The Strength of His Hand (37 page)

Hezekiah stood, pulling her to her feet with him, and clasped her to himself.

God had joined them together. She was part of him. And as he took her face in his hands and kissed her, he felt whole again for the first time in nearly a year.
Man and woman—then God will dwell in their
midst
.

“Let’s go home,” he whispered.

He snuffed out the lamp and closed the door behind them. Leaning close together, clinging to one another, they walked up the deserted streets to the palace.

27

W
HEN
H
EZEKIAH
R
EACHED
the palace, he was surprised to see torches and lamps burning in the council room and throne room. “You’d better wait for me in my chambers,” he told Hephzibah; then he hurried down the hall to find out what was wrong.

“Your Majesty!” Shebna said breathlessly. “We have been searching all over for you. I have already summoned Eliakim and your other advisors. A message has arrived from the Egyptian camp. All is lost.”

“What?” Hezekiah couldn’t comprehend this news.

“Pharaoh’s forces met the Assyrians in battle at Eltekeh. The Egyptians were slaughtered, Your Majesty.”

“O God! No!” Hezekiah felt as if someone had squeezed all the blood from his body.

“The Assyrians mowed them down like summer hay.”

The words of Isaiah’s warning not to rely on Egypt’s help sprang unbidden to Hezekiah’s mind:
“This sin will become for you like a high
wall, cracked and bulging, that collapses suddenly, in an instant.”

“We have no allies,” he murmured. “We’re the only nation left.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Shebna’s face looked like a corpse’s. “I am sorry. I never should have convinced you to join the alliance. I never should have promised you Egypt’s help. Now you will surely be forced to surrender Jerusalem.”

__________

Close to midnight Eliakim returned home from the palace, exhausted. He found his father waiting up for him.

“What happened, son?”

“The Assyrians crushed Pharaoh’s army at Eltekeh.”

“No!”

“It’s over, Abba. All our allies have been defeated.”

The spirit seemed to go out of Hilkiah, and he dropped to the bench near the door. “What’s going to happen now? Will the Assyrians come back here?”

Jerusha had asked Eliakim the same question. “I don’t know, Abba. No one does.” He saw his father studying him.

“But you think they will.”

“Yes,” Eliakim sighed. “I do.”

“God of Abraham, help us!”

“We discussed it all night, Abba. When Sennacherib demanded our surrender the last time, King Hezekiah decided to hold out, hoping the Egyptians would come to our rescue. Now that Egypt is defeated, the Assyrians are sure to come back and demand our surrender again.”

“And will the king surrender?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “King Hezekiah listened to what everyone had to say, but he didn’t tell us what he would do.”

“What did you advise him to do?”

“I told him we should never surrender. Jerusalem is well fortified and can withstand a lengthy siege. We have plenty of food and a steady water supply. I told him we should wait and trust God.”

“Yes. That’s good advice.” Hilkiah stood and squeezed Eliakim’s shoulder. “You look exhausted, son.”

“I am.”

“Get some sleep. You’re going to have some rough days ahead of you. What a terrible way to end a beautiful Passover celebration!”

Jerusha was asleep with the baby nestled beside her when Eliakim crept into their room. He let his eyes adjust to the darkness, then stood beside the bed gazing at them. The sound of his son’s raspy, labored breathing made Eliakim ache inside. He watched Joshua’s tiny rib cage swell and shrink with each breath.

What would Jerusha do if he died? How could she survive the loss of a second child? And what on earth would happen to her if the Assyrians came back? He might lose her forever to her fear.

The unknown weighed heavily on Eliakim’s heart. All his instincts urged him to protect his family, to shelter and defend them, but he was helpless to do it. He held the second highest position in the land and had enough money to buy anything he needed, but wealth and power couldn’t secure a future for his family. Only Yahweh could.

Suddenly a deep stillness filled the room. It took Eliakim a moment to realize why—the baby had stopped breathing.

“No! O God, no!” He snatched him from Jerusha’s arms. “Breathe! Joshua, breathe!” he cried, shaking his limp body. “O God, please—please don’t take my son!” In desperation, Eliakim put his mouth over Joshua’s and breathed into him.
God of Abraham, please!

“Eliakim, what’s wrong?” Jerusha cried. “Where’s the baby?”

