Among the Gods (Chronicles of the Kings Book #5)

  Joshua’s apprehension didn’t diminish once he’d bathed and changed his clothes and joined Prince Amariah and the other elders in the audience hall. The visiting delegation was composed of a mixture of Egyptians and Assyrians along with countless slaves, but the central figure in the drama was a lavishly dressed Assyrian who carried himself with the air of royalty. Joshua shifted restlessly in his seat beside Amariah as he waited for all the rituals of protocol, the diplomatic pleasantries, the exchange of gifts and compliments, to finally come to an end. Pharaoh’s ambassador introduced the Assyrian dignitary.

  “This is Shamash-Shum-Ukin, viceroy of the Assyrian province of Babylon. He is also Emperor Ashurbanipal’s brother. Pharaoh thought you might be interested in what he has to say.”

  “We are honored by your visit, my lord,” Amariah said, bowing slightly. “And very interested to hear what brings you such a great distance.”

  Joshua had to listen closely to follow the viceroy’s long, rambling speech, rendered in poorly pronounced Hebrew by a translator. The Assyrian complained in unflattering terms about his brother’s reign and the hardship his policies had brought to vassal states and provinces such as Babylon. But when the viceroy finally reached the point of his lengthy discourse, his words astounded Joshua.

  “I’ve come to propose a revolution against my brother Ashurbanipal’s harsh reign. I will lead the revolt myself, with all of Babylon’s rich resources at my disposal. The leaders of many beleaguered vassal nations—including the new Egyptian pharaoh, Psammetichus—have already pledged their support. I was hoping for yours, as well.”

  For a moment, Amariah gaped at him speechlessly, then he eyed the Egyptian officials warily. “I am honored that you would travel all this way to confer with me, my lord, but I’m afraid you have a greatly exaggerated view of my importance. I am the leader of only a small band of expatriates from Judah, nothing more. And I govern this island only by the gracious consent of Pharaoh.”

  “Your humility is admirable, Prince Amariah,” the viceroy said, “but the truth is, we have a great deal in common. You long to rebel against your brother’s reign as much as I long to rebel against mine.”

  Joshua could no longer stay seated. “Excuse me, how did you know—?”

  “That he is a son of King Hezekiah? An heir to the royal dynasty of King David? It’s simple—Pharaoh Psammetichus told me.”

  “We’ve known the truth about your identity for a long time, Prince Amariah,” the Egyptian ambassador said. “When King Manasseh learned you’d sought refuge with us, he requested your extradition as a traitor. Pharaoh Taharqo refused, as did the current pharaoh. You Judeans have proven yourselves loyal subjects and valiant soldiers.”

  “Both are qualities I’m looking for,” the Assyrian viceroy added.

  Joshua was still on his feet, struggling to comprehend this astounding turn of events. “Excuse me once again, but I need to know … have you asked King Manasseh to join your rebellion?”

  “I’ve been careful to approach only those leaders who have clearly displayed anti-Assyrian sentiments. Judah’s king is not among them. In fact, he has launched several very bloody purges among his own nobility, executing anyone suspected of disloyalty to the empire. I also happen to know that there is a great deal of discontent among the common people of your nation because of the heavy taxation my brother Ashurbanipal has imposed on them. They lack only a legal heir of David—such as Prince Amariah—and a trained military force—such as the one he commands here—to rally them to revolt against Manasseh.”

  “God of Abraham,” Joshua murmured as he groped for his seat. “You’re finally going to let us go home.” He listened to the remainder of the meeting as if in a dream.

  “I’ve come to ask you to sign a treaty of alliance with me, Prince Amariah, and join my rebellion. When we are victorious, you will be the king of Judah, an independent state in a confederation of states with myself as the leader.”

  “When would this revolution take place?” Amariah asked quietly.

  “I am in the final stages of planning a coordinated strike—perhaps within a year’s time. My plan is to ignite so many small fires of revolution throughout the empire that my brother will be unable to extinguish them all at once. I could use a stronghold such as Jerusalem in the very heart of the western vassal states, cutting Ashurbanipal’s lines of communication and supply. If you decide to join me, Prince Amariah, you would have ample time to prepare your forces, plan your strategy, then await my signal to liberate your homeland.”

