The Strength Of His Hand Part 26

"You're right. Let's go." He hauled his aching body upright and followed his aide along the top of the wall to the signal tower, avoiding the frightened eyes of the soldiers they pa.s.sed. These boys weren't seasoned warriors like the a.s.syrians. They were farmers and shepherds, young men barely old enough to grow beards. They should be home plowing their fields and flirting with the village girls, not facing battle-hardened professionals who outnumbered them ten to one. He wanted to weep at the injustice of such a mismatched fight.

As he wearily climbed the stairs to the tower, Jonadab looked up at a perfect twilight sky, slowly fading from deep purple to black. At least he had managed to hold the a.s.syrians at bay for another day. He silently prayed for one more.

"What's the message, sir?" the signalman asked.

Should he tell King Hezekiah the truth? That Mizpeh, one of his strongest fortified cities, would probably fall before tomorrow night? And if Mizpeh couldn't hold out against the a.s.syrians, even with Jonadab commanding its defense, then none of the other fortified cities stood a chance of surviving, either-including Jerusalem. Its defenses contained weaknesses, too, and in time the a.s.syrians would find them and exploit them. He remembered Eliakim's warning and knew that he had been right-they had greatly underestimated their enemy and overestimated their allies.

Jonadab peered through the narrow slit at the valley below, where fields and vineyards once stood. The shadowy forms of a.s.syrian tents stretched toward the horizon in every direction, dotted with flickering campfires. Tiny Judah didn't stand a chance. The signalman was waiting for his message.

"Tell them ..." Jonadab sighed. "Tell them we're still under heavy enemy attack, that we're waiting for the Egyptians-but that we will defend Mizpeh to the very last man."

"Yes, sir."

"Let me know if you get a reply. I'll be in the command bunker."

The moon perched on the horizon, illuminating the city streets as Jonadab climbed down from the wall and made his way to his command post. With so much light, the a.s.syrians would prod the slaves to continue building the earthworks throughout the night. The battering rams would also hammer relentlessly, with a fresh s.h.i.+ft of archers covering for them. Jonadab could feel the pounding blows deep in his gut, even though he no longer stood on the wall.

Sennacherib's lightning campaign would continue to rage all night while the city of Mizpeh huddled in uneasy slumber. Without Egyptian help, he couldn't possibly stop them. Jonadab sank onto the bench behind the plank table in his bunker and rested his head in his hands.

He was trying to think of a way to halt the construction of the earthworks without killing the Judean slaves, when he fell into an exhausted sleep.

He awoke in a daze when his aide shook his shoulder. The light of early dawn filled the bunker along with the sound of heavy fighting. "General! One of the battering rams has breached the south wall near the gate! They've finished the ramp, too! a.s.syrians are pouring into the city!"

Jonadab scrambled to his feet, unsheathing his sword, willing his stiff legs and groggy mind to move faster. "Divide all the troops!"

Jonadab ordered. "Have them cover both sectors. Go! Now!"

But his aide didn't move from where he stood, blocking Jonadab's path.

"Sir, it's hopeless. We've already lost."

"If you're not going to follow my orders, then get out of my way!"

"No. I won't let you go out there, sir." He gripped Jonadab's shoulders and held him back. "It's hand-to-hand combat, and we're hopelessly outnumbered. We can't possibly win."

"Maybe not, but I intend to die fighting! Now let go of me!"

"Change out of your uniform, sir. They'll see that you're the commander-in-chief, and they'll-"

"You're wasting time! Let me go!"

"Listen to me. I've brought you some civilian clothes... ." Suddenly Jonadab noticed that his aide wasn't wearing a military uniform.

"You miserable coward! My men are fighting for their lives! How do you think they'll feel when they see me in civilian clothes, trying to save my own neck?"

"Sir, the a.s.syrians always torture high-ranking officers, and-"

"Get out of my way!" Jonadab finally managed to twist free, and he strode to the door, sword in hand. "I've worn this uniform all my life-and if G.o.d wills, I'll die in it."

