The Chronicles of the Kings Collection

by Lynn Austin

  Once again, Hezekiah extended his scepter. He had made his decision. “You may rise,” he said. “Babylon is an ancient and honored land. Tell King Merodach-Baladan that I thank him for his generous gifts and I accept his offer. I am pleased to grasp his hand in friendship.”

  A spontaneous cheer arose from the Judean nobles crowded along the rear walls of the throne room. This momentous occasion called for a celebration.

  “And now, Ambassador, please allow me to extend my hospitality to you and the members of your delegation. My palace administrator will host a state dinner tonight in your honor, and you will be my guests here in the palace for as long as you care to stay.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty,” the ambassador said, bowing. “We accept, although we’re not worthy to stay under your roof.”

  “My servants will show you to your rooms now. Please let Shebna know if you need anything else.”

  The ambassador bowed and moved toward the door, then suddenly turned back. “If I may be so bold, Your Majesty, I would like to ask one small favor. King Merodach-Baladan wants to know which one of Judah’s gods granted your miraculous healing so that we can offer a sacrifice to that deity on his behalf.”

  A feeling of deep uneasiness crept over Hezekiah again at this reminder of the Babylonians’ idolatry. “My nation acknowledges and worships one God, not many. It will be time for the regular evening sacrifice at Yahweh’s Temple very shortly. If you wish, you may accompany my palace administrator to the Court of the Gentiles. He will explain the laws regarding sacrifices to you.”

  The Babylonian entourage had scarcely left the throne room when Shebna leaped from his seat in excitement. “Do you realize what an extraordinary opportunity this is, Your Majesty? They say they are asking only for your friendship, but with a little persuasion on our part it should be very easy to convince them to sign a formal treaty with us!”

  “They’re idol worshipers,” Eliakim said, gesturing to the golden box. “How can we sign an alliance with pagans?”

  Shebna waved him away irritably. “What difference does their religion make? We are not obligated to worship their gods. We want their military support.”

  “We don’t need their military support,” Eliakim said. “We can trust Yahweh—”

  “Maybe we do not need it at the moment, but if the new Assyrian emperor proves to be weaker than his father, then now would be the ideal time to take the offensive. With strong allies backing us, we could win back some of the farmland of the Jordan Valley.”

  Hezekiah sat back and listened in silence to the two men. He had grown used to their incessant arguing a long time ago and had even learned to appreciate it. They represented the two sides of himself: Shebna, the bold, analytical, problem-solving side; Eliakim, the more cautious side that weighed each decision according to Yahweh’s Law. Giving them freedom to argue and discuss issues helped Hezekiah reach balanced, thoughtful decisions.

  “Are you forgetting that Sennacherib commanded his father’s military forces?” Eliakim asked. “I don’t think he’ll hesitate to send his army into battle at the slightest hint of rebellion.”

  “Well, we were lucky the last time the Assyrians marched westward—”

  “It wasn’t luck, Shebna—it was God!”

  “If all the vassal nations united and rebelled at once, we could defeat the Assyrians.”

  “Never! Besides—we’re not a vassal nation.”

  “All the more reason to jump into the fight,” Shebna said. “We could lead the other nations. We have a trained military, fortified cities, a thriving economy. If we went to war, we could expand our territory and take back Galilee, maybe all of Israel.”

  “How can we take back Israel?” Eliakim asked. “It’s an Assyrian province! You saw how swiftly the Assyrians quenched the Philistine rebellion a few years ago. Rabbi Isaiah warned us to stay neutral, and it was good advice. We need to remain neutral now, too.”

  “This is different.”

  “No, Shebna. It’s exactly the same.”

  “Only cowards stay neutral, cowering behind the walls of their fortresses. Your Majesty, now is the time for you to step forward as a leader. Do you see all of this?” Shebna gestured to the gifts spread out on the carpet. “This proves that you have risen to a position of leadership and respect among the other nations. Babylon is paying you homage! We must take advantage of this opportunity, or we may never get another chance like it. We cannot stay neutral forever. We must take our rightful place as leader among the nations.”

