. The prince wishes you, and only you to take care of him. Ask the maids to go, please." Amnon played well his act and Tamar, to please her brother, ordered the servants to leave. Like a loving nurse, Tamar fed Amnon and gave him cider. Once done, the princess started cleaning the room. "Where are you going, Tamar? Stay with me! I'm in love with you! Be mine today, I beg!" David's favorite grabbed his sister by the shoulders.

"What you say it's forbidden! We're brother and sister and I'm a virgin! You would only bring shame to me and to our house!" A tearful Tamar refused.

"I don't care about ruin or shame, I only want you in my bed! I am the prince of Israel, David's firstborn, and I demand you to be my woman now!" Blindfolded by carnal desire, Amnon hurled the girl to his bed. Placing himself on top of hers, he ragged her robes with violence and made Tamar his.

"Stop, Amnon! Please!" She begged, but her pleas only excited him more.

Once Ammon finished, far from feeling satisfied, he found her repulsive. Like a cheap prostitute, the prince threw Tamar off his room. Weeping, the princess hustled out her father's castle ashamed of herself. After telling her escort, she asked to be taken forthwith to Absalom's palace in Geshur.

***I wrote this short novella first in Spanish a year ago. It's my twisted and much more gory version of Absalom's story narrated in the Second book of Samuel.