Among the Gods (34 page)

27

J
OSHUA’S CARAVAN MADE THE SLOW, WINDING CLIMB
to Jerusalem, and as the land of Judah unfolded before his eyes, the hills and valleys all seemed achingly familiar with their terraced vineyards and ancient olive groves—yet so horribly different. His homeland seemed as alien to him as Egypt had when he first moved there. Pagan shrines and high places now blighted the once-beautiful landscape. The smoke of Baal’s altar fires rose like funeral pyres from every hilltop, proclaiming the spiritual death of his nation.

“Judah’s idolatry is worse than Egypt’s,” Joel complained. The high priest averted his gaze to avoid the shrines and had no place to rest his eyes but the ground. “We certainly have a lot of work ahead of us.”

“Yes,” Amariah agreed, “and after all these years, I don’t think we’ll be able to change things overnight.”

Joshua’s first glimpse of Jerusalem stopped him in his tracks. “Miriam, look,” he said in a hushed voice. “There it is!” The golden sunlight of early fall gilded the city’s stone walls. Warm beams reflected off the Temple’s roof like the radiant glow of a beacon, beckoning him home. From a distance, the city seemed bathed in an aura of amber light. “God of Abraham … I’ve forgotten how beautiful Jerusalem is!” he murmured.

The illusion quickly faded as they approached the gates, then entered the defiled city. In the marketplace, every wicked practice and unclean thing imaginable was for sale, from carved idols and fortune tellers to ritual prostitutes. Joshua gazed in horrified fascination at the vulgar images and mysterious amulets displayed on either side of the stall he’d rented, too stunned to look away. “How has Yahweh tolerated this for so long?” he murmured.

“I don’t know,” Joel said, “but thank God He shielded us and our families from it on Elephantine Island.”

Joshua was eager to begin the reformation. His restlessness provided the drive necessary to get everyone through the first difficult days in their homeland. The stall they leased in the marketplace, piled with bolts of Egyptian cotton from their caravan, provided a convenient base from which to observe the city. Joshua managed to rent a tiny one-room house for Miriam and himself nearby, while Nathan, Joel, and Amariah slept in the rear of the booth. By the end of the first week, Joshua had gleaned enough information for them to take the first step in his plan.

“The greatest obstacle to your assumption of power doesn’t seem to exist,” he told Prince Amariah. “We’ve seen no sign of Assyrian officials or troops anywhere in the country. The only government officials that I can see are the city elders meeting at the gate, and even they don’t appear to be very effective. But we’ll start with them, first thing tomorrow.”

Leaving Nathan in charge of their booth the next day, Joshua set out with Joel and the prince for the city gate. He had strapped his dagger beneath his robes, where he could reach it quickly. Prince Amariah waited for the elders to finish settling a dispute between two other men before stepping forward to repeat the words he and Joshua had rehearsed.

“Good morning, my lords,” he began, “I was wondering if you could help me. I’ve been living outside of Jerusalem for many years, but I’ve recently learned that my older brother has died. I’d like to find out how I can redeem my father’s inheritance.”

“We have authority only in Jerusalem,” the chief elder said. “Is your father’s property within the city limits?”

“Some of it is. But tell me—who has authority outside of the city?”

The elder paused, glancing nervously at the others. “At the moment, no one,” he said quietly.

“Well, isn’t there someone at the palace I can petition?” Amariah asked.

The spokesman studied Amariah carefully, as if deciding how to answer. “You can leave your petition with a palace chamberlain, but … in case you’re not aware … the king left Jerusalem some months ago and hasn’t returned.”

“What about his secretary or his palace administrator? Didn’t he leave one of his officials in charge?”

The elder seemed reluctant to answer and irritated with Amariah for forcing the issue. “There is no one,” he finally admitted.

Joshua’s heart quickened with excitement. God had paved Amariah’s way, making this easier than any of them could have imagined. When Amariah turned to him, his eyes asking an unspoken question, Joshua said, “Go ahead, tell them.”

Amariah squared his shoulders and faced the elders again, his voice strong and decisive. “Very well, I’ll begin with the part of my claim that is under your jurisdiction: my father’s property here in Jerusalem. I am Prince Amariah, son of Hezekiah. My brother is King Manasseh.” He extended his fist to display his royal signet ring.

