In the Shadow of Jezebel (40 page)

Jehoiada’s heart ached.
If only
Hazi had chosen Yahweh. “
So, did Jehu kill Hazi?”

The hardened Carite nodded—disbelief, wonder, fury mixed
on his face. “I saw this with my own eyes, and I can hardly believe it . . . Hazi ordered the Carites to break camp and ride for Jezreel. We arrived late one night, and the next morning, a watchman shouted that a madman was approaching in a chariot, and another identified the driver as Jehu.”

“Jehu came alone?” Zabad’s military senses seemed offended by the thought.

“No, but the dust he kicked up by his driving hid the few troops he brought with him. King Ram sent a horseman down to ask if Jehu came in peace. Something seemed amiss to the king.” Zev shook his head, his eyes misting. “I wish he’d listened to his instincts.” Clearing his throat, he continued with a ragged voice. “When the first horseman didn’t return but instead fell into rank behind Jehu, King Ram sent a second horseman. But the second horseman also fell into rank. King Ram ordered his own chariot hitched, and of course Hazi wouldn’t be left behind. I drove his chariot, following Israel’s king . . .” His voice trailed off, and he wiped his hand down a weary face.

“What happened, Zev?” Jehosheba’s voice was small. “I need to know everything.”

“Jehu stopped his chariot on Jezebel’s herb garden, reminding King Ram that his abba Ahab had stolen that ground years before from the vineyard owner Naboth. Then he condemned idolatry and Jezebel’s witchcraft—calling her a pile of dung, though he knew she listened from the palace balcony. I think that’s when King Ram realized Jehu meant to kill him, because that’s when he tried to warn Hazi—but it was too late.”

Jehoiada gathered Jehosheba into his arms as Zev unfolded the most difficult details. “Jehu shot King Ram first. The arrow pierced his heart, my lady. He didn’t suffer. I wheeled King Hazi’s chariot up the road to Beth Haggan with Jehu and two other chariots swift on our heels. As we neared Ibleam, I heard Hazi cry out and saw an arrow in his back. Jehu and his men abandoned their chase then and turned back toward Jezreel.” He stared into Jehosheba’s eyes like a man haunted. “My king died in my arms at the Megiddo fortress with three requests: ‘Save my signet for Jehoash. Protect him and Zibiah. And Sheba
must tell Ima Thaliah of my death—or there will be more blood. Too much blood.’”

Jehoiada’s arms tightened around his wife even as he began shaking his head. “No, Zev.”

“No, I can’t,” she agreed, panic in her voice. “Hazi was right about the blood. Whoever tells her will die, and others too—” She gasped. “Zibiah!” Jehosheba leapt to her feet, her brow creased, hand covering her mouth while she stood deep in thought. “Hazi was right, though. I must tell Zibiah and then get her out of the palace before anyone else knows. We must hide her and Jehoash in the quar—” She clapped her hands over her mouth and glanced at Jehoiada as if she’d released a wild beast from her lips.

“Zev knows about the quarry, my love. Remember? We hid there together with your abba.” Jehoiada purposely left out the new tunnel entrance hidden by the goatskin beneath them. Though he trusted Zev, wisdom dictated keeping some secrets from the top Carite.

Zev cleared his throat, drawing their attention. “I’ve placed Hazi’s wrapped body in the quarry.”

“You carried him all this way—alone?” Zabad asked, his tone laced with respect.

“The soldiers at Megiddo helped me wrap and prepare the king’s body for burial. I left there at dusk and traveled all night on a dromedary, arriving at the quarry just before dawn this morning.” He lifted his chin, regaining his warrior’s mettle. “I welcomed Hazi into this world. I taught him to walk, to drink, and to fight. I protected him in life, and I held him in death. He
will
be safely buried in Jerusalem.” The Carite’s features hardened, and he pushed himself to stand. “And I
will
protect Zibiah and Prince Jehoash. Come, my lady,” he said, offering his hand to Jehosheba.

“No!” Jehoiada stood, intercepting her hand before she could seal the pact. “I admire your determination, Captain, and I’ll pray for Zibiah’s and Jehoash’s protection, but I will
not
allow my wife to meet certain death.”

