Song of Redemption

by Lynn Austin

  Samaria must have fallen. There could be no other reason. Jerusha and Maacah would find out eventually, but Eliakim didn't want to be the one to tell them. He moved past Maacah.

  "I don't know. I've been in the tunnel all morning. Excuse meI have to get ready."

  Eliakim bathed in the mikveh, then changed into clean clothes. But as he hurried across the courtyard, he heard Jerusha's panicked voice coming through the open upstairs window.

  "I'm packing some food and water and I'm getting out! I'm not staying in Jerusalem, Maacah. I'm not!"

  "We can't leave-not after everything Uncle Hilkiah has done for us!" Maacah said. "Besides, where would we go?"

  "We'll find Uncle Saul and live with him."

  "But if Eliakim couldn't find him, how will we?"

  "I don't know! I don't care! We've got to get out of here!"

  "We're safer behind the city walls-"

  "No, we're not! The Assyrians could easily topple these walls. I've watched them do it!"

  Eliakim felt a knife twist in his stomach. He groaned and leaned against the wall of the house.

  "Maacah, I've seen them attack walls much thicker than Jerusalem's. And I've witnessed the horrible things they do once those walls are breached. I pitied the people who were trapped inside, and I won't become one of them! I won't!"

  Eliakim felt a hand on his shoulder. "Are you ready to go, son?" his father asked. Eliakim nodded. He didn't want to hear any more.

  They joined the crowd that stood before the sanctuary, anxiously waiting to hear the king's announcement. When Hezekiah finally mounted the royal dais, the murmuring fell silent.

  "Three days ago Samaria fell to the Assyrians." His strong voice carried no tremor of fear, and he stood with his shoulders straight, his head held high. "We need to remember our brethren and to pray for them. And we need to pray for ourselves, as well."

  As Eliakim bowed down in the courtyard, one overwhelming thought filled his mind: His tunnel wasn't finished. Eight months had passed since he had first begun to dig, and according to his calculations it was almost complete. But almost wasn't good enough. His long months of digging would all go to waste. The Assyrians would win again.

  In the Temple courtyard, the priests lifted their hands as they pleaded with God for help, but Eliakim was too panicked to pray. His mind raced in every direction at once, trying to figure out where he had gone wrong and how he could make the tunnels meet.

  The priests killed the sacrifices, and Eliakim rose with the other men and crowded around the altar. But he didn't hear any of the priests' words as he frantically struggled to recall the latest measure ments of the tunnels and to calculate how many more cubits they had to dig. Once again he asked the question that had haunted him day and night: Why hadn't they heard the signals?

  As the fire ascended heavenward, the Levites began their song of praise to Yahweh: "'I will sing of your strength, in the morning I will sing of your love; for you are my fortress, my refuge in times of trouble."'

  And before Eliakim realized it, the service was over. How could the lengthy sacrifice have passed so quickly without his hearing a word of it? As the men filed through the Temple gates to go home, panic gripped him. King Hezekiah was certain to ask for a report on the tunnel. Time had run out, and Eliakim had failed.

  Forgetting his father, Eliakim elbowed through the slow-moving crowd, pushing people aside. Once outside the Temple gates, he ran through the streets to the foreman's tent at the south tunnel. He was the first one to return, and when he realized that the work had stopped for the sacrifice, he grabbed a hammer and chisel and scrambled down the shaft to start digging. Then he remembered that he had calculations to make before King Hezekiah sent for him, and he threw down the tools and raced back to the tent. Sweat dripped from his forehead and ran down his neck as he bent over his scrolls in the suffocating tent.

  At last he heard the laborers returning and the clang of their tools as they went back to work. Minutes passed; then Eliakim finally heard footsteps approaching. He mopped the sweat from his brow and looked up.

  "A messenger has arrived from the palace, my lord. King Hezekiah wants to see you at once."

  "What do you mean, you can't find Isaiah?" Hezekiah stared at the messenger as if he had misunderstood.

  "The rabbi's house is empty, Your Majesty. His neighbors say he left home about a week and a half ago."

  "And no one knows where he went?" Shebna asked.

  "No one, sir. But we'll continue searching for him."

