Gods And Kings (26 page)
The tutor hesitated for such a long time that Hezekiah wondered if his grandfather was dead, too. At last Shebna drew a deep breath. “I am sorry if I misled you when I agreed to find an answer to your question yesterday. I can teach you to read and to work with numbers. I will gladly teach you everything I know about nature and about history and geography. But if you have a question about your family or about religion, you must ask your father.”
His father.
Hezekiah’s grief hardened into hatred at the mention of his father. He was the one who was making everything in Hezekiah’s life change. His father had ordered the sacrifices to Molech. His father had built a pagan altar in Yahweh’s Temple, and Zechariah had gone up there to tell him it was wrong.
“Your father is very unpredictable,”
his grandfather had said.
“I’m not sure how he will react.”
His father was the reason Zechariah had never returned.
Hezekiah lowered his head again, weeping with grief and helpless rage. His father was the cause of all his sorrow. But he was the king of Judah, and Hezekiah was powerless against him.
After a long time, he felt Shebna’s hand on his shoulder again. “You are not alone,” he said quietly. “I am your friend. If you want to talk, perhaps it will help you feel better.”
Hezekiah wanted his terrible pain to go away. It was too hard to feel this way. He hurt so much he could scarcely breathe. But he didn’t want to talk to Shebna.
“When the rainy season comes,” Shebna continued, “it seems as if it will never end. But then one day the clouds part and the sun shines again. It will be that way with your sadness, too. There is so much I want to teach you about the world. And believe me, the sunlight of knowledge is a wonderful healer. When you are learning something new, you will begin to forget your loss for a little while. I can help you forget your terrible sadness, if you will let me.”
Hezekiah wanted to believe him. But then he remembered his mother’s empty room, remembered that she was dead, and he began to cry all over again.
“Would you like to be alone for a while?” Shebna asked. “Or shall I stay?”
Hezekiah didn’t think he could bear it if one more person left him. “Stay,” he whispered.
“Very well.”
Hezekiah sobbed until he had no tears left. When they finally died away, he felt empty inside. Shebna rose to his feet, stretching his lanky body.
“When you are ready, Hezekiah, I have selected a horse for you. A trainer is waiting to teach you to ride it. And I have another surprise. The armory is crafting a sword just your size, for you to practice with.”
Hezekiah raised his head and wiped his face on his sleeve. “Will it be sharp?” he asked in a hoarse voice.
Shebna smiled. “Would you like it to be?”
Hezekiah nodded.
“Then let’s go tell them, shall we?” He extended a hand to help Hezekiah to his feet.
Ahaz … shut the doors
of the Lord’s temple and set up altars
at every street corner in Jerusalem. In every
town in Judah he built high places to burn
sacrifices to other gods and provoked the
Lord, the God of his fathers, to anger.
2 C
HRONICLES 2 8 : 2 4 – 2 5 NIV
H
EZEKIAH GLANCED AT THE
clock tower in the courtyard outside the window of his study. It was time for his appointment with King Ahaz. He rose from his seat beside Shebna and straightened his robes, then raked his fingers through his beard to smooth it. He wished he could avoid this meeting altogether.
“I’m a grown man, Shebna. Why does being summoned by my father always make me feel like a child?”
“He is the king,” Shebna replied, rolling up the scroll they had been studying. “It is his job to make everyone feel belittled.”
“No, it’s more than that. No matter what I do, he makes me feel like I’ve failed to measure up to his expectations. And I never know what to expect when he summons me. He never tells me the reason beforehand.”
Shebna set down the scroll and leaned back. He was now in his late forties with silver streaks through his dark hair. His lanky body was thinner than ever, as if every morsel he ate fueled a mind that was always at work, analyzing, reasoning. “Did the king summon you to the throne room or to his private chambers?” he asked. “That should give you a clue.”
“Private chambers. A personal matter, I presume.”
“Hmm. Relationships between fathers and sons can be notoriously difficult, especially for two men who are as different as you and your father are.”
“Yes, and he’s also the king—that makes our relationship impossible.” Hezekiah started toward the door, but Shebna touched his sleeve, stopping him.
“A word of advice? Be careful. King Ahaz has an unpredictable temper. Whatever happens, do not make him angry.” The worried look on Shebna’s face surprised Hezekiah. He’d never realized that his tutor was so afraid of Ahaz. But now was not the time to ask him why.
“Thanks for the advice,” Hezekiah said. He hurried away to face whatever surprises lay ahead.
King Ahaz aroused a broad range of emotions in Hezekiah, from fear and hatred to pity and revulsion. But those emotions rarely included respect—and never, that he could recall, had they included love. His bitterness extended back as far as he could remember, though the exact cause of it was long forgotten. He avoided Ahaz as much as possible and dreaded being summoned to see him.
A servant opened the door for him to his father’s opulent chambers. Thick carpets warmed the stone floors and Assyrian tapestries decorated the walls. The scent of incense filled every corner of the room, sticking in Hezekiah’s throat. He bowed low, steeling himself for a possible confrontation and remembering Shebna’s warning. Regardless of what happened, he would not arouse Ahaz’s anger.
“You wanted to see me, Your Majesty?”
“Yes. I may have some interesting news for you.” Ahaz reclined on his divan among a clutter of silken cushions, his expression one of boredom. Hezekiah wondered if he had been summoned to be Ahaz’s entertainment. His father didn’t offer him a seat but left him standing while he took his time coming to the point. “Pour my son some wine,” he told his servant.
