by Lynn Austin
When the night guards trooped into the throne room, Manasseh was immediately suspicious of them. Where did their loyalties lie? Were some of them part of this conspiracy, too? The only way he would ever know was to issue an order and see how they responded.
“I’m sorry to say that I’ve uncovered an elaborate conspiracy tonight,” he told them. “Two men who I thought were my friends—Rabbi Isaiah and Lord Eliakim—have turned out to be my enemies.” He paused to let them digest this information before continuing. “I know it may seem hard to believe, but tonight they proved it with their actions. They will be given a fair trial, of course, but in the meantime I want half of you to search Rabbi Isaiah’s house for evidence. Bring me every document you find, and make sure you search for hiding places, as well. I want the rest of you to go to Eliakim’s house and do the same thing. Bring all the documents to me.”
Manasseh had to pause to regain his composure. His stomach churned as he considered the final step. It was difficult enough to believe that Eliakim was involved—but surely not his son Joshua, not Manasseh’s trusted friend since childhood. For the second time that night he remembered the blind woman’s prophecy: “He’s not your friend . . . he’s your enemy.”
“Eliakim has a son named Joshua. Arrest him and bring him to me. Remember, all of these men are traitors to the kingdom. Treat anyone who tries to help them as my enemy, as well.”
2
“So, my child, they left you behind to baby-sit your old grandfather, eh?” Hilkiah’s round, wrinkled face beamed mischievously.
“Oh, Grandpa, you know that’s not true.” Dinah plumped the pillows behind her grandfather’s head and tucked the blankets around him. Hilkiah’s bed had been moved to Eliakim’s old workroom on the main floor. Now that he was in his eighties, it had become too difficult for Hilkiah to climb the stairs.
“No? Then why is such a pretty young girl like you staying home with an old man like me? Where are all your suitors?”
“I don’t have any suitors yet, Grandpa.”
He chuckled merrily. “Oh yes, you do. You have dozens of them, but they’re all afraid to approach your father—the king’s mighty palace administrator—and ask for your hand.” His voice was serious, but his eyes twinkled in the lamplight. Dinah sat on the bed beside him and hugged him.
“You’re teasing me, Grandpa.”
“No, I’m not. Your suitors troop in and out of my shop every day just to ask about you. They know I’m your grandfather, you see, and they think I’m less fearsome than Eliakim. Ask your brother Jerimoth. He’ll tell you the same thing. Your suitors have tried to talk to him about you, too, but he gets annoyed with them. He tells them they’re wasting his time. He’s there to sell cloth, after all, not serve as a matchmaker.”
“I can’t ask Jerimoth because he’s not home. He went to Heshbon with your caravan, remember?”
“That’s right. And where did everyone else disappear to tonight? I suppose your father is still at the palace.”
“No, he went to see Rabbi Isaiah.”
“And your mother is with your sister in Anathoth. Still no word about Tirza’s baby?”
She shook her head. “They promised to send a messenger as soon as the baby is born. I hope they don’t forget.”
“My little Tirza . . . a mother,” Hilkiah said with a sigh. “I can’t believe it. Only yesterday I was bouncing her on my knee out in the garden. Wouldn’t you much rather be with your sister when her first baby is born instead of sitting around here with your old grandfather?”
“Mama wouldn’t let me go. She’s afraid if I see what childbirth is like I’ll never want to get married.”
Hilkiah laughed. “Jerusha is a very wise woman.”
“I won’t have to worry about babies if Abba never lets me get married.” She took Hilkiah’s plump hand in both of hers and held it to her cheek, feeling the soft texture of his skin, loving every wrinkle and age spot.
“You’re his youngest, Dinah. His baby. It’s hard for Eliakim to let you go. But once he gets young Joshua settled down, your day will soon follow. You’re only eighteen, after all. Hardly an old maid.”
“But Joshua wants to marry my best friend, Yael, and she’s a few months younger than I am.”
“Is that where he disappeared to tonight?”
“Yes. If he keeps eating dinner with them, Yael’s father won’t have any money left for the wedding.”
