by Mesu Andrews
“How can I know if Yahweh has given Keilah to me? Do I have your permission to at least pursue a friendship? To speak with her freely as I enjoy speaking with Lady Jehosheba, Lady Zibiah, and Prince Hazi?”
“Surely you understand that it’s not the same, Nathanael. Keilah is a widow, and you are unmarried. Decorum dictates certain precautions be taken—”
“And I would never place Keilah or myself in a compromising position.” His jaw was set, his gaze determined.
Jehoiada returned his stare, testing the man’s mettle. His usually compliant second priest didn’t budge. Unable to hide a grin, Jehoiada held up his hands in surrender. “Yes, my friend. You have my permission to pursue a friendship with Keilah, but please be careful. I’d hate to see you or Keilah get hurt by any misunderstandings.”
Nathanael’s relieved smile was stolen by heavy pounding on his door. Before he could answer, Zabad burst in. “Hurry, we have news.” He was gone as quickly as he’d come.
Jehoiada’s heart fell at the despair he’d glimpsed on Zabad’s face. He turned to Nathanael, finding concern etched on his features too. Without a word, both men hurried toward Jehoiada’s chamber next door.
Sheba waited for Jehoiada outside their chamber door, knowing he might blame Hazi for her bruised face. Her brother hadn’t spoken a word all the way back to the high priest’s chamber, where he waited now, surrounded by his wife and friends.
Zabad emerged from Nathanael’s chamber. “They’re coming out.”
Sheba braced herself for Jehoiada’s reaction as Zabad hurried past and entered the neighboring chamber. The moment Jehoiada saw her, he gasped and stopped walking.
Clearly struggling for control, he approached slowly and cupped her face. “Are you all right? Who did this?” Before she could answer, his anger rose. “I’ll kill him! Where’s Hazi? He was supposed to pro—”
“Hazi was beaten more severely than me, Jehoiada.” She watched her words hit their mark, compassion softening his angry features. “Not physically beaten, Jehoiada, but Ima made terrible threats, and watchmen had beaten one of his pregnant wives.”
His fury ebbed with a deep sigh. “Where is he? How can we help him?”
This was the man she loved. Protective, yes. But compassionate and caring to the core. “He’s inside our chamber. He hasn’t spoken since we left Ima’s chamber. Perhaps you can reassure him of Yahweh’s power and presence. I believe all he can see right now is Ima’s brutality and the prison of his birthright.”
Jehoiada pulled her into a fierce embrace. “I’ll talk to Hazi, but I must know what happened to you.”
Absorbing her husband’s strength, she let her first tear fall. “Zev and Zabad were separated from us at the door. Hazi resisted Ima’s demands and threats, but Ima had bribed Carites to overpower Hazi and strike me.” She swallowed the panic that rose at the memory. “I’m afraid she’s broken him, Jehoiada.”
After a final squeeze, he kissed her forehead and released her. “Come, let’s talk to your brother.” He opened their door, letting her enter first.
Keilah stood in the far corner, holding Samson in the sling around her waist. Nathanael moved away from her when they entered, joining Zabad and Zev, who stood like sentinels in the center of the room. Tucked behind the guards were Zibiah and Hazi, seated on the embroidered couch. Hazi looked twelve years old, his hair mussed, his cheeks wet with tears. Sheba’s heart shattered at the sight.
Jehoiada nudged past her and the guards, kneeling before the prince but remaining silent.
Hazi lifted his head slowly to address Yahweh’s high priest. “I cannot return to your Temple, Jehoiada—ever. Too many lives are at risk.”
“Hazi, please.” Sheba rushed to Jehoiada’s side, cradling her brother’s hands. “Yahweh is the only way to fight Ima and Jezebel.”
Jehoiada laid his hands on top of Sheba’s, quieting his wife. “Your sister is right, my friend. Only by Yahweh’s strength can we defeat this darkness.”
Hazi gently removed his hands and stood, bringing everyone else to their feet as well. “I learned today that no one can defeat Ima and the Gevirah.” He offered a sad smile to Sheba and then turned to Jehoiada. “Zibiah may attend morning sacrifices and continue her visits with Sheba, but I’ll send Zev to retrieve her. I can’t risk the lives of my other wives and children for a god who refuses to display his power.” He gently but firmly placed his hand on Zibiah’s back. “Come, Wife. We’re expected at the palace.”
