Gods And Kings (23 page)

“N-no, thank you, Rabbi. I’ve only come to bring you a message from Zechariah.” He felt breathless and tongue-tied, awed by the presence that seemed to surround the prophet. He swallowed again, hoping that his words would sound coherent. “Zechariah is under arrest at the Temple because of what happened yesterday at the sacrifice.”

Isaiah frowned slightly but said nothing.

“Zechariah says that you’re in danger, too, and that you shouldn’t prophesy anymore. He said you should leave Jerusalem right away.”

Isaiah nodded slowly. “Yes, I believe he’s right. I think my work here is finished for now.”

Isaiah’s reaction puzzled Eliakim. After his father’s speech about standing up for what you believed in, he’d expected Isaiah to reject the warning. He was disappointed that the prophet had given in so easily.

Isaiah rested his hand on Eliakim’s shoulder. “You were sent by Yahweh, and I thank you for coming. I heard the voice of God warning me to leave tonight, but I’ve been sitting here arguing with Him. I’m not afraid of King Ahaz. And I’m willing to face imprisonment like Zechariah for Yahweh’s sake.”

Eliakim glanced at Isaiah’s sleeping family.

“Yahweh knows every breath they take,” the prophet said, as if reading his thoughts. “If I left now, I would appear to be a coward, wouldn’t I? Afraid that God couldn’t protect my family or me? But I’m not afraid. That’s why I’ve been wrestling with God all night. A few minutes ago I asked Him to show me that leaving Jerusalem was His will. And then you came.”

Eliakim stared, amazed at Isaiah’s intimacy with Yahweh. Hilkiah talked to the God of Abraham all the time, but as far as Eliakim knew, God had never talked back. Isaiah made it sound as if he had regular

conversations with the Holy One, and Eliakim wondered how he’d attained such a relationship with Him. He remembered pouting about not being allowed to go to the Temple to see the heathen rituals, and he felt ashamed.

“So I guess I’ll be leaving Jerusalem,” Isaiah said with a sigh. He glanced around the room as if mentally starting to pack. “But it isn’t fear that makes me leave. Yahweh has other plans for me. I know that I’ll be starting a community of prophets to teach some of the younger ones, but beyond that … well, Yahweh will show me.”

Eliakim stood and edged toward the door. It seemed as though hours had passed since he’d left home. “Rabbi, I should go now. Abba will be worried.”

“I understand.”

Isaiah led him through the door and across the small courtyard again. Eliakim felt certain that the next time Yahweh talked to Isaiah, He would tell the prophet exactly what kind of a boy he really was. He longed to apologize for wanting to go to the Temple for the wrong reasons, but he couldn’t find the right words to say.

When they reached the street, Isaiah rested his hand on Eliakim’s shoulder and fixed his searching gaze on him once again. “Eliakim …” He pronounced the name slowly, respectfully. “Your name means ‘Yahweh will establish.’” Then the tone of Isaiah’s voice changed to one of authority and power, and Eliakim’s heart began to pound.

“In that day I will summon my servant, Eliakim son of Hilkiah. He will be a father to those who live in Jerusalem and to the house of Judah. I will place on his shoulder the key to the house of David; what he opens no one can shut, and what he shuts no one can open. I will drive him like a peg into a firm place; he will be a seat of honor for the house of his father. All the glory of his family will hang on him.”

Then, much to Eliakim’s surprise, the prophet embraced him. “Shalom, Eliakim. May Yahweh’s peace go with you.”

“And with you, Rabbi,” he breathed.

12

H
EZEKIAH SAT CROSS-LEGGED
on the carpet, gazing out of his window at the new Babylonian clock tower in the palace courtyard. He idly counted the steps that spiraled up the side until they disappeared from view behind the tower, then counted them as they spiraled down the other side again. He had been waiting here for his grandfather to come back for his lessons and had watched as the shadow inched its way up to where it now stood on the top step. Another lonely morning had come and gone, and still his grandfather hadn’t returned.

How long had it been, now? Hezekiah’s baby brother, Gedaliah, had been born on the day that their grandfather went away, and the servants said that the baby was forty days old today. The servants had been keeping Hezekiah away from his mother’s room, telling him he was a big boy who no longer needed his mama. Hezekiah was lonely, especially at night when he saw the empty bed beside his own. First his brother had gone—and now his grandfather.

