In the stifling heat of 848 b.c., King Jehoram ordered the slaughter of his six brothers. Blood pooled on the stone floors of the Jerusalem palace. The air hung thick with the smell of copper and fear. An atmosphere of relentless paranoia choked the hill country. Guards stood watch with sweat stinging their eyes. They waited for an attack from the revolting Edomite forces holding the arid southern ridges. True rest never arrived. Consolation found the surviving commoners only through the slow, mechanical execution of divine justice.
Jehoram seized power to secure his survival. He married the daughter of Ahab to forge a political shield. This alliance brought northern religious practices into southern Judah. Elijah sent a written warning from afar. The prophet condemned the king for abandoning the God of his ancestors. Producing a written document required cured animal skin and specialized carbon black pigment. A skilled scribe charged nearly three months of a laborer's wages for such work. Edom broke away from Judah's control. The Edomites crowned their own king. Libnah revolted shortly after. The mechanical gears of international tribute stopped turning. The loss of Edom severed Judah from the lucrative copper mines of the Arabah valley.
The physical rot of the king mirrored the decay of his administration. A catastrophic intestinal disease struck Jehoram. His bowels prolapsed over the course of two excruciating years. Men trade their own bloodlines for absolute control only to realize a bronze crown cannot cure a rotting gut. His subjects refused to light the customary burial fires in his honor.
A man can build a fortress of dead rivals, but he cannot negotiate with the disease inside his own belly.
Jehoram died in severe pain. Men buried him in the City of David but barred his corpse from the tombs of the kings. He left behind a fractured kingdom and a grave completely devoid of human regret.