In the Shadow of Jezebel (37 page)

What had come over him?
Neither
of us is willing to trust Yahweh with our child.
The words dug into her heart like a plow into fresh soil. When had he realized their error? But he was right. If they couldn’t trust Yahweh with their child’s life
before the child was born, how could they trust Him for protection after?

“Gadara resigned her responsibilities at the brothel today and moved in with Nathanael and Keilah so she could be close when either of us begins our travail. And then she can help us with the babies after they’re born.”

Jehoiada’s expression darkened, but he recovered quickly with a grin. “I’ll pray for Nathanael’s patience.”

She nudged his shoulder, chuckling at the ongoing feud between her husband and the sassy midwife. “Will you go to Nathanael’s chamber and ask them all to come over here?”

Confused, he drew together his wiry gray brows.

“If I’m going to have a baby in the quarry,
you
must explain the reason to our friends.”

The surprise on Jehoiada’s face was worth the concession. He cradled her hand, turned it over, and kissed her palm, never taking his eyes off her. “Are you sure? Yahweh can keep you safe here or there. We can trust Him.”

“We will trust Him in the quarry,” she said, covering his lips with a gentle kiss.

L
EVITICUS
12:1–4

The L
ORD
said to Moses, “. . . A woman who . . . gives birth to a son will be ceremonially unclean for seven days. . . . On the eighth day the boy is to be circumcised. Then the woman must wait thirty-three days to be purified from her bleeding. She must not touch anything sacred or go to the sanctuary until the days of her purification are over.”

J
ehosheba and Keilah supported Zibiah’s back and shoulders as she sat on the birthing bricks. “Push, my lady!” the midwife shouted between Zibiah’s knees. “I see her head!”

“I. Refuse. To. Have. A. Girl.” Zibiah gritted her teeth.

“Keep pushing! Push harder!” the midwife commanded.

But Zibiah fell back into her friends’ arms, soaked in perspiration, pale as goat’s milk. “I can’t. I’ve got to rest, Keilah. Tell her. Just for a moment.”

Sheba watched with wide eyes, utterly silent. She’d never witnessed a birth and certainly wasn’t qualified to arbitrate the decisions between Keilah and the midwife. Every part of her ached. If Keilah’s baby or hers came within the next day or two, neither would have the strength to deliver after helping Zibiah with her two-day ordeal.

Keilah stroked their friend’s forehead. “Your body will tell you when to push, Zibiah. You’ll know—”

“I’m telling her to push!” the midwife groused. The old woman had started delivering palace babies before any of them were born—she’d told them so repeatedly.

“Let’s give her a few moments.” Sheba intervened—making another decision she felt unqualified to make.

Zibiah gripped her friends’ hands, making the next decision without consultation. “I’ve got to puuuush!”

Together, Keilah and Sheba pressed her back and shoulders forward as Zibiah pushed with all her strength. A soft
whoosh
, and then a whimper-turned-squall announced a healthy baby. The three friends whimpered and giggled, shedding tears and sharing kisses.

“Another boy,” the midwife mumbled, working salt and watered wine into the natural emollient that covered his body. “Queen Athaliah won’t like this, not one bit.” She washed the little one with warm water and then rubbed him with olive oil before wrapping him firmly from waist to neck with strips of swaddling cloth.

Sheba watched in awe, each detail a fascinating new discovery. “Why didn’t you wrap the rest of him?”

As if on cue, Sheba’s new nephew sprayed the midwife, who grabbed a small clay pot readied for the occasion. All four women burst into laughter, draining the tension between them as the baby gave his offering.

“You did a fine job helping your sister and friend.” The midwife nodded a curt bow and stood, the compliment resounding like trumpets from the tough old bird. She halted at the door, her expression almost regretful. “I’ll give you a moment alone before I send the king to take his son.” And she was gone.

Panic stole Zibiah’s smile and washed her cheeks white again. “What did she mean, ‘take his son’? I thought if I had a boy, I kept him. Athaliah takes only the girls to her nurses and leaves the boys with their imas.”

“Shh.” Both women tried to calm her. “Hazi won’t take him, Zibiah.” Sheba tried to sound confident, but the midwife’s announcement surprised her too. “I’ll talk with him.”

“He listens to you, Sheba. You have to convince him.” Tears streamed down her face, and the baby’s minimal protests became wails.

“Zibiah, my friend, you must calm down.” Keilah took the crying babe, stood, and began bouncing with him, her own unborn child proving a handy shelf to support the bundle. “Yahweh makes these little ones sensitive to their ima’s turmoil. He won’t nurse while you’re this upset.”