After a moment Eliakim put his ear to the baby’s face and heard a faint rasping sound as Joshua drew one shaky breath, then another and another.

“The baby’s here, Jerusha. I have him. It’s all right.” He put his hand on Joshua’s chest and felt his heart beating weakly. The baby coughed once, then whimpered softly. “Go back to sleep, Jerusha. I’ll rock him for a while.”

Eliakim walked with his son, willing the air in and out of his lungs, willing his unsteady heart to keep beating. Eliakim’s legs felt so weak he could barely stand, and he wanted desperately to sit down, but if he did he might fall asleep. And if he fell asleep, Joshua might stop breathing again. Eliakim felt utterly helpless.

“God of Abraham, you have power,” he prayed. “You can do anything. You’re a God of miracles. You can heal Joshua. You can protect us from the Assyrians. You can make Jerusha whole again. There’s nothing I can do but turn to you, Lord. You hold all our lives in your hand. Please help me, Father. Help little Joshua… .God of Abraham, help us all.”

__________

“Your Majesty, let me go back,” Iddina begged. “I can make King Hezekiah surrender now. His allies are all defeated.”

Emperor Sennacherib took another bite of fruit and licked the juice from his fingers. “I admire your zeal, Iddina, but don’t you want to rest a day or two after our stunning victory?”

“No. I want to conquer Judah.”

“Why worry about it? King Hezekiah’s forces are so feeble that—”

“I don’t want to risk an attack from the rear once we invade Egypt. Let me finish him off while the Egyptians are still stunned.”

“Very well,” the emperor said, wiping his hands on a towel. “How do you want to proceed?”

“You remain here, Your Majesty. I’ll bring Hezekiah a message from you demanding surrender.”

“Write it for me, Iddina. You have a persuasive way with words. How many men do you want?”

“I’ll leave fifty thousand here with you and take the rest.”

“So many? What do you need 185,000 men for? How strong is Hezekiah?”

“The more men I take the more overwhelmed he’ll be, and the sooner he’ll surrender. I’ll rejoin you in a few days, a week at the most. We’ll march into Egypt together.”

“Good. By the way, your men did an excellent job in their war against the rats. I haven’t seen one in a couple of days.”

“Good riddance to them.”

“Yes, but now my senior officers are complaining that the rats were infested with fleas. Once you killed the rats, the fleas hopped onto all our men.”

“That’s not my problem.”

“Well, I promised them that you’d allow the men to get a good bath before we invade Egypt.”

“It’ll have to wait, Your Majesty. We didn’t find any water outside Jerusalem the last time we were there.”

“No water?”

“None, sir.”

“Oh, well—I’m sure you’ll think of something, Iddina. You’re a very resourceful man. Maybe the soldiers can use the Judeans’ baths once you’re inside the city.”

“We’ll do that, sir. And now if you’ll excuse me, I want to make sure the army is prepared to march at dawn.”

Inside the officers’ camp, one of the generals showed Iddina his arms and legs, peppered with red welts. “It’s these cursed fleas. I’m sick to death of them. Can’t we wait another day before we invade Jerusalem so my men have time to wash their clothes and bedding? We’re all miserable.”

“No. We leave at dawn.”

“But everyone is itching like the devil, and—”

“How hard is it to kill a flea?” Iddina shouted. “We’re the most powerful army the world has ever seen! You want me to halt the conquest of an empire so you can kill a handful of fleas?”

“No, my lord.”

“Be ready at dawn!”

Iddina stormed off before the general could reply and made his way to the priests’ camp to seek omens for his final campaign against King Hezekiah. But even though it was early evening, the priests’ camp was deserted, the campfires cold, the torches unlit. As he walked around the high priest’s tent, he heard a low moan coming from inside. Iddina tossed the flap aside and ducked in. The gloomy tent reeked of vomit.

“Who is it?” the high priest groaned.

“Iddina.”

“Please, my lord. You have to help me… .”

Iddina found a lamp and lit it, then carried it to the high priest’s bedside. “Get up! My men march to Jerusalem tomorrow. I need omens.”

“I already know what the omens will say—and you’ve got to help me!”

Iddina squatted down and gazed at the priest. His face looked swollen, his eyes bloodshot. He shivered with fever. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where are the other priests?”

He shook his head and moaned. “Remember the omens, Iddina? I saw them. They foretold death!” He clutched the front of Iddina’s tunic. “You’ve got to help me. I don’t want to die!”