“No, thank you,” Hezekiah said, holding up his hand. He hoped that his refusal wouldn’t irritate his father, but it wasn’t even noon. He saw Ahaz eying him narrowly.
“How old are you now?” he said at last.
“I’m twenty-five, sir.”
“Twenty-five … is that so? Well, I’m fairly pleased with your education so far. You’ve done well in your studies and your military training.” He rose ponderously from his seat to wander around the room, occasionally picking up some trinket and examining it casually.
“Tell me—has Shebna taught you how to conduct yourself at formal ceremonial proceedings?”
Hezekiah considered how to answer. He knew that his father conducted frenzied sacrifices at altars all over the city, and they disgusted him. “If you mean taking part in formal religious rituals, I really don’t have much interest in—”
“No, no,” Ahaz said impatiently. “I don’t mean religious sacrifices. I know you never participate in those.” The truth was that Ahaz rarely allowed Hezekiah to join him at public ceremonies or even at the Temple’s worship services. The physical contrast between father and son was great, and it was almost as if Ahaz didn’t want his heir to compete with him in the public eye. He kept Hezekiah in the background as much as possible.
“No, what I meant was, how much do you know about formal diplomatic protocol?”
“I’m fluent in a few languages,” Hezekiah said, trying to sound patient. He was already tired of his father’s games and wondered where these questions were leading. “And I’ve studied the customs of international diplomacy, if that’s what you mean.”
“Yes. That’s exactly what I mean. And do you like to travel?”
“I’ve traveled throughout most of our nation, Your Majesty, and it was quite enjoyable.” The prospect of leaving Jerusalem’s confining walls excited Hezekiah, but he pretended indifference, unwilling to give Ahaz any leverage over him.
“Good, good,” Ahaz replied, and for no apparent reason he began to laugh. But his laughter triggered a coughing fit that left the king wheezing and flushed. Hezekiah hesitated, unsure how to react. Should he express his concern—or would sympathy only highlight his father’s weakness? In the end he said nothing, and Ahaz’s servant helped the king back to his divan and refilled his wineglass. Ahaz took a few sips.
“Tell my cupbearer to send something stronger than this,” he said.
When the servant was gone, Ahaz looked up at Hezekiah again.
“It’s time I arranged a marriage for you. Would you like that?”
Ahaz’s condescending manner infuriated Hezekiah, and he had difficulty hiding it. His father was toying with him, hinting at travel, then tossing in a marriage. He knew the danger of contradicting his father, but he couldn’t stop himself from saying, “I already have several concubines, sir. A legal wife doesn’t interest me at all.”
“Well, you’d better get interested,” Ahaz growled. “My trade minister is negotiating an agreement, and if he’s successful, I’ve decided that his daughter will be wed to you.”
The idea of being used as a prize, a reward for doing the king a favor, enraged Hezekiah. For a moment he couldn’t speak.
“The girl’s name is Hephzibah,” Ahaz continued. “She sounds
delightful,
doesn’t she?” He laughed at his own joke, a pun on her name, which meant
my delight is in her
. Hezekiah nodded mutely, knowing that his opinion didn’t matter. Ahaz had already made up his mind. He would be commanded to marry her.
“Hephzibah’s father is negotiating a trade agreement with Tyre. Are you interested in traveling with him as an envoy?”
“Yes, of course. But Tyre? Why would—” Hezekiah stopped short, catching himself. As much as he liked the idea of travel, the trade agreement made no sense to him.
“But—
what
?” Ahaz asked impatiently.
He hesitated, aware of the danger in questioning Ahaz’s decision. But Shebna had taught him to think logically, and Hezekiah couldn’t help speaking his thoughts. “Why would we want a trade agreement with Tyre, since we have no direct access routes to their territory?”
Ahaz looked at him blankly. “What are you talking about?”
“When the Philistines conquered our territory in the foothills, they took control of all the northern passes through the mountains to the coastal trade route. In order to trade with Tyre, we’d have to go through Philistine territory and pay duty or else go farther north and—”
Hezekiah stopped when he saw his father’s face slowly reddening. Too late, he realized the mistake he’d made in demonstrating his superior knowledge to Ahaz.
“But you’re aware of all this, sir,” he mumbled. “I didn’t mean to imply …” But Hezekiah knew from his father’s expression that Ahaz had been ignorant of the situation.
The king sprang from his couch to confront him. “You have all the answers, I suppose? Maybe you think you’d be a better king than I am?”
“I wasn’t trying to—”
“Don’t interrupt me! I’m still the king of this nation, not you! Although you’d jump at the chance to take over, wouldn’t you?”
Hezekiah didn’t reply.
“
Wouldn’t
you?” Ahaz demanded, glaring up at him.
“No, sir. I don’t want to take over. But I do feel that I’m capable of holding a position of responsibility in your government, and I’m willing to serve in any—”
“I’m sure you are, just like Absalom served
his
father, King David, by staging a rebellion!” Ahaz looked him over accusingly, as if Hezekiah had chosen to be tall and lean and muscular in order to spite his overweight father. “I know the fickleness of the masses. The last thing I need is for you to persuade them that you’d make a better ruler than I would.”
His father’s accusations angered Hezekiah, and in spite of his resolution, he lost his temper in self-defense. “I never said I wanted to take over! But since I
am
going to be the king someday, why can’t you at least allow me to attend the Advisory Council meetings once in a while so I can get acquainted with how the nation—”
