by Lynn Austin
Hezekiah spoke his wedding vows without paying attention to them. He wished the day was over, but he knew it was just beginning.
After saying their vows, he and his new bride would return to the palace to preside over the lavish wedding banquet that Ahaz had ordered.
The feasting and drinking lasted all evening and far into the night.
Long before the moon rose the king was drunk, his bellowing laughter heard in every corner of the banquet hall. He could scarcely walk without help, and his eyes were glazed and bleary as he made the rounds of his guests. His behavior disgusted Hezekiah, and he barely touched his own wine. He managed to avoid his father for most of the evening, but close to midnight Ahaz staggered up to him and pulled him aside.
“I think you’ll enjoy my delightful little gift, tonight. Picked her out for you myself. Delicate little child, isn’t she?”
Suppressed anger and hatred surged through Hezekiah. He didn’t want to accept any gift from Ahaz, and if his father had personally chosen Hephzibah, then he didn’t want her. As Hezekiah struggled against the urge to lash out, his father said, “Don’t wear yourself out too much, because I’ve decided to send you to Tyre with your new father-in-law when your wedding week is over.”
At that moment Hezekiah hated Ahaz more than he thought possible. Even more, he hated his own helplessness and the power his father held over his life. He was about to tell Ahaz to keep his gift and his worthless trip when Shebna gripped his arm, squeezing it until Hezekiah winced in pain.
“Your son is speechless with gratitude, Your Majesty,” Shebna said smoothly. “I thank you on his behalf.”
Hezekiah silently willed Ahaz to leave before he lost control, but instead his father inched closer, nudging him like a conspirator. “But maybe you won’t want to go away and leave her when the week’s over. Such a pretty little child. I should have kept her as my own concubine.”
Another rush of anger swept through Hezekiah. He was about to tell Ahaz he could take back his gift, when Shebna gripped his arm again and spoke before Hezekiah could.
“Thank you for your generosity in giving away such a lovely woman. Will you excuse your son now? There is something he needs to attend to.”
“Very well. He’s excused.”
Hezekiah pushed his way through the crowd and out to the palace courtyard, where the chilly evening air would cool his fury.
For Hephzibah, the long day of wedding festivities seemed endless as she waited for Hezekiah to take her away to their bridal chamber. There were dancers and music and unending courses of food, then a rambling speech by King Ahaz that seemed to honor her father. It was followed by more music, more dancing, more food. The opulence of the palace dazzled her; the attention lavished on her by everyone except her husband overwhelmed her. She had been in such a state of excitement all day that she felt exhausted.
But suddenly Hezekiah appeared beside her and reached for her hand, drawing her to her feet. The room fell still for the space of a heartbeat when the wedding guests saw them, then the hall rang with clapping and cheering. Her face grew warm, and she was grateful for the veil.
Hezekiah stared straight ahead as he led her away from the din, up the stairs, through the maze of hallways. She felt the pressure of his hand on her arm but had no sensation of her feet touching the floor. At last he led her inside their wedding chamber and closed the door. The sound of her own heart pounding in her ears drowned out the noise of the wedding feast below.
Neither of them spoke as Hezekiah unfastened her veil to see her for the first time. She hoped her father was right, that he would find her beautiful. But as he studied her face, she saw an unspoken question in his eyes. He frowned as if deep in thought, then his brows arched in surprise.
“Is your father paid so poorly that you have to fetch the water every day?” he asked.
Hephzibah’s heart stood still. She had never considered that he might remember her or recognize her from that day. But he had—and she didn’t know what to say. The marriage wouldn’t be official until it was consummated. He could still change his mind. She began to shiver as he stared at her, waiting for her answer.
“No, he isn’t poorly paid, my lord,” she said.
“I didn’t think so. Then maybe you can explain why you were standing by the guard tower several months ago with a jug of water in your hands. Or am I mistaken?”
“No, my lord. You’re not mistaken.”
