Work Text:
King Josiah stalked through the palace corridors, his robes billowing in his wake. He massaged his temples in an effort to ward off an impending headache. If he had to listen to one more argument among his councilors—
He felt more than saw the person who stepped into his path from an adjoining corridor, crashing into him like a runaway wagon, sending scrolls of parchment in all directions. He was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he hardly realized what had happened until a familiar voice broke through the confusion.
“Oh, Majesty, forgive me!”
Josiah blinked, shaking his head clear, and looked up from the floor to see a woman with dark eyes bent over him. “Moriah?”
Moriah blushed to the roots of her thick, dark hair and scrambled to her feet. “I am so sorry, Majesty. I was absorbed in my thoughts and—” She broke off, offering the king a hand.
He shot her a knowing look and rolled to his feet, ignoring her offer of help. “Lost in your thoughts, eh?” He brushed off his robes. “The day wouldn't end properly, would it, if you weren't?”
The stricken look in her eyes vanished, and she crossed her arms over her chest, pointing a raised eyebrow at him. “You weren't exactly paying attention, either.”
He chuckled, and dusted off her robes, and then bent to retrieve the various scrolls. “Guilty as charged.” He handed her three scrolls to match the four she had picked up.
“Where are you flying to in such a hurry?” she asked, cradling the scrolls like a child in her arms.
“Away from them.” He gestured behind him with a wave of his hand.
“Ah,” she said with understanding. “Have you eaten?”
Josiah shook his head, and Moriah smiled invitingly. “Join me, then.”
He returned her smile, feeling the familiar stirring within him that always occurred when she looked at him like that. He gestured down the corridor. “Lead the way.”
She gave an indelicate snort. “Precede the King? Don't the courtiers whisper about me enough as it is? Royalty first.” And she nodded in the direction Josiah should walk.
Josiah half-bowed to her and acceded to her wishes, starting down the corridor in the direction of her suites. She was right—there wasn't a courtier in the palace who hadn't talked about Moriah in hushed tones. How could they help it? Thirty, unmarried, and learned—all very poor qualities for a woman of Judah to possess. Few women were educated, and none for pleasure, but Moriah seemed to thrive in the world of ideas in ways even the male scribes and priests did not. While all of her female friends were marrying and bearing children, Moriah had her nose buried in scrolls.
Most people avoided her, thinking she must be a little mad to choose learning over motherhood. It was only the fact that her mother, Huldah, was a prophetess, that kept her from being shunned altogether—and the fact that Harhas, her great-grandfather, was the keeper of the wardrobe, a position of influence in the court, for he had the ear of Josiah. It was Harhas, in fact, who had piqued Josiah's interest in Moriah and caused the king, then only fifteen years of age, to seek out this strange woman.
That had been nine years ago, and Josiah had come to count Moriah among his most trusted advisors—in an informal role, of course. Though she hardly scrupled to tell him exactly what she thought, when she thought it. Josiah suspected Moriah would fill her mother's shoes when the time came.
Assuming the time came. As he entered Moriah's public suites, he rubbed his temples again at the thought of what he had left behind in the council chambers.
“What happened back there?” Moriah asked, as if reading his mind. She carefully placed the scrolls on a worktable in the corner.
Josiah flopped down next to the table, and proceeded to help himself to the food thereon. “The same thing that always happens.” He popped a date into his mouth. “Eighteen years I've been king, and the council is still arguing over whether to permit the sacred groves of my father's and grandfather's idols to be rebuilt.”
A look of terror crossed Moriah's features. “You're not considering it, are you?”
With a sigh, Josiah shook his head. “I would have thought my orders to rebuild the House of the Lord would have put to rest all such debate, but alas, it has not, and I know not how long I can hold out against them.”
Moriah dropped to her knees next to him and grabbed his hand as he reached for another date, startling him. “Josiah, you cannot permit them to have their way.”
His eyes widened and he looked at her anew. Rarely did she address him by his name, and he pushed himself upright, searching her face. “You are quite distressed by this, aren't you?”
Tears fell unheeded from her eyes. “The Lord is the one, true God. All other gods are false, and if you follow them, your end will be no better than your father's or grandfather's.”
Josiah reached out his hand to brush away her tears, resisting the temptation to take her in his arms. He often forgot that her heart was wholly given to the Lord—a more likely reason than her strange ways for why she remained unmarried. But it was moments such as this made him question whether his feelings for her were truly friendly, or more than brotherly affection. She was beautiful, to be certain, and at times he desired her, but he knew romance would ruin what they had.
“Tell me what to do,” he murmured. He would do anything for her, anything to keep her happy and keep the tears from her eyes. “Most of the council still sees me as the eight-year-old child who was crowned King. My word alone will not convince them.”
Rubbing her nose on her sleeve, she rose to her feet and crossed the room to the worktable. Pushing aside various scrolls, she pulled a heavy one from the pile and carried it to him, laying it at his feet.
“What is this?”
“The Book of the Law,” replied Moriah.
He glanced up at her in amazement. “Where did you get this?”
Moriah cast her eyes upon the scroll as if upon a loved one. “I wrote it.” She glanced up at him, her gaze insistent. “It is the Law of the Lord. I've compiled it from ancient scrolls.”
Josiah stared slack-jawed at her. “How long—?”
“I've worked on it for ten years,” she said.
“Does anyone know of this?”
“Only my mother.” Moriah drew her fingers across the scroll in an elegant caress. “It is with her blessing that I have done this.”
Josiah stood and paced the length of her suite for three full passes before speaking, pausing only to stare at the scroll coming and going. “This may be exactly what I need to silence those councilors forever.” He looked at her. “May I take this book?”
Moriah rose and stepped towards him. “I don't think that would be a good idea. They will ask you where you found it. What will you say?”
“I will tell them the truth!” He grabbed her by the shoulders, grinning. “Do you know what you have done? What this will mean for Judah?”
She shook her head and pulled away from him. “Majesty, be realistic. I am a woman. If you tell them I have given this to you, it will be as useful to you as scraps from a table.”
“Moriah—”
“It is not how I would wish it,” she interrupted, “but it is the way of things. Do not ruin this opportunity by trying to change how things are! You will fail on all counts.”
Josiah's face fell, and he turned away. “You are right, of course.” He returned to recline at the table. “What do you suggest?”
Moriah knelt beside the scroll. “I will take it this evening and place it in the House of the Lord. Hilkiah the high priest will go there tomorrow. I will leave it in such a way that he will find it.”
Josiah sighed, and reached out to brush a wisp of hair from her face. “No one will know what a great work you have done.”
“You know,” she said softly, taking his hand and pressing it to her lips. “The Lord knows. That is enough for me.”
He looked into her eyes, his will giving way to hers. The Law of the Lord would rule the land. He would make certain of it. It was what he wanted, of course, but more importantly, it was what she wanted.
With a smile, he leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on her forehead.