Gods And Kings (4 page)

“Yes. Yes, he is.”

Zechariah remembered his funeral, his dishonorable burial outside the tomb of the kings. “His son Jotham is dead, too, and now his grandson, Ahaz, is king. He’s married to my daughter. Did you know that?”

Hilkiah nodded. “Yes, you have told me that many times before.Well, good night, my friend. I must go home now.”

Zechariah clutched Hilkiah’s arm to stop him. “Your children, Hilkiah! Where are your children?”

“My son Eliakim is at home,” he replied, gently freeing himself from Zechariah’s grip. “He’s probably sound asleep already.”

Zechariah had to make his friend understand, to stop him from making the same mistakes he had made. “You must diligently teach God’s laws to your son—and to his children after him,” he pleaded. “The Torah commands it. I failed to teach King Uzziah, and now … now King Ahaz is worse than all of the others. He has heathen altars on every street corner. He even sacrificed his son—” But that memory was too painful for Zechariah to bear, even through a numbing haze of wine. He covered his face with his hands. “It’s all my fault!”

“God of Abraham, what can I do?” Hilkiah whispered.

“I have the answer for King Uzziah now! I know what to tell him!” Zechariah said. “I would tell him that Yahweh commanded us not to worship Him the way other nations worship their gods because they do all kinds of detestable things that the Lord hates. They even burn their sons and daughters in the fire as sacrifices to their gods!”

“You need to rest—” Hilkiah began, but Zechariah cut him off.

“I followed the procession to the Valley of Hinnom today.”

“No, Zechariah … you would never take part in—” “But I did! I went there!” He saw his friend’s horror, but he forced himself to face Hilkiah and confess his sins. “I watched them sacrifice my grandson Eliab to a heathen god, and I remembered what else is written in the Torah: ‘For I, the Lord your God, am a jealous God, punishing the children for the sin of the fathers to the third and fourth generation.’ Eliab died because of me, Hilkiah. Because I sinned!”

Zechariah lowered his head to his knees, hiding his face in shame. “Punish
me,
Lord!” he begged. “Not my children. Let me die for my own sins. Let me die!”

He felt Hilkiah’s hand on his shoulder. “Ah, my friend, how can I ever comfort you?” he murmured. “God of Abraham … how can he ever find peace under such a burden of guilt?”

2

T
HE NIGHTMARE JOLTED
H
EZEKIAH
awake. He had dreamed of Molech again, the image so vivid that he’d felt the heat of the flames. He lay awake in the darkness, breathing hard, his heart pounding until his chest hurt. He listened for soldiers and distant drums, but the palace hallways were quiet.

It was just a bad dream, he told himself. But when he gazed at Eliab’s bed, he knew that Molech was real. He hadn’t been dreaming on that terrible morning when they’d taken Eliab and thrown him into the fire. What if the soldiers came back for him?

It seemed to Hezekiah like a long time had passed since Eliab had died. Uncle Maaseiah and his soldiers had all marched away into battle, but what would happen when they returned? Hezekiah wondered if they would throw
him
into the monster’s mouth the way they’d thrown Eliab. He remembered how the soldiers had picked him up as if he’d weighed nothing at all. He remembered their swords and spears… . A shudder passed through his body that jolted him upright. He was helpless. The servants who slept nearby wouldn’t save him. They hadn’t saved Eliab. Only Mama had tried to stop the soldiers. She would protect him.

Hezekiah climbed out of bed and ran down the darkened corridors to his mother’s suite in the harem. Ever since Eliab died, she had allowed him to come and stay with her whenever he had a bad dream.And the nightmares had come nearly every night.

Her door was unlatched. Hezekiah pushed it open and ran to her.“Mama! Mama, I’m scared!” he cried. She sat all alone on the cushioned window seat, gazing into the night sky, but she turned at the sound of his voice and reached to gather him into her arms.

