Isaiah's Daughter

by Mesu Andrews

  His wife’s embrace both startled and pleased him. “I tried to let you sleep.”

  “I’d sleep better without Assyrians sleeping next to us.” She peeked around him to see the valley. “The Rabshakeh’s troops are still gone. That’s good.”

  “Mm-hmm, but are they coming back?” he said over his shoulder.

  She remained silent and held him tighter.

  “I’ve called a council meeting this morning. We’ll find out if Commander Jokim has heard any new developments.”

  She kissed his back. Still no words. She’d been especially quiet since they returned from her parents’ home yesterday afternoon.

  He turned into her embrace and tipped up her chin. “I love you, Hephzibah bat Isaiah. Are you going to tell me what’s weighing so heavily on your heart?” He grinned. “I mean besides the Assyrians outside our gates.”

  She rewarded him with a grin of her own. “I love you too, Hezekiah, son of David, king of Judah.” She laid her head on his chest. “I want to say something, but I don’t want it to sound prideful or judgmental.”

  This from the girl who—when they were children—taunted him each time she won a game, race, or debate. “Say it, my love. I know your heart.”

  “My year of studying Abba’s prophecies while in the seclusion of the harem gave me the strength I’ve needed to hold tightly to Yahweh.” She looked up then. “I know you were frustrated when Abba told you to take your questions about his prophecies directly to Yahweh. But, Hezi, when I spent time copying Abba’s scrolls—really studying them—I understood God’s words in a new way.”

  He began shaking his head before she finished. “I don’t have a year to hide away in the harem, Zibah.”

  “I know, my love. I’m simply saying perhaps we could spend more time in the evenings, reading and studying the sacred writings—the Law, David’s psalms, Solomon’s wisdom and poetry, and all the prophets. You’ll become familiar with how Yahweh’s voice echoed in the hearts of others, and perhaps that same echo will become discernable in your own.”

  A ram’s horn sounded from every parapet on palace grounds, announcing the morning’s council meeting. Zibah started to walk away, but Hezi caught her hand and pulled her back. “Thank you,” he said, cupping her cheeks. “Your suggestion is a wise one. I’ll begin reading the texts tonight after our evening meal.” He kissed her forehead and then lingered at her lips.

  She pulled away, grinning. “We must have no more of that, or we’ll miss our meeting.”

  Both Hezi and Zibah dressed quickly, forgoing their normal morning routine. Samuel escorted them through the private entry into the courtroom, where counselors trudged into their seats in the gallery. They looked as rumpled as Hezi felt.

  Without fanfare or even Shebna’s statistics, Hezi addressed the sole reason for the meeting. “Commander, have we any information on the Rabshakeh’s retreat?”

  The big man stood, holding a bloody sackcloth bag. “We have very little information because of this.” He emptied six dead carrier pigeons on the pristine tiled floor. Zibah covered a gasp and turned away.

  “Get those pigeons out of here!” Hezi shouted. Two guards rushed from the back of the room to gather the dead birds.

  The commander glanced from the king to the unsettled queen, his face a mask of confusion. “I’m sorry. I don’t…I didn’t know…They’re just birds.”

  Hezi leaned over, touching Zibah’s shoulder and whispering, “Are you all right? Do you need to return to the chamber?”

  She shook her head. Samuel stepped from beside Hezi’s right shoulder and offered Zibah a clean cloth from his belt. “Here, my queen. Wipe your eyes. The birds are gone now.”

  Zibah thanked him with a forced smile and took the scrap of fabric. After wiping her eyes, she sat straighter on her throne and addressed the commander. “Forgive me, Jokim. I have a tender spot for doves, and pigeons look far too similar.” Her chin quivered, and she paused to rein in her emotions. “I know you meant no harm. Please continue with your report.”

  The commander’s gruff exterior softened. “Again, my queen, I apologize.” He bowed and then turned his attention to Hezi. “The only city left to send messenger pigeons would be Lachish. Assyrian archers shoot them down, steal the messages, and then hoist the dead birds onto our wall. More of their mind games—and it’s working. We must discover our enemy’s plan, my king. Without information, we can’t prepare a battle strategy.”

  “What if we had a spy?” Hezi leaned forward. “Someone who could slip out of Jerusalem undetected, cross the western mountains, and report on the Rabshakeh’s troops.”

