In the Shadow of Jezebel (41 page)

Sheba’s eyes locked on Zev. “I saw the guards leaving the wives’ chambers with bloody swords.”

“Ohhh!” Keilah and Zibiah stifled their cries, and baby Jehoash began to wail.

“Shh,” Sheba whispered. “You must keep him still!”

Zibiah handed the babe to Keilah, who hid him under her robe and began to nurse the little prince. She was the one most apt to succeed amid the tension.

Zev drew Sheba close, whispering so only she could hear. “They’re likely killing only the boys—and the imas if they resist. I’ll stay here with Zibiah, but you must get the prince out of this chamber. Can Keilah keep him under her robe all the way to the Temple?”

Sheba considered her resourceful friend. Hiding Jehoash while seated on the bed wasn’t hard, but keeping him quietly nursing while strolling to the Temple . . . “No, Zev. We can’t make it that far without being seen.” Tears started to form. Panic began
chewing at her, crumbling from the inside out. “Hazi’s sons! All of Hazi’s sons!”

He held her face—and her gaze—until she calmed. “We’re going to save Zibiah and Jehoash, but we can’t march Zibiah out of this chamber unnoticed. You and Keilah can leave together—as you came—hiding the baby under Keilah’s garment. I’ll stay here to guard Zibiah.” When she nodded, he released her. “Since you can’t make it back to the Temple, you must think of somewhere in the palace no one would search for Keilah and Jehoash.”

“Maybe—”

“Don’t tell me.” He clapped his hand over her mouth, startling her.

The intensity of his stare nearly rekindled her panic. He didn’t want to know in case he was captured—and tortured. The thought chilled her. She nodded and he released her.

Sheba hurried toward her friends and whispered instructions. “Zev will stay here to guard you, Zibiah, and I’ll hide Keilah and Jehoash.” When Zibiah started to protest, Sheba cupped her cheeks and kissed her forehead. “I love you, my friend.”

She grabbed Keilah’s arm and nudged her toward the door, snagging Zibiah’s basket of spindles on the way. “Hold this over one arm to hide your little bulge.” She patted her nephew’s warm body. “Stay close behind me, and keep Jehoash nursing. Don’t stop for anyone, and act like you’re afraid of me.”

“Acting afraid won’t be difficult.” Keilah adjusted the baby and the basket. “All right. We’re ready.”

Sheba released a deep breath, steadied her nerves, and prayed for protection. She swung open the door with purpose and, without a pause, turned left, slipping into the guards’ spiral stairway. Keilah closed the door behind them and followed Sheba up. They exited the door near Hazi’s chamber on the third floor.

The watchman on duty nearly dropped his spear. “My lady, I—” Gathering his senses, he bristled. “You’re not allowed on the king’s hallway—”

“How dare you!” Sheba shouted, producing tears at near hysteria. “My brother is dead, and you dare challenge—”

“The king is dead? I had no idea . . . I’m sorry, I—”

Sheba glared through her tears, shaking her head dangerously. “Why aren’t you and the rest of these watchmen in the garden helping with preparations for the burial processional? I’m astonished you would hesitate to carry out the Gevirah’s orders. She’s in no mood for incompetence.”

“We’ll get down to the garden immediately!” He issued a deafening whistle, summoning every guard on the king’s hall—and then apologized when Sheba winced and covered her ears.

Feigning affront, she lifted her chin, heart pounding. “Please inform the Gevirah that I’ll gather a few things from Hazi’s chamber to place in his tomb before I return to the Temple. I’ll meet her in the garden at dusk for the processional.”

“Yes, my lady. I’ll send word to the Gevirah.” He bowed and led the entire floor of watchmen down the spiral stairs.

Sheba hurried toward Abba Jehoram’s chamber, Keilah whispering behind her, “I thought we were going to Hazi’s chamber.”

“I’ll retrieve a few keepsakes from Hazi’s room
after
we find a comfortable hiding place for you and Jehoash in Abba’s chamber. I’ll return for you tonight after the processional.”

2 K
INGS
11:2

But Jehosheba . . . took Joash son of Ahaziah and stole him away from among the royal princes, who were about to be murdered. She put him and his nurse in a bedroom to hide him from Athaliah; so he was not killed.

