The Strength Of His Hand Part 8

"What would you know about morality, Shebna?" Gedaliah let the door slam on his way out.

Shebna felt filthy after his conversation with the prince, and he had the urge to wash his hands. Gedaliah was right; if he had any moral integrity at all, he would resign rather than help the prince destroy everything that King Hezekiah had accomplished. But in Gedaliah's eyes, only traitors resigned-and Shebna valued survival more than integrity. It was too late. He had already cast his lot with the prince.

Shebna turned to stare out of the window, wishing the fire in the harem had never happened. As he gazed into the darkness, bitter tears rolled silently down his cheeks.

6.

ELIAKIM SAT IN HIS palace office and read through one of the pet.i.tions stacked on the huge pile in front of him. The request contradicted the Law and would have to be denied. But then he saw Shebna's note approving it, and Eliakim's anger flared. What was Shebna trying to get away with? He knew this decision couldn't stand.

Arguments with the haughty Egyptian had become daily events since Hezekiah's illness, and as much as Eliakim dreaded another one, it couldn't be avoided. He headed down the palace hallway to find Shebna.

After a long search, Eliakim found him in the royal archives, deep in conversation with someone who stood in the shadows. Shebna stopped midsentence as soon as he spotted Eliakim.

"Now what do you want?"

Eliakim waved the parchment. "We need to discuss this pet.i.tion. Your decision contradicts the Law."

The other man stepped forward. Eliakim's stomach rolled over in revulsion when he recognized Prince Gedaliah.

"Well, if it isn't the busybody engineer," Gedaliah said. "King Hezekiah's faithful messenger boy. I've heard that you're a big man now-secretary of state!"

Eliakim ignored him and held the pet.i.tion out to Shebna. "Do you have a minute to discuss this in private, or should I come back later?"

"There is nothing to discuss," Shebna said. "It is a simple decision. The man owes a debt, and he will have to pay it."

"Yes, but you can't take away his land without leaving him the right of redemption. According to the Torah-"

"Here we go again," Shebna sighed. He and Gedaliah exchanged glances.

The prince took a few steps toward Eliakim. "You really enjoy forcing your outdated Torah laws on everyone, don't you? But I'll bet if we checked into your personal life, you wouldn't be so holy and perfect."

Eliakim said nothing. His silence seemed to goad the prince.

"You know, I've always wondered about your lovely Israelite wife," he continued. "She claims that the a.s.syrians captured her and made her their slave-and that she miraculously escaped from them. But maybe she didn't really escape at all. Maybe she was sent here to be the a.s.syrians' eyes and ears."

Surprise and anger swept through Eliakim. "My wife doesn't concern you."

"She does if she's an a.s.syrian spy. What a coincidence that she found her way to your house, your bed-seeing that you're such an important man."

Eliakim rushed toward Gedaliah, angry enough to punch him.

Shebna quickly stepped between them. "You had better control your temper, Eliakim. Have you forgotten that Prince Gedaliah is heir to the throne of Judah?"

Suddenly Eliakim realized why Gedaliah had come from Lachish, and his stomach rolled over again. He was so angry he could barely speak. "Listen, Gedaliah," he breathed, "as long as King Hezekiah is alive, he's the king-not you." He turned to leave before he did something he would regret.

"If you're going to ask my brother his opinion on that pet.i.tion," Gedaliah called after him, "I don't think you'll find him very talkative today."

Eliakim kept walking, ignoring him. The thought of the corrupt, idolatrous prince inheriting the throne made him sick. But when he walked into the king's bedchamber and saw Hezekiah, he nearly wept.

The king no longer tossed feverishly, moaning in pain as he had for days. Instead, he lay deathly still, his eyes closed, his breathing shallow and uneven. His face had the colorless pallor of ashes. Eliakim touched his shoulder.

"Your Majesty?" Hezekiah never moved or opened his eyes.

Eliakim shook him, calling louder, "Your Majesty?"

