Gods And Kings (30 page)
“Who wants to see me? Tell me what’s going on,” he ordered.
“Your Majesty, envoys have arrived in Jerusalem from the northern kingdom of Israel,” the chamberlain explained. “They’ve requested an audience with you to present a petition from their king.”
“There can be no audience with King Ahaz unless they explain their petition to me first,” Uriah interrupted. “That’s standard diplomatic courtesy.”
Ahaz’s interest grew. He hadn’t received a foreign emissary in many years, except from Assyria—and they came each year only to collect the annual tribute payments. He shifted in his seat with excitement, then leaned forward to announce his decision.
“Bring the envoys to me. Tell them I’ll hear their petition.”
“No, Your Majesty, wait,” Uriah pleaded. “We need to take our time and think through all the implications of this. I advise you to postpone a hearing of their petition until tomorrow. Take time to consider—”
“I don’t want to wait. I want to know why they’ve come.”
“But receiving diplomats from another nation is a very serious decision, Your Majesty. If word reaches Assyria that we received them, they could interpret it as an act of rebellion. They might think we’re plotting to form an alliance with Israel.”
“That’s ridiculous. I want to know why they’ve come, and I want to know now.” He waved Uriah away and nodded to the chamberlain. “Bring them here.”
“Wait!” Uriah grabbed the chamberlain’s arm to prevent him from leaving. “Your Majesty, I must advise you that the Assyrians—” “I know what you’ve advised. You just told me. And your advice is nonsense. Besides, Emperor Tiglath-Pileser is no longer a threat to us because he’s dead.”
News of the Assyrian emperor’s death had reached Ahaz a month ago. He had lived in mortal fear of the man for years, never forgetting the emperor’s brutality and ruthlessness or how he had tortured the leaders of Damascus. But at last Ahaz was free from his fear. The monarch who haunted his dreams was dead.
“Yes, he’s dead, Your Majesty. But that’s precisely why we need to be even more cautious,” Uriah insisted. “His death doesn’t mean that we’re no longer an Assyrian vassal. In fact, the emperor’s successor will probably act swiftly to quench any fires of rebellion that flare up in order to confirm his authority.”
“My mind is made up,” Ahaz said. “I will receive the envoy right now.”
Uriah’s shoulders sagged in defeat. He released the chamberlain and took his seat beside Ahaz. “I hope this doesn’t end in disaster,” he mumbled.
The chamberlain returned a short time later, followed by King Hoshea’s emissaries and a dozen slaves bearing gifts for Ahaz. They paraded into the carpeted throne room and bowed low before him, giving Ahaz a feeling of power and authority he hadn’t experienced for a long time. He remembered the humiliation he had suffered when he’d been forced to bow before the Assyrian monarch, and he silently vowed that he would never bow to any man again.
“Your Majesty, King Ahaz ben Jotham, Great and Mighty King of Judah, we are your humble servants.” They bowed again, touching their foreheads to the floor. Ahaz allowed them to remain in that posture for several moments before stretching out his scepter to acknowledge their obeisance.
“You may rise and state your petition.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” the leading delegate said. “We bear gifts and a message from our lord, King Hoshea of Israel.”
“The last emissaries from Israel were soldiers who besieged my city,” Ahaz reminded them. “I’m pleased to see that your new king has decided to treat me with respect. State your petition.”
“Your Majesty, our lord King Hoshea would like to meet with your representatives at a conference in Samaria. He wishes to discuss a united approach in our relations with the new Assyrian monarch, Shalmaneser.”
Uriah leaped from his chair. “Do you know what you’re proposing? Has your king gone insane?” He turned to Ahaz, pleading urgently. “Your Majesty, you must send them away at once to let it be known that Judah would never consider joining such a conspiracy.
The Assyrians have spies everywhere!”
“Oh, sit down,” Ahaz said, waving him aside. “When I want your advice I’ll ask for it. You may continue,” he told the envoy.
“As you know, the Assyrians annexed our northern-most territories as provinces fourteen years ago. But lately they’ve begun raiding many of our border towns and villages, carrying our people away as captives and plundering our land. This is in addition to their heavy tribute demands. Now that Tiglath-Pileser is dead, our king has decided to throw off the heavy Assyrian yoke that has crippled us for so long. He’s sending envoys to the Egyptian pharaoh, as well, asking him to join with us in putting an end to Assyrian domination.”
