The Chronicles of the Kings Collection

  “I have one final question that we need to discuss. The Law of Moses requires the people to give a tenth portion to the priests and Levites so they can devote themselves to the Temple and its sacrifices. But the people are already heavily taxed to pay the Assyrian tribute demands. It seems that the Law of God and the demands of Assyria are in direct conflict. If our nation is to have any future, we need to consider what to do about that. I’d like to be free from Assyria’s control and put our trust in God, but first I must consider what would happen if we stopped sending the tribute payments.”

  “You would be committing suicide!” one of Ahaz’s former advisors shouted. He was an experienced statesman who had served under King Jotham as well as Ahaz. “The Assyrians would begin marching their massive army toward Jerusalem as soon as they heard of our rebellion.”

  “That’s right,” another advisor added. “You would be needlessly endangering the entire nation.”

  “But our nation is called to be a servant of Yahweh, not a servant of Assyria,” Azariah said. Hezekiah had asked the new High Priest to deliberately draw out the opposition, but a third advisor turned on him sharply.

  “Listen—all the nations around us pay tribute, as well. Do you think they’re all fools? There’s a very good reason why our taxes go to Assyria and not the Temple.”

  “He’s right, Your Majesty,” General Jonadab added. “I can prepare a detailed report on the Assyrians if you’d like me to. I think you will find it horrifying to read. They are a brutal, merciless, bloodthirsty people.”

  “And we can’t afford to pay more taxes to the Temple,” Ahaz’s former treasurer added. “The Assyrian demands alone are staggering.”

  “But it was our nation’s sin that caused our bondage to Assyria in the first place,” the prophet Micah said. He had risen to his feet, his passion for his subject unmistakable. “Once we make Yahweh the head of our nation again, we can throw off the Assyrian yoke.”

  “Now, wait just a minute!” Shebna said. He perched on the edge of his seat as he confronted Micah. “If you want to launch a religious revival and make everyone throw away their idols to worship Yahweh, that is immaterial to me. But it would be disastrous to allow your religious zeal to spill over into your political decisions.”

  Micah didn’t back down. “Once we renew our covenant with God and purify the land of idolatry, we can’t serve any other master but Yahweh. To give Yahweh’s portion to Assyria would be a grave sin.”

  “You know nothing of world politics,” Shebna said. “If we stop sending the tribute to Assyria, we will be destroyed. We cannot confuse religious idealism with political reality.”

  “You’re wrong.” Micah’s voice was quiet but firm. “There’s no difference between the two. King Hezekiah isn’t the true ruler of Judah—Yahweh is. Our forefathers demanded a king like the other nations, but God is our true king. Therefore, there’s no difference between our religion and our politics. They’re one and the same.”

  Hezekiah was alarmed to see that Shebna disagreed so sharply with Yahweh’s prophet. He wondered if his appointment had been a serious mistake. He watched the assembled men carefully as more and more of them joined the debate and noted that most of them sided with Shebna. The rift between the religious and secular factions was obviously very deep. But as Hezekiah listened to both sides of the argument, he wasn’t sure which side he agreed with. Shebna had taught him to make practical, informed decisions based on reason; Zechariah urged him to trust in God’s power alone. These two sides of Hezekiah seemed as irreconcilable as the two fighting parties.

  A flash of lightning suddenly flickered outside the shuttered window, and Hezekiah heard the answering grumble of thunder a moment later. For his nation’s sake, he would try to appease both political factions—and both sides of himself—for as long as he possibly could. With his economy in chaos, his nobility sharply divided, and his nation in a state of turmoil, the next few months of his reign would be challenging enough.

  Prince Gedaliah seethed with rage as he sat through the king’s council meeting. Hezekiah had finally appointed a palace administrator—and it wasn’t him. In fact, Hezekiah hadn’t appointed Gedaliah to any position, not even the job of overseeing the repairs at the Temple. Some commoner named Eliakim had been given that job, and Gedaliah was furious about it. He longed to get even with Hezekiah for not granting him any political favors, and as he listened to the bitter opposition between his father’s advisors and the new religious faction, he began to see how he might get revenge—and more. Why settle for Shebna’s position as second-in-command if he could be king instead?