22.

SHORTLY AFTER SUNSET, King Hezekiah climbed the stairs to the signal tower on the north wall of Jerusalem. As he surveyed the quiet countryside on this chilly spring evening, he found it difficult to imagine that a terrible slaughter was taking place just miles away near his northern borders. "Any word from General Jonadab?" he asked the two soldiers standing guard.

"No, Your Majesty. Not yet."

He remembered Jonadab's last message, five nights ago-We will defend Mizpeh to the very last man-and he breathed a silent prayer for him. The general had been Hezekiah's friend since childhood, and he wished in vain that he had ordered him to stay in Jerusalem. Hezekiah had made too many mistakes in the past few months. He couldn't undo any of them.

"There's a signal, Your Majesty."

A pale star of light blinked on the horizon. Hezekiah waited for the translation, his hands squeezed into fists.

"It's from Michmash, Your Majesty. They say there's still no word from Jonadab in Mizpeh, but they presume the city is lost. The a.s.syrians have moved south to besiege Ramah. Michmash and Geba are preparing for the worst." The light blinked off. Hezekiah waited a few more minutes, but the horizon remained dark.

"Send a messenger to me at once if you receive any word from the general," he said. He turned and started the long walk downhill to his palace, wis.h.i.+ng he could do more for his friend than carry a useless weight of worry and sorrow. Lately, the news from his allies had been depressing, growing worse and worse. The Phoenicians had been conquered, then the a.s.syrians had thrown their forces against the Philistines. His own city of Lachish, governed by his brother Gedaliah, was also under siege. Emperor Sennacherib himself was encamped there, using Lachish as his headquarters while his troops finished destroying the Philistines. Then Sennacherib would likely push deeper into Judah, closing toward Jerusalem from the south as well as from the north, gripping Hezekiah in a stranglehold. He had sent desperate pleas to Pharaoh for the help he'd promised but had received no reply. Against his will, Hezekiah was forced to conclude that little hope remained for his nation's survival.

When he reached the wall surrounding the Temple, he paused, looking across the Kidron Valley in the twilight to the Mount of Olives and the rolling Judean hills. " 'I lift up my eyes to the hills- where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth ..."' Hezekiah recited the psalm to himself, trying to draw strength from its promises and find peace in his heart. "'He will not let your foot slip-he who watches over you will not slumber ... the Lord is your shade at your right hand; the sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night.' " In a few minutes Shebna and his other advisors would meet with him in the council room. Hezekiah faced another long strategy meeting filled with difficult decisions; after that, another long, sleepless night as he waited for dawn.

"'The Lord will keep you from all harm-he will watch over your life; the Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.' " "Amen," Hezekiah whispered. "May it be so."

Shebna stood in his room at the palace and gazed out the window at his tomb in the valley, watching until darkness fell, wrapping the monument in a veil of shadows. Even the distinctive pyramid on top had vanished in the night. He had built it as a memorial to his achievements, but now it served as a reminder of Isaiah's prophecy, a nagging taunt that mocked him. Isaiah had been right once again: the Egyptians had failed them. How could he have known the future?

The source of Isaiah's wisdom remained a frustrating, unexplained mystery.

Shebna had been so certain that intellect and reasoning could provide all the answers. He had relied on his own judgment, staking his entire career on the anti-a.s.syrian alliance. He had counseled Hezekiah to gamble their nation's future on the promised support from Babylon, Egypt, and the other allies. But now as catastrophic reports poured in, detailing disaster after disaster at the hands of the a.s.syrians and the slaughter of Judah's allies on the battlefield, Shebna knew his wisdom had failed.

Judah-once a free, prospering nation-would suffer defeat because of his advice. Joining the alliance had drawn the a.s.syrians' attention and wrath, just as Eliakim had warned it would. Shebna had never dreamed that the a.s.syrians would advance this far, but Judah's fortified cities were toppling one after the other as the enemy moved south, trampling and burning the beautiful Judean countryside. According to the reports, the a.s.syrians were slaughtering Judah's young men-the future of their nation-while women and children who had been free and were prospering just a few months earlier trudged into captivity as slaves.

