Isaiah's Daughter

by Mesu Andrews

  I wondered then how much of Queen Abijah had been surrendered to survive the harem and how much had been broken by the king. The thought of living in a chamber on the second floor of the palace—the hall of the king’s family—sent a shiver of terror through me. “Why can’t I stay in Hezi’s chamber?”

  She offered a patient smile. “It simply isn’t done, Zibah. A king must have privacy for meetings at any hour, day or night. His time is not his own.”

  I’d always assumed King Ahaz and Queen Abijah had separate chambers because they hated each other. “I can’t live in the harem, Ima. Queen Abijah will destroy me.”

  Ima nodded. “If you let her.”

  Swallowing hard, I realized Ima was teaching my first lesson on royal marriage. “How do I protect myself?”

  “Take your letter from Hezi today and read the portions that his ima would appreciate.”

  My cheeks warmed. “I’m not sure there’s much she’d appreciate. If she didn’t approve of me as Hezi’s learning companion, she most certainly won’t approve of the love he shares in his letters.”

  “Then take the letter and tell her how much you love her son. Find something she can share about him that makes her the expert. Hallel lets me think I still know how to cook Jashub’s favorite meals. Imas likes to think they’re experts on their children.”

  “You are the expert on your children.” I kissed her cheek and tucked the scroll into my belt. “Should I change into my nice robe before I go?”

  Ima looked at me from beneath raised brows. “Zibah, have you ever seen Queen Abijah without pearls, braids, kohl on her eyes, and red ochre on her cheeks? Of course, while in the harem you must always look your best.”

  My stomach churned as I walked through the main room where the women were baking bread. I waved my greeting, passed through to our dressing chamber, and changed quickly, making sure Hezi’s letter remained safely in my belt. My nerves grew more ragged with each step to the palace. I carefully considered which parts of the letter to read. Most of it was too personal. But I could ask Queen Abijah questions about Hezi. That would be easier. What were his fears as a child? What were his favorite foods? I already knew but I could pretend ignorance.

  Too soon, I was standing at Queen Abijah’s chamber door facing two guards I didn’t recognize. “Please announce to Queen Abijah that Lady Hephzibah has come to visit with news of her son.”

  “The queen isn’t accepting visitors today.” The guard stared straight ahead without any recognition of my name.

  I eyed his sword, his spear, his dagger, as well as his round belly and sagging jowls. The other guard looked equally slovenly, and my normal fear was replaced by revulsion. “I assure you the queen will be anxious to hear what I have to say.” Stepping forward to pound on the door, I nearly succeeded, but the guard grabbed my arm. I let out a screech. “Don’t touch me!”

  The two guards looked at each other and laughed. “Be on your way, woman.”

  Fury overcame fear, and I refused to be cowed. I shouted, “Queen Abijah, I have news of your son!”

  The guard grabbed me, clamped his hand over my mouth, and shoved me toward the stairway. Several doors on the hallway opened. Two of the king’s younger wives peeked out. Not the way I would have wished to meet them, but this would surely give them something to talk about for weeks.

  Queen Abijah’s door opened, and I heard a servant say, “Let her in.”

  The guard released me, grumbling. I smiled sweetly at him and straightened my robe. “I’ll make sure Queen Abijah knows how kindly I’ve been treated.”

  I stepped inside the darkened chamber and waited at the doorway, giving my eyes time to adjust. Servants scurried away from the queen, who sat on her favorite deep blue couch, clearing away wash basins and towels. She must have slept late and just finished washing.

  “You have news of Hezi?” Queen Abijah’s voice sounded gravelly.

  Her question gave me permission to approach. “Not much news, but a letter at least. Ima sends her apologies, but sent me to visit instead. I hope you’re not disappointed.” I stepped off the crimson carpet and waited behind her.

  No response. I almost turned and left, but I remembered Ima’s words when I predicted Queen Abijah might destroy me. “Don’t let her.” Straightening my shoulders, I walked around the couches to the balcony and threw open the heavy tapestries. Sunlight streamed in, brightening the gloomy room and lifting my spirit.

