Word Fulfilled, The (24 page)

Thirty-one

Nineveh, the Artisan’s Quarter

Thirteenth Day of Du’ûzu

onah roused before daybreak from a night that offered little rest. Fragments of the Council meeting still littered his dreams, and a morass of worry sucked at his spirit.

The Council had convened twenty days earlier. The tumultuous meeting broke up with a consensus to carry
Adonai’s
message to the city, but with a broad range of mixed belief and emotions. Jonah couldn’t blame them. Nineveh had become the only home many of them had ever known. The generation that lived through the exile had nearly passed away, and personal knowledge of the Promised Land passed with them. Their children and grandchildren carried only secondhand memories of Jerusalem and the Temple through stories handed down from their parents. They honored their homeland through prayers and tithes, but more out respect to their parents than through any fervor of their own. For them, Israel became a land of revered mystery, a legend.

But Nineveh was known, familiar. It was home. And now the God of Israel intended to destroy it—or so said this odd, white-haired stranger. Reactions ran through the gamut of emotions.

“Nonsense! What has the God of Israel to do with Nineveh?”

“Are we being punished for adopting this heathen land over the land of our forefathers?”

“Are we to die with the heathens, or will God spare His chosen people, from His wrath?”

Despite formal agreement among the elders, the message seemed to have stalled. Of course, there had been a few responses. Word came that some families had packed and left the city, as Lot and his family left Sodom before its destruction. Others conducted purification rituals as true signs of repentance—what details they could remember of them without the guidance of a formal priesthood. But from most of them, there was silence. Confusion, skepticism, uncertainty of expectations, ignorance of how to repent, all took their toll. Twenty days had now passed, already half the time allotted for the city to repent.

Jonah knew from his experience six years earlier that, even in the face of serious odds,
Adonai
would see to His word, and that it would yield the desired results. Of that he was certain. It was the desired result itself about which he was less certain. Had God intended to destroy the city all along? Why send a message to the people to repent if their fate was already sealed?

Members of the Council had grilled Jonah over the past few days with questions like these and many others, and he found himself woefully short of answers. All he could tell them was that the city needed to repent. His responsibility and theirs stopped when the message was delivered. He said the rest was up to
Adonai
, which was completely true, but emotionally unsatisfying. Most of the elders left with grumbles on their tongues.

Word of the prophet spread through the Assyrian population, as well, but with less impact. Assyria was a land of many gods, so to absorb one more presented little problem for anyone. Of course, the message of destruction was unsettling, but that was a matter for the
Igigi
to sort out with this new god. It had little to do with them.

That is, until news of the king’s delegation spread through the city. Their mission, and the omens that prompted it, crashed in on their comfortable world and threw all but the most irreligious into turmoil.

“Sin has dimmed in the skies?”

“Nin Ur has shaken Kal
ḫ
u?”

“Marduk has killed a
baru
?”

“What? They seek a substitute king?”

Now things were serious. First came news that a new god threatened the city with annihilation. Then their own gods sent ominous signs of discontent through the heavens and the earth. Those who had heard of the intrigue at Ishtar’s temple, of the sudden death of the High Priestess and hurried ascension of an unexpected replacement, added this event to the list of worrisome signs. Now the king took drastic measures to avert their wrath from his own head. What wrath? What did he know that they didn’t? Were the gods at war with this new god, or was their discontent directed at the people of Assyria? They heard that the
Igigi
refused any revelation to the
muhhu
diviners. Only this new god offered any remedy or gave them any hope to escape the wrath. All they needed to do was repent, whatever that meant.

The Jews who spread the message through the city said their god was angered by the city’s evil. What evil? The Ninevites were just being themselves. They acted the same as they had for centuries. What was this new standard against which they were being measured, one that judged them to be evil? How were they to know the exact things of which to repent?

Quarter by quarter, news of the omens, the substitute king, and the prophet’s fateful declaration spread through the city. It gained momentum with each hour that passed. As the word fanned out, questions over details went unanswered. Speculation resulted and spawned embellishments. The embellishments birthed mutations of the message, which, when they rebounded and collided in the marketplace and over evening meals, produced more confusion. Confusion led to fear. Fear to paralysis.

Lll

Hiram burst through the front door, shattering the late-morning quiet. Jonah had just fielded a fresh list of questions from a small group of elders and was at rest. He jolted at his host’s entrance. Jamin emerged quickly from a back room.

“You’ve got to do something. This is out of control.”

Jonah rose to his feet. “What do you mean?”

