In the Shadow of Jezebel

by Mesu Andrews

  The cool harvest breeze carried the ritual cries of Baal’s temple to his ears, piercing him with a question. Can one day of an animal’s blood wash away such deeply rooted sin in human hearts?

  At midday, Hazi had worshiped at Yahweh’s Temple, celebrating Israel’s atonement from sin. Now, Israel’s future king worshiped at Baal’s temple, condoning the frenetic cutting and spilling of human blood. The irony churned in Jehoiada’s belly as he considered the recent rumors of miracles at Baal’s temple. Mattan predicted twin boys for a nobleman’s wife by reading a sheep’s liver, and he’d averted a shady Egyptian potter’s thievery by reading the flight of a soldier’s arrow. These were the charming miracles chatted about at feasts and celebrations.

  But what about Mattan’s curses and spells?

  Several priestess candidates had been returned to their families as unsuitable—and died of undisclosed causes soon after. Mattan’s appetite for bloodier worship, more frenzied chanting, had stirred a terrible intrigue in the people in Judah. Pilgrims came from every corner of the nation to watch the show at Baal’s temple in Jerusalem.

  “My lord, are you all right?” Nathanael stopped, placing a comforting hand on Jehoiada’s shoulder.

  Only then did Yahweh’s high priest realize tears wet his cheeks. Clearing his throat, he regained his composure and continued walking toward their chambers. “I wanted to thank you for your wise counsel, Nathanael. You said, ‘Don’t worry about finding the quarry tunnel. Concentrate on your worship, and your heart will be prepared to be God’s instrument.’”

  “And were you able to worship? Did you set aside duty alone and let Yahweh lead you?”

  His satisfied heart radiated through his smile. “Indeed I did, and by my third journey into the Holy of Holies, I realized the utter futility of animals’ blood sacrifice as atonement for sin.”

  “How can you say that?” Nathanael halted, appearing as horrified as Jehoiada had felt. “If there is no atonement through blood sacrifice, then what is there?”

  “That question drove me to my knees. I couldn’t bear the thought of my futile efforts year after year, pleading for forgiveness for a nation—for myself—that sins without end.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I found the tunnel.”

  “You found—”

  “Shh!” Jehoiada chuckled.

  Nathanael’s joy was short-lived, however. “Wait, you were telling me sacrifice was futile, and then you found”—he glanced in every direction to be sure they weren’t overheard—“the tunnel?”

  “When I found the tunnel, I realized God’s atonement is vast and beyond my understanding—like the quarry and its tunnels. I am to be faithful in the Law of Moses that He’s revealed to me. And when Yahweh provides more information—a secret tunnel under the Ark or the coming Son of David—I will abide by His new plan.”

  “Ahh . . . so the morning sacrifice will go on as planned?”

  Jehoiada chuckled. “Yes, Nathanael. We’re on schedule for the morning sacrifice.”

  The second priest beamed but kept his voice low. “So what did you see? Where is the entrance? Did you go in?”

  Jehoiada grinned and raised a single eyebrow.

  Within a few heartbeats, understanding dawned, and Nathanael released an exaggerated sigh. “All right, not here, not now.” He pursed his lips and lengthened his stride across the inner court straight to Jehoiada’s door. “Would you like to divulge the information in your chamber or mine?”

  “My chamber, please, and let’s remove my golden garments there as well. Jehosheba will also be anxious to hear the news.” He pushed open his chamber door. “Shalom, my love.”

  Jehosheba’s head shot up from a huddle of faces in their small outer chamber. Zabad, Zibiah, and a woman he didn’t know stared back wide-eyed, as if he might eat them alive. Jehosheba laced her arm in the stranger’s elbow and escorted her forward. “Jehoiada, this is Gadara, a midwife from the City of David. She’s showing me how to care for Keilah—here in our chamber.”

  “A midwife? Is Keilah preg—” Nathanael’s tone betrayed his pain, but Jehoiada shot him a warning glance, silencing the inappropriate question. Now was no time to announce his feelings.

  Jehosheba seemed enchanted by Nathanael’s concern, but Jehoiada was still trying to reconcile the day’s emotions, an unknown midwife, and the news of Keilah’s long-term visit—which he hadn’t approved. Breathe. The Day of Atonement is a year away. Don’t sin in anger. Don’t lose your temper.