W
ith each progression of the morning’s service, Jehoiada glanced toward the palace, pleading for Yahweh’s protection of those he loved. So far, no priestly fabric waved from a window.

The sacrificial lamb was slain and the salting of the offering complete. Nathanael had assigned another priest to trim the wicks on the lampstands and offer incense on the golden altar in the Holy Place. Only the Levites’ psalm and the blasting of silver trumpets remained, and then this morning’s service would be over.
Yahweh, forgive my preoccupation.

From where he stood atop the brazen altar, he saw Zabad hurry across the outer court and through the portico. Jehoiada caught his eye as he entered the priests’ court. Disappointment was scrawled across the gatekeeper’s features.
No Jehosheba or Keilah.
The Levites continued their worship, and Jehoiada turned to Nathanael, who was stationed at the northeast corner
of the Temple porch. The high priest relayed the silent message and recognized his own angst on the second priest’s face.

Melodic voices accompanied by harp and lyre ended precisely on a single note. Jehoiada intoned Aaron’s ancient benediction, praying the words over his wife’s circumstance in this moment. “May Yahweh bless you and keep you; may Yahweh make His face shine on you and be gracious to you; may Yahweh turn His face toward you and give you peace.”

The silver trumpets blasted as he descended the altar steps. Nathanael met him before he reached the northern basins. “You didn’t see them return?”

“No.”

“Where could they be?”

“I don’t know.” Jehoiada kept walking, Nathanael following as quickly as his bare feet would carry him, through the portico, down the steps, across the outer court, and into the high priest’s chamber—

“Jehosheba!” both men shouted at once, startling her and interrupting Zechariah’s peaceful meal.

The baby cried, and Jehosheba fumbled to close her robe, plopping Zechariah in Gadara’s lap. The midwife already held Joshua, who appeared to be content and well fed.

Nathanael’s eyes were alight as he walked past them into the next chamber. “Keilah?” When she didn’t answer, he stepped back into the room. “Where’s Keilah?” His smile began to fade. “How are Zibiah and Jehoash?”

Jehoiada saw his wife wilting and gathered her in his arms. “Jehosheba, what hap—”

“Where’s Keilah?” Nathanael grabbed Jehosheba’s arm, trying to wrench her from Jehoiada’s grasp, but the high priest shoved him away.

“Nathanael!” Zabad walked in just then and grabbed Nathanael as he was lunging toward the high priest.

“That’s enough of that!” Gadara shouted at the men. Both babies started to wail. “Keilah’s safe, thanks to Jehosheba, and she did it all without acting like an ox in the market! Oxen in priests’ robes, that’s what you are!” She gathered both babies,
soothing them as she left the room. “Shame on those silly men for upsetting our day.”

Jehoiada wanted to ignore Gadara, who too often resembled a polished brass mirror—reflecting every blemish of his character. But, as usual, she was right. “Forgive me, Nathanael,” he said, watching Zabad steady his fearful friend. Jehoiada pulled his wife into a fierce embrace. “Can you tell this ox in the market what happened?”

“Keilah is hidden away with Prince Jehoash in my abba’s bedchamber.” She melted into Jehoiada’s embrace, and he guided her to the couch as she gathered her composure.

Zabad and Nathanael sat on cushions at her feet, waiting.

“Ima has planned Hazi’s burial procession for this evening,” she began, “and I plan to retrieve Keilah and Jehoash afterward. It was the only solution I could think of when I saw Ima Thaliah’s guards killing Hazi’s sons.”

“You watched them kill . . .” Zabad said, horrified.

“No, no. I saw the guards leaving the wives’ chambers with bloody swords . . .”

Jehoiada watched his wife’s face drain of color. “Jehosheba, what’s wrong?”

“There was no sound.” Before he could clarify, her panic poured out. “There was no sound! If the guards had killed only babies, as Zev said, surely at least one ima would have wept or moaned.” She was crying now, ranting through tears. “But there was nothing, Jehoiada. No sound. Zev said if I escaped with Jehoash, he’d stay with Zibiah. But he knew, didn’t he? He knew it was the only way to save Jehoash. Zev and Zibiah should have been here by now!”