“Wait . . . Brother.” Jehoiada grabbed his arm, halting the prince. “Choose Yahweh. You’re a strong leader, and you have the loyalty of the people. Walk in the ways of David and your saba Jehoshaphat. Yahweh will deliver you if you choose Him.”
He pointed at Sheba’s purple cheek. “Where was Yahweh when the Carite hit your wife? When they beat my Tekoan wife who bears my child? I won’t risk those I love for an invisible god.”
He turned to go, and Jehoiada tried to stop him again, but Zev blocked his attempt. “No, my friend. The prince has given you his decision. You must obey.”
Hazi hesitated, head bowed. “I know it’s difficult—and dangerous—for Sheba to continue communication with Ima Thaliah, but if Yahweh worship is to survive in Judah, Sheba must court Ima’s favor. But I can’t help.” He grabbed Zibiah’s elbow and fairly dragged her out of the chamber.
Nathanael rushed to Keilah and Samson, who remained safely tucked in the corner. After a few private whispers, he turned to Jehoiada. “I’ll escort Keilah to the Sur Gate and return to discuss tonight’s twilight service.” Keilah kissed Sheba’s cheek as they left, and Nathanael said over his shoulder, “You’re a brave woman, Sheba. I’m proud to call you my friend.”
As the door clicked shut, Zabad lingered in the chamber awkwardly. Jehoiada ignored him.
Thoroughly focused on his wife, the high priest escorted her to the couch and kissed her bruised cheek. “I can’t bear the thought of someone hurting you, and I don’t care what Hazi says. I can’t willingly send my wife back into the lions’ den.” He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head.
Zabad now stood looming over them. Why was he still here? Sheba wasn’t sure whom she could trust after discovering Ima had bribed Temple guards. Even if Zabad was as trustworthy as an old pair of sandals, she wasn’t comfortable with the chief gatekeeper delving into personal matters.
Surprising the couple, Zabad knelt beside Jehoiada. “If you don’t mind, my lord, I believe I must speak freely as chief keeper of the threshold. I need to know exactly what your wife discussed with the queen.” He lifted an eyebrow at Sheba. “And perhaps Lady Jehosheba should tell you what happened on our way to the palace.”
She’d hoped Zabad would forget about her private meeting with Hazi in Zev’s chambers. “It was nothing, really.” Those words elicited a raised eyebrow from her husband as well, and when she recounted the story—including the part about rendering Hazi breathless, speechless, and possibly childless—both men chuckled, lightening the mood considerably.
Jehoiada brushed her cheek. “All right, my love, are you ready to tell us about your visit with the queen?”
Sheba breathed deeply, bracing herself for the memories and the emotions the account would likely stir, but her husband quieted her with his finger on her lips.
“May I first say that I’m very proud of you? You seem almost stronger after a grueling meeting with the queen of Judah than you’ve been in weeks.” He leaned in and kissed her—right in front of Zabad! “Now tell us how Yahweh made you stronger in the midst of battle.”
Cheeks burning, she wasn’t sure where to start. “Well . . .” The golden tongs lay on the table behind Jehoiada, unseen as yet by Yahweh’s high priest. She reached for them, and his eyes rounded like saucers.
“Did you smuggle those out of the palace?” He cradled them like a precious jewel.
“No, they’re a ‘gift’ from Mattan.” She acknowledged her husband’s raised brow. “I know. The message I was supposed to deli
ver was something about Baal’s high priest showing goodwill, but he actually cursed the tongs and divined some sort of catastrophe originating from within the Temple. Isn’t that ridiculous?”
But Jehoiada didn’t show the skepticism she’d expected. Angst, dread—maybe even fear—crossed his handsome face. He exchanged a glance with Zabad. “I want more guards atop the walls around the inner and outer courts. And double the guards near the entrance to the Holy Place. Obviously these tongs will never again be a sacred instrument before the Lord, but I don’t want to take a chance that—”
“And Ima’s been bribing Temple guards.” Sheba blurted the awful truth. There was no easy way to say it.
Zabad’s face flushed crimson. “I don’t believe it. Did she give you names?” Without waiting for her answer, he turned to Jehoiada. “I’ll kill them myself if I find out who they are.”
