In the Shadow of Jezebel (42 page)

Sheba’s heart thundered like racing horses, her thoughts keeping pace. “What do you mean, ‘
Queen
Athaliah’?”

“I mean the Gevirah will assume Judah’s throne in a few moments, and you didn’t answer my question.” He moved to seize Keilah’s arm, but Sheba blocked his path.

“You’re not much of a
watchman
if you miss a beautiful woman like Keilah walking into Abba’s bedchamber with me. She’s the baby’s nursemaid.”
Wise without lies.

His eyes narrowed. “I’m a very good watchman, Princess, and I’ll prove it by taking you both to the queen. As you so rightly reminded me this morning, Queen Athaliah’s in no mood for incompetence.”

Sheba sensed she’d spent her last shekel of intimidation on this man. Tears were her only recourse. “I’m sorry I tricked you this morning.” She sniffed, allowing pools to form on her lower lashes. “The truth is, I never said good-bye to my abba or my brother, and I’m grieving. Can you understand that?”

The second guard handed her a dirty piece of linen to wipe her nose, but the threatening one remained stoic and silent.

“Ima Thaliah has never seen my son,” she continued, causing both men to instinctively look at the babe in her arms.
Wise without
lies.
She squeezed her eyes closed, releasing a stream of tears down her cheeks. “Perhaps today, during the specially convened court, my ima should see her grandson. Isn’t he the only one she has left?” It was a terrible risk. She wasn’t sure Ima had murdered
all
the princes. And if she was forced to present Jehoash, would Ima kill him, thinking he was Zechariah?

“All right, Princess, I’ll gladly present you and your son to the queen—and tell her I found you in King Jehoram’s bedchamber. I suppose she’ll kill your son like the rest of her grandsons.”

She heard Keilah gasp. Ima
had
killed all of Hazi’s sons. Sheba forced indifference—and then a slow grin. “I have a better idea, Watchman. You go right now and tell Ima Thaliah that her daughter, a queen of destiny, can’t honor the spirits of
the dead in Yahweh’s Temple. Then you ask her if she forbids me to have a private
Marzeh
ceremony with my son in Abba Jehoram’s chamber. Go ahead. Ask her if she forbids worship of Baal Melkart in Abba’s chamber.”
Wise without lies. Wise without
lies.

Her new argument confounded the threatening guard, and Sheba attacked his confusion. “With all the sons of David dead and Ima Thaliah on the throne, you would do well to court my favor, Watchman. Have I not always been the queen’s treasure?”

Fear washed both guards’ faces white as a tomb, and Sheba knew she’d won the battle.

While the men debated silently, Sheba hoisted Jehoash into Keilah’s arms and lifted a trembling hand to her forehead. “I’m too upset now to appear before the queen. Come, Keilah, we’re returning to the Temple. Get out of my way!” Plowing forward, she split the guards like freshly turned soil and called over her shoulder, “I’ve got to rest before tonight’s processional. If I faint on the way to King David’s tombs, I’ll tell Queen Athaliah it’s your fault!”

She heard Keilah’s faint footsteps behind her but dared not look back.
Lord God, get us back to the Temple
safely.

2 C
HRONICLES
22:10–12

When Athaliah . . . saw that her son was dead, she proceeded to destroy the whole royal family of the house of Judah. But Jehosheba . . . hid the child from Athaliah so she could not kill him. He remained hidden with them at the temple of God for six years while Athaliah ruled the land.

Z
abad and Jehoiada again used the shortest route to the Throne Hall, hurrying along the dimly lit corridor of the northern stable. They emerged through a side door into the teeming courtroom and found Athaliah seated on Hazi’s throne, Mattan standing at her right in full regalia, and—

“Jehoiada, it’s Zev!” Zabad spoke over the high priest’s shoulder, pressing him faster through the crowd and closer to the throne. “Look at his face. He’s badly beaten.”