“The whole city is in an uproar. No one knows what to do. I was nearly trampled in the marketplace by people who wanted to know about this god, and why he was going to overflow the Idiqlat River and swamp the city.” Hiram leaned against the doorframe to catch his breath.

“Who said anything about a flood?” Jonah asked.

“Oh, that’s not the only story around the city. Some people ask if the invading Urutian army has been spotted yet; some wonder when Ishtar became this god’s consort and if she’s in on this. Still others hope the
ugu lugal
can repent for all of us.”

Jonah shook his head. “What is an
ugu lugal?”

Hiram waved his hands. “Never mind that now. The point is, you have to get out there and address this. There will be no repentance if the people don’t understand what to do. There are too many rumors and not enough answers.”

Jamin spoke up. “I’ll go with you. I know the city. We need to find a place to speak where it will have the most impact.”

Hiram nodded his agreement. “The marketplace is a shambles. You’ll never be heard there.”

“The temple plaza.” Jamin’s voice was subdued.

Hiram shook his head. “Surely you’re not serious, Nephew. The bastion of paganism is no place to pronounce the word of
Adonai
.
”

Jamin gave his uncle a serious look. “That’s exactly where the word of God should be heard, Uncle. The people think the omens are part of this prophecy. Complicity by false gods with the intent of the true God settles in their minds. We need to stand in the midst of their sanctuaries and expose them for exactly what they are: idols, impotent before
Elohim Adonai
. We must separate them from the message, or they will only gain legitimacy in the eyes of the people. Then the confusion over repentance—over what and to whom—will be all the greater.”

Hiram appeared thoughtful.

Jamin pleaded with him. “Uncle, there’s no other place. You said yourself the marketplace is in turmoil. We need to send messengers to the marketplace first, then as far throughout the city as we can. The prophet of
Adonai
will speak in the temple square. It’s not as large as the marketplace, nor as open, but it’s large enough. The cluster of buildings in the temple plaza might even help contain the crowd.”

“Contain the crowd?” Jonah asked.

Hiram paused in thought, then nodded. “You’re right. I’ll have the elders—as many as I can find—spread the word that the prophet will speak in the temple square today at the twelfth hour. That will give us time to get the word out. It will also leave only a short time then until nightfall. That should help subdue any severe reaction by the crowd.”

Jonah paled. “Severe reaction?”

Hiram set his face. “We haven’t much time. Have Jonah on the steps of Nabu’s temple before the twelfth hour.”

Jamin retreated to the back room to leave Jonah with his thoughts and to deal with thoughts of his own. The aftermath of Jonah’s prophecy had left him no time to seek out the girl. The few times he did pass the plaza, he never caught sight of her. Once or twice, he spotted groups of priestesses on the portico, but her distinctive figure did not show itself among them.

Never far from the front of his mind, though, was the quandary of how to get close to her, how to talk to her. If Nineveh was to meet its fate at the hands of
Elohim Adonai
, he must spirit her away from the city to save her from certain death. As a plan formulated in his mind, he pushed away the guilt that came with it.

His advice about the merits of the temple square as the best place for Jonah’s address was true. The hope flowered in his mind even as he spoke, though, that a commotion such as the one the prophet was sure to raise would draw attention away from the priestesses, who would surely emerge from the temple. If he could edge through the crowd, he could watch for her. Then he could slip up behind her, appeal to her, and convince her to leave.

For her own safety.

With him.

He would have to face the problem of exactly what to say when the opportunity arose. He just hoped he’d be able to spot her in the crowd. Right now, he needed to deal with the twinge of guilt he felt at leading his uncle along with an ulterior motive of his own.

Lll

Hiram managed to reach half the elders through their families by the sixth hour. The messengers dove into the crowd at the marketplace and spread the news of the prophet’s pronouncement. Excitement mounted as the word went throughout the city. The streets filled with men, women, and children streaming toward the temple square from every direction.

News of the rising pandemonium reached both the Temple of Ishtar and Adad-Nirari’s new palace at the same time.

Thirty-two

Nineveh, the Temple Plaza

Thirteenth Day of Du’ûzu, the Twelfth Hour

onah and Jamin hurried past the Mashki Gate and pressed through the shadows of the city wall. People passed them on the road to the temple plaza, but those who saw him did not recognize the prophet in the subdued light. When they reached the path behind Nabu’s temple, Jamin pulled Jonah aside.

“This leads around the back of the temple. There’s a niche behind a statue where we can wait until it’s time.”

Jonah puffed from his efforts to keep up with the younger man. “You seem . . . to know the area well.”

