In the Shadow of Jezebel (43 page)

Sniffs and quiet sobs filled the room. Sheba clutched at her husband’s sleeve. Another loss. She squeezed her eyes closed and laid her cheek against Jehoiada’s chest, feeling the jewels of
the sacred breastpiece.
The twelve tribes—Yahweh’s covenant remains.
The sacred garment that once condemned her now reminded her of Yahweh’s faithfulness to generations past and future. Glancing at Jehoash, she nudged her husband toward their newest proof of Yahweh’s protection. “You should get to know your nephew.”

Jehoiada lifted the babe from Gadara’s arms. “Shalom, young prince. Yahweh has great plans for you.”

Jehoash began to wail, unaccustomed to the big man with shiny clothes.

“Don’t worry, little prince.” Gadara took him back, juggling Zechariah on one hip and Jehoash on the other. “The high priest is big and grumpy, but his character is improving.” She winked at Sheba.

Jehoiada grinned at his favorite adversary and then sobered when he returned his attention to Sheba. “Do you realize what you’ve done, Wife?”

Suddenly anxious, she wondered if the court session had uncovered something she’d done wrong. Had she betrayed Yahweh somehow? Or Jehoiada? Revealed too much to Ima Thaliah? “What did I do?” she asked, ready to make amends, not flee or hide.

“You’ve saved the only male heir to Judah’s throne.” He brushed her lips with a kiss. “Remember when you heard Yahweh’s voice? His call to a greater purpose?”

“David’s covenant,” she breathed.

Her husband’s glistening eyes became the familiar mirror of love, but this time something more. She saw respect, admiration.

Zabad cleared his throat, interrupting the intimate moment and rousing nervous giggles.

Jehoiada reached for Sheba’s hand and faced their friends. “We must find a way to protect Prince Jehoash until he can lead Judah back to Yahweh—”

“Wait! What happened in court?” Gadara blurted the question. “Will Athaliah take us to war against Israel?”

“I don’t think she has enough public support to challenge Jehu.” He glanced at Zabad, inviting his comments.

“Jehoiada’s right. Judeans would protect their homes if Jehu attacked, but they won’t rally to Athaliah when they’re ruled by cruelty and fear.”

“Athaliah rules with fear, but she also seems ruled
by
fear. She’s ordered Zev’s return to Caria to recruit and train a new royal guard who will protect her and the queens of destiny.”

“Wait!” Sheba said, startled by the report. “Ima publicly revealed the queens of destiny? Did she explain its origin, its purpose? Did she say if any of Hazi’s daughters remain?”

Jehoiada drew her close again. “She explained very little. We
know
very little.” Then, glancing at their friends, he shook his head. “For now, we must continue as if nothing has changed. Sheba must play the loyal daughter, and we will continue to worship Yahweh. Wise without lies.”

He lifted his son from Gadara’s arms but held him close to the prince. “Our Zechariah resembles Prince Jehoash enough to be his twin, so as long as only one of them is seen with little Joshua, we should avoid suspicion. Everyone on Temple grounds knows two infant boys live in these outer chambers.”

Gadara snuggled Prince Jehoash close. “You’ve had a rough start, little one, but no army can breach General Gadara’s walls.”

Warm laughter was healing balm after a painful day—and sweet elixir for whatever bitter herbs they must swallow this evening.

2 K
INGS
9:28

[Ahaziah’s] servants took him by chariot to Jerusalem and buried him with his ancestors in his tomb in the City of David.

T
hough Sheba longed to melt into Jehoiada’s arms, she matched Ima Thaliah’s posture atop her royal white donkey. The two women led Hazi’s burial processional to King David’s tombs. Zev followed in Hazi’s chariot, which he’d ordered converted to a funeral bier. Judean watchmen lined Jerusalem’s high wall, standing guard over every street along their path.