Jehoiada noted the deep cuts and fresh bruises on Zev’s face and his slightly swayed stance. The Carite captain was definitely in pain and had met with violence since coming to the palace. How many guards had attacked him to inflict such damage on a soldier so skilled? Had he been injured while trying to save Zibiah? Would Athaliah trust him to guard her if he’d shown
loyalty to Hazi’s wife? Jehoiada had given up trying to understand Athaliah’s scheming, but Yahweh knew.

Lord, give me wisdom to
discern truth and courage to protect Your people.

Watchmen separated a scuffle between spectators in the back corner, and the whole room throbbed with angst. Jehoiada and Zabad continued their slow progress toward the front, wincing when Athaliah began pounding the platform with the ancient scepter of Solomon. When her signal failed to settle the mob, she motioned to Zev, who called a watchman to the platform and relayed the Gevirah’s message.

Without warning, the watchman grabbed the nearest spectator and sliced his throat. A collective gasp joined Jehoiada’s horror, and utter silence fell with the dead man.

“You two,” Zev shouted from swollen lips, “out with him.” Two watchmen dragged the dead body from court, trailing a testimony of Athaliah’s ruthlessness up the center aisle and out the grand cedar doors.

“Thank you for your attention,” the Gevirah began.

Jehoiada’s stomach lurched when he felt Zabad’s hand pressing him forward. “Keep going! We should be at the front of the crowd so we can obey if Yahweh calls us to act.” Zabad must have been Yahweh’s infusion of courage. Jehoiada commanded his legs to move, praying he’d be able to hear Yahweh speak over his pounding heart.

“As you heard from the royal heralds in the streets, my son and your king, Hazi, was brutally murdered by the traitorous General Jehu of Israel’s army. And as you can see, Captain Zev fought bravely to return his king’s body to Judah.” A murmur began, but Athaliah lifted the scepter and quieted the room like a tomb. “A messenger from Israel arrived moments ago with news that both King Ram and the Gevirah Jizebaal are also dead.”

Jehoiada and Zabad arrived at her throne as she delivered the news. “Jehu didn’t do that to Zev!” Zabad whispered over his shoulder.

Jehoiada shushed his gatekeeper, realizing Athaliah meant to use Zev to gain the crowd’s sympathy.

“My high priest, Mattan, has divined the meanings of these dire events and will interpret their impact on our nation.”

Mattan signaled six of his priests out of the shadows, each holding a gold basin containing bloody entrails. “The blackened goat heart is the sign of death and destruction . . .”

Zabad leaned over again. “I think I could have divined death and destruction after hearing of Hazi’s, Ram’s, and Jezebel’s deaths, don’t you?”

Jehoiada ignored him.

“In the sheep’s stomach, I found an unground kernel of wheat, whole and complete. Baal Melkart has promised a new reign, a whole and complete ruler for Judah.” Receiving a flask of oil from a seventh priest, he lifted both hands. Athaliah slid from the throne onto her knees and removed her silken headpiece. “Athaliah, blood-born daughter of Jizebaal of Tyre and Ahab of Israel, chosen daughter of Judah’s great King Jehoshaphat and Gevirah of our noble King Hazi—by the divine power of almighty Baal Melkart, I anoint you queen and sovereign of Judah.” Mattan emptied the small flask of oil over Athaliah’s head. “Let all of Baal’s people rejoice.”

Halting applause pattered, crackled, and died. The new queen resumed her throne and raised a linen cloth to blot the oil dripping down her cheeks. In the looming silence, she lowered her head, allowing Mattan to place Hazi’s crown atop her plaited black and gray hair.

Scanning left and right, the new queen appraised her subjects and then rested her gaze on Yahweh’s high priest. “As I am now the whole and complete ruler of Judah, I decree that every household bow their heads and hearts to my lord Baal Melkart.”

