The Chronicles of the Kings Collection by Lynn Austin

Author:Lynn Austin [Austin, Lynn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC042030, FIC042000, FIC026000
ISBN: 9781441229144
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2015-11-09T05:00:00+00:00

Part Three

After all that Hezekiah had so faithfully done, Sennacherib king of Assyria came and invaded Judah. He laid siege to the fortified cities, thinking to conquer them for himself.

2 Chronicles 32:1

19

The king of Babylon paced the length of the wharf, casting anxious glances at the cargo ship that stood loaded and waiting beside the canal. Only the sounds of croaking frogs and lapping water disturbed the warm, muggy night. As King Merodach-Baladan retraced his steps, scanning the darkened streets, the ship’s captain approached him warily.

“Your Majesty, we should cast off soon if you want to reach Basra before dawn.”

“Yes, yes—of course. Just a few more minutes. My officials should be here any—Ah, here they are now.” Torch lights bobbed toward him in the darkness, and as the figures drew closer, he recognized the pale, worried faces of his secretary of state and prime minister. “I’ll be ready to cast off in five minutes, Captain. Kindly tell my officials that I wish to speak with them alone.”

Merodach-Baladan moved into the