  “No,” Eliakim insisted. “It’s too dangerous to sign a treaty with Babylon. Assyria is far from dead. An alliance with Babylon is a declaration of war against Assyria. Don’t risk it!”

  “You are wrong,” Shebna replied. “The Assyrian Empire is finished. They have not gone to war in several years. Besides, what if our neighboring nations successfully rebel against Assyria? If we refuse their friendship now, what will stop them from attacking us once they gain their freedom? We need to be allied with our neighbors—”

  “Our neighbors are too weak to help themselves, let alone help us! Listen—”

  “Enough.” Hezekiah held up his hand for silence. He had heard both sides, and now he needed to make a decision. He leaned back on his throne, stroking his beard. “I don’t like the idea of barricading ourselves behind Jerusalem’s walls while the nations around us carve up the world among themselves. If the Assyrian Empire is really crumbling, then I want my fair share of the spoils. I’ve already rebelled against Assyria by not sending tribute all these years, so I’m already allied to any other nation that rebels. Shebna is right. I want to be part of the rebellion, not a neutral nation for the victors to claim as spoil. Do you think we can persuade the Babylonian ambassador to sign a treaty of alliance with us?”

  “They are already honoring you and paying tribute to you,” Shebna said. “It should not be difficult to convince them to sign a formal agreement.”

  “Good.” Hezekiah lifted the heavy crown off his head and studied its glittering stones for a moment. “Let’s show them everything we have—our fortifications, our treasuries, the military garrisons. Let’s convince them that we’re a strong ally, worth having on their side. . . . What’s wrong, Eliakim? Why are you shaking your head?”

  “If you show them your strengths, you’re also revealing your weaknesses. Besides, I don’t think we should—”

  “How can it hurt to take them on a tour of our fortifications?” Shebna interrupted. “These men are diplomats and astrologers, not spies. They are our guests. They will hardly be taking notes.”

  “I agree,” Hezekiah said. “It can’t hurt. If they sign a treaty with us, it will strengthen our nation. We won’t have to be the only nation rebelling against Assyria.”

  Shebna’s eyes danced with excitement. “Your Majesty, it has long been my dream to forge an alliance of nations with you as the leader. Working together, this alliance could end the Assyrian threat for good.”

  Hezekiah looked at the engraved box full of gold and thought of the arsenal he could purchase with so much wealth. Shebna was right—this alliance with Babylon would be only the beginning. It could ensure his independence from Assyria forever. Maybe Yahweh had provided this opportunity in order for Judah to emerge as a leader among nations. Hezekiah felt poised on the brink of greatness and power.

  “Shebna, draft a proposal for a treaty of alliance with Babylon. We must convince them to sign it before they leave. And Eliakim, prepare an itinerary for our guests. Tomorrow I want you to give them a tour of our resources.”

  Eliakim didn’t try to hide his distress. “How much do you want me to show them, Your Majesty?”

  His reluctance irritated Hezekiah. He wanted bold, decisive men beside him, not overly cautious and conservative ones. This opportunity might never come again. “Show them everything! Your fortifications and defenses, the armory, my treasury. And show them your storehouses and the water tunnel, too. That should impress them.” Eliakim
nodded grimly. “But before you get started on that, I want you to go up to the Temple and talk to the high priest. Explain about our guests, and tell him he must preside over the evening sacrifice tonight. Tell him I want all the musicians to take part and as many priests as he can round up. Do it right away.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.” Eliakim skirted around the golden box and hurried from the throne room.

  As King Hezekiah stood on the royal dais at the Temple a short time later, he tried to watch the ceremony through his visitors’ eyes and to imagine what they would report to their king. He had heard descriptions of the immense Babylonian ziggurats that climbed to the heavens, and he knew that Yahweh’s Temple couldn’t compare with one of those. Nevertheless, the view from the top of God’s holy hill would take their breath away. Rolling green mountains embraced the city on all sides, and on a clear evening like tonight they might even glimpse the Dead Sea and the Judean wilderness many miles to the east. The setting sun glittered off the Temple’s golden roof, and everything seemed to sparkle and shine like new—the golden doors to the holy place, the bronze pillars Jakin and Boaz, the shimmering water in the brazen laver, the priests’ silver trumpets. Even the priests’ garments looked whiter than Hezekiah had ever seen them, and the precious stones in the high priest’s ephod gleamed impressively. As Hezekiah had requested, a full antiphonal choir of Levite singers and musicians filled the packed courtyards with magnificent praise.

