In the Shadow of Jezebel (44 page)

She cupped his cheeks and planted a gentle kiss on his lips. “Yahweh is God. You and Zechariah are safe. My heart is at rest, my love.
These
are the things that matter.”

Jehoiada’s throat tightened, silencing any attempt to reply. He drew her close again but noticed Zev’s shoulders shaking, head bowed. Jehoiada drew Jehosheba’s attention to their friend. “Zev, my friend, thank you for all you’ve done to keep Hazi’s son—our future king—safe.”

The hardened Carite pressed both thumbs against his eyes, regaining control. “I tried to save Zibiah, you know.”

Jehoiada released his wife and steadied the Carite’s shoulder. “Do you want to tell us what happened?”

“The watchmen must have sent Zibiah’s maids back upstairs. When we heard them knock, I told her not to let them in, but she wouldn’t listen. As soon as the maids entered, the watchmen rushed in with them, and the guards got to me before I could defend Zibiah.” Zev closed his eyes and shook his head as if disgusted with himself. “Ten of them pinned me to the floor before everything went black. I awoke in the prison, staring at Athaliah herself, eye to eye. She said all Hazi’s wives and sons were dead, and I had two choices: join them in Mot’s underworld or go to Caria to train a new royal guard to protect her.” He lifted his gaze and offered a slow, sinister smile. “I’ve never believed in Mot.”

Jehoiada’s blood ran cold. “Does this mean you’re truly loyal to Athaliah?”

A satisfied grin lit Zev’s features. “A servant of Yahweh could never be loyal to Jezebel’s daughter.”

Jehoiada and Jehosheba gasped in unison. “Servant of Yahweh? You, Zev?”

He chuckled and nodded, seeming almost shy. “It’s not something I announce publicly.” The sparkle in his eyes told Jehoiada it had been a well-kept secret for quite some time.

“Did Hazi know?” Jehosheba asked, her voice quaking.

“I prayed with him as his life ebbed away, Princess. Only Yahweh knows a man’s heart in those final moments of life. Only Yahweh.”

Jehosheba hugged the man so tightly he winced, his recent injuries still painful. Jehoiada gently patted his wife’s shoulder. “Come, my love. Let’s share our joy with the rest of the family.”

Keilah and Gadara had set aside their spindles while Zechariah, Joshua, and Prince Jehoash kicked and cooed on a veritable cloud of goatskin rugs. “I thought you’d never get over here,” Gadara grumbled as they approached. “Now you’ll have to repeat all the news.”

Zechariah squealed the moment he saw Jehosheba. She scooped him off the rug, weeping with joy at their reunion. Keilah gathered Joshua into her arms, leaving Prince Jehoash lying on the soft white curls. Gadara’s wary eye warned Jehoiada away like a bear from her cub—no doubt she recalled the prince’s reaction at Jehoiada’s last attempt.

But Zev heeded no warning and needed no invitation. His warrior-calloused hands lifted the infant prince with the care of a master potter. “Shalom, my lord Jehoash,” he whispered. “I am Zev, your protector. Yahweh our God has kept His covenant to David and will someday place you on your abba’s throne. I will guard you on that day and rejoice in Yahweh’s victory.” Zev’s tear dropped on the prince’s cheek.

Gadara raised a skeptical brow. “Well, I guess that covers part of the news, doesn’t it?”

Zev smiled, weary but radiant. “I leave at sunrise for Caria and will return to Jerusalem with a new royal guard—loyal to me and to Yahweh.” He placed the prince in Jehoiada’s arms. The babe remained still, seemingly infused with the Carite’s peace and strength. “Guard Hazi’s son with your life and teach him to walk in the ways of David. When the time is right, we’ll place him on Judah’s throne and destroy Athaliah’s reign.”

Jehoiada studied Prince Jehoash’s innocent face—the face of a king. Then he reached into his pocket and extended his clenched fist, holding it out to Zev without a word.

Jehosheba gasped, drawing Zev’s attention. Her eyes filled with tears, and she nodded enthusiastically, coaxing the Carite to accept Jehoiada’s unseen gift.

Looking confused but intrigued, the captain opened his hand.

Jehoiada dropped Hazi’s signet ring onto his palm. “Keep this with you always. The day I summon you to the Temple will be the day you place this ring on Jehoash’s finger—the day we place King David’s descendant back on Judah’s throne.”

