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I want to continue to serve with you in your new government. But I can never say that I believe in Yahweh. I would be lying if I did.”
    “And I’m determined to build my kingdom on Yahweh’s laws. I don’t know how we can reconcile that.”
    Both men were silent for a moment as thunder rumbled in the distance. Finally Shebna said, “Your Majesty, consider this: I have read your code of laws, your Torah, and found them to be good laws. I would have no problem conforming to them, and I would even submit to your rite of circumcision. But you must understand that my religion is only external. I have no faith in any god.”
    “I’m sure there are men in my court who will look me in the eye and tell me they’re believers when, in reality, they have no more faith than you do. You could have done the same thing just to obtain power. At least you’re honest.” Hezekiah thought for a moment about what Shebna had suggested. “You would really agree to follow all the laws, Shebna—including circumcision?”
    “Yes. But you had better think it through carefully, Your Majesty. You are certain to meet with opposition to my appointment. My religious views are not a secret, nor would I lie about them if anyone asked. I would not wish to cause a controversy for you so early in your reign.”
    Hezekiah knew that he needed Shebna. There was no one else he could trust. The thought that Shebna’s appointment would spark a controversy didn’t deter him. He made up his mind. “I’m the King of Judah, Shebna. I don’t need to justify my decisions to anyone. I want you to serve as my palace administrator.”

4
    T HE EERIE SILENCE THAT suddenly filled the grove of trees terrified Jerusha more than the sound of screaming had. She lay on the ground, numb with shock and pain, listening. The agonized cries had all stopped. The other girls were dead. And now Jerusha’s captor would kill her, too. He rolled off of her and stood. She watched in horror as he removed a short dagger from his belt.
    “No—please! Please don’t kill me.” Her voice was barely audible.
    She stared up at his dark face and saw him clearly for the first time. He was lean and muscular with wavy black hair and a short, squared-off beard. His deep-set eyes looked cold and cruel. She held up her hands as if to fend off his knife thrust.
    “Please don’t!” she begged.
    His eyes narrowed as if considering her plea. Jerusha braced herself for the first painful stab of his knife, but he reached down and grabbed her hand instead, jerking her to her feet. Jerusha could barely stand, much less walk, but he shoved her down the path ahead of him, pressing the point of his knife to the base of her spine to keep her moving.
    As she stumbled through the trees, Jerusha discovered the fate of the other captives. Their bodies lay scattered all over the grove. When she saw her cousin Serah, recognizable only by the embroidered wedding dress, Jerusha fell to her knees and vomited. Her Assyrian captor laughed. It sounded out of place amid the horror all around her. Then he suddenly grabbed Jerusha’s hair and thrust her head back, pressing the blade of his knife to her throat. Fear pulsed through her. She was going to die.
    But a moment later he released her. He said something in his language, and his thick brows arched as if asking her a question. Jerusha understood. He was offering her a choice: submit to him or die. She had only a moment to decide. She bowed before him, clinging to his feet.
    “Please, I’ll do anything… . I don’t want to die.” He laughed and pulled her upright by her hair, then shoved her down the path again.
    They found the other soldiers waiting for them beside the horses. Jerusha’s captor began barking orders, and she noticed that the men moved quickly to obey him. He was older than the others—probably in his mid-thirties—and clearly in charge of the group. One of the men tied Jerusha’s hands and tossed her like baggage across the back