by Mesu Andrews
The musicians began a lilting melody as King Ahaz instructed Hezekiah to kneel and then placed Solomon’s golden scepter in his hand. Uriah invoked Yahweh’s blessing on the new co-regent and poured the flask of oil on his head, letting it drip onto his cheeks and beard. The music swelled, and the audience cheered. Hezekiah raised his arms, victorious, and King Ahaz urged him to his feet, embracing the son who was now equal in power and authority.
Isaiah, focused on Hezekiah’s face, saw the moment a profound change happened. King Ahaz whispered something during the embrace, and the joy that had marked the occasion drained from Hezekiah’s features like blood from a wound. Fear, anger, and confusion warred on the new co-regent’s features.
King Ahaz released him and addressed the gathering like a proud abba. “My son has agreed that his first priority will be to travel throughout our nation, reinforcing damaged fortresses and rebuilding high places that have been too long neglected.” Hezekiah’s eyes were lifeless, his jaw set as King Ahaz gushed. “I’ve promised to approve his marriage to any maiden of his choice when he completes the task.” The king patted Hezekiah’s shoulder and chuckled. “By the time he learns the art of love from every priestess on Judah’s high places, he’ll be ready to settle down with a wife.” Bawdy laughter erupted from the men, but the women sneered with the same disgust Isaiah felt.
Hephzibah’s features were set like stone, her eyes fixed on Isaiah’s face. Hezekiah returned to his place at the table without a word, without a glance at Isaiah’s daughter.
21
May your fountain be blessed,
and may you rejoice in the wife of your youth.
—Proverbs 5:18
I hadn’t slept all night. Every time I closed my eyes, my mind replayed the memory of Hezi with dancing girls draped across his lap. So I took my mat to the courtyard and spent the night beside the dovecote. My birds’ quiet cooing soothed my soul enough to think more clearly about the evening. Had Hezi touched the women? Smiled at them? Looked on them with desire? As hard as I tried, I remembered only his apparent discomfort, an awkwardness in his manner.
But neither had Hezi objected when King Ahaz assigned him the task of rebuilding high places and sleeping with temple prostitutes. Hezi was now co-regent and equal in authority to his abba in name, if not yet in practice. Without protest or debate he had bowed to his abba’s will. Why? My doves cooed, but peace wouldn’t come.
Before the eastern sky glowed with sunrise, Yaira appeared in the doorway with a few dried crusts of bread for my birds. “How long have you been with your doves?” She sat on the mat beside me, handing me a few crusts to crumble.
“All night,” I said. “I didn’t want to disturb you with my tossing and turning.”
She laid a few crumbs in front of us so the tame doves would draw near enough to touch. Their iridescent feathers felt more delicate than Persian silk. “The master and mistress are awake,” she said. “They sent me to check on you.”
I didn’t know what to say. How could I describe the void I felt? I’d maintained a stoic veil through last night’s banquet but dissolved into tears the moment I returned home and saw Yaira. She’d poured out her compassion and wisdom before she slept, and I had no more words this morning.
Had I lost my words again as I did when I was five? No. I held tightly to Yahweh’s promise, “As a bridegroom rejoices over his bride, so will your God rejoice over you.” I was a bride whether I became Hezi’s queen or not.
Yaira reached for my hand. “Master Isaiah said Hezekiah seemed troubled last night when King Ahaz announced he would restore the fortress cities and high places of Judah. The master is almost certain Hezekiah is being forced into it somehow.”
Almost certain he’s being forced. The thought brought bile to my throat. “He’s being forced to sleep with temple prostitutes?”
“Zibah, you know he won’t do that.”
Stubborn tears burned my eyes. “The Hezi I knew would never do that, it’s true, but I’m not sure about the Hezi I saw at last night’s banquet.” The words tasted bitter on my tongue and sounded even worse to my ears. “I don’t know what to think, Yaira. Before Abba and Ima’s prophecy, I’d accepted that Hezi would marry someone else. But now, knowing that Yahweh chose me as Hezi’s queen, the thought of another woman in Hezi’s arms twists my stomach into knots.”
