We pick up the story with the sons of Esau. You remember Esau. Jacob's brother, the one who traded his birthright for a bowl of lentil stew. Well, his descendants, after some time, return to Seir. And they weren't exactly bringing flowers. Ginzberg, drawing on various midrashic sources in Legends of the Jews, paints a stark picture: they "slew all the inhabitants of the place, men, women, and children, sparing only fifty lads and maidens."
A brutal beginning, no doubt. The lads were enslaved, the maidens taken as wives. And, adding insult to injury, the sons of Esau helped themselves to all the possessions of the original inhabitants, dividing the land amongst themselves. Conquest complete.
But what happens after the dust settles? What happens when you need to… govern?
Well, according to the legend, these descendants of Esau decided they needed a king. Makes sense. But here’s where it gets interesting. The account in Legends of the Jews tells us that the treachery during the war – the very act of conquest – had created so much "hatred and bitterness" among them that they couldn't bring themselves to choose a ruler from their own ranks! Can you imagine such distrust?
So, who did they pick? A complete outsider. They chose Bela, the son of Beor, a warrior sent to them by King Agnias. He was, in a word, impressive. Brave, wise, and handsome. The complete package. Apparently, no one among the allied troops could compare.
They crowned Bela, built him a palace, and showered him with riches: silver, gold, gems. He lived in "great opulence," the story tells us. And for thirty years, he reigned "happily." It’s a classic tale of the outsider made good.
But even kings aren't immune to fate. Bela eventually met his end in a war against… Joseph and his brethren. Yes, the very Joseph of the coat of many colors, and his brothers, the founders of the tribes of Israel.
So, what does this all mean? It’s more than just a story of conquest and kingship. It’s a reflection on the cyclical nature of power, the inherent distrust that can arise even among those who share a common goal, and the enduring conflict between Esau and Jacob, which, in this telling, extends even to their descendants and their kings. It reminds us that even outside the central narrative of the Jewish people, there are complex and compelling stories unfolding, stories that intersect with and influence the main drama in unexpected ways. And it makes you wonder: how many other stories are out there, just waiting to be told?