THE
KING WHO WOULD NOT DIE
THE KING WHO
WOULD NOT DIE
By Robert Allen
CHAPTER TWO
The plans for the coronation of King
Ahaziah included almost none of the pomp and ceremony which normally
accompanied the crowning of a new monarch.
The Arabian invasion meant that most of the gold in the palace had been
stolen in the raid on the capital city.
The people were upset about that especially since King Jehoram and the
army stayed over in Edom until the Arabians completed their looting. When that king had died no funeral service
had taken place. Normally a great
bonfire on the top of the Mt. of Olives would have marked the solemn occasion,
but nothing of that sort happened. The
king hadn’t even been buried in the royal cemetery. The people hated him so much that he was
simply buried in the nearest spot of ground available.
Since the death of all the other
sons at the hands of the Arabians, Ahaziah remained the only possible heir to
the throne. A son in the line of David
had to be king and he was the only one left.
So the people were willing to crown him, but they weren’t willing to
spend much on the coronation.
The maid Rahel helped Zibiah dress
in a beautiful yellow robe tied with a royal blue sash. Long golden earrings dangled from each ear
and every finger on both hands sported a jewel encrusted ring. The style in Jerusalem demanded that a woman
wear all of her jewelry at once and Zibiah certainly wanted to be in style.
In the hallway next to her room no
one stirred. The coronation events did
not involve any of the women, they were only for men. But she could faintly detect the sound of
harp and lute coming from the banquet hall at the other side of the
palace. The crowning had been completed
and the banquet feast was underway. None
of the wives would be at the feast but Zibiah knew of a balcony where she could
sit behind a screen and watch the festivities.
So she walked quietly down the hall in that direction.
The banquet hall in the palace built
by David and Solomon occupied one of the largest spaces in the entire palace
complex. A triple row of Corinthian
columns lined all four sides of the room supporting a cedar beam ceiling
overlaid with gold. The banquet table
stretched down the middle of the room at least one hundred feet long. Smaller tables sat along the walls. Zibiah had no doubt that the reports she had
heard were true, more than one thousand people could be fed in that room at one
feast.
Stepping into the balcony high above
the banquet floor she felt a little disappointed. Only fifty or so men reclined on couches near
the large table. Oil lamps lit their
immediate area brightly which only emphasized the darkness throughout the rest
of the room. The musicians she had heard
from her own room sat on a raised platform but no one seemed to be paying any
attention to them at all. The men picked
at a few dishes spread across the banquet table but the greatest task at hand
seemed to be that of drinking. Servants
scurried back and forth with large pitchers refilling the flasks as fast as the
men could drain them.
“More! More!” seemed to be the only sounds in the
room. Some of the men even kicked at the
servants to get them to refill the pitchers more quickly.
Zibiah crept toward the edge of the
balcony to get a better view of her husband, the new king. It had been several weeks since she had seen
him. She was so anxious to let him know
how the baby was doing. They had not
chosen a name for him yet and his visit to the temple at eight days of age
approached rapidly. They had to have a
name before that very important visit.
She had sent messengers to the king to remind him of the event, but so
far there had been no reply. Of course,
he had been busy with the plans for the coronation.
Peering closely through the rails
she finally spotted him. Ahaziah lay on
a purple couch right at the foot of one of the three largest pillars. His position beside the pillar almost hid him
from her sight so she stood up and leaned over the railing to get a better
view. As she did, a figure on the couch
next to the king glanced her way. Zibiah
pulled back quickly into the shadows.
Had Queen Athaliah seen her? And
what was the queen doing there anyway.
Feasts were only for the men of the royal party. Like a dry weed blowing through the Negev she
fled from the balcony and rushed back to the safety of her chamber.
Later that night Zibiah woke from
her sleep with the conviction that someone stood just inside the door of her
bedroom. Through half-opened eyes she
watched as the shadowy figure crossed the room to stand beside the baby’s
cradle. Maybe the Arabians had returned. They would hurt her baby, she just knew
it. She tried to scream but only a faint
gasp came out. To her horror the
mysterious visitor heard even that and turned toward her bed. The stranger had grabbed the baby from the
crib and carried it toward her, not the way babies should be carried but way
out in front with arms extended.
“Please. Please don’t hurt him.”
To her amazement the shadow laughed,
a low chuckling laugh which she knew well.
“Zibiah, it’s me, Ahaziah. I’m
sorry I startled you. I couldn’t sleep
after the feast so I decided to take a look at my new son.”
Zibiah nearly fainted from relief.
“Oh, Ahaziah. You did frighten me. I thought for sure the Arabians had returned
to harm our son.”
