In the Shadow of Jezebel (35 page)

The guards had left the door cracked open in their hurried
departure, allowing sounds from a Throne Hall assembly to drift up the grand stairway. A rhythmic chant drew Sheba out the door, down the wide stairway, and toward the courtroom—a place usually reserved for men, and never appropriate for a woman large with child as Sheba was now. Still, the chanting drew her, the words becoming clear.

“Bless our new King Hazi! Bless our new King Hazi! Bless our new King—”

The cheering faded as Sheba strode toward Hazi’s throne, leaving scandalous gasps and whispered judgments in her wake.

“She shouldn’t show herself in public like that,” one old commoner grumbled.

Sheba stopped and met the old man’s gaze. “Why shouldn’t the daughter of a dead king beg for her abba’s last shred of dignity?”

The Throne Hall fell utterly silent, and Jehoiada stepped into her path, Zabad at his side. What was he doing among this rabble? Distrust, betrayal, accusation—all silenced when he held out his hand to escort her to Hazi’s throne.

Zabad followed them, and the three halted before the new king’s elevated dais. Jehoiada bowed. “Your sister and I humbly ask that you allow us to bury King Jehoram in the City of David.”

Sheba’s heart nearly leapt from her chest. How had Jehoiada discovered Ima’s plan to burn Abba’s body? She realized Yahweh had already been at work.

“You’ve heard my advisors’ counsel and the people’s wishes, Jehoiada. My abba is refused the right of burial in King David’s family tombs.” Hazi’s face was chiseled stone.

Sheba began to tremble with rage. How could he sit on
Abba’s
throne so cold, so unfeeling? How dare he—

“And I will not challenge my king’s command,” Jehoiada replied calmly. “I simply ask that you allow me to take your abba’s body, wrap it in spices, and lay it in the tomb of a dear friend, my lord. I will trouble you no further on the matter.”

Sheba shot a confused glance at the priest beside her. Who was this man, so eloquent and calm when his fury and bluster were needed?

“Your request is granted, Jehoiada.” Hazi nodded condescendingly and waved them away like pesky insects, leaning over to chat with a royal cousin.

Jehoiada gathered her under his wing, hurrying them up the aisle and out the double-cedar doors. “Come, my love, before your ima hears of your brother’s decision and forces him to change his mind.”

2 C
HRONICLES
22:1, 3

The people of Jerusalem made Ahaziah, Jehoram’s youngest son, king in his place. . . . He too followed the ways of the house of Ahab, for his mother encouraged him to act wickedly.

S
eething, Sheba let Jehoiada lead her out of the Throne Hall but stopped when they reached the grand stairway. “Who is this
dear
friend
whose tomb will house my abba’s body?”

Jehoiada couldn’t have looked more surprised if she’d slapped him. He shuffled her to a quiet corner, away from Carite guards and watchmen, who had already perked to their conversation. “I’ve just come from Obadiah’s estate in David’s City. He loves Jehoram, and I’m sure he’ll willingly share his family tomb.” He paused, lifted an accusing eyebrow, and folded his arms across his broad chest. “I know why
I
was in the Throne Hall, but why were
you
there—with our child in your belly?”

“I was about to scream at my brother, but you didn’t give me the satisfaction.” Hesitantly, she considered his eerie calm. “What’s wrong with you?” She stomped her foot. “Why aren’t you yelling?”

He gathered her into his arms, hiding her in his warmth and strength. “Why aren’t you crying?”

She gasped and pulled away, startled. “I didn’t cry, did I?”

He chuckled and brushed her cheek. “Perhaps we’re both proof that Yahweh still works miracles.” He drew her close again, resting his head atop hers. “I’ll tell you about my visit with Obadiah later, and you can tell me how you’re feeling, but for now we must return to the Temple. I’ll send several priests to your abba’s chamber with spices and cloths to prepare his body for burial. From the reports I heard in the Throne Hall, it’s probably best if you don’t help with preparations.”