Shebna was unaccustomed to failure. He had always been in control, always victorious. Now his failure wasn't his alone-it was causing the total destruction of this nation and would mean certain death for him. King Hezekiah had trusted him, believed in him. But the king should have listened to Eliakim. Once again, one of Isaiah's predictions would come true-"you disgrace to your master's house!"

Alone in his darkened room, Shebna unfastened the royal sash that symbolized his office and slipped the golden signet ring from his finger.

Hezekiah paced restlessly in his chambers when the scribe arrived to summon him. "Your Majesty, your advisors are ready for you in the council room."

"Very well."

"But Lord Shebna has asked to speak to you alone first."

"Send him in."

As soon as Shebna walked through the door, Hezekiah noticed that he no longer wore the familiar purple sash of the palace administrator but carried it folded in his hand. He bowed low, then laid the sash in front of Hezekiah and placed his signet ring and palace keys on top.

"What are you doing, Shebna?"

"I have come to resign."

"Now? In the middle of a crisis?"

"I have no choice. My counsel has caused this terrible disaster, and I will offer you no more advice."

Hezekiah groaned and sank onto his couch. He had sustained so many blows in the past few weeks that he should have been immune to bad news by now, but Shebna's resignation stunned him.

"You picked a terrible time to desert me, Shebna. I need you."

"No. You need a palace administrator who has confidence in himself and in his decisions. I have none."

"Shebna-"

"I negotiated the treaty with Egypt. I believed Pharaoh's promise to help us. This is all my fault."

"You don't think help will arrive in time?"

Shebna shrugged. "I do not know, Your Majesty, and I am afraid to guess. The stakes are much too high."

Hezekiah groaned again and rubbed his temples. "Look, in spite of everything that's happened, I still have a great deal of confidence in you. I need your wisdom and experience to-Why are you shaking your head?"

"I never dreamed I would admit this, but I have reached the limits of my wisdom. I cannot advise you anymore."

"What?"

"It all seemed so logical on paper-the allies would help each other, we would present a united front to hold a.s.syria back-but it all fell apart, and I do not know why. I cannot go on."

"Shebna ..."

"Accept my resignation. You know that you must."

Hezekiah closed his eyes, remembering the argument between him and his grandfather over Shebna's appointment, remembering how Zechariah had quoted the psalmist: " 'Blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked.' " He knew Shebna was right, but it was still a painful decision to make.

"I'm sorry, Shebna," he said quietly.

"So am I."

They gazed silently at each other for a moment, then Shebna pointed to the sash and ring on the table between them. "Who will you give these to?"

"You know there's only one other man who is capable."

"Eliakim." The bitterness in Shebna's voice shocked Hezekiah.

"Why do you hate him so much?"

"You asked me that question a long time ago, and I did not know the answer then. But I think I am finally able to put it into words." He paused for a moment, and Hezekiah noticed how naked Shebna looked, stripped of his pride. Deep shame and humiliation clothed him instead.

"I knew from the beginning that Eliakim's intellect rivaled mine, yet he clings to a superst.i.tious belief in G.o.d, leaning on Yahweh for answers like a crippled man leans on a crutch. He believes his own wisdom has limits and that he must ask for G.o.d's wisdom when those limits are reached. But I do not believe there is a G.o.d, nor that there are any limits to what the human mind can accomplish. And so it became an unspoken contest between us-man with G.o.d versus man without him. Which one of us would prove right?" He looked away, then said in a shaking voice, "It seems I have lost the contest."

"Are you saying you finally believe in Yahweh?"

"I wish I could believe, Your Majesty. I have seen too many coincidences over the years that cannot be denied-but my doubt remains. I am afraid it is part of me."

"You've placed man on G.o.d's throne, and now you can't get him off."

