The Chronicles of the Kings Collection

  “No, my lord. King Manasseh and his entourage arrived in Judean territory earlier this morning. They are on their way to Jerusalem right now. They are not far behind me, in fact.”

  “That’s not possible!” Joshua shouted. “King Manasseh is dead!”

  The messenger backed up a step. “He’s not dead, my lord. The Assyrians escorted him as far as the border. I saw him myself. I talked to him.”

  “Was he still in chains?” Amariah asked, his voice a whisper. The messenger shook his head.

  “He was wearing royal robes, my lord. You’ll see for yourself. King Manasseh will be arriving shortly. I was told to run ahead—”

  “NO!” Joshua’s anguished cry was deafening. “God of Abraham, no! No . . . NO!”

  Amariah closed his eyes. “You’re excused,” he told the messenger. “Go tell the other servants to get everything ready.”

  “This can’t be true . . . it can’t be!” Joshua couldn’t catch his breath.

  “I’m afraid it might be,” Amariah said quietly. “Manasseh was arrested for treason, but he wasn’t guilty, remember? The Assyrians must have found that out.”

  “O God of Abraham, how could you do this to me again!” Joshua collapsed to the floor and buried his face in his hands. “How could you?” The sound of his bitter cries filled the room.

  When the anguish of his soul was spent, Joshua looked up at Amariah. “You realize that we’re traitors once again. For taking control of the government when no one else would . . . for wanting to rid the country of idolatry, for wanting to turn people’s hearts back to God. . . . We’re traitors! He’ll execute both of us.”

  “Not if we leave before Manasseh gets here.”

  Joshua shook his head. “I’m not running anymore. I’m tired of this game. I’m tired of working for a God who seems to be on my enemy’s side. Let Manasseh kill me and get it over with.” He covered his face again.

  “What about Nathan and Miriam?”

  “What?” Numb with despair, Joshua didn’t comprehend Amariah’s words.

  “Your wife and son are in danger. Do you want Manasseh to kill them, too?”

  How many years ago had he escaped with Nathan and Miriam? Nathan had been a skinny urchin, brazenly challenging the king’s soldiers. Miriam had helped him escape the second time, too, after the explosion at the Temple. He remembered how she had unpinned her hair and tossed it over her shoulder as she courageously entered Asherah’s booth. He and Miriam had escaped Manasseh’s soldiers a third time, after the abortive assassination attempt. The thought of doing it a fourth time overwhelmed him.

  “How could God put us through this all over again?” he questioned, struggling to breathe. “How could He let Manasseh go free when He had a chance to punish him? How could God let such an evil man parade back into town to carry on with his wickedness? I don’t understand! I just . . . I . . .”

  “Joshua, we have to get out of here before Manasseh returns.”

  He shook his head. “Do me a favor. Take Miriam and Nathan back to Egypt for me.”

  “You know Miriam isn’t going to budge one inch without you. Now get up! We need to go!” Amariah took Joshua’s arm and hauled him to his feet. They hurried through the main palace doors and found Nathan working outside.

  “Abba! What is it? What’s wrong?” he said when he saw Joshua.

  “My brother has returned,” Amariah told him.

  “You mean . . . King Manasseh?”

  Amariah nodded. “We’ve got to get out of the country. Do you know where Joel is?”

  “He went to Anathoth to see what’s become of his family’s property. He didn’t expect to be back until this evening. Do you want me to go get him?”

  “No!” Joshua shouted. “How would you ever find him? No, Nathan, I want you to get out of Judah, now! You have a wife and a child to think about.”

  Nathan seemed to study him for a long moment before saying calmly, “I’m not leaving without you, Abba. And we can’t leave without Uncle Joel, either.”

  Joshua couldn’t think what to do. The terrible injustice of Manasseh’s release from prison so overwhelmed him that he lacked the will to fight. Nathan took his elbow and they started hurrying away from the palace.

  “Abba, listen. I don’t think we’ll be in danger if we all wait at your house until Uncle Joel comes back tonight. King Manasseh won’t know that you’re here—hardly anyone does.”