“Don’t you worry your pretty head
about those Arabians. We’ve fortified
Jerusalem and all the gates are closed.
There’s no one who is going to be able to come into the city and hurt
you or your boy. You are both safe here
in the palace.”
The newly-crowned king handed the
baby over to his wife and sat down on the edge of the bed. He was not used to holding babies, that was
for sure. He could not believe they were
actually that small.
“Well, I guess it’s time to give him
a name.”
“Oh, yes,” said Zibiah. “Tomorrow I must take him to the temple to be
circumcised and we have to have a name.”
“To the temple.”
“Of course. That’s where all the boys are taken when they
are eight days old, isn’t it? Is there
something wrong with that?
‘Oh, I don’t suppose so. It is traditional, I guess. I haven’t had much to do with the
temple. There’s just a bunch of old men
left up there who don’t like the new ways.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, all of us younger men prefer
the god of Israel to the old Jehovah-God of Judah. Israel’s god is so much more fun to
worship. He lets us do just about
anything we want to do. When we
worshipped Jehovah he was always sending prophets to yell at us and tell us all
the things we couldn’t do. Like that
fellow Elijah. Why, he actually put a
curse on my father and gave him the terrible disease that killed him. Do you see why I don’t like Jehovah and the
temple?”
“I suppose so. But my parents told me that the best years we
ever had as a nation included the years when David and Solomon reigned, and
they worshipped Jehovah.”
“Sure, they could afford to. They were rich. They didn’t have to get along with all the
other countries which worship other gods.
If you worship Jehovah, he won’t let you worship anyone else. So how can I get along with the kings from
other countries if I’m always telling them they are worshipping false gods and
only my God is the right one?”
Zibiah had never heard her husband
talk like that. He had seemed to believe
just like her parents when they were back in Beersheba.
“But is it all right if I take him
to the temple tomorrow? It would make my
mother so happy to know that he was dedicated there.” The young queen spoke quietly so as not to
anger him further.
“I suppose so. If you must.
It won’t make any difference anyway.
As soon as he is old enough for school we will send him up to Israel to
study in one of the Baal education centers the king of Israel has
established. They’ll teach him how silly
it is to worship Jehovah.”
“And a name?” she whispered, not
wanted him to become distracted.
“Oh yes, a name. How about Omri? He was my grandfather, Queen Athaliah’s
father. That would make mother happy if
we named him Omri.”
As soon as Zibiah heard Athaliah’s
name mentioned she decided she hated the name Omri. But she knew she had to be careful.
“I suppose that would be all right,”
she sighed. “But I did want his name to
be a little more like yours. I so much
like the name Jehoahaz.”
“Jehoahaz? O right.
That is the name I used when I was down in Beersheba. But you won’t be hearing that name anymore.”
“What?”
“Now that I am king my name will be
Ahaziah. King Ahaziah.”
“But why? What is wrong with your old name?”
“It starts too much like
Jehovah. All my friends from Israel like
Ahaziah. King Jehoram sent ten royals
down for my coronation and that is the name they like.”
“And your mother?”
“Yes?”
“She likes it too.”
“Of course. How did you know.”
“I just guessed.”
“Well, in any case we can’t name him
Jehoahaz because someone might confuse him with me even though I am not using
that name anymore. I plan to be king for
many years to come. What other names do
you have in mind? Women are much better
at this naming business, anyway.
“Well, I was thinking we could call
him Joash.”
“Joash? As good as any other name I expect. All
right. Joash it is!”
Just at that moment the door to
Zibiah’s bedroom flew open and there stood Queen Athaliah. Her tangled hair stuck out in every direction
from her head. Blue and red makeup
smeared in blotches across her face, evidence that she had fallen asleep before
removing it the night before. A long
flowing black robe which might have been beautiful in the sunlight hung over
her shoulders causing her to look like the witch of Endor.
“So!” The voice Zibiah remembered from before
screeched out through tight lips. “I
thought I might find you here. What do
you think you are doing wandering about the palace at night? Just had to visit the little brat who found
his way into the world? Well, take a
good look because if I have my way about it you’ll never see him again. I’ve a good mind to take him out to Molech
and offer him to Baal.”
While the wicked queen screamed,
Zibiah clutched young Joash close as if to protect him. She was sure her husband the king would
protest, but instead he jumped off the bed and began to slip around the Queen
Mother toward the open door.
“I’m sorry, Mother. I’m sorry.”
“You’d better be sorry. Sneaking around behind my back like
this. Now, get back to your room. Quickly!
Quickly!”
Like an arrow released from a bow
the king ran from the room without a backward glance, leaving Zibiah and her
newborn son alone with the wicked Queen Athaliah.
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