Among the Gods (30 page)

Miriam was surrounded by the other women of her family, but she felt utterly alone. All of their husbands were exempt from battle: Joel, because he was the high priest; Amariah, because he was royalty; Jerimoth, because he was too old to become a soldier. All of their sons were too young to fight. Only Miriam risked losing both of the men she loved.

In spite of her loneliness, she refused to move out of her house; she needed the memories it held of Joshua and Nathan. Each time she went to the sacrifices, Miriam would gaze at the beautiful buildings, searching for memories of her husband in the temple he’d constructed. Her brother Mattan, who came often to help her, was touching in his devotion to her, but she hadn’t raised him to manhood as she’d raised Nathan. Prince Amariah came faithfully to share any news he had: the troops had arrived safely; they had joined Pharaoh’s other forces; a major conflict was expected soon.

Then came the day Miriam had dreaded; Amariah’s grim expression told her he had come with bad news. “There’s been a battle, Miriam. I’m told that our casualties were enormous. We’ll have to wait for names.” A week later he reported a second battle, equally devastating for Pharaoh’s forces. “The Assyrians have pushed deep into Egyptian territory, inflicting tremendous losses against the Egyptians. Still no names, but some of our wounded will be returning home soon.”

Miriam hobbled to the dock each day to watch for the first ships. When they finally sailed into the harbor, neither Joshua nor Nathan was on board. Amariah questioned the survivors and told Miriam that both men had survived the initial battle, but no one knew about the second.

Weeks passed, then months with the same disheartening story, the same maddening uncertainty—more battles, more losses, no word if either Joshua or Nathan still lived. Miriam spent hours waiting for ships at the dock or kneeling at the temple, praying for their safe return—or for the strength to cope if they didn’t. She remembered how Jerusha had remained steadfast in her faith, even after the devastating loss of her husband. Miriam prayed for the courage to follow her example.

Nearly ten months after the war began, Amariah came to Miriam’s house one evening before the sacrifice. She saw the mixed emotions playing across his features and waited, holding her breath. “The war is over, Miriam. The Assyrians have captured Memphis. Pharaoh Taharqo surrendered and has been taken captive.”

“What’s going to happen now?” she whispered.

“The Assyrians will leave occupation forces behind, but I doubt if they’ll come this far south. Except for higher tribute payments, we’ll probably be able to live much as we did before.”

“No wonder God moved us so far upstream,” she murmured.

“I had the same thought.” He smiled faintly, then turned serious once again. “Some of Pharaoh’s troops have been taken captive as spoil. The Assyrians will deport them to other lands. I’m told that they usually choose officers rather than enlisted men.”

“Joshua?”

“Maybe. God alone knows. But the rest of our men will be coming home.”

Over the next few weeks, the boats started to return with Elephantine’s soldiers. Neither Joshua nor Nathan was among the first to arrive home. Miriam waited and prayed, watching every day for their ship.

After two weeks of anticipation and dread, she finally spotted a tall figure wearing a dark eye patch standing against one of the ships’ rails. As the ship drew closer, Miriam scarcely dared to hope that it was her husband. But no other man from their island had the same proud stance, the same unruly black hair and scarred beard. It was Joshua! Tears blurred her vision, but not before she recognized the wiry figure standing beside him—Nathan!

Miriam quickly scrubbed the tears from her eyes and looked again. They were alive. They were together. She stared in disbelief at the easy manner they had with each other, the casual, affectionate way Nathan hooked his arm over Joshua’s shoulder. God not only had brought them back to her but had somehow brought them to each other. They were father and son at last.

Nathan spotted Miriam first and pointed to her for Joshua. They waved joyously, leaning so far over the rail that Miriam laughed, certain they would both topple overboard. Before the sailors could tie the ship to the dock, Joshua leaped across the gap to shore and ran to her, swinging her into his strong arms, crushing her in his embrace, mingling his tears with her own.

“I’m home, Miriam! I’m finally home! And I never want to leave you again!”

Part Three

But Manasseh led Judah and the people

of Jerusalem astray, so that they did

more evil than the nations the Lord

had destroyed before the Israelites.

The Lord spoke to Manasseh and his people,

but they paid no attention. So the Lord

brought against them the army commanders

of the king of Assyria….

2 C
HRONICLES
33 : 9–11

23

“C
OME LOOK AT THIS SHIP
, Nathan.” From the small rise where Joshua worked to build a new addition to the military garrison, he had a clear view of Elephantine Island’s harbor and the magnificent vessel that was sailing into it. “What do you make of it, son?” he asked when Nathan climbed up to join him.

Nathan whistled appreciatively. “Quite a sight! It’s flying Pharaoh’s banners. But I think I see Assyrians on board, too.”

“You’re right. It must be on some sort of diplomatic mission, but I can’t imagine why they’ve come here.”

“You’d better run home and take a bath, Abba,” Nathan said, grinning. “They’ll never believe you’re one of Elephantine’s leading elders dressed like that.”

Joshua squeezed Nathan’s shoulder. “Keep a close eye on the Egyptian laborers until I get back.”

As he hurried home to bathe and change his clothes, Joshua tried to shake off the vague sense of foreboding that had sailed into his heart at the strange ship’s approach. Since returning from war several years ago, he had finally found peace and contentment for the first time since leaving Jerusalem, and he didn’t want anything to disturb it. He whispered a silent prayer that whatever this official mission might bring, it wouldn’t bring an end to the way of life he’d grown to accept.

Joshua had been much in demand on the island as an architect and builder in the years that followed the war, and he was especially proud to be in partnership with his son. A gifted sculptor, Nathan added the artistic flourishes and embellishments that set their work apart. Their distinctive building style earmarked most of Elephantine’s finest structures.

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.