  Hezekiah’s new policies had angered many powerful, important men among the nobility. Gedaliah would be their obvious choice once they decided they’d had enough of Hezekiah’s religion. But first he needed to let them know that he agreed with them. He had noted all of the advisors who spoke against canceling the Assyrian tribute, and when he saw that Shebna was among them, he knew exactly how he could win the Egyptian’s support. Gedaliah waited for him outside the throne room, then fell into step beside him as he strode through the palace courtyard.

  “I want you to know that I was on your side in there, Shebna.”

  “I do not know what ‘side’ you are referring to,” he said coldly. He walked on, but Gedaliah kept up with him.

  “Come on—we’ve known each other a long time, Shebna.”

  “Yes, since you were a child.”

  “And ever since Hezekiah and I were children, you’ve made it plain that you don’t go along with all this religious stuff.”

  “King Hezekiah is well aware of what I believe. What is your point?”

  “Well, our king just announced in the meeting that all the key government positions will go to men who follow God’s laws. Doesn’t it strike you as strange that the very top position went to you—an unbeliever?”

  “Not at all. I have assured the king of my willingness to live by the laws of the Torah even though I do not profess belief in Yahweh or any god.” Shebna was definitely on his guard. Gedaliah decided to take a friendlier approach.

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I’m on your side. So are a lot of others I can name. I don’t know what my brother is trying to prove with these religious reforms, but frankly, I think he’s becoming a fanatic. Now, if I were the king I wouldn’t do things his way. I’d let the priests handle the religious matters, and you and I would handle the government. In other words, Shebna, your thinking is more in line with mine than my brother’s. You know what I’m saying?” He had dropped the bait. He waited to see the response. Shebna stopped walking.

  “Yes, I know exactly what you are saying. And I think you have greatly underestimated my loyalty to your brother. Good day.” He turned to leave.

  “I’m not finished, Shebna.”

  “I am. I have nothing more to say to you.”

  “Well, I have something to say to you, and I think you’d better listen. I’m quite sure that Hezekiah doesn’t know everything there is to know about you.”

  Shebna faced him again, and his dark eyes bored into Gedaliah’s. “I have nothing to hide.”

  “Well, I wonder if Hezekiah ever heard the true story of how our mother died—or why.”

  Shebna turned his back so suddenly that Gedaliah didn’t have a chance to see if his expression betrayed guilt or fear. “We cannot discuss this out here,” Shebna said as he strode toward his room. Gedaliah hurried to catch up with him, then waited while Shebna dismissed all his servants.

  “Now, what do you really want?” Shebna said after he had closed the door. Gedaliah looked around at the rooms that had belonged to Uriah and felt his anger returning. This suite should be his.

  “What do I want?” Gedaliah repeated. “Let’s talk about my mother first. I was only a baby when she died, so I don’t remember her at all. But I’m sure that Hezekiah remembers her quite well. And I think you do, too, Shebna. Am I right?” Shebna didn’t reply, but he looked uneas
y. “In fact, if Hezekiah were to learn the true story of her death and your involvement in it—not to mention the part you played in our grandfather’s long imprisonment—I think he might have good cause to hold you responsible. What do you think?”

  “All I did was tell King Ahaz that your grandfather was teaching Hezekiah. I was new to the palace; I had no way of knowing that the king would react the way he did.”

  Gedaliah saw Shebna’s fear and savored the power he held over him. “Oh, I believe you, Shebna. But the question is—will Hezekiah?”

  “I did nothing wrong.”

  “No . . . more precisely, you did nothing at all—not even when my father gave the order for my mother to be executed, right in front of you. It was all your fault and you did absolutely nothing.”

  “Ahaz was the king! How could I stop him?”

  “It was your fault that he found out what my mother and grandfather were doing in the first place, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes. But how could I have possibly known what Ahaz would do?”