  “Welcome, Gadara,” he said, stepping forward with a curt bow. “May I ask why you can’t care for Keilah with your other patients in the city?”

  “Jehoiada!” Jehosheba shouted. “We can’t move Keilah again. She’ll die. Gadara was kind enough to come with us to show me—”

  Gadara shoved Jehosheba aside and began her own explanation. “Keilah started with milk fever two days ago and didn’t seek treatment right away, so it’s gone into her blood. I thought she’d be lying in a sarcophagus, sleeping in Mother Sarah’s bosom by now, but when Lady Sheba and Lady Zibiah came to the brothel—”

  “The brothel!” Jehoiada exploded, his first target Zabad. “Is she telling me you took my wife and the wife of Judah’s crown prince to a brothel! Hazi could have you arrested—I may have you arrested!”

  “Well, some high priest you are.” Gadara snorted and disappeared into Jehoiada’s bedchamber, leaving him panting with rage.

  Zabad met Jehoiada’s fiery gaze, unflinching. “When you see Keilah, you’ll be thankful Yahweh sent us to retrieve her. Now, if I’m dismissed, I must be sure Micaiah has completely burned the animal hides, flesh, and offal outside the city. And I can’t close the Temple gates until Elan has returned from the wilderness after releasing the scapegoat.”

  He bowed rather stiffly, and Jehoiada realized Zabad must be tired too. If Keilah was as sick as the midwife described, his chief gatekeeper would have undoubtedly carried her—and taken instruction from that bossy midwife with every step.

  A surge of pity washed over Jehoiada, and he squeezed the man’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, my friend. Thank you for keeping them safe.”

  “I’d rather face your anger than Gadara’s sharp tongue.” A wink and a chuckle assured Zabad’s forgiveness.

  “Would you mind escorting me to the palace before you close the gates?” Zibiah’s voice was small, almost apologetic. “We heard the Baal worship begin. I hope Hazi hasn’t missed me yet. I don’t want to explain my afternoon to him.” Jehosheba hugged her friend, and Zabad escorted her out the door.

  Only Nathanael remained, and he was anxious for answers. “How could Keilah be so sick, Jehosheba? We spoke yesterday about finding time during today’s Sabbath to talk—alone.”

  Jehoiada raised an eyebrow. “I thought we agreed you would be cautious, Nathanael.”

  Jehosheba gasped and planted balled fists on her hips. “Jehoiada ben Jonah! Why didn’t you tell me Nathanael and Keilah felt this way about each other?”

  “What do you mean, ‘about each other’? Did Keilah express feelings for me?” Hope dawned on Nathanael’s features, and Jehosheba looked like an Egyptian cat with a mouse’s tail hanging from her lips—utterly pleased but afraid opening her mouth might forfeit the prize.

  Jehoiada grabbed his wife’s tiny waist and pulled her toward him. “You and I need to talk, Princess Jehosheba. I’m sorry I shouted at you—and you’re sorry for . . .”

  She cupped an elbow with one hand and tapped her cheek with her finger. “Hmm, I’m sorry . . . I’m sorry you were rude to Gadara?”

  Nathanael grinned, but Jehoiada scowled at his charming wife. “I’ll address my poor manners with the midwife, but where are we supposed to sleep while Keilah is recuperating in our chamber?”

  “For the first few nights, I’ll sleep in our chamber with Keilah to apply Gadara’s poultices. When Keilah’s out of danger, I’ll sleep on our couch in the outer chamber.” Jehosheba glanced at Nathanael. “I was hoping my
husband could stay with you while I’m tending to Keilah.”

  Nathanael beamed. “Of course! Jehoiada, you may have my bedchamber, and I’ll sleep on the bench in my outer chamber. But please, Lady Jehosheba, tell me what Keilah said that made you think she has feelings for me.”

  Jehoiada felt duped, like he’d been sold a wool blanket on a summer’s day, but Jehosheba snuggled into his chest, her warmth more comforting than a blanket.

  She peeked over Jehoiada’s arms and gave Nathanael a sweet gift. “When we first saw Keilah, she was too sick to speak, could barely open her eyes. But when Zibiah told her we were taking her to the Temple, she said one word.” Jehosheba waited, seeming delighted in Nathanael’s growing anticipation.

  The second priest nearly shouted, “What word?”

  “She said your name, my friend.”