  “God of Abraham, thank you,” Joshua murmured.

  Long after the viceroy had left the assembly with his delegates to await Amariah’s decision, Joshua and the other elders sat in stunned silence. “Could this be God’s plan to win back the nation?” Amariah finally asked.

  “We’ve waited so long for this,” someone said. “I have children and grandchildren who don’t know any other home but Elephantine.”

  Joshua said nothing. Unlike their last assassination plot, which Joshua had forced on Amariah by bullying and coercion, this plan would come to pass without his interference. He was certain that joining the rebellion was God’s will, that the long season of exile was over at last. He had sacrificed his right to revenge as part of his vow to save Miriam’s life, but Manasseh’s crimes demanded justice, and Yahweh was a God of justice.

  “I’m no longer the legal heir,” Amariah said. “We know that Manasseh has a son. The boy must be nine or ten years old by now. I won’t plot to kill him.”

  “I agree with you,” Joshua said. “But you could serve as coregent with him until he is old enough to reign alone. After living under Manasseh’s influence, I’m sure he’ll need a great deal of guidance.”

  The prince turned to the high priest. “Could I hear your thoughts on all this, Joel?”

  “I don’t know what to think,” he said, shaking his head. “The viceroy may well be on our side, but he’s still an Assyrian. No doubt he’s as ruthless and cold-blooded as his brother and all the rest of them are. Would God really use a pagan to help us?”

  “Yes, I think He might,” Amariah said. “I’ve studied all of Rabbi Isaiah’s prophecies, and he insists that the Assyrians are God’s instruments of judgment.” The prince paused, scrutinizing his advisors’ faces, inviting their comments. As hard as it was for Joshua to remain silent, he determined not to pressure Amariah. God’s will must be done. When no one spoke, the prince drew a deep breath. “Going to war means putting ourselves, our brethren, and our sons at risk. I won’t do it unless I’m certain this is what God wants. Joel, would it be appropriate to seek God’s word with Urim and Thummim?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty. That’s why we made a replica of the ephod—for decisions such as this one.”

  Long before the priests made the appropriate sacrifices, long before they offered prayers for divine guidance, Joshua knew which stone God would lead Joel to select from his ephod. Yahweh had clearly orchestrated all these events to bring them to this day of judgment against King Manasseh. Joshua felt no surprise at all when Joel drew Thummim, only a deep sense of satisfaction and peace.

  “This opportunity is from God,” Prince Amariah announced. “We’re going to sign the treaty and join Viceroy Shamash-Shum-Ukin’s rebellion.”

  In the months that followed, all but the most essential business came to a halt on Elephantine Island as Joshua helped the exiles prepare for the coming revolution and the liberation of their homeland. While the soldiers honed their fighting skills, Joshua sent spies into Judah to gauge the extent of support they could expect from their countrymen. The men returned with encouraging reports of widespread discontent under the Assyrians’ domination, along with shocking stories of the wickedness and idolatry that had spread throughout the land under Manasseh’s evil reign.

  “It’s time,” Joshua assured Prince Amariah. “God’s judgment is long overdue. We’ve lived more years on Elephantine Island than we lived in Jerusalem. My son, Nathan, was a
child when we left and has grown to manhood here. I’m about to become a grandfather, like Abba was the night this all began. It’s time.”

  “I know,” Amariah said. “My sons were all born here. To them, the Promised Land is only a place they learned about in school.”

  Joshua spent long hours with Amariah and General Benjamin’s sons, planning the approaching invasion. With promises of weapons and support from Pharaoh and the Assyrian viceroy, he felt confident that his well-trained regiments, experienced in battle, could easily overpower Manasseh’s forces. Joshua himself would lead the commando squad that would infiltrate Jerusalem ahead of time, opening the gates for the invading troops.

  As he waited restlessly for the Assyrian viceroy’s signal, the contentment Joshua had finally found on Elephantine Island rapidly disintegrated. Everything he had learned to accept about life in Egypt began to irritate him, from the grainy beer they were forced to drink in place of wine, to the stench of rotting fish that seemed to permeate every inch of the island.

