by Mesu Andrews
King Hoshea popped a date in his mouth and leaned back on his elbow. “I thought you’d be in a better mood since you’re leaving for home today, King Ahaz. Three of our temple priestesses are nursing broken ribs from your rages. What would it take to make the king of Judah forgive Israel for our trespasses?”
A slow smile brightened Abba’s face. “I want a tenth of Israel’s harvest.”
King Hoshea laughed. “And I want to sire the goddess Asherah’s next son, but both of these things are impossible.” Sobering, he leaned across the table. “I’ll share three percent of the temple tax from my treasury.”
“Five,” Abba said.
“Four.”
“Done!” Abba slammed his hand on the table, and Hezi jumped like a maiden.
Both kings laughed. “King Ahaz, you have a fine son. His only fault is kindness.” King Hoshea lifted his goblet of spiced wine, eyes fixed on Abba.
“Not to worry,” Abba said. “I’ll break him of that.”
The two regents laughed again as if they were friends, while Hezi tried not to reveal his disdain. Had King Hoshea been truthful about anything during the past two months? He’d told Hezi he would restore worship of Yahweh to the people of Israel. Did he say it to win favor with Judah’s crown prince or because he believed it was best for Israel? Hezi could only hope and pray that—whatever the motivation—King Hoshea would do as he said.
Abba guzzled to the last drop of wine in his glass. “Come, Hezekiah. We have time for one last training session before we leave for home.”
“Yes, Abba!” Hezi stuffed more bread and goat cheese in his mouth and jumped to his feet.
“May I join you?” King Hoshea asked.
Abba’s eyes narrowed. “Of course. We’ll meet you in the courtyard after we retrieve battle gear from our chambers.” The kings nodded in agreement, and Hezi moved to brace Abba’s arm. He slapped away his son’s help and rocked to his feet, marching ahead of him out the door.
The guest wing of Samaria’s palace wasn’t as large as the third floor of Solomon’s palace in Jerusalem, but King Ahaz still needed the palace stewards to guide him. Hezi watched Judah’s king weave as he walked, realizing he’d negotiated while wine still muddled his mind. How effective could his abba be if his mind was actually clear? How much more effective could he be if he turned to Yahweh? Before this journey together, Hezi hadn’t realized his abba’s frailty. He’d never seen King Ahaz, the man—his fear, his weakness, or his underlying drive to succeed. Master Isaiah’s prophecy came screaming back: “If you do not stand firm in your faith, you will not stand at all.”
His abba was barely standing.
Leaving Abba in his chamber, Hezi walked farther down the hall, entered his chamber, and donned his training armor. He opened his travel trunk and strapped on the sword Abba had given him when they began their journey. Hurrying out the door, he found Abba waiting in full battle armor. Hezi’s face must have registered surprise.
“When an enemy is eager to play with swords, we must make sure our swords are sharpest.” Abba threw a silk scarf in the air and drew his sword, letting the scarf fall across its blade. The scarf fell to the floor in two pieces. Abba chuckled. “If she had wanted her scarf returned, she shouldn’t have left it in my chamber.” He started walking toward the courtyard but looked over his shoulder. “You mustn’t tell your ima—I mean about your sword training. She’ll say you’re too young.”
Hezekiah hurried to catch up. “I’m almost twelve. I start military training next year.”
Abba looked at Hezekiah from beneath bushy red brows. “Yes, say it just like that if she ever finds out.” Despite Abba’s drinking, his carousing, his weight—he was still one of Judah’s best swordsmen, and Hezi was honored by his personal instruction.
“Thank you, Abba.” Hezi kept his eyes forward. Abba hated gushing.
Judah’s king walked on as if he hadn’t heard.
“And thank you for joining King Hoshea and me for a meal this morn—”
Abba turned abruptly, gathering Hezekiah’s robe in his fist. “Joining King Hoshea and you for a meal? Don’t think because you’ve become friendly with King Hoshea that you’ve secured my throne!”
Hezekiah shook his head violently. “I didn’t. I don’t. I only meant—”
“You are my son!” He pulled Hezekiah into a crushing hug. “The only good thing I’ve ever done.”
