Song of Redemption (31 page)

A moment later Eliakim hurried in with his arms full. “I’m sorry for being late, Your Majesty,” he said as he dropped his burdens on a table. “But I’ve brought a guest—someone we all should listen to.”

“You know that all visitors must be approved by me first,” Shebna said. “It is too late to change our agenda now.”

“But I didn’t have any advance notice myself. We only met for the first time late last night. Please, Your Majesty—I promise it’ll be very helpful to our discussion of Judah’s defenses.”

Hezekiah hesitated, then decided to trust Eliakim’s judgment. “All right. Bring him in.”

“Well, it’s … uh … it’s a woman, Your Majesty.”

Shebna appeared outraged. “A woman in council? No. That is unheard of. We cannot—”

Hezekiah held up his hand to silence him—and to stop the whispering among his advisors. “Are you certain this is relevant, Eliakim?”

“Yes. Very relevant.”

Again Hezekiah hesitated before making such an unprecedented decision. “Bring her in.”

Shebna slouched in his seat, but Hezekiah’s advisors sat up in amazement. Eliakim motioned to his guest. The woman who entered was painfully thin, her face so shrunken that her cheekbones protruded. Haunting green eyes dominated her face, and fear dominated her skittish movements. She seemed terrified by the somber atmosphere and staring faces. How could this half-starved young woman possibly help with Judah’s defenses?

“You may begin, Eliakim, whenever you’re both ready,” Hezekiah said.

“Your Majesty, this is Jerusha, daughter of Jerimoth. She is a refugee from Israel.”

An eerie silence crept over the room. Hezekiah knew that the Assyrians had pronounced a death sentence on Israel, but to see living proof of it in this emaciated woman unnerved him.

“The fact that Jerusha is here at all is a miracle,” Eliakim continued. “She was captured by the Assyrians and lived with their army for more than three years.”

A murmur of astonishment swept the room. Hezekiah leaned forward. “I would like to hear everything you can tell us about the Assyrians, Jerusha,” he said. “Would you share your story with us?”

Jerusha’s trembling legs could barely hold her. Hezekiah waited, watching her anxiously. Eliakim took her arm to support her, and Hezekiah heard him say quietly to her, “Take your time. You’ve been through so many terrifying events already. You don’t need to be scared now. You’re among friends.”

She nodded, then began to speak in a voice that was so soft that Hezekiah had to strain to hear her. “I lived with my family on my father’s land until the Assyrians raided our village. They captured my two cousins … and … and …”

“It’s all right—take your time,” Eliakim soothed. “Forgive me for making you relive this, but it’s so important. Please, Jerusha?”

She took a deep breath. “They killed my cousins, but I was allowed to live as … as their slave. I served as a cook for four army officers, and I traveled with them as they waged war.”

Hezekiah could scarcely stay seated. “You actually lived with the Assyrian army? You watched how they besiege cities?”

“Yes. I will tell you what I can about them.”

“That would be a tremendous help to us, Jerusha,” Hezekiah said. “But first, I’m curious to know how you escaped.”

“I didn’t escape. They set me free, just for fun. It was a contest to see who could track me down again.”

“That’s outrageous!” General Jonadab cried. “What kind of men would do such a thing?”

Hezekiah shook his head in disbelief. “And yet they obviously didn’t recapture you. How did you escape from them?”

“I … I walked night and day, across the mountains. And I made it back to my father’s land. But they caught up to me and—” Tears filled her hollow eyes and slipped silently down her thin face. “My sister and I hid in a cistern beneath my father’s house while the Assyrians killed my parents and destroyed our land. We wandered everywhere, searching for our relatives, but there’s no one left. The country has been destroyed—thousands of people are dead… . It is a holocaust.”

Hezekiah remembered Isaiah’s prophecy:
“Until their cities are
destroyed—without a person left—and the whole country is an utter wasteland.”
He fought a surge of fear, the same fear that had destroyed his father.