The elders all seemed dumb struck, especially the chief elder. One of them had to sit down to absorb the news. Joshua watched them carefully, gauging each of their reactions. He had warned Amariah to expect suspicion and resistance, but as their astonishment slowly faded, the overwhelming reaction of all these men was fear. Joshua released his hold on the dagger handle as he breathed a sigh of relief. These elders wouldn’t oppose his plans.

“If you require further proof of my identity,” Amariah said, “feel free to question me.”

The elder who was seated shook his head. “I would believe you, even without that ring. Your resemblance to your father is unmistakable. And I know who you are, as well,” he said, pointing to Joshua. “You’re Lord Eliakim’s son.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Like two ghosts from the grave,” the chief elder murmured.

“You don’t have anything to fear from us,” Amariah said.

“There has been enough bloodshed already during my brother’s reign. We’re here to help restore the government. I’m aware that Manasseh has a son who is his legal heir, but I’m not interested in challenging his claim. I only want to provide leadership until he’s old enough to be anointed king. I’ll serve as his palace administrator, Joshua as his secretary and advisor. From what you’ve said, I assume no one else lays claim to those positions at the moment.”

“There’s no one left to fill them,” the chief elder said. “The Assyrians deported all of the king’s officials along with him. Any noblemen who were lucky enough to escape are afraid to come forward.”

“What about Manasseh’s son?” Joshua asked.

“The boy is in hiding with his mother.”

“Let him remain in hiding,” Amariah said, “until you are confident that I mean him no harm.” He crossed his arms, appraising the astounded men. They were unable to stop staring at him. “So, then. Can I count on your support for my claim?”

“We’ll support you, Prince Amariah,” the chief elder said quickly. “Heaven knows, we’re desperate for leadership around here. But may I ask you a question? Why on earth would you want the job? Judah is an Assyrian vassal state. Do you have any idea what will happen to you if Emperor Ashurbanipal disputes your claim to the throne?”

“I can well imagine,” Amariah said. “But I have King David’s blood in my veins, and that gives me certain responsibilities to our nation. I have a healthy fear of the Assyrians, yes, but I also have faith in Yahweh. I believe that this is His will for me.”

Joshua watched carefully, but the elders showed no response at all to Amariah’s declaration of faith in Yahweh. He longed to astonish them further with the news that Joel was the anointed high priest of Yahweh and that they intended to reclaim the Temple as well as the government. But they had agreed ahead of time not to reveal Joel’s identity. No changes at the Temple would be possible until Amariah was firmly in control of the nation.

“How soon can I reclaim my father’s property?” the prince asked.

“You mean his palace? We can take you there now, if you’d like.”

This was too easy. Joshua’s mind raced ahead, searching for the trap. “Just a minute,” he said. “What about Manasseh’s guards?”

“The Assyrians rounded up every Judean soldier they could find, as well as the king’s bodyguards. The palace is empty except for the chamberlains and a handful of servants.”

Joshua finally agreed to let the elders escort them to the palace, unable to see any danger. But he remained alert for trouble, his dagger ready by his side.

When he reached the top of the hill, Joshua got his first glimpse of Manasseh’s palace—they hadn’t dared approach it since their return. The once-familiar structure now resembled a fortress with thick barricades surrounding it. Even if an enemy had breached the city walls, Manasseh would have been safe inside. Joshua smiled, aware that no barricade in the world could have shielded the king from God’s judgment.

The guard booth beside the door stood vacant. Joshua and the others climbed the broad steps to the main doors and walked, unchallenged, into the palace. He wasn’t prepared for the sudden swell of emotion that flooded through him. His dream of restoring his homeland was being fulfilled at last. He choked back the knot of emotion that filled his throat, praying that he wouldn’t be required to speak.

An elderly chamberlain hurried toward them, his fearful gaze not on the strangers but on the chief elder. The old man looked tattered, unkempt, and vaguely familiar to Joshua.

Before the elders had a chance to speak, Amariah pushed forward to greet the man. “Ephraim! Is it really you?”

The chamberlain gaped at the prince for a moment, then recognition lit his face. He fell at Amariah’s feet. “Your Majesty! … Prince Amariah! Oh, you’ve come back to us!”

“Here, stand up, Ephraim, and let me have a look at you.”