When Sheba’s donkey reached the bottom of a hill, she reined him to a halt and stole a glance behind her at the processional winding through the City of David. Jehoiada and his Temple guards descended the hill at the end of Hazi’s processional, her husband’s golden garments glistening in the last rays of this wearying day. Mattan, royal counselors, and Judah’s military commanders surrounded the king’s bier, followed by rows of soldiers and every Baal priest and Astarte priestess in the city.

Prodding her donkey gently, she hurried to catch up with Ima Thaliah and pondered the day’s events. Had it only been this morning that Zev arrived unexpectedly in their outer chamber?
How could so much change in a single day? Hazi and Zibiah dead. Jehoash hidden at the Temple. Ima Thaliah queen. And Baal the legally mandated god of Judah.
Yahweh, deliver us from evil.

“Captain! Control that horse!” Ima’s stately facade cracked when the chariot stallion spooked their white donkeys. Zev strained at the reins, his muscles and veins bulging with the effort.

Sheba found brief solace in the undignified frenzy. The stallion’s stomping mirrored her inner battle, and she masked a smile, cheering him on.

Don’t let them take your heart. They’ll try
, but don’t let them
, Hazi had warned her in Jezreel. He’d watched her heart rage against Ima Thaliah’s restraints, Jezebel’s wickedness, and Baal’s deception.

No
one took my heart, big brother. I gave it freely
.
The thought made her smile. Jehoiada hadn’t taken her heart, nor had Yahweh. She’d given it willingly—each time a lamb’s blood was spilled, each time the sacred incense wafted heavenward. Sheba’s fighting was over. Her heart had been won, not stolen.

“How can you smile, Sheba?” Ima Thaliah’s tone was laced with pain, a dangerous threat in her glare. “Did you love Hazi so little that you can smirk at his burial?”

“I loved him so much that I can enjoy the antics of his horse.” She held her ima’s gaze, pressing into her heart. “Don’t you think Hazi would have used his stallion to make this moment bearable for us?”

The queen’s hand trembled on the reins, her eyes filling relentlessly while the muscle in her jaw danced to a silent dirge. Turning away without a word, Thaliah kicked her donkey, hurrying their pace to the tombs. Within moments, they arrived. Ima slid off the small creature before a guard could assist and nearly dragged Sheba from her own donkey’s back.

“Come, Sheba. Don’t dawdle.” Ima looped her arm in Sheba’s, hurrying her toward the stone-walled courtyard of King David’s tombs.

At the entrance, Sheba stopped. “I’d like to wait for Jehoiada.”

Mattan arrived just then. “What’s the delay?”

Zev and five Baal priests carried Hazi’s body on their shoulders, followed by Judean commanders.

“Jehoiada isn’t going into the tomb.” Ima Thaliah ignored the others and pierced Sheba with her words—brow raised, battle lines drawn.

Sheba’s throat went dry. “Why?”

“Mattan will send Hazi’s spirit to Mot’s underworld without any interference from your high priest or his god.”

Sheba felt a wave of panic when she saw Jehoiada and Zabad shouldering their way through the rows of soldiers, approaching the tomb’s entrance. Both men were a head taller than most guards, but they were unarmed, while Judah’s soldiers wore full battle armor and fidgeted with their swords.

“Choose, Sheba. Your priest returns to his Temple, or both he and his guard join Hazi.”

Sheba glimpsed the watchmen perched atop Jerusalem’s wall, lining the streets, and now forming double rows around the Temple guards behind the processional. Ima had planned this. Too many watchmen separated her from Jehoiada and Zabad. They would die before they reached her.

“Stop, Jehoiada!” Her loud cry rattled the solemn stillness.

Her husband gasped, halted, fear shadowing his face before the familiar anger crawled across his features.

She prayed as she spoke, hoping to save all their lives. “Since I know you cannot yet embrace the mighty Baal Melkart, we cannot allow you to participate in King Hazi’s burial. Return to your Temple, and I will return after the Marzeh is complete.”

“No! I won’t leave you.” Jehoiada took two steps before Zabad pulled him back, and the watchmen drew their swords. The pain in his eyes was unbearable.