  Judah’s top soldier offered a cynical grin. “While we’re asking for the impossible, I’d like a week to enjoy the springs of En Gedi.” His smile died. “No one can evade the Assyrians. It would be suicide to ask one of my men—”

  “I won’t ask one of your men.” Hezi’s boldness silenced the room and startled Zibah.

  She clenched the tear-soaked cloth in her fist. “Who then?”

  Hezi turned slowly to meet her gaze. “You and two other men evaded Abba Ahaz’s soldiers while hiding the prophets for many years. I would require only your brother’s service.”

  “No, Hezi.” Zibah had begun shaking her head before he finished. “Not Jashub.”

  “Jashub ben Isaiah?” Jokim seemed as doubtful as Zibah. “He’s a scribe, my king.”

  “I’m aware.” Hezekiah took a calming breath. “Years ago, when my regiment was camped at Ziph, Isaiah’s eldest son snuck into my camp and out again—past my best sentries—completely undetected. He may be the only man in Jerusalem who can do this. If any of you have a better idea…” He shifted his stare to his wife.

  Zibah pressed her lips together, and the general resumed his place among his peers.

  “It’s settled then.” Hezi spoke over his shoulder to Samuel. “Send two of your men to summon Jashub to the palace.” He leaned close to his wife. “I’ll give him the choice to serve Judah or not. I won’t force him.”

  “That’s not a choice, Hezi. You know he won’t refuse. He loves you, he loves Judah, and he’ll trust Yahweh to protect him.”

  He raised one eyebrow. “Isn’t that why we all serve, my love?”

  54

  When the field commander heard that the king of Assyria had left Lachish, he withdrew and found the king fighting against Libnah.

  —2 Kings 19:8

  Four days had passed since Jashub left Jerusalem. Yaira had gone to Isaiah’s house to say good-bye and was the last one to see Jashub’s face as he lowered himself into the tunnels through the wine cellar. He would continue through the tunnels to the caves in the western hills of the Judean wilderness and from there follow the very obvious path left by thousands of Assyrian horses.

  Hezi knew the dangers of the Judean Mountains. He’d crossed them numerous times on his campaigns against the Philistines. Jashub would face wild animals, the terrain itself, and, of course, the Assyrians. But Hezi faced danger at home that increased each day Jashub was gone—Yaira was angrier than he’d ever seen her. She served their meals, transferred Zibah’s to the table, but left Hezi’s on the tray and exited the room. “Is it safe to eat?” he asked Zibah this morning. “Is she angry enough to poison me?” Zibah rolled her eyes as if he were kidding.

  “I saw them together at your parents’ house, but I didn’t realize Yaira would be so upset by Jashub’s absence.” He shrugged and popped a grape in his mouth. “How serious can their relationship be if there’s no betrothal?”

  Zibah looked at him as if he were a two-headed cow. “How can you be wise in so many things and so…” She let Hezi fill in the rest. “Jashub asked to marry Yaira when they were very young. She refused, believing herself beneath his station in Judean society.”

  “Did she love him?”

  Zibah nodded. “And he loved her, but because she wouldn’t have him, he married Hallel and was faithful to her. In the end Jashub loved both women but built his lif
e with Hallel.”

  Hezi remembered the day Hallel died in childbirth. “How old are Jashub’s children?” He felt a measure of guilt that he hadn’t paid closer attention to Zibah’s family.

  “Jashub’s oldest daughter, Michal, was married four years ago and now has a child of her own. My brother’s son, Jacob, is in military training.” Zibah offered a piece of bread smeared with date paste. “Ellah, the girl we met when we visited Abba and Ima last week, was born in Hallel’s later years. Hallel died only a year after Ellah was born, trying to deliver their fourth child, who never opened his eyes in this world.”

  Zibah’s gaze grew distant, and her finger idly drew circles on the table. Hezi set aside his plate, scooted closer to his wife, and reclined her against his chest. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?” he whispered.

  Samuel burst through the chamber door. “He’s back!” Taking note of their intimate pose, he halted and bowed. “Forgive me. Jashub has returned and is waiting in court with his report.”

  Shofars blew, punctuating Samuel’s announcement, calling the advisors to the palace.