  A satisfied smile creased Nathanael’s lips. “I’m going to marry her, Jehoiada.”

  “What?” both the high priest and his wife said in unison.

  Jehoiada nudged Jehosheba toward the couch and invited Nathanael to join him at the table. “Listen, my friend. You’re tired. It’s been an emotional day. Do you even know if Keilah’s husband had a brother? She may be obligated.”

  Jehosheba slid off the couch to join them. “What do you mean, ‘obligated’? Who cares about her dead husband’s brother? Where was he when she was dying in a brothel?”

  Jehoiada exchanged a solemn glance with his second. “Would you like to explain?”

  Nathanael turned pleading eyes toward her. “Does Keilah have any relatives? Did her husband have family in Judah?”

  “She’s never mentioned her family or her husband’s past.” She alternated puzzled glances between the two priests. “Why does it matter? If he didn’t help her when she needed it, why does he have the right to take her away from someone who loves her now?”

  Jehoiada prodded his second with a lifted brow. Nathanael sighed. “The Levirate law ensures the continuity of every family and tribe in Israel. As long as a man and his family have sons, they will always have heirs to maintain their God-given land. Israelites have always owned their own land, until Ahab began appropriating small Israelite farms into the royal treasury—whether by purchase or seizure. His sin skewed Yahweh’s perfect plan for Israel’s enduring economy.”

  Jehoiada saw the implication dawn on his wife’s face. “And Ima Thaliah is forcing Hazi to do the same thing in Judah.”

  Jehoiada reached for her hand, squeezing it. “Yes. The Levirate law may seem silly or unjust until we understand the Lawgiver’s love for His people.” He turned then to Nathanael, compassion thickening his tone. “You are a priest and an adult, but my authority over you is defined by this breastpiece.” He patted the twelve-stoned plate on his chest. “I care about your happiness, and if you love Keilah, I will support your decision to marry her, but I must wait until her strength returns to ask if she has a kinsman waiting to redeem his claim.”

  While Keilah napped, Sheba stood at her bedchamber door listening to the monotonous droning of her husband and his second priest. Who could guess so many decisions were involved in running a Temple? She’d been trained as a Baal priestess but had no concept of the grand scheme of Yahweh’s worship.

  Four Sabbaths had passed since Keilah took up residence in the high priest’s chamber. Gadara had visited several times and even spent a few nights with Keilah to give Sheba and Jehoiada time alone in Nathanael’s chamber. Nathanael had been extremely generous, sleeping in Zabad’s outer chamber or on the wooden bench in his outer room. During the day, however, Nathanael remained within the sound of Keilah’s voice whenever priestly duties allowed.

  “Next on my list . . .” Nathanael unrolled the parchment, revealing yet another issue, offering Jehoiada little time to comment. “May I suggest we employ a different seamstress to sew sleeves into the priest’s woven tunics. Our current keeper of the wardrobe has discovered more rips . . .”

  Nathanael droned on with endless details while Sheba watched tension pull Jehoiada’s handsome features into a scowl. The high priest’s patience was waning like the Jordan River in a drought. Perhaps she should intervene.

  “Excuse me for interrupting.” Sheba squeezed past the two men seated at their small table and pecked a kiss on her husband’s cheek. “I’ll only be a moment.” She set Keilah’s waste pot outside the chamber door and hurried to the basin to gather a towel, more bandages, and aloe. She heard Nathanael speaking, but Jehoiada wasn’t answering. Stop, Nathanael, before he—

  “Aren’t you listening?” Nathanael snapped.

  “No!” Jehoiada slammed his hand on the table, startling his wife and second priest. “How can I listen when everywhere I turn there are people and commotion and clutter?”

  “Jehoiada, keep your voice down.” Though Sheba hadn’t felt that inner trembling in a long while, she still hated his anger. Standing behind him, she laid her hands on his shoulders and steadied her voice. “What can we do about this? Do you have a solution, my love?” Yahweh, speak peace to Your servant Jehoiada. Give him wisdom . . . Almost immediately, she felt his shoulders ease, his breathing slow.

  “I’m sorry for losing my temper, Nathanael. Please find Zabad and bring him back here with you. I actually do have a solution in mind.”

  Nathanael glanced at Sheba, puzzled, but rose from his cushion and bowed before closing the door behind him. Jehoiada was on his feet before the door clicked shut. “Is Keilah strong enough to answer the Levirate question? Have you asked her yet?”

