Gods And Kings (5 page)

Hezekiah stood by his door for a very long time, listening to every sound: a cricket chirping in the courtyard below his window; an owl hooting softly in the valley near the spring; a shutter creaking as the wind blew past his window. Before long, the night sounds merged into a comforting rhythm and his legs grew weary, his eyes heavy with sleep. He was about to climb back into bed when he saw torchlight dancing through the crack under his door. Someone hurried down the hallway toward his room, then past it. Hezekiah opened the door a crack and peered out. He heard insistent pounding and urgent voices around the corner by his mother’s room. He listened, ready to run, his heart thumping in his chest.

A moment later the light grew brighter as the man with the torch moved down the hall toward him again. He saw his father rounding the corner with a palace chamberlain. “I’ve summoned your advisors to the council chamber,” the servant was saying. “You’ll have a few minutes to read the reports for yourself before the counselors arrive.”

Hezekiah stared through the narrow crack as his father hurried past. “What about my brother?” Ahaz asked. “Did the messenger say where Maaseiah is?”

Hezekiah didn’t hear the reply. The voices grew faint as the men disappeared down the stairs. He stood shivering in the darkness, the floor cold beneath his bare feet. Why was his father asking about Uncle Maaseiah? Hezekiah stepped out into the hallway. For a moment he considered running back to the safety of his mother’s room. But then a greater need, the need to understand why his father had sacrificed Eliab to Molech, overshadowed his wish for comfort. He crept down the stairs, following Ahaz to the council chamber.

A heavy curtain guarded the service entrance to the chamber, and Hezekiah slid past it, hiding in the anteroom where the servants usually waited to be summoned. The tiny room was empty, so he crouched behind a pillar and peered into the council room. His father’s throne stood on a raised dais at one end of the room, with Uncle Maaseiah’s empty seat beside it. Thick wool carpets and cush-ions were arranged in front of the dais for the king’s advisors, and a servant scurried between them, lighting lamps and charcoal braziers.The room seemed gloomy, even with all of the lamps lit. When the servant finished, he left the council chamber, hurrying past Hezekiah without seeing him.

King Ahaz stood beneath a lampstand, reading from a scroll, his lips drawn into a thin line. Hezekiah heard him moan, and the parchment dropped to the floor as Ahaz tore the front of his robes. “I never should have let him go into battle,” he cried out. “How can I run this nation without Maaseiah?” He gazed up at the thick cedar beams as if the answer to his question was written up there.

“Why don’t you sit down, Your Majesty? You’re upset.” The chamberlain took Ahaz’s arm and led him to his throne. “You’ve suffered a great shock. But your counselors are coming now. They’ll know what to do.”

Ahaz dropped into his chair as his advisors began hurrying into the room. They appeared groggy and confused, rubbing the sleep from their eyes. “Is it news of your army, Your Majesty?” someone asked.

Hezekiah stiffened, suddenly alert. He remembered the endless rows of soldiers that had lined up in the palace courtyard and forced him to walk down the hill to the Hinnom Valley. They had carried him up the steps to the monster’s platform, then surrounded it so that he and Eliab couldn’t escape. His father’s army.

King Ahaz lifted a wine goblet from the ivory table beside his throne and took two quick gulps, then wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “Yes, disastrous news,” he replied. “The army that I sent north to stop the invasion has been defeated. A hundred and twenty thousand soldiers have been slaughtered. My three commanders, Azrikam, Elkanah, my brother Maaseiah …”

He gestured to the empty seat beside his as his voice choked. The room grew so still that Hezekiah could hear the oil lamps hissing faintly as they burned, casting wavering shadows on the walls.

“All three men are dead,” Ahaz said at last. He reached for the wineglass again and gulped two more mouthfuls. “The enemy alliance proved stronger than we thought. I’ve lost most of my army, and the invaders are still marching south, overrunning every village and town in their path. They’ve taken more than two hundred thousand people captive.”

Hezekiah heard several of the advisors moan. Ahaz gulped another drink, then gripped the arms of his throne as if to steady himself. “The enemy is heading here. They’re going to attack Jerusalem and try to overthrow my government.”

Everyone started talking at once as a ripple of fear coursed through the room. When the shock wave reached Hezekiah, he began to shiver. He crouched lower in the shadows.

