The Strength of His Hand (40 page)

“I’m not afraid of you, Yahweh,” he wept as he crawled from tent to tent. They were all the same; all his senior officers were dead. All of them had tumors: some in the groin, some in the armpits, a few at the side of the neck. It was just as the Philistine priests had said, just as the two looters had said—Death had stalked the Assyrian camp during the night. Iddina saw his footprints everywhere. Soon Death would come for him, too.

“No!” he shouted. “You can’t kill me like this! I’m a warrior! Kill me in battle! Let me die an honorable death!” Iddina heard laughter ringing in his ears, demonic laughter as the hosts of enemy spirits came to claim him. He couldn’t let them take him yet. He had one more god to conquer—Yahweh.

As the sun rose, Iddina crawled toward the clearing where he had confronted Eliakim. Once again he would demand King Hezekiah’s surrender. He would pour terror into the Judeans’ hearts with his words. He would convince them that their unseen god could never save them.

The morning breeze swiftly blew away the damp clouds, and the weather promised to be bright and hot at last. Iddina saw a flash of sunlight glint off the Temple roof, and it seemed as if Yahweh laughed at him in triumph. Iddina pulled himself to his knees and raised his fist in the air.

“I conquered hundreds of gods! I hold power over a host of deities! Do you think an invisible god can—?” But Iddina never finished his challenge. As blood gushed from his mouth and nose, he collapsed in the clearing outside Jerusalem’s gates.

__________

Heavy clouds had hidden the moon and stars from view as Hezekiah watched atop the city wall all night, silently reciting the psalms of David to bolster his faith and stay awake.

“Deliver me from my enemies, O God;
protect me from those who rise up against me.

Deliver me from evildoers
and save me from bloodthirsty men… .

See what they spew from their mouths—
they spew out swords from their lips,
and they say, ‘Who can hear us?’

But you, O Lord, laugh at them;
you scoff at all those nations… .

I will sing of your strength,
in the morning I will sing of your love;

for you are my fortress,
my refuge in times of trouble
.”

In the pale light just before dawn, Hezekiah detected a flicker of movement in the Assyrian camp. He stood up, straining his eyes to see in the darkened valley below. As he watched, a dozen Assyrian soldiers ran from tent to tent as if to rouse the others from their slumber. But no one seemed to stir from their efforts. After several minutes he saw movement near the horse paddocks. The handful of soldiers saddled some of the horses, then mounted and galloped out of the valley, quickly disappearing in the low-hanging clouds.

“What do you make of all that?” Hezekiah asked the soldier standing watch beside him.

“I can’t even guess, Your Majesty.”

Several minutes passed, and the shadowy valley remained still. Slumped against the wall beside him, Eliakim suddenly stirred from his sleep and sat up. “I’m sorry … I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“It’s all right. Everything’s been quiet.”

“What time is it?”

“The last watch. Almost dawn.”

Eliakim pulled himself to his feet as Hezekiah told him about the soldiers who had ridden away.

“It certainly seems strange,” Eliakim agreed.

“I stayed awake all night, and I never saw a watch fire or a torch or even an oil lamp,” Hezekiah said.

“How can they keep predators away from the camp without watch fires?”

“Something is very odd, Eliakim. Let’s walk a bit.” Cold and cramped from his all-night vigil, Hezekiah began a slow circuit of the top of the city wall with Eliakim, stopping to talk to his unit commanders along the way. The enemy encampment completely surrounded Jerusalem, but with the exception of the Assyrian horses, they saw no sign of movement or life.

As the sun rose higher, Jerusalem began to stir. Hezekiah smelled the smoke of early fires and heard the faint grinding of hand mills. Serving girls walked through the streets toward the Pool of Siloam with their jars on their heads. But outside the walls all was quiet.

It took Hezekiah and Eliakim almost two hours to complete their circuit and return to where they had started. By the time they stood overlooking the Kidron Valley once again, the sun had risen over the Mount of Olives, chasing away the chilly clouds.

“Was that body lying down there before, Your Majesty?” Eliakim asked. He pointed to a figure sprawled facedown in the clearing where the Rabshekah had stood a day earlier.

“I don’t know. It was too dark to see when we started our circuit.”

The Assyrian horses whinnied, pacing restlessly in the paddocks. “They’ll need water,” Hezekiah said. “Especially once the sun gets high.” But the Assyrian camp remained motionless. A quiet surge of hope swelled inside Hezekiah.