“My sister and I walked to Jerusalem,” Jerusha continued, “to stay with my father’s friend, Master Hilkiah. We traveled at night over the mountains, avoiding the roads and Assyrian horse patrols. It took us three months to get here. We hid in caves and in tombs, sometimes for days, until it was safe to come out again. The Assyrian armies were swarming all over Israel, but we finally escaped and crossed the border into Judah.”

The men stared at her in awe and respect. “I commend you for your incredible courage,” Hezekiah said quietly. “Now, tell me—do you think the Assyrians will be able to conquer Samaria?”

“Yes, I’m certain they will.”

General Jonadab stood up. “Wait a minute—Samaria is a great fortress city with strong, thick walls. And it’s built on a steep hill, much like Jerusalem. How can they defeat it?”

“The Assyrians use powerful weapons of war and machines that can break down even the strongest walls. Besides, they don’t accept defeat. I’ve never seen them lose. They’re willing to wait many years until a city starves to death or dies of thirst.”

“And that is Jerusalem’s greatest weakness,” Shebna said. “Our water supply. We could never withstand an Assyrian siege.”

“He’s right,” Jonadab nodded in agreement. “Can you tell us about these war machines?”

“They build powerful battering rams on wheels, fortified so they can attack the walls without being set on fire from above. The men inside them are armored against arrows and spears. The machines keep attacking the wall in the same place until a breach is made and the wall crumbles.”

“But if the city is built on a hill, like Samaria, how do these machines get near the base of the walls?” Shebna asked.

“They send men out ahead of the army to chop down trees and clear a path for the marching troops. They use the trees, along with rocks or mud bricks, to build ramps up to the walls. They have men who are trained to build these earthworks and handle the machines of war. They also have men who tunnel under the wall.”

Hezekiah thought about Jerusalem’s ancient, crumbling walls and knew the Assyrians already outmatched him. “What about their other weapons?” he asked grimly.

“Every soldier is well armed and extremely well trained. Discipline is very important to them. Cruelty is honored. All the soldiers wear thick, protective clothing and helmets, besides carrying shields. Their foot soldiers are highly skilled with bows and arrows and slings. They spend all their spare time practicing, and their aim is deadly accurate.”

“What about the cavalry?” General Jonadab asked.

“For every hundred foot soldiers there are ten cavalrymen. They’re sent ahead of the army to scout for ambushes or to size up the enemy. These horse patrols are so swift and skilled that they can appear and disappear suddenly before their enemies’ eyes like ghosts, terrifying them. Some have spears and swords, some have bows and arrows, but they all carry a short dagger for hand-to-hand combat. They can use all of these weapons with deadly skill, even while riding on horseback at great speed. They guide their horses with their knees so both hands remain free to aim and shoot.”

Shebna muttered a curse and shifted in his seat. “What about chariots?”

“For every ten cavalrymen there is a chariot, heavily armed with strong metal plates. Each chariot holds three men—the driver, the warrior, who is armed with bows and spears, and a third man to shield the other two. The chariots are pulled by two horses and are extremely fast. Some even have a third horse tied behind in case one of the others gets injured.”

Jerusha drew a deep breath, as if summoning the strength to continue. “The chariots usually charge first, and very few armies can survive the first attack. Just the sight of them and the sound of their pounding wheels usually cause the enemy to run. The chariots fan out in pursuit, crushing the enemy beneath their wheels.”

“You’ve painted a very vivid picture of our enemies,” Hezekiah said. “Trained, disciplined, professional soldiers too numerous to count. We’re not prepared for an assault by such a powerful foe. Do you have any idea what their plans are after they finish with Israel?”

“No, Your Majesty. I have no idea. But when they’re ready to march, they can move with lightning speed.”

“And are they as brutal and bloodthirsty as they’re rumored to be?” Jonadab asked.

“They … they …” Her eyes darted wildly about, as if the Assyrians might be hiding in the next room. Her fear quickly became contagious. Hezekiah saw it written across the pale faces of his advisors.