Jehoiada gathered her in his arms, speechless, exchanging a despairing glance with Zabad. Nathanael dropped his head and wept. When Jehosheba stilled, Jehoiada tipped her chin and searched the windows of her troubled soul. “After you left Keilah in your abba’s chamber, did you go back to find Zev or Zibiah?”

She laid her head against his chest. “No, I came straight back here to feed Zechariah and Joshua. I thought Zev would bring Zibiah here—”

“How did you enter the Temple gate without me seeing you?” Zabad interrupted.

“I used the Corner Gate at the back of the complex. I knew if anyone saw me return without Keilah, worship would stop, and the whole city would realize something was wrong.”

A loud pounding on the door launched Zabad to his feet, Nathanael not far behind him. Within a few racing heartbeats, the gatekeeper had drawn his dagger and signaled the second priest to open the door.

Jehoiada held his wife tighter still. “Yes, who is it?”

“I have word from the prophets,” came a strangled whisper.

Warily, Nathanael backed away as Zabad opened the door. A man barely larger than a child stood at the threshold with smudged face and wild hair. He wore a camel-hair robe and leather belt. No sandals. “Elisha sent me with word of Yahweh’s victory.” His eyes sparkled when he smiled.

Zabad grabbed his wrist and yanked him inside, closing the door before he drew more attention. “Did anyone see you?”

“I’m sure anyone that was looking saw me.” The simple answer confounded Zabad and tickled the prophet.

Feeling a grin threaten, Jehoiada left his wife’s side, inviting the man-child to join him at the table. “Tell us about this victory.”

He knelt across from the big high priest. “Jezebel is dead, eaten by dogs. Not enough left to bury.” He leaned over and spit on the limestone floor. “And that was merely the first of General Jehu’s—excuse me,
King
Jehu’s—housecleaning.”

“Are you sure?” Jehosheba breathed—relief, wonder, hope playing at the corners of her mouth.

“Are you the princess?”

Startled, she slid off the couch and took shelter behind Jehoiada, seeming somewhat rattled by the strange little man. “This is my wife, and yes—she is King Hazi’s sister. We heard he was also killed in Jehu’s slaughter, but didn’t realize the rebellion was at Yahweh’s command.”

The prophet peeked over Jehoiada’s shoulder, inspecting Jehosheba like a fig in the market. “I’ve heard she’s a descendant of David—not the family of Ahab. Is that true?”

Annoyed, Jehoiada leaned across the table, using his size to intimidate. “True. But we’re talking about Yahweh’s victory, not my wife or her family.”

The little prophet rose to his knees and leaned across the table, mimicking Jehoiada’s tactic with a grin. “Yahweh’s victory is the
destruction
of Ahab’s family. Jehu killed the seventy princes and even slaughtered King Hazi’s cousins since they happened to wander into Israel.” His face shadowed, and he seemed suddenly dismayed by a thought. “Jehu overstepped his calling when his bloodlust reached into David’s line. I hope your King Ahaziah produced offspring to maintain God’s covenant on the throne.”

The realization toppled Jehoiada back to his cushion. “Jehu has killed the seeds of Ahab
and
David in Israel . . . Athaliah has killed the princes in Judah.”
Lord God, we must
save Jehoash.
Regaining the breath knocked from him, Jehoiada whispered, “How could Jehu kill everyone so quickly?”

“King Jehu didn’t have to kill them all himself. Jezebel’s own eunuchs threw her off her balcony, and the seventy princes of Ahab were killed by their own tutors—to prove their loyalty to the new king. Jehu is a wild man—unpredictable—but one man obedient to Yahweh can turn the course of a nation.”

The words pierced Jehoiada’s heart like a dagger. Hadn’t he tried to convince Hazi of that very thing? “What will Jehu do next?”

“Our new king is preparing for war, High Priest, and has already commissioned Jehonadab the Rekabite to build more chariots.”

Jehosheba leaned over Jehoiada’s shoulder. “Excuse me, sir, but will he use King Hazi’s Carites as soldiers? They accompanied my brother to Jezreel.” Jehoiada stared at his wife, confused by her sudden boldness.

