by Ted Stewart
The city sat along the only highway that stretched between the Indian Ocean and the Mediterranean Sea, its strategic location bringing it fabulous wealth. To his left, the Khosr River flowed through the city and merged into the Tigris outside the Water Gate. Before him, the mighty Tigris ran along the western walls, the city rising in a multitude of levels more than a hundred feet above the river. Blues. Greens. Pinks. Light browns. The colors of the city walls and the Palace of Sennacherib glinted in the morning light. Perhaps 150,000 inhabitants lived within the city, though the true number was not known. It was a multiday journey to walk around its mighty walls.
Fifteen great gates penetrated the city walls, most of them housing armories of the Assyrian army. Within the city, eighteen canals brought fresh water from the hills more than forty miles away, providing the inhabitants with lush ponds and a cleaner source of water than the Tigris and Khosr could provide. Built upon the fertile plain, wheat and oat fields waved golden in the light, the wind moving across them in unpredictable waves. Orchards dotted the distance, and vineyards scented the dry air. Within the city, the Assyrians had built magnificent temples to the gods: Sin, Nergal, Samas, Ishtar, and Nabiu. But none of the temples were any match for the Palace of Sennacherib. The general knew the statistics well: 1,650 feet long, almost 800 feet wide. More than 160 million bricks had been used in the palace foundation alone, as the king had once famously pointed out to a group of government leaders who had no concept of what a million even meant. Atop the deep foundations were eighty rooms, most of them guarded by magnificent rock figures, thirty-ton sculptures of winged lions and bulls with human heads. Throughout the mighty palace, the stone walls were inscribed with the stories of various military campaigns.5
And that was why the general had come—to report on Lachish and Jerusalem. And to explain to the king what he was going to do next.
He stared at the city a long moment, knowing his wife and children were waiting for him. But first he had to see the king. Indeed, he knew it was unlikely that he would get to see his family on this visit, not with unfinished business in the south.
Forty minutes later, he was escorted into the inner sanctum of the Royal Palace, a location few living men had ever seen.
The king was waiting for him.
General Rabshakeh began his report.
• • •
The king was clearly losing patience, but the general stood his ground, though his heart slammed with fear inside his chest. Although the king was not a god, he was just a breath away, for he was chosen by the gods, he was their spokesman, their emissary, their voice and heart and soul here on earth. There were only a handful of men in the world who dared to have anything close to a frank conversation with the king, for to take a stand against him was just a hair short of standing against the very gods themselves. But the general had no choice. His only purpose in life was to serve the gods through service to the king, and he was wise enough to know that he would fail in that purpose if he wasn’t honest with the king.
“How could they be so insolent!” the king cried. “How dare they stand before me! Think of other nations I have scattered. Yet they defy me now!”
General Rabshakeh stared through the narrow windows that looked out on the river, not seeing the small ships with their multicolored sails or the waving fields beyond the riverbanks. He knew what he had to say, but the words were slow to come. Finally, he offered carefully, “The Jewish king believes his God will save them.”
Sennacherib snorted. “Knows he not what I and my fathers have done in other lands? Have any of the gods of other nations delivered their people from my hand? Where are the gods of Hamath? The gods of Arpad? Where are the gods of Sepharvaim, Hena, or Ivah? All of them defied me! All of them have been destroyed! Are there any nations that have been protected by their armies or their gods! Didn’t the suffering of Lachish teach anything to the Jewish king?”
Rabshakeh brought his eyes away from the window. The smell of smoke and salt and fish permeated the palace air. Among the odors was the scent of his own skin, tart and sweet, like fear. “Hezekiah is a young king,” he offered the master. “With youth sometimes comes obstinacy . . .”
“Young or not, he is a fool!”
“He believes he has spent his entire reign preparing for this moment. He has purged heresy from his people, bringing them back to their true religion. He believes that he is called of their god, Jehovah. This has given him moral power, which brings him foolish courage, I am afraid. But that is not all, my king. He has fortified the city, built underground aqueducts and canals. He has prepared men of arms. Rebuilt the walls and towers. He has prepared darts. Bows. Arrows. Slings and shields. He has prepared for war.”
The king’s eyes grew dark. “Do you think he is the first one to prepare?”
General Rabshakeh shook his head. “Of course he is not, my king.” But there he hesitated, for there was something about the Jewish king that weighed upon him. Something he didn’t understand. He thought of the words King Hezekiah had told his people: “Be strong. Be courageous. Be not afraid or dismayed of the king of Assyria or his army for there be more with us than with them.”6
How could that be?
The general took a long breath, then shook his head. “He rallies his people,” was all he said.
The angry king leaned forward on his chair. “He is lying to his people. He cannot withstand us and he knows it. They will only be destroyed.” The king was not used to being defied and it showed in his face. Very few cities would have failed to capitulate after they had observed the fate of Lachish.
The general watched his master carefully. “Hezekiah has committed to paying homage,” he reminded him. “He has ransacked his own palace and their temple to raise the gold and silver sufficient to save the city.”
King Sennacherib didn’t answer. The general knew he didn’t care. This was no longer just another military campaign. This was pride. This was rage and fury. This was about showing the insolent Jews whom to fear.