Confused and terrified, Hezekiah wasn’t sure whether he’d been reprimanded or shown affection. But he was certain of his abba’s tortured soul, and for that Hezekiah returned the embrace. He whispered against his abba’s ear, “I am and will always be Hezekiah ben Ahaz.”
13
“The multitude of your sacrifices—
what are they to me?” says the LORD.
“I have more than enough of burnt offerings,
of rams and the fat of fattened animals….
They have become a burden to me;
I am weary of bearing them.”
—Isaiah 1:11, 14
Whispers of the king’s return first came three days ago with traveling merchants. Then the royal heralds shouted in Jerusalem’s streets late last night, “The king returns tomorrow!”
Master Isaiah canceled class for today. The market was closed. Military training ceased. Everyone was expected to line the streets of Jerusalem and welcome home a king they hated.
I didn’t sleep a wink. Yaira noticed this morning when Master and I delivered supplies to the prophets. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “You look awful.”
Master Isaiah whispered as he walked past, “Hezi comes home today.”
She muffled a squeal, and I joined her. “What will you wear?” she asked. “Oh, I wish I could braid your hair with a pretty red ribbon.”
“Mistress Aya wants all of us to wear our best robes. We must appear well supplied on Master Isaiah’s allowance as royal tutor.”
“Did the queen send Hezi your letters as she promised?”
“I don’t know.” My stomach flip-flopped. “He never wrote back.”
Too soon it was time to leave the caves. Master Isaiah and I crept through the darkness, keeping one hand on the wall to guide us. He hoisted me through the cellar floor into Jashub’s waiting arms and then climbed onto the cool tiles. I hurried to help the women in the kitchen, hoping to stay busy and speed Hezi’s return. We ate our morning meal; Dinah fixed my hair; I carded wool. The sun moved like a slug across the sky. Where was the king’s procession?
After our midday meal, the trumpets blared, and I thought I might jump out of my skin. I raced to the courtyard gate, but Mistress called out, “We’re walking like royalty to greet royalty, my girl, not running like a horse in a race.” Sometimes it was hard to remember that we were a part of David’s royal house. The master and mistress were so kind and generous compared to other royalty. However, certain customs were as absolute as the Law of Moses. An eight-year-old girl must walk.
We stood outside Master’s courtyard to watch the royal procession enter the gate of the Upper City. A contingent of soldiers came first, riding past the noblemen’s houses on their right, guiding their battle-scarred horses straight toward us. I scooted closer to Master Isaiah, still unnerved by the clanging of soldiers’ swords.
Next came six of the king’s royal guard followed by the grand carriage with its golden wheels and purple sashes. I tried to peek inside when it halted at the palace stairs, but the curtains were drawn across the windows.
While looking down the street, I realized the other noblemen standing outside their courtyards weren’t cheering the king’s return. Shouldn’t people celebrate when a king comes home?
When the door of the royal carriage swung open and King Ahaz emerged, I watched the waiting advisors and their families. All were dressed in fine robes, like we were, but their smiles and modest applause were as false as the floor in our wine cellar. Mistress tugged on my arm, and I bowed with the rest of the household. I lifted my eyes in time
to see the king straighten his robe, lift his chin, and begin a lonely walk up the palace stairs.
The crowd quickly dispersed, but my focus remained on the golden coach. A little gasp escaped when Hezi stepped out. My friend was taller, his shoulders wider. He wore a golden band around his head. Suddenly, I felt as if I didn’t know the boy—the prince—who stood at the palace steps. He waved at the crowd and cast a glance over his shoulder in our direction. My heart raced. I lifted my hand to wave, but he turned away and caught up with King Ahaz.
He disappeared into the palace, and I felt utterly defeated. Had he seen me and ignored my greeting? Or did he hope to see me but feel compelled to join his abba before our eyes met? Either way, Hezi had no time for the girl he once knew.
Baby Maher slid his chubby hand into mine. His smile warmed my heart and refocused my attention. “Come, little one. Let’s feed the doves.”