  “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve tasted good Judean wine?” he asked Miriam. “Or eaten an olive fresh-picked from the tree?”

  “I remember how steep the streets of Jerusalem were,” she said, laughing. “I wonder how I will ever manage with my crutches.”

  “It won’t matter, Miriam. When we return to Jerusalem, we’ll all be walking on air.”

  Joshua was at home one evening, changing his clothes before the sacrifice, when Prince Amariah arrived unexpectedly at his door. Joshua appraised his pale face and strained features and knew that the moment he’d long awaited had finally arrived.

  “The rebellion has started, hasn’t it!” Joshua was stunned when the prince shook his head.

  “Can I sit down?” Amariah sank onto the nearest bench before Joshua could reply. “I haven’t told any of the others this news. I needed to talk to you alone, first.”

  Joshua felt a wave of dread. He drew a deep breath, afraid that the stones would soon begin to pile onto his chest. “What happened?”

  “The viceroy’s rebellion has ended before it ever began. Emperor Ashurbanipal learned of it somehow, and he executed his brother as a traitor.”

  “No … that isn’t possible!” Joshua’s limbs began to tremble with rage and disbelief. “You’ve heard wrong! This was God’s will … we sought His word….”

  “It’s true, Joshua. The Assyrians sent announcements throughout their empire. The viceroy is dead. The rebellion is finished. I received word about it from Pharaoh himself.”

  “No,” he moaned, struggling for air. “I don’t understand! Why would God raise all of our hopes like this, just to dash them again? What is He doing to us?”

  “I don’t know,” Amariah replied. “I don’t know what to think.”

  “But we can still go ahead with our plans, can’t we?” he said in desperation. “People in Judah are fed up with King Manasseh. They’ll join our rebellion.”

  “You know that’s impossible. The emperor will be expecting trouble. His troops will be ready to quell any disturbances as quickly as they spring up. We’d never stand a chance on our own, and Pharaoh can’t help us, either.”

  “Is God in control or isn’t He?” Joshua shouted. “Why did everything fall apart? We prayed! We sought His will! He said yes!”

  “Joshua, the Urim and Thummim said only that it was His will to join the rebellion, not that we’d win our homeland back.”

  “But what was the point of it? Why join a rebellion that God knew would collapse?”

  “I wish I knew.”

  “O God of Abraham, why?” he moaned. “I’ve been trying to be patient all these years, trying to settle down and be content here, but He’s kept me waiting like a petitioner outside His throne room, waiting for an audience, waiting for justice! Won’t I ever see it? How long, God? How long?” He bent over with his hands on his thighs, gasping for air, certain he would suffocate.

  “Are you all right?” Amariah asked in alarm. “Where’s Miriam? Shall I get her?”

  “No, don’t … she’s not here….” He wrestled to control his terrible rage, knowing that it was choking off his life. “I’ll be okay … in a minute….” He managed to stand straight again just as the shofar announced the evening sacrifice.

  “I’ll walk with you,” Amariah offered, but Joshua shook his head.

  “I can’t go…. I can’t praise God….”

  “Joshua, don’t do this to yourself. Don’t turn away from God. Let’s seek Him for answers together.”

  “I’d be a hypocrite if I set one foot in that temple,” he breathed. “Go without me. I want to be alone.” He turned his back on Amariah and stumbled out of the rear door, heading toward the riverbank, hoping the prince wouldn’t follow.

  He found the beach windswept and deserted, as barren and desolate as his own soul. His plans and dreams had been cruelly crushed. There would be no freedom from exile on Elephantine Island, no judgment or punishment for King Manasseh. Once again, God had slammed a door of hope in Joshua’s face. He stood alone for a long time, watching the sun set over the Nile, waiting for the terrible darkness to slowly close in around him.

  24

  KING MANASSEH STOOD BEFORE THE BRONZE MIRROR, admiring his reflection as his servants dressed him in his royal robes. What he saw pleased him. True, he had put on weight over the years as he’d slipped into middle age, but he thought the extra bulk, along with the strands of silver in his dark hair and beard, gave him added dignity. As he turned to leave his chambers for his daily omen-reading, his secretary stopped him.

