“What is already in the mind of humans can easily be exploited,” said Rugio. “This man was bent on conquest. I only needed to appeal to his pride.”
He looked in the direction of the great tent of Sennacherib that dwarfed every other tent in the camp. “Stupid, human pride!”
“Still, it took some cleverness on your part,” said Nathan.
“True,” agreed Rugio. Not being noted for his cleverness like Kara or Pellecus, he enjoyed the compliment. “It was clever. But simple too. I merely appeared to him in the form of the Assyrians’ chief god, Ashur, and commanded him to avenge my name that was being dishonored in Jerusalem. He was quite taken in.”
They watched as the army continued to move inexorably down the road. From time to time the demon escorts would look in the direction of Rugio and cheer him. Rugio acknowledged their homage and encouraged them in their upcoming battle with Michael’s angels, who jealously guarded the holy city.
“The archangel must be demoralized by now,” said Rugio.
“I cannot wait to see the look on his face when once more we enter his holy place,” said Nathan. “This time, however, he is at the mercy of the faith of men—not of angels! I think I shall let him escort me into the presence of the Ark personally!”
Rugio smiled at Nathan’s bitterness toward Michael. Ever since the encounter on earth when Serus came to Michael’s assistance, Nathan had held an unending grudge against the archangel. At last he would get satisfaction!
“The war is slipping away from him,” Rugio surmised, as an elephant trumpeted loudly. “Judah will disappear. And the precious Seed is about to find itself with no nation in which to germinate. Lucifer will get exactly what he has wanted all along—a draw to the game.”
The angels who guarded Jerusalem quietly awaited their next command. They understood that the enemy was headed once more for the gates of Jerusalem. Since the destruction of Israel, the Host had prepared itself for the coming assault. But unlike days past, the number of angels afforded by the people’s prayers was much smaller. Off in the distance Michael could see the Assyrian army—proud and menacing.
Judah’s recent idolatrous past, coupled with the collapse of Israel, had left the people in a state of numbness. Even the recent religious reforms of Hezekiah had not sufficiently captured the national heart. Thus, the strength of the angels in Jerusalem was not what it once was—nor what Michael would like it to be.
The archangel surveyed the magnificent city of Jerusalem from above. Once the home of the Jebusites, Jerusalem had been taken by David and had become the capital of his kingdom. Through the years kings had added to it—expanding its walls, creating public buildings, and erecting marvelous residences. But the greatest structure of all—the jewel of the nation—was the temple of Solomon.
Michael recalled the days when Solomon built the temple—David’s unfulfilled dream realized in his son. The temple was one of the greatest wonders in the world—a marvelous structure of polished stone, whose walls inside were overlaid with pure gold, and whose mysterious inner sanctum captured the hearts of priest and pagan alike.
Most importantly, God’s very Presence, which rested in the Ark of the Testimony, was evidence of the Lord’s continued shepherding of His people. The temple had always been a source of comfort in troubled times—even when they had in many ways forgotten the Lord on whom they called but seldom feared. Looking down at the temple now, Michael wondered what the future held for it—and the rest of the city.
“Michael!”
Michael turned to see Crispin gliding in from above. He smiled at his old teacher with whom he had shared so many incredible experiences since the war began.
“Greetings, good teacher,” hailed Michael. “What brings you to Jerusalem?”
“Curiosity,” said Crispin, motioning for the archangel to follow him. The two continued down into the city, alighting upon the rooftop of Hezekiah’s palace. “The king of Assyria, Sennacherib, that proud puppet of Rugio, has sent a message to Hezekiah. The envoys are just now returning with it.”
“Isaiah is also at court,” said Crispin. “It will be interesting to hear his counsel. Hezekiah has already ignored the prophet’s urging not to become involved with Egypt. Perhaps now that the threat is at his doorstep, he will trust in the Lord.”
“These human kings!” Michael said, shaking his head with disdain. “All they know is blustering threats and coercion. They are truly students of pride.”
“Excellent students,” agreed Crispin, with a sly grin on his face. “Of course they have had a great teacher—the best!”