Zibiah turned pleading eyes on Sheba.

What was she supposed to do?
She
was usually the one with runaway emotions. A quick assessment of Zibiah’s discomfort made the first decision easy. “Come. We’re taking you back to your chamber.”

Keilah instructed them on wrapping Zibiah’s abdomen tightly, creating a sort of sling that the two friends used to support the new ima as she walked to her chamber two doors down.

If Hazi finds the
birthing chamber empty, perhaps his panic will soften his heart
for my request.
Sheba took charge of Zibiah’s eunuchs, keeping each one too busy to slip a message to Hazi or Athaliah. “You there, clean sheets on the bed. And you, a cup of wild carrot-seed tea for Lady Zibiah.” The others scrubbed and tinkered with projects she invented.

When Zibiah was tucked safely into bed, Sheba handed her the cup of tea. “Drink it all.”

After one sip—“Ew! That’s awful!”

Sheba laughed. “You have to drink it.” Keilah nodded.

“Why? I’ve never even heard of it.”

“It helps control your bleeding.” Sheba hoped her friends wouldn’t ask how she knew. The training from Baal’s temple seemed to be of good use at odd times. Mattan forced all the priestesses to drink the tea on the morning after the Awakening Festival. The high priestess then took the girls who began with abdominal cramping to another temple. A shiver worked its way through her, and she was thankful she’d never been subjected to the festival, amazed once more at Yahweh’s protection.

Sheba found a nice fluffy pillow and pulled it closer to the
bed to rest. Keilah did the same and sat down with the baby in her lap—and began chewing her bottom lip.

Zibiah spotted it too. “All right, Keilah. What do you want to say—but you’re afraid to say it?”

Releasing a long sigh, their quiet friend kept her eyes on the baby while she spoke. “Babies are born knowing how to suck, but some need help learning to latch onto their ima’s breast. When my son was born, I was too weak to nurse him right away, so one of the experienced imas nursed him while I ate a meal and gathered my strength. Since your little one is still so fussy, would you mind if . . .” She looked up at Zibiah, almost apologetic.

“Oh, Keilah.” Relief swept over Zibiah’s face. “I think it’s a wonderful idea. I was the youngest in my family, so I’ve never really cared for a baby. I have no idea . . .”

Keilah seemed relieved as well and began loosening her belt.

“Wait!” Sheba shouted. “You haven’t had your baby yet. Do you have milk to nurse him?”

Keilah smiled. “Sheba, all three of us have the newborn cream of an ima’s first milk. The regular milk comes later.”

Gasping, Sheba said, “So I could nurse him too?”

“Hey!” Zibiah protested. “I’m next!”

The three giggled, and Sheba and Zibiah learned of Yahweh’s miraculous plan of nourishing a babe.

“Does it hurt?” Sheba asked.

“A little, at first.” Keilah stroked the baby’s oily hair as he nursed, and Sheba noticed a tear fall. She placed a comforting hand on Keilah’s arm. Sometimes she forgot that Keilah had had another life before Nathanael. They seemed so in love and excited about their new arrival, but watching Keilah now and witnessing the travail of Zibiah’s birth, Sheba understood in a profound new way—the wounds of losing a child would never completely heal.

A soft rumble rose from the wool-stuffed mattress beside them. Zibiah had finally settled enough to sleep. Sheba winked at Keilah, feeling a sweet exhaustion seeping into her bones too. She ached to see Jehoiada, share this moment with the one she loved most. What would their baby look like? Would it be a girl? A boy?

The chamber door swung open, and Hazi appeared with Zev on his heels—panicked, as Sheba intended.

“Shh!” She tried to rise from her cushion quickly, but her cumbersome belly slowed her progress and tickled her brother’s funny bone. Her humiliation was worthwhile if it softened him for the kill. She waddled into the hallway, inviting her brother and his Carite to follow.

Hazi hesitated when he glimpsed Keilah nursing his newborn son but held his tongue until they were in the hall. “Thank you, Sheba.” His hug nearly suffocated her. Upon release, he held her at arm’s length and fairly glowed. “I don’t know how you did it, but thank you.”

Sheba looked at her belly and then back at her brother. “I didn’t have the baby. Your wife did.”

He laughed hysterically and hugged her again, talking over the top of her head. “I don’t know how you talked Zibiah into letting Keilah nurse our son, but I approve. I so approve! It’s brilliant!”