Hephzibah’s heart pounded so loudly she was certain he could hear it. Would he annul their marriage and expose her shame before the entire wedding party? She felt a cry of despair rising from deep inside her, but she held it back along with her tears. She looked down, afraid to face him and see rejection on his face, but he put his hand under her chin and gently lifted her head until she had to look at him again.
“You must have had a very good reason to venture out unescorted like that.”
Hephzibah saw no anger in his eyes, only curiosity as he waited for her explanation. Her words tumbled out in a rush. “When my father told me I would be married to a prince I was terrified. I didn’t know what you looked like, and so I had to find out before it was too late because I was so afraid that you’d look like your—”
She stopped, horrified at what she had almost said.
“Like my father?” he finished for her.
Hephzibah felt the blood rush to her face and knew it betrayed her guilt. She had committed a grave mistake. How many times had Abba scolded her for being outspoken? How many times had he said it was unladylike? What would happen to her now for insulting the king?
The silence between them seemed endless. Then Hezekiah laughed out loud. It was the most welcome sound Hephzibah ever heard. Still, she knew she must apologize.
“I-I’m sorry, my lord. I didn’t mean to say it. I didn’t mean to insult the king.”
He smiled, dismissing her protests with a shake of his head. “I like your honesty, Hephzibah. It’s very refreshing. But tell me, now that you’ve seen me—do you think I resemble my father?”
He stood before her with his hands on his hips, smiling broadly as he waited for her appraisal. He was so handsome that Hephzibah’s chest tightened until each breath hurt.
“No, my lord. You don’t resemble the king.”
“I see. And what if you’d gone to the guard tower that day and discovered a resemblance? Would it have made a difference to you?”
Hephzibah panicked. She could see no way to answer his question without insulting either Hezekiah or his father. She groped for words, aware that she had to say something.
“I did a very foolish thing, my lord. I never should have left my father’s house. Thank you for rescuing me.”
His smile faded, and his eyes grew serious once again. “I’m sorry, Hephzibah. It wasn’t fair of me to put you on the spot like that. It’s just that I was curious to know what would motivate a beautiful young woman like you to take such a risk. I suppose I was vain enough to believe that any woman in the nation would be honored to marry a prince, no matter what he looked like.”
“Oh yes, my lord! It’s true! Most women would!”
“But not you?” His smile returned, and she managed to smile back weakly.
“I would marry whomever Abba arranged for me, my lord.” And as difficult as it was to take her gaze off him, Hephzibah looked down at her feet again.
“Your honesty is refreshing, Hephzibah, and so is your daring, although I think your father would be outraged if he ever found out about it.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“And I hope you won’t be fetching water any more now that you’re a married woman?”
She felt a glimmer of hope and looked up at him again. “I promise, my lord.”
He reached for her, drawing her into his embrace. The top of her head barely reached his chin. She felt the hard strength in his arms, the warmth of his body, and she clung to him, unable to believe it was real, that her prayers had been answered. Then, still holdi
ng her close, Hezekiah gave a heavy sigh.
“I guess a nobleman’s daughter has a lot in common with a king’s son. Neither one of us has anything to say about who we will marry.”
Hephzibah’s panic returned as she puzzled over his words. Was he unhappy about his father’s choice? Was there someone else he had wished to marry instead? She longed for the day when she would understand him completely and would be able to read his heart in his eyes. She would learn what each sigh and gesture meant, understand his half-spoken thoughts, and communicate with him without words as her parents often did. More than anything else, Hephzibah longed to be truly his wife, his lover, his friend.
His beard brushed her cheek as he bent to kiss her for the first time. And as she kissed him in return, Hephzibah prayed to the god-dess Asherah that she would win Hezekiah’s complete devotion, his trust, his undivided love.
But when Hezekiah left the bridal chamber after their week together, he didn’t return to Hephzibah again.
