Joash - The King Who Would Not Die

JOASH - THE KING WHO WOULD NOT DIE  - Chapter One

THE KING WHO WOULD NOT DIE

By Robert Allen

CHAPTER ONE

                Cries from the new-born prince of Judah filled the palace nursery.  Responding quickly, one of the maids plucked him from his cradle and carried him swiftly, but carefully across the room to where his mother Zibiah lay sleeping.

            “Your highness?  Queen Zibiah?”  The whispers came softly with hesitation, but someone had to feed the baby. 

            “Queen Zibiah.  Please!  He’s very hungry.”

            Slowly the young queen stretched and opened her eyes, turning toward the sound of the whispering voice of the maid.  She hated to leave her dream.  The dream that her husband Ahaziah wore the crown, David’s crown.  It had to be a dream, and yet the voice had called her Queen Zibiah.  Still groggy she blinked and accepted the baby from the arms of the maid.   He snuggled close and immediately forgot his crying.

            “Queen Zibiah,” she whispered to herself.  And then, because the sound of that name was so wonderful she repeated it, “Queen Zibiah.”

            Less than twelve months before she had been plain Zibiah of Beersheba, a sleepy little village on the edge of the Negev, the desert in southern Judah.  She would probably have still been Zibiah of Beersheba if it hadn’t been for the Arabians.

            Gazing lovingly at the infant in her arms, the young queen smiled.  The invasion by the Arabians had been horrible, a terrible event for the entire country.  People said it was the worst event ever since King Jehoshaphat had died.  But it had been a good thing for her.  No army had stopped the Arabians during their march on Jerusalem.  Most of the fighting men were with King Jehoram on the other side of the Jordan River trying to deal with the Edomites.  The small country of Judah didn’t have enough soldiers to fight on two fronts.  All that time Zibiah and her family had been safe in Beersheba, far from the fighting.  They hadn’t even known battles were taking place until Ahaziah had come.

            Ahaziah!  Just thinking of his name brought joy to the heart of Zibiah.  She would never forget the day he rode into town along with three of his closest friends.  Tall, handsome, strong and brave.  Each on the back of a matching black stallion.

            “We were out for a ride when the Arabians attacked,” she remembered him telling her father at supper that night.   “Riding over the hills toward Bethlehem we spotted the cloud of dust in the distance and knew immediately that something was wrong.  One smaller dust cloud revealed people in carts and on foot fleeing for their lives.  The larger cloud in the distance boiled and churned with the marching feet and tramping hooves of the largest army any of us had ever seen.”

            “There was nowhere to go,” one of his friends chimed in.  “Bethlehem was under attack and Jerusalem had no army of defense with the king and his soldiers away in Edom.  So we headed south.”

            “Would it be possible for us to stay a few days,” Ahaziah had asked her father.  “I’m sure King Jehoram will return to fight once word arrives in Edom concerning the Arabians.”

            To her delight her father had agreed and the few days had stretched into several months.  By the time even a few weeks had passed Ahaziah and Zibiah knew they were in love.  When they stay in Beersheba ended the prince bid a fond farewell and then went back to Jerusalem to take matters into his own hands.   King Jehoram sent a messenger down to Beersheba to speak with her father and before another week had passed she traveled up to the capital city to become the bride of the king’s youngest and only son.

            That was sad, because Ahaziah had not been the king’s only son before the Arabians came.  He had several brothers, but they hadn’t been out riding near Bethlehem that fateful day and the Arabians had killed them all.  Not one of them besides Ahaziah had survived.  So the death of his brothers had been sad, but it had not been the only surprise.   Two other great surprises had greeted her in Jerusalem.  First she had discovered that she was not the only wife of Ahaziah.  And secondly, she had met his mother!

            Zibiah shuddered so hard at the thought of her first meeting with Queen Athaliah that the baby started crying again.  Calming him with her kisses she motioned for the maid to return him to his cradle.  Having a boy brought great satisfaction to her heart.  An heir would please Ahaziah.  Now he would love her even more than the other wives.

            The other wives.  She knew that kings often married more than one wife so they could be sure of having sons, but she hadn’t even thought to ask Ahaziah if other wives existed.  She had been so sure of his love during the early days in Beersheba.  Now she wasn’t sure at all, because there were other wives—and there was also his mother.