Startled, she could only stare when he released her again. First at Zev and back at Hazi.

“What?” he asked. “Why aren’t you celebrating with me?”

“Because I’m—” She stopped.
Careful, Sheba. Why would he want Keilah to nurse
the baby? Think!
“Because . . . I’m . . . tired, Brother. Of course I’m pleased you approve of my plan.” Her mind raced. If Ima Thaliah took the girl babies and Hazi took the princes, why would he be happy about a plan that left the boy in Zibiah’s care without requiring her to nurse? What benefit . . . ?
More children! He wants
her to bear more children right away!

“Sheba, you look a bit pale. I believe you
are
tired. Would you like Zev to escort you back to—”

“Hazi, you realize that Zibiah
needs
to nurse the baby until her purification ceremony, don’t you?” His face clouded, suspicion and disappointment candidates for the cause. “Yahweh’s Law says for seven days she is unclean, and on the eighth day, your son must be circumcised.” She lifted an eyebrow. “King Jehoshaphat’s great-grandson
will
be circumcised, won’t he?”

“I don’t see any need for these archaic traditions when—”

Sheba clutched Hazi’s fox-fur collar, drawing him close and keeping her voice low so the guards wouldn’t hear. “Zibiah is to be untouched for forty days—seven days before the circumcision and thirty-three days after. During that time, she
must
be allowed to nurse your son, Hazi. She needs that time to be his ima. Please.” She released his collar and straightened his robe, smiling as Ima Thaliah had taught her.

Hazi grabbed her arm, fingers digging into her flesh, and ground out his words against her ear. “My wife will do as
I
say, Sheba. She has to bear more sons quickly so she can secure the position of first wife—queen. It’s the only way I can secure her power to defend herself against the other wives—defend herself against
Ima
.”

Sheba jerked her arm away, rubbing the throbbing spots that would undoubtedly be bruises tomorrow. “I know you love her, Hazi, but this is not the way to protect her.”

“It’s the only way, and you know it.”

Sheba squeezed her eyes shut.
Lord God, will this madness ever end?
Give me wisdom.
She heard the newborn cry from Zibiah’s chamber and watched Hazi’s features soften. He did love her. “For now, Hazi, promise me that you’ll let Zibiah nurse the boy during her forty days of purification. Give Keilah and me time to have our own babies, and then I’ll talk to Keilah’s husband about her nursing both the prince and her own babe.” What was she saying? How could Keilah be Zibiah’s nursemaid?

“Can a woman do that?” He looked as incredulous as Sheba felt.

“Of course,” she said, hoping it was the truth. “Yahweh made women capable of miraculous things, Brother.”

“You promised him what?” Jehoiada lay beside Jehosheba the next morning, propped up on one elbow, eyes wide. “How can a woman nourish two babies? Nathanael will never agree, and I don’t blame him!” Crimson tinged his cheeks, restraint sifting his anger like winnowed wheat.

“Nathanael may not have a choice, Jehoiada. Hazi is king, after all.” She sounded harsher than intended, but she’d hoped for more sleep before having this conversation. Zev had escorted her and Keilah home after the moon’s zenith, and Jehoiada had been sound asleep. She must have slept through the morning service because she vaguely recalled trumpet blasts, and Jehoiada now lay beside her in his golden garments.

“You surely don’t agree that Keilah should leave her husband and household to become a royal wet nurse.”

“No, my love, I don’t agree, but she wouldn’t
leave
them. She’d be gone part of the day and return at night.” Sheba’s back had begun aching during Zibiah’s labor and had grown worse through the night. She turned away from her husband, curled into a ball, and pointed to her lower spine. “Rub,” she instructed.

Massaging gently, he continued his argument, undaunted. “Did you ask Keilah what she thought? Surely she has enough sense to know that one woman can’t—”

Incessant pounding began at their chamber door, and Nathanael’s voice accompanied it in an unusually high pitch. “My lord—Jehoiada—I need you to open this door now. Right now. It’s very important that you open the door immediately.”

Sheba bolted upright while Jehoiada leapt out of bed and ran to the outer chamber. Nathanael’s incessant knocking and pleading seemed to aggravate Jehoiada’s foul mood. “As surely as the Lord lives, Nathanael, if you don’t stop knocking, I’m going to—”

Sheba heard the door creak open and then—silence. She jumped out of bed, throwing her robe around her shoulders. When she reached the outer chamber, she saw Gadara and Nathanael supporting Keilah between them. Jehoiada was as pale as his under-tunic.