Hezekiah didn't respond. The new Egyptian physician sat beside the bed with his head in his hands.

"How long has he been like this?" Eliakim asked.

"Since last evening when I lanced the boil."

Eliakim stared at the man, afraid to ask the question. Finally the doctor said, "We're losing him, my lord."

"No," Eliakim moaned. "G.o.d of Abraham, no."

He remembered Hezekiah saying, "I don't want to die," and he had the urge to shake him harder, to rouse him from the edge of death, shouting, "Fight, my lord! Fight to live!" Instead, Eliakim rolled the pet.i.tion tightly in his hands and backed out of the room. Shebna and Gedaliah were waiting for him in the hallway.

"Would you like me to take care of that pet.i.tion now?" Gedaliah said, holding out his hand. Eliakim could see Gedaliah's anger smoldering dangerously, but he didn't care.

"You miserable vulture!"

"Is that any way to talk to the next king?"

"You'll destroy everything that King Hezekiah has accomplished!" Eliakim shouted.

"Does that mean you'd like to resign, Lord Secretary, rather than work for me?" Gedaliah asked.

"No one works for you yet. And as long as King Hezekiah is still alive, I'm still his secretary of state."

"Well, when he dies I have a word of advice for you from those holy books you're so fond of quoting: 'A king's wrath is a messenger of death, but a wise man will appease it.' "

Eliakim walked away.

"Not very wise, is he?" Gedaliah said behind him.

Eliakim wandered back to his office and dropped into his chair, staring sightlessly. Piles of doc.u.ments covered his worktable, but he shoved them aside with a sweep of his arm, then leaned his elbows on the table and covered his face. He wanted to give up fighting and go home, but he knew he had to keep working. He had to make sure Shebna ran the nation according to the Torah.

When he finally felt calm, he bent to retrieve the scattered papers. But as he pored over them, he found that nearly every one of them contradicted the laws of G.o.d. He recognized Shebna's touch on them like a blight on summer fruit.

Hezekiah must live. He must. Eliakim could never support Gedaliah's reign. He hated everything about the prince, and the prince hated him. Suddenly Eliakim remembered the proverb Gedaliah had quoted-"A king's wrath is a messenger of death"-and a chill trickled through his veins. He knew exactly what it meant. As soon as King Hezekiah died, Gedaliah would have Eliakim executed.

He leaped from his seat, his heart galloping wildly. He hurried from the palace, up the hill to the Temple, fighting the urge to run. He had to find the high priest. He had to claim sanctuary in the Temple before the king died.

But as he neared the Temple courtyards, he realized that his plan would never work. Gedaliah wouldn't respect the sanct.i.ty of the Temple. He would kill Eliakim there as readily as anywhere else. Nor could he go into hiding and leave his family at risk. Gedaliah knew all about Jerusha.

Eliakim hurried through the gates into the inner courtyard and sank to his knees in front of the altar. The more he thought of how hopelessly trapped he was, the more he panicked.

"O G.o.d ... O G.o.d!" he breathed. He struggled to catch his breath as fear squeezed his lungs. He bowed his forehead to the ground and tried to pray but couldn't find the words. "Help me ... please!"

Footsteps crunched on the stones, coming toward him. He looked up. A white-robed priest bowed to him. "Good afternoon, Lord Secretary. Can I help you with something?"

"Uh, no. Wait... . Yes! Yes, I need to talk to the high priest. Is that possible?"

"Of course, my lord."

The priest led Eliakim past the storehouses he had built and into the Temple side chambers. He remembered all the other building projects he had overseen for the king: the walls, the fortifications, the garrisons, the tunnel. They had contributed to his rise to power. And now they endangered his life.

The high priest seemed surprised to see Eliakim. "How can I help you, Lord Secretary?" He motioned for him to be seated.

Eliakim remained standing. A sudden thought made him shiver with fear. If Gedaliah launched a purge of the religious faction, the priests and Levites would be included in it along with Eliakim. In fact, if Gedaliah found out where he was, he could accuse Eliakim and the high priest of conspiracy-especially after Eliakim had spoken with such contempt.