The two men sat in silence a short moment, the general staring at his feet. There was something else that he wanted to tell his master, but he couldn’t find the words, the idea so troubling that he had decided to keep it to himself.
The Jews, he had been informed, had a talisman. An oracle. They said he could divine the will of God. This was something new for the Assyrians, for even their royal king was left to wonder if he had sufficiently predicted the will of the gods. And Rabshakeh had been told that King Hezekiah had counseled with this prophet, and the prophet had talked to God. Then the seer had told the king to stand against Assyria, to hold their ground. The words of the prophet came back to him again: There be more with us than with them.
• • •
Sennacherib stared at the general, then wet his lips. It seemed Rabshakeh had more to say, but when he held his tongue the great master turned away and thought.
The hard truth was, he had to take Jerusalem. It was the only thing that stood between his empire and the growing power of the Egyptian army. How long now had the Egyptians vexed him? And they had grown powerful once again. Their armies were rising, growing restless, their generals eager to expend some energy, their men lusting to taste spoils, their pharaoh thirsting for more power. And though the kingdom of Judah was small and insignificant, there was always this one thing: It stood along the land bridge between Assyria and the Nile. To the west was the great ocean, to the east the desert stretched for miles. Because of its strategic location, Judah was a natural buffer, the only thing that stood between Assyria and the powerful kingdom along the Nile. And the insolent Jews had already formed an alliance with the hated Egyptians. Alliances with the Phoenician sailors and the Syrians as well.
No. He had to take Jerusalem. It was absolutely necessary to protect his southern border.
He turned and leaned toward Rabshakeh, his eyes burning w
ith rage. “I want you to take Jerusalem. I want you to bring it to its knees. My fathers have already destroyed the northern kingdom. Surely, you can do the same in the south. I want every Jew to be taken, their city leveled and burned with fire. Do you understand me, general! I want to scatter their entire people as the chaff before the wind. Like a hundred other gods before it, let the name of Jehovah be lost in time.”
He paused and took an angry breath, his nostrils flaring, his dark cheeks tense above his braided beard. “Have I ever undertaken to destroy a city, then changed my mind and let it be? Never have I, general. Not once! You understand? And I certainly don’t intend to start such a habit now, especially with such a weak and insolent people as the Jews. You will destroy them. You will kill them. You will scatter their people to the far corners of the world. Then the memory of their religion will die with them, the world forgetting the God of Israel before my son is old enough sit upon this throne.”
A Reason to Fight
Powerful as it was—and it was very powerful—Assyria was not alone as an empire in the Near East in this era. As history has proven, few empires have the luxury of sitting atop the pile, preeminent and unchallenged, for long periods of time, for by definition their status breeds the contempt and jealousy that give rise to other powers. During the time of the siege at Jerusalem, Babylon was an emerging menace in the southeast. Most threatening, however, was the kingdom of Egypt in the southwest.
At one time, in between the two major powers of Assyria and Egypt were located the small kingdoms of Israel and Judah. Once a united and relatively powerful nation, the kingdom of David split soon after the death of Solomon (about 928 BC). The resulting kingdoms, known as the kingdom of Israel in the north and the kingdom of Judah in the south, were occasional allies but more often enemies in the two hundred years after Solomon’s death. Judah’s capital was Jerusalem and Israel’s capital was Samaria.
Both Judah and Israel possessed certain strengths. Judah controlled copper and iron resources. Israel had better rainfall and more fertile land, especially in the Jordan and Jezreel valleys. More important than these assets was the fact that, together, they controlled the land bridge between Mesopotamia (Assyria) and Egypt. This position brought them considerable wealth through the invaluable trade routes that existed between these major nations. More important, they became a natural buffer—or a battle zone, depending on the situation—between the rival kingdoms.
In addition to their value geographically, both kingdoms were players in the ongoing drama of nations allied with or against the Assyrians and Egyptians. Sometimes the two kingdoms would unite with neighbors to combat the Assyrians, joining with the nations of Syria or Phoenicia to claim a greater degree of independence. As an example, in the year 853 BC, Assyrian King Shalmaneser III fought a major battle at Qarqar against an army made up of Syrians, Egyptians, and various other nations and city-states, with Israel being the major contributor—two thousand chariots and ten thousand troops.7 But though engaged in a constant struggle for survival and independence, both kingdoms were relatively powerless against the far greater nations to their north and south.
In addition to their constant struggle for survival, both nations also suffered from internal rivalries for power.
The northern kingdom of Israel had a particularly violent history. From the time of Solomon until their destruction by the Assyrians, twenty monarchs ruled the northern kingdom, most of them reckless and idol-worshipping men. Five family dynasties were instituted, all of which came to short-lived and violent ends, it being common for a new king to kill all of the descendants of a previous leader as well as to murder any of his other rivals. For these and other reasons, neither kingdom ever attained to any degree of significance on the world stage, the rivalry between them keeping them far weaker than they otherwise might have been.8
In short, during the two-hundred-plus years of their independent existence after Solomon’s death, both of the kingdoms experienced periods of ascent and decline, independence and vassal status. During this time, both kingdoms spent some time allied with, and paying tribute to, Assyria as well as some time allied with, and paying tribute to, the kingdom of Egypt. Occasionally they were allied together, but more frequently they were at war with one another, some of their battles being bloody, bitter affairs. In addition to their rivalry, they also had to contend with their immediate neighbors, Syria being a particular thorn in their sides.