Jamin nodded grimly. “Yes. I know the area.”

He led the way as the two men hugged the wall of the temple and slipped around the corner to the cranny behind the statue. From there they could see the crowd amass in the temple square. Families struggled to stay together as the multitude swelled into every empty space. Some fathers lifted their children to their shoulders to protect them from being trampled. A few boys climbed onto the fountain at the plaza’s center and reveled in all the excitement. The throng began to surge up the steps of the temples, in search of some vantage point to see and hear the prophet. As the mass bulged toward the steps of Ishtar’s temple, the portico came alive with pastel tunics. Priestesses swarmed down the steps in a vain effort to hold the crowd back from their sacred shrine.

Jamin glanced at Jonah. Even in the shadows, he could make out the prophet’s worried look. He began to wonder if this was such a good idea. What if Jonah wasn’t up to it? His bent shoulders didn’t inspire much confidence. Indeed, he seemed to shrink into his robe. Would his thin voice even be heard over the crowd? Jamin began to scramble for an alternative plan, just in case, but the activity on the steps of Ishtar’s temple across the road cut his thoughts short. He squinted into the mass of priestess and sought the splay of black hair and petite form of the girl he loved.

The girl he loved
.

He had expressly denied himself even the tacit voicing of that fact, but now it thrust past his emotional defenses and planted itself in the forefront of his mind. The phrase heated his forehead and pumped new fervor into his suppressed feelings. The strained looks of admonishment and defiance he and the girl exchanged at their last encounter, his frustration at the hopelessness of the situation and her apparent apathy toward it, did nothing to subdue his heart. She frustrated him, allured him, repulsed him, and melted him. He simply loved her. And he still didn’t know why. The mental image of her face launched his heart into his throat, and his stomach ached more than ever.

He shook his head in an effort to dislodge the warring emotions that tore at his mind. They presented a distraction he couldn’t afford, not now. He faced a critical situation that affected his life, the lives of his loved ones, and countless others in the great city. He had to focus. But the unbidden emotions battled hard for survival. They refused to subside, impervious to every effort he could muster against them. So he gritted his teeth, swallowed past his love-sick heart, and tightened his stomach against the titillating nausea.

And he searched for her again.

“I thought you might be here.” Uncle Hiram’s voice jolted Jamin from his thoughts.

“Oh, Uncle.” Jamin looked over his shoulder at the older man, who was inspecting Jonah. Hiram looked as concerned for the prophet as Jamin felt.

“Jonah, are you all right?” Hiram gripped Jonah’s shoulder.

“Yes. I’m . . . yes.”

Jamin reckoned Jonah’s face seemed a shade paler than the last time he looked, if that were possible.

Hiram nodded. “It’s time.”

Lll

The urgent knock echoed through Ianna’s chamber and roused her from her thoughts. She stood and donned her ceremonial cap.

“Enter!”

Thura, the
naditu
in attendance at the chamber of the High Priestess, stepped halfway through the doorway, protocol forgotten in the midst of worry.

“The situation worsens, High Priestess.”

“Worsens?”

“People now fill the plaza. We tried to clear the portico, but we cannot keep the crowd back.” Thura threw an anxious look back over her shoulder.

Ianna frowned. “So, the rumors of the prophet’s appearance in the plaza are true.”

“Yes, High Priestess. They appear to be.”

“Very well. I will be along shortly.”

Thura disappeared. In her haste she forgot to close the door.

Ianna retrieved the ceremonial staff lying on the dais. She took one step toward the door but stopped short at bolts of pain that arced over her brain. She staggered and grabbed her head. Her eyes flickered under their clenched lids.

“Tread carefully. The prophet must be stopped, but you—”

Ianna shook her head and forced her eyes open. She cringed at the burning in her head. “Stop it! Leave me! I know what to do,” she sputtered between clenched teeth.

Their grip tightened and fought to hold, but the High Priestess bore every ounce of will she could muster against them. “Leave me!”

The tentacles snapped back over her brain. A trail of serrated claw marks scored her mind and left a dull ache behind her eyes. She set her jaw.

I know what to do!

Lll

Ahu-duri paused in his dictation. He raised a finger to the scribe who sat poised with his waxed board.

“What is it, Kaheri?”

The aide gasped for breath. “The crowd, my lord. It grows. The temple plaza overflows.”

The vizier frowned. “Are they unruly?”

Kaheri shook his head. “No riot has been reported, my lord. But tension builds. The rumored prophet is to speak soon. There is no way to tell how the mob will react.”