  “The elders know,” Joshua said. “And all the palace servants.”

  “But they’ve collaborated with us this past month,” Amariah said. “If they reported us, they would be just as guilty as we are in Manasseh’s eyes.”

  “How can Manasseh be back?” Joshua said with a moan. “This can’t be true. God of Abraham, please let this be a mistake!” He was finding it more and more difficult to breathe.

  “Nathan’s right,” Amariah said. “We’ll probably be safe at your house for now. Neither the elders nor the servants know where you live. We can plan our escape while we wait for Joel.”

  “God of Abraham, why?” Joshua wanted to tear his clothes in grief, but he lacked the strength. “Why is God doing this to me again? Haven’t I had enough of that man? Isn’t it enough that he ruined my life?”

  “Abba, shh . . . people are staring.”

  “I don’t care.” They reached one of the city’s main intersections and had to push their way through the huge crowd jamming the streets. Excitement charged the air, as if the people awaited a momentous event. Joshua halted.

  “What’s going on here?” he asked a bystander. “What’s everyone waiting for?”

  “King Manasseh has returned. We’re gathering to watch his procession.”

  Joshua stared, dumbfounded. It was true. His enemy had returned. How could God do this to him?

  He swayed on his feet, and Nathan gripped his arm. “Let’s get out of here, Abba,” he whispered urgently.

  “No. I want to see him.”

  “Abba, are you crazy?”

  “He’ll never recognize me after all these years. Especially in a crowd this huge.”

  Nathan turned to Amariah. “Can you please talk some sense into my father?”

  “I want to see Manasseh, too,” Amariah said quietly. “I think we’ll be all right.”

  Nathan groaned. “At least take your eye patch off, Abba, so you’ll be less noticeable.”

  Joshua untied the leather thong and tucked it under his belt, silently cursing himself for not wearing his dagger. If he had a weapon, he could disembowel his enemy before anyone stopped him. As he considered jogging home for it, the trumpets suddenly announced the king’s arrival.

  Deafening cheers rang in Joshua’s ears as the people welcomed King Manasseh home. The sound even drowned out the clatter of hoofbeats as the Assyrian chariots swept the king into Jerusalem. Joshua was unaware of his own bitter groaning or that he was gnashing his teeth until he felt Nathan’s comforting hand on his shoulder. When the first few chariots came into view, Joshua strained to see above the crowd. The drivers were Assyrian, and the procession resembled a royal escort, but he couldn’t see Manasseh—the passengers were all elderly, white-haired men. Joshua searched for the king’s dark hair and arrogant face in vain.

  “Where’s Manasseh?” he asked Amariah. “Can you see him?”

  “No. These must be his officials. Maybe he’s at the end of the procession.” But after the last chariot rolled past, Amariah stared at Joshua in disbelief. “We must have missed him and didn’t recognize him!”

  “They were all much too old,” Joshua said. “Maybe it was a rumor after all.” The mob surged forward to follow the chariots, and Joshua felt himself being swept along with it.

  “Please, let’s go home, Abba,” Nathan begged.

  “Not yet. I have to see him.” He took Nathan’s arm so he wouldn’t lose him in the crowd and grabbed onto the back of Amariah’s belt. The procession didn’t stop at the palace but continued up the hill to the Temple. In the dist
ance, Joshua saw the chariots halt outside the gates. The white-haired officials disembarked. “Come on, let’s hurry,” he told the others.

  “We’re not going inside the Temple grounds, are we?” Nathan asked.

  “We won’t stay for any pagan ceremonies; I just want to see him. He’ll be on the royal platform.” Joshua pushed his way forward, towing the others through the gate, into the Court of the Gentiles. When they reached the main courtyard, it was so tightly packed they could go no farther. Joshua craned his neck and caught a glimpse of the royal platform just as one of the old men mounted it.

  “That’s Manasseh!” Amariah cried.

  Joshua stared at a thin, stoop-shouldered man with white hair and a grizzled beard. “No, it can’t—” Suddenly the old man lifted his head and thrust out his chin in a gesture that was unmistakably Manasseh’s. Joshua felt as if he’d been stabbed in the gut.