The rest of the household scattered to various projects and pastimes. Seldom did we get a day to do as we pleased. Jashub had promised to copy one of Master Isaiah’s prophecies to a new scroll. Kadmiel planned to finish construction on Mistress Aya’s new loom. Dinah, Leah, and the mistress hoped to dye all the thread we’d spun during the past week. Master Isaiah followed Maher and me to the dovecote. The master had helped me carve five new holes into the wall, each the size of a man’s fist, since my doves were having babies and liked to nest in our garden. I helped Maher break a few dried crusts of bread to the proper size for our birds to eat.
Master Isaiah joined us, standing a camel length from the wall, tossing the crumbs to the packed earth and watching the birds descend on them. “Don’t rush at the birds, Maher,” he said. “Turtle doves are shy. We mustn’t frighten them.”
“Watch me, Maher.” I settled him on a stool beside me. Then, holding a bread crumb in my hand, I lifted my forearm and began imitating the dove’s song. Master and Maher were utterly still as my favorite palm dove descended to my arm. I whispered to her and fed her two more crumbs before Maher came bounding up and frightened her back to her nest.
He was so excited; I couldn’t be angry with him. “Ishma, I want to do that!” He grabbed a bread crumb and started hooting, “Here bird! Come to me, bird!”
I heard laughter and found the whole household standing at the doorway. My cheeks burned at the thought of everyone seeing me call to my dove. Did they think my cooing was silly?
Mistress Aya stopped laughing and came to me. “You have a rare gift, Ishma. Doves don’t trust everyone. Pigeons are easily trained and submit to anyone who feeds them, but doves…” She tilted my chin to look in my eyes. “Doves are tenderhearted, my girl. A rare breed.” She hugged me. “Like you.”
My throat was too tight to speak. I hugged her, hoping she knew I loved her, and kept my words simple. “Thank you.”
Master Isaiah laid his hand on my shoulder, and Mistress released me to face him. “How would you feel about helping me clean our classroom today? I don’t suppose Prince Hezekiah realizes class was canceled. We wouldn’t want him to arrive at an empty classroom.”
I bowed my head, suddenly unnerved at the possibility of seeing Hezi. “I’m happy to serve, Master Isaiah.”
“Go change your robe, dear.” Mistress gave me a gentle nudge.
I trudged to the dressing chamber now shared by Dinah, Leah, and me. In it we kept all our clothes, linens, combs, and accessories. We slept in the adjoining second chamber. Choosing my worn school robe from the peg on the wall, I wondered for the first time if Hezi would think it plain. Would he think me plain? What if Hezi thought me boring? He’d met the horrible King Tiglath-Pileser. He’d lived within the walls of Samaria’s palace—a city where I was denied entry even as a captive. Was there anything Hezi could like about me after all he’d seen and experienced?
“Ishma, let’s go.” Master Isaiah’s deep voice echoed through the residence hallway.
“Coming!” I donned the plain robe, tied the belt, and stepped into the hall. If Hezi thought me plain, I must impress him with all I’d learned while he was gone.
Master Isaiah was waiting in the courtyard with his shoulder bag. We said good-bye to Mistress Aya and Maher, whose backs were bent tending the garden.
I was deep in thought when Master’s voice startled me. “You haven’t said a word. What’s bothering you?”
I felt silly for all my worrying, but perhaps the master would know. “Do you think this journey changed Hezi? Will he still like me?”
Master stopped and knelt beside me. “Of course he’ll still like you, but I’m sure the things Hezekiah saw changed him. We must ask our friend good questions today, Ishma, and be good listeners.”
Questions weren’t so hard. “I can ask questions.”
“Good girl.” He stood and put his arm around my shoulders as we resumed our hurried pace to the classroom. Turning right, down the final hallway, we saw one lonely student waiting by the door.
Eliakim turned at the sound of our footsteps, but his excitement died when he saw us. “I had hoped to find Hezekiah here,” he said. “All military training was canceled for the king’s return. I have time to talk today but won’t when training resumes tomorrow.” Eliakim looked at me and then at the floor. I could tell he wanted to speak with the master privately.
“I can wait here in the hall if you two want to talk in the classroom.”