“My king, this is the envoy of Sennacherib, king of the Assyrians,” said Eliakim, the palace administrator.
Hezekiah motioned for the man to approach. Bowing his head, Eliakim walked to the Assyrian commander and escorted him to the king. The man, dressed in the resplendent garb of the imperial guard, made a curt bow of his head. Hezekiah looked at the man and sized him up: cruel mouth and eyes, proud demeanor—probably a relative of the king or of one of his favorite concubines. An up-and-coming young officer whose future was bright in the bloody world of Assyrian politics.
The king was seated on a couch in a small receiving room. Not one for royal protocol, the king of Judah preferred more informal settings in which to deliberate pressing issues. He said it made him deal with such matters more reasonably. Besides, he had no reason to impress this man. Also present in the room was Shebna, Hezekiah’s secretary, and Joah, the official recorder for the court of Judah.
“Well, you have a message for me,” said Hezekiah. The Assyrian took out a scroll from a wooden box bearing the seal of Sennacherib and read these biting words:
“To Hezekiah king of Judah, Let not thy God in whom thou trustest deceive thee, saying, Jerusalem shall not be delivered into the hand of the king of Assyria. Behold, thou hast heard what the kings of Assyria have done to all lands, by destroying them utterly: and shalt thou be delivered? Have the gods of the nations delivered them which my fathers have destroyed; Gozan, and Haran, and Rezeph, and the children of Eden which were in Thelasar? Where is the king of Hamath, and the king of Arpad, and the king of the city of Sepharvaim, of Hena, and Ivah?”
When he had finished reading, the Assyrian commander lowered the manuscript and awaited the king’s invitation to proceed further. Hezekiah simply looked at him and said, ”Yes, what else is there to tell me?”
“King Hezekiah,” he began, “know that my lord Sennacherib, whose empire is the greatest on earth, will be merciful only once. Your people are afraid and your army is incapable of defeating us. Jerusalem shall be besieged and before it is over your men shall be eating their own waste and drinking their own urine in order to survive! This is the price of rebellion. Therefore, do not resist the king.”
After the man had been escorted out, Hezekiah began to tear his clothes, ripping them in tatters before his men. They remained silent as their king sat for a moment in solemn contemplation. Hezekiah looked around him. This was one of the rooms he had played in as a child, when his father was king and he was simply the heir. How simple it all was then! But because of the compromise of the kings before him in allowing Judah to slip into idolatry, even the reforms he had instituted seemed to have occurred too late to save his nation. He looked at his men.
“I want you all to put on sackcloth and send for the prophet Isaiah,” he said. “The man is in Jerusalem. He is the only one who can help us right now. He will hear from the Lord. Go now!”
The men bowed to their king and left the room. Hezekiah watched them leave, thankful to have such capable men around him. He looked out a window. Below him was Jerusalem—tense, holy Jerusalem. The sun was beginning to set behind the top of the temple, creating a marvelous silhouette of the magnificent edifice. That was it! He would go to the temple and pray! He would not bargain with this dog. For now he would let it rest with Isaiah. Surely the Lord would hear his prayers after such mockery by this…this Ashur-worshiping tyrant! He called f
or a steward.
“I am going to the temple,” he said. “When Eliakim returns tell him that I am there! And get me some sackcloth!”
“Yes, my king,” said the steward, who bowed, stepped out, and returned in a few moments with the rough, prickly material.
“I’m afraid, majesty, that it is a bit filthy,” said the steward ashamedly.
“Not as filthy as the king who is wearing it,” said Hezekiah. “Nor the nation that he governs.”
Outside the antechamber, Isaiah the prophet awaited the return of Hezekiah from the temple. Michael and Crispin stood nearby, observing this curious man of God who had conferred with the two previous kings, Uzziah and Ahaz. Having prophesied during the time of Israel’s destruction, Isaiah had seen in Judah a similar fate if they themselves did not repent. His message was typical of the prophets of his time: Repentance would bring the Lord’s mercy; continued sinful behavior would bring destruction.
