Meet Abidan, Prince of Benjamin

Prince of Israel Series on Kindle Vella features twelve fictional princes modeled after the Princes of Israel mentioned in the Old Testament in the book of Numbers, Chapter One verses five-fifteen.

Numbers 1:5-15

Allow me to introduce my character, Abidan, the Prince of Benjamin!

At the beginning of the story, Abidan starts off as kind of a know-it-all and a snob, but he’s also a philanthropist so he does have some redeeming qualities. Through the development of his story, he learns humility and becomes a bit of a philosopher..

In the book Prince of Israel Series on Kindle Vella, he starts off arriving to the Tribute Festival a day early so he can help distribute grant funding to applicants for an endowment he started privately. He thinks he needs to prove he knows everything but what he really needs is to be humbled. Until he sees Mira, the prophet’s daughter and suddenly can’t remember his own name. Being a proud Benjamite, he never wanted to marry a Levite and yet here he is fumbling over his words and making a complete fool of himself in front of the most beautiful woman he’s ever met, who happens to be a Levite.

A little more about Abidan: he is 25 years old and the oldest prince at the festival. He lives in the modern-day city of Ramallah, West Bank, Palestine.

Abidan is an enemy to everyone except Nahshon (Shon), Prince of Judah, who is his mentor. They hang out briefly with Shelumiel, Prince of Simeon, but mainly because they’re close in age.

You can read more about Abidan, and all the other characters, in the Prince of Israel Series on Kindle Vella.
 
Here are a few paragraphs of a chapter from Abidan’s story:
 
Once again, Abidan entered the dining room, just wanting to be alone but knowing there was no possible way. The room was filling up fast and there wasn’t a table that didn’t have at least one person already seated.

He was expected to mingle and participate in the events of the festival, not just hole up in his hotel room, award grant funding, and deliver his tribute to the Levites.

Seeing Nahshon sitting alone with just his advisor, and a black eye, Abidan headed in his direction.

“Nice shiner.” Abidan slid into the chair beside Nahshon. His advisor, Raja, sat on the other side of Khalil, Nahshon’s advisor.

“Yeah, thanks for coming to my defense.”

“Whatever. You brought that on yourself.” Abidan rolled his eyes.

“Gentlemen, are these seats taken?” They were interrupted by an unfamiliar voice, and Abidan had to do a double take when he glanced up. “Is there room for my daughter and me to join you?”

All four men rose to their feet as quickly as they could scramble up from the table. Nahshon was the first to speak. “President Goshen, what an honor. Of course you and your lovely daughter can join us.”

Abidan was speechless, and his jaw dropped, dumbfounded that the woman he’d been dreaming about for over twenty-four hours was standing beside him, waiting for someone to invite her to sit. He scrambled to pull out a chair for Mira as a means of welcoming her.

“Ah, Your Highness, you’re welcome to call me Aaron,” the prophet said, sitting on the other side of his daughter. “And this is my daughter, Mira.”

“Mira…” Abidan whispered, his eyes glassing over as he gazed at the elegant young lady at his side. “I’m honored to meet you.”

Raja snickered from the other side of the table, but Abidan ignored his advisor.

Nahshon was more explicit with his teasing and spoke directly to Mira. “The Prince of Benjamin has been waiting his whole life to meet you.”

Mira giggled. “Oh, we’ve met before, Your Highness.”

“We have?” Abidan tried to gather his bearings. “I mean, of course we have. Not sure when exactly.”

“Four years ago, we were seated at the same table for the Feast of the Lamb, and I asked you to pass the salt and pepper.” She glanced at her hands folded in her lap and spoke quietly. “But you probably wouldn’t remember because I was just a little girl back then.”

“How old are you now?” Abidan cringed at being so forward.

“Twenty,” she said.

“Oh, twenty is sooo much better than nineteen.” His voice held way too much excitement at the prospect of pursuing a woman who was no longer a teenager. Not that he would have been dissuaded by a few months. She giggled again, and Abidan continued to embarrass himself. “I’m actually glad I don’t remember you since it would have been inappropriate for me to be attracted to a sixteen-year-old.”

Abidan glanced up at Mira’s father, the prophet Aaron Goshen, who seemed to be holding in laughter.

“Not that I’m attracted to your daughter.” Abidan glanced at Mira. “Not that I’m not attracted to you. I mean, I don’t know what I mean. I’ll just shut up now.”

“Oh, Your Highness.” Nahshon patted Abidan on the shoulder playfully. “We are going to razz you about this conversation for years to come.”

“Thank you.” Abidan gulped. “I appreciate your willingness to help me relive my embarrassment.”

Aaron shifted the subject by asking Nahshon about his bruise. “What happened to your eye, Your Highness?”

“I had an unfortunate collision with the Prince of Simeon’s fist.”

“And how did Prince Shelumiel fare from the incident?”

“I’ll let you know when he returns from the emergency room.” They all laughed at Nahshon’s joke, even though it was anything but. “Of course hitting me with his left fist hurt much less than when he hit the wall beside my head with his right fist. That may need a cast.”

“Oh, my goodness.” Mira sat up in shock. “Such violence.”

“I agree,” Abidan said. “I find it distasteful that two gentlemen would feel the need to settle differences in such an undignified manner.”

“Indeed,” Mira said, then batted her eyelashes at Abidan. “You’ve never gotten into a fight, have you, Your Highness?”

“Of course not, princess—I mean, of course not, Mira.”

She giggled again. “I’ve always dreamed of being a princess.”

“That could be arranged. I mean, oh my gosh, I can’t believe I just said that. Will you look at the time? Don’t you think it’s time to leave for the lighting ceremony? Or to have the main course or at the very least a salad?”

Everyone else at the table, including the prophet, was laughing at Abidan. He could feel his face heating with humility. He wanted to crawl under the table and not leave until the room had cleared of people.

Aaron pulled his face into mock seriousness. “Your Highness, I’m going to be very busy at the lighting ceremony this evening. Do you think you might be able to escort my daughter there and make sure she makes it safely back to the hotel? With her chaperone, of course.”

“I would love to escort your daughter to the lighting ceremony.” Abidan shook off his stupor. “I mean… I would be honored.”

“Wonderful,” Aaron said, clapping his hands together once with feigned delight. “You will take a load off my mind knowing she will be protected.”

“I will protect you,” Abidan whispered, gazing into Mira’s eyes. Realizing how husky his voice sounded, he straightened up and returned his attention to the prophet. “Yes, I will protect your daughter. With my advisor and her chaperone accompanying us, of course.”

“I would expect nothing less.” Aaron nodded with a barely contained grin.

They were interrupted by multiple servers approaching their table with covered platters, which were placed before each person. The lids were lifted to reveal a rotisserie braised Cornish hen with whipped mashed potatoes served in grilled potato skins, and a side of asparagus drizzled with a hollandaise sauce.

Notwithstanding the assumption that the chefs had perfectly seasoned each item, Abidan leaned closer to Mira and, in a soft voice, asked if she would please pass the salt and pepper.

Abidan left the dining room in a much better mood than when he’d entered, and with Mira Goshen on his arm. As they descended the staircase into the atrium of the lobby, Abidan was reminded of the previous day when he’d watched this elegant young lady float down the stairs surrounded by bodyguards. Tonight, he was honored to be her sole bodyguard.

You can read more about Abidan, and all the other characters, in the Prince of Israel Series on Kindle Vella.

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