Ahaz drained his glass, then shouted, “Shut up and listen to me! There’s more.” Instantly the room fell silent. “I’ve had news from the south, as well. The King of Edom has taken advantage of this crisis to invade our only seaport. Elath is lost.” Once again the meeting dissolved into chaos, and once again Ahaz shouted the men into silence. “There’s still more! Our old enemies, the Philistines, have come against us, too. They’ve raided towns in the foothills and the Negev and have already captured Beth Shemesh, Aijalon, Timnah … three or four others I can’t remember.”

The men stared at Ahaz as if unable to believe what he was telling them. “We’re being attacked on three sides?” someone asked.

“Yes.”

Hezekiah didn’t understand what was going on, but he could tell by the tense murmuring that these men were afraid. He listened breathlessly.

“What are we going to do?” another man asked.

“For the time being, we’ll have to forget about the Edomites and the Philistines,” Ahaz said. “Our most serious threat is from the northern alliance. The Aramean army will reach Jerusalem within a few days. They’re organized and powerful, and we have very few soldiers left. So, you tell me—what are we going to do?” He gazed at his advisors for several long moments, but none of them replied.Ahaz’s voice rose to a shout. “Doesn’t anyone have a word of advice?”

A nobleman seated near the front finally stood. “Your Majesty, if Jerusalem is facing a lengthy siege, we must consider our water resources.” The man wore several gold rings on his fingers, and whenever he gestured Hezekiah saw a pattern like fireflies on the ceiling above his head. “The rainy season is still months away,” the man continued, “and the city’s cisterns are getting low. Is there any way we can defend the Gihon Spring? Otherwise, once we seal the city gates we’ll be cut off from our water supply.”

“I know perfectly well where the spring is!” Ahaz shouted.“Everyone in Jerusalem knows that we don’t have any fresh water inside our walls. But what can we possibly do about it now? The enemy will be here in a matter of days!” He glared at the man as if challenging him to answer. He shrugged and sat down.

“So. He has no advice for me,” Ahaz said. “Do any of the rest of you?”

From the back of the room, almost against the rear wall, a lone figure rose to his feet. “I do, Your Majesty.”

“Who are you? Come forward where I can see you.”

“I’m Uriah, high priest of the Temple of Yahweh.” He spoke in a deep, clear voice and, unlike Ahaz’s other advisors, he appeared calm.He was tall and powerfully built, and he strode forward with such a commanding presence that Hezekiah curled up in the shadows where he was crouching, suddenly afraid.

He couldn’t help comparing the high priest to Ahaz, and the king came up short on every point. Uriah had muscular shoulders and a broad chest, but Ahaz was flabby and round-shouldered, with no muscles beneath the fat. Uriah’s black hair and beard looked full and thick, while the soft, reddish hair on Ahaz’s face formed only a scraggly beard. The priest seemed to have no wasted motion, his every gesture sure and powerful, while Ahaz’s hands fluttered and fidgeted nervously. Hezekiah was surprised to see his father lean forward in his seat as if in awe of the tall priest.

“You have permission to speak, Uriah.”

“Your Majesty, our nation needs a strong ally to come to our defense in this crisis. I suggest that we quickly approach one of our neighboring nations for help.”

“An excellent suggestion,” Ahaz said, settling back on his throne again. “Now the question is, which nation would be most likely to help us?”

“I’ve given it a great deal of thought—” Uriah began, but Ahaz cut him off.

“Which nation does our enemy fear the most? I want to choose an ally that will fill the Arameans’ hearts with dread.”

“Your Majesty, it might be better if we—” “I want an ally that will make them retreat out of Judah as soon as they hear the news of our alliance. Which nation would do that?”

The man with the many rings rose to his feet again. “Your Majesty, the Assyrians are the Arameans’ greatest threat. The Assyrian empire is already vast and far-reaching, and I’m sure the King of Aram fears becoming the next target of their aggression.”

“Perfect!” Ahaz shouted. “Would the Assyrians be willing to ally themselves with us?” he asked Uriah.

“An alliance with us would certainly give them a foothold in this region, which is what they’re looking for,” Uriah replied. “But I think we should consider a less dangerous ally first. The Assyrians are a vicious, violent, bloodthirsty nation, and I think it would be a mistake to ask them to—” ‘

‘Good! The more bloodthirsty the better,” Ahaz said. “I want the men who killed my brother to suffer!”

His words jolted Hezekiah. He wanted to punish the man who killed his brother, too—but how? The man responsible was his father, the king.