Jehoiada steadied his breathing, noticeably working to control his temper. “Hazi told me there were spies in the Temple, but he was supposed to remove them. We can’t rely on help from him regardless. Athaliah tried to bribe a guard before, but the loyalty on Temple grounds prevailed. How did she succeed this time?” His voice grew louder, demanding.
“It’s my fault her bribery succeeded this time.” Her throat nearly closed, her voice a whisper, and her inner trembling had returned. “Because I’m weak, you had to care for me and neglect your duties. Your absence caused resentment among the priests and Levites, making them more willing to betray you.”
“They’re not betraying me, they’re betraying Yahweh!” He bolted to his feet, neck veins bulging, face crimson as he paced the tiny chamber. “Zabad, you will find the traitors and strip them of their duties. Do you hear me?”
Sheba hugged her knees to her chest, rocking on the couch, shaking uncontrollably. “I’m sorry, Jehoiada. I’m so sorry. So sorry.” Though it was barely a whisper, her husband heard and the chief gatekeeper bowed his head. Was even Zabad angry with her?
Jehoiada glanced at her and fell to his knees again. He tried to cradle her cheeks, but she turned away, ashamed. “It’s my fault, Jehoiada. You have every right to be angry with me.”
“I’m not angry with you, Jehosheba.” He tilted her chin to meet his gaze.
When she glimpsed his expression, she saw only love. How? “How can you love me?” The words escaped without permission.
“My love for you is unshakable, and you have nothing for which to be sorry. You didn’t offer bribes. You didn’t make the guards accept them.” He buried his head in her waist and drew her into a ferocious embrace. “I owe you an apology. My anger has always been my downfall.”
Zabad knelt beside them, his head bowed, lips moving without sound. Praying.
The thought comforted Sheba, though she still yearned to hide from the whole world. She was exhausted. Tired of fighting Ima Thaliah, defending Hazi, befriending Zibiah and Keilah. Why couldn’t she simply hide in her bedchamber all day and see only Jehoiada?
Because you’re called to a greater purpose. My purpose.
The unspoken words accosted her. “What did you say?” Her question, spoken aloud, seemed to rouse both Zabad and Jehoiada.
“I said my anger has always been—”
“No, I heard that part. I mean . . .” Sheba glanced from one man to the other, both of whom now shared a puzzled glance. Would they think her insane if she confessed to hearing a voice?
“Are you all right?” Jehoiada sat back on his heels, studying her expression. “Did you hear something?”
Her heart hammered in her chest. Dare she admit it?
Before she could answer, a sweet smile creased her husband’s lips. “Let me tell you a story about the days before Israel had a king. Yahweh spoke in the middle of the night to a little boy named Samuel. The boy thought Eli, the high priest, was calling his name, but after Eli had sent him back to his room several times, he realized that Samuel must have been hearing Yahweh call his name.” Jehoiada reached up to touch her cheek. “I’ll ask you again, Jehosheba. Did you hear something?”
Her heart still thundered, now with wonder rather than fear. “I was feeling overwhelmed and thinking I wanted only to hide in our bedchamber, but I heard a voice say I am called to a greater purpose.”
Jehoiada chuckled, happy tears welling on his lashes. “Indeed, I believe Yahweh has spoken to you.” He kissed her palm and laid it against his cheek, sadness dimming his smile. “We must believe Yahweh’s purpose will prevail—even if you must return to the lions’ den.”
31
LEVITICUS 16:1–2
The LORD spoke to Moses after the death of the two sons of Aaron who died when they approached the LORD. . . . “Tell your brother Aaron that he is not to come whenever he chooses into the Most Holy Place behind the curtain in front of the atonement cover on the ark, or else he will die. For I will appear in the cloud over the atonement cover.”
Jehoiada left the northwest courtyard of the priests, satisfied that the laws for boiling this morning’s offerings were being followed to the letter.
“My lord!” Zabad’s voice rose over the rumble of the inner court, where priests tried to look busy even though sacrifices to Yahweh continued to decline. “It’s past midday, nearly time for central court. I’ll escort you to the palace if you’re ready.”
