The Strength Of His Hand Part 28

"Your Majesty, if he could raise that much tribute so quickly, he probably has a lot more. Did he hand over the sacred articles from his temple?"

"I don't recall seeing any images, no."

"They don't believe in images, Your Majesty. But there's still Yahweh's golden ark-the one the Philistines talked about. Remember?" "Now that you mention it, I don't think they sent it. The only golden ark I saw appeared to be a Babylonian one."

"Then they must have more gold. Lots more. And they might use it to purchase weapons and mercenaries to attack us from the rear. Besides, we need to conquer all the G.o.ds, Your Majesty, including Judah's. Hezekiah must surrender both cities as well as his temple."

"I already accepted his terms of submission."

"I didn't accept them! And if you give me a chance, I can force Hezekiah to surrender!"

Sennacherib stared at him curiously for a moment, then broke into a sly smile. "I like you, Iddina. You're a clever, devious man. Very well-take as many troops as you need, and go tell King Hezekiah that I've changed my mind."

"You won't regret it, Your Majesty."

"I think you should arrive at dawn, Iddina. Scare them to death when they're still half asleep. Or better still, at dusk, when they're tired and hungry after a hard day's work."

"With all due respect, Your Majesty, the best time to stun an enemy is right after breakfast, when everyone is awake and out about his business. I want every man in Jerusalem to see our army gathered in force and to hear my demands. They'll quickly realize there's no hope, and they'll turn against King Hezekiah and surrender Jerusalem to me in record time."

"Then do it."

"What about Lachish, Your Majesty?"

"Yes, you're quite right. I suppose we should finish what we've started here, too."

"After all," Iddina said, grinning, "you wouldn't want those murals on your palace walls to tell a lie, now, would you?"

24.

THE INSTANT JERUSHA HEARD the ominous rumbling, she recognized the sound. She had heard it on the morning of her cousin's wedding in Dabbasheth when her world had come to an end, and she had felt it in the cistern beneath her father's house as she had huddled beside her sister. She would never forget that sound as long as she lived.

"Eliakim-they're here!"

"What?"

"The a.s.syrians! I hear them!"

"That's impossible." Eliakim struggled to his feet, rocking the breakfast table. He listened to the horrible rumbling, and for a moment Jerusha glimpsed his fear. Then a change came over him, and his face hardened with determination. She saw his strength and his faith, and she wanted to cling to him as if to a rock in a flood, drawing strength from him. The rumbling grew louder.

"I have to go to the palace," he said. "Don't wait up for me. I'll probably be late." He bent to kiss Jerusha, just as he kissed her every morning-then he looked into her eyes for a long moment.

"Stay inside, Jerusha. Don't go to the wall. Don't look at them." "I'm so scared!"

"I know. But everything will be all right." He squeezed her shoulder, then he left.

Jerusha s.h.i.+vered as the rumbling grew louder, and she felt the baby tossing in her womb. Hilkiah wrapped a shawl around her, holding her tightly.

"Trust G.o.d, my child. Trust G.o.d," he said.

Jerusha tried to calm herself, knowing her fear was upsetting the baby. She began stacking the breakfast dishes, hoping to find consolation in the familiar task, then she noticed little Jerimoth and Tirza poking at their untouched food.

"All done, Mama," Jerimoth said.

"No, you're not-you haven't even started. Come on, now." But when she picked up a spoon to feed Tirza, her hand shook so badly she was unable to do it. The terrible rumbling continued, growing louder in the background.

"Mama, is that thunder?" Jerimoth asked.

"No, honey, it's people marching. And horses."

"How can horses make a sound like thunder?"

"It's their hooves. There are lots and lots of them."

"Are you cold, Mama?"

She couldn't stop s.h.i.+vering. "Yes. Just a bit. Let's sit outside in the garden where the sun is warm, shall we?"

"I want to see the horses."

"No, honey. Abba wants us to stay home."

"Can't we go see them for a minute, then come back home?"

Jerusha knew what the a.s.syrians would do in full view of the people on the wall. She shook her head. "No, love. We can't. Abba will take you to see the horses at the palace stables sometime. I promise." Jerusha sat in the courtyard, watching her children play, but even the warmth of a thousand suns wouldn't have been able to make her stop s.h.i.+vering.