And though the exclusivity of their religion and the elitist nature of their culture predisposed them to a national pride far beyond their apparent eminence, very often they were reminded that they were no more than pawns in a world chess game neither of them could control.
In 722 BC, the nation of Israel came to an epic and violent end when their King Hoshea decided to rebel against his Assyrian master. After he stopped paying tribute to Assyria and sought alliance with Egypt, Assyria’s King Shalmaneser V decided to remove the troublesome little kingdom once and for all. He undertook a campaign that ended with the brutal siege of Samaria. Though the three-year battle was long and bloody, ultimately he was successful. Samaria was destroyed. The kingdom of Israel was depopulated. Shalmaneser’s successor, Sargon II, turned Israel into an Assyrian province, repopulating the territory with various peoples from throughout the vast Assyrian Empire. Eventually, Samaria was rebuilt and used as the home of the new Assyrian governor and governing elite and bureaucrats. Assyrian became the written language used in most transactions.
History records that the former inhabitants of the kingdom of Israel were scattered throughout the Assyrian Empire: from northern Syria to Helah in the east. Tens of thousands were taken as far away as Media in the Zargos Mountains, 745 miles across the Mesopotamian plain.
By the time King Shalmaneser V was finished, the kingdom of Israel had ceased to exist.
To the outside world, the tribes of Israel that made up the population of the kingdom of Israel had lost their identity as a distinct people and have since been referred to as the “Ten Lost Tribes.”9
After the destruction of the northern kingdom, Judah remained a vassal of Assyria. Having witnessed the total and extraordinarily brutal destruction of Samaria, Judah’s King Hezekiah was a compliant vassal—for a time. But freedom was in his heart. In 705, the Assyrian King Sargon II died in battle. Believing the time was right for the Jews to reclaim their independence, Hezekiah seized the moment and organized Judah, Syria, and Phoenicia into a broad revolt. Hoping to weaken their enemy, Egypt promised support for the rebellious little nations.
Hezekiah prepared Judah for the inevitable Assyrian response. The wall around Jerusalem was extended. Towers were rebuilt and strengthened. Men were armed, preparations for war extending throughout the kingdom. Perhaps most important, a massive 1,750-foot tunnel was constructed to bring water from the Gihon Spring into the city of Jerusalem, assuring the inhabitants of a source of water during a long siege while denying the Assyrians access to the water they would need to keep their massive armies alive.
Sargon’s successor, Sennacherib, waited for a few years to address the rebellion. But when he acted, he did so decisively. Sennacherib marched and quickly overcame the rebellious Syrian and Phoenician city-states that had joined with Hezekiah. Egypt sent an army to aid the rebels, but the mighty Assyrian army quickly dispatched it to the wind.
Sennacherib then turned his fury upon Judah.
The Assyrian records state that he conquered forty-six of Judah’s fortified cities and their smaller surrounding towns, though Sennacherib seems to be particularly proud of the destruction at Lachish. In the walls of the Assyrian capital of Nineveh is a relief that depicts the assault on that city, portraying in great detail the assault machinery used to conquer the city, citizens impaled on stakes, and the survivors being marched into captivity. Sennacherib’s records claim the Assyrians took more than two hundred thousand slaves as booty from Lachish.
; Having dispatched the second greatest city in the kingdom, Sennacherib then laid siege on Jerusalem.
Assyrian envoys demanded capitulation, threatening the citizens of Jerusalem with the same fate as those of the cities already captured. The primary emissary, Rabshakeh, stood within the city walls and spoke in the local language so that the common people could understand his threats. He reminded the people of the greatness of the Assyrian army. He listed the cities they had already destroyed. He listed the gods that had been called upon to save the inhabitants of the cities that the Assyrian army had defeated, pointing out the futility of their misplaced faith in lesser gods. He commanded the people not to trust their own leaders, especially the naïve king, stating that neither Hezekiah nor their Lord could deliver them out of the Assyrians’ hands. He even promised the people of Jerusalem that they would be taken care of, assuring them with the lie that Sennacherib would send them to another good land like unto their own, one filled with olive oil and honey.
Hearing such statements left the city in shock.
The situation was more than desperate. They stood alone, all of their neighbors already defeated, their Egyptian allies having been cast back across the border to their south. All of Judah’s satellite cities and towns had been destroyed, their brothers to the north having been taken away a generation before. Their capital was under siege, entirely surrounded by the greatest and most brutal army in the world.
The Jews were trapped, their king shut up, in the words of Sennacherib’s own scribes, “like a bird in a cage.”10
And though there is some dispute as to what exactly followed, this much seems clear: no one expected Jerusalem to survive. The last of the Jews’ cities, along with their culture, their religion, their government, their people, and their faith in the great Jehovah was about to be destroyed.