  I turned to find the queen working a small tapestry in her lap, but she didn’t look up. This was even harder than I expected. Tamping down my annoyance, I made my way to the couch, sat down beside her, and stilled her hands. “Are you all right, my que—”

  I gasped as she turned toward me. She’d been badly beaten again. Her left eye was swollen shut. There were cuts above her brow, across her nose, along her cheekbone, and splitting her lip.

  She snorted and tried to smile. “This is what happens when you try to ‘fix’ the man you marry, Zibah.” Speaking cost her. She gingerly touched the cut on her lip. “Ahaz was charming during the betrothal, even romantic, giving me gifts and sending me scrolls like Hezi sends you. He was a valiant warrior, all muscle and brawn.”

  She focused outside the balcony on a distant nothing. “The match was more than I could have dreamed—the high priest’s daughter marries King Jotham’s crown prince. In the early years, I thought I could love him, but each time he returned from battle, he drank wine more and liked me less.” Tears streamed down her cheeks, dripping into the wounds, but she didn’t try to wipe them. “I thought he’d love me when I gave him sons. I thought I could do more, be more, give more. I tried to be enough to chase away his demons.” For the first time, her eyes met mine. “But now his demons chase me.”

  I didn’t know what to say. “Why did he beat you this time?”

  She choked out a laugh. “It started because he ran out of wine. After the servants brought more, he got drunker and grew angry about a report he received about Hezekiah—which he refused to read aloud. I assume my son has been successful, and it irritates his abba.”

  “Hezi has rebuilt three towns,” I said.

  She smiled and returned her gaze to the balcony. “Yes, well…that would throw Ahaz into a rage. Now I fight back with the only thing that hurts him—his failures and the success of others.”

  “Ima has told you many times not to taunt him.” I covered my mouth, preparing for the queen’s venomous reproof. Who was I to censure a queen?

  Instead, she grinned. “You should have seen King Ahaz’s face when I said he’d soon be forgotten in Hezi’s shadow. I blacked out from his first blow. When I woke, he was ranting about his other wives and sons. I was conscious only long enough to remind him that he’d failed to find the Yahweh prophets. One more blow, and all went dark. I woke up here, on my favorite couch.” She turned to look at me. “It was worth it to see him despairing.”

  I held Hezi’s scroll and sat beside his ima, feeling an overwhelming darkness. How could I reach someone so lost? Then I remembered Abba’s words to her on the day Ahaz dedicated the pagan altar. As long as Yahweh was with us, we always had hope. “Yahweh sees you, my queen. Your suffering is not hidden from His eyes.”

  Her cynical snort broke my heart. “It’s easy to say when you’re grasping a scroll declaring my son’s love for you, little Ishma. You were a captive and will soon become queen. Why wouldn’t you believe that Yahweh loves you?” She resumed work on her tapestry. “I needed Yahweh’s help years ago, when I thought my husband might still love me. When my firstborn stood before Molek’s fire. Now, Hezi is co-regent and has the wits to wage his own war with King Ahaz. Mattaniah, on the other hand, hasn’t the wits for Ahaz to feel threatened, but my youngest will at least command his own regiment.” She turned, tilted her head, and cupped my cheek. “Both my sons are old enough to defend themselves and hate their abba freely.”

  I felt as if I’d swallowed a rock. Her quiet resignation was more terrifying than the fea
r that had plagued her all these years. I kissed Queen Abijah’s cheek. “I’ll come back tomorrow to read the scroll when you’re feeling better.”

  Queen Abijah’s chamber doors burst open and slammed against the walls. “I see you have a visitor, Abbi. I heard the voice of an angel from the hallway.” King Ahaz weaved across the crimson carpet, his robe disheveled, his hair a tangled mess. “Yes, Isaiah’s daughter. It’s been over a year since I saw you at the banquet, but I have dreamed of your beauty every night since.”

  I shot off the couch like a stone from a sling. The queen struggled to stand as well, but it was obvious her ribs had been broken. I reached for her to lend support as the king sidled up beside me.

  He smelled of sour wine and stale sweat. “I see you have a scroll in your hand.” He grabbed it before I could stop him. “Ah, my son’s seal.” He began reading aloud: “I miss you every day, my love. The sun rises, and I survive only because we see the same sun. The stars I count on sleepless nights are the same stars that guard your sleep.”