"According to your Torah, viewing man as the source of wisdom is a form of idolatry."

Hezekiah hated witnessing his friend's ruin. Shebna's despair and humiliation added yet another weight to the heavy burden Hezekiah already carried.

"If Eliakim accepts the position," Hezekiah said after a moment, "I want you to replace him as secretary. I still need you on my council."

"Do you really think that is wise?"

"Under the circ.u.mstances, I think it's necessary," he said angrily. "You're still an able administrator."

"Very well. Shall I summon Eliakim for you?"

Hezekiah sighed wearily. "All right. Send him in."

After Shebna left, Hezekiah felt utterly alone. Suddenly the prophecy Isaiah had spoken on the palace steps drifted through his mind: "Till you are left like a flagstaff on a mountaintop, like a banner on a hill."

Alone. Hezekiah had lost all the people who meant the most to him: his grandfather, his wife, Isaiah, General Jonadab, and now Shebna, who had been with him from the very beginning. He thought of Yahweh's promise, "I will never leave you nor forsake you," and he knew he needed a palace administrator who would remind him that the Lord was still his strength. A few minutes later Eliakim entered. Hezekiah recognized an inner reserve of peace and humility in Eliakim's soul that Shebna, with his endless a.n.a.lyzing and rationalizing, had always lacked. The terrible desolation that had filled Hezekiah at the thought of being cut loose from Shebna after all these years began to fade, replaced by a quiet conviction that Eliakim was the man Yahweh wanted at his right hand. But considering the crisis his nation faced, he wouldn't blame Eliakim for refusing to take over the reins of a nation that galloped out of control toward disaster.

"Eliakim, I know I've asked a great deal of you over the years," he began. "Repairing the Temple, housing the refugees, digging the tunnel, building the defenses of Judah and Jerusalem. You've served me exceptionally well, and I'm very grateful."

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

"What I'm going to ask you now is probably more than I have any right to ask, especially when I consider how I've disregarded your wise counsel these past few months." He picked up Shebna's ring and toyed with it for a moment. "I've just accepted Shebna's resignation. I would like you to replace him."

"G.o.d of Abraham, you said this would happen!" Eliakim murmured. He groped for the nearest seat and dropped into it. He seemed incapable of saying more, so Hezekiah continued.

"We both know that Judah is in serious trouble. So far none of our allies has been able to withstand the a.s.syrians, and nothing I can see with my eyes tells me that we will be able to withstand them, either. It's a dangerous time to sit at my right hand, knowing what the a.s.syrians will do to us if we lose. I don't expect an answer now. You may take time to pray if-"

"No, Your Majesty, I don't need any time. I already know G.o.d's answer. I've known since I was a boy."

"How is that possible?"

"The year I became of age, Rabbi Isaiah prophesied that this would happen, that one day G.o.d would place the key to the house of David on my shoulder. So regardless of our national crisis, I can't refuse G.o.d's will."

Hezekiah stared, amazed to learn that Eliakim was indeed G.o.d's choice. For some reason he suddenly thought of the two bronze pillars that stood in Yahweh's Temple. Long ago his grandfather had taught him their names: Boaz-in Him is strength; and Jakin-Yahweh establishes. He realized that they were amazingly similar to his name-the Lord is my strength-and Eliakim's name-the Lord will establish. He smiled slightly, certain that his grandfather would also approve of Eliakim.

Hezekiah placed the sash, ring, and keys in Eliakim's lap. "Here. These are yours now." He saw Eliakim's hands tremble slightly as he pulled the secretary's ring off his finger and put on the larger palace administrator's ring in its place. Then Eliakim fumbled with the purple sash and fastened the keys. "Are you ready?" Hezekiah asked.

Eliakim drew a deep breath, then exhaled. "Yes, Your Majesty."

A hush fell over the council room as Eliakim entered and took the seat on the king's right-hand side. Hezekiah decided Shebna's absence needed no further announcement.