  Hezi rose to his feet and helped Zibah do the same. “Thank you, Samuel. We’ll meet you in the hall.” Before leaving, Zibah knocked on Yaira’s door and whispered the news. A subdued squeal made Hezi’s heart lighter—and made more sense now that he knew of Yaira and Jashub’s history.

  The king and queen arrived in the courtroom as the advisors filed in. Jashub sat on the bottom step of the dais, covered in days of travel dust. He rose and bowed when he saw Hezi and Zibah.

  She hugged him like a little sister would and then inspected his arms and legs to confirm he was unharmed. “Are you all right? Have you seen Abba yet? He was worried. He sent a messenger every day asking if I’d heard from you.”

  Jashub chuckled and hugged her again. “I’m fine, and no I haven’t seen Abba and Ima yet. I’ll go first to see Michal. She’s kept Jacob while I’ve been gone. Then I’ll visit Ima to take Ellah home.” He stared at Hezi over Zibah’s head. “Unless the king needs further service from me.”

  Zibah released him and cast a pleading glance at her husband. “I’m sure the king will let you return to your duties as the assistant chief scribe.”

  Hezi’s crown weighed heavier on some days than others. Today it felt like a boulder. “I must hear Jashub’s report before we’ll know if his service is ended.”

  His wife’s brows furrowed, but Jashub bowed humbly. “As you wish, my king. I’m honored to serve.”

  Zibah hurried to her throne, and advisors from all over the Upper City began arriving to take their places in the gallery. Shebna was the last of the fifteen men to arrive, and Hezi called the meeting to order.

  “Jashub, we’re anxious to hear your report,” Hezi coaxed. “Please, speak freely.”

  Isaiah’s eldest glanced at the royal advisors and expelled a shaky sigh. He was a scribe, not a public speaker. “I suspect the Rabshakeh is the most honored of King Sennacherib’s three generals because his was the only regiment the king summoned for reinforcements. I followed the Rabshakeh’s forces to Libnah three days ago, where the Egyptians and King Sennacherib’s troops were already engaged in heavy fighting. I remained hidden in the mountains to assess the overall battle in the coastal plain.”

  Commander Jokim stood. “But King Sennacherib’s troops are besieging Lachish.”

  Jashub bowed respectfully. “I beg your pardon, Commander, not anymore. It would seem Egypt has drawn the Assyrian king away from Lachish. And King Sennacherib summoned the Rabshakeh away from Jerusalem.” He turned to the king and bowed. “Egypt appears to be honoring their treaty with Judah, my king. May Yahweh be praised for your wisdom.”

  The courtroom erupted into applause, and Hezi felt his cheeks flame. Yahweh had not held Hezi’s sin against him, and He had honored the intention of Hezi’s heart above his stupid mistakes. Thank You, Yahweh! Thank You! While the room celebrated, Jashub lifted a tentative hand, requesting permission to continue speaking.

  “Quiet! Quiet!” Hezi shouted. “Jashub, you have more to report?”

  “I do. It’s a strange happening that I fear you may struggle to believe—as I did, even though I saw it with my own eyes.” He glanced at his sister. “Zibah, have you ever known me to lie?”

  It was an odd question and a strange time to ask it. “No, Jashub,” Zibah replied. “You wouldn’t be the king’s second scribe if you were prone to dishonesty.”

  Jashub turned to the council. “From my mountain perch, I witnessed Assyria soundly defeated both yesterday and the day before—but not by Egyptians. Upon my honor…they were defeated by rats.”

  The room fell silent. Jashub scratched his brow and seemed hesitant to explain. “I’ve never seen anything like it. On both mornings, Assyrian soldiers flooded from their tents shouting and cursing as furry creatures scurried between their feet. The Assyrians held chewed breastplates, bows, and shields. Every leather weapon was fodder for the rats. The Egyptians attacked soon after, forcing the Assyrians to fight with stones and sticks. Egypt drove them back, and now they’re retreating to Lachish.”

  “Lachish?” The commander glanced at Hezi. “Their disciplined troops can make the hike to Lachish within three days. And if they were defeated as Jashub has described, they’ll return to that city with fury.”

  Hezi felt the knot in his stomach draw tighter. “Is the Rabshakeh headed back to Jerusalem?”