“Go back to your God.” Sheba held his gaze, pressing her meaning into his soul. “I go now to bury my brother and fulfill my own calling.” Her knees nearly gave way when she saw Zabad turn him around, leading Yahweh’s high priest back to the Temple.

An iron grip bit into her arm. “You were destined to be a
queen.” Ima Thaliah’s whisper felt hot on her cheek and stunk of day-old garlic.

Sheba ducked through the low entrance and emerged into a large, torch-lit tomb connected by an endless corridor to smaller chambers. In this main sepulcher, shelves lined the right wall, and a low-lying rock slab served as a center table, where Zev and the priests laid Hazi’s wrapped body. The smell of death and sweaty men grew unbearable as Judean commanders squeezed in and priests filed out.

“Where are the priests going?” The realization awakened Sheba’s senses and weakened her knees. Ima Thaliah ignored her, whispering to Zev and Mattan—but a queen of destiny would not go unheeded. “I assume you’ve prepared Judah’s watchmen for Mot’s vengeance should their sacrifices during the Marzeh ceremony displease him, Ima.” Her indignation received more than one concerned glance from the guards and seized the queen’s attention.

“Your quick mind pleases me, my dear, but you will address me as Queen Athaliah now.” A simple nod to the guard beside Sheba sent his fist into her left cheek. Light exploded with the pain, and Sheba fell into the arms of a second man, dazed. She felt herself supported between two watchmen as Ima continued. “Don’t ever forget that you are alive at my pleasure and for my purpose.”

Sheba regained her footing—and her senses. Cheek throbbing, she offered a stately bow. “Forgive me, Queen Athaliah.”

Athaliah returned a curt nod. “It is my pleasure to forgive you, Sheba, and my purpose that you serve as high priestess.”

Sheba swallowed hard, trying to tamp down rising panic. “High priestess?”

“Yes, that’s why you’re here. I had to keep you safe while I send the watchmen to raid Jehoiada’s precious Temple. I couldn’t risk your husband using you as a hostage or a shield.”

With every shred of control, Sheba trained her features. “I had a visitor today who confided information from Jehu’s camp. Raiding Yahweh’s Temple would be a critical error, my queen.” Looking at the watchmen on her right and left, she played the
bluff. “I know without doubt you do not have the loyalty of the military or the people of Judah. In fact, I have reason to believe at least one person in this room is faithful to Yahweh.”

“Who?” Athaliah’s rage boiled quickly. “Tell me who and I’ll kill him myself.”

An empowering peace surged through Sheba. “I will not divulge anything else until this chamber is cleared.”

“Out! Get out or I’ll have you all killed for treason!” The queen’s fury blazed hotter than the torches. Even the commanders fled like haunted spirits from Hazi’s tomb. “Mattan and Zev will stay. No one else.”

The two men looked as if they’d been sentenced to death.

Sheba touched her throbbing cheek, waiting for the tomb to grow quiet. “You once asked me to win Jehoiada’s heart in order to unite Judah with Israel, to restore the glorious days of David and Solomon.” Seeing she’d gained their rapt attention, she lowered her voice, drawing them in. “I’ve won Jehoiada’s heart. Now we must have time to rebuild Judah. Jehu ruined Jizebaal’s plan—”

“Don’t you think I know I’m ruined?” Thaliah seethed.

“
Jizebaal
is ruined, Ima.
You
still have choices.” The comment seemed to startle Thaliah, and Sheba glimpsed her vulnerability. Jehoiada was right—she was ruling with fear because she herself was afraid. A lump lodged in Sheba’s throat, making it impossible to speak.

Ima Thaliah lifted her chin and forced her resolve. “I have lived in the shadow of
Jezebel
all my life. The world has not yet seen
my
strength.” Quick as an Egyptian cat, she grabbed Mattan’s jeweled dagger and sliced her forearm, drawing a steady stream of blood. “Almighty Melkart, lead us to victory!” she cried.