As Amariah helped the chamberlain to his feet again, Joshua suddenly remembered him as one of their favorite palace servants from childhood. He felt another rush of emotion, but a tidal wave of anger quickly consumed it, for if Ephraim was still alive, then he must have stood idly by years ago when Manasseh condemned Abba to death. He would have to pay for his cowardice. Joshua was imagining Ephraim’s trial, the satisfaction of sentencing him to death, when Prince Amariah interrupted his thoughts.

“Ephraim, you remember Joshua, Lord Eliakim’s son, don’t you?”

Ephraim’s eyes met Joshua’s, but the hatred the old man must have seen in Joshua’s expression made him back away. “Yes, of course,” he said. “But you’ve changed, my lord, much more than Prince Amariah has.”

“Will you show us around?” Amariah asked. “It’s been so long, I’m not certain I can find my way anymore.”

“I would be honored, Your Majesty,” he said shakily. “I should warn you, though, that the Assyrians looted everything of value. We tried to fix things up and keep everything functioning in case King Manasseh returned, but …”

“It’s all right, Ephraim. I’m sure you did your best.”

They began a slow tour of the palace, beginning with the lower hallways, chambers, and council room. The palace administrator’s office was so changed that Joshua had a difficult time believing it was the same room his father had used. When they entered the throne room, Joshua stared for a long time at his father’s seat beside the king’s throne, but he was unable to picture him there. This room was Manasseh’s judgment hall—Abba had been unjustly condemned to death in this room.

Joshua wandered through the rest of the palace as if in a dream. Some rooms were still vaguely familiar, but most of it seemed so changed that he felt lost. Amariah grew more and more somber as they walked. Joshua recognized the prince’s emotion as grief.

The hardest rooms for Joshua to view were the private living quarters—the king’s chambers, where Manasseh had lived after Hezekiah died; the palace nursery where they had played together as children; the classroom where he’d spent so many hours with Manasseh and Rabbi Gershom. Joshua could only glimpse them briefly before turning away.

Throughout the tour, Ephraim eyed Prince Amariah nervously, as if fearful of displeasing him. “Tell me which rooms you would like, Your Majesty, and I’ll prepare them for you right away. The king’s chambers are the most comfortable—”

“No, Ephraim, I’m not the king. My nephew is. I’m sorry, but I don’t even know what his name is.”

“It’s Amon, Your Majesty.”

“Amon?”
Joshua repeated. “Like the Egyptian god?”

“Yes, my lord. But the boy isn’t living here.”

“I know,” Amariah said. “When Amon returns, the king’s chambers will be his. For now, the rooms I lived in before I left will suit me just fine.”

“Which rooms would you like, my lord?” It took Joshua a moment to realize that the chamberlain was talking to him.

“I … I can’t … I won’t be living in the palace,” he managed to say.

The prince turned to him in surprise. “Joshua, why not?”

“I can’t live here…. Miriam and I will stay where we are for now.”

“I understand,” he said. “This is difficult for me, too. It’s not my home anymore. I thought it would be, but it isn’t. Most of my life has been lived on Elephantine Island.”

“Maybe things will change once our families arrive,” Joel said quietly.

Amariah shook his head. “I can’t ask Dinah to live here. I don’t even know if I can stand it myself. Manasseh is everywhere.”

“I know,” Joshua said. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” The tour ended near the door to the royal walkway, leading up to the Temple. None of them had gone up to see it since their return. “Does anyone feel like taking a look?” Joshua asked.

Joel sighed. “All right. The first time will be the hardest, no matter how long I avoid it.”

When they reached the top of the hill, the three men could only stand outside the gate and stare in horror. Except for the sanctuary, the Temple Mount was unrecognizable. “God of Abraham,” Joshua murmured. He had never witnessed such a sight. The courtyards were crammed with forbidden images. The royal sorcerers, astrologers, and shrine prostitutes all continued to practice their idolatry, going about their rituals as if the king had never left Jerusalem. The scene was so vile that none of them could bear to walk through the gate.

“Let’s get out of here,” Amariah said.

The triumph Joshua felt earlier as he’d climbed the palace steps had all faded, leaving sorrow and emptiness in its place. He wondered, as they walked down the hill again, if the task they faced would prove too great for them. “We have so much work ahead of us,” he said. “We may as well accept the fact that it’s going to take a long time—probably the rest of our lives.”