Song of Redemption (35 page)

“That’s a possibility,” Hezekiah said, “but a temporary water source such as a cistern causes problems with morale. People know that sooner or later it’ll run dry, and they start hoarding water or trampling each other to get at it.”

“I’ve considered constructing walls around the spring,” Eliakim said, “but it would be impossible to connect them to the city walls. The slopes are too steep.”

Hezekiah shaded his eyes and stared up at the city again, trying to see it from the enemy’s viewpoint. “I came here with my grandfather when I was a child, and he told me the story of how King David’s armies conquered Jerusalem.”

“I learned that story, too,” Eliakim said. “David’s men found a secret passageway, didn’t they? And it led them up into the city?”

“I do not think we can put much faith in those stories,” Shebna said. “King David’s exploits were greatly exaggerated after his death until they reached mythical proportions.”

“Then how did they get inside the walls?” Eliakim asked.

“That’s a fair question,” Jonadab said. “Jerusalem would have been hard to conquer by conventional methods of war, especially in King David’s time.”

Hezekiah scooped up a stone and tossed it from one hand to the other as he spoke. “My grandfather said that the Jebusites dug a shaft so they could draw water during a siege. David’s men found the entrance here at the spring and crawled up the shaft into the city.”

Shebna frowned skeptically. “That mountain is made of solid rock. How could they dig a tunnel through it?”

Hezekiah didn’t answer. He had suddenly noticed a slight depression where the spring bordered the slope of the hill. He tossed the stone down and leaped to his feet.

“Do you suppose the tunnel is still here?” Eliakim asked, following Hezekiah as he skirted the water’s edge.

“I don’t know. But my grandfather trusted the chronicles of David to be accurate.”

When Hezekiah got as close as he could along the bank, he shed his sandals and outer robe, tucked the hem of his tunic into his belt, then waded into the icy waters of the spring. By the time he reached the curious depression on the side of the hill, he was soaked to his thighs.

For several minutes he and Eliakim worked to pull out the overhanging weeds and stones until they saw a small, cavelike entrance leading into the side of the cliff.

“Get a torch!” Hezekiah shouted.

Jonadab hurried up the ramp to the guard tower by the Water Gate. While they waited, Eliakim and Shebna helped Hezekiah remove more rocks and rubble that had accumulated in front of the entrance to the cave. By the time they had cleared an opening large enough to squeeze through, Jonadab had returned. He handed the torch to Eliakim, who ducked through the hole and disappeared into the side of the hill.

“Your Majesty!” he shouted. “You’ve got to see this!”

Hezekiah squeezed through behind Eliakim and found himself in a narrow slit between two high rock walls. Eliakim stood several feet in front of him, holding the torch, but beyond him the walls disappeared into inky darkness. The floor beneath Hezekiah’s bare feet felt very rough. The walls, which were only a foot apart at the bottom, gradually grew wider apart until they reached the ceiling, just inches above his head.

“Shebna, come see this,” Hezekiah called. He waded into the tunnel to make room for him. In the murky light he saw his friend gaze around, stunned.

Shebna leaned against a wall, mumbling, “I cannot believe it!”

“How far back does it go, Eliakim?”

“I don’t know, Your Majesty. Let’s find out.”

Eliakim sloshed forward into the darkness, and Hezekiah waded behind him, barely able to see, feeling his way along the walls. The rock seemed to absorb what little light they had, and Shebna, who was in almost total darkness, had to hold on to Hezekiah’s belt as they groped through the icy, knee-deep water. The crudely cut slit meandered as it wound for several yards into the mountain; then the ceiling gradually lowered until the tunnel ended in another arch-like entrance close to the water’s surface. Eliakim ducked through first, momentarily plunging Hezekiah and Shebna into total darkness.

“I don’t believe it!” Eliakim cried. “Come look at this!” Hezekiah entered a large, cavernous room, nearly round, with walls much smoother than the tunnel’s walls. “It’s a holding tank!” Eliakim exclaimed. “For the water!” He raised the torch as high as he could and shone it all around. “Look! There it is! That’s where the shaft was!”

Hezekiah spotted a depression in the middle of the smooth ceiling, no wider than a small man’s shoulders. Someone had packed it tightly with rocks and rubble. “King David probably didn’t want his enemies to find it,” Hezekiah said.

