In the Shadow of Jezebel (28 page)

“It
will
be done,” she said, “and this is how you will do it. You’ll appear in the Throne Hall whenever central court is held, winning the respect and affection of the Judean people. On the days Jehoiada presides over Temple matters, you’ll show your support for the Yahwists. On Mattan’s days, you’ll show your allegiance to Baal. And at
every
opportunity, you will speak ill of your abba, the once great King Jehoram, who chooses to abdicate his responsibility rather than rule your saba Jehoshaphat’s mighty kingdom.”

“I will not betray Abba Jehoram!” Hazi shouted.

“Guards!” Her single cry brought six Carites from behind her bedchamber curtain. Sheba saw recognition on Hazi’s features. “These men who were your comrades needed to hear that your loyalty to King Jehoram remains strong. The royal guard swears
to protect Judah’s ruler, and I’ve hand-selected these men to protect you, Hazi—from yourself.”

“But I’m not Judah’s ruler,” he said, pleading with Ima and with the men he once called friends.

“
We
are Judah’s rulers now, my son.”

Sheba gasped, and Hazi’s head snapped toward Ima Thaliah. “No. Abba Jehoram remains king until he draws his last breath . . .” Hazi’s words died, and Sheba’s heart nearly stopped.

“Ima, did you kill . . . ?”

Ima patted Sheba’s hand. “No, my dear. It suits me to keep your abba alive, writhing in his own filth until Hazi gains the people’s favor.” She jerked her head toward Sheba, and the Carites advanced on her like crows on carrion.

Sheba screamed and Hazi fought them, but his skills were no match for the men who had trained him in combat. Four of the guards restrained the prince while Sheba flailed and kicked at the other two. Ima Thaliah whispered quietly to Mattan until her children were subdued.

“Ima, you can’t do this,” Hazi screamed. “I won’t let you!”

The queen nodded, and one of the Carites backhanded Sheba, sending her to the floor. White-hot pain burst into her left cheek. Heart pounding, tears flowing, she made no sound as she covered her throbbing cheekbone.

Hazi broke free from the Carites and fell at the queen’s feet. “I’ll do it!” he said, sobbing. “I’ll do whatever you say, but stop this. Stop hurting the women I love.”

Ima Thaliah caught the leading Carite’s eye and signaled all six to leave the chamber. Sheba sat where she’d fallen, remaining on the floor in hopes of averting further violence. Mattan leered at her with a carnivorous grin while Ima combed Hazi’s hair with her fingernails, soothing, calming.

The queen’s eyes—and her words—were aimed at Sheba. “Obedience is all I ask. Those you love will be safe—as long as you remain loyal, completing the tasks for which you were chosen.”

Sheba swallowed hard, refusing to answer with the phrase she’d learned as a child:
I am pleased to do
anything you ask
of me, my queen.
Her silence wrapped her in a thick darkness. Heavy. Binding. Stifling. She could hardly breathe. This oppression was life in the palace—life devoted to Baal.

Yahweh, help me!
She closed her eyes again, this time remembering her husband, his love, and the God he’d revealed. How different her life had become in Yahweh’s Temple—the light and life she felt there. Both Baal and Yahweh required blood sacrifice, it was true, but Baal was fickle and scheming, requiring human blood and pain. Yahweh offered atonement through the blood of perfect animals and fine harvests—gifts from His own hands lovingly returned to Him, purposefully sacrificed. Obedience to the one true God was a response to His worth. Baal’s rituals—and obedience to his leaders—were base attempts to manipulate through deceit and torture.

“Well, Sheba?” Ima interrupted her contemplation, and Sheba’s eyes were truly opened. “Do you see that obedience must be unswerving and without question?”

Overwhelmed by peace, she felt warmth radiate from within her. “Yes, Ima, I will be more obedient than you can imagine.” Ima need not know that Sheba intended her obedience for Yahweh alone.

Ima grabbed a handful of Hazi’s hair and tilted his head back to hold his gaze. “Did you hear your sister? You will do well to imitate her obedience, my son. Learn from her.”

She released his hair, letting his head fall forward. “Yes, Ima. I am pleased to do anything you ask of me.”

Sheba’s heart twisted—her brother was broken. She stood, pulled Hazi to his feet, and retrieved the golden tongs from the couch. “I must return to the Temple before my husband becomes suspicious. I’ll have Hazi escort me to my chamber.”