“I’m going to fulfill Hazi’s last wishes.” Jehosheba’s quiet
voice crashed like cymbals in Jehoiada’s ears. She stood behind him, laying her head against his back, arms around his middle. “Yahweh is my strength and my shield. My heart trusts in Him, and I am helped.”

Jehoiada bowed his head and held his wife’s arms tightly around him.
Yahweh, forgive my doubt and fear
. Strengthen my faith to trust You without question—no matter
what comes next.

2 K
INGS
9:27

When Ahaziah king of Judah saw what had happened, he fled up the road to Beth Haggan. Jehu chased him, shouting, “Kill him too!” They wounded him in his chariot on the way up to Gur near Ibleam, but he escaped to Megiddo and died there.

S
heba and Keilah stood with Zev, ready to exit the moment Zabad opened the Temple gates at dawn. “Yes, I remember the signal,” Sheba assured her husband for the sixth time, kissing his cheek.

“Tell us again.” This time Zabad quizzed her.

She reached into her pocket for the unique multicolored priests’ linen, exposing only a peek of it. “If we’re in trouble, I’ll hang this swatch of fabric from a north window of the palace. Now open the gate!”

Zabad glanced at Jehoiada, who reluctantly nodded his approval.

The lump in Sheba’s throat grew. “I’ll be back soon.” She rose on tiptoes and kissed her husband’s cheek—for the seventh time—and left the Temple grounds.

“Are you all right?” Keilah squeezed Sheba’s hand as they walked down the garden path toward the palace, Zev leading them.

She nodded but couldn’t speak. In truth, the inner trembling had returned. Zechariah had sensed it, refusing to nurse, and Keilah had soothed him with her milk supply. Probably for the best. Sheba might have to nurse both Jehoash and Zechariah tonight. Who knew how Zibiah would react to the news about Hazi?

Pressing a breath between pursed lips, she tried to staunch her stubborn tears. “How do I tell her, Keilah? What do I say?”

“Yahweh will give you words.” Another hand squeeze, and they followed Zev through the servants’ quarters, fear chafing at Sheba’s nerves like the sackcloth she and Keilah wore. Though most attendants would be away from their quarters, they hoped their plain robes would avoid suspicion.

Yahweh, I’m frightened. Please calm my fears and
prepare the way.

Nearing the southernmost end of the barracks, they ascended the guards’ spiral stairway to the women’s hall on the second floor. Zev opened the hall door, surprising the Judean watchmen on duty. Abruptly, Zev closed the door behind him, leaving the women waiting in the stairway.

“What’s he saying?” Keilah whispered.

Before Sheba heard a word, Zev opened the door and led them past six contrite watchmen, straight to Zibiah’s door. Sheba caught his shoulder as he reached for the latch. “What did you say?”

“I told them Hazi is dead, but unless they want to face the Gevirah’s wrath, they’ll keep quiet until you’ve had a chance to inform his widow.” He leaned close to whisper, “Athaliah’s watchmen have no honor, but they’re not stupid.” He opened the door and stood aside, allowing Sheba and Keilah to enter first.

“Sheba? Keilah, what are you doing—” Even in the dim glow of dawn, Sheba saw Zibiah’s sleepy face—and recognized her fear at the sight of Zev.

Sheba lunged toward the bed, covering Zibiah’s mouth before her wail escaped. Keilah held her in a ferocious embrace, both soothing as best they could while keeping her silent.

Sheba cried too, whispering in her ear, “Hazi was killed in battle, Zibiah. I’m sorry. I know it’s awful, but we can’t weep
and wail. Ima Thaliah can’t know until we’ve hidden you and Jehoash, Zibiah. You must be silent.”

Her words seemed to sink in slowly, calming their friend’s flailing and grief. And then confusion. “Why are we in danger?”

Sheba’s heart nearly broke at the innocence of that question. How could an aristocratic sheep farmer’s daughter fathom Athaliah’s plan for the queens of destiny, when Sheba herself didn’t know it completely? Zibiah had been raised at her ima’s knee, helping servants with spinning, weaving, and baking bread, with little exposure to bloodthirsty political scheming. “Anyone with a drop of royal blood is in danger until it’s clear who will sit on Hazi’s throne.”