Hilkiah laughed. “I daresay your brother is love struck. But that’s nothing compared to the way your father was. You never saw a man more in love than Eliakim.”
Dinah knew what was coming. She had heard the story countless times but never grew tired of it. It was fun to imagine Abba acting silly with love for her mother. And it was so romantic to dream about a suitor loving her that much.
“Your father used to be handsome, you know, before his hair grew thin on top and his beard turned gray. Your brother Joshua reminds me a lot of him at that age, with his unruly black hair and mournful eyes. He’s tall like your father, but Joshua is even thinner than Eliakim was, if that’s possible. And, of course, your mother was such a beauty. Who could blame him for being smitten with her? But I daresay you’re even more beautiful than your mother, Dinah.”
“You’re just saying that to cheer me up.”
“No, no, my child. You know I don’t lie. You’re so slender and delicate, like fine porcelain. And that perfect face . . .” He held it in his hands as if he were appraising a precious jewel. “No wonder the suitors are lining up. One look into those dark eyes of yours and they’re lost. No, your father won’t give you away to just any man. Only—” Loud pounding on the front door interrupted him.
“The messenger!” Dinah cried. “Tirza’s baby!” She jumped up and ran to answer it before the servants did.
“It’s going to be a boy,” Hilkiah called after her.
But when she opened it, a dozen palace guards stood outside. Before Dinah could speak, the guards pushed past her and forced their way into the house.
“If you’re looking for my father, Lord Eliakim, he—”
“We want his son Joshua,” the captain said. “Is he here?”
“Why do you want Joshua?”
The captain gripped Dinah’s arms and forced her to sit on the bench by the door. “If you stay here and keep quiet, nothing will happen to you, girl.” Then he nodded to his men. “Search the house.”
They spread out in all directions—upstairs, down the hall into the living areas, into the kitchen and servants’ quarters, out into the courtyard, and into her grandfather’s bedroom. It sounded as if they were tossing the house upside down, searching it. She heard Hilkiah’s startled voice in the next room.
“Who are you? What are you doing in here?” A moment later a soldier dragged him into the hallway in his nightclothes and stood him in front of the captain. Dinah jumped to her feet.
“Leave my grandfather alone!”
“Hush, Dinah. I’m all right.” Hilkiah nodded for her to sit down again, then turned to the captain. “Why don’t you tell us what you’re looking for, and then you can be on your way?”
“We’re only interested in Joshua ben Eliakim.”
“My grandson? Why?”
“If you tell me where he is, you’ll be free to go.”
“What’s wrong? Has something happened?”
“Do you know where he is or not, old man?”
Dinah knew her grandfather wouldn’t lie. It was her fault for placing him in this dilemma. She had told Hilkiah where Joshua was.
“My brother is King Manasseh’s best friend!” she cried. “He’ll execute all of you when he finds out about this!”
The captain ignored her. “Are you going to tell us, old man?”
“Not unless you give me some more information than—”
“Hold him.” One of the soldiers seized Hilkiah from behind and pinned his arms behind his back. The captain untied the small wooden club strapped to his belt and ramm
ed it into Hilkiah’s stomach. Dinah screamed. She threw herself in front of the captain to shield her grandfather.
“No! Stop! Don’t hurt him!”
The captain flung Dinah aside. “Someone come in here and hold this girl,” he called. Another soldier ran in from the living room and grabbed Dinah, clamping his hand over her mouth. She struggled in vain to free herself.
“Now tell me where your grandson is.”
“No . . .” Hilkiah moaned.
“Come on, old man. You’re wasting my time.”
Dinah watched in horror as the captain clubbed her grandfather again and again. Please, God! Make them stop! Hilkiah doubled over, groaning helplessly.
“This is your last chance,” the captain warned. When Hilkiah didn’t answer, the captain bludgeoned him in the head until blood poured down his face. The soldier holding Hilkiah let go, and he slumped to the floor.
“Can you still hear me, old man?” the captain asked. Hilkiah curled into a ball, moaning in agony.
