In the Shadow of Jezebel (27 page)

L
EVITICUS
1:2; 2:1–2

Speak to the Israelites and say to them: “When anyone among you brings an offering to the L
ORD
, bring as your offering an animal from either the herd or the flock. . . . When anyone brings a grain offering . . . their offering is to be of the finest flour. They are to pour olive oil on it, put incense on it and take it to Aaron’s sons the priests . . . and burn this as a memorial portion on the altar, a food offering, an aroma pleasing to the L
ORD
.”

Z
ev nodded to one of the two Carites at Queen Athaliah’s chamber door. The soldier rapped on the double doors with his spearhead, and Zabad leaned forward to whisper in Sheba’s ear, “Are you all right, my lady?”

She barely had time to pat his forearm and nod, assuring him for the third time since returning from Zev’s chamber. His worried expression was the last thing she glimpsed before Zev and the two Carite guards nudged her and Hazi into Ima’s chamber and closed the door.

“Sheba, you look like walking death! And your face—how awful!” Athaliah gasped. Mattan stood like a sentry beside Ima’s couch, his bald head gleaming in the afternoon sunlight. Ima cradled Sheba’s elbow, leading her on the narrow red carpet,
while Hazi followed close behind. “What has that Yahweh priest done to you?”

“Jehoiada is very kind to me, Ima.” Sheba nodded at Mattan before taking her seat at the opposite end of the couch. “I haven’t been myself since Hazi’s banquet.”

Ima joined her, sitting too close, and Hazi pulled up a stool at Sheba’s right. “Perhaps you’re with child.” Ima grasped her hand, patting it, massaging it. “Or was it the old priest’s fault that he and his first wife never had children?”

Sheba’s heart twisted inside her. “I suppose we’ll know in time.” For a fleeting moment, she’d hoped Ima hadn’t known. She shouldn’t have been surprised.

“Jehoram said the priest confessed he and his first wife never had children, but there’s always a chance that
she
was the barren one.” Ima glanced at Hazi. “Tell your sister there’s always hope, dear.”

“Sheba knows where to place her hope, Ima.” Hazi’s tenderness washed over Sheba, his eyes, his smile, his gentle voice. He winked and took her other hand. She felt like a toy being tugged between warring children—Hazi’s compassion on one side, Ima’s scheming on the other.

Sheba closed her eyes, remembering Hazi’s advice on their short journey from the Temple. Ima Thaliah had done everything he had warned—criticized Sheba, condemned Jehoiada, and planted doubts. His methods had certainly been deplorable, but perhaps his heart could be trusted. She opened her eyes, strengthened, ready for whatever came next.

“I summoned you both to emphasize the importance of your roles in our success.” She snapped her fingers, signaling Mattan to retrieve the scroll lying on the table beside her. He placed it in her palm and gave a cursory bow, his dead gray eyes never leaving Sheba.

“I received this urgent message from Gevirah Jizebaal.” Ima Thaliah unrolled the rather large scroll and began reading.

From Jizebaal, Gevirah of Ram, the Reigning King of Israel.

To My Revered Daughter, Thali, Queen of Judah.

We send greetings with blessings from almighty Baal Melkart, Rider of the Clouds. May he bless the fruit of your womb—our beloved crown prince, Hazi. And may the gods grant special favor to the lovely Sheba as she casts the spell of Astarte on Yahweh’s high priest.

The words sent a shiver through Sheba, and Ima Thaliah looked up. “Are you cold, dear? Would you like Mattan to fetch a blanket from my bed?”

Fighting for control, Sheba cursed her weakness. “No, Ima. Thank you. I’m still battling what remains of my illness. Please continue.” She bowed her head, hoping to hide her fear but knowing Ima saw everything.

Aram continues their border attacks, and the usurper King Hazael threatens another siege on Samaria. Baal Melkart continues his faithful protection of cities, but small farms and Israelites on our eastern borders are savagely attacked. Your brother Ram refuses to restore mandatory worship of Baal Melkart, and Elisha continues to gain support of the rural areas with three prophets’ schools near Jericho, Bethel, and Gilgal.

Ram refuses to mandate Judean military aid, but I’m sure you will guide Hazi in the proper course of action. The time is drawing near for our nations to unite under one god.

Written by my own hand.

Sheba kept her head bowed, refusing to acknowledge the pressure the Gevirah’s letter placed on their shoulders. Silence stretched the tension like a bowstring.