16
KING AHAZ SLOUCHED ON his throne, browsing through a pile of documents. Uriah said they required only his seal to levy more taxes to meet the Assyrian tribute demands, but they were written in such heavy official language that Ahaz couldn’t make sense of them. The stiff, tightly rolled parchment curled in his hands, exhausting his limited patience. He finally tossed the scrolls onto the table beside his throne.
The tedious morning routine of signing documents and listening to petitions bored Ahaz. He sipped his wine and allowed his mind to wander to the more pleasurable activities he had arranged for later in the day.
A small commotion near the door to his throne room interrupted his thoughts. He looked up to see Uriah arguing with one of the chamberlains. Ahaz smiled. A good quarrel always made an interesting diversion.
“Tell Uriah and the chamberlain to come here,” he told his servant. He drained his wineglass as the arguing men approached and bowed before him.
“What’s the problem, Uriah?” he asked.
“There’s no problem, Your Majesty. I’ve given the chamberlain my decision, and he has defied me.” The chamberlain huffed in protest but Uriah ignored him. “I was about to summon another chamberlain—that’s all. I’m sorry if we disturbed you. We’ll continue our discussion outside.” Uriah seemed anxious to leave. He bowed and slowly backed away as if he had something to hide.
“Just a minute. Why did you defy my palace administrator?” Ahaz asked the chamberlain. The man glanced uncertainly at Uriah, then back at the king.
“I was trying to deliver a message to you, Your Majesty, but Uriah wouldn’t let me.”
“That’s because all messages and petitions must be cleared through me first,” Uriah said angrily.
“But that’s exactly the problem,” the chamberlain insisted. “They won’t give the message to you. They asked to speak directly to the king, and unless you let them, we’ll never find out what they want.”
Uriah glared at the chamberlain, as if demanding his silence. The priest was hiding something, Ahaz was certain of that. He sat up, no longer bored.
“Who wants to see me? Tell me what’s going on,” he ordered.
“Your Majesty, envoys have arrived in Jerusalem from the northern kingdom of Israel,” the chamberlain explained. “They’ve requested an audience with you to present a petition from their king.”
“There can be no audience with King Ahaz unless they explain their petition to me first,” Uriah interrupted. “That’s standard diplomatic courtesy.”
Ahaz’s interest grew. He hadn’t received a foreign emissary in many years, except from Assyria—and they came each year only to collect the annual tribute payments. He shifted in his seat with excitement, then leaned forward to announce his decision.
“Bring the envoys to me. Tell them I’ll hear their petition.”
“No, Your Majesty, wait,” Uriah pleaded. “We need to take our time and think through all the implications of this. I advise you to postpone a hearing of their petition until tomorrow. Take time to consider—”
“I don’t want to wait. I want to know why they’ve come.”
“But receiving diplomats from another nation is a very serious decision, Your Majesty. If word reaches Assyria that we received them, they could interpret it as an act of rebellion. They might think we’re plotting to form an alliance with Israel.”
“That’s ridiculous. I want to know why they’ve come, and I want to know now.” He waved Uriah away and nodded to the chamberlain. “Bring them here.”
“Wait!” Uriah grabbed the chamberlain’s arm to prevent him from leaving. “Your Majesty, I must advise you that the Assyrians—” “I know what you’ve advised. You just told me. And your advice is nonsense. Besides, Emperor Tiglath-Pileser is no longer a threat to us because he’s dead.”
News of the Assyrian emperor’s death had reached Ahaz a month ago. He had lived in mortal fear of the man for years, never forgetting the emperor’s brutality and ruthlessness or how he had tortured the leaders of Damascus. But at last Ahaz was free from his fear. The monarch who haunted his dreams was dead.
“Yes, he’s dead, Your Majesty. But that’s precisely why we need to be even more cautious,” Uriah insisted. “His death doesn’t mean that we’re no longer an Assyrian vassal. In fact, the emperor’s successor will probably act swiftly to quench any fires of rebellion that flare up in order to confirm his authority.”
