Candace by Heidi Dru Kortman

 

Candace

Acts 8:27

 

 

Though I could see gazelles on the plain, I waved the trainer and his cheetahs away. A good queen does not always please herself. The eunuch of my treasury stepped forward. I’d added him to my staff when I learned of his accounting skill, and he has proven my assessment of his character correct. He opened the record, and reported on tributes of cattle and crops.

“How many slaves can I afford to increase the production of my gold mines?”

My treasurer rolled the scroll to another entry and informed me that the coffee we’ve sold to the Arabians has produced a budget surplus. I nodded, and dismissed him, but he lingered, kneeling.

“Do you have another report?”

“No, great queen,” he said, “I have a request.”

I extended my scepter and he continued.

“With your gracious permission, my queen, I would go to Jerusalem—to worship there.”

“Do you believe in the God of the Jews, then?”

“Yes, great queen. He is the God who despises false weights and measures.”

I smiled. Good has happened in my country since he first told me that truth. If a visit to Jerusalem will teach him more beneficial things, then I would be remiss in my responsibility as a ruler if I denied it.

“You may use a ceremonial chariot, and my third charioteer,” I said, and the eunuch put his forehead to the floor. “You also have the authority to buy teams of fresh horses as you require them. I will give you a week’s time in Jerusalem. Return quickly.”

Four days later, the first team of my horses was returned to the royal stables. In time, six more horses arrived from Egypt, and another pair from Arabia. The eunuch proved himself as careful with state funds while abroad as he was at home.

Certain of my other courtiers tried to raise doubts about my treasurer, suggesting the eunuch’s willingness to serve me would weaken with distance. By speaking what was in their hearts, the fools robbed themselves. They serve me no longer and I have made sure that they can serve no one else.

My charioteer returned, a month later. The eunuch stepped down, covered in dust, clutching a fat scroll. He bowed low.

“Tell me of the temple of this God who blesses fair weights and measures,” I commanded, and my treasurer shook his shaven head.

“I am a eunuch, great queen, not permitted to enter its walls. I could stand outside,” he said, “and hear the music, which uplifted my soul.”  Closing his eyes, he rocked from foot to foot.

“Lingering where you are unwanted is unlike you.”

“I spent my week in Jerusalem,” he said, “seeking any scribe willing to teach me. I didn’t find one, but I bought a scroll of the prophecies of Isaiah. It is full of wonderful words.”

I moved to the shade of the colonnade, and the eunuch followed, still talking. He laid the scroll on a table near my chair, and opened the parchment. Symbols I did not recognize covered it from side to side.

I lifted my eyebrows. “What is that?”

“Queen Candace, it is the language that the Jews read,” he said, and began to translate. “He was led like a sheep to the slaughter, and as a lamb before the shearer is silent, so he did not open his mouth. In his humiliation he was deprived of justice. Who can speak of his descendants? For his life was taken from the earth.”

I interrupted. “Is this prophet, Isaiah, speaking about himself?”

My treasurer smiled. “Majesty, he said, “that is exactly the question I asked the one who taught me.”

“You said you didn’t find a scribe while you were in Jerusalem. Explain.”

“A teacher found me,” he said, “while I was on the road from Jerusalem to Gaza. I invited him into the chariot, and he showed me that these verses were written about the Messiah, Jesus Christ, the Son of God, the one who saves.”

Joy overflowed in my treasurer’s voice, but I rose. “Go. Become familiar with the records submitted in your absence.” The eunuch opened his mouth, but I held up my hand. “You are a good and faithful servant, and you may speak of these things again another day.”

The next afternoon, the eunuch returned to my presence.

“Great queen, he said, “the scribe who compiled these records submitted during my journey was truthful. I have seen the store rooms myself.”

“Very good.” When the cool of the evening comes, I will have the eunuch read to me.

 

Heidi Dru Kortman DTM

God's gifts and call are irrevocable.

heididrukortman.com.

 

Heidi Dru Kortman, a CWG Apprentice graduate, ACFW member since 2004, and Word Weaver member has published devotionals in various newsletters, and a collected volume of devotionals. Her poetry, flash fiction, and short stories have appeared in small magazines, and a website. She is applying herself to the task of writing smoothly polished fiction.