2 K
INGS
11:4, 9–11

In the seventh year Jehoiada sent for the commanders of units of a hundred, the Carites and the guards and had them brought to him at the temple of the L
ORD
. He made a covenant with them and put them under oath. . . . Then he showed them the king’s son. . . . He gave the commanders the spears and shields that had belonged to King David and that were in the temple of the L
ORD
. The guards, each with weapon in hand, stationed themselves around the king—near the altar and the temple.

Q
ueen Athaliah ruled her people as she had raised her daughter—cold, distant, and ruthless—and the fear she wielded against Judah sliced her own soul. Within four years, the threats on her life grew so numerous she became a prisoner in her own palace. By her sixth year, she could no longer appear in the Throne Hall. Keeping to her private chamber, Athaliah valued only Mattan’s counsel, and Sheba alone brought her comfort.

This day dawned bright and clear, as if Yahweh Himself had arrived for the coronation. Sheba sat on the frayed embroidered
couch beside Ima Thaliah, heart pounding with joy and sorrow, waiting for the imminent sound of Temple trumpets.

Ima was completely unaware.

“I think Mattan has betrayed me. I’ve seen a great swell of Judeans enter the city during the past few days, but Mattan says he didn’t summon them or declare a special feast.” She stared out her open balcony doors, addressing no one—or perhaps she spoke to the gods who had failed her.

“It wasn’t Mattan.” Sheba’s words, spoken so softly, echoed through the chamber, mocking years of carefully crafted phrases.

The queen’s eyes flashed, and then a wicked grin creased her lips. “Ah, my girl. You’ve always exceeded my expectations.”

Sheba reached for her ima’s hand and knelt before her, stubborn tears gathering on her lashes. “We’re not playing a game now, Ima. You must listen. We haven’t much time.”

“Our lives are always a game to the gods, Sheba. We’re nothing but ants on a hill, tormented by gods with big sticks.”

“No, Ima, Yahweh is not like other gods. He is the one true God, and He loves His people, cherishes them—cherishes us. He will forgive—”

“Forgive?” Athaliah ripped her hands from Sheba’s grasp. “You think Yahweh will forgive
Jezebel’s
daughter? Don’t be a fool. I hate Judah’s god, and He hates me.” Her sharp black eyes had grown dull. Like pounding swords against a boulder, Ima’s intensity was blunted against Yahweh’s constancy, and Sheba felt more pity than revulsion for the woman she once thought great.

Trumpets blared from the Temple grounds, and a mighty shout rose in unison. “Long live the king! Long live the king!”

Athaliah shot to her feet and hurried to the balcony for a glimpse at the outer courts of Yahweh’s Temple. Sheba followed, arriving in time for Ima’s accusation. “What have you done? What about the queens of destiny?”

“Yahweh made a covenant with David that his descendants would reign forever on Judah’s throne.” Sheba wiped a triumphant tear, not even trying to hide it. “Hazi’s son lives. My nephew, Jehoash, is now Judah’s king.” Sheba held the queen’s gaze, waiting, hoping her ima would somehow accept—

“Nooooo!” Ima Thaliah fled from her chamber, screaming, leaving her double cedar doors ajar.

Sheba wondered if Ima noticed the absence of Carites, then shook her head, returned to the balcony, and scanned the sea of people flooding the courts of Yahweh’s Temple.

“Long live the king! Long live the king!” they cried, the sound like waves crashing against a crumbling sea wall.

Sheba watched from the palace balcony as the queen’s lone figure dashed into the Temple courts she’d avoided so long. The irony chilled her. Ima Thaliah would die on the only day she visited Yahweh’s Temple.

Jerusalem fell silent.

“Treason!” Ima’s bloodcurdling screech split the air. “Treason!” she cried, suddenly trying to retrace her path toward the palace.

Jehoiada, having vowed not to shed blood on Yahweh’s holy grounds, raised his hand in the direction of the Horse Gate. Temple guards followed his command, descending on Judah’s queen like hawks on prey. Sheba turned away, unable to watch the execution of the only ima she’d ever known.

A great shout ascended, drawing Sheba’s attention to the Temple grounds again. There, on the porch between the pillars Jachin and Boaz, stood Jehoiada with their new king—Jehoash, only seven years old.

Yahweh had blessed the high priest’s family with two sons now. They stood with their abba and the king, wide-eyed and frightened. Her heart ached at what these little ones had seen in their brief lives—ached with an ima’s heart.
Thank You,
Yahweh, for showing me how to love my children.