  Hezekiah preferred the Temple’s clean lines and simple, unadorned beauty to the gaudy embellishments of idolatry. He imagined Shebna explaining its symbolism to his guests, and he beamed with pride. He remembered what the Temple had looked like when he’d inherited the nation from Ahaz—the gold pried off the doors, the bronze laver standing lopsided, the altar shoved askew to make room for idolatry—and he felt tremendous satisfaction at all he had accomplished. He’d restored Yahweh’s Temple to its original splendor—perhaps he’d made it even more magnificent than in Solomon’s day—and as Hezekiah looked around, it seemed every bit as impressive as a mud-brick Babylonian ziggurat.

  Later that night he recalled his many accomplishments once again as he sat down to a lavish dinner with his guests. Torches in the palace banquet room blazed with light, and the sound of lively music filled the air along with the smell of rich food and roasting meat. He remembered his coronation banquet and felt satisfied, for now his nation prospered, and Hezekiah could eat off the fat of the land, not the backs of his people.

  “I must tell you, Your Majesty,” the ambassador said, leaning close, “the offering to your gods—pardon me, your god—was absolutely magnificent! As was your Temple!”

  “Thank you. Did Shebna tell you that my ancestors built it more than three hundred years ago?”

  “Yes, and it’s the envy of many nations, I assure you. The talent and skill of your Temple musicians is also well known in Babylon, but truly the half hasn’t been told! I would steal them away from you and transport the entire ensemble back to my own land if I could.” He laughed heartily. “Shebna tells me that only the men from one tribe of your people may serve as priests.”

  “Yes, the tribe of Levi. The Temple musicians must also be descendants of Levi.”

  “I will never forget that magnificent music as long as I live! Such talent to be concentrated in one family line!”

  Hezekiah smiled at the lavish praise. “In fact, Ambassador, I’m related to the tribe of Levi myself,” he said. “My father was a descendant of the royal house of David from the tribe of Judah, but my mother was from the tribe of Levi. Her father was a Levite musician.”

  Hezekiah knew that his grandfather would be proud of him. Zechariah had predicted that one day he would accomplish great things as king of his nation, and these envoys from Babylon certainly confirmed the fulfillment of that vision. A Judean king hadn’t been honored like this since the golden age of Solomon.

  “I can’t help wondering, Your Majesty, are the grapes for this marvelous wine we’re drinking grown here in Judah?” the ambassador asked.

  “Yes. Do you like it?”

  “It’s better than the wine served in our king’s palace, isn’t it?” He turned to his deputy, seated beside him.

  “I have never had better!” the young man said.

  The Babylonians’ smooth faces glowed with pleasure, but they still looked strange to Hezekiah, seated among the thickly bearded men of his nation. For the first time he noticed how out-of-place Shebna looked, even though the Egyptian had been beardless for as long as Hezekiah had known him.

  “If I could meet with your trade minister before I leave,” the deputy said, “perhaps I could persuade him to export some of this wine to my country.”

  “My secretary of state will see to it,” Hezekiah replied, nodding at Eliakim.

  The dinner was an enormous success, and Hezekiah felt proud of the excellent impression he had made on his visitors. But during a pause in the conversation he overheard the deputy ambassador talking to Eliakim.

  “Those beautiful women seated over there—are they King Hezekiah’s harem?” The deputy gestured to the women’s table across the room, where the wives of Judah’s leading officials and nobles were seated. Eliakim’s wife and Shebna’s concubine sat among them, but Hephzibah’s place at the head of the table was vacant.