Uriah sprang from his seat again to confront the Israeli representative. “Has your king forgotten what happened the last time your nation tried to form an alliance against Assyria?” He turned to Ahaz. “Your Majesty, please. You saw what happened to Damascus. Do you want to risk the same punishment for Jerusalem?”
Once again, Ahaz recalled the torture and devastation he had witnessed. But his old adversary was dead. He had no reason to fear. The prospect of meeting with the Egyptian pharaoh and the kings of other nations excited him. It was time he took his place as a world leader again.
“Your petition is very interesting,” he told the emissary. “I will need some time to consider it.”
“But there’s nothing to consider!” Uriah said. “They’re proposing treason and suicide! Please, you must stop this discussion before it goes too far—” “Enough!” Ahaz silenced him with a shout. “I’ll do whatever I please. As I was saying,” he told the envoy in a calm voice, “you will accept my hospitality as royal guests and dine with me tomorrow night. I will have an answer for King Hoshea by then. You are dismissed.” Ahaz watched as they paraded from the throne room, leaving their gifts spread at his feet. Then he turned to Uriah who sat stiffly beside him. “I want you to assemble the men who took part in my trade delegation to Tyre and have them join me for dinner tonight. We’ll send them to Samaria with this delegation. Make sure you include my son, Hezekiah. He’ll be my personal representative. I shall return to my chambers now.”
Ahaz was aware of Uriah following him across the courtyard, his face creased with frustration, even despair. His distress gave Ahaz a rare feeling of power over the intimidating priest, and he liked the feeling. He hoped that Uriah would plead with him further so he would have the pleasure of refusing him again. When Ahaz reached his chambers, Uriah granted his wish.
“Your Majesty, please listen to me, I beg you. You’re endangering the safety of our entire nation. I urge you to have the emissaries stripped and beaten immediately and sent back to King Hoshea in disgrace. The Assyrians would surely interpret that in a favorable light.”
“I don’t care about the Assyrians. I’ve decided to join with Israel and Egypt and gain our independence from them.”
“But we couldn’t possibly break free from Assyria, even with Egypt’s help. Don’t you understand? Jerusalem will end up just like Damascus.”
The more desperately Uriah pleaded the more it amused Ahaz, but he soon grew tired of the game. He needed a rest.
“Uriah, I’m sick of listening to you. If you can’t support my policies, then maybe I’d better look for a new palace administrator.” He smiled and closed his chamber door in Uriah’s face.
Uriah returned to his own chambers feeling stunned and sick. Why would a king who had been a docile puppet for so many years suddenly abandon all reason and commit political suicide? Because that’s exactly what Ahaz had foolishly done. With this one rash act, Ahaz had pronounced a death sentence on his entire nation. The royal dinner tomorrow night was just the final knot in the noose that Ahaz had already slipped around Judah’s neck.
Uriah paced around his chambers, trapped in a pit too deep for escape, cursing Ahaz and his impetuous decisions. How had Uriah suddenly lost control over him? And how could he gain it back? He had run the nation for years without any interference from Ahaz, and life under the Assyrians had been safe and predictable, even if it had been financially crippling. Why had the king picked this moment to suddenly decide to take control again?
The king had refused to listen to reason, and Uriah knew that if he continued to plead with him he was certain to lose his position in the court. But if he didn’t talk him out of this alliance, Ahaz’s participation in the rebellion would bring dreadful consequences on his nation. The Assyrian retaliation would be swift and ruthless. King Ahaz and all of his officials would be tortured to death, and Jerusalem destroyed. Why couldn’t Ahaz see that? It was up to Uriah to save his nation from annihilation—but how?
He spent the rest of the morning carefully considering every possible solution to his dilemma and examining all the implications. He could try to reason with Ahaz again and risk being fired—or worse. He could get the support of Ahaz’s other advisors and maybe his army commanders—and risk being accused of conspiracy. He could go behind Ahaz’s back and send the delegation away in disgrace on his own—and risk execution for treason. But none of those risks could compare to what the Assyrians would do to him. Either way, Uriah faced a death sentence. And why should he be the one to die when King Ahaz was the fool who had placed the nation in such terrible danger?
In the end, Uriah knew that only one solution remained: He must place a new king on Judah’s throne, one who would refuse to join Israel’s conspiracy, one who would appease Assyria before it was too late. Ahaz had to be eliminated—permanently.