She nodded, thankful for his sensitivity. “I’d like to stay and visit Zibiah. Hazi wouldn’t let her come to me, but he didn’t say I couldn’t visit her chamber.” Jehoiada gave her a doubtful look, but she pleaded, “She hasn’t been able to meet with Keilah and me for over two moon cycles. Hazi is even more protective now that she’s pregnant.”

“All right, but I’ll send Zabad when we’re ready to move your abba’s body to Obadiah’s estate.”

Jehoiada insisted on escorting Sheba to Zibiah’s chamber. Zabad also appeared—he must have been waiting somewhere discreetly while they talked. At the top of the grand stairway, they faced Ima Thaliah’s doors, where twice the usual contingent of Carites stood. Sheba hurried to the left, getting as far away from Ima as possible.

They arrived at Zibiah’s double doors at the opposite end of the women’s hall, also doubly guarded on this sad day. Sheba pecked a kiss on her husband’s cheek and offered a smile to Zabad. “Thank you both for taking such good care of me.” The two hurried away, shoulders weighed down with the cares of a nation.
Yahweh, bless them.

She returned her gaze to the Carites at Zibiah’s chamber, raised an eyebrow, and they opened to her. Perhaps no one would trouble a grieving princess today.

“Sheba!” Zibiah dropped her spindle and ran with open arms. Their tummies bumped before they could manage a hug. “I’m sorry about your abba.”

They lingered in the long-overdue embrace, soaking in the strength of a true and abiding friendship. “I’m sorry Hazi isn’t
the man we’d hoped he could be,” Sheba whispered, making sure none of Zibiah’s eunuchs overheard.

Aching backs forced the hug’s end long before their hearts were ready. “Come, sit here on the balcony. There’s a breeze.” Zibiah shoved aside the spindle and knotted yarn she’d been working.

“Oh no! Should we try to untangle it?”

Zibiah waved away the concern. “It’s fine. I’ve got cubits of yarn. It’s all I do these days.” She smiled, the corners of her lips quivering. “So tell me. How’s Keilah? And Gadara? Do you like your new living quarters?”

Thankful not to talk about Abba Jehoram, Sheba spoke of happier things. “Keilah has a cute, round belly twice our size! Of course, I’d never tell her that. She eats like a bird, so it’s not her weight.”

“Do you think she’ll have a big baby? Maybe a big, strapping boy?” Zibiah’s eyes misted immediately. “Hazi has six sons now. Six sons and three daughters.” She began rocking, trying to quell her tears, but finally turned away, burying her face in her hands.

“Zibiah, what is it?”

“I think it would be best for you to go, Sheba. I’m thankful you came, truly, but . . .” She shook her head, unable—or unwilling—to finish.

Sheba studied her friend more closely. Dark circles shadowed wary eyes, and she trembled from head to toe. Two eunuchs lingered on either side of the doorway, failing any attempt at subtle spying. Four more shuffled pillows and dusted trinkets. Why eunuchs, rather than serving maids?

Seeing the chamber with fresh eyes, Sheba noted a tray with only one goblet and a plate of food—both untouched. The meal resembled prison rations rather than princess fare. “How long since Hazi has visited you, Zibiah?”

“Not long, really.” Her shaky smile betrayed the lie.

“Out!” Sheba shouted at the eunuchs, startling poor Zibiah. “All of you, out now!”

The chief eunuch, branded with a god of Tyre, bowed repeatedly as he approached. “But my lady—”

“Would you like me to report your rebellion to Ima Thaliah or King Hazi?”

The eunuch backed away without further protest, herding the others out of the chamber.

Alone now, the two women fell into each other’s arms, and Zibiah’s nightmarish existence unfolded. “I’m a prisoner in this chamber. Athaliah’s eunuchs never leave me alone—
never!
They feed me bread and watered wine. They relay terrible threats from the queen—awful plans if my child is a girl. My balcony is my only source of fresh air, and I don’t remember the last time I saw Hazi.” Hysteria was taking hold, her words erupting in despair.

