In the Shadow of Jezebel (33 page)

“Aren’t you listening?” Nathanael snapped.

“No!” Jehoiada slammed his hand on the table, startling his wife and second priest. “How can I listen when everywhere I turn there are people and commotion and clutter?”

“Jehoiada, keep your voice down.” Though Sheba hadn’t felt that inner trembling in a long while, she still hated his anger. Standing behind him, she laid her hands on his shoulders and steadied her voice. “What can we do about this? Do you have a solution, my love?”
Yahweh, speak
peace to Your servant Jehoiada. Give him wisdom . . .
Almost immediately, she felt his shoulders ease, his breathing slow.

“I’m sorry for losing my temper, Nathanael. Please find Zabad and bring him back here with you. I actually
do
have a solution in mind.”

Nathanael glanced at Sheba, puzzled, but rose from his cushion and bowed before closing the door behind him. Jehoiada was on his feet before the door clicked shut. “Is Keilah strong enough to answer the Levirate question? Have you asked her yet?”

Sheba covered a giggle. “This is your solution to our cramped living space?”

He grabbed her waist and pulled her close. “It’s part of my solution.”

“Yes, she’s strong enough, but I believe you should ask her about her kinsman. Nathanael looks up to you as an abba, and I think you should secure his future with the woman he loves.”

Jehoiada’s throat tightened at the thought.
Nathanael looks up to
you as an abba.
He certainly couldn’t be prouder of a blood-born son. He kissed his wife soundly, missing her more every night spent apart. Begrudgingly, he released her, and she followed him into their bedchamber, where Keilah still lay sleeping.

“Should I wake her?” he asked.

Sheba stifled a grin. “I don’t think she’ll mind for this.”

Jehoiada grinned and knelt beside the wool-stuffed mattress. Touching Keilah’s shoulder, he shook her lightly. “Keilah, I must ask you a question.”

Lovely brown eyes fluttered open. Looking concerned at first and then utterly confused, she glanced at Sheba and back to Jehoiada. The long illness had stripped her strength, but she lifted herself on one elbow. “Ask it. Anything.”

“Did your husband have a brother, a kinsman to redeem you?”

Leave it to a man
to blurt it out.
Sheba wanted to giggle, but she was too anxious to hear the answer.

As the implication of his question unfolded, Keilah’s cheeks pinked. “You mean a Levirate claim? No. My husband and I had no siblings, and our parents died years ago.” Her eyes filled. “Dare I ask why you want to know?”

Jehoiada shot to his feet, startling them both. “It’s part of a solution to our cramped quarters.” Before either woman could ask more, he turned and fled like his feet were on fire.

Sheba exchanged a puzzled glance with her friend and chased her husband out of their chamber and into Nathanael’s rooms next door. “Jehoiada? What do you mean,
part
of your plan?”

2 C
HRONICLES
24:26

Zabad, son of Shimeath an Ammonite woman, and Jehozabad, son of Shimrith a Moabite woman.

J
ehoiada captured his wife’s small waist, stealing this rare moment alone in Nathanael’s chamber. “We can’t tell Nathanael that Keilah’s free to marry until after I disclose the rest of my plan.”

She wriggled out of his grasp, seeming distracted. “That’s hardly fair. He’s waited so long, and I think he deserves to know right away.” Jehosheba spotted the dirty dishes he and Nathanael had left in the washbasin this morning, drawn to them like a moth to flame.

She reached for a cloth to wash them, and Jehoiada’s eyes lingered on her form. “Nathanael has been distracted enough recently. I need his full concentration to get the benefit of his detailed mind.” Jehosheba continued her busyness, puffing tendrils of dark hair off her forehead as she wiped the small table, her gracefulness captivating. How long had it been since he’d loved his wife thoroughly—without her heart and mind consumed with worry for others? In two steps, he captured her again, drawing her close. She giggled, thrilling him. Had she any idea how much he loved her? He lowered his lips to hers—

“What should we do for Nathanael and Keilah’s wedding?” she asked just before their lips met.

He dropped his head on her shoulder, defeated.

“What’s wrong?”

Annoyed, he released her, turning away before she saw the crimson flame creeping into his neck and cheeks. “I have other things on my mind right now. I don’t want to talk about a wedding.”

Silence.

“You think Keilah shouldn’t have a wedding since she’s been married before, don’t you?”

The accusation stung, and he whirled on her, instantly defensive. “It has nothing to do with Keilah’s previous marriage. Maybe it’s because you found her lying in a brothel. Did you consider how
that
reputation would affect the second priest of Yahweh?”

“Surely Keilah’s blameless poverty is more acceptable than a Baal priestess. The high priest of Yahweh sleeps with an idolater every night. What has that done to
your
reputation?” Her eyes blazed, and she began trembling head to toe.

He released a weary sigh. How had an innocent kiss spiraled into a verbal battle? “Jehosheba,” he said gently, offering his hand. She recoiled. Was that fear again on her face? “Jehosheba!” His command sent her fleeing—headlong into Nathanael and Zabad, who were ambling in.

