The Strength Of His Hand Part 39

"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 G.o.ds preserve us!" Sennacherib clutched the cloth to his mouth, murmuring incantations to the G.o.ds 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 G.o.d 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' superst.i.tious 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 G.o.ds fail me like this? How could they let the G.o.d 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 G.o.d! 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 G.o.d 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 a.s.syrian camp, his legs trembling with antic.i.p.ation. 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 G.o.d ... thank G.o.d," 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 gra.s.s. "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 a.s.syrians are all dead. Yahweh destroyed them during the night." The prince sighed and closed his eyes.

Eliakim stood and began to jog toward the a.s.syrian 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 a.s.syrians 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 a.s.syrians 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 a.s.syrians' weapons and chariots," the king ordered his soldiers. "Then burn all their tents and the dead bodies." He turned to Eliakim, his voice hoa.r.s.e 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 a.s.syrian 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.

"G.o.d 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 G.o.d, 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 Pa.s.sover week, the celebration of Yahweh's deliverance in the past. Now they would celebrate His deliverance in the present, eyewitnesses to G.o.d'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 a.s.syrian 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.

"Your Majesty, I beg you. Let me stand in the Court of the Gentiles today. Please."

"Do you believe in Yahweh, Shebna?"

"I cannot deny this miracle ..."

"If you're coming to seek G.o.d, I know you'll find Him. But don't come to the Temple for any other reason."

Shebna looked into Hezekiah's eyes. "Will you help me, Your Majesty? Will you help me believe?"

Hezekiah squeezed his shoulder and nodded. "Come on."

As they pa.s.sed the Women's Court, Hezekiah saw Hephzibah kneeling in worship. He was so overwhelmed with grat.i.tude and praise he could no longer stop his tears. He knelt on the royal platform and closed his eyes, praying silently. O Lord, let me praise you with my life. Let me live in faith and obedience to you. Then he fell on his face before G.o.d as the praises of the Levites rang from the Temple hill in triumphant song: In Judah G.o.d is known;

his name is great in Israel.

His tent is in Salem,

his dwelling place in Zion.

There he broke the flashing arrows,

the shields and the swords, the weapons of war.

You are resplendent with light,

more majestic than mountains rich with game.

Valiant men lie plundered,

they sleep their last sleep;

not one of the warriors

can lift his hands.

At your rebuke, O G.o.d of Jacob,

both horse and chariot lie still.

You alone are to be feared.

Who can stand before you when you are angry?

From heaven you p.r.o.nounced judgment,

and the land feared and was quiet-

when you, O G.o.d, rose up to judge,

to save all the afflicted of the land.