Finally, Hazi sighed. “Ima, I know you feel obligated to do as the Gevirah
suggests
, but Judah cannot offer military aid when our own army was decimated so recently. Our general
was killed in Edom’s rebellion, and hundreds of watchmen died in the Philistine raid. During my tour of Judah, I reestablished leadership of garrisons in the fortified cities, which created some stability, but the watchmen my brothers installed when they became governors were given free access to the temple prostitutes. It will take time for the new commanders to drill real discipline into these soldiers.”

“Your abba was a fool. I told him our sons weren’t ready to appoint leaders.”

Sheba’s head shot up, anger shoving aside every other emotion.

The queen smiled wickedly. “Finally, a glimpse of the old Sheba.”

Her neck and cheeks burned, but before Sheba could release her venom, Hazi laid a quieting hand on her arm. “We’re not going to discuss past decisions, Ima. We’re going to talk about
now
. Judah has no army to help defend Israel. Uncle Ram and General Jehu know it. That’s why they refuse to ask for Judah’s help. The Gevirah—and you—would be wise to listen to your sons.”

Ima Thaliah’s glare screamed into the interminable silence. Sheba wanted to speak her mind, yearned to defend Abba, but knew she dare not enter the fray with emotions as fragile as Persian glass. She noticed her hands fidgeting and laced her fingers together, but Hazi didn’t flinch.

“Well, Ima? Are you going to answer me, or shall we have Mattan divine your reply from a goat’s liver?”

Ima Thaliah smiled, calm and cool. Instead of answering, she turned to Sheba. “Perhaps Sheba would like to divine the answer.” She lifted a single eyebrow in challenge.

Sheba’s heart was in her throat. How could she call on the pagan gods when she’d promised Jehoiada she wouldn’t? More importantly, she’d be betraying Yahweh, and suddenly that thought repulsed her.
Yahweh, give me wisdom to answer—

“Your brother seems empowered by his recent independence,” Ima began before Sheba could speak, “and I fear both of my children have become distracted by marital bliss, forgetting their
true
responsibilities.” She glanced over her shoulder at Mattan and nodded toward her bedchamber.

He disappeared behind the curtain and emerged with the golden tongs stolen from the Temple. He placed them in Sheba’s hands. “You may return these to your husband as a sign of goodwill from Baal’s high priest.” His cold, dead eyes raked over her.

Sheba’s heart raced, fear and confusion tying her tongue. She looked at Hazi for direction, but his furrowed brow reflected her surprise. “Why would you give them back?” she asked finally, but Hazi squeezed her arm, reminding her to weigh every word. “I mean . . . is there a message I should deliver with the tongs?”

Mattan’s lips curved into an insolent smile. “My priests and I have cursed this instrument, and when your husband takes it into His temple, Baal Melkart will begin his destruction from the inside out.” He cast a disparaging look at Hazi. “We have indeed divined through a
bull’s
entrails that some kind of destruction will originate from within Yahweh’s Temple.”

Sheba concentrated on keeping her breathing steady, praying silently to the one God she knew could save her, while speaking to those who sought her destruction. “I will deliver your gift to my husband, but as you know, he is a stubborn man. I can’t promise his response.”

“Sheba, my dear, I’m disappointed. I thought by now your Astarte training would be wielding greater power over your husband.” Without waiting for a response, she turned her attention on Hazi. “However, I anticipated Sheba’s slow start, and I’m depending on you, my son, to change the opinion of both Yahweh’s high priest and our nation as a whole.”

“I’m doing all I can, Ima,” Hazi said dismissively, cradling Sheba’s hand.

Ima’s dark smile cast its shadow over them. “No, Hazi. You’re about to do more—much more. You will annex small Judean farms to build the royal treasury. You will bribe Yahweh’s priests to overthrow Jehoiada’s leadership. And in your spare time, you’ll marry more wives and give me granddaughters to add to my queens of destiny. Any questions? Hmm?”

“I won’t do it, Ima.” He raised his chin. “When I sit on Judah’s throne, I will lead with integrity—as my saba Jehoshaphat did.”

Sheba held her breath, waiting for Ima’s fury. Instead, the queen giggled. Quietly at first, and then she exploded to full-throated laughter—her gaiety more frightening than her anger. Ima tugged on Mattan’s sleeve. “Tell the guards we’re ready.”

The high priest strolled toward the chamber door, his smug satisfaction adding to Sheba’s dread.