  The king threw the scroll to the floor and stepped to within a handbreadth from me. “My son writes with flowery words like a prophet when he speaks of you, Isaiah’s daughter. Perhaps if I taste of your forbidden fruit, I would speak like a prophet too.” He grabbed my waist and pulled me against him.

  “No! Noooo!” I screamed, struggling and beating his chest. But he was too strong.

  He dragged me under one arm toward the queen’s bedchamber as I thrashed. “That’s right, little Zibah. You can tell my son it was all my fault, and he’ll probably believe you.”

  “Ahh! No!”

  He threw me on the bed, and I tried to crawl away, but he grabbed my leg and dragged me back.

  I heard my robe tear and felt the cold air on my body. “No!”

  And then thud!

  I lay curled in a ball on the bed, eyes closed, weeping. And alone. This is a dream. Just another bad dream.

  “Get up, my king.” A man’s husky voice shattered my illusion.

  I opened my eyes and covered myself. One of the queen’s regular chamber guards—a man I recognized—stood over King Ahaz, holding a bloody knife.

  The king stood, gripping his right shoulder. “You’re a dead man,” he said to the guard.

  The man stepped forward, forcing the king back a step. “And you could have been had I not been loyal enough to spare you.”

  “You have eaten your last meal.” King Ahaz stormed out of the chamber and screamed for the two guards at the door. “Execute that traitor, and send the physician to my chamber.”

  Queen Abijah covered me with her fine sheets and turned to the man who’d saved me. “Where have you been and how did you know to come now?”

  The guard’s eyes lingered on the queen’s face, her form. “Heber and I tried to help you this morning. The king’s guards held us at the tips of their swords while King Ahaz beat you and then…” He touched her bruised cheek. “I’m sorry. He reassigned us to the throne room, but I came as soon as I could. Then I heard screaming.” He dropped his hand and stared at his sandals. “I thought he was killing you.”

  She glanced at me, shame coloring her cheeks, and then back at the man who saved me. “You’ve been a loyal friend, Gedor.”

  He pressed the hilt of his dagger into her hand and whispered, “Keep it. Use it.”

  Six royal guards rushed into the chamber and separated them. The queen hid the dagger behind her back as the guards appraised the room before leading their comrade to execution. Would they really kill Gedor for stopping pure evil?

  Queen Abijah sat beside me, silent. Her glare said she blamed me for what happened to her guard. “You must never return to the palace. Not with Aya. Not with Hezi. Never again—until King Ahaz is dead.”

  My mind whirring, I could barely comprehend her words. “Do you mean to punish me, or do you think King Ahaz would try this again?” I could still smell his fetid breath on my skin.

  The queen scoffed and looked away. “How can you be so naive? King Ahaz’s pride has been damaged, even more than his shoulder. He is like a wounded animal, unpredictable and more dangerous than ever.”

  I would stay as far away from the palace as possible. Queen Abijah trembled alongside me, shaking the bed. “What about you?” I asked.

  “King Ahaz will kill my guard because he knows it will hurt me more than another beating. And those beasts out there?” She gestured toward the door with a flutter of her hand. “They are the new guards reassigned to my chamber because mine had become too protective.” She turned her face away. “Did Yahweh see what just happened to us, Zibah? Does He love you more than my loyal guard? Is that why he’ll die and you’ll live?”

  I thought she was angry with me, but she reached for me and wept, deep racking sobs. “Gedor showed me kindness. He showed you kindness. Why must good people suffer for the sins of the wicked?”

  We clung to each other in this chamber of questions. My trembling eased as I prayed; hers didn’t. “I don’t understand everything either, my queen. All I know is the peace I feel when I remember Yahweh is near and He is constant.”

  I felt her stiffen. She sniffed and pulled away. The pretend smile reappeared as she stood, still wincing at her broken ribs. “It’s settled then, Zibah. You believe Yahweh loves you, and I will keep sewing my tapestry until I can stand it no longer.”

  Frightened by her facade, I placed a hand on her arm. “What will you do when you can’t bear your life any longer?”