The handmaids.
Sheba turned to find Zibiah’s maids huddled around Prince Jehoash’s cradle. Pinning Keilah with a stare, she nodded in the baby’s direction. Understanding, her friend ambled toward the cradle, gathered Jehoash in her arms, and placed him in Zibiah’s embrace.

Sheba slipped Hazi’s signet ring from her pocket, keeping it hidden for only Zibiah to see. With a quick glance over her shoulder, she ensured the handmaids couldn’t hear her whisper. “Jehoiada will keep this at the Temple, but someday this will be Jehoash’s.”

“But he’s a baby. How long must Jehoash wait to be ki—”

Sheba clamped her hand over Zibiah’s mouth, patience waning. “Shh! Just trust me.”

Zibiah squeezed her eyes shut, nodded, and lowered her voice. “I’m sorry, of course. What must I do?”

“Keilah will stay here with you and Jehoash while Zev and I tell Gevirah Thaliah about Hazi. Gather only the things you
absolutely
need, and when we return . . .” Glancing back at the handmaids, Sheba added quietly, “You and Jehoash will come with us, but don’t let your maids leave the chamber to slip a message to anyone. I think we can trust them, but . . .”

Word of Hazi’s death had traveled down the women’s hall to the watchmen stationed at Ima Thaliah’s door. “I’m sorry
about your brother, Princess,” one of the guards whispered from a bow, the same man who had been kind to her yesterday.

Sheba placed a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you. Is the Gevirah awake yet?”

He stood to attention but kept his voice low. “Yes, my lady. She broke her fast and has already called for the priest Mattan to begin plans for the festival.”

“Thank you again. You may announce my arrival.” He lifted his spear to pound on the door, but Sheba stopped him. “Only
my
arrival. I’ll introduce the Carite.”

“Yes, my lady.” The spearhead hit the door, and the big guard disappeared inside.

Zev turned a slow, stunned look her direction. “Making friends, I see.”

She lifted only one corner of a smile. Hazi would have been proud too, no doubt. The thought pierced her anew. She sniffed fresh tears and rolled back her shoulders. “Walk behind me, Zev. I know you’re too big to hide, but Ima will know about Hazi the moment she sees you. We need to get as far as possible into her chamber before dealing with her reaction—whatever it is.”

He nodded as the door opened wide, and then did as she asked.

Relieved to see the outer chamber lit dimly with niche lamps, she heard Ima’s voice from the bedchamber. “By the gods, Daughter, why have you come so early?” As Sheba realized her ima might not be dressed yet, the Gevirah stepped around the dividing curtain in full splendor.

And then she spotted Zev.

Stumbling backward, she grabbed the curtain, bringing the heavy tapestry down to the floor with her. Sheba rushed toward her, but Thaliah held her off, arm extended, eyes fixed on the Carite. “Tell me.” No tears, her voice cold and dead. When Sheba tried again to approach her, she screamed, “No! Tell me now!”

Sheba recoiled, but Zev knelt, head bowed. “The traitor General Jehu drove like a madman to Jezreel, killed your brother, King Ram, and chased King Hazi and me in the chariot to
Ibleam. Your son took an arrow to the liver and died at the Megiddo fortress. I’ve wrapped his body and await your command, Gevirah. I have no word on the fate of Queen Jizebaal.”

Silence.

Standing by the Carite, Sheba tried to still her ragged breathing. She hadn’t even considered Jezebel! Zev’s report had been masterful. Concise. Truthful. Yet no hint of his real feelings or purpose. Could she ever be as proficient? She heard a sniff and glimpsed a distinct quiver on Ima Thaliah’s lips, tears gathering on her lower lashes.

Four eunuchs continued their morning work in the bedchamber, exposed after Ima pulled down the dividing curtain—one arranging the cosmetics, another making the bed, the others at the washbasins. None of them dared pause and risk her wrath.