“What guards?” Panic swept Hazi’s features. “My Carites or the watchmen? What have you done, Ima?”

“Nooooo!” A bloodcurdling scream from the hallway pierced the air. The doors burst open, and two Judean watchmen dragged in one of Hazi’s wives, her face bruised and swollen.

Hazi leapt from his stool and it clattered across the tiles. He pounded a watchman’s jaw, sending him to the floor, while the other guard held Hazi’s wife like a shield in front of him. The girl stood sobbing, clutching her belly.

“You see, my son,” Ima Thaliah said with icy calm, “when you spend all your time with Zibiah, your other wives go unprotected and come to harm.”

“How could you do this, Ima?” Hazi screamed. “She is with child!”

Thaliah nodded to the guard holding the girl, and he released her to the comfort of Hazi’s arms. “I chose your least favorite wife, Hazi, and no harm came to your child.” She motioned for both watchmen to leave and continued her explanation when the door clicked shut. “You have thirteen wives, and you’ve spent every night with Zibiah since your return to Jerusalem. Only six of your wives have proven to be with child, so you still have work to do, my son. You will spend equal time with each wife until they are
all
with child—and then you will acquire more wives.”

Hazi was whispering to his young wife, kissing her bruised cheeks, caressing her hair. Ima’s cool facade began to crack. “How much farther must I go to gain your attention, Prince Hazi?” she screamed, rousing terrified stares from the newlyweds.

Sheba couldn’t bear to watch. She bowed her head, tears dripping onto her folded hands.

“Pay attention, Sheba,” Ima said, regaining her calm. “This is your brother’s Pool of Trembling, the moment I demand his full obedience—and show him the consequences of rebellion.”

Hazi placed his bride behind him and faced Ima. “May I summon Zev to escort my wife to her chamber while we finish our discussion?” His face was chiseled stone as he waited for Ima’s barely perceptible nod.

Ima Thaliah watched the interchange intently as Hazi delivered his bride into Zev’s care. The two men whispered, the captain nodded, and Zev cradled the woman’s elbow as they left. Without warning, Ima clutched Sheba’s hands to stop her mindless fidgeting.

Hazi watched Zev escort his wife to her chamber before he closed Ima’s door. He returned to the couch, righted his stool, and sat beside Sheba. His wicked determination resembled his ima’s. “Tell me exactly what you expect from me,
Queen Athaliah
.”

“We will appear together every day in the Throne Hall, acting on behalf of your abba Jehoram. You will summon the garrison commanders from all fortified cities, and
we
will issue orders from King Jehoram to take possession of all small farms in the surrounding countryside. It’s the way Abba Ahab built Israel into a strong nation.”

“Ima, we can’t command Judah’s army to break the Law of Moses. The Law specifically protects the inheritance of land by tribe, clan, and family.” He paused, his eyes sparking with real passion, true leadership. “If we dispose of our standards, our foundation, we weaken the threads that weave the fabric of our nation.”

Sheba’s heart nearly burst with pride. Oh, how she wished Jehoiada could hear him.

Ima seemed more amused than impressed. “I hear the ramblings of the high priest from my son’s lips. When we dispose of Yahweh and His Temple, we’ll have no more need for the Law of Moses. Baal Melkart—the king of
cities
—will be our lawgiver. And that’s where your system of bribery comes into play.” Her eyes glinted with an unnerving flame. “Of Judah’s
three standing armies—the king’s Carite bodyguards, the Judean watchmen, and Yahweh’s Temple guards—the watchmen, of course, far outnumber the other two contingents, but the Carites and Temple guards are far more skilled and fiercely loyal to their respective masters.”

She turned to Sheba, brushing her cheek. “I want to thank you, Daughter, for your recent . . . what should we call it—illness?” Sheba pulled away. “Your high priest husband has been so absorbed in caring for his bride that he’s neglected his duties, stirring resentment among his followers. We’ve found it much easier to purchase their loyalty.”

Emotion tightened Sheba’s throat, cutting off any defense. But what could she say? Her weakness had made her husband vulnerable and could destroy Judah if Ima Thaliah gained control of the Temple.

Hazi placed his hand on her back, the warmth of it bringing her comfort as he spoke. “Surely you don’t think the people of Judah will lie down and let you replace the Yahwist heritage they’ve held for hundreds of years with a Phoenician god—no matter how seductive.”

“I won’t replace Yahweh, Hazi. You will.”

He ripped off his crown and raked his fingers through his hair. “Ima, it can’t be done!”