He also brought another message, a curious promise of a future King whose vindication of Israel would be eternal and glorious—something very comforting, albeit very remote in these troubling times. Crispin had looked into the prophecies of this man, but understood little more than did the humans to whom they were spoken.
“He certainly speaks of the Seed—this King from David’s line,” remarked Crispin, as he and Michael continued their discussion of the prophet.
“I’m sure he is one of the more troubling prophets to Lucifer,” agreed Michael. As they spoke, Crispin and Michael were joined by Gabriel and Sangius, who had been sent in view of Hezekiah’s prayers that were being lifted up to the Lord.
“Well, Gabriel,” said Crispin. “What news from Heaven? May we expect some relief?”
Gabriel looked at Crispin and then indicated Isaiah, who remained silently awaiting his king. “The Spirit of the Lord shall speak to Hezekiah,” said Gabriel. “He has prayed for deliverance from Sennacherib and has repented on behalf of the nation.”
“And…?” prompted Crispin.
“And the Lord has heard his prayer,” answered Gabriel. “Even I do not know what His words shall be…exactly.”
The others understood that Gabriel was not at liberty to divulge any further news, so they politely moved the conversation forward.
“Interesting times for a prophet,” mused Sangius. “The others failed, of course.” He sighed and looked at his brother angels, reading consternation on their faces over what he had just said. “I mean Israel was destroyed and all…”
“The prophets did not fail, Sangius,” corrected Crispin. “The prophets did their duty in speaking the words of the Lord. It was the failure of the kings and priests and their own prophets to heed the warnings that brought about the destruction of Israel.”
“Yes, well I’m afraid the same shall happen to Judah,” Sangius remarked.
“If they do not repent,” said Crispin. “I quite agree.”
The angels remained silent for a moment as they contemplated the horrific possibility that the nation they had watched over for so long might become as their northern brothers had a few years previously.
“Isaiah’s prophecy against the king of Tyre has certainly enraged Lucifer,” said Gabriel, breaking the quiet moment. “How does it go…?”
“ ‘How you have fallen from heaven, O Morning Star, son of the dawn’—you mean this one?” asked Sangius.
“Well done, Sangius,” commended Crispin. “But do you know the rest?”
“Of course I know it,” he said. “The moment that Isaiah said these words I held them in my heart. You must recall that I was close to Lucifer once.” He looked at Michael. “These words have special meaning to me.”
He then closed his eyes and spoke:
“ ‘You said in your heart, “I will ascend to heaven; I will raise my throne above the stars of God; I will sit enthroned on the mount of assembly, on the utmost heights of the sacred mountain…I will make myself like the Most High…” ’ ”
The chilling words brought back the memory of Lucifer’s attempt to do just that, an action that resulted in a break with Heaven and the loss of so many former brothers—now bitter enemies. Such audacity! How true rang the words of the man of God.
“Lucifer certainly tried,” said Michael, sadly shaking his head. “He actually said he would be like the Most High God. What a tragedy!”
“And what nonsense,” said Crispin. “That a creature should try to subvert his Creator. But this is the subtlety of pride. Every sin, every act of defiance, every attitude that is out of place—every thought that is contrary to the Lord is rooted in pride. It is the great separator between creature and Creator.”
“Such an awful chasm,” said Gabriel.
“Yes,” remarked Crispin. “Broken permanently at Eden, I’m afraid. Humans have been operating in its deadly effect ever since.”
“Do you think it possible, dear teacher, that the chasm might one day be bridged?” asked Gabriel. “Will there ever again be a pure relationship between humans and God?”
“Considering that it is men and angels who are guilty of the pride that wrought the chasm,” answered Crispin, “I would say that neither man nor angels shall ever be capable of bridging that gap.”
CHAPTER 13
“We must believe the prophets.”
Hezekiah awaited the prophet’s words. He still wore the sackcloth that he had put on when he entered the temple to pray on behalf of the nation. Eliakim entered ahead of Isaiah and announced the prophet’s arrival. Hezekiah warmly greeted Isaiah and bid him respond to him.