  Sheba covered a giggle. “This is your solution to our cramped living space?”

  He grabbed her waist and pulled her close. “It’s part of my solution.”

  “Yes, she’s strong enough, but I believe you should ask her about her kinsman. Nathanael looks up to you as an abba, and I think you should secure his future with the woman he loves.”

  Jehoiada’s throat tightened at the thought. Nathanael looks up to you as an abba. He certainly couldn’t be prouder of a blood-born son. He kissed his wife soundly, missing her more every night spent apart. Begrudgingly, he released her, and she followed him into their bedchamber, where Keilah still lay sleeping.

  “Should I wake her?” he asked.

  Sheba stifled a grin. “I don’t think she’ll mind for this.”

  Jehoiada grinned and knelt beside the wool-stuffed mattress. Touching Keilah’s shoulder, he shook her lightly. “Keilah, I must ask you a question.”

  Lovely brown eyes fluttered open. Looking concerned at first and then utterly confused, she glanced at Sheba and back to Jehoiada. The long illness had stripped her strength, but she lifted herself on one elbow. “Ask it. Anything.”

  “Did your husband have a brother, a kinsman to redeem you?”

  Leave it to a man to blurt it out. Sheba wanted to giggle, but she was too anxious to hear the answer.

  As the implication of his question unfolded, Keilah’s cheeks pinked. “You mean a Levirate claim? No. My husband and I had no siblings, and our parents died years ago.” Her eyes filled. “Dare I ask why you want to know?”

  Jehoiada shot to his feet, startling them both. “It’s part of a solution to our cramped quarters.” Before either woman could ask more, he turned and fled like his feet were on fire.

  Sheba exchanged a puzzled glance with her friend and chased her husband out of their chamber and into Nathanael’s rooms next door. “Jehoiada? What do you mean, part of your plan?”

  35

  2 CHRONICLES 24:26

  Zabad, son of Shimeath an Ammonite woman, and Jehozabad, son of Shimrith a Moabite woman.

  Jehoiada captured his wife’s small waist, stealing this rare moment alone in Nathanael’s chamber. “We can’t tell Nathanael that Keilah’s free to marry until after I disclose the rest of my plan.”

  She wriggled out of his grasp, seeming distracted. “That’s hardly fair. He’s waited so long, and I think he deserves to know right away.” Jehosheba spotted the dirty dishes he
and Nathanael had left in the washbasin this morning, drawn to them like a moth to flame.

  She reached for a cloth to wash them, and Jehoiada’s eyes lingered on her form. “Nathanael has been distracted enough recently. I need his full concentration to get the benefit of his detailed mind.” Jehosheba continued her busyness, puffing tendrils of dark hair off her forehead as she wiped the small table, her gracefulness captivating. How long had it been since he’d loved his wife thoroughly—without her heart and mind consumed with worry for others? In two steps, he captured her again, drawing her close. She giggled, thrilling him. Had she any idea how much he loved her? He lowered his lips to hers—

  “What should we do for Nathanael and Keilah’s wedding?” she asked just before their lips met.

  He dropped his head on her shoulder, defeated.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Annoyed, he released her, turning away before she saw the crimson flame creeping into his neck and cheeks. “I have other things on my mind right now. I don’t want to talk about a wedding.”

  Silence.

  “You think Keilah shouldn’t have a wedding since she’s been married before, don’t you?”

  The accusation stung, and he whirled on her, instantly defensive. “It has nothing to do with Keilah’s previous marriage. Maybe it’s because you found her lying in a brothel. Did you consider how that reputation would affect the second priest of Yahweh?”

  “Surely Keilah’s blameless poverty is more acceptable than a Baal priestess. The high priest of Yahweh sleeps with an idolater every night. What has that done to your reputation?” Her eyes blazed, and she began trembling head to toe.

  He released a weary sigh. How had an innocent kiss spiraled into a verbal battle? “Jehosheba,” he said gently, offering his hand. She recoiled. Was that fear again on her face? “Jehosheba!” His command sent her fleeing—headlong into Nathanael and Zabad, who were ambling in.

  As Sheba shoved past them, all three men jumped at the sound of a slamming door in the next chamber. Nathanael was the first to venture a word. “Would you like us to come back later?”