As Sheba shoved past them, all three men jumped at the sound of a slamming door in the next chamber. Nathanael was the first to venture a word. “Would you like us to come back later?”

Jehoiada wiped his face slowly. Stared at the ceiling. Counted to ten. “No. I’m learning to give Yahweh time to work with her alone before I try again. Please, sit down.” He directed them to the small table. They seemed especially cooperative at the moment—which was good. “This may sound odd, but extend your arms straight out, from north wall to south wall.” Puzzled, both men did as they were asked, and Jehoiada measured the empty space between Zabad’s fingertips and the north wall. “Less than a cubit on either side.”

Nathanael fidgeted, a smile lurking. “I think we all agree that our chambers are small. If Zabad or I were to marry, we’d need more space.” Hope tinged his tone.

“I’m not getting married.” The horror in Zabad’s voice lightened the mood, and Jehoiada clapped his shoulder, offering a little brotherly encouragement.

“I thought I noticed a longing look pass between you and the midwife Gadara. Are you sure—”

Nathanael burst out laughing, and Zabad nearly drew his sword on the high priest. “That’s not funny!”

Jehoiada chuckled, calming both men with upraised palms. “I’m simply saying we need more living space.” And he stopped there, offering no explanation or reason.

Their silent waiting grew awkward. Zabad finally leaned forward, studying the high priest like a map. “The chambers have always been this size. Why change now? You hate change.”

Nathanael grinned. “Is someone
else
getting married?”

Jehoiada ignored him. “Zabad, we need to renovate the chambers in the northern wall of the outer court. All five chambers on the west side of the Sur Gate will become my home, connected by adjoining doors with a single public entrance. The same configuration on the east side of the wall will be designated for the second priest.” Jehoiada held Zabad’s gaze, feeling Nathanael’s heated stare. The second priest didn’t like being ignored.

“Those chambers haven’t been used in years—not since our workforce was depleted after King Jehoshaphat’s death. We’ve moved all the on-site priests to inner-court chambers because none of the priests have families with children.” His eyes nearly popped from his head. “Is there something you and Sheba aren’t telling—”

Jehoiada’s heart tore in two. “No, Zabad. No.”

His gatekeeper’s neck instantly grew crimson. “I’m sorry, Jehoiada. Truly. Please forgive—”

“I want a tunnel dug under those chambers, Zabad. One like the secret tunnel that already exists—under the Ark.”

“Under the Ark!”

Zabad’s enthusiasm coaxed a grin from Nathanael, and he
finally rejoined the conversation. “I think it’s time you told our chief gatekeeper about Obadiah’s secret quarry and your plan for escape if Athaliah attacks the Temple.”

Jehoiada reviewed the history of the quarry from the night he discovered it with King Jehoram to the moment he found the tunnel entrance in the Most Holy Place. Then he asked his Kohathite gatekeeper, “You would have been a mere boy when King Jehoshaphat built the expansion of the outer court, but do you remember the name of the Kohathite engineer who supervised the project?”

Zabad’s grin foreshadowed Yahweh’s hand at work. “His name was Jonadab, and his son, Jehozabad, is my best friend. Our imas were foreign women—Jehozabad’s ima Moabite and mine Ammonite—making us outcasts among the children in our clan. We grew up having to prove ourselves, and Jehozabad helped his abba lay every piece of limestone in the Temple’s outer court.”

Jehoiada clapped his hand on Zabad’s shoulder. “If he’s half as good a man as you are, he’ll be twice the man of most.”

Nathanael had grown quiet, distracted again, as Jehoiada laid the groundwork for his news. “It’s important that the tunnel is directly under those new chambers by the Sur Gate. I fear we’ll have little warning if Athaliah attacks the Temple compound.” Nathanael nodded absently, fidgeting with the thread on his sleeve.

Zabad’s brow furrowed. A reasonable man with logical concerns, he asked, “Since you’re the only one who’s married, why not build the tunnel under our current chambers?”

“Two reasons,” Jehoiada said, leaning back, resting his hands behind his head. “Digging the tunnel near the outer Temple wall will place our escape route closer to the
city
wall and quicken our flight from Jerusalem if the Temple falls under attack.” He glanced at Nathanael. Still no response. “Secondly, someone else at this table will likely be married by then. In fact, that someone should run now to my bedchamber and ask his waiting bride.”

“Keilah is—I mean, she’s not—” Nathanael half knelt, half stood, paralyzed, it seemed.

“Go!” Jehoiada said, and Zabad laughed at their friend’s hurried retreat.

The door of the neighboring chamber slammed amid squeals, and both Zabad and Jehoiada laughed at the happy sounds.

“So, when will this wedding take place?” Zabad asked.

Jehoiada’s heart twisted as he remembered the hurt to be healed with his wife. “I’m not sure. That’s part of a discussion I need to have with Jehosheba. Why don’t you go plan a tunnel, and I’ll plan a wedding.”

Zabad stood to leave and nearly plowed into Jehosheba, who stood in the doorway. He apologized on his way out, and she closed the door behind him.

