The Chronicles of the Kings Collection

  “Well, get them in here. I need something for the pain!”

  “First, we must decide what to do about Dinah.”

  “I don’t know . . . I can’t think. What should I do?”

  “Offer her to Asherah, Your Majesty. Make her fulfill her service. Then the goddess will bless you with an heir.”

  “But I’m the king. If another man has her . . .”

  “Of course. You’re right. When he’s finished, the man who chooses her will be killed. And once she provides you with an heir, she will be killed.”

  21

  By the time the captain returned to his guard booth, the beggar was curled up on the floor asleep, dreaming of roasted lamb. The captain shook him with his foot. “Old man! Wake up!”

  The beggar sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. It took him a moment to remember where he was. “King Manasseh . . . the assassin?”

  “Everything is under control for the moment. Are you still sticking with your smuggling story?”

  “I know what I saw, my lord. But surely the smugglers are long gone by now. It’s almost dawn, isn’t it?”

  “Take me there just the same. I want to see for myself if there’s any truth to your story. After tonight, I’m leaving nothing to chance.”

  The sky was growing light by the time they reached the Temple dump, but thick fog still hung like gauze over the valley. Even in the gloom, the muddy footprints in the cave and the caravan trail down the valley road were plain enough for any man to see. The beggar watched smugly as the soldiers inspected the evidence. When they finished, the captain walked over to him.

  “I was telling the truth, wasn’t I?”

  “So it seems. How many times a day do the Levites come down to this dump?”

  “Twice a day. A few hours or so after each sacrifice.”

  “And you didn’t see what it was they were smuggling?”

  “No, sir. Everything was wrapped up in cloths. But I figured it was all different things because they were all different sizes. Do I get my reward now?”

  “Come back to the guardhouse with me, and I’ll see that you’re properly rewarded.”

  Rain clouds hung stubbornly over the city as Joshua watched thousands of pilgrims stream into the Temple courtyard for the final morning convocation. There would be a huge traffic jam when they all departed afterward. The guards couldn’t possibly notice the Levites and their families among so many people.

  Joshua pushed his way through the crowd to the southwest corner of the Temple wall where the priests blew the shofars. Amos was the trumpeter who was sounding the call to worship this morning. Joshua waited at the bottom of the stairs for him to finish.

  “You’ll find a cart and a team of oxen outside the Sheep Gate,” Joshua told him. “They’re yours. For Yael.”

  Amos stared at him in surprise. “How can I thank you for this?”

  “Understand me, Amos. I didn’t do it for you. It’s a gift for Yael.”

  “Then let me repay you—” He reached for his money pouch. Joshua grabbed his wrist. He wanted to break the fat little man’s arm.

  “You even try to pay me, and I’ll throw your silver into the gutter and spit on it!” He let him go again. Amos rubbed his arm.

  “You’re in love with my wife, aren’t you.”

  “The Torah tells me it’s a sin to love another man’s wife. But it doesn’t tell me how I’m supposed to stop loving her. She was meant to be mine, not yours.”

  “I didn’t marry her to spite you, Joshua. We didn’t know you would return for her. I’m sorry—”

  “You’re not sorry, so don’t insult me with your pity. I hate you enough as it is.” Joshua felt the familiar pain swelling inside his chest, suffocating him.

  “The Torah also says it’s a sin to hate,” Amos said quietly.

  “Are you worried that I’ll burn in Sheol for it, Amos? Do me a favor, then—when Yael is safe in Egypt, you can sacrifice the oxen as a sin offering for my soul.”

  Joshua knew he had to get away before he lost his temper. He could already hear the air whistling through his lungs as he strained to breathe. He had to stay calm. Getting upset only made his breathing attacks worse. But he turned to Amos one last time. “Take care of her,” he said softly. Then he hurried away to the south gate to meet Hadad.

  He found him already waiting outside the gate, glancing around nervously. Hadad’s hands were trembling. “Are you all right?” Joshua asked him.