“Zibiah, Zibiah, shh!” Sheba held her tightly, trying to soothe, for fear the guards would charge in at the sound of her wailing.

When Sheba stood to get the goblet of wine, Zibiah clutched at her robe. “Don’t leave me!”

“I won’t leave. I’m right here.” Sheba returned to the couch and drew Zibiah close, singing a Levite psalm:

Hallelu Yah.

Hallelu Yah, O my soul.

I will praise Yahweh all my life;

I will sing praise to my God as long as I live.

Do not put your trust in princes,

in human beings, who cannot save.

When their spirit departs, they return to the ground;

on that very day their plans come to nothing.

Blessed are those whose help is the God of Jacob,

whose hope is in Yahweh their God.

He is the Maker of heaven and earth,

the sea, and everything in them—

He remains faithful forever.

He upholds the cause of the oppressed

and gives food to the hungry.

Yahweh sets prisoners free . . .

Zibiah began humming the tune with her, peace seeping into their spirits. Repeating those opening lines, they sang together and watched the sun sink over the western ridge.

Sheba helped Zibiah stand and guided her to the bed. Hazi’s wife was exhausted, but she clutched Sheba’s hand. “You’re not leaving, are you?”

“Zibiah, you know I must return to the Temple, but I’m going to talk with Hazi about—”

“Why don’t you talk to Hazi now, Sheba?” Hazi had slipped into the chamber and was closing the door.

Zibiah’s grip tightened on Sheba’s hand, terror in her eyes. “Sheba, don’t.”

“I’m going to ask why your wife is cooped up like a bird in a cage, Brother.” Sheba untangled herself from Zibiah’s clutches, leaving Hazi’s wife cowering on her bed.

Hazi’s smug air crumbled. “Zibiah, my love! By the gods, what’s happened?” Dashing past Sheba, Hazi cradled his wife in a tender embrace, burying his face in her neck. His whispered words were undecipherable, the tender moment too intimate for anyone to observe. Was she telling him of the cruelty she’d suffered, or did he know Ima Thaliah well enough to assume the worst?

One glimpse, and Sheba knew—Hazi had no idea Zibiah had suffered so. Only two people were capable of this brutality—both were queens of destiny.

Fire in her veins propelled her out the door, down the women’s hall, and straight to Ima Thaliah’s chamber. Six Carites stood guard, but only one blocked her entry. “I’m sorry, Princess Jehosheba. The Gevirah of Judah has asked not to be disturbed.”

The Gevirah.
No longer the queen, she officially became mother of the reigning king today. She’d been well trained for the role.

“You
will
disturb her, and I will see her now.”

The Carite paused only a heartbeat before tapping his spearhead on the door and disappearing behind it. Moments later, the door opened from within. No invitation. No welcome. It was enough.

Steadying her breathing, Sheba straightened her spine and rolled back her shoulders. She hadn’t seen Ima Thaliah since she’d humiliated and crushed Hazi over a year ago. If Sheba was
to match wits with Ima, she’d need to employ every strategy of the queens of destiny—beginning now. She lifted a condescending brow, waiting for a guard to announce her presence.

Two guards fumbled their spears in a hurried bow, and finally, the highest-ranking officer opened the door wide. “Princess Sheba to see Gevirah Athaliah.” He bowed, let Sheba pass, and closed the doors behind her.

Sheba’s knees shook beneath her simple blue robe. Ima would undoubtedly be offended.
I should have worn my
festival robe.
But would it have mattered? Ima Thaliah always found something to criticize. In every written message, she included some reproach that Jehoiada encouraged his wife to ignore.

“Sheba?”

The chamber was dark except for a few lamps in the wall niches. The Gevirah’s couch was empty.
She must be in her bedchamber.
Walking toward the dividing curtain, Sheba had a harrowing thought. What if Ima had been sleeping? But it was too early for bed . . .

“I’m in here. What are you doing?” The impatience in Thaliah’s voice was too fresh for recent slumber.

Suddenly rethinking her rash visit, Sheba felt the familiar panic begin to rise. What had she hoped to accomplish by subjecting herself to another round of Ima’s face-to-face abuse?