“Maybe this girl knows something,” the soldier holding Dinah said. The captain turned to her.
“Do you want to watch your grandfather die?” He gave Hilkiah a vicious kick. “I’m going to ask you the same question I asked him. Where’s Joshua ben Eliakim?”
Dinah had no qualms about telling a lie to save her grandfather’s life. She waited until the soldier eased his hand off her mouth. “He’s at the palace with King Manasseh.”
“No, he’s not,” the captain said. “And this is what will happen every time you lie to me.” He crouched beside Hilkiah and lifted his head, then smashed it against the stone floor, again and again.
“Stop!” Dinah screamed. The soldier quickly covered her mouth. She felt her legs buckle beneath her, but the guard held her suspended in the air, her legs dangling uselessly. She was going to vomit all over his hand. Dear God, where was Abba? Where were all the servants? Why didn’t somebody help them?
Her grandfather lay sprawled on the floor, unmoving. A dark puddle of blood slowly spread beneath his head. His robes were askew with his tunic bunched up around his knees, and his bare legs looked pale and shriveled. Dinah moved instinctively to cover him, to tuck his robes around him so he would be warm, but the soldier held her tightly in his grasp.
“I’ll kill you next, girl. Where is your brother?”
She felt the hand uncover her mouth. “Help me!” she screamed. The captain grabbed her throat with both hands and choked off her cries. He squeezed tighter and tighter until Dinah’s lungs felt as if they would burst. She felt the pressure building in her head. Her vision turned gray, then faded to black. She writhed in the soldier’s arms as the terror of suffocation overwhelmed her. One second before she would have fainted, the captain loosened his death grip. Dinah drew a deep, gasping breath.
“This is your last chance,” he told her. “Next time you die. Where is he?”
Dinah couldn’t think. Who were these murderers? Why did they want Joshua? If she didn’t tell them where he was, she would die. But if she told them, Joshua would probably die. They meant to kill all of them.
Hilkiah uttered a faint groan, and the captain turned and kicked him again. They were waiting for her answer. But Dinah couldn’t remember any words or how to string them together into sentences. She tried to talk, but all that came out was a babbling moan of terror.
Her killer’s hands circled around her throat again and squeezed. She couldn’t breathe. His fingers were crushing her windpipe. Time slowed as stars of light exploded, then swam through her tears. In the eternity before the world went black, Dinah knew she was going to die.
“God of Abraham, what is going on? This can’t be happening.” Eliakim tried to pace, but the prison cell was too small. He could take only three steps before he had to turn and walk back again. The stone floor was rough and uneven beneath his feet.
The jail was little more than a crude hole, carved in the bedrock beneath the palace, with an iron door bolted across the opening. It smelled damp and musty, like ancient tombs and decaying bones. With no windows and no lamps or torches, it was blacker than a moonless night. It reminded Eliakim of the Siloam tunnel, and he tried not to panic at the thought of being buried alive. He couldn’t see Isaiah, but he knew that the prophet sat on the floor, just a few feet away. The thought comforted him.
“This can’t be happening,” he said again. He had repeated the phrase a dozen times in the long hour since Manasseh had imprisoned them.
“Eliakim,” Isaiah said with a sigh, “why don’t you sit down. It’s going to be a while until morning.”
“I’m sorry, Rabbi, but it’s all so crazy! What on earth is going on? What is King Manasseh thinking? How long is this temper fit of his going to last? He won’t keep us down here all night, will he?”
“Are you asking me to tell the future, too?”
Eliakim heard the irony in Isaiah’s voice and smiled in spite of himself. “Well, it would be nice to know what’s going to happen next, Rabbi.”
“God alone knows. We’ll have to rest in Him. Come, Eliakim. Sit down.”
He stumbled toward Isaiah’s voice, his hands outstretched in the darkness. He found the opposite wall and felt his way down to the floor, sitting for the first time since the soldiers put him in the cell.
“Not very comfortable, is it?” Isaiah said.