  “O God of Abraham, why did you let him come back?” he moaned. “Why?”

  “Abba, shh . . .” Nathan begged.

  Gradually the cheering died away and a hush whispered through the crowd as they waited for King Manasseh to speak. Joshua had to hold his breath in order to hear him above the sound of his own labored breathing.

  Manasseh faced the Temple sanctuary and raised his hands high in the air. “‘Hear, O Israel,’” he said in a shaking voice. “‘Yahweh is God—Yahweh alone! Love Yahweh your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength.’” Manasseh dropped to his knees. Then he fell prostrate before the astonished crowd. The sound of his loud weeping resounded in the silent courtyard.

  “I don’t believe what I’m seeing . . .” Amariah whispered.

  It seemed to Joshua that a long time passed before Manasseh finally stood again. It was longer still before he could speak. The stunned crowd was utterly still, waiting.

  “We’ve all been greatly deceived,” Manasseh said. He gestured to the four-faced image in front of the sanctuary. “These are idols. Worthless idols! I want them out of Yahweh’s Temple! And I want anyone who still worships them to get out, as well!” He sagged, as if his strength had given way. His officials caught him to keep him from falling off the platform, then hustled him down the royal walkway to the palace.

  They all stood frozen for a long moment before Amariah spoke. “What do you make of that?” he asked.

  “I don’t believe any of it.” Joshua closed his eyes, too weak and dizzy to think. The crowds buffeted him as they filed from the courtyard, but he couldn’t move.

  “I believe it,” Amariah said quietly. “I’m going to go down to the palace to see him.”

  “Are you out of your mind?” Joshua cried. “It was your fault the Assyrians arrested him! He’ll murder you!”

  “I don’t think so. Whatever happened to him in Babylon changed him, and not just on the outside. He was genuinely weeping just now. And he recited the Shema. He never would have done that the last time I saw him.”

  “Why not wait a few days,” Nathan said, “and see if he’s really sincere about cleaning up the idolatry?”

  Amariah shook his head. “I think I should go now, while he’s still overcome with the joy of being home. If I’m not back by the time Joel arrives tonight, leave for Egypt without me.”

  “What am I supposed to tell Dinah and your sons?” Joshua said angrily. “That you foolishly committed suicide? That you walked right into Manasseh’s arms and let him execute you?”

  “I honestly don’t think that will happen,” he said, “but I’m willing to take my chances.” Amariah turned, and before either of them could stop him, he ran across the nearly empty courtyard and followed Manasseh down the royal walkway.

  Amariah caught up with his brother inside the palace. Manasseh stood in the middle of the spacious throne room, gazing around in wonder—much as Amariah himself had done when he first returned.

  “Everything looks the same,” Manasseh murmured. “Who has been taking care of things for me while I was gone?”

  “I have,” Amariah said. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  Manasseh whirled around. He gasped when he saw his brother and staggered backward, nearly falling over.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. It’s me—Amariah.”

  “I . . . I heard your voice . . . and I thought . . . for a minute, I thought . . . You sound so much like Abba!”

  Amariah could no longer contain his joy at seeing his brother. He ran forward and clasped Manasseh in his arms. He could feel his brother’s body trembling. Manasseh felt pitifully thin, his embrace fervent but weak in return.

  “Thank God, thank God,” Manasseh wept. “I’ve prayed for this. . . . I’ve prayed that I would see you again. That I would have the chance to ask your forgiveness.”

  “I can’t believe that you’re alive! And that you’ve come home again!”

  “Yes, I’m home. I’ve walked these halls so many times in my mind that it still feels like I’m dreaming.” Manasseh seemed badly shaken.

  Pity and love welled up inside Amariah as he helped his brother to his throne. “Here, you’d better sit down. Are you all right? Is there anything I can do?”

  Manasseh looked up at him with tears in his eyes. “I know I have no right to ask this after all that I’ve done to you, my brother . . .” He rested his right hand on the seat beside him. “But I’ll need your help if I’m ever going to undo all the wrong that I’ve done. Would you take your rightful place here, alongside me?”