Master Isaiah nodded and followed Eliakim across the threshold. I tried not to listen. I covered my ears, closed my eyes, and slid down the wall, sitting on the cool marble floor. I couldn’t stand it. I uncovered one ear and heard just a little. Eliakim said something about his grueling training schedule, fear of his and Hezi’s friendship changing because their worlds had changed. Eliakim was feeling some of my fears.
“What are you doing out here?” Hezekiah ben Ahaz stood over me, the sun casting a glow above his head that made him look like an angel.
I sprang to my feet and straightened my robe, my belt, my hair. If only I could straighten my words. “I was…I’m just…Eliakim is…”
He laughed. “I’d hoped to see you today and thank you for your letters.” His neck and cheeks got splotchy red, and then we both stood awkwardly silent in the doorway.
“Hez!” Eliakim nearly tackled him with a hug. “You’re here!”
Master Isaiah followed, eyes misty. “Welcome home, Hezekiah. We’ve missed you.”
Eliakim pulled Hezi into the classroom. Master Isaiah joined them, but I hesitated a moment. I had the strange feeling I needed permission to join them. I didn’t know why. I’d always felt comfortable with Eliakim and Hezi before.
“Tell us about Damascus, Hez.” Eliakim sat on one of the four cushions the master had placed on the floor. “What were the Assyrians like? My commander says they’re the most disciplined army in the world.”
Hezi’s face lost its color, and he turned to Master Isaiah, eyes pleading. “I was hoping you could first tell me about the class. What have you been teaching?” He looked at Eliakim and tugged on his leather breast piece. “I want to know about your training. Do you have to wear this all the time?”
“No. Our commander ordered us to wear partial armor to greet the procession.” Eliakim waved away the question. “None of this is nearly as interesting as your journey. Come on, Hez.”
I sat on my cushion but scooted close to Master Isaiah. Finally, Hezi looked at me. “And what about you, little Ishma?”
Little Ishma? He may have sprouted a few hairs on his chin, but he wasn’t suddenly so old, and I was not little Ishma. “I believe your nose is larger than when you left,” I said.
He grinned. “Well, at least I have a nose. Yours looks like Yahweh put a button there instead.”
It felt good to tease. Normal. But his smile died too quickly. Master Isaiah noticed too. “Do you want to talk about your trip, Hezekiah? I’ve canceled class today. No one will interrupt us.”
His cheeks and neck got pink, and his eyes found his sandals. “I can tell you some of
it, but I don’t want to tell all of it in front of Ishma.”
Why not tell me? I started to fuss, but Master Isaiah lifted his hand. His eyebrows drew together, warning me to keep silent. I did. Even though I wanted to argue.
“Tell us only what you think is appropriate.”
Hezi could decide what to tell as long as he included why he looked so sad. He began with the journey to Damascus, the Assyrians, the torture. Eliakim’s excitement dwindled, and my stomach started to roll. Hezi stared into the distance as he told the stories, his eyes filling with tears. He would wipe them away, and new tears would come. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t even have questions like Master Isaiah suggested. I could only listen, and even that was hard.
Hezi blinked a few times, as if waking from a dream, and then turned to Master Isaiah. “I learned a lot about Abba and why he worships other gods. He saw Assyria’s brutality and decided their god, Rimmon, was greater than any other because Assyria’s army has had greater success than any other. So he had plans drawn up to duplicate Rimmon’s altar here in Jerusalem.”
“An altar to Rimmon in Jerusalem?” Master Isaiah sounded both angry and surprised. “Will he fill the whole Valley of Hinnom with pagan altars?”
Hezi looked at him, equally confused. “The new altar was to be built in Yahweh’s Temple. How could you not have seen it when you attended sacrifices?”
Isaiah dragged his hands through his hair. “Hezekiah, I haven’t attended the sacrifices for months.”
“What? Why?” Hezi’s voice rose. “If you’d attended the daily sacrifices, you could have talked to Uriah, maybe reasoned with him—”
“Yahweh spoke to me a few weeks after you left for Damascus and said, ‘I’ve had more than enough of burnt offerings, of rams and the fat of fattened animals.’ He even said, ‘Stop bringing meaningless offerings! Your incense is detestable to me.’ So I haven’t stepped into the Temple courts since that day.”