“Do you suppose it’s a trick?” Eliakim asked. “To get us to open the gates?”

“We’ll wait and see.”

Soon word began to spread throughout the city that nothing moved in the Assyrian camp, and people hurried to the walls to see. As they packed the ledge, gazing in wonder at the scene below, no one spoke above a whisper, as if awed into silence themselves. The only sounds Hezekiah heard as he stood watching and waiting were the joyous chorus of birds in the olive groves and the distant sound of frightened horses as they capered nervously in their corrals.

__________

“Lord Emperor?”

“Get back! Stay away from me!” The servant froze in the doorway of Emperor Sennacherib’s tent. “What is it now? More sickness?” The linen cloth the emperor held over his nose and mouth muffled his voice.

“Worse!”

“Tell me.”

“A dozen soldiers just rode in from your camp outside Jerusalem, and—”

“Has King Hezekiah surrendered yet? Or are the Judeans fighting back?”

“Your Majesty, this handful of soldiers are the only survivors!”

“Handful! Where are the others?”

“It’s a disaster of unbelievable proportions! A plague has spread throughout the entire camp, and—”

“What about my commander in chief? My officers? My Rabshekah?”

“They’re all dead, along with your entire army! One hundred and eighty-five thousand soldiers!”

“May all the gods preserve us!” Sennacherib clutched the cloth to his mouth, murmuring incantations to the gods as he dropped into his chair.

“It was the same sickness as here, my lord. All the men had fevers and tumors.”

Sennacherib trembled as fear rocked through him. He had to get out of Judean territory, away from Yahweh, the god of plagues and pestilences. The stories of the devastation he had inflicted on Egypt centuries before were legendary, but the emperor had never believed in them until now. Nor would he have believed the Philistines’ superstitious story of rats and tumors if he hadn’t witnessed this plague with his own eyes. Yahweh’s power was beyond his comprehension.

“I was so close!” he suddenly cried. “I could have conquered Egypt. I could have succeeded where my father and grandfather failed. How… ?Why… ? Are you certain they’re all dead?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“I had the most powerful army the world has ever seen! How could the gods fail me like this? How could they let the god of Judah defeat us all?” Sennacherib’s anger and frustration brought him close to tears, but he couldn’t allow his servant to witness his distress.

“Break camp,” he said suddenly. “Right now. Right away. We’ll take whatever men are left. The healthy ones. Make sure none of them are sick.”

“Where will we go?”

“If what you say is true—if my army is truly destroyed—then I have no choice. I’ll have to return to Nineveh.”

“What about the men who are sick and dying?”

“Leave them.”

“But—”

“Don’t you understand? We have to get out of Judean territory now! Away from the wrath of their god! Harness my chariot! Hurry!”

Alone in his tent, Sennacherib raged at the injustice of it all. He had defeated nations far more powerful than Judah—Babylon, Moab, and a huge Egyptian army. How could he return home in defeat, conquered by King Hezekiah of Judah? He thought of all the golden images he had deported to his temple in Nineveh, but the unseen, imageless god of Israel had defeated him in the end. Sennacherib covered his face in anger and despair.

__________

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, the morning wind carried the stench of death to the top of the wall. A half-dozen vultures began making slow, sweeping circles over the valley.

“Your Majesty, it’s been hours,” Eliakim said. “Nothing has moved down there. Let me go out and investigate.”

“Are you sure you want to do that, Eliakim?”

“Yes. I’m not afraid.”

“I’ll go, too,” the general said, “with some of my men.”

“Take volunteers. No one should go out unless he wants to.”

Excitement crept through Eliakim as he descended the stairs and waited for the soldiers to open the city gate for him.

“You’re not armed, my lord. Do you want my dagger again?” General Benjamin asked.

“No. I won’t need it.” Eliakim knew Yahweh had worked a miracle. He jogged across the clearing toward the Assyrian camp, his legs trembling with anticipation. When he reached the body lying facedown, he kicked it over with his foot. Trails of dried blood ran from Iddina’s ears and nose and mouth. His wide eyes stared sightlessly.

“Oh, thank God … thank God,” Eliakim murmured. Yahweh had done it—He had avenged Jerusha more wonderfully than Eliakim could have ever imagined. He looked for something to take to Jerusha, something to prove that Iddina was dead, and spotted the dagger tucked in Iddina’s belt. He remembered Jerusha’s story of the night she had nearly ended her life with that dagger. He pulled it from Iddina’s belt and carefully tucked it into his own.