"Oh, no ... I'm sorry!" he moaned.

"What is it, my lord?"

"I-I shouldn't be here. My life is in danger ... and now I'm endangering yours by talking to you."

The high priest gestured to the chair again. "Why don't you sit down and tell me what this is all about." Eliakim battled to control his panic as he sank down.

"You already know that the king is ill."

"Yes."

"The truth is, he's dying."

"Dying? So suddenly?"

"I wish it weren't true, but I just saw him, and his physician told me ..." Eliakim couldn't finish.

The high priest closed his eyes. "Ah, Sovereign Lord. What a terrible loss."

Eliakim swallowed his grief and continued. "The king's brother Gedaliah will succeed him. He's as corrupt and idolatrous as King Ahaz was. Everyone who supported King Hezekiah's reforms is in danger. That includes me and probably you, too."

The high priest's voice remained calm. "What can we do?"

"I don't know. I haven't had time to think about it. I just wanted to warn you... . I don't know what to do."

"I see." The high priest stroked his beard thoughtfully. "How strong are Gedaliah's supporters?" he asked after a pause.

Eliakim shook his head. "None of King Hezekiah's other brothers would stand a chance against him."

"Does the military support Gedaliah, too?"

General Jonadab. Eliakim saw a ray of hope.

"No, the general hates Gedaliah as much as I do."

"Would he be willing to help us?" the priest asked.

"I'm certain that he-oh no! Jonadab isn't in Jerusalem! Shebna sent him to Beersheba yesterday to see about a disturbance and ... They've had this all planned! I've been totally blind!"

The priest sighed and gestured helplessly. "Then we can only wait and pray. King Hezekiah's life and, indeed, our own lives are in G.o.d's hands."

His words should have rea.s.sured Eliakim, but they didn't. "Listen, can you call a special convocation tomorrow? A sacrifice to pray for the king?"

"Yes, I can certainly arrange that."

"Good. Then if anyone asks why I came to see you, tell them that we were arranging the convocation."

The high priest rose. "It's nearly time for the evening sacrifice, my lord. I've just decided that I will preside over it myself.Why don't you go back to the courtyard and wait? Perhaps G.o.d will speak to you and give you guidance." The high priest smiled faintly, then embraced Eliakim. "Shalom, Lord Secretary."

Eliakim wandered back the way he had come, oblivious to the increased activity around him as the priests prepared for the evening sacrifice. He trembled with anger when he thought of Shebna and Gedaliah plotting to take over, and he cursed his own stupidity for failing to recognize it. They had outmaneuvered him. They had sent his only ally, General Jonadab, fifty miles into the Judean desert to get rid of him. Even if Eliakim sent for Jonadab immediately, he would never make it back in time. King Hezekiah couldn't possibly live much longer.

Why did evil always have its way? Why did G.o.d reward wickedness instead of righteousness?

Eliakim knelt down on the royal dais, but he couldn't pray. As he waited for the crowds to gather and the evening sacrifice to begin, he carefully examined each of his alternatives and its consequences. But every avenue he explored, from starting a revolution to fleeing the country, led to a dead end. The only way to save his own life was to appease Gedaliah. To do that, Eliakim would have to compromise his faith in G.o.d.

Never.

The sudden call of the shofar jolted Eliakim from his thoughts. He stood up and looked around. Prince Gedaliah strode up the royal walkway and took his place on the royal dais beside Eliakim, looking pleased with himself.

As he had promised, the high priest came forward to preside over the service, a highly unusual occurrence for an ordinary daily sacrifice. But when the Levites began to sing, Eliakim recognized immediately that this wasn't an ordinary evening sacrifice. Instead of the scheduled liturgy, the high priest sent a message that Eliakim couldn't possibly miss.

Do not fret because of evil men

or be envious of those who do wrong;

for like the gra.s.s they will soon wither,