He was trying to picture his grandfather’s face when he heard a knock on his door. Hezekiah jumped up and ran to open it, certain that Zechariah had returned at last. Instead, a tall, lanky stranger stood gazing down at him.

“Hello there. Are you Hezekiah?” he asked, smiling pleasantly.

The man had wavy black hair and dark skin, and his clothes were in a style Hezekiah had never seen before. He appeared to be in his early thirties, yet he had no beard or mustache. He carried an untidy pile of scrolls that threatened to topple from his arms any minute, and Hezekiah remembered all the scrolls in the Temple library. Maybe his grandfather had sent this stranger.

“Yes, I’m Hezekiah,” he answered hopefully.

“My name is Shebna, and I am very glad to meet you,” he said with a strange accent. “I have been hired by King Ahaz to be your tutor.” He smiled broadly, showing a straight, even row of white teeth. Hezekiah was too disappointed to return his smile. Shebna had been sent by King Ahaz, not by his grandfather after all.

“I already have a teacher,” he said at last.

“You do? But the king assured me that I was your very first tutor.”

“No, my grandpa is teaching me. I’m waiting here for him to come back.” He turned away and went to sit on the floor by the window again. Shebna followed him across the room.

“Oh? The king never mentioned anything about your grandfather. What is it that your grandfather teaches you?”

“About Yahweh and His Torah. I learned to recite the Shema. Do you want to hear it?” Hezekiah wanted to impress this stranger with what a good job his grandfather was already doing.

“All right,” Shebna replied, nodding slightly.

Hezekiah sat up very straight, concentrating on the words. “‘Hear, O Israel. Yahweh is our God—Yahweh alone. Love Yahweh your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength.”’

“Your grandfather taught you that?”

“He’s a Levite,” Hezekiah said proudly. “He wears a special robe and a turban when he helps the priests in Yahweh’s Temple.”

He had worn them on that last day—the day his grandfather had gone to tell the king that the new altar shouldn’t be in Yahweh’s Temple. Zechariah had hugged Hezekiah good-bye, saying,
“I’ll be back. I may be a little bit late, but I’ll be back.”
Hezekiah had promised to wait here for him, and he had kept his promise. Why hadn’t his grandfather kept his?

“So has your grandfather taught you about anything else besides Yahweh and the Torah?” Shebna asked, interrupting his thoughts.

The question puzzled him. “Well, no …” Those were the most important things to learn, weren’t they?

“Good. I like to teach my students in my own way, from the very beginning. And from now on, I am going to be your teacher.”

“Will we learn about Yahweh?”

The tutor looked uncomfortable. “No. I am not a Jew, I am Egyptian. I do not believe in Yahweh.”

Hezekiah stared up at him in fear. “Do you worship Molech?”

“No, I do not worship Molech, either. How did we ever get into this?” he muttered under his breath. “Look, I am going to be very honest with you right from the start. I do not believe in any gods at all, even the gods of my own nation, Egypt. I think they are all up here,” he said, tapping his high forehead. “In the minds of men. People make up gods to explain all the things they cannot understand. For example, if there is a drought, they say, ‘The gods must be angry.’ But I believe that there are droughts simply because it has not rained. That is all. I do not believe in the supernatural. I seek knowledge, not myths.”

Hezekiah turned away from him to stare out of the window. He didn’t like Shebna. He wanted his grandfather.

“What is the matter?” Shebna asked him. “Why did you make that face?”

“Yahweh is
real
!” he replied angrily. “He’s like the wind—that’s why you can’t see Him. My grandpa didn’t make him up!”

“Very well. We will not talk of Yahweh anymore. King Ahaz knows all about my views on religion, but I am not here to teach you about that.” He smiled his broad, even smile again. “Would you like to start your lessons today? I am eager to see what kind of a student you will be. Can you read?” Hezekiah shook his head. “Would you like to learn how?”

“I want my grandpa.” He felt tears stinging his eyes, and he quickly rubbed them away.

Shebna gave a forced smile and sprawled on the floor beside him, dumping his scrolls in a heap. “I will make you a bargain, Hezekiah. We will take turns—first, you answer a question for me, and then I will answer one for you. Is that fair enough?”