Suddenly Eliakim heard a soft moan and looked up. Gedaliah dangled above him on the stake.

“General Benjamin! Come over here,” Eliakim shouted. “Help me take him down.” Gedaliah cried out in agony as they lifted him off the stake and laid him on the grass. “Do you have any water we can give him?” Eliakim asked.

“He won’t live, my lord,” the general whispered as he untied a skin of water from his belt.

“I know. But we can still ease his suffering. Tell your men to take the others down, too.” He raised Gedaliah’s head and poured water between his parched lips.

“Eliakim? You came back?”

“The siege is over, Gedaliah. The Assyrians are all dead. Yahweh destroyed them during the night.” The prince sighed and closed his eyes.

Eliakim stood and began to jog toward the Assyrian camp. Under the hot sun, the stench of death nearly overpowered him. He needed to look in only three or four tents to know what he would find in all the others. All the Assyrians were dead. Hundreds of thousands of them.

He turned around and ran back toward the gate, shouting to King Hezekiah and the men on the wall above him as he ran. “They’re dead! Yahweh sent the angel of death! The Assyrians are all dead!”

The cheer that went up from the city made Eliakim’s ears ring. He was breathless when he reached King Hezekiah on the wall. He bent over with his hands on his thighs, panting. “They’re all dead!”

“Plunder the Assyrians’ weapons and chariots,” the king ordered his soldiers. “Then burn all their tents and the dead bodies.” He turned to Eliakim, his voice hoarse with emotion. “Well, I guess I didn’t need to buy Egyptian horses after all. Yahweh sent more horses than I can possibly use!”

“Your Majesty, may I go home for … I have to tell …”

“Yes! Certainly, Eliakim! Go!”

He took off at a run again, never slowing until he burst through his front door. He took the stairs two at a time and was stunned to see Hephzibah still sitting on his bed, gently rocking his son. Jerusha looked shaky, but she was all right.

Eliakim could barely talk. He carefully pulled Iddina’s dagger from his belt and laid it in Jerusha’s hands. “Look!”

“That’s Iddina’s!”

“Yes. He won’t need it anymore. He’s dead.” She stared at it, wide-eyed, as if afraid of it. “I saw him with my own eyes, Jerusha. He’s dead. They’re
all
dead. The entire Assyrian army. Yahweh worked a miracle!”

Hephzibah touched his sleeve. “Eliakim. Yahweh worked another miracle last night. Here.” She laid Eliakim’s tiny son in his arms. Joshua’s breathing was smooth and even.

“God of Abraham, thank you!” he whispered. Suddenly the baby opened his eyes. He gazed up at Eliakim for a moment; then his miniature face puckered. And for the first time in his short life, Joshua let out a gusty wail.

__________

As Hezekiah looked down from the wall at the miracle Yahweh had performed, he wondered if Moses could have felt more joy when the Red Sea swallowed the Egyptians. “Praise our God, O peoples,” he said aloud, “let the sound of His praise be heard; He has preserved our lives and kept our feet from slipping.”

The shofars began to sound from the Temple hill, trumpeting in joy and triumph. It was still Passover week, the celebration of Yahweh’s deliverance in the past. Now they would celebrate His deliverance in the present, eyewitnesses to God’s salvation power. Hezekiah climbed down from the wall to join the joyful pilgrimage to the Temple.

When he reached the lower gate, he found Shebna waiting for him. He looked like such a weary old man that Hezekiah barely recognized him at first. His back sagged beneath the weight of his body, and his stubbled chin trembled when he spoke.

“Your Majesty, I … I see it with my eyes … but I …” Then much to Hezekiah’s surprise, Shebna began to weep. In all their years together it had never happened before. Hezekiah rested his hand on his friend’s shoulder, fighting his own tears.

“We tried so hard to figure out a way to save ourselves, didn’t we, Shebna? Weapons, fortresses, armies, alliances. We worked for fourteen years, but all our efforts failed. We were helpless. But what we were powerless to do, Yahweh accomplished in a single night! They’re all dead! The entire Assyrian army! Hundreds of thousands of men! They can never threaten us again. Can you comprehend that? I-I don’t think I can.” Hezekiah brushed a tear from his eye with the heel of his hand.