“Ima, may I send one of your eunuchs for warm honeyed wine? Perhaps I should stay with you.” Sheba kept her distance, not willing to be rebuffed again.

Surprisingly warm, Ima softened her features and extended her hand for assistance. Both Zev and Sheba hurried to help her stand. “Thank you, my dear, but no.” She wiped tears, smearing the kohl already applied, and then huffed when she noticed it on her hand. “Ohhh, I’ll have to retouch my eyes. Don’t put away those cosmetics,” she shouted at her eunuch. Wiping away another sniff, she took a deep breath and addressed Zev. “Thank you, Captain, for bringing my son’s body home. King Hazi will be buried in King David’s tombs—the last of David’s sons on Judah’s throne. We’ll make sure his memory lives forever.”

Warning shofars sounded in Sheba’s head.
The last of David
’s sons on Judah’s throne.
“Ima, I’m sure Zev is capable of arranging the burial details. I’ll stay so we can discuss your plans for Judah.”

“Forgive my boldness,” Zev interrupted, winning a wicked stare from Ima, “but my duty now lies with you, Gevirah, and my talents lie with sword and dagger, not in women’s work with burial spices.”

“Your duty and your talents lie wherever I command them.” The Gevirah’s tone was unpolished granite. “Deliver my son’s
body to the palace garden. We begin the processional into the City of David at dusk.”

Zev stood and bowed once more. “Yes, Gevirah.”

“Sheba is leaving as well,” she called after him. “You may escort her back to the Temple before you make the arrangements.” Ima cradled Sheba’s hand, her expression pleasant. “I will send for you later today, my dear. We’ll talk then about our plans for Judah’s queens of destiny. I must find a messenger who knows something of Ima Jizebaal’s fate. If she’s hiding in Tyre as I suspect, we must continue the work already begun. Go back to your husband for now, but be ready to take action, my girl.” Sheba lingered, and the pleasantry turned to a hiss. “I said go!”

Sheba bowed and then hurried to catch up with Zev at the chamber door.
We must get Zibiah and Jehoash to the
quarry!

As they exited, Ima called out behind them, “Send in all the watchmen from the women’s hallway immediately. I want them in my chamber
now
!”

Zev bowed, and Sheba walked out the door as Judah’s watchmen filed in.

It was the longest walk of Sheba’s life. Her steps slow, gait steady, she strolled down the long women’s hall as Zev informed every watchman at each door of the Gevirah’s immediate summons. Every guard showed terror, glancing at Sheba as if she’d undoubtedly instigated his execution—as she’d inadvertently done to Ima’s chamber guards yesterday.

When Sheba and Zev arrived in Zibiah’s chamber, they immediately dismissed the maids. Zibiah sat nursing Jehoash while Keilah fidgeted beside her, not knowing what to pack. Sheba lost all patience. “Zibiah, let Keilah nurse the baby, and
you
fill a shoulder bag!”

Sheba thought the maids had gone, but one of them tapped her on the shoulder. “My lady, I know we’ve been dismissed, but if we’re seen in our rooms in the middle of a workday—”

“I don’t care! Just get out!”

The girl dissolved in tears and ran, the other maids following. They were gone only a few moments when Sheba’s conscience assaulted her. She paused at the door, casting a lethal stare at Zibiah. “I’m going to apologize, but when I return, we’re taking you and Jehoash out of here—packed or unpacked.”

She calmed herself before opening the door and then peeked into the hall. The maids were descending the grand stairway—a silly way to go unnoticed. She rolled her eyes, then gasped. Two watchmen exited one of Hazi’s wives’ chambers, wiping blood from their swords. Then two more from across the hall, swords also dripping blood. The guards exchanged wary glances, shook their heads, and entered the next two chambers.

Sheba closed the door, clutching her stomach and covering a sob. Zev noticed her horror. “What? What did you see?”

“The guards.” She stared at Zibiah and Jehoash.
Lord God, please 
no!

Zev shook her. “Sheba, what about the guards?” He reached for the latch, but she fell against the door, keeping him from opening it. “We can’t let them know we saw them.”

“Saw them what?” Zibiah asked in a panicked whisper.