Ahu-duri nodded. He dismissed the scribe and rose to his feet. “Assemble a squad of soldiers. I want to hear what this so-called prophet has to say.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Lll

The murmur of the crowd swelled as the three men stepped from behind the statue of Nabu. People shifted and jostled for a better view of the celebrated prophet. Jamin and Hiram guided Jonah to the center of the portico that overlooked the plaza. Jonah surveyed the sea of faces and closed his eyes.

Hiram leaned toward him and whispered, “The elders and others have spread out through the crowd. They will translate what you say for the many who do not speak Hebrew. Speak slowly. Give them a chance to interpret and the people a chance to comprehend.”

Jonah did not respond. He stood motionless, his lips voicing a silent prayer:
Lord God of Hosts, I am beyond my ability. Calm my fears,
Elohim Adonai
, for they are as great as I am small. Steady my heart; it threatens to burst in my chest. Grant me the words to say, as You did before the king in Samaria. Make the people receptive. The message is Yours. Hide me behind it. May Your word accomplish Your will.

Jonah opened his eyes. The crowd quieted until not a whisper or shuffle of feet could be heard. He scanned the multitude. Every eye bore into his face; every ear bent toward his lips.

He took a deep breath. “People of Nineveh, you know from ancient lore of the cities of the plain, of Sodom and Gomorrah.”

A brief murmur rippled through the crowd as the elders repeated his words in Assyrian.

“You have heard of those great cities being destroyed by fire, by brimstone that rained from heaven.”

The commotion increased as some in the crowd began to connect his words with the rumors they had already heard about their own city.

“Their destruction came as punishment for their iniquity. They were lovers of idols, violent and immoral in their treatment of each other.” Jonah paused to allow the people to assimilate his words. When the murmurs of the elders ceased, he continued, “Their destruction came at the hands of the one God, the true God, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.
Elohim Adonai
, the Lord God of Hosts, sole Creator of Heaven and Earth.”

The murmurings arose at this proclamation of one God. For millennia their culture had created and taught a pantheon of gods, many of whom played active roles in the creation of the heavens, the earth, and man. Yet, they had also heard of the cities of the plain. But this was the first they’d learned of a single God who had delivered the cities’ destruction. The notion of one all-powerful God was a strange one.

Jonah waited for calm to reclaim the crowd. He surveyed the assembly before he delivered his crucial point. “This same God has turned His eyes toward Nineveh.”

The murmurs billowed to a roar. Bewilderment, disbelief, fear, and anger all swept through the assembly. The interpreters bore the brunt of the backlash. The pagan Ninevites pushed and shouted down the Jews among them. More than one elder suffered jabs to the body.

Jonah lifted his arms for calm. The noise subsided as people pointed toward the prophet, and their curiosity overcame their anger. Jamin and Hiram exchanged nervous glances, ready to whisk Jonah away at the next sign of serious trouble.

“I know you wonder why such a fate should befall Nineveh. The answer is simple. You share the transgressions of the cities of the plain.”

More grumbles rolled through the mob.

Jonah’s voice found new strength. “Nineveh is known for its wrongful dealings, even among her sister cities. Your army is notorious for its wanton atrocities, senseless destruction, and mercilessness.” His voice cracked in remembrance of his own experience in the Jezreel Valley. “And,” he gestured around the plaza with his arms, “the temples you have raised in this very square are sufficient testament to your idolatry. Therefore, you will share the fate of the cities of the plain.”

He expected another outburst from the crowd, but there was only stunned silence. He could see seething frustration on the faces of those gathered nearest, anger that had not yet found its voice. He took advantage of the moment of quiet. “But all is not lost. There remains a chance for you to escape this fate.”

The tension vented and left an uneasy silence over the crowd.

Jonah’s voice rose to a fever pitch.
“Elohim Adonai
will forestall His judgment over your city if you repent and turn from your evil ways. You must abandon your idolatry. You must denounce the false gods you have created and proclaim Him the One True God. Tear down these temples! Fall on your face before Him, if you hope to live.”

The anger found its voice and exploded in a roar.

“What? Tear down our temples?”

“Who does he think he is? We know of no such god!”

“What proof is there of what he says?”

“Ashur will protect us! No one is greater than Ashur!”

Those elders too slow to evade were shoved to the ground and forced to shield their heads from punches and kicks. Others managed to escape to the fringes, where they cowered behind statues and around corners of the temples. Those closest to Nabu’s shrine surged toward the steps. Hiram and Jamin slipped to Jonah’s side and grasped his arms.