Mattan immediately began chanting, and Ima turned on Sheba with the blade.

“No!” Sheba screamed, jumping out of her path.

Zev blocked the queen’s advance. Incensed, Ima Thaliah raised the blade over her head, but Zev snagged it and twisted her hands behind her back, blood smearing both him and the queen. “I cannot let you harm yourself further, my queen.”
His statement was respectful but firm, seeming to jar Thaliah from her frenzy.

The dagger fell to the dirt floor, and both Sheba and Mattan lunged to retrieve it—Sheba snatching it from the bloodthirsty Baal priest.

“You must cut yourself,” he challenged, eyes fixed on Sheba. “You must prove your devotion to Baal Melkart.”

Sheba aimed carefully crafted words at the queen once more. “I prove my allegiance to the Almighty God every day. If I return to Yahweh’s Temple with cuts on my body, the trust I’ve built with Jehoiada will be lost. You fight your war and I’ll fight mine, but know this. Jehu conspires with the sons of Rekab to build chariots, and he fights for Yahweh. Consider
that
before you shed blood in the Temple where your queen of destiny woos the high priest.”

Zev released Ima Thaliah, and the queen straightened her robe, casting an impatient glance at Mattan. “Well, get me something to staunch the bleeding!” She held her hand over the wound, blood seeping between her fingers, and walked around Hazi’s wrapped body to face her daughter. “You speak with poise and conviction, my dear. I have raised you well.”

Sheba forced a smile and kissed her ima’s cheek. “I must return to the Temple before Jehoiada becomes suspicious. May I have Zev escort me?”

Without answering, Queen Athaliah turned her back, nodding her approval to the Carite. Mattan began chanting his Marzeh, and the Baal priests waiting outside the tomb joined the eerie dirge. Zev and Sheba crept through the City of David in lengthening shadows of the coming night.

Jehoiada paced a flat limestone path in the quarry near the pool where he, Zev, and Obadiah had once hidden King Jehoram. A lifetime ago. He released a sigh and turned abruptly to retrace his steps. The pitch-covered torch swished, dropping pieces of charred cloth and singeing his gray hair and woolen robe. He’d left behind his golden garments in case . . .

He glanced at the other side of the pool, where Keilah and Gadara tended the three babies. Zabad had remained in their living chamber above to direct Jehosheba if—
when
—she returned from Hazi’s tomb.
Yahweh, I will serve You faithfully
no matter what happens, but please . . .

After Zabad had nearly dragged him away from the burial site, Jehoiada had returned to the Temple with a keen sense of urgency to hide the children in the quarry. Nathanael waited above with Zabad to rush into the Holy of Holies if the Ark needed to be lowered through its secret passage. Surely Yahweh would show mercy if someone other than the high priest entered the Most Holy Place to save the Ark.

Laying the torch aside, Jehoiada fell to his knees, weeping. “Yahweh, protect Your Temple, Your Ark, Your priests, Your people. I don’t have an army like Jehu. No horses or chariots. I am one man who strives to be obedient. I have only my love for You—and for my wife.”

“Jehoiada!” Gadara shouted in a panicked whisper.

His head snapped toward the brightening tunnel entrance. Someone—or an army of someones—approached from the city. Had Athaliah discovered their secret?

Two silhouettes appeared, piercing him with relief. “Jehosheba! Zev!”

He grabbed his torch and staggered across the quarry’s uneven floor, his wife and the Carite meeting him halfway. Jehosheba fell into his arms, weeping.

But Zev grinned and shook his head. “Your wife has the tactical mind of a general. You should have seen her handle the queen, and she knew you’d be hiding here—all of you.” He gasped when he glimpsed the babies.

Jehosheba raised her head at the pause, and Jehoiada noticed her bruised cheek. Instant fury caused him to clutch her head in his hands. “Who hit you?”

“Jehoiada, I took a risk—and lost. But I won when it mattered.”

“Your life is not a game, Jehosheba. What if you had
lost
when it mattered?”