Zabad squeezed Jehoiada’s shoulder, and Jehoiada squeezed his eyes shut.
Yahweh, I know You’re
at work in Israel, but what about Judah? What will
become of Your Temple and Your people here?
A plaintive rumble spread through the gathering, and guards pressed in on all sides. Someone shoved Zabad, sending him into Jehoiada, whose eyes were now wide with fright. The crowd began to surge, roiling its disapproval.

Mattan, visibly unnerved, approached the front of the dais.
“Hear me! Hear me, citizens of Judah! The queen’s order does not
prevent
the worship of other gods in our nation!”

The queen pounded her scepter on the platform again. The Carite beside her stared at Jehoiada—held his gaze long enough to reveal the captain’s spirit, as badly beaten as his body.

The Judeans quieted to the pounding of Athaliah’s scepter, and Mattan took up his plea once more. “Every household will maintain an altar to Baal Melkart, uniting us in worship of one god—the mighty Rider of the Clouds—but this in no way
limits
whom you may worship.” Baal’s high priest signaled for another golden basin and reached in with both hands, drawing out two bloody entrails. “The gods revealed their will this morning, when two livers were found in a single yearling lamb. Judah’s gracious queen won’t limit her people to one god, but she mandates that every household worship a god that recognizes
all
gods.”

“It’s a lie,” Zabad ground out between clenched teeth. “Can’t the people see that he’s manipulating them with sheep guts? You must say something, Jehoiada—do something.”

“What would you have me do?” he asked amid the sea of confusion. “If I confront Mattan or Athaliah now, will it stop this?”

Zabad had no answer, frustration shading his neck crimson.

“Change must take place at Yahweh’s command and in the
people’s
hearts. Have you received a call like Jehu’s? Have we won the people’s loyalty like King Jehoshaphat?”

“So, it’s hopeless.” The defeat on Zabad’s face was more terrible than his fury.

“Yahweh has begun the fight in Israel.” Jehoiada lowered his voice and leaned close. “The reaction of this crowd tells me Athaliah doesn’t have enough support to mount a war effort. Wisdom says wait. We must save Jehoash, teach him of Yahweh, and wait on Yahweh to move in Judah.”

Athaliah stood, increasing her command over the gathering. She pointed at Zev’s swollen face and shouted, “Captain Zev bears the wounds of Jehu’s zeal for his
one god
. Israel’s traitorous general annihilated Ahab’s entire family—King Ram and even his seventy sons—to impose Yahweh’s archaic rules. Why serve a god who demands only blood and discipline when you
can enjoy many gods that promise pleasure and abundance? Baal offers you freedom, Judah! Freedom!”

“Long live Queen Athaliah!” came a feeble shout from the back.

“Long live Queen Athaliah!” another man echoed, this voice stronger. Soon the Throne Hall swelled with the chant. “Long live Queen Athaliah! Long live Queen Athaliah!”

Those standing near Jehoiada cast furtive glances and stepped away from him, leaving a noticeable divide between the mob and Yahweh’s servants.

Athaliah pounded her scepter again, and the room instantly grew still, her earlier lesson well learned. “With freedom comes sacrifice, my people, and I have sad news to share. My son was betrayed by his wives.” She lifted a linen cloth to kohl-rimmed eyes, stirring the emotions of her newly won crowd. “I was forced to act quickly when I discovered the treachery in my own palace. Now that the evil has been purged from Jerusalem’s walls, we can move forward in unity and harmony.”

Jehoiada heard murmurs, questions about the fate of Hazi’s wives, but none were courageous enough to interrupt the new queen as she rushed forward with her plans.

“Captain Zev now stands beside me as he stood beside Hazi. He will return to his homeland, recruit and train a new force of Carites, and bring them back to Jerusalem to guard me and the remaining royals.” Zev stood like a crumbling statue, stooped but immovable.

Finally, someone shouted, “How many remain from the house of Judah?” Watchmen swarmed the man, dragging him from the hall as he pleaded for reprieve.

The queen’s voice lowered to a sultry purr. “There is no longer a house of Judah, my people. I will fashion queens of destiny, transforming Judah from a nation to a
kingdom
.”