  “A little nervous, that’s all.”

  Joshua realized, too late, that his brother had been right. Hadad lacked the strength of character for such risky business as this. But Joshua had no time to change his plans.

  “I, uh . . . I’ve been watching the royal walkway for a while,” Hadad said. “Prince Amariah hasn’t come up from the palace yet. No one has.” When Hadad looked up at him, Joshua smelled the fruity odor of wine on his breath. He gripped the top of Hadad’s arm from behind, where no one could see, and squeezed.

  “You’ve been drinking, haven’t you?”

  “Ow! Just a little to calm my nerves, I swear! You’re hurting me!”

  “Then you can imagine what I’ll do to you if you mess this up.” After a moment he let him go again.

  As the convocation began and the first strains of music floated toward them from inside the Temple enclosure, Joshua knew that his plan to kidnap Amariah was beginning to unravel.

  “Now what?” Hadad asked. “The sacrifice is starting.”

  “We’ll stay here and watch for Amariah.”

  “What if he doesn’t come?”

  Joshua closed his eyes. “He has to come,” he whispered.

  Dinah awoke with a blinding light shining in her eyes. She tried to sit up and found that her ankles and wrists were shackled. Her entire body ached from the beating the guards gave her. She wished they had killed her.

  As her eyes adjusted to the light, she could see guards with torches unlocking her cell door. She crawled backward away from them until her back was against the rear wall. Only one man entered her cell, a tall man with a halo of bushy hair and startling, peaked brows. His eyes were set too close together, making him appear cross-eyed. The hatred she saw in them made her shiver. He was going to kill her. And he was going to enjoy doing it.

  “Look at you! You’re a mess!” he said. His voice sounded hollow in the tiny cell.

  Dinah looked down at her robe, stained with Manasseh’s blood. “I just pray that he dies,” she murmured.

  He took another step closer and slapped her face with the back of his hand. She felt his ring bite into her cheek. But when she looked at it closely she saw that it wasn’t his ring—it was her father’s. He was also wearing the palace administrator’s sash—Abba’s sash. And Abba’s palace keys were fastened to his shoulder. She knew then that her father was dead, and she felt such a wellspring of grief that nothing else mattered to her anymore. She was ready to die.

  “Get somebody in here to clean her up,” the man shouted. “And get her a clean robe to wear. She can’t go out like this.”

  Dinah sat numbly as they undid her shackles. Someone washed the blood off her face and hands. Someone else stripped off her clothes and dressed her in a clean robe. Then the man wearing Abba’s ring put a garland of string on her head like a crown.

  They led her out of the cell and up the steep stairs with a guard walking on either side of her. Dinah was surprised to see that it was already morning. The night in the cell had gone quickly. The cross-eyed man led the way through the palace hallways, past the throne room. The huge doors were closed. She would be given no trial before they executed her.

  Dinah was still calm as they left the palace and walked into the rear courtyard, passing Ahaz’s clock tower. But instead of leading her toward the Damascus Gate and the king’s execution pit, they led her up the royal walkway toward the Temple. She could hear the distant strains of music as they drew nearer.

  Above her head the sky was filled with billowi
ng gray storm clouds, stained red from the dawning sun. The higher she climbed, the wider the vista of sky grew and the deeper the red that smudged the clouds like blood. Dinah knew it was a sign from God. The blood of Manasseh’s victims had reached to the heavens. Her son’s blood. Abba’s blood. Her own. God had seen everything Manasseh had done. And God would pay back all his sins in full.

  When Joshua saw the distant figures emerge through the palace doors and start up the royal walkway, he nudged Hadad. “Look. Here they come.” He watched them draw closer and closer. Then frustration defeated him when he realized it wasn’t Amariah but a woman. She passed just fifty feet from Joshua, and suddenly he felt the cold shock of viewing a ghost.

  “God of Abraham—it can’t be!” He leaned against the wall as his knees went weak.

  “What is it, Joshua? What’s wrong?” Hadad asked.