Yaira straightened her shoulders and gave me that worried-ima look. “Hezi is now King Hezekiah. You know kings take many wives to build a legacy. Even King David had multiple wives—and concubines.”
Her words came crashing into my already wounded heart. “I hadn’t even considered Hezi marrying other women. He’s always admired the marriage commitments of his great-saba Uzziah and saba Jotham. They remained faithful to one wife their whole lives.”
The doves returned to their dovecote, and I felt their departure like the loss of a woolen blanket on a winter’s night. I waited for Yaira to speak because I was tired of talking. Tired of thinking.
Keeping her focus on the dovecote, Yaira spoke into the breaking dawn. “If Hezi strays from Yahweh’s righteous path and follows in Ahaz’s footsteps, can you refuse to be his queen? Or must you fulfill the vision Yahweh showed Master and Mistress regardless of Hezi’s commitment to Yahweh?”
The questions stole my breath. Hezi following in King Ahaz’s path? I couldn’t imagine it. If he defiled himself with pagan priestesses, I couldn’t marry him. On the other hand, how could I refuse him when Yahweh had decreed our union through the visions of both Abba and Ima? I dropped my head in my hands and groaned. “Maybe I’ll go hide with the prophets for a while.” Realizing how I might have sounded, I looked up and saw Yaira’s eyes filling with tears. I wrapped her in a crushing hug. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean—”
“I know,” she said, releasing me and swiping at tears. “Sometimes I wish to return to Micah’s quiet, hidden world, but out here I experience joy more deeply because I’ve known sadness. And I treasure the bonds of family because I’ve been lonely. The caves taught me to embrace the darkness so I could fully appreciate the light.”
I hugged her again, remembering last month’s Sabbath celebration when Jashub and Hallel announced the coming of their first child. Yaira had smiled and rejoiced with the rest of us, showing no sign of jealousy or regret. But how did she feel every time Jashub and Hallel joined the family for dinner? Each time Hallel accompanied the women to distribute supplies to the poor? “Do you regret coming back to live with Master and Mistress?”
I saw no change in her expression. No sign of regret or forced joy. “Not at all. Yahweh’s purpose for me is to serve wherever I am. When you experienced the nightmares, I was here to serve you, and Yahweh allowed me to witness firsthand your name changing.” Her eyes grew more distant. “When Master and Mistress spoke that prophecy over you, I received a portion of it for myself.” She turned to me, suddenly concerned. “Can I do that—embrace the prophecy for myself when it was intended for you?”
Dear Yaira. I patted her knee. “Well, I don’t know. How did you apply it?”
“Near the end of Master Isaiah’s vision, he said something about Yahweh rejoicing over you as a bridegroom rejoices over a bride.” She ducked her head and fiddled with her hands. “I know the prophecy was meant for you, Zibah, but it felt as if Yahweh was saying the same thing to me. That I could be His bride too.”
My tears came again, this time from gratitude. Thank You, Yahweh, for my friend, and thank You for answering my prayer from years ago—to love her and be near to her. I hugged her like the lifeline she was and nodded. “I’m sure you can be Yahweh’s bride too.”
We wiped our faces, and she stood. “Shall I bring you a bowl of yogurt to break your fast?”
“No thank you,” I said, rolling my mat. “I think I’ll go back to our room and try to rest some.” The lack of sleep had begun to take its toll.
“I’ll check on you later,” she said over her shoulder.
I followed her into the house
. Dinah, Leah, and Ima were already busy in the kitchen, preparing the morning meal.
“Zibah, you should eat something,” Ima called as I passed through.
“I’ll eat when I wake. I’m too tired now.” I continued to my chamber, spread out my mat, and felt every muscle relax as I lay down. Though nothing had changed since the night before, I somehow felt more peaceful. My eyes eased shut with the image of Yaira and myself dressed in bridal robes, standing before a great white throne.
It seemed like only moments passed before I heard sandals slapping the tiled hallway outside our chamber. I squeezed my eyes shut and groaned. “Yaira, I don’t want any yogurt.”
“Hephzibah?” Ima called from the doorway.
I turned to face the wall. “Yes?”
“King Hezekiah is coming to see you this morning.”
King Hezekiah. I would have rather had yogurt. “Tell him I’ve left Judah and will never return.”