Before Hezekiah could reply, Shebna pulled a scroll from the pile and unrolled it. “This scroll tells a story. Once I teach you to read, you will know what that story is about.” He produced a small clay tablet and began carving on it with a stylus. “This is the word for
house
. See? Now, why don’t you look at this story and see if you can find
house
anywhere on the scroll.” Shebna pushed the scroll and the tablet across the floor in front of Hezekiah.

For a moment he wasn’t sure if he should read it or not, afraid of being disloyal to his grandfather. But the Temple library had been his grandfather’s favorite place, and its rows of scrolls had captured Hezekiah’s imagination. He longed to unlock their mysteries and read about all his favorite heroes. In the end his curiosity won, and he began to study Shebna’s scroll. It was a jumble of strange markings, and he nearly pushed it away when suddenly he spotted the word Shebna had drawn on the tablet. Then he saw it again and again, and he felt the power of unlocking a secret. He could read!

“There … there … there and there,” he replied, pointing to several places on the scroll.

Shebna smiled broadly. “That was very good. You found all of them. You have learned to read one word already. Soon you will be able to read the entire story. Now, what about numbers? Do you know your numbers?”

“I can count. And I can name the twelve tribes of Israel. Want to hear them?”

“Not now.” Shebna scraped the tablet clean and began drawing circles in the soft clay. “Suppose you had six figs and you ate two. How many would—”

“Four.” Hezekiah answered before Shebna finished, and the tutor’s thick black eyebrows rose in surprise.

“And suppose I had five figs. How many would we—”

“Nine.”

“Have you done this before?”

Hezekiah thought the question was ridiculous. “I’ve eaten figs lots of times.”

“That is not what I meant. Anyway,” Shebna quickly continued, “if we wanted to divide up all the figs between us—”

“You’d have to cut one in half,” Hezekiah said, already picturing them in his mind, “or it wouldn’t be fair.”

Shebna’s eyes widened in surprise. “I did not realize my division problem worked out unevenly, but you solved it anyway. You seem quite bright.”

“Can I ask you a question now?” Hezekiah asked.

Shebna smiled weakly. “Certainly. That was the bargain.”

“Why do you smile all the time if you’re not really happy inside?”

Shebna’s smile faded, and he looked at Hezekiah in surprise. “And what makes you say I am not happy?”

“Because your eyes aren’t happy.”

Shebna leaned back on his elbows as he studied him. “You seem quite perceptive, as well as bright. Tutoring you could be a tremendous challenge. But you do not like me very much, do you?”

Hezekiah shrugged. “I don’t know…” He gazed down at the scrolls on the floor in front of him, feeling sad again. Then he remembered that it was his turn to ask Shebna another question. “Where’s my grandpa? He said he’d come back for my lessons, but it’s been days and days.”

And for the first time Hezekiah formed the question in his mind that he had tried so hard not to think about. If his grandfather had abandoned him, would Yahweh abandon him, too?

“I do not know where your grandfather is,” Shebna sighed. “That is the truth. I will try to find out for you. But in the meantime, the king has hired me to teach you. Is there something you would like to learn about?”

Hezekiah thought of all the soldiers who had come for his brothers and him. The men had been armed with swords and spears, and he’d been helpless against them. If his grandfather and Yahweh could no longer protect him, then Hezekiah needed to protect himself. “I want to learn to be a soldier, like King David,” he said.

“Really? Do you like to read about warriors and battles?” Shebna shuffled quickly through his scrolls. “I have many stories about brave warriors and the battles they fought. Perhaps we can read one of them.”

“Do you have the one about David and Goliath?” For the first time, Hezekiah was almost interested.

“Maybe … somewhere …” The scrolls rustled noisily as Shebna rifled through the pile. “Let me see. There must be one here …”

“My grandpa has lots of stories about King David in the Temple library. He’ll let you borrow some.”

“Yes, I am certain he would,” Shebna said. For some reason, he sounded annoyed. He abruptly pushed his scrolls aside and studied Hezekiah again. “So, you want to be a soldier, yes? Can you shoot a bow and arrow? Fight with a sword? Throw a spear? Can you ride a horse?”

Hezekiah shook his head to each of these questions.

“Would you like to learn how?”

“Yes!” Hezekiah couldn’t help feeling excited. If he had his own sword and learned to use it, he could save himself from Molech. He wouldn’t have to wait for Yahweh or his grandfather, who might never come back again.

“Follow me, then,” Shebna said as he stood. “First we will go to the stables and find you a horse, then to the armory to get a sword… .”