  “Kings are mysterious creatures, Shebna. They have a way of doing whatever they please with people who double-cross them. So I guess it’s hard to know how Hezekiah will react, too—if he were to find out, that is.”

  Shebna looked pale. “What exactly do you want from me? A job in the government?”

  “Yes, for starters. I need your help, Shebna, and you’re going to need mine. You can’t fight these religious fanatics all by yourself. They jumped all over you in the meeting today. And my grandfather and Isaiah both have a lot more influence over Hezekiah than you do.”

  “No. They have both refused a government position.”

  “Don’t kid yourself. Maybe they don’t hold an official title, but their influence over Hezekiah is enormous—especially my grandfather’s. I don’t know why my brother has allied himself with a bunch of religious zealots, but it’s going to lead to disaster unless we work together to counterbalance them. You heard all their crazy talk about rebelling against Assyria. They’re dangerous.”

  Shebna folded his arms. “What do you suggest?” he said irritably.

  “If like-minded men such as ourselves band together to oppose these fanatics, my brother would be forced to listen to reason. We have to work together. You need me in your government, Shebna. And in return, I’ll make sure Hezekiah never learns about your past sins—how you betrayed our mother, then stood by and watched our father order her execution!” Gedaliah’s voice grew steadily louder until he was shouting.

  “You have made your point, and I will see that you get your government position. But understand two things,” Shebna said, thrusting his fingers in Gedaliah’s face. “First, you will discharge all your duties with integrity. I will not tolerate any corruption. And second, although you and I may challenge some of the advice King Hezekiah receives from the religious extremists, we will never challenge his sovereignty. Understand?”

  “I understand. And I guess I’ll have to live with your ultimatums—for now. But if these radicals gain any more power, you can bet they’ll demand your removal from office because of your unbelief.”

  “We shall see.”

  “Yes. We shall see.”

  Eliakim hurried down the hill to his house after the meeting, his robes flapping in the wind. He was so eager to share the news with his father that he didn’t care if sprinting through the streets in the rain was an undignified thing for a king’s counselor to do. As he passed through the outer gate of his home, he barely had time to kiss his fingers and touch the mezuzah that hung on the doorpost before his father threw open the door.

  “Well? What happened, son? Why did the king send for you?”

  “Abba, you’ll never believe it! I can hardly believe it myself!” Eliakim leaned against the doorframe, puffing to catch his breath. Hilkiah gripped his arm.

  “So tell me, already! What did the king want with my son?”

  “He wants me to work for him!”

  “Work for him?”

  “Yes!”

  Hilkiah clutched his heart with both hands. “Excuse me. I must sit down.” He stumbled into the house and sank down on the bench near the door. Eliakim followed, grinning broadly.

  “Now, please,” Hilkiah said. “Start at the beginning, Eliakim.”

  “Remember the night we helped Micah—the night he prophesied to the king? Well, King Hezekiah listened to him, Abba. Really listened and—”

  “Yes, yes, I know this part. I took them to see Zechariah at the Temple, remember?”

  “No . . . all I remember was sitting in prison with my throat slit open.” Eliakim frowned as he fingered the bandage on his neck. Hilkiah waved in annoyance.

  “I know, I know. Forget your throat, already.”

  “It’s pretty hard to forget an experience like that, Abba!”

  “So the king invited you to his palace today to discuss your throat, Eliakim? Talk sense to me!”

  “Abba, King Hezekiah is completely different from his father. He’s going to purge all the idolatry from the land and govern the nation according to God’s Law.”

  “Praise God!”

  “I know. I could hardly believe it myself. Your friend Zechariah and all the other Levites will be advising him. He’s going to start by purifying the Temple and reopening it for the daily sacrifices. Then, when it’s ready, the whole nation will hold a sacrifice and reaffirm our covenant with God.”

  Hilkiah cried out for joy and leaped up to embrace Eliakim. “Praise God! What a glorious day! It’s too much. It’s too much to even believe.”