“Their lust for blood and their love of torture make them seem … inhuman,” she said. “They study their enemies’ weaknesses and use warfare of the mind to terrify them before they attack. After the battle, the soldiers make huge pyramids of severed heads, and they get paid for each one. Then they turn to their prisoners of war. The lucky ones are killed quickly. They’re made to kneel down as the soldiers smash their skulls with clubs. Others are carried away into slavery like I was. The least fortunate prisoners are the nobles and kings—” She stopped as if suddenly remembering whom she was talking to.

“It’s all right,” Hezekiah assured her. “You may continue.”

She twisted her thin hands nervously. “The Assyrians love to torture their captives. They prefer slow, agonizing deaths for the highestranking officers and nobility, torturing them for several days before impaling them on stakes and leaving them to slowly die. But they torture the king most horribly of all. Th-they stake him to the ground and … and gradually skin him alive—”

“That’s enough!” Shebna shouted. He leaped from his seat, and Jerusha shrank back in fear.

“You don’t have to yell at her,” Eliakim said. He moved to put his arm around Jerusha, but she shrank away from him, too.

“She has made her point,” Shebna said. “The rumors of Assyrian atrocities are true. There is no need for her to continue.”

Hezekiah felt the tension in the throne room. The Assyrians were a formidable enemy, mobilizing their entire empire into a massive war machine. No one could defeat them. Yet he had rebelled against them. He forced himself to appear calm and controlled.

“After Jerusha’s report I think we all realize the critical situation we face. We must strengthen and fortify this city as well as others throughout Judah—” Hezekiah stopped, watching Jerusha with growing concern. She was trembling as if shaken by a mighty wind, and her gaunt face had turned pale, her eyes wide with horror. She looked as though she might collapse.

“Let’s take a break,” Hezekiah said. “I think Eliakim had better take Jerusha home.”

When Jerusha left the meeting with Eliakim, she could scarcely walk. She heard him talking to her, thanking her for coming with him, telling her how important her information was to the council, but a strange whirring sound, like the flapping of a thousand wings, drowned out most of his words.

Eliakim led her through a maze of corridors, then across an inner courtyard, but her legs felt heavy and slow. By the time they reached the outer courtyard of the palace, her knees buckled beneath her like a rag doll’s, and she collapsed on the stone pavement. As her vision narrowed and darkness crept in, Jerusha saw thousands of demonic creatures swirling around her head, swooping and diving at her with sharp, bloodied beaks. She screamed and closed her eyes, shielding her head with her arms.

“No! No! Get away from me!”

Suddenly she was back in the Assyrian camp again, smelling the smoke and the stench of death, hearing the agonized cries of the dying, witnessing the endless torture and brutality, the forests of impaled bodies, the mounds of human heads, the ever-circling vultures. She began to scream, crying out in horror for all the years that she hadn’t dared to scream.

“Jerusha? Jerusha, what’s wrong?”

She heard Eliakim calling her, but his voice wasn’t strong enough to pull her back. She began spiraling down into darkness as she relived the nightmare: the first horrible moment of rape, the years of living in the pit of hell, the day Iddina snatched her baby from her arms. She remembered her escape, running blindly, hopelessly, while the Assyrian army pursued her; almost being roasted alive in the stifling cistern; then holding her mother’s lifeless body in her arms.

As Eliakim tried to help her to her feet, Jerusha remembered Iddina’s brutality, and she lashed out blindly at him.

“No! Get away from me! Don’t touch me!”

“Jerusha, it’s all right! You’re safe now—it’s all right!”

He tried to soothe her, but she clawed at him, then struck him with her fists as he struggled to subdue her. Eliakim persevered, patiently enduring her wild blows until he held her tightly in his embrace.

“It’s all right, Jerusha. I won’t hurt you… . God of Abraham, please help her!”

Jerusha barely heard him. Once again she lived the nightmare that never ended, and her screams filled the courtyard.

Gradually the vivid scenes began to fade, and her terrible cries died down to a whimper. As if slowly awakening from a long sleep, she became aware of blue skies above her head, of cobblestones warmed by the sun beneath her, of open space all around her. Eliakim knelt on the ground with her, clasping her tightly. His cheek rested against her hair. Bloody scratches covered his arms where the whirring creatures had sunk their talons, but Eliakim had fought them off.