  Jashub shrugged. “I’m sorry, my king, but I don’t know. It appeared that all the Assyrians were moving toward Lachish, but I didn’t get close enough to hear the Rabshakeh’s commands. I’m sorry if I failed you.”

  The advisors began voicing their concerns and questions in a jumble of panic, but Hezi left his throne, eyes focused on Jashub alone. Placing both hands on Jashub’s shoulders, he said, “You gave us much-needed information. We know that Yahweh worked for us in Libnah—without weapons or loss of Judean lives. He’s using the Egyptians as well as rats to defeat our enemy.” The advisors fell silent. “If you’d drawn closer to hear the Rabshakeh, you might have been captured, and we would never have known this information. You are relieved of duty, Jashub, not because you’ve failed but because you’ve done well. Thank you.”

  Eliakim stood and bowed to Jashub as he took his first step toward home. Others followed suit as he made his way up the center aisle. Hezi turned to wink at Zibah and was rewarded when she mouthed, Thank you. Her tears were proof he’d sufficiently honored her brave brother.

  As Jashub exited court, the double doors opened wide, and two royal guards appeared with an Assyrian messenger between them.

  “This vermin brings a message from his king.” One of the guards shoved the courier down the aisle. The man fell to his knees and struggled back to his feet.

  Walking between the guards, the Assyrian looked almost feeble, hunched and shivering with dark circles under his eyes. The man lifted a leather-bound scroll and Hezi approached him to receive it. “King Sennacherib would rather fight your God than the Egyptian gods that send rats to eat our weapons.”

  Hezi grabbed the scroll. “Egyptian gods are wood and stone. Our God is the Maker of heaven and earth.” Suddenly aware of something crawling up his arm, Hezi looked down at the scroll and saw a half-dozen fleas. He inspected the messenger and found him infested. “Get him out of here!”

  The guards lifted the Assyrian and shoved him toward the exit with their spear shafts, now keeping their distance.

  A shiver worked up Hezi’s spine. It felt as though bugs were crawling all over him. He felt the first bite on his wrist, then his leg. Growling, he caught one of the insects between his fingers and squeezed. He began to panic when it survived the squishing. “How do you kill these things?”

  Shebna stood in the council gallery. “In Egypt, they wash their clothes in a solution of natron and water, and if the infestation spreads to their homes, they sprinkle the natron solution around the house as well.” He reached up and scratched his ch
eek. “As I’m sure the king is aware—natron is only found in Egypt.”

  “Do we have any remaining natron from Egyptian gifts?” Hezi said, and then slapped at another flea.

  Hilkiah jumped to his feet. “I’ll check the treasury records.” He rushed out the side entry, and the whole council looked as if they wanted to follow.

  Still holding the offending scroll, Hezi dropped it to the floor and unrolled it with his toe. He saw another flea and crushed it between the sole of his sandal and the tiled floor. He crushed another one between two fingernails, feeling some vindication, and then knelt to read the scroll aloud.

  “Thus says the great Sennacherib, mighty king of the world, to King Hezekiah of Jerusalem: Do not let your God deceive you by promising that Jerusalem will be saved from Assyria’s hands. You have heard what the kings of Assyria have done to other nations, completely destroying them. How can your God deliver when all other gods failed?” He read the rest silently, his fear rising. Assyria was coming back to destroy Jerusalem.

  He rolled the scroll and stood, staring into the increasingly pale faces of his wife and counselors. “The rest of the message is filled with more blasphemy and slander against the Lord our God. I’m going to the Temple to pray. I would encourage the rest of you to remain faithful in your offerings to the Lord. Yahweh promised to deliver us, and He will be true to His word.”

  Hezi hurried out the private entrance without waiting for Samuel or Zibah. Breaking into a run, he raced through palace courts, Isaiah’s admonition replaying in his mind: You must go directly to Yahweh with your questions. Scroll in hand, he ran down the palace stairs and toward the Temple, panic rising. Finally, he crossed the threshold of the Guard’s Gate and entered the inner court, where only priests, Levites, and the king were allowed. Amid the wondering stares and concerned glances, King Hezekiah fell on his knees before the brazen altar and spread out the Assyrian scroll before the Lord.