"What's that sound?" Hezekiah asked his valet.

"I don't hear-"

"Shh ... listen ..."

A rumbling like summer thunder rolled in the distance in a long, ominous peal, yet the morning sun streamed through the palace window. The unending noise rumbled on, growing louder.

"It can't be thunder ..." Then suddenly Hezekiah realized what it was, and he bolted to his feet. "No! I paid their ransom!" The small table with his breakfast tray toppled over as he pushed it aside and hurried out the door. He met Shebna in the courtyard outside.

"Is it the a.s.syrians, Your Majesty?"

"It must be."

"What more do they want from us? We submitted to them. We paid the tribute."

"There's only one thing left. They must want me to surrender the city."

"Will you?"

"Never."

They climbed the steep stairs to the wall overlooking the Kidron Valley and arrived out of breath at the top. General Benjamin, who had taken over the defense of Jerusalem for Jonadab, soon joined them. Hundreds of soldiers swarmed to the wall to take up their positions, and Hezekiah saw Eliakim racing up behind them, taking the steps two at a time.

"Those filthy liars!" he breathed. "We negotiated in good faith!

We gave them a ton of gold! What are they doing here?"

Hezekiah peered over the wall. "Dear G.o.d in heaven!" he breathed. Below him, thousands of a.s.syrians crawled across the valley like flies on dead meat. Sunlight glinted off hundreds of thousands of weapons: swords, arrows, s.h.i.+elds, and spears. Horses, too numerous to count, churned up the new spring gra.s.s and pounded it into mud beneath their hooves. Scores of chariots rolled up the road, their painted spokes spinning and creaking, their banners flapping in the breeze, snapping like whips. It looked as if a dam had burst, flooding the valley with a deluge of enemy soldiers, transforming the green countryside to a sea of black. The sight stunned Hezekiah like a blow to the head, and he staggered against the wall as his knees went weak beneath him.

a.s.syrians filled the Kidron Valley, then surged up the slopes of the Mount of Olives in an endless wave. On and on they came, more and more and more of them. The sight paralyzed him. The little breakfast he had eaten rolled in his stomach until he felt sick at the unbelievable sight.

"Dear G.o.d, this can't be happening!"

There were more a.s.syrians outside the walls than there were people inside them, even with all the refugees from the surrounding villages. Yet there was an order and a pattern to the a.s.syrians' practiced movements, as if they had ch.o.r.eographed this invasion like a ritual dance. Some of the foot soldiers formed into ranks of archers and slingers, aiming their sights at the city walls. Others began pitching tents and corralling horses as if preparing for a lengthy siege. Each of the thousands of men knew his role and took his a.s.signed post with alarming swiftness.

As they worked, they left a narrow strip of green gra.s.s between their camp and the city walls, and at first Hezekiah wondered why. Then, as they began carrying tall, sharpened stakes into the clearing, he moaned.

"O G.o.d, no!" He gripped the wall to steady himself as they dragged a pitiful band of naked Judean prisoners into the clearing beside the stakes. He recognized all these men; they were his army commanders and the city officials from the fortified cities already conquered by the a.s.syrians. The prisoners had been brutally tortured, some of them blinded.

"They have General Jonadab!" Eliakim cried.

Hezekiah groaned in helpless anguish as the a.s.syrians impaled Jonadab along with the others and left him dangling beneath the broiling sun to slowly die. At the sound of Jonadab's terrible screams, Eliakim put his face in his hands and wept.

As the cries of the tortured men crescendoed, Hezekiah turned away and saw the devastating effect the grisly scene had on the soldiers watching beside him. They gazed down at their general in stunned shock, many of them weeping openly like Eliakim. When Hezekiah looked down at Jonadab again, his heart twisted inside him. He fought back his own tears as he watched the tortured general writhe in agony.

"We have to do something to help him," he said.

Eliakim wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "There's nothing we can do. He's dying."

"No, they won't let him die-not yet. They're deliberately prolonging his execution."

"That is the a.s.syrian way," Shebna said bitterly. "They delight in this warfare of the mind."