Alone again. The sight of her stole Jehoiada’s breath. She’d changed into a simple blue robe with a gold-braided belt cinched at her waist, her face freshly washed and her hair neatly tucked under her headpiece. Had she tucked away her emotions too—as she so often did when she felt threatened?
Yahweh, make me
a mirror of Your love—giving, serving, honoring my wife,
offering her peace and safety unconditionally.

“Did I hear Zabad mention the tunnel?” Her voice was small, her hands fidgeting.

“May I explain the tunnel after I apologize for my outburst?”

“It was my fault. I was defensive about Keilah’s past and didn’t give you a chance to explain.”

He offered his hand but didn’t move toward her. The fear he’d seen earlier was more than he could bear.

Timid but obedient, she took four steps toward him, accepting his grasp but maintaining her distance. No more trembling and no tears. Was it progress or hidden emotions?

Jehoiada rubbed his thumb across her hand. “It was my fault too. I had hoped for a few intimate moments alone—without words.”

She looked up then, startled. “Oh, Jehoiada, I didn’t realize you wanted . . .”

“I know.” He brushed her cheek. “I miss my wife, but my frustration poured out on the object of my desire.” Her features softened, and he pushed off her headpiece, revealing the silky,
ebony tresses he adored. “I don’t sleep with an idolater or a priestess, Jehosheba. You’re Yahweh’s beloved and my most precious treasure. I will remind you of that every day we’re together, but you must also believe it. Let it soak into your wounded soul.”

She buried her face in his chest, shaking her head. “Why? Why did Yahweh save me from Baal? Will I ever feel worthy of Him, of you?”

“We can never be worthy of Yahweh, my love, nor can we fully know His mind or the answers to our whys.” He gathered handfuls of her hair, drinking in her liquid-brown eyes. “But by our covenant of marriage, an oath taken in His presence, we are worthy of each other. Don’t you think I wonder how a beautiful young princess could love an old goat like me?”

He smiled, trying to soften the truth of his own insecurities, but she captured his face in her hands. “No, don’t tease me. You’re the best man I’ve ever known, and I love you more than life.” She kissed him then, fully, passionately, as they’d known before the days of commotion and crowds and confusion in their chamber. “I’m sure Nathanael will talk to Keilah for a while,” she whispered, nodding toward the bedchamber only steps away.

“Don’t you want to plan Keilah’s wedding?”

“Yes,” she said, sending his heart to his toes. Then she brushed his cheek with a kiss and whispered, “Later.”

The glowing brazier crackled and popped, sending the scent of grapevine ash into the air, while the three women sat in Sheba’s chamber, enjoying their spinning. A light snow had crowned Jerusalem with added splendor, the rare occurrence a lively topic for three friends who had wrung out every drop of chatter about Keilah’s wedding day four Sabbaths past.

“I think I was fourteen the last time it snowed in Jerusalem.” Sheba whirled her spindle, drafting the wool mindlessly now. All three of them had spun almost enough yarn to weave their first cloth. “I remember trying to catch some of the flakes outside my palace window, and one of the palace guards rushed
in with Ima Thaliah screaming, ‘Get away from there! You’ll fall and kill yourself!’”

Zibiah and Keilah laughed, but the memory rubbed at a raw place in her heart. “Ima Thaliah locked me in a storage closet for three days after that.” The laughter died, and Sheba stared into her friends’ shocked faces. In truth, she was equally surprised she’d confided anything about her childhood.

Zibiah’s pallor matched the limestone walls. “I had no idea, Sheba. I’m sorry.”

Keilah, too, appeared ready to lose her morning meal, and Sheba regretted her transparency. “Why dwell on the past? It’s not important. I’m sure I’m a stronger person because of Ima’s discipline.” She noted the unconvinced glance between her friends and felt her stomach roll. “I think I need some mint tea.” The spinning could wait.

Before she’d placed the water over the fire, both Zibiah and Keilah had set aside their work as well. “Maybe some mint tea would settle my stomach,” Keilah mentioned as she placed her half-full spindle in her shoulder bag.

“Oh no.” Zibiah pressed her hand against her forehead. “Are we getting sick? My stomach is upset too.” She dropped her hand to her side like a pouting child. “This is my week with Hazi. I
can’t
be sick.”

“Well, Jehoiada said some of the priests from the southern clans have sent word of a stomach—”

“Ladies!” Keilah shouted, her mouth agape. “Is your red moon late in coming?”

Sheba watched Zibiah do a quick and silent count and then turn to Keilah with joy. The two grabbed each other, giggling and hugging, adding up the weeks since Keilah’s wedding and the last time Hazi visited Zibiah’s chamber. It seemed to fit. Keilah and Zibiah were with child.

Sheba couldn’t breathe. “I have to get some air.” She ran out the door into the cold, forgetting her wrap. How could she be pregnant? Jehoiada couldn’t have children. He and Anna had tried for years. Sheba didn’t even pay attention to the dates of her bleeding because they didn’t matter.