  “I thought you would want to know right away, Your Majesty. A runner has just reported that a large brigade of Assyrian soldiers crossed our border shortly after dawn. They are headed for Jerusalem and should arrive soon.”

  Manasseh didn’t have time to wonder why. “Quickly, tell Zerah to make plans. We must greet our unexpected guests with a lavish welcome.”

  When the Assyrians arrived, Manasseh was surprised to learn that Emperor Ashurbanipal had sent his personal spokesman, the rabshekeh, who requested an immediate audience. Manasseh greeted him with all the pomp and splendor he could afford, aware of what an honor he was being paid by this visit.

  “I know that only the most urgent business could have brought such an important man as yourself this great distance,” Manasseh gushed. “I hope you won’t think me rude if I express my curiosity. Why am I being paid such an honor?”

  The rabshekeh eyed him coolly. He seemed to take his time answering. “Did you receive Emperor Ashurbanipal’s notice about the rebellion led by his brother, viceroy of Babylon?”

  “I was shocked by the news, of course, but very pleased to learn that the emperor has successfully quenched the rebellion—praise be to the gods.”

  The rabshekeh wore a mocking expression as he applauded softly. “A fine performance, King Manasseh. You are a very good actor. But we have proof that you participated in the viceroy’s plot.”

  Fear turned Manasseh’s blood to ice. “Never! It isn’t true! I didn’t know anything about the rebellion until I received the emperor’s notice!”

  “You’re lying. The viceroy didn’t have time to destroy all of his documents before we captured him. We found a list of coconspirators. One of them was you—the ruler of Judah, son of King Hezekiah, heir to the dynasty of King David.”

  “But it’s not true! It has to be a mistake!”

  “The document bore King David’s seal—your seal. It was unmistakable.”

  Manasseh glanced around in horror, noticing for the first time how many Assyrian soldiers had crowded his throne room, how menacing they appeared fully armed. His own bodyguards had vanished, and the Assyrians were blocking all of the doors. He felt the terror of being trapped with no escape.

  “You … you have to believe me,” he stammered. “I never joined any rebellion!” He was sweating and nauseated, certain he would faint. He had to do something! The rabshekeh had to believe him! Then
Manasseh suddenly realized how he had been framed. “Wait a minute. I’m not the one you want, it’s my brother … it has to be! He’s a traitor who fled the country years ago. He was still wearing a royal signet ring on his finger. He’s in league with my enemies. They’ve been plotting to topple my government for years. You have to believe me—this is all a mistake!”

  “Nice try, Manasseh, but I don’t believe you. According to our records, your nation has a long history of rebellion. Your father, King Hezekiah, rebelled against Emperors Shalmaneser and Sennacherib.”

  “Then your records will also show that I’ve faithfully paid tribute to Emperors Esarhaddon and Ashurbanipal—”

  “Yes, while conspiring with Ashurbanipal’s brother. The Egyptians were also part of the rebellion, and we know that your son is named Amon, after Egypt’s most important god.”

  Manasseh’s stomach twisted like wrung cloth. Was this how Joshua would finally defeat him? “Please, I can explain. The Egyptians have been harboring my enemies and my traitorous brother for years. I named my son Amon in order to gain the Egyptian god’s favor against them. Tell him, Zerah.”

  “It … it’s the truth.” Zerah’s shaky voice was barely a whisper. He had the deathly pallor of a corpse.

  “Please,” Manasseh begged, “tell your emperor that I can explain. You see, my enemies—”

  “Save it for your trial.” The rabshekeh motioned to his men, and they moved toward Manasseh with barbed hooks and bronze shackles. He was afraid he was going to scream.

  “What are you doing to me? You can’t …” They hauled Manasseh to his feet to strip off his royal robe. “No … stop!” He tried to resist, but there were too many of them, they were too strong. As he vainly tried to cling to his garments, one of the blue tassels tore off in his hand and he clutched it to his chest as if it could save him. They ripped away his tunic, as well, until he stood clothed in only his undergarments. He felt naked and exposed.