"Well, I have to stop to it," Hezekiah said. "General Benjamin, bring me your best marksman. The least we can do is end Jonadab's suffering and deprive the a.s.syrians of one of their victims."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

As Hezekiah waited, the agonized screams of the tortured, dying men seemed to fill the valley. That's when he realized how silent the a.s.syrian troops were. It was almost as if the sound of death was music to their ears, and they stood in hushed reverence, like an audience before skilled musicians. Why else would one hundred thousand men be able to set up their siege in such disciplined silence? It was part of the terror they sought to instill. And judging by the faces of the men on the wall around him, Hezekiah knew that they were fulfilling their goal.

"Your Majesty, this is Helez, son of Abiel from Bethlehem," General Benjamin said when he returned. "He is our finest sharpshooter." Helez bowed to the king, then pulled a bow from the quiver on his back and bent to string it. Hezekiah recognized the skill in his smooth movements, but he seemed little more than a boy-a farmer perhaps or a shepherd-hardly a match for the a.s.syrians' trained professionals. Hezekiah thought of David before Goliath.

"Listen, Helez," he said. "I need you to put an end to this torture.

Those men down there don't deserve to die like this. Can you do it?"

Helez peered over the wall at the carnage. "That's the general!" he cried.

"Yes. And they'll prolong his agony for days."

Helez took a moment to recover. "Your Majesty, he is at the very farthest limit of my range."

"Will you try anyway, son?"

"Yes, my lord."

Hezekiah watched him adjust the tension of his bow, then weigh his arrows carefully. Sweat formed on the boy's brow.

"Take your time, Helez," he said, but as Jonadab's moans echoed off the city walls Hezekiah wanted to cry out, Hurry! G.o.d in heaven, hurry!

The muscles on Helez's arm tensed as he drew back the bowstring and took aim. Then with a whoosh the arrow sped toward its mark. It flew over Jonadab's head and sank into the earth beyond him.

Helez stared at his feet and shook his head. "I'm sorry-"

"It's all right-try again." Please, G.o.d, get it over with. Jonadab hadn't been blinded, and he might be aware enough to realize what Hezekiah was trying to do. If so, they were adding to his torture by prolonging it.

Helez wiped the sweat from his eyes and took aim a second time.

Hezekiah felt the tension of the men on the wall around him and held his breath. The second arrow fell short of its mark, but this time Helez didn't waste time apologizing. He pulled a third arrow from his quiver, took aim, and fired. A moment later, Jonadab's tortured body hung limply on the stake, an arrow piercing his heart.

"Thank G.o.d," Hezekiah breathed. "I'm very grateful to you, Helez. You'll be rewarded."

"What about the others?" General Benjamin asked.

"Yes, for mercy's sake, end their suffering, too, if you can."

Helez walked to the narrow embrasure once more to take sight of his next target. But before he could reach into his quiver for another arrow, Hezekiah heard him cry out. A look of dazed surprise filled the young man's eyes, and his mouth opened round; then he crumpled to the ground. Three a.s.syrian arrows, not even a finger's width apart from each other, had pierced Helez's heart. Hezekiah's best marksman fell dead, slain in a terrifying display of a.s.syrian firepower. Once again Hezekiah's knees went weak.

"G.o.d of Abraham, help us," Eliakim whispered.

In the valley below, the a.s.syrians quickly impaled another victim to take Jonadab's place while Hezekiah stared at the dead boy in astonishment. "Your Majesty, you must get down off this wall! Now!" General Benjamin said. He grabbed Hezekiah's arm and pulled him toward the stairs. But suddenly a shout rang out from the valley below.

"King Hezekiah!"

He shook free from the general's grip and turned back to the wall. A lone a.s.syrian warrior dressed in full battle array stood in the clearing before the Water Gate.

"King Hezekiah! I am Iddina, Rabshekah to Emperor Sennacherib of a.s.syria. Come forward and surrender your city!"

Anger rose up in Hezekiah with frightening strength. He stared down at his enemy as if peering through a tunnel, the borders of his vision erased by his rage. "Come with me, Eliakim, while I tell this pagan that I have no intention of surrendering."

Eliakim grabbed his arm to stop him. "Wait, Your Majesty! That's not the a.s.syrian king. That's only his second-in-command."

"I know. Let go of me."

"There's no reason why you should go out to him."