Ima Thaliah undoubtedly saw that it was Sheba leading Hazi out the door, but she didn’t try to stop them. She was evidently finished with her threats—for now.

P
SALM
22:19–21

But you, L
ORD
, do not be far from me. You are my strength; come quickly to help me. Deliver me from the sword, my precious life from the power of the dogs. Rescue me from the mouth of the lions.

W
hile Hazi and Jehosheba were at the palace, Jehoiada retired to the second priest’s chamber to dress for tonight’s service. It would be his first public sacrifice in almost a full moon cycle, and he was eager to add a personal offering afterward, a thank offering for Yahweh’s faithfulness during these difficult days. Nathanael secured the ephod at his shoulders with two sardonyx remembrance stones and attached the breastpiece with its golden chains and rings.

Jehoiada released a satisfied sigh, welcoming the weight of the high priest’s garments. “Thank you, my friend.”

The second priest stood. “It’s a privilege.” His eyes shone with a peculiar light, drawing Jehoiada from his own circumstances.

“Why are you so happy these days?” He appraised the young priest, provoking a full-blown blush.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Nathanael busied himself tidying his small chamber, and Jehoiada settled onto a cushion at the low-lying table, pretending to study a scroll. He’d given
his own chamber to Zibiah and Keilah for their spinning while they waited on Hazi’s and Sheba’s return. In truth, he was glad for an opportunity to uncover the mystery of Nathanael’s almost bubbly behavior.

Then, the clue he needed. Nathanael began whistling.

Jehoiada grinned. Men only whistled when there was a woman. He began rehearsing his second priest’s schedule. The change had occurred during Sheba’s recovery, but who could Nathanael have met? He never left the Temple. Thinking through his second’s schedule, Jehoiada started at sunrise: cleansing at the Molten Sea, gates open, sunrise sacrifice. He could have met a woman at one of the sacrifices while greeting the crowds in Jehoiada’s absence. After the morning service, Nathanael delegated duties to other priests. Midday, he brought a meal for Jehoiada and Jehosheba to enjoy in their chamber. Most days he stayed to eat, as did Hazi, Zibiah, and—

“Keilah!” Jehoiada said aloud, startling himself and his second priest.

Nathanael’s whistling stopped, face paling to match the limestone walls. “What about her?”

Jehoiada felt his own color drain. What could he say? Jehosheba had told him Keilah’s story, but did Nathanael know? “She seems like a nice woman.”

Nathanael returned to his tasks, and Jehoiada chided himself.
What if Nathanael
interprets my response as approval? Do I approve?
He wasn’t sure. He had hoped Nathanael’s abba would find a nice girl and arrange a marriage for the young man.

“My lord, are you all right?”

Jehoiada looked up, startled. “I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

“Well, you keep sighing as if deeply troubled. Is it something I said? Something I’ve . . . done?”

The two men stared at each other in silence for an interminable moment. Jehoiada caught himself sighing again. “Oh, this is ridiculous!” he said, standing abruptly, startling the poor young priest. “I’m concerned about your marriage, Nathanael.”

“I wasn’t aware I had a marriage to be concerned about.”

“Yes, well . . .” Jehoiada grinned, squeezing the back of his
neck. He’d started gutting this fish. Now he had to fry it. “I’ve noticed you seem to enjoy Keilah’s company, but I wonder if there might be another young maiden—perhaps a girl from your hometown—who might be more . . . well, a girl your abba might be more comfortable welcoming into your family.”

Nathanael’s jovial air disappeared. “You mean, because I’m a priest, I should marry a virgin.” The edge in his voice was unmistakable. “I’ve only spoken with Keilah a few times. I haven’t asked her to
marry
 me.”

“I simply think you should speak with your abba before you set your heart on any woman.”

“I know my abba’s opinion on the matter,” he said. “I rejected his choice, and he’s left me to my own stubborn heart.” Nathanael raised both eyebrows, uncharacteristically defiant. “Those were his exact words.”

Jehoiada knew to tread lightly. What did he know of giving advice to a son? “May I ask why you rejected your abba’s choice?”

“Because I didn’t love her.” He paused, glancing at his feet. “And she loved another.”

