The Princess's Sleeves

The end of summer always meant two things to Tamar: the season to pick pomegranates was being left behind and the week of celebrating her birthday was near. She'd requested yards of silk and linen for gifts this year, in hopes to make garments for the other women in the palace, yet she couldn't stop thinking of the "surprise" her father had promised. Today, she was determined to find where he'd hidden it, or at least get a hint.

Tamar rose early, before the housemaids and nannies had risen to start the day. She held her sandals in her hand as she tiptoed past her parents' room and up the stairs to her father's grooming room. Her father, Prince Absalom, was notorious for his hair. At the end of every year, when it became too heavy, Absalom would cut his luscious tresses. As a spectacle for his supporters, he weighed it, and it would weigh about five pounds by the royal measure. Tamar peered through the carved keyhole into her father’s grooming room, getting a glimpse of a locked chest. It was brass with a mosaic of florals carved into it and leather handles on either side. This must be for me!

She pulled the door and slid through, sucking in her stomach and contorting her neck like a kitten finding its way through uncharted territory, though opening the door fully would have made her entry far smoother. Tamar smiled as she drew near the chest, realizing her name was branded on it, over the family crest. Opening its latches, her nose was hit with a stale odor of cloth moistened by years of hot summers and poor circulation. She coughed as silently as she could, covering her mouth with one hand and waiving away the stench with the other. More curious than confused, Tamar reached in and drew a what looked like a royal robe. It was spun silk with chiffon sleeves and buttons of solid gold.

"What brings you into my grooming room, Tamar?" Prince Absalom asked, yielding a startled squeal from his daughter. His towering stature seemed even more so from her crouched position. "Answer me, daughter."

"Oh? Well, Father, I missed you but did not wish to disturb your sleep. So I thought I would sit in your chair until I heard you wake up." Tamar lied, "But then I saw this chest with my name on it and thought it could be a surprise gift, for my birthday."

"Oh, my dear Tamar, this chest surpasses even my knowledge of your birth. It belonged to my young sister, whose name I've given to you." Prince Absalom gently took the robe from his daughter's hands. "But this robe she wore is like a burning coal over her head. Even now, my hands burn with vengeance for the man who violated her on the day she tore the sleeves of this robe."

"Father, I don't understand."

"Come to the balcony with me." He replied, taking her hand and guiding her through the double doors. This balcony was where he'd emerge, showcasing his freshly cut hair to the people and announcing the weight of his discarded locs that year. Prince Absalom was the most handsome of King David's sons, regarded as 'flawless' by all the men and women of the kingdom. His popularity and support were heavily impacted by his perceived attractiveness across the land. His late sister was no different; known for her unique beauty, she was recognized for her gorgeous looks. Unfortunately, her beauty did not bring her the same fate as her striking brother.

"Tamar, my daughter, this year you will be seventeen. You're old enough to know the truth about your family's history."

Under the rising sun, Prince Absalom recalled an afternoon that shook his core. He recalled his half-brother Amnon, the least of King David's sons, in his sight. Amnon fell in lust with their sister, Tamar, and plotted to steal her innocence. He drew her to his chamber by pretending to be ill, and when she brought him special food and a cloth for his fever, he raped her. As it happens with such predators, Amnon's violent lust turned to intense hatred, and he sent Tamar away in disgrace. The robe in that chest was the very same robe Tamar wore as she ran to her chamber, shaking from grief and tearing the sleeves of her robe.

"Your grandfather, King David's failure to punish Amnon struck us both like arrows to the heart." Prince Absalom reflected, " But I avenged your aunt and had Amnon removed from the kingdom."

"Where does he live now?"

"He does not live." he replied

Prince Absalom guided his daughter out of the room and kissed her on the crown of her head. Despite her willowy stature, Tamar's head only reached his chest.

"Since you've risen first, you can instruct the chefs on what we shall have for breakfast." he told Tamar, closing the door behind him.

During breakfast, Tamar's mind wandered from her father's gabbing. She fiddled with the fruit on her plate and plucked flowers from the table's centerpiece. Inspiration struck her as she watched the yellow water-lilies mend with vibrant figs. Her golden fork and spoon were like buttons and collars of the robe she could envision in that moment.

-

With her birthday weeks behind her and the vision of her aunt at the front of her mind, Tamar's determination to create the perfect robe was unwavering. She had been given enough fabric to complete four garments, not nearly enough for King David's ten concubines. Now, she had set out to create a robe to honor her late aunt's regality. Its train would fill the courtyard like a bride in a temple hall, an experience her aunt Tamar had never received due to strident customs for marriage regarding purity. The robe was dyed the rich purple of fig skins using the finest wine of the palace and its buttons were solid gold. The bow collar was embroidered with lilies on both ends, and the tips of its ruffled sleeves grazed above the knees. Every detail was calculated, and Tamar's care grew as she edged closer to her finished creation. Perhaps it was her newfound drive (or it could be the effect of working diligently for weeks on end), but when Tamar looked at herself in her design, she felt like a woman. It's ready.

On the seventh day of the Feast of Tabernacles, Tamar prepared to reveal her anticipated design. After the people had eaten, she slipped away with her attendant who helped her into the stately garment.

" You're the first to see it Miriam... what do you think?" The timidity in Tamar's voice even surprised her. With all that she devoted to this project, would it be a disservice to the legacy of her aunt, or even her father? Would it unveil decades-old wounds?

"Tamar..." Miriam started, "I have served the royal family since Prince Absalom was learning his words, now that he is a man of endless speeches. Your aunt Tamar was the pinnacle of beauty and grace throughout her life. This robe would be fit for her crowning as queen. I have yet to see or feel a garment of such splendor."

Miriam's word of encouragement brought them both to tears. She wiped her young mistress's tears and straightened the waste of her robe. The two made their way to the courtyard, where a crowd of friends and family were gathered. Gasps and wows filled the air as they marveled at her spectacular creation.

"Father, I've finished my robe." Tamar smiled, fighting her natural instinct to act bashfully. She'd will herself to be powerful, the opposite of how her aunt was made to feel in her lifetime. As she looked up at Prince Absalom, then to her mother and her siblings, Tamar felt in her spirit that she was bold. Suddenly, she realized, it wasn't about the robe or any other garment. It was about determination and heart to see a mission to its end. The heart she had to honor someone who couldn't restore honor to themself, and someone that the masses turned away from. Her father's approval was still a desire of her heart, but it wouldn't break her spirit, nor would it change her perceptions.

The guests waited for Prince Absalom's reaction before they could express themselves. They looked at one another impatiently as the Prince settled his mind. Finally, he started an applause, which was followed by an eruption of praise over Princess Tamar and her spectacular design. The applause waned, then erupted once more, as Prince Absalom drew his daughter in for a hug. How would the years have gone by if King David had shown the same support for his late daughter? Their family would never know. All they could do was mend what they had, and the Princess's robe will forever be woven into their history.