            She had met Queen Athaliah the very first day she arrived in the palace.  That meeting would never be forgotten.  The servants who brought her up from Beersheba had argued during the entire trip about where they would leave her when they got to Jerusalem.  Amasa argued for taking her directly to the palace on Mt. Zion where the king lived.  Habosheth disagreed.  She would not be living with the king’s family.  Prince Ahaziah lived in the house King David had built for the daughter of the Egyptian Pharoah during his reign.

            Amasa had won.  After all it was King Jehoram who assigned them to bring her back so they finally agreed she would go first to the palace and then to the house of the prince.  How wrong they had been.  No sooner had the two of them ushered her through the huge double cedar doors that led into the front hall of the palace then they came face to face with the most terrible sight Zibiah had ever seen.

            In the middle of the palace hall stood a chair, and yet not really a chair.  A chair without legs.  Not really a chair at all.  Yes there were legs but they didn’t go toward the ground, they stuck out in front of the chair and behind it.  Not really legs at all.  Poles.  Under the poles stood men, four of the largest men she had ever seen.  They held the chair which wasn’t really a chair so high that Zibiah knew she could have just walked underneath.

            In the chair, high in the air above the men, sat a beautiful lady.  Her hair cascaded like an ebony waterfall down her back and almost covered the silk train draped over the back of the chair and falling down toward the floor.  The coal-black locks of hair framed a perfectly white face.  Zibiah’s dark tan made her feel like an Arabian in contrast.  She just knew this woman walked under a parasol every time the sun came out.  A bright red dot decorated the center of each white cheek while blue eye shadow marked the top of each eye.  At first Zibiah thought the beautiful figure on the chair had to be a statue, but not for long.

            “What do you think you are doing, coming into my palace unannounced?”  The voice from the beautiful statue destroyed every previous impression of beauty for those in the room.  Shrieking, raspy tones, as ugly as the face was beautiful flew from her lips.  “Don’t you know better than to block my way when my litter moves toward the commencement of my morning stroll?  You should be flayed alive and roasted on the coals of an altar.  Do you think I have nothing better to do that to wait in this drafty hall teaching you some manners?  Quickly now, who are you?  What business do you have in my palace?

            Zibiah knew the servants would never respond.  They lay prostrate on the stone floor, shaking like leaves in the fall.  She shook too, but someone had to say something.

            “My name is Zibiah, ma’am.  I come from…”

            “No one cares where you came from,”  the ugly voice thundered from the stormy look on her face.  “Where are you going?  What are you doing here in my palace?  Quickly!  Quickly!”

            Zibiah knew she could answer more quickly if the woman in the chair would just be quiet and give her a chance, but she didn’t think that would be the right thing to say.

            “I’m here to marry the prince,” she managed before being interrupted again.
            “Another one?  Another marriage?  And without telling his mother?  Who does he think he is?  What does he think he is doing?  Get out of here.  Go back to the rocks you climbed out from under.  Never darken the doors in my presence again.  Be gone!  Quickly!  Quickly!”

            Zibiah did not have to be told twice and the servants were even faster.  They ran down the stairs together.  Amasa even lost his footing and slid down the entire staircase on his backside.  When they hit the street he scrambled up and led the retreat without ever looking back.  Zibiah never saw them again.  She found her own way to the house of Prince Ahaziah who welcomed her warmly.  His father, King Jehoram, made all the arrangements for the marriage since Queen Athaliah refused to even attend.  That was fine with Zibiah, she just wanted to stay out of the way of the Queen.

            Just thinking about Queen Athaliah gave Zibiah the heebie-jeebies.  Since that first visit she had learned that the Queen worshipped Baal and that she had actually taken her first-born son out to the valley of Molech and burned him alive in sacrifice to her god. 

            The crying babe had been the cause of Zibiah waking up, but thinking about Queen Athaliah kept her from sleeping again even though the baby had quieted down.

            “I think I will rise for the day, Rahel.  Bring me a fresh robe and brush my hair.  I must look my best when Ahaziah comes to see his new son.”

            Actually she wasn’t sure that Ahaziah would come, but she would never admit that to one of the servants.  Fathers in the palace spent very little time paying much attention to children.  Their time belonged to the kingdom.  Ahaziah’s time had always belonged to the kingdom, but especially today.  His coronation had been planned for that very afternoon.   On this very day Ahaziah would succeed his father King Jehoram on the throne and she would be a queen.