Jehoiada nodded, realizing he’d wandered into painful territory. “I’m not one to give romantic counsel, my friend, but hear me out. Sometimes obedience comes first—and love comes later.”

Nathanael shook his head and gave a mirthless laugh. “That’s easy for you to say.”

“Easy? You of all people know my marriage hasn’t been easy.”

Nathanael’s features softened. “Easy, no. But you had Yahweh’s undeniable direction from the Thummim.”

Jehoiada pondered the words, remembering how the Thummim had silenced his doubts on his way to the negotiations. “It’s true that the Urim and Thummim made the initial decision less confusing, but both Jehosheba and I made a choice to believe Yahweh ordained our marriage. We choose every day to see each other as a gift from the Lord.”

“How can I know if Yahweh has given Keilah to me? Do I have your permission to at least pursue a friendship? To speak with her freely as I enjoy speaking with Lady Jehosheba, Lady Zibiah, and Prince Hazi?”

“Surely you understand that it’s not the same, Nathanael. Keilah is a widow, and you are unmarried. Decorum dictates certain precautions be taken—”

“And I would never place Keilah or myself in a compromising position.” His jaw was set, his gaze determined.

Jehoiada returned his stare, testing the man’s mettle. His usually compliant second priest didn’t budge. Unable to hide a grin, Jehoiada held up his hands in surrender. “Yes, my friend. You have my permission to pursue a
friendship
with Keilah, but please be careful. I’d hate to see you or Keilah get hurt by any misunderstandings.”

Nathanael’s relieved smile was stolen by heavy pounding on his door. Before he could answer, Zabad burst in. “Hurry, we have news.” He was gone as quickly as he’d come.

Jehoiada’s heart fell at the despair he’d glimpsed on Zabad’s face. He turned to Nathanael, finding concern etched on his features too. Without a word, both men hurried toward Jehoiada’s chamber next door.

Sheba waited for Jehoiada outside their chamber door, knowing he might blame Hazi for her bruised face. Her brother hadn’t spoken a word all the way back to the high priest’s chamber, where he waited now, surrounded by his wife and friends.

Zabad emerged from Nathanael’s chamber. “They’re coming out.”

Sheba braced herself for Jehoiada’s reaction as Zabad hurried past and entered the neighboring chamber. The moment Jehoiada saw her, he gasped and stopped walking.

Clearly struggling for control, he approached slowly and cupped her face. “Are you all right? Who did this?” Before she could answer, his anger rose. “I’ll kill him! Where’s Hazi? He was supposed to pro—”

“Hazi was beaten more severely than me, Jehoiada.” She watched her words hit their mark, compassion softening his angry features. “Not physically beaten, Jehoiada, but Ima made terrible threats, and watchmen had beaten one of his pregnant wives.”

His fury ebbed with a deep sigh. “Where is he? How can we help him?”

This was the man she loved. Protective, yes. But compassionate and caring to the core. “He’s inside our chamber. He hasn’t spoken since we left Ima’s chamber. Perhaps you can reassure him of Yahweh’s power and presence. I believe all he can see right now is Ima’s brutality and the prison of his birthright.”

Jehoiada pulled her into a fierce embrace. “I’ll talk to Hazi, but I must know what happened to you.”

Absorbing her husband’s strength, she let her first tear fall. “Zev and Zabad were separated from us at the door. Hazi resisted Ima’s demands and threats, but Ima had bribed Carites to overpower Hazi and strike me.” She swallowed the panic that rose at the memory. “I’m afraid she’s broken him, Jehoiada.”

After a final squeeze, he kissed her forehead and released her. “Come, let’s talk to your brother.” He opened their door, letting her enter first.

Keilah stood in the far corner, holding Samson in the sling around her waist. Nathanael moved away from her when they entered, joining Zabad and Zev, who stood like sentinels in the center of the room. Tucked behind the guards were Zibiah and Hazi, seated on the embroidered couch. Hazi looked twelve years old, his hair mussed, his cheeks wet with tears. Sheba’s heart shattered at the sight.

Jehoiada nudged past her and the guards, kneeling before the prince but remaining silent.

Hazi lifted his head slowly to address Yahweh’s high priest. “I cannot return to your Temple, Jehoiada—ever. Too many lives are at risk.”