Silence. The queen’s power was complete, effective, and thoroughly binding.

Smiling, Athaliah again signaled Zev to bend close for her whisper. Every spectator near the throne backed away—all but Jehoiada and Zabad. She noted their stand and offered a cur
sory nod as Zev stepped to the front of the platform with a labored gait.

Wincing in pain, the captain announced with a voice strong and clear, “King Hazi’s burial processional begins at dusk and will proceed from the palace garden through the City of David to the ancient tombs. Let no man or woman, slave or child be found on the streets when the royal procession passes by.”

Trumpets blared, declaring the session’s end. Mattan escorted Athaliah up the center aisle—their robes smearing the blood of the man the queen had ordered silenced.

Zabad stood, unmoving, while spectators hurried away from this new reign of terror. “So, Judah is bullied into silence, and Baal Melkart shoves Yahweh into a list of other gods.” He turned to Jehoiada, cheeks mottled crimson. “Why did we come? You didn’t even speak.”

“Sometimes prudence must temper zeal, my friend. Perhaps we came not to speak but to listen. We now know Judah’s burden—fear—and Yahweh’s Temple can become their refuge.” Jehoiada braced his gatekeeper’s shoulder. “And perhaps we came for Zev. It appears our dear Zibiah is gone, and his countenance conveys a loss greater than I first realized. Yahweh may have plans for the captain of which we know nothing yet.”

Sheba sat with Keilah and Gadara in her chamber, door barred, each woman with a babe in her lap. Gadara had wept for joy at the sight of Keilah, the two like sisters since the midwife had come to help raise the Temple babies, as Joshua and Zechariah were known to other priests. Gadara adored Prince Jehoash instantly, and all three women prayed for Zibiah, not knowing her fate but hoping somehow Zev had secreted her to a safe location.

They’d settled onto their cushions around the low-lying table when trumpets announced court adjourned.

No one had spoken since—not even chatty Gadara.

How long had they been waiting? Long enough to nurse two babes and let Keilah begin feeding the third.

Perhaps Jehoiada and Zabad had stopped to talk with Nathanael about tonight’s evening worship. But would there be an evening service? Or would they cancel it because of Hazi’s processional?
Or will we flee
to the quarry and never worship in Yahweh’s Temple
again?

Fear grabbed Sheba’s insides and shook her, robbing her breath. Her thoughts spun in circles—all ending in death for her husband, her son, her friends.

No!
She took a deep breath and released it slowly.
I
will wait in hope for the Lord; He is my
help and my shield. I will wait in hope for
the Lord; He is my help and my shield. I
will wait in hope—

The door latch turned, and a hard
thump
hit the barred door. All three women jumped, letting out a faint cry.

“Jehosheba?” Jehoiada’s voice!

“Yes, yes! I’m coming!” She plopped Zechariah in Gadara’s lap and raced to open the door.

Jehoiada rushed in, nearly smothering her in his embrace. “Thank the Lord you’re safe.”

“I was going to say the same about you!” She peeked over her husband’s arms and saw Zabad followed by Nathanael, who barred the door behind them.
No Zibiah.

Nathanael hurried toward Keilah, circling her waist with a possessive hug, showing her off like a new pair of sandals. “I got my wife back—thanks to Jehosheba.” Keilah’s cheeks grew pink, and the whole chamber filled with love and laughter.

Zabad offered a quick wink to Gadara—the only two in the room not hugging. She squeezed the two babies in her arms, burying her face in their necks.

Sheba could hold her tears no longer. “Zibiah?”

Jehoiada glanced at Zabad before brushing his wife’s cheek. “I’m sorry, my love. Zev was guarding Athaliah at court. He’d been badly beaten and seemed . . . defeated. Athaliah hinted at her savagery—trying to justify it—by saying Hazi’s wives betrayed him. She confirmed the house of Judah is no more.”