Eliakim’s eyes were wide. “And I thought it was just a bedtime story! Who would have ever believed it?”

“It certainly looks man-made,” Shebna said as he ran his hand across the walls.

“It probably was a cave originally,” Eliakim said, “and the Jebusites enlarged it. The limestone in this area has a lot of natural caves and fissures. The spring itself comes from underground somewhere.”

Hezekiah gazed around in amazement, not sure which astounded him more—discovering a possible way to secure their water supply or learning that the ancient story was true. This narrow, black tunnel carved in the mountain encouraged him, inspired him, and renewed his faith.

“Let’s go,” he said. His legs had begun to ache from the numbing water. He followed Eliakim out, then sat in the sun to warm himself.

Shebna bristled with excitement. “If that truly is a shaft that leads up to the city, then this could be our answer. We could reopen it, and—”

“I don’t know,” Jonadab said, frowning. “We’d have to get rid of the aqueduct and hide the spring, or the enemy could find the tunnel as easily as we did. I’d hate to risk it.”

“Besides, our population is ten times the size of Jebusite Jerusalem,” Eliakim said. “Without the spring or the lower pool, we’d never be able to draw enough water for the entire city from one narrow shaft.”

“Maybe we could widen the shaft,” Shebna said.

Eliakim thought a moment. “I suppose that’s possible, but I’d estimate that the city is more than a hundred cubits above the spring. That’s a long way to haul water every day.”

“We would only need to use it in times of siege,” Shebna argued.

Jonadab shook his head. “No, I don’t like it. As long as the spring and the lower pool remain exposed, the enemy could find the shaft. And if we made it wider, we’d make it easier to crawl through, too.”

“Let’s consider this,” Hezekiah said. “If the Jebusites could tunnel through solid rock, why couldn’t we? We certainly have better tools than they did three or four hundred years ago. Let’s forget the shaft and lengthen the existing tunnel. We could channel the water underground to a new pool inside the walls.”

Eliakim grinned. “Then we could get rid of the aqueduct and hide the spring underground! They’d never know it was here!”

Jonadab mopped his forehead with his sleeve. “I’d like to see how long the Assyrians could last out here if
they
were the ones without water.”

Hezekiah turned to Eliakim. “Do you think we could do it?”

“I can think of a few problems,” Eliakim answered. His high forehead furrowed in thought. “But I won’t say it’s impossible. I’d like to come back with more torches and look it over carefully. Then I can give you a better answer.”

“If it
is
possible,” Jonadab said, “then I’d say the king’s idea of an underground watercourse is brilliant!”

As they walked up the hill, Hezekiah felt more encouraged than he had in months, and he was eager to begin work immediately. The men gathered in the council chamber with Eliakim’s blueprint of the city spread in front of them.

“I’m impressed by the Jebusites’ tenacity,” Eliakim said. “It must have been difficult to carve through solid rock with primitive tools.”

Hezekiah agreed. “I understand that the Phoenicians are experienced in mining operations like this. I’ll send our trade minister to Tyre to negotiate for the tools we’ll need.”

Shebna seemed unusually quiet and moody.

“What are you thinking?” Hezekiah asked him.

“I think your tunnel is an excellent idea, Your Majesty, but I do not believe we will have enough time to dig it. We should concentrate our efforts on reopening the shaft first. That would provide a backup system.”

“But why waste time on a temporary solution?” Eliakim said. “It would take a major operation to unblock the vertical shaft, because there’s no trace of the other end up here in the city. And if we dig from the bottom up, all that rubble is going to come down onto our heads.”

“Eliakim’s right,” Hezekiah said. “If we’re going to spend time and money digging, then I’d like to dig a new tunnel that would channel the water over here.” He pointed on the map to a place inside the southern wall of the city. “Could it be done?”

Eliakim studied the drawing. “Well, I see at least three obstacles, Your Majesty. First, it’s a long way to dig—I’d say almost a third of a mile, maybe longer. Tunneling would be slow, and we’d have to transport the rubble a long way to the surface.”

“What would we do with all the rubble?” Shebna asked. “If it is a secret project, piles of rock in the valley would certainly give it away.”

“Second, it would be difficult to get fresh air into such a long tunnel,” Eliakim continued. “And our torches would eat up more air. If we bored air shafts from the surface, it would add years to the project.”