  Hezekiah groaned. He couldn't afford to wait for the prophet; he had to make a decision. He yearned to take action in this crisis, to issue commands instead of sitting around waiting for Isaiah. But he needed to hear from God first. He wondered if the prophet had fled because he knew that Judah was about to be invaded. All of a sudden God seemed very far away.

  "You have to find Isaiah!" Hezekiah said, clenching his fists. "Someone must know where he is. Intensify the search. This is important; I need him."

  While Hezekiah debated what to do next, his engineer arrived. Eliakim entered with his head bowed and his shoulders sagging. The proud confidence he had displayed when he first unveiled his plans for the tunnel had vanished. Hezekiah knew without asking that the tunnel wasn't finished. His anxiety deepened.

  "I assume you've heard the news about Samaria," he told Eliakim. "I'd like a report on the tunnel."

  Eliakim cleared his throat. "According to my calculations, the two tunnels are within a few cubits of breaking through."

  Shebna leaned forward. "Have the workmen heard the signals from the other side?"

  "Uh, no ... we still haven't heard them, but-"

  "Then this breakthrough you are talking about is only a theory."

  "There's every indication that-"

  Shebna's voice rose to a shout. "Can you guarantee that we will have a functioning water system within the next few days or not?"

  "No. I can't."

  Shebna slapped his thighs. "That is great! Not only will the Assyrians be able to use our water supply, maybe they can finish digging the tunnel for us. You have given them a convenient door into the city so they will not need their battering rams!"

  "Let him finish, Shebna," Hezekiah said. "Eliakim, how much longer do you think it will take?"

  He sighed and ran his fingers through his curly hair. "Your Majesty, we must be very close. I've been expecting a breakthrough for over a week. Just a few more days and-"

  "And the Assyrians will be camped out there helping you dig!" Shebna finished. "Besides, how do you know that the two tunnels are even in alignment? How do you know that they will ever meet? Maybe they have passed by each other already!" Shebna gestured with his hands, sailing them by each other without touching.

  "That's enough, Shebna," Hezekiah said.

  "I am sorry, my lord." He sat back and crossed his legs. Eliakim stared at the floor.

  "Eliakim, assuming that you break through in the next day or two," Hezekiah said, "how long until the tunnel is ready to use?"

  "The new Pool of Siloam is ready now. We could probably start diverting the water from the old aqueduct right away."

  "The problem is-we can't conceal the spring until the tunnel is finished, right?"

  "Yes, Your Majesty."

  "And if it isn't finished in the next two days," Hezekiah continued, "there won't be enough time to conceal it properly. Shebna's right. The Assyrians will be here to help us dig." He saw Eliakim close his eyes in defeat. "Now, we can spend the next two days digging and hope for a breakthrough, or we can spend that time erasing all traces of the half-finished project. Shebna, what do you say?"

  "I am not a man who likes to gamble, Your Majesty. Forget the tunnel and prepare for a siege."

  "Eliakim, what do you think?"

  "The two tunnels should have met by now," he mumbled. "I don't know why they haven't. I ... I can't offer any advice."

  Hezekiah felt torn. They would desperately need water if the Assyri
ans laid siege to the city, but did he dare take a chance that the enemy would find the unfinished tunnel? Again he wished Isaiah were here to tell him what Yahweh had to say. But Isaiah wasn't here. And Hezekiah had to make a decision.

  "Go back and keep digging," Hezekiah said at last. "I'll let you know if I change my mind."

  Shebna stormed back to his chambers, angry and frustrated. King Hezekiah was making a terrible mistake. It would take the workmen days to hide every trace of the unfinished tunnels, but instead of ordering them to begin immediately, Hezekiah had allowed them to continue their useless digging. What a tragic waste of valuable time! The tunnels would never meet. The king should have listened to Shebna's advice and reopened the water shaft. At least that project would have been finished by now. It seemed to Shebna that the king was faltering in this crisis, unable or unwilling to make a decision. He was deeply disappointed in Hezekiah, and for the first time ever, Shebna wanted to distance himself from the king and be alone. But when he opened the door to his private chambers, Prince Gedaliah and the elders of Lachish were waiting for him.