  In an instant, a towering wall of grief collapsed on Hezekiah, leaving him stunned and broken. He had managed to push his loss aside during the excitement of the day, but it had taken only the slightest reminder of Hephzibah to bring his sorrow crashing down on him with an intensity that devastated him. When would it go away? When would he be able to forget what she had done?

  “No, they are the women of the court, not the king’s harem,” Eliakim answered quietly. “Would you like some more wine, Lord Deputy?”

  For a painful moment, Hezekiah imagined Hephzibah sitting in her place at the head of the women’s table. Her extraordinary beauty and elegance would cause the Babylonians to stare, as most men did when they saw her. He remembered how he would catch Hephzibah’s eye across the room on nights like this, and their deep love for each other would pass between them without words. She could convey so much with her smile, her eyes, the tilt of her head, and she would flirt with him shamelessly, tantalizing him until he could scarcely stand to be separated from her. Later, when he finally held her in his arms as he had longed to do all evening, they would laugh as they shared all the things they hadn’t been able to say to each other.

  But tonight Hephzibah’s place was empty, and he felt a gnawing, helpless anger at her for destroying the love they had once shared, anger at having to return to his rooms alone, his arms aching and empty. He turned away from the women’s table, vowing not to look that way again.

  “Tomorrow I want to take your delegation on a tour of my palace and armory,” Hezekiah said to the ambassador. “I want to show you how I’ve fortified Jerusalem against the Assyrians.”

  The ambassador bowed his head deeply. “It would be a great honor, Your Majesty.”

  12

  “Magnificent! Absolutely magnificent,” the ambassador said. He stood inside the armory with Hezekiah, gazing at row after row of polished swords and shields and spears. The armory beneath the guard tower was cool and quiet after the heat of the day and the bustle of activity they had observed from the city wall above them.

  “This is only a small portion of my weaponry,” Hezekiah told him. “I’ve built many fortified cites throughout my nation, each one garrisoned and well-stocked with food supplies and weapons just like these.”

  “Most impressive! Jerusalem is quite a fortress, Your Majesty. No wonder you alone of all the nations have dared to shake off Assyria’s yoke. I bow to you.”

  Hezekiah exchanged glances with Shebna as the ambassador and his entourage of servants bowed to him once again. Excitement pulsed through him. He had seen the respect in the Babylonians’ eyes as they had surveyed the thick double walls around the new city and listened to Eliak
im explain how he had built them with rubble from the tunnel. He’d heard the Babylonians gasp when he led them inside the new storage buildings and they saw pyramids of jars bearing his seal, filled with grain, oil, and wine. They had been silently awestruck by his treasure house beneath the palace and the stacks of pure gold, shining white silver, and precious stones that he’d accumulated, filling the rooms that he’d inherited empty. The tour had reminded Hezekiah once again of all that he’d accomplished since his father’s death and of how he’d brought his nation from the edge of poverty to renewed prosperity.

  “Your Majesty, you are a magnificent example to all the nations, the first king to rebel successfully. The omen we saw in the sky did more than announce your healing. It confirmed your leadership as one who is favored by the gods. Our king longs to gain his freedom from Assyria as you have done. Perhaps someday you might help us, but in the meantime we look to you with honor and respect.”

  Hezekiah saw the opportunity he had waited for all morning. He casually folded his arms across his chest, holding back his mounting excitement. “Do you have the authority to speak for King Merodach-Baladan?” he asked.

  “In most matters, yes.”

  “Then let me ask you this, Ambassador—how badly would your king like his freedom? Badly enough to sign a treaty with his neighboring nations and risk a rebellion?”

  Nebo-Polassar appeared worried as he considered the question for a moment. “We would dare to take such a risk only if a stronger nation such as yours were to lead that rebellion.”

  Hezekiah glanced at Shebna. “Then if I assumed leadership and proposed a treaty, would you be willing to sign it on behalf of King Merodach-Baladan and Babylon?”

  The ambassador’s eyes grew wide with surprise. “You would be willing to accept us as your allies, Your Majesty?”