“My mind is made up,” Ahaz said. “I will receive the envoy right now.”
Uriah’s shoulders sagged in defeat. He released the chamberlain and took his seat beside Ahaz. “I hope this doesn’t end in disaster,” he mumbled.
The chamberlain returned a short time later, followed by King Hoshea’s emissaries and a dozen slaves bearing gifts for Ahaz. They paraded into the carpeted throne room and bowed low before him, giving Ahaz a feeling of power and authority he hadn’t experienced for a long time. He remembered the humiliation he had suffered when he’d been forced to bow before the Assyrian monarch, and he silently vowed that he would never bow to any man again.
“Your Majesty, King Ahaz ben Jotham, Great and Mighty King of Judah, we are your humble servants.” They bowed again, touching their foreheads to the floor. Ahaz allowed them to remain in that posture for several moments before stretching out his scepter to acknowledge their obeisance.
“You may rise and state your petition.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” the leading delegate said. “We bear gifts and a message from our lord, King Hoshea of Israel.”
“The last emissaries from Israel were soldiers who besieged my city,” Ahaz reminded them. “I’m pleased to see that your new king has decided to treat me with respect. State your petition.”
“Your Majesty, our lord King Hoshea would like to meet with your representatives at a conference in Samaria. He wishes to discuss a united approach in our relations with the new Assyrian monarch, Shalmaneser.”
Uriah leaped from his chair. “Do you know what you’re proposing? Has your king gone insane?” He turned to Ahaz, pleading urgently. “Your Majesty, you must send them away at once to let it be known that Judah would never consider joining such a conspiracy.
The Assyrians have spies everywhere!”
“Oh, sit down,” Ahaz said, waving him aside. “When I want your advice I’ll ask for it. You may continue,” he told the envoy.
“As you know, the Assyrians annexed our northern-most territories as provinces fourteen years ago. But lately they’ve begun raiding many of our border towns and villages, carrying our people away as captives and plundering our land. This is in addition to their heavy tribute demands. Now that Tiglath-Pileser is dead, our king has decided to throw off the heavy Assyrian yoke that has crippled us for so long. He’s sending envoys to the Egyptian pharaoh, as well, asking him to join with us in putting an end to Assyrian domination.”
Uriah sprang from his seat again to confront the Israeli representative. “Has your king forgotten what happe
ned the last time your nation tried to form an alliance against Assyria?” He turned to Ahaz. “Your Majesty, please. You saw what happened to Damascus. Do you want to risk the same punishment for Jerusalem?”
Once again, Ahaz recalled the torture and devastation he had witnessed. But his old adversary was dead. He had no reason to fear. The prospect of meeting with the Egyptian pharaoh and the kings of other nations excited him. It was time he took his place as a world leader again.
“Your petition is very interesting,” he told the emissary. “I will need some time to consider it.”
“But there’s nothing to consider!” Uriah said. “They’re proposing treason and suicide! Please, you must stop this discussion before it goes too far—” “Enough!” Ahaz silenced him with a shout. “I’ll do whatever I please. As I was saying,” he told the envoy in a calm voice, “you will accept my hospitality as royal guests and dine with me tomorrow night. I will have an answer for King Hoshea by then. You are dismissed.” Ahaz watched as they paraded from the throne room, leaving their gifts spread at his feet. Then he turned to Uriah who sat stiffly beside him. “I want you to assemble the men who took part in my trade delegation to Tyre and have them join me for dinner tonight. We’ll send them to Samaria with this delegation. Make sure you include my son, Hezekiah. He’ll be my personal representative. I shall return to my chambers now.”
Ahaz was aware of Uriah following him across the courtyard, his face creased with frustration, even despair. His distress gave Ahaz a rare feeling of power over the intimidating priest, and he liked the feeling. He hoped that Uriah would plead with him further so he would have the pleasure of refusing him again. When Ahaz reached his chambers, Uriah granted his wish.