Silently, Sheba maintained her steady pace, making the new Gevirah wait. When she arrived at the curtain, she yanked it back decisively, causing Ima to jump like a desert hare.

“Sheba! By the gods, girl. I forbid you to skulk like a bandit.” Speechless, Sheba stared into the haunted, sunken eyes of a woman who looked ten years older than she remembered. Squirming under the scrutiny, Thaliah looked out her balcony. “So, Jehoiada plans to entomb Jehoram in the lower city?”

“Yes, no thanks to you and Hazi.”

Her head snapped back, a wicked smile creasing her lips. “Has our queen of destiny found her spine?”

Sheba raised a single eyebrow, remaining silent. Neither of them flinched, but Sheba was determined that Ima blink first. She did. Sheba grinned and spotted a stool not far from the bed.
She placed it at her ima’s right hand. “I haven’t come to discuss Abba Jehoram. I’m here about Hazi.”

“Ah, I assume it’s really about your poor, sweet Zibiah.”

Sheba dropped her genial tone. “You
assume
nothing. You know I’ve just come from her chamber. I’m sure the Carite told you when he announced me, and you’ve probably heard that I ordered your eunuchs out of Zibiah’s chamber earlier this evening.”

Delighted laughter preceded the Gevirah’s applause. “Excellent, my dear. I feared my training had been wasted, but you do have a sharp mind, don’t you?” Ima Thaliah’s smile dimmed, and her facade fell away. Cold, black eyes nearly stole Sheba’s courage.

Yahweh, please help me.
The psalm she and Zibiah sang replayed in her mind, and the words soothed her as she listened to Ima Thaliah’s plans.

“Hazi can’t be distracted by Zibiah’s Yahweh fascination. I’ve lost you to Jehoiada and his Temple—you never visit me. By the gods, I’m not going to lose Hazi to Zibiah.” The tremor in her voice revealed uncharacteristic emotion.

“I didn’t know you wanted me to visit you, Ima.” Sheba’s softly spoken words splashed like cold water in her ima’s face.

Awkward and silent, Thaliah turned her head, examining everything in her chamber but Sheba’s face. “I’m not Leviathan, you know.”

Realizing Athaliah’s emotional plea could be just a convincing ploy, Sheba answered with her only certainty. “My childhood is filled with wonderful memories, Ima.”

Sheba watched the Gevirah’s eyes grow distant, the door of her emotions slam shut. “I received word yesterday from Jizebaal that Elisha is using the wealth he’s compiled from favorable Aramean prophecies to mount an army of Israelite prophets.”

Sheba shook her head, knowing even as she heard the report that it was false. “We’ve heard nothing from the northern prophet for months. Elisha’s wealth came before Hazael usurped the throne, and he used it to build the prophets’ schools, not an army.”

“Jizebaal says the three schools are where the army trains.”

Sheba laughed. “Jizebaal knew a year ago that the schools had formed in Jericho, Bethel, and Gilgal, but I’m telling you—they’re not forming an army. Elisha would have sent word if that were the case, because such a move would affect Yahweh worshipers in Judah.”

“You seem quite knowledgeable, my girl.” Respect shone from her eyes. “Did you know that General Jehu now sides with Gevirah Jizebaal, urging King Ram to seize the border town of Ramoth Gilead before Aram marches across Israel?”

“No, Ima. I only know the political news from Israel that you share in your scrolls.”

“My ima Jizebaal has summoned Hazi and his loyal Carites to Ramoth Gilead to join Israel’s troops in fighting the Arameans. Ramoth Gilead!” she screamed. “The place where my abba Ahab died!”

Sheba sat stone silent, back straight, gaze unflinching, the psalm of the Levites resounding in her mind.

Athaliah straightened her already perfect blanket. “You came in here to chastise
me
about pretty little pregnant Zibiah, but I’m worried about the lives of my brother, my son, and two nations.” She leaned forward, daring Sheba to speak. “What was it you wanted to say?”