The chief gatekeeper had proven not only a loyal guardian but also a faithful friend, wise beyond his years. In the two Sabbaths since the meeting with Queen Athaliah, Jehosheba had received only one scroll from her ima, its contents inconsequential. Jehoiada was torn between relief and angst, the royal silence piquing his need for an emergency plan. What if Athaliah attacked the Temple compound? Jehosheba’s insight into palace intrigue was invaluable, but eyes and ears inside the palace were essential to ensure a timely escape if a Temple attack occurred.
“I’m going to kiss my bride, and then we can go.” Jehoiada kept his tone light but communicated more with a raised brow.
Zabad fell in step and kept his voice low. “Does Jehosheba know we’ve tried to contact Obadiah and had no response?”
“Yes, and she still thinks Hazi might change his mind and help us.” Jehoiada’s heart ached. “How do I tell her we can no longer trust the one person who’s always been her champion?”
Zabad offered a reassuring smile. “Princess Jehosheba is learning to recognize a true champion.”
Jehoiada nodded, considering his wife’s growing faith. Yahweh had indeed become her champion, more real to her since her collapse.
“I meant me, of course. I’m the champion.” Zabad puffed his chest and flexed his biceps—then dissolved into laughter. Jehoiada couldn’t help but join him.
The two hurried across the inner court. The summer sun filled the air with the sweet scent of acacia and warmed the white limestone. They stopped outside Jehoiada’s chamber, listening to the happy voices of women’s chatter.
“Seems a shame to interrupt.” Jehoiada winked at his friend.
“Whatever else Prince Hazi proves to be,” Zabad said, “I’m thankful he allowed Princess Zibiah’s continued visits. She and Keilah have been good for Jehosheba.”
Jehoiada nodded his agreement, but he knew the deeper truth. Though his wife spoke fondly of Zibiah and Keilah, she still held back, finding trust elusive. “Why do they want to be my friends?” she’d asked him last night.
Yahweh, let Jehosheba see Your love through the lives of these good friends.
He knocked as he entered. “Shalom, ladies.” The now familiar sight of three women deftly working wool and spindle was made more precious by Jehosheba’s concentrated expression.
Her tongue peeked out the corner of her mouth, and her focus never left the spindle. “Shalom, Husband. I thought you’d be at the palace by now.” She pinched the yarn and coiled it around her extended fingers like Jehoiada had seen the Levites wind flax and wool yarn for their sacred garments.
“You’re becoming quite good at that.”
She giggled—musi
c to his ears. “You sound surprised.” She finally looked up, one eyebrow raised.
Zibiah and Keilah continued their work, chatting quietly, while Zabad stood watching. Jehoiada crossed the small chamber in two steps, snagged his wife’s waist, and pulled her toward a corner. “You surprise me every day, Princess Jehosheba.” After making sure the others were distracted, he stole a quick kiss. Surely the high priest should strive for some decorum.
Her cheeks flushed a lovely pink, and she whispered for only him, “Have you heard from Obadiah yet?”
“Not yet, but I hope to find him at the palace after I finish my duties at court. Have you thought of anything else I should tell him?”
She laid her head on his chest and hugged his waist. “I just wish we knew more about Ima Thaliah’s plans for him. She said nothing in the scroll, and she hasn’t invited me back to her chamber. Are you sure we shouldn’t ask in my next reply to her?”
“We’ll only respond to her questions. I fear if we ask questions of our own, we might inadvertently offer information, giving new arrows for her quiver.” Jehoiada kissed the top of her head. “I need to speak with Obadiah. If he’s in the palace today, Zabad and I will find him.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “Please be careful. Ima wants to destroy Yahweh’s power and presence in Judah. What would keep her from destroying you?”
“Yahweh, my love.” Jehoiada kissed away her salty tears. “Yahweh is the only one who can defeat Athaliah.”
She nodded, shame shadowing her beautiful features. “I know. I’m sorry. I—”
“No apologies. We are one flesh, you and I. When I’m afraid or angry, you remind me that Yahweh is the answer—and I do the same for you.” He cupped her cheeks, wiping her tears with his thumbs. “No blame. No guilt or shame. We live and fight with Yahweh’s strength, not our own. Now, pray that Yahweh will help me find Obadiah, for I believe he’s the only one with knowledge of that quarry—and I believe that quarry is Yahweh’s provision for our future.”