She stood over me now. “He will be a guest in our house, and you must receive him.”
I threw off the linen sheet and shot past her into the courtyard, where I found Abba reading a scroll. “Why did you invite Hezi to come here? I never want to see him again.” My doves flew from the dovecote at the commotion.
Dark circles rimmed Abba’s eyes, betraying his sleepless night. He set aside the scroll and stood. “I didn’t invite him, Daughter. He is now the king of Judah and goes wherever he pleases. I received a message from the palace this morning.” He appraised my disheveled appearance. “If you’re going to be presentable, you’d best change your robe and ask Yaira to fix your hair.”
“I refuse to be presentable for a king who will rebuild pagan high places and lie with temple priestesses.”
The gate squeaked, and a familiar voice washed over me. “Would you be presentable for a king who chooses to keep his ima alive at great cost?”
Abba Isaiah bowed immediately. I squeezed my eyes shut and refused to turn around. I was a mess. Eyes undoubtedly swollen from a night’s worth of crying, hair freshly out of bed. Footsteps drew near, and his presence loomed behind me. His breath on my neck smelled of cinnamon. Hezekiah, no. Just leave me now. A sob escaped before I could capture it.
He spun me around and held me tightly. “Isaiah, leave us alone please.”
“I’m sorry, my king. I will not. She’s my only daughter, and I won’t leave her alone with you or any other man.”
“Samuel!” Hezekiah shouted. I jumped but kept my face buried against his chest. His heart was pounding like mine, and his voice was ragged. “Isaiah, my guard will remain in the courtyard as our chaperone. I need to speak with Hephzibah alone.”
Silence. Curiosity overcame dignity, and I popped my head up. Abba waited. “Will you speak with the king alone? It is your choice, Hephzibah.”
I would rather run to my room and hide under the mattress, but that’s what little Ishma would do. I was Hephzibah now, married to Yahweh if never to Hezekiah. “I will speak with him.”
Abba gently pulled me from Hezekiah’s arms and sat me on his stool. He paused a handbreadth from the king’s face. “She can speak with you from there.”
I bowed my head, almost smiling, adoring his protectiveness.
Hezekiah waited until Abba disappeared into the house, and then he knelt before me. “Will you hear what I have to say, or have you already condemned me without knowing the truth?”
The question weakened my defenses.
“When Abba embraced me last night, he threatened Ima’s life if I didn’t agree to whatever undertaking he assigned. I was as surprised—and mortified—as you when he announced my ‘top priority’ to the banquet guests.”
I kept my head bowed but considered his explanation. It made sense from all I knew of King Ahaz’s despicable character. He would threaten his queen and impose an equally vile task on his righteous son. And my best friend would protect his ima. But at what cost? “I’m not sure I know you anymore, King Hezekiah.”
He tipped my chin and captured my gaze for the first time. “I’m your Hezi, and from what Isaiah tells me”—he wiped my tears with his thumbs—“you are Yahweh’s delight, and mine, Hephzibah.”
I looked away, mortified that he knew of the prophecy. How foolish I must have seemed to him last night, dressed in a fine silk robe, jewels braided into my hair. He couldn’t know that Isaiah’s household and the prophets we fed had skimped on meals for months to purchase those things. And for what? So I could impress a prince who became a king who will rebuild high places and—
“Zibah.” Startled at his use of my new name, I found him smiling. “Isaiah said I could call you Zibah. I like it. It suits you.” He scooted closer, leaning his elbow on one knee so our noses nearly touched. “For you are indeed my delight. You have given me life since the moment I saw your face hovering over mine in the stretcher. With Yahweh as my witness, I will remain faithful to you, Hephzibah—as my saba Jotham was faithful to his wife and great-saba Uzziah to his. I want you and only you.”
Was he saying what I thought he was saying? One wife? Forever? My heart pounded so hard, I thought it might leap from my chest. I wanted to respond, but I didn’t trust my voice.
He sobered and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “I must leave in a week, but I will see you every day while I’m in Jerusalem. When I’m traveling, I’ll send messengers to assure you of my love and faithfulness.” He kissed the tip of my nose, and Samuel cleared his throat. Hezekiah grinned. “I fear Samuel is a stricter chaperone than Master Isaiah.”