“No. Are you warm enough, Rabbi? It’s freezing in here.”
“I’ll be fine.”
Eliakim folded his arms and tucked his hands in his armpits to warm them. “Now what?”
“Now we wait.”
“I want to believe that this is all a terrible mistake. That Manasseh will listen to reason in the morning, but—”
“I know. Uncertainty is the enemy of our faith.” Isaiah heaved a deep sigh. “‘In that day I will summon my servant, Eliakim son of Hilkiah. . . . He will be a father to those who live in Jerusalem and to the house of Judah. I will place on his shoulder the key to the house of David. . . . I will drive him like a peg into a firm place.’ Do you remember when I told you that?”
“How could I ever forget it?” Eliakim said softly.
“There was more,” Isaiah said. “I never told you all of it. I’m sorry.”
Eliakim waited for what seemed a very long time. He didn’t know why, but his heart had began to pound. When Isaiah finally spoke, his voice sounded hoarse.
“‘“In that day,” declares the Lord Almighty, “the peg driven into the firm place will give way; it will be sheared off and will fall, and the load hanging on it will be cut down.” The Lord has spoken.’” Isaiah’s robes rustled, and Eliakim knew the rabbi was wiping away tears.
Eliakim struggled to comprehend the words of the prophecy: they meant he would fall from power. Is that what was happening to him? Had Isaiah known this day would come? Eliakim groped in the darkness for Isaiah’s shoulder and rested his hand on it.
“I’m glad you never told me, Rabbi, but thank you for telling me now.”
“The Lord showed me so much for King Jotham, King Ahaz, King Hezekiah. But Yahweh has shown me nothing of King Manasseh’s reign, and I don’t know why.”
“Can’t we do what Manasseh asked? Can’t we pray and ask God to give us something to appease him? Maybe He’ll show us His plan for Manasseh.”
“I think this is His plan.”
“You mean, to be falsely accused and imprisoned? But why?”
“I don’t know. If it’s His will to save us, then God will show me what Manasseh wants to know. If not . . .”
Eliakim groaned. “I’ve been trying to think back over the past few days, to remember something that might have happened to set Manasseh off like this, but I can’t think of anything that’s relevant. I stood beside him at the Temple this morning and again tonight. He held court today as usual. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. I went home for dinner to see if there was any word on my daughter’s baby and—”
“So you’re going to be a grandfather, Eli
akim?”
“I already am.” Eliakim knew that Isaiah was trying to distract his thoughts to help pass the time, and he decided to play along. “My older son, Jerimoth, and his wife have a baby girl. My daughter Tirza is married to a priest, so of course she’s hoping for a son, and—”
Eliakim heard footsteps descending the stairs. The cell gradually began to grow lighter as the torches drew near. He sprang to his feet. “Oh, thank God!” He helped Isaiah to his feet, and they felt their way toward the cell door as three soldiers came into view. The one in front carried a torch, while the other two carried what looked like a heavy sack between them. Probably some bedding. That meant he and Isaiah would be left down here all night.
“Stand back!” the first soldier shouted. “Turn around and face the wall with your hands over your heads.”
As they obeyed, Eliakim glanced at Isaiah’s face. He looked calm, but his eyes were tired, his face ashen. His robes were covered with rotting debris from the cell floor. Eliakim heard the soldiers struggle with the heavy beam barring the door, and then he heard the hollow squeal of rusty metal as the door swung open. There was a soft thud as the sack fell to the floor; then the door groaned shut again and the bar slammed into place. Eliakim quickly turned around to examine the bundle before the light disappeared again. But the mound wasn’t a sack of bedding straw. It was his father.
“Abba! God of Abraham, no! It’s Abba!”
Eliakim sank to the floor and lifted his father into his arms, cradling him. Hilkiah moaned softly. Isaiah crouched beside them. Then the light was gone again, the cell as dark as pitch. Eliakim felt his father’s face with his fingertips; it was swollen and sticky with blood. Eliakim didn’t want to believe that Manasseh would involve Hilkiah in this nightmare.