A wave of peace flowed over her.
Perhaps now Jerusalem will
enjoy peace as well.
Even as the thought formed, she watched the Temple courts empty like a stream of grain pouring from a great silo. Frenzied, people raced from the Eastern Gate, past the palace grounds, toward the city . . . No, toward Baal’s temple. From Sheba’s vantage on Ima’s balcony, she glimpsed only Baal’s outer courts, but she need not see more. Mattan would die by
the sword he’d sharpened. Renown. Power. Wealth. Could any of these save him now?

Returning her attention to Yahweh’s Temple, Sheba watched as her husband and sons were escorted by Carites down the garden path toward the palace entrance. Zev carried Jehoash proudly in his arms, fulfilling his promise to Hazi.

And I am free.
Sheba’s heart swelled at the thought. Her fears purged. Tears unleashed. Love realized.

Lifting her face to the cloudless sky, Sheba sent a prayer heavenward. “Let the shadow of Jezebel never darken Judah again, O Lord, and may Your kingdom endure forever and ever. Amen.”

The Book That Gave Me the “Feel” of Jezebel

The idea for Jezebel’s seal came from a fabulous book titled
The Jezebel Letters: Religion
and Politics in Ninth-Century Israel
by Eleanor Ferris Beach. The stone seal from the ninth or eighth century BC is an authentic archaeological find, housed at the Israel Museum, Jerusalem. Though Beach presents
The Jezebel Letters
as a novel, the depth of her research, maps, charts, plant and animal life, and so on testifies to the level of her expertise. Ignoring the areas in which Professor Beach veers from scriptural truth, I embraced the amazing insights she offered into the lives of Jezebel and Ahab.

Incredible Insight into Solomon’s Temple

Out of all the research books I’ve seen,
Tabernacle and Temple
by Thomas Newberry is the most thorough explanation of the biblical descriptions and significance of Solomon’s Temple. Every nook and cranny is documented with its corresponding scriptural reference, and then the author comments on its spiritual symbolism. A truly amazing resource—from 1887.

Solomon’s Quarries

A large series of caves lay beneath the city of Jerusalem, causing a variety of legends to arise. Some suggest Solomon quarried the stones for Yahweh’s Temple from the special meleke limestone on which David’s city stands. Solomon’s Temple was destroyed by the Babylonians, and two temples after it were destroyed as well. Jesus stated clearly that no stone of the Temple would be left on top of another (Mark 13:2) after Rome’s destruction in AD 70, so no indisputable proof is likely forthcoming to support or refute the theory of Solomon’s quarries.

Others have deemed the 330-foot-wide and 650-foot-deep cavern “Zedekiah’s Cave,” attaching the legend that King Zedekiah attempted to escape his palace when the Babylonians broke through Jerusalem’s walls (2 Kings 25:4). Again, no evidence has been found to support the story that Zedekiah escaped through a tunnel under his palace and traveled partway to Jericho in the underground maze.

The fact is, the closest point of the current cave excavation is still 105 meters—the length of a football field—from the Temple Mount (what would have been the Most Holy Place). At times like these, I’m thrilled I write fiction! We know from 2 Chronicles 20:5 that King Jehoshaphat built a new courtyard on the Temple grounds, so
what if
 the tunnel reached into Jehoshaphat’s outer courtyard? Well, that makes a fun twist in a novel, eh?
What if . . . ?
I love those words.

Jehoiada’s Age

The high priest’s age—as compared to his young bride—was one of the most delicate details in the story. As my first task in plotting a biblical novel, I create a timeline with the characters, their dates of birth and death, and significant events. It’s fascinating to see who bumps into whom along the way! The kings, queens, and their offspring were so confusing in this story that I overlooked poor Jehoiada in the initial process, neglecting to
factor in the dates of his birth and death until after I’d written the first chapter. Big oops. Here’s why:

King Jehoram was thirty-two when he became king (2 Chron. 21:20), and he died eight years later, at age forty.

Jehoram’s youngest son Hazi became king at age twenty-two (2 Chron. 22:1–2), which means Jehoram would have had his youngest son when he was eighteen.

Those facts are true because they’re stated in Scripture. Now, if Jehosheba was younger than Hazi (as in my story), she would have been a teenager when marrying the high priest.

The high priest Jehoiada died at age 130 (2 Chron. 24:15)—sometime during Hazi’s son Jehoash’s forty-year reign (2 Chron. 24:1). We know that Jehoash reigned for a period of time after Jehoiada died because Jehoash turned away from Yahweh during the latter part of his reign (2 Chron. 24:2, 17–18). So even if Jehoash reigned only five years after Jehoiada’s death, the high priest would have been in his nineties when he married the teenaged Jehosheba. Do you see my dilemma? The truth of Scripture must be told—but I tried to tell it gently because our cultures are so very different.