  “That’s my sister! That’s Dinah!” The courtyard started to tilt in front of him. Hadad grabbed him to keep him from falling over.

  “Joshua! Don’t faint on me!” He pulled a flask of wine from inside his cloak and held it to Joshua’s lips. “Here, take a drink.”

  Joshua swallowed one mouthful, then another and waited for the earth to stop spinning.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I think so.” But he had to double over with his hands on his thighs, straining to pull air into his lungs. “Where are they taking her?”

  “Are you strong enough to walk? We can follow them and see.”

  Joshua had no sensation of his feet touching the ground as they hurried into the Temple grounds behind the guards. Dinah was still alive! After all this time! It was her! He could tell by the way she walked and by the proud tilt of her head. But why was her hair unpinned? And why was she wearing a garland of string on her head?

  Most of the assembly had crowded into the two main courtyards for the last Passover convocation, but the guards skirted the crowd, leading Dinah around to the other side of the Temple grounds.

  “They’re heading for Asherah’s precinct,” Hadad said.

  “No, she would never . . . Dinah wouldn’t . . .” Joshua stumbled and nearly fell. Hadad shook him.

  “Joshua, look at her! She isn’t here because she wants to be. They’re making her do this.”

  Joshua forced himself to look and saw that Hadad was right. “We have to rescue her!”

  “How? They’re guarding her. And what about Prince Amariah?”

  Joshua raked his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know. . . . I have to think!” His mind raced in a dozen directions at once. He couldn’t seem to focus it. He only knew that by some miracle his sister Dinah was still alive and that he had to save her. He struggled against panic to concentrate as an enormous weight settled on his chest, pushing the air from his lungs. “If you bought her, Hadad . . . you could take her into one of those booths, right?”

  “Are you crazy? They’re guarding her! I’d be trapped in there!”

  “How long could you stay inside with her?”

  “I don’t know . . . a couple of hours. Why? What are you going to do? How will you get us out again?”

  “I’m not sure, yet. Just stay in there until the next watch. I’ll figure something out by the time the guard changes. Listen for it.”

  “This is insane!”

  Joshua unsheathed his knife and slipped it to Hadad. “Could you use this if you had to?”

  “I . . . I guess so.”

  “Don’t guess, think! Your life depends on it! And Dinah’s life! Are you prepared to use a weapon?”

  Hadad exhaled. “Yes.”

  “Good. I’ll create some sort of a diversion. That will be your signal to run. Get Dinah out of the city and take her to Moab.”

  Hadad nodded, then turned and hurried away before Joshua could think to ask him if he needed money to buy her. He held his breath as he watched Hadad walk across the cobblestones and enter Asherah’s sacred precinct. Hadad seemed to take his time weaving between the ropes, appraising the women as if he had all the time in the world. Then he stopped in front of Dinah. He reached into his money pouch in slow motion and threw something shiny into her lap. The guards grabbed her arms and hauled her to her feet. Hadad led the way inside the empty booth. The guards pushed Dinah into the booth behind him and slammed the door.

  Just then a shout went up from the crowd in the courtyard as the priest laid the offering on the fire. The Levites began to sing the closing hymn. In a few more minutes the pilgrims would start their journey home, and the priests and their families would make their flight to safety.

  Joshua leaned against the wall that surrounded the Temple Mount and closed his eyes. O God, help me! Please! I don’t know what to do!

  As the door to the booth slammed shut, Hadad felt as if his heart would tear from his chest in fear. He was trapped! Then he saw Dinah backing away from him, whimpering in terror.

  “No . . . no . . . please!”

  “Dinah, listen to me,” he whispered urgently. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m here with your brother Joshua. We’re going to help you escape.” He could see that his words hadn’t penetrated her terror, so he repeated them. “I’m not going to touch you, Dinah. Joshua and I have come to rescue you.”

  Dinah froze. He wondered if she had finally heard him. She trembled all over, as if she stood naked in a freezing gale. “Joshua’s here?”