Finally, heart lighter, I could grin with him. “The master wasn’t as strict as my abba is now.”
We laughed together, the sound summoning Abba Isaiah to the doorway. “It appears things are right again.” Brow furrowed, he entered the courtyard without an invitation. “I’d like to hear how it can be so.”
Hezekiah lifted my hand to his forehead, a sign of loyalty and honor. “If you’ll excuse your abba and me, Zibah, we must come to terms on a somewhat unconventional betrothal.”
22
Hope deferred makes the heart sick,
but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.
—Proverbs 13:12
On most days, I loved teaching Abba’s younger students while he and Shebna focused on the older ones. Today, however, was not one of those days.
“Samson, stop drawing on Jalon! Boys, back on your cushions.” If my hair weren’t under my head covering, I might pull it all out.
“Enough!” Under Abba’s fiery stare my rowdy students melted like goat cheese in the summer sun. “Are you ready to listen to Lady Zibah, or must I bring out the rod of discipline?”
Samson was first to raise his hand. He was five. “Can we use the rod to play swords?”
“No,” Abba said, admirably remaining stern. “You may play with sticks at home. In class you will play with words—using them to read and write.”
Abba turned to me and removed a small scroll from his pocket. Keeping his voice low, he said, “Why don’t you take a break and go home to read your letter.” Hezekiah’s seal gleamed in gold wax.
I hugged him, squealed, and rushed out the door. Ima had taught me long ago not to run. Perhaps that was why God granted me long legs—so I could move quickly. In no time, I was home, the squeaky gate announcing my arrival. Ima met me in the courtyard, wiping flour from her hands. “Hallel is here to help make bread for this afternoon’s deliveries.” She frowned a little. “You’re home early. Are you well?” I waved the scroll in my hand, and her face lit up. “That boy is faithful. Do you want to share his news with Queen Abijah, or shall I go alone for my visit this morning?”
“Let me read the letter first, and then I’ll tell you if there’s anything I want to share.”
Hezi had informed his ima of our betrothal before leaving for the construction tour of Judean fortress cities, but he didn’t tell her that King Ahaz had threatened her life. The news of our betrothal had been difficult enough for her.
S
ince Hezi’s departure, the queen occasionally invited me to visit with Ima and sometimes gave me gifts. I once received an embroidered belt, stitched by her own hands. It was lovely, and I treasured it. I also received a plate of moldy figs. Ima told me not to read too much into it. “Abijah has always run hot and cold, dear, but if you remain steady, she comes around.”
King Ahaz kept news of military progress from Queen Abijah as part of her torture, so the news I shared from Hezi’s letters was like water in a desert to her. She seemed genuinely appreciative, and I kept our visits short. Perhaps someday we might actually enjoy each other’s company. Someday.
I hurried to my chamber and sat on my mat, leaning against the wall. My fingers ran over the golden wax, imprinted with Hezi’s seal. Then I broke it and devoured the words like a starving beggar:
From Hezekiah ben Ahaz, Co-Regent of Judah, Commander of the 7th Regiment, Beloved of Hephzibah.
I miss you every day, my love. The sun rises, and I survive only because you see the same sun. The stars I count on sleepless nights are the same stars that guard your sleep…
His letters both filled me and made my emptiness unbearable. I pressed the scroll to my chest; the ache so deep, I thought I might die. How long, Oh Lord, how long must we wait?
“Zibah?” Ima’s voice made me jump, which startled her too. We both laughed. She looked at the scroll still clutched to my chest and sat down beside me. “Waiting is the hardest part of any betrothal, my dear.” Hugging me tight, she laid her head on my shoulder. “I think it would be nice for you and Queen Abijah to spend some time alone together today.”
My heart leapt into my throat. “I don’t know. She really doesn’t like—”
“You’re about to marry her son, Zibah, and then you’ll face Queen Abijah every day of your life.” She searched my eyes and spoke gently. “You must learn to survive there, as Abbi has. She wields great power as King Ahaz’s first wife because she bore him three sons.” Her eyes grew softer. “Ahaz loved her once. My friend hasn’t always been so hard to love.”