  Her smile disappeared. “Then I will finish what my guard was too cowardly to do.”

  23

  Honor your father and your mother, so that you may live long in the land the LORD your God is giving you.

  —Exodus 20:12

  Hezi rolled his scroll neatly and tied it with a strip of leather. He held the gold-dusted slab of wax over the lamp’s flame and let a few drops fall onto the seam of the scroll, quickly pressing the stone emblem he wore around his neck into the soft wax.

  Too tired to call for a messenger tonight, he decided he would send one of his trusted men to Zibah with the newest missive tomorrow. His regiment accompanied him to every Judean fortress town and helped rebuild walls and reinforce garrisons. Hezi’s goal was always to encourage and improve, so he and his men never took food or supplies from the town they’d come to serve. He and his soldiers camped outside the city walls, hunted game for food, and sourced water from springs in the surrounding hills or desert. So far, they’d been well received by every city—though Hezi refused to worship in their pagan temples. But even their overwhelming success couldn’t fill the void in his heart.

  He set the scroll aside, missing Zibah so much his chest ached.

  The shuffle of sandals outside his tent set the hairs on the back of his neck at attention. Hezi doused the flame with his fingers, reached for his dagger, and pressed his back against the tent beside the flap. Waiting. Something fell in the dirt at his threshold, and retreating footsteps signaled a coward’s retreat.

  Dagger still in hand, Hezi cautiously peered out the flap. The camp was sleeping. Whoever dropped the package was likely a skilled soldier able to slip past his guards on the perimeter.

  He bent to retrieve a sackcloth bundle tied with a purple ribbon like the one Zibah had given him. His heart skipped a beat, and he looked around the camp again. Who could have delivered a package from Zibah? He untied the ribbon and tucked it in his belt. The sackcloth fell open, revealing the familiar cloth of Zibah’s finest robe. A satisfied smile crept across his lips. He grasped the garment at the shoulders and shook it out in the moonlight. A scrap of parchment fell at his feet, but it was the robe that stole his breath.

  Torn from neck to waist.

  A groan lodged in his throat. He picked up the parchment and read the message scrawled on it: Return to Jerusalem before King Ahaz defiles your bride.

  He stared at the writing for several heartbeats until a guttural moan escaped. He covered his mouth with his fist to stop the
sound, biting down on his knuckles until the taste of blood brought him to his senses.

  “Hezi?” Eliakim laid a hand on his shoulder, and Hezi whirled on him.

  “Get me a dromedary. I’m leaving for Jerusalem—now.”

  “You can’t ride a camel through the mountains in the dark, Hez. Tell me what’s happened.” He looked at the robe and reached for it. “Is that Zibah’s?”

  Hezi yanked it away and stuffed the piece of parchment into his belt. “I leave at first light. Tell the men to continue our work here at Azekah. I’ll return as soon as possible.”

  Eliakim studied him. “You’re not going to tell me what’s going on?”

  The boulder in Hezi’s throat kept him from speaking. He shook his head and retreated into his tent. Darkness nearly suffocated him. His mind wandered to places his heart couldn’t bear. When he finally heard the plodding of camel’s hooves, he leapt from his mat and met Eliakim outside. The eastern sky showed the first gray hints of a new day.

  His best friend hoisted him into the saddle. “I don’t know what’s wrong, but I do know Yahweh has a good plan for you, Hez. Remember Whom you serve. Remember Judah’s future rests on your shoulders.” He slapped the camel’s hindquarters and waved good-bye.

  The sun rose quickly over the horizon, and the camel’s long legs flew over the rugged terrain. He should make Jerusalem just after midday—in time to discover who sent the robe and parchment and confront Abba.

  The cool morning air helped clear his head. If Abba actually attacked her, how many people knew? And of those who knew, who actually had access to Zibah’s torn robe? The list grew smaller with each question. When he reached Jerusalem’s Horse Gate, he dismounted and ran straight to Isaiah’s house.

  Mistress Aya sat huddled in the courtyard with her two serving maids. She looked up, startled, when he pushed open the squeaky gate.

  “King Hezekiah?” She stood and bowed deeply. “Isaiah is in class. Zibah and Yaira are making their deliveries in the southern city.”