  “Yes. He’s outside in the courtyard.” As his eyes adjusted to the dim light in the booth, Hadad saw that her face was bruised and swollen from a beating. But even disfigured, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She had her mother’s thick sable hair, her father’s dark, soulful eyes. Her slender body was as delicate as a fragile wildflower compared to his treelike frame. “I’m going to get you out of here,” he said again.

  “How?” she whispered. “They’ll never let you out of this booth alive. I tried to kill him.”

  “Kill who?”

  “King Manasseh.”

  Hadad groped behind him for the edge of the bed and sat down. “What did you say?”

  “Manasseh killed our son. He deserved to die!”

  “You’re King Manasseh’s wife?”

  “His concubine. And his prisoner.”

  Hadad closed his eyes. He had walked into a trap. Joshua would never be able to get them out of here alive. He had the sudden, panicky thought that his life was over already and he had wasted it. All those hours he couldn’t account for, lying drunk in his own vomit—what had been the use of it all? The irony of his situation made him want to laugh and weep. This was the first noble deed he had ever attempted in his life, and now he was going to die for it.

  He heard a noise and looked up. Dinah had covered her face. She was weeping. If he was terrified, how must she feel? Without thinking, he stood and drew her into his arms to comfort her. She leaned against him and sobbed. “Shh . . . it’s all right, Dinah. It’s all right.”

  “Abba is dead, isn’t he?”

  “Yes,” he said softly. “Your father died a year ago. But the others are all safe—your mother, your sister, and brothers. They’re all living in Moab.”

  “Joshua came back . . . for me?”

  Hadad didn’t see how the lie could hurt anyone. “Yes,” he said. “And he’s going to get us both out of here. We just have to sit tight a little while, that’s all.”

  Hadad could feel her entire body shivering against his own. He took off his outer robe and wrapped it around her, then he led her to the bed and sat down beside her. She looked so forlorn as she huddled next to him that he took her in his arms again. “Do you mind if I hold you?” he asked. “I think we need each other.”

  “I . . . I’m grateful,” she said as she settled against his chest. “I don’t even know your name.”

  His name. All his life, it had been so important to Hadad to have a name. Now he would die trying to earn one. But as he held Lord Eliakim’s daughter in his arms, offering her comfort before she died, he knew that
his grandfather would be proud of him. “My name is Hadad,” he said. “I’m Lord Shebna’s grandson.”

  Joshua fought his way through the crowd while they poured out of the Temple courtyard as if trying to swim upstream through a powerful current. The sacrifice was over. Neither Amariah nor King Manasseh had attended it. He would have to concoct a different plan. Joshua guessed from the angle of the sun that it was not quite the third hour. The guard would change at the sixth hour—noon. That didn’t give him much time.

  He found Asher and the Levites who had conducted the service in a Temple side chamber, changing into street clothes.

  “Hey! You’re not supposed to be in here!” Asher shouted when he saw him. “This is sacred—”

  “Asher, it doesn’t matter. None of this is sacred ground anymore, remember?” Joshua felt a rush of pity for these men as they vainly tried to cling to the only way of life they had ever known. He understood how difficult it was for them to let go of it—he had struggled with the changes in his life for almost a year. “Please, Asher, I need your help.”

  “I’ll have nothing to do with kidnapping Amariah.”

  “That’s not what I’m asking you to do. Look, I’ve run into a problem. None of you should stay until the evening sacrifice as we planned. You all need to get out of Jerusalem right away.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “I don’t have time to explain. Please . . . please help me.” He deliberately drew one deep breath then another, releasing them slowly. He had to remain calm. He was not suffocating.

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Find one of the palace guards and lure him in here. Make sure you come through the door first.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then all of you get out of here!”

  Asher stared at him for a long moment, then hurried from the room. Joshua picked up the priest’s heavy golden censer and stood beside the door with his back to the wall. When the other Levites realized what he was about to do they turned their backs on him and quickly finished dressing.