  Joshua stood in the open doorway of his rented house, staring into the street as if he could make Amariah appear by the force of his will. Joel had returned from Anathoth an hour ago, but there was still no sign of Amariah and no reason to delay leaving Jerusalem any longer.

  “Abba, Prince Amariah isn’t coming back,” Nathan said. “Uncle Joel and I both think we should leave before they close the gates for the night.”

  “Why didn’t I stop him?” Joshua asked. “This is my fault. I never should have let him go down to the palace.”

  “We’ve been over this ground a dozen times, Abba. Neither one of us could have stopped the prince. He was determined to go.”

  “But what am I going to tell Dinah? One of the reasons I came on this trip was to protect Amariah.”

  Miriam hobbled up beside him and leaned against his chest. “Maybe we should wait until tomorrow to leave. It’s late, and we’ll probably be just as safe here tonight as we will be out on the roads after dark.”

  Joshua drew a ragged breath and unconsciously clenched his fists. “Why isn’t Manasseh in prison, Miriam? Why isn’t he dead!”

  “I was so afraid something like this would happen,” she said softly. “You keep telling God how He should run things, and when He doesn’t do it your way—”

  “That’s because nothing He does makes sense! I haven’t understood Him my entire life, but I understand this least of all!”

  Suddenly Miriam lifted her head and peered out into the street. “That looks like Amariah coming now. Joshua, he’s here!”

  “Thank God!” Joshua slumped against the doorframe in relief. “Get our things, Nathan; it’s time to go.”

  Amariah hurried into the house and closed the door behind him. Even in the evening twilight, Joshua could see that his face was radiant with happiness. “Manasseh has changed,” the prince said breathlessly. “He suffered terribly in prison, and now he has repented. He truly wants to worship Yahweh.”

  “You believe him?”

  “Yes, Joshua. I do.”

  “Then you’re a fool. He’ll turn around and stab you in the back the first chance he gets. Are you ready to leave? We’ve been waiting for you.”

  “I’m not going.”

  “What?”

  “Listen, I talked to Manasseh all afternoon, and I honestly don’t think we need to run away. He wants to turn the nation back to God and start making restitution. He wants to celebrate the Day of Atonement later this month. We talked about cleansing the Te
mple, and he wants to see you, Joel. He needs your help.”

  Joshua was outraged. “You told Manasseh that Joel was here?”

  “We have nothing to fear. My brother is sincere.”

  “You told him! You deliberately put Joel’s life in danger!”

  The high priest rested his hand on Joshua’s shoulder. “It’s all right. If I feared for my own safety, I would have stayed in Egypt. I came back to purify the Temple. Let’s hear what Amariah has to say.”

  “Manasseh wants to talk to you about the Day of Atonement. He wants to offer the yearly sacrifice for the nation’s sin and for his own. He wants you to officiate.”

  “How can you possibly worship God in that filthy place?” Joshua cried.

  “I have to start somewhere,” Joel said quietly. “Maybe everything won’t be perfect at first, but if the king wants to make a fresh start, the Day of Atonement is certainly a good place to begin. What better opportunity than this for our people to examine themselves for sin, to repent, and to offer a sacrifice?”

  “You’re not seriously considering this!” Joshua said.

  Joel spread his hands. “This is why I came back.”

  Joshua turned to Amariah, his anger barely contained. “I suppose you told him that I was here, too?”

  “I did. He saw all the work we’ve been doing, running the government for him, and he’s grateful. He asked to see you.”

  “I’m not walking into his trap.”

  “It isn’t a trap, Joshua. If he wanted to capture you, he could have easily followed me here and done it by now. He just wants to talk to you.”

  “What about?”

  Amariah hesitated. “I think he wants to tell you himself. Will you talk to him?”

  The thought of meeting Manasseh face-to-face made Joshua’s entire body tremble with rage. “No! I hate him too much!”

  “Then this is your chance to tell him. You can choose the time and the meeting place—wherever you’ll feel safe. He has already agreed that you can be armed, if you’d like.”

  “Isn’t he afraid that I’ll kill him?”