The place was a carnival.

There were golden horses by the gate, leading the bronze chariot of the sun god.

There was a nashara grove of hune poles tall and foul.

There were altars to bail, bail inside the temple.

There were altars to the moon and the sun and the stars and to the Canaanite pantheon and

to the Assyrian gods and to Babylonian deities.

There were stone hats inside the temple for male cult prostitutes.

There were priests of every variety in black robes and veils and tall hats with silver

necklaces, amulets and charms for sale.

In the distance, upon the heights of the hills, fires burned and oily smoke went up like

snakes uncoiling into the sky.

It had been that way a long time.

Josiah had never known otherwise.

He did now.

He waited with his guard and tears shone on his face.

In front of him, the priests of the gods hid their ceremonial daggers.

The people assembled, the orders had been clear.

Come to the temple, no exceptions, elders and prophets and women and children from the

greatest to the least they came.

In ordinary times, that would have been terrifying.

In Israel, it was not unprecedented for a king to fill a temple and then kill everyone

inside it.

...