Isaiah greeted the king, whose reforms in the land had been encouraging to the man of God. He saw in Hezekiah a man who was truly humble and who sought after the Lord with all his heart. In spite of the king’s dalliances with other nations rather than completely trusting the Lord, Isaiah knew that the king of Judah was a good man.
In the room, Michael and the others awaited the Lord’s pronouncement for Judah. The Spirit of God had indeed given the prophet a message from the Lord God. They stood in complete silence, sensing the Lord’s Spirit within Isaiah’s anointed words.
“I have an answer for you from the Lord,” said Isaiah.
“Pray tell me and I will do whatever the Lord requires,” said Hezekiah.
“ ‘Know this, Hezekiah,’ ” Isaiah began. “ ‘Your prayer concerning Sennacherib has been heard by the Lord and He has spoken against him. He shall not enter this city or even shoot an arrow against it. He will not besiege it not bear a shield against it! He shall leave the way he came for I the Lord am defending this city!’ ”
Hezekiah began to weep, praising the Lord God and hugging the prophet. Isaiah smiled at the king and watched as his ministers entered the room and shared in the celebration. The angels also were overjoyed in the Lord’s decision, worshiping the Lord for His mercy—all, that is, except Gabriel.
“What is wrong, Gabriel?” asked Michael. “This is wonderful news!”
Gabriel looked grimly at the others.
“There is more,” he said, looking out a window beyond the walls of Jerusalem in the direction of the Assyrian army. “Much more.”
The sentry yawned. The night was passing slowly and his duty was not up for several more hours. The army had been campaigning for several years now, expanding the Assyrian empire in new directions and bringing glory to its commanders. But tonight was cold and depressing. He longed for his family in Nineveh and didn’t look forward to what would probably be years of siege warfare against Jerusalem. He played with the red amulet his mother had given him for protection before he left on the campaign. It will be a long war, he thought to himself.
Rugio, who stood outside the field commander’s tent, awaited Nathan’s return. High above the Assyrian camp, the thousands of devils that accompanied the army were watching for any sign of the archangels, who they knew were in the city. Nathan had given specific instructions that they should keep vigilant.
When he had completed his rounds, Nathan jo
ined Rugio. He was quite exuberant.
“Our legions are intact and ready,” he said. “We have been sending forays into the city to start the panic, so when the siege begins…” He stopped. Rugio was not listening.
“My lord?” Nathan asked. “Rugio?”
Rugio looked at him as if waking from a dream. He was looking into the sky as if he were seeing something…listening to something. Nathan looked about, noticing nothing in particular. He looked quizzically at Rugio.
“Something is stirring,” Rugio said. “Something I cannot quite discern.”
“Perhaps it is something good, my lord,” offered Nathan.
A loud shriek broke the silence. Several demons were moving about in different directions. Others looked about, trying to determine what was happening. Rugio demanded to know what the disturbance was all about. Even the humans were beginning to stir themselves! What was this?
“My lord!” came a call from the blackness. It was one of Nathan’s commanders.
“What is it?” Nathan called back.
“The Angel of the Lord! He is here!”
Gabriel stood off a distance from the Angel of the Lord, who was slowly pouring into the camp. Michael was at the other end of the great army, positioning himself with thousands of the Host to throw a panic into the army from his end. It was to be a night of great destruction; and though Michael did not enjoy seeing humans die, he understood that the Lord was righteous in all of His actions—even in the taking of life at times.
The sentry peered into the darkness. Was that something moving? He looked again, rubbing his eyes. It looked like…an army! Thousands of the enemy were in the field. They were being attacked.
“Alarm! Alarm!” he called out.
Somebody blew a trumpet, signaling that the camp was under attack. Men began pouring out of their tents, weapons in hand. Commanders tried to regain a sense of order, but they themselves were thrown into a panic as they saw enemy soldiers everywhere! Loud crashes, trumpets, men shouting—all of this created a confusion that caused a once proud and disciplined warring machine to disintegrate into a panic.
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