Iddina tried to push him away, but the priest grabbed Iddina’s hand and thrust it inside his tunic. “Feel this. What is this lump? What does it mean?” His fiery skin burned with fever. But when Iddina felt the hard, egg-sized tumor in the priest’s armpit, he recoiled in horror.

“No, don’t leave me!” the priest cried. “Help me! Don’t leave me here to die!”

But Iddina turned and fled from the tent. He found another priest lying in the next tent, moaning feverishly. He held a light near the man’s side and stared at the enormous dark tumor under his arm. When he found a third priest vomiting blood, Iddina fled to the safety of his own tent.

He sat in the darkness for a long time, wondering what to do, unable to deny the paralyzing fear he felt. He had conquered Yahweh’s army of rats, but now the plague of tumors had begun. His final showdown with Yahweh would come tomorrow.

Yahweh possessed powerful magic, and Iddina had no priests to help him ward off this magic. He knew that he had a host of various gods on his side, but was this Judean god stronger than all of them? He had wrestled with that question for seven years, ever since Jerusha had escaped.

Doubt and fear haunted Iddina. Was it only a silly superstition planted by the Philistines? Had there really been more rats than usual, or had he imagined it? Was the fact that three priests were sick with tumors a mere coincidence? He would learn the answer tomorrow. He would settle once and for all the question of which god was superior. Tomorrow he would convince King Hezekiah to surrender, and by tomorrow night he would be inside Yahweh’s Temple. He would confront the imageless god and conquer him and carry away his golden throne.

Iddina grabbed a parchment scroll and began composing the emperor’s letter, demanding King Hezekiah’s unconditional surrender.

28

H
EZEKIAH GAZED
at his wife sleeping beside him in the light of early dawn. Soon he would have to think about the Assyrians again and about his nation. He would have to face the fact that his enemy had destroyed all of his allies, that only his nation remained. He would have to decide what to do. But for now, he studied the contours of his wife’s beautiful face as she slept, savoring the miracle that God’s forgiveness had accomplished in their lives.

After a while Hephzibah stirred and opened her eyes. When she saw him leaning on his elbow, gazing at her, her eyes filled with tears.

“Don’t cry,” he said, wiping them away. “We’ve both shed too many tears already.”

“But I know I must be dreaming—and I don’t want to wake up.”

“It’s not a dream,” he said, kissing her.

When the first shofar sounded the call for the morning sacrifice, Hezekiah reluctantly rose and began to dress. “It’s time for me to go.”

“My lord, would it be all right if I went with you?” Hephzibah asked. He turned to look at her in surprise. “I want to thank God,” she said. “I want to learn about Him—and about what I’m supposed to do.”

“Yes, of course.” He pulled her into his arms again.

“When I was all alone in the villa,” she told him, “your secretary’s wife came to see me. Jerusha offered me her friendship when everyone else abandoned me. And she talked to me about your God, about His forgiveness.” Hezekiah listened in quiet amazement. “I was in so much pain that I wasn’t very kind to her. I refused her friendship and pushed her away. If it’s all right with you, could your servants take me to see her? I want to thank her.”

“Go this morning if you’d like. And Eliakim isn’t my secretary anymore—he’s my palace administrator. My most trusted advisor.”

As Hezekiah climbed the hill to the Temple, he found himself wishing once again that he had listened to Eliakim instead of Shebna. If he had, how differently things might have turned out.

__________

“Jerusha? Are you awake? I brought you some breakfast.” Eliakim set the tray of food on a table and sat down on the edge of the bed beside her.

“Thank you,” she said. “I’ll finish feeding the baby his breakfast first. Is the sacrifice over already?”

“I just got back.” Eliakim watched his son struggle to suck, but after a moment he had to look away. The baby still fought to draw each breath, to live. Eliakim recalled his panic last night when Joshua had stopped breathing and remembered his own terrified prayer as he had breathed life back into him. He decided not to tell Jerusha what had happened, just as he had decided not to tell her that the Egyptian army had been defeated.

Jerusha caressed his hand. “You look so tired. How late were you at the palace last night?”

“I don’t know. I got home sometime during the second watch, I think.” Exhaustion numbed him. He had stayed awake all night making sure their son had continued to breathe.