Hezekiah frowned. “We can’t afford that kind of time.”

“The Jebusite shaft has already been dug,” Shebna insisted. “We should dig more cisterns and use the shaft when the cisterns run dry.”

“And what if the enemy finds it?” Jonadab asked.

Shebna gave him a scathing look. “Only one soldier could climb up at a time, General. Surely your men could fend them off! Besides, they could find a tunnel just as easily.”

“No, if we had a tunnel,” Eliakim said, “we would bury the spring beneath the surface of the ground.”

Shebna’s voice slowly rose in volume. “So then why not bury the spring and use the shaft? It is already dug for you.”

Eliakim’s voice rose to match his. “Because the spring is a natural fountain. It surges intermittently, and the runoff has to be channeled somewhere. That’s what the aqueduct and lower pool are for. If we dug a tunnel, we would make a pool inside the walls to hold the runoff.”

Hezekiah grew impatient. “We could probably find a solution if you two would quit bickering. You said there were three obstacles, Eliakim. What’s the third?”

“If you look at the underground route, the shortest, most direct path would take us right through here—”

“I see,” Hezekiah sighed. “The tombs of King David and Solomon are in the way.”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Even so, I refuse to give up the idea,” Hezekiah insisted. “A water supply is crucial in siege warfare, and I know we have the skills to do the physical labor and planning. After all, the Jebusites did it. Keep working on it, Eliakim. Hire any extra help you need. But whatever we decide, let’s keep one thing in mind: the Assyrians are camped less than fifty miles away. We may not have much time to find a solution.”

29

E
LIAKIM HATED FOR THE EVENING MEAL
to end. Jerusha and Maacah added so much to the domestic life he’d long shared with his father that it seemed as though they had always been part of his family. But when the girls rose to help the servants clear the table and oversee the work in the kitchen, Eliakim reluctantly started to his feet to return to his workroom.

“Oh no, you don’t,” his father said, pulling him back. “You’re not leaving this table until you give me your answer.”

“What was the question?”

“Eliakim, do you listen to anything I say, or do my words simply bounce off your ears?”

“I’m sorry, Abba. I have a lot on my mind. Ask me again.”

“All right,” he said with exaggerated patience. “As I told you at breakfast, I have two eager fathers who are waiting for your answer. Are you going to marry their daughters or not?”

“Both of them? I have to marry
two
wives now?” Eliakim asked with a grin.

Hilkiah did not look amused. “Eliakim, they are from good families. Doesn’t either of them appeal to you?”

“What’s the big hurry? Why the rush to marry me off?” As usual, the subject irritated him.

“So you don’t want to get married at all?”

“I didn’t say that. I just wondered what the big hurry was. Am I the last eligible bachelor in Jerusalem?”

“You want me to turn them both down?”

“Would you? And no more proposals for a while, Abba. I need a break from all this nonsense.”

“If that’s what you want… .” Hilkiah sighed and leaned back against the cushions. Eliakim glanced at his father to see if he was angry, but to his surprise Hilkiah was grinning.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing! This matchmaking is serious business!” But Hilkiah’s eyes twinkled merrily as he began a long, rambling speech about the intricacies of the process and all the hardships Eliakim was putting him through.

Eliakim stopped listening, thinking instead about King Hezekiah’s water system. He was anxious to go back to his room and work on it, aware that he had to come up with a proposal soon or the king would choose Shebna’s plan to reopen the Jebusite shaft. Eliakim couldn’t allow that to happen. He had promised Jerusha that the Assyrians would never get into the city, and Shebna’s plan was too risky. Gradually Eliakim became aware that his father was still talking to him.

“ … and it seems like they’ve always been part of our household, doesn’t it?”

“Huh? What did you say, Abba?”

“The girls, Jerusha and Maacah.” Hilkiah nodded toward the kitchen. Eliakim could hear their voices and laughter as they supervised the servants.

“Uh, yes, Abba—I can’t remember what it was like without them.”

“Yes, and it’ll certainly be quiet again after they’re gone.” Hilkiah sighed and sadly shook his head.

Eliakim suddenly woke up. “Gone? Where are they going? Not back to Israel?”

“Don’t be absurd. I mean when they get married and move into homes of their own.”