“Come here, my little one. Hush now, don’t cry.” Mama was warm and soft and very beautiful. Her dark hair flowed down her back in thick waves and smelled like flowers and myrrh. Hezekiah felt safe here. She would keep the soldiers away. She would stop the nightmares from coming. In the comfort of her arms, with his cheek resting against her shoulder, Hezekiah closed his eyes and fell asleep.

The sound of voices startled him awake. He cried out in fright, terrified that the soldiers had returned, but only his father stood alone in the doorway. He seemed huge to Hezekiah, his face scary in the flickering lamplight. Mama tightened her grip until Hezekiah could scarcely breathe. Her heart was beating as rapidly as his was.

“What is that boy doing in here?” Ahaz asked. He was wheezing from his climb up the stairs to the harem, and his forehead glistened with sweat.

“Good evening, my lord,” Mama said, her voice almost a whisper.“I-I didn’t think you would come tonight. Your son had a bad dream.He came to be comforted, that’s all.”

“Well, send him back to his room.” Ahaz seemed so frightening that Hezekiah wished he could melt into his mother’s arms. Instead, she slowly released him, lowering his feet to the floor as she stood.Then she tugged on his hand, urging him to bow down to Ahaz, as she was doing.

“Your father is our king,” she told him. “We must bow to show respect to His Majesty.” Hezekiah did as he was told. When he glanced up, his father looked pleased.

“Your son Hezekiah is much like you, my lord,” Mama said, resting her hands on Hezekiah’s shoulders. “He will make a fine choice to be your heir and successor one day.”

Ahaz crossed the room until he stood in front of them. Hezekiah’s heart raced so wildly as his father studied him that he was afraid it would burst. He wanted to run and hide.

“But you aren’t my firstborn,” Ahaz said. “I gave my firstborn as a gift to Molech.”

Hezekiah began to tremble as the awful truth sank in. It wasn’t the soldiers he needed to fear—it was his father. He was the one who had ordered the soldiers to throw Eliab into the flames. And Ahaz had the power to kill him the same way.

At last Ahaz looked away. He loosened the belt of his tunic as he turned to Hezekiah’s mother. “Didn’t you hear me, Abijah? I said send the boy away.”

“Of course, my lord.” She smiled, but Hezekiah knew it wasn’t her real smile. She looked so different that a chill shivered through him. Mama was afraid of King Ahaz, too—almost as afraid as he was.

Hezekiah wriggled free and ran past his father, not stopping until he reached his own room. He slammed the door and leaned against it, as if to barricade himself inside. He felt sick with fear. His father had killed Eliab. The king was the most powerful person there was. Who could possibly protect Hezekiah from the king?

He was wide awake now, every muscle and nerve ending tingling. Where could he hide? His mother’s room was no longer safe. He was afraid to stay here, but terrified to leave. He stood frozen in place, wondering what to do.

Gradually his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness and his breathing slowed to normal. The corridors outside his room were quiet and still. As the familiar contours of his room began to take shape, the shadows seemed less menacing. He could distinguish the bronze lampstands against the wall, the ivory table beneath the win-dow, the charcoal brazier glowing faintly, his rumpled, empty bed.And Eliab’s.

Tears filled his eyes and ran down his face as he remembered his brother. They had clothed Eliab in a tunic of white linen and forced him to walk in the procession to the Valley of Hinnom, sleepy and bewildered. Their father, dressed in royal robes, had led that procession. He had offered his firstborn to Molech. But what Hezekiah didn’t understand was why. Why had his father killed Eliab?

Abijah moved forward into Ahaz’s arms, desperate to hide her emotions from him. He seemed proud of what he had done, calling Eliab a gift to Molech. But Abijah remembered the holy laws her father had once taught, and those laws said that firstborn sons belonged to Yahweh. Their lives were to be redeemed with silver, not offered to idols. Yahweh wanted His children to serve Him with their lives, not their deaths. But Abijah didn’t dare speak such thoughts out loud.