She planted her fists at her waist. “Zev will want to know what happened to his men.”

“All those associated with the house of Ahab—chief men, close friends, and priests—are dead. Including those loyal to your brother.” The prophet recited his answer like a market list.

Just then, the shofars blew, wresting everyone’s attention from the strange little man.

Memories of the Philistine raid made Jehoiada’s heart race. “Has Jehu come south? Will he attack Jerusalem and begin Yahweh’s reforms in Judah?”

“Hmm.” The prophet paused, rubbing the patchy whiskers on his chin. “That would seem a wise strategy . . . but no. Yahweh commanded Jehu to clean out his own waste pot and prepare for further abuse from King Hazael’s Arameans.” Without warning, he leapt to his feet. “I must return to the school at Jericho. Elisha will send word if Yahweh’s plan affects the Temple in Jerusalem or the people of Judah.” The prophet whisked from the chamber, leaving Jehoiada and the others gawking when the door clicked shut.

“That was the strangest man I’ve ever seen.” Zabad was the first to voice the shared opinion.

A second shofar sounded, and Jehosheba donned an amazing calm. “Royal heralds are probably announcing Hazi’s death in the streets. While there’s increased activity at the palace, I could use the prophet’s report as an excuse to see the Gevirah again and then search for Zev and Zibiah.”

“I’ll escort her,” Zabad said.

Jehoiada squeezed his eyes shut. He knew Sheba must continue her pretense with Athaliah, and he must trust Yahweh with her safety—again.
Is
this how faith grows, Lord? Challenging it repeatedly?

Silver trumpets blared from the palace, the signal of court convened in the Throne Hall.

Zabad chuckled. “I suppose we should have expected the Gevirah to call a special session. It appears I’ll escort the high priest to the palace instead of his wife.”

Thank You, Lord.

Jehosheba was on her feet before Zabad finished speaking. “Yes, Zabad! You escort Jehoiada while I get Keilah from Abba’s chamber, and then we’ll search for Zibiah.” She was halfway to the next chamber when Jehoiada heard, “Gadara, I need a gourd and a small blanket to take to the palace!”

The story of Abraham offering Isaac on the altar was suddenly too real. Must he really be willing to give up everyone he loved if Yahweh asked it of him?

Sheba lingered in the palace garden, hiding behind a caper bush, far from the processional preparations but near enough to watch Jehoiada and Zabad enter the Horse Gate. After they disappeared inside, she tightened the blanket around the gourd and nestled it against her chest. The perfect size for a baby.

Strutting as arrogantly as the queen herself, Sheba entered the main hall of the palace. Watchmen shouted threats at the overflow of court spectators in an effort to quell raw emotions. Sheba shouldered past the crowd toward the grand stairway, tilting her bundle toward her chest to keep prying eyes from its true content. Nodding condescendingly to every servant and guard, she ascended the stairs and finally reached the third floor. Relief washed over her. No guards.
Of
course not, when the chaos is by the Throne Hall.
Thank You, Yahweh
. Hurrying toward Abba’s chamber, she slipped in without a sound, surrounded by used palace furnishings.

“Keilah?” Nothing. A little louder, she whispered again, “Keilah, are you—”

“We’re here!” Her friend emerged from behind a tall stack of mattresses, her face registering instant concern. “Why did you bring Zechariah?”

“I didn’t. See?” Sheba separated the blanket from the gourd and held both proudly aloft. They giggled together. “I simply needed people to
think
I brought Zechariah so I could walk out of the palace with a baby.” She took Jehoash in her arms and swaddled him in the blanket she’d brought from the Temple.

“How’s Zibiah?” Keilah’s hopeful eyes dimmed at Jehosheba’s silence. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. She and Zev never returned to the Temple. I came to get you first, and then—”

The door banged open. Two watchmen entered—one of them the man Sheba had deceitfully sent to the garden this morning.
“
Queen
Athaliah has deemed this chamber off limits.” He paused, examining Keilah from head to toe. “I thought you came in here alone, Princess . . . ?”