“Hazi, please.” Sheba rushed to Jehoiada’s side, cradling her brother’s hands. “Yahweh is the only way to fight Ima and Jezebel.”

Jehoiada laid his hands on top of Sheba’s, quieting his wife. “Your sister is right, my friend. Only by Yahweh’s strength can we defeat this darkness.”

Hazi gently removed his hands and stood, bringing everyone else to their feet as well. “I learned today that no one can defeat
Ima and the Gevirah.” He offered a sad smile to Sheba and then turned to Jehoiada. “Zibiah may attend morning sacrifices and continue her visits with Sheba, but I’ll send Zev to retrieve her. I can’t risk the lives of my other wives and children for a god who refuses to display his power.” He gently but firmly placed his hand on Zibiah’s back. “Come, Wife. We’re expected at the palace.”

“Wait . . . Brother.” Jehoiada grabbed his arm, halting the prince. “Choose Yahweh. You’re a strong leader, and you have the loyalty of the people. Walk in the ways of David and your saba Jehoshaphat. Yahweh will deliver you if you choose Him.”

He pointed at Sheba’s purple cheek. “Where was Yahweh when the Carite hit your wife? When they beat my Tekoan wife who bears my child? I won’t risk those I love for an invisible god.”

He turned to go, and Jehoiada tried to stop him again, but Zev blocked his attempt. “No, my friend. The prince has given you his decision. You must obey.”

Hazi hesitated, head bowed. “I know it’s difficult—and dangerous—for Sheba to continue communication with Ima Thaliah, but if Yahweh worship is to survive in Judah, Sheba must court Ima’s favor. But I can’t help.” He grabbed Zibiah’s elbow and fairly dragged her out of the chamber.

Nathanael rushed to Keilah and Samson, who remained safely tucked in the corner. After a few private whispers, he turned to Jehoiada. “I’ll escort Keilah to the Sur Gate and return to discuss tonight’s twilight service.” Keilah kissed Sheba’s cheek as they left, and Nathanael said over his shoulder, “You’re a brave woman, Sheba. I’m proud to call you my friend.”

As the door clicked shut, Zabad lingered in the chamber awkwardly. Jehoiada ignored him.

Thoroughly focused on his wife, the high priest escorted her to the couch and kissed her bruised cheek. “I can’t bear the thought of someone hurting you, and I don’t care what Hazi says. I can’t willingly send my wife back into the lions’ den.” He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head.

Zabad now stood looming over them. Why was he still here? Sheba wasn’t sure whom she could trust after discovering Ima
had bribed Temple guards. Even if Zabad was as trustworthy as an old pair of sandals, she wasn’t comfortable with the chief gatekeeper delving into personal matters.

Surprising the couple, Zabad knelt beside Jehoiada. “If you don’t mind, my lord, I believe I must speak freely as chief keeper of the threshold. I need to know exactly what your wife discussed with the queen.” He lifted an eyebrow at Sheba. “And perhaps Lady Jehosheba should tell
you
what happened on our way to the palace.”

She’d hoped Zabad would forget about her private meeting with Hazi in Zev’s chambers. “It was nothing, really.” Those words elicited a raised eyebrow from her husband as well, and when she recounted the story—including the part about rendering Hazi breathless, speechless, and possibly childless—both men chuckled, lightening the mood considerably.

Jehoiada brushed her cheek. “All right, my love, are you ready to tell us about your visit with the queen?”

Sheba breathed deeply, bracing herself for the memories and the emotions the account would likely stir, but her husband quieted her with his finger on her lips.

“May I first say that I’m very proud of you? You seem almost stronger after a grueling meeting with the queen of Judah than you’ve been in weeks.” He leaned in and kissed her—right in front of Zabad! “Now tell us how Yahweh made you stronger in the midst of battle.”

Cheeks burning, she wasn’t sure where to start. “Well . . .” The golden tongs lay on the table behind Jehoiada, unseen as yet by Yahweh’s high priest. She reached for them, and his eyes rounded like saucers.

“Did you smuggle those out of the palace?” He cradled them like a precious jewel.

“No, they’re a ‘gift’ from Mattan.” She acknowledged her husband’s raised brow. “I know. The message I was supposed to deliver was something about Baal’s high priest showing goodwill, but he actually cursed the tongs and divined some sort of catastrophe originating from within the Temple. Isn’t that ridiculous?”