Uriah felt confident that if Prince Hezekiah were to inherit the throne suddenly, he would allow Uriah to continue as palace administrator. Then he could influence Hezekiah to reject the Israeli alliance. But first he had to get rid of Ahaz.
Uriah’s decision made sense to his rational mind, yet another part of him drew back in horror at the idea. For over an hour, he paced his room in frustration as the battle raged between the voice of reason and the vestiges of his conscience. It was a fight between the two sides of himself—the powerful palace administrator and the almost-forgotten high priest of Yahweh.
He was contemplating murder. His conscience recoiled at the thought. How could he have degenerated into a murderer? When did the process start? Was it when he turned his back on Ahaz’s idolatry, or when he helped sacrifice those children to Molech? Had planning the first murder made this one a little easier?
But there had been no choice back then. Ahaz had chosen to murder his sons, and Uriah had only participated in order to gain the king’s confidence. And it had been a worthwhile decision, enabling him to do a great deal of good for the nation all these years. And he had no choice now. This alliance with Egypt would bring disaster. Assyria would certainly retaliate. Ahaz was jeopardizing everything they had worked for, and Uriah had to act before the alliance went any further. He was the only one who could save his nation.
But what about Yahweh? Wasn’t his nation in Yahweh’s hands?
Or didn’t Uriah believe that anymore? His beliefs didn’t matter anyway. King Ahaz wasn’t going to suddenly start trusting Yahweh after all these years. He was placing his trust in a new alliance, just as he had foolishly trusted Assyria. So maybe Zechariah had been right years ago. He had warned Uriah that he would change if he compromised his beliefs. And in his heart, Uriah knew that he had changed. He had wanted to stop the king’s idolatry, but instead he had become a willing participant in it.
No. Uriah dismissed that thought with an angry shake of his head. Zechariah was an embittered, defeated alcoholic who didn’t know what he was talking about. And the king was an irresponsible fool. Without Uriah, Ahaz would have destroyed this nation long ago. It was up to him to stop Ahaz now.
But was killing him the only way to stop him?
It was written in the Torah,
You shall not murder
. But didn’t the Torah also say somewhere that it was permissible to take a life in order to save a life? In this case, Uriah was saving millions of lives, the entire population of Judah. Certainly the Torah would sanction that. It might even be considered self-defense.
And it also might be considered the just punishment Ahaz deserved for all the murders he had committed. His helpless children. His innocent wife. Ahaz had murdered Abijah, and in God’s eyes—and Uriah’s—that was reason enough to execute him.
An eye for an eye—a life for a life
.
Gradually, Uriah’s frantic pacing slowed and his steps became more firm and assured. His worry relaxed into quiet resolve: King Ahaz must die.
The only thing left to decide was
how
. The king would have to die in a way that would throw no suspicion on himself. It was important that Uriah remain in power to deal with the political crisis. And Ahaz had to be killed immediately. The dinner with the Israelite envoys tomorrow night must never take place.
Uriah reviewed every moment of Ahaz’s daily routine, searching for the precise time, the exact place when Ahaz was most vulnerable. One thread ran through the fabric of the king’s daily life with unwavering consistency—his dependence on the drugged Assyrian wine. He was rarely without a glass of it close at hand. As his priest, Uriah had access to those drugs. He also understood that too much could be fatal.
Convinced of what he must do, Uriah went to find the king’s royal cupbearer.
H
EZEKIAH DRUMMED HIS FINGERS
on the banquet table. His father often arrived late for his meals, sometimes staggering in drunkenly, but he had outdone himself tonight. Ahaz had invited all the men who took part in his trade delegation to join him for dinner, then kept his guests waiting for over an hour. Hezekiah had watched in disgust as the steaming platters of meat grew cold and the bloody fat congealed into hard puddles on the plates. The servants who had carried the huge meal into the banquet room stood evenly spaced like mute statues around the perimeter of the table, waiting.
It seemed to Hezekiah that he had spent the last several months waiting for Ahaz. After making the trip to Tyre six months ago with his new father-in-law, Hezekiah had waited in vain to be offered a position in Ahaz’s government. The trade agreement had proved worthless, just as he had predicted, and Ahaz hadn’t sent for him again until tonight’s mysterious dinner.