  “You’d better sit down, Abba. I’m just coming to the best part.”

  “What could be better than reopening Yahweh’s Temple? And the sacrifices? After all these years, all our prayers? What could be better than that?”

  “The king hired me to oversee the structural repairs at the Temple.”

  Hilkiah stood blinking, his eyes wide. “Oh, Eliakim. God’s holy Temple? You?”

  “Yes, Abba, me. I’m in charge of the reconstruction. Not only that, King Hezekiah asked me to serve as a member of his advisory council—among the nobility. He said he’s appointing only those men who’ve remained true to Yahweh and who never took part in idolatry. Apparently your old friend Zechariah recommended me, and of course Micah endorsed me, too.”

  “And you didn’t want to help Micah. You told me to mind my own business the day of the riot.”

  Eliakim rolled his eyes. “Let’s not go into that again. I’ve already admitted that I was wrong and you were right.”

  “‘Kings take pleasure in honest lips,’ Eliakim. ‘They value a man who speaks the truth.’”

  “I know, I know . . .”

  “Oh, son, I’m so proud of you.” He grabbed Eliakim again and kissed both his cheeks.

  “Abba, you’d better sit down. I want to tell you something else.”

  “There’s more?”

  “When the king asked me to serve on his council, I recalled an incident that happened a long time ago. Remember when I was a boy and you sent me to Isaiah’s house late at night with a message from Zechariah?”

  “Yes, I remember.”

  “Well, something happened that night. I think you would say Isaiah prophesied over me.”

  Hilkiah stared in stunned silence, waiting.

  “I don’t recall the exact words, Abba, but he said that one day I would be God’s servant—that God would summon me to be ‘a father’ to the house of David. He said I’d have absolute authority, second only to the king’s—like the palace administrator, I guess.”

  “And you never told me all this?”

  “Well, it seemed pretty farfetched at the time, Abba. I was only a boy. In fact, it still seems highly unlikely. King Hezekiah appointed his former tutor, Shebna, to the position of palace administrator.”

  “Who is this Shebna? That’s a foreign name?”

  “Yes, he’s Egyptian. That was the only appointment the king made today that didn’t mak
e any sense to me. Shebna isn’t a Jew, and from what I’ve heard, he doesn’t believe in any gods at all. Personally, I don’t trust the man. There’s something about him—”

  “If King Hezekiah follows the Torah, and if you’re right about Isaiah’s prophecy, then maybe you’ll replace Shebna someday. Remember, ‘Many are the plans in a man’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails.’”

  Eliakim grinned. “Well, I’m content just to work on Solomon’s Temple. It’s amazing!”

  Hilkiah gave another cry of joy and clapped his hands. “Call all the servants. We’re going to have a feast. We’ll sacrifice a thank offering and praise God for the great honor that He’s given this household. We’ll invite Uncle Moshe and—”

  “Oh no, please, not Uncle Moshe.”

  Hilkiah stopped midsentence, frowning. “Why not Uncle Moshe?”

  “Because he’ll bring Aunt Hannah, and she’ll have a long list of all the lovely brides she’s picked out for me.”

  “So? Is that so terrible? Aren’t you ever going to get married and give me some grandchildren?”

  “Not to one of Aunt Hannah’s brides, I’m not. Every one she chooses is as fat as she is.”

  “So maybe some of them are a little chubby. So what? What’s wrong with chubby?”

  “What’s wrong with beautiful, Abba? Beautiful would be much nicer.”

  “Listen. You wait and see. The matchmakers will be beating our door down now that you’re on the king’s advisory council. Every rich papa in Jerusalem will want you to marry his daughter.”

  “You really think so?”

  “I know so. You’re not such a bad catch, you know. Good looking . . . intelligent . . .” He tousled Eliakim’s damp hair. “Maybe a bit too skinny, though, and too pale. Yes, you could use a good wife, eh?”

  “Just let me choose her, Abba, not Aunt Hannah.”

  “But we have to invite her to our feast. It wouldn’t be right to leave her out.”