She leaned against her husband, forcing herself not to cry or yield to the grief that still consumed her. For Hezekiah’s sake, she had to push aside her own revulsion as Ahaz’s hands touched her. She must smile in spite of her pain.

“Do I please you, my lord?” she murmured as she returned his caresses.

“This is a good beginning,” he said, bending to kiss her. She pretended to return his kisses, to act as if she enjoyed them. Then Ahaz stopped suddenly. “Why do you ask?” he said.

Her heart began to pound. She was afraid that she had overacted and made him suspicious. “B-because I want so much to please you.”She hoped he wouldn’t see through her clumsy reply, and quickly added, “I know you have several concubines, but I’m your only wife.Perhaps … perhaps I’m a little jealous of them?”

Ahaz grinned, and she hated him more fiercely than she ever thought possible. She buried her face against his chest again to hide her loathing. “I want to be the one you come to each night,” she said. “King David had a favored wife. I want to be yours.”

“Shall I call you Bathsheba, then?” he asked as he kissed her neck.She pretended to laugh. “If you’d like to, my lord.”

Abijah knew that David had chosen Bathsheba’s son to be his heir, even though Solomon wasn’t his firstborn. If she could win Ahaz’s favor above all the other women in his harem—if she was the one he came to for comfort and solace—she could ask him to designate Hezekiah as his heir someday. She loved her son enough to do that for him, to save him from Molech, even though she would have to sacrifice her own pride and dignity in order to do it.

This first night would be the most difficult, she told herself, coming so soon after Eliab’s death. Maybe in time she would learn how to close off her mind and pretend she was somewhere else whenever Ahaz came to her. Maybe in time she would no longer be repulsed by him every time she held him. Abijah drew a deep breath and played her part, determined to do everything in her power to please Ahaz—for her son’s sake.

But when someone interrupted them, pounding insistently on the door, Abijah felt immensely relieved.

“Who is it?” Ahaz shouted.

“Your Majesty, please forgive me for disturbing you,” one of the chamberlains said from behind the closed door, “but a messenger just arrived with news of your army.”

Abijah felt Ahaz grow tense. She looked up at him and saw his undisguised fear. She thought of Eliab and felt no pity for him.

“Just a minute,” Ahaz called as he composed himself.

Abijah followed him as he crossed the room and opened the door. The chamberlain who waited outside looked very worried. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I never would have interrupted you if it hadn’t been so urgent.”

“What’s the news?”

“It … it’s not good, I’m afraid. And there are two other reports that I think you should see.”

Ahaz turned to Abijah, and she saw how unsure of himself he was.He wanted to escape into her arms, not handle this crisis. She knew then that her plan to win his confidence would work. She could take advantage of his weakness and use her charms to influence him. If she could just push aside her revulsion and pretend that she loved him, she could find out what this crisis was about and what his plans were.Because if he was going to offer another sacrifice to Molech, she needed to hide Hezekiah from him.

She reached up to caress her husband’s neck. “If you would like, my lord, I will gladly come and wait in your chambers until the meeting ends.”

His eyebrows lifted in surprise. His face wore a vulnerable expression that she’d never seen before, as if her offer had touched him.Ahaz had always come to her rooms. She had never offered to go to his before.

“I would like that very much,” he said.

He smoothed his thin, pale hair into place and wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead. Then he turned to his chamberlain. “Why does disaster always strike in the middle of the night?” he asked as they left together.

“I don’t know, Your Majesty.”

Abijah closed the door behind them and their voices faded as they hurried away. She felt filthy for playacting with him, for allowing her son’s murderer to caress her, and she fought the urge to take a bath.This was just the first of many nights she would be forced to spend with him, and she wondered if she would ever get used to being with a man she despised. She sat down on the curtained bed for a moment and allowed the tears she had been holding back to flow.

When they were finally spent, she dried her eyes and steeled herself to go downstairs. She would wait for Ahaz in his bedchamber.