“Uriah’s right,” Ahaz continued. “We must convince another nation to come to our defense. We’re in no position to defend ourselves without an army. The stronger that ally is, the better.” He drew a deep breath. “We’ll send a gift of tribute to Assyria and propose an alliance. This gift must be very lavish in order to convince them that we are a worthy ally. We’ll need to send gold, silver, precious stones … and we’ll need to act quickly, before the enemy lays siege to Jerusalem.”

“But, Your Majesty,” someone protested, “where will this gift come from? There’s no time to levy taxes, and we’ve already emptied the royal treasuries to equip Maaseiah’s army.”

King Ahaz glanced all around the room, as if hoping that bars of gold would magically appear. Then his eyes fell on the high priest, still standing in front of him. “Uriah, you will remove the gold and other valuables from the Temple of Solomon.”

Uriah looked distressed by Ahaz’s plan. “But, Your Majesty, the Temple storehouses are nearly empty. The only valuables remaining are the sacred vessels that are used for worship. It’s true that the Holy of Holies contains a wealth of gold, but it is part of the structure.There’s no way to remove it without permanently damaging Yahweh’s dwelling place.”

King Ahaz didn’t appear to be listening. “A wealth of gold …”he repeated. “I’m favorably impressed with your wisdom and counsel, Uriah. I’m putting you in charge of the gift to Assyria. If you do well, you will be the new palace administrator in my brother’s place.” He gestured to the empty seat at his right-hand side. “Tear the Temple down, if necessary, but this gift must be acceptable to the Assyrians.”

Uriah nodded slightly, his expression unreadable. “Yes, Your Majesty.” ‘

‘When everything is ready I will send a delegation to the Assyrian monarch, along with my personal appeal for a covenant with his nation.” Ahaz looked confident for the first time that night. He rose from his chair and began issuing orders, gesturing to his advisors.“We’ll need to raise another army for the defense of Jerusalem. You three are in charge of that. As for the rest of you, begin spreading word of the coming siege as soon as you’re dismissed. Make sure the city and surrounding areas are prepared as quickly as possible. It may take some time for our new Assyrian allies to rally to our defense.”

The task of making so many decisions seemed to exhaust Ahaz. He sank onto his throne again when he was finished. “That’s all we can do for now. You’re dismissed. Where’s my servant?”

Hezekiah didn’t move aside in time, and Ahaz’s servant nearly tripped over him as he rushed into the anteroom to attend to the king. “What are you doing in here?” the man asked. He grabbed Hezekiah by the shoulders. “You don’t belong in here.”

“Let me go!” Hezekiah said as he struggled to break free. He needed to run upstairs and hide before his father saw him. But Ahaz had already heard the commotion.

“What’s going on over there?” he asked. “Where’s my servant?”

“I’m here, Your Majesty. I’m coming. Forgive me.” He carried Hezekiah, still struggling, into the council room.

“I found this boy in the antechamber. I don’t know how—” “You again! What are you doing down here?” Ahaz demanded.

Hezekiah couldn’t speak. He wanted to rush forward and strike his father for killing Eliab, but he couldn’t seem to move. As he gazed up at Ahaz, a terrible darkness began building deep inside Hezekiah, growing moment by moment like a powerful storm. He was terrified of his father—that was certainly part of it. But this new feeling was much bigger, much more overwhelming than fear. It was hatred.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Ahaz asked. “Get him out of here!”

The servant picked Hezekiah up and hustled him from the room.

During the brief disturbance with the king’s son, Uriah had time to refocus his thoughts. He had been too astounded by his sudden promotion to palace administrator to think clearly a moment ago. Now that the boy was gone, he strode to the front again. “One moment please, Your Majesty. I’d like to make one further suggestion.” “What is it?”

“I’d like to advise you to include a public sacrifice to Yahweh in your plans, my lord. We will need divine help in this crisis.”

Ahaz sat up straight. “Another excellent suggestion, Uriah. I’m impressed with your wisdom. However …” Ahaz gathered the sparse whiskers of his beard together, looking thoughtful. Uriah heard the hesitation in the king’s voice as he paused.

“However, I don’t think it would be appropriate to sacrifice to Yahweh after emptying His Temple’s storehouses,” he finally said.“I’m uneasy about that. Surely you understand. No, we have already sought the help of Molech, the most powerful of all the gods. He won’t desert us now, especially after I’ve personally sacrificed so much.So before the siege begins, we will hold another sacrifice to Molech.”