  "Give us an audience with the king," Gedaliah said abruptly.

  Shebna folded his arms across his chest. "What for?"

  "Surely you've heard the news, Shebna. Samaria has fallen, and we're probably going to be next" He slapped a document into Shebna's hands. "This petition asks the king to send tribute before we're wiped out like our brothers to the north."

  "How did you get to Jerusalem so fast?"

  "The news is all over Judah that Assyrian scouts were seen in our territory. We didn't wait for the ax to fall. We decided to come with our petition right away. We just happened to arrive in time to hear the news. Now, do we get our audience or not?"

  "It would be a waste of time. Your petition will not matter one way or the other." Shebna handed it back to Gedaliah.

  "Haven't you had enough of him yet?" Gedaliah shouted. "Can't you see that my brother isn't fit to rule?"

  The elders' angry faces told Shebna that they agreed with the prince. And after Hezekiah's wavering indecision this morning, Shebna wondered if perhaps they were right. But if Gedaliah wanted to plot a rebellion, Shebna didn't want any witnesses to his part in the conspiracy.

  "I will see that the king gets your petition. Now, if you have anything more to discuss with me, Gedaliah, you will have to do it privately."

  "Oh, stop playing your stupid games. We all know you're as disgusted with Hezekiah as we are"

  "You are mistaken."

  "Oh, really? Then why have you been working until midnight every night on tax proposals and petitions for alliances?"

  The knowledge that he was being watched made Shebna shudder. "I drew up those documents in case the king decides to use them. I have no intention of implementing them myself."

  Gedaliah turned to the city elders. "You'd better leave and let me talk to him in private. He can be pretty stubborn." The men muttered their discontent as they filed from the room.

  "Now then," Gedaliah said when they were alone. "Can we cut out all the loyalty garbage and talk seriously?"

  "That depends. What exactly do you want from me?"

  "I thought you were smart, Shebna. But if you want me to spell it out for you, I will." His voice rose to a shout, and Shebna backed away from him. "We're about to be invaded by the most powerful nation on earth-all because Hezekiah became a religious fanatic and stopped sending tribute! There's only one thing left for any king to do-either send the tribute with his humble apologies or find some very strong allies, fast!"

  "That is what I have been advising-no, begging-him to do."

  "But he isn't listening, is he? Even his military advisors are telling him to marshal the troops, but is he listening? I'm telling you, he's incompetent!"

  "If you make that accusation again, I swear I will-"

  "Then what is he waiting for? Does he want to be wiped out?"

  Shebna hesitated, reluctant to disclose the reason for Hezekiah's inaction. Shebna knew that the king was a very competent ruler, even if he didn't always agree with his decisions. He could no longer bear to hear the prince's criticism.

  "King Hezekiah consults his god in every decision he makes. He is waiting for Isaiah to tell him what Yahweh wants him to do."

  Even as he spoke the words, Shebna realized the foolishness of what Hezekiah was doing. There was no god to answer him or to come to his rescue. The king had no right to risk his nation's future on the basis of a myth.

  Gedaliah spat out a string of angry curses. "Just who is running this nation-Hezekiah or Isaiah? And if you're supposed to be his chief advisor, why is he ignoring your advice and going to someone else?"

  This time Gedaliah's words hit their mark. Hezekiah had been ignoring Shebna's advice for weeks, and no amount of pleading had changed his mind. Even this morning the king had asked for Shebna's advice on the tunnel, then promptly disregarded it. But Hezekiah wouldn't ignore Isaiah's advice. Shebna's anger and frustration fmally reached their limit.

  "What do you propose, Gedaliah?"

  "It isn't just my proposal. All the city elders agree-some of the army commanders, too. If King Hezekiah won't listen to reason, then we need a different king."

  Shebna turned his back on Gedaliah and stared through the open window at Ahaz's clock tower. Disappointment and resentment consumed him, and for the first time in his life he couldn't seem to think clearly.

  "Will there be an assassination?" he finally asked.

  "I could never kill my own brother." Gedaliah's voice was as smooth as olive oil. Shebna knew he was lying.

  "Who do these elders have in mind as their new king?" he asked bitterly.

  "My first action as King of Judah would be to do exactly what you've advised, Shebna-send tribute to Assyria in order to avert this disaster that's hanging over us. Unlike my brother, I would take your advice very seriously. I'm asking you to serve as my palace administrator."

  Shebna didn't reply. He hated Gedaliah. The prince was a powerhungry traitor, but he was also right. The nation faced certain annihilation if Hezekiah refused to act. Shebna's friendship and loyalty to Hezekiah spanned more than twenty years. He greatly admired the king for his integrity and courage, qualities that Gedaliah certainly lacked. But the frustration of having his own advice ignored for the past several months had strained their relationship. The fact that Hezekiah turned to Isaiah in a crisis instead of him angered him the most.

  Shebna understood the consequences of supporting Gedaliah if the takeover failed. But he also understood the consequences of remaining loyal to Hezekiah if the plot succeeded. It was simply a matter of betting on which brother would win-or deciding which brother he was willing to die for. He felt trapped.

  "Are you with us or not?" Gedahah asked.

  "When is this going to take place?"

  "I'm not stupid enough to tell you everything until I know where you stand."

  "I need time to decide." The only way for Shebna to escape this trap was to find Isaiah and hope that the prophet's advice would finally cause Hezekiah to take action.

  "You're stalling!" Gedaliah said.

  "No! You are asking me to put my life in jeopardy. I will give you my decision tomorrow. Not before."

  "We can't wait that long."

  "If you want my support, you will have to. Now get out!"

  34

  ELIAKIM LEFT THE PALACE and walked down the hill in a daze of guilt and failure. He had seen the anxiety and disappointment on King Hezekiah's face, and he knew he was to blame. He had been so sure he could do the impossible. Now he had failed. The king had told him to keep digging, but what was the use? Eliakim knew that his two tunnels were never going to meet.

  As he walked through the Water Gate and down the steep ramp to the spring, he saw the beautiful Kidron Valley spread out before him. But instead of the green patchwork of gardens and olive groves, Eliakim saw thousands of Assyrian troops trampling the earth beneath their chariots, staining the brook red
with blood. With a gnawing ache in the pit of his stomach, he made his way to the tunnel entrance and found his foreman.

  "I need to measure the tunnel again," Eliakim told him. "We must have strayed off course somehow, and we need to get back on track"

  Eliakim tried to sound confident, but anything he tried would be a stab in the dark. It seemed useless to continue digging, but he didn't know what else to do except obey the king's orders.

  "Tell all the men to take a break," he said. "Send them out here so they'll be out of my way. I need space to measure properly."

  "Even the laborer at the end, my lord?"

  "Yes. And bring all the torches out to conserve air; it's getting stuffy in there. I'll need only one lamp."

  The foreman shrugged. "Whatever you say. You're the boss."

  Eliakim sat down to wait, wishing in vain that he wasn't the boss. When the workmen had all cleared out, Eliakim slowly crawled through the tunnel, re-measuring carefully, comparing the results with the figures in his diagrams. The twisting path of the fissure probably caused all his problems in this tunnel. And the huge curve he had dug to avoid the kings' graves had thrown him off course in the other one. He wished for the hundredth time that he had dug the tunnel straight instead of following the fault line.

  But as Eliakim crouched in the cramped, suffocating darkness, he knew that he wouldn't find a mistake in his calculations. His mistake had been pride-reckless overconfidence fueled by hatred. Arrogance had convinced him that he could tunnel from opposite ends and meet in the middle. Revenge had induced him to attempt this impossible feat. He had been a conceited fool.

  With rising despair, Eliakim inched through the dark, stuffy tunnel, measuring carefully, pulling his lamp and his drawings along with him. When the ceiling lowered, he ducked his head and crawled on his hands and knees for the last few cubits until the tunnel ended abruptly in a wall of rock. He crouched in a space barely three feet high and as wide as his shoulders, surrounded on three sides by solid rock. Unyielding, impenetrable, immovable rock. He hadn't dug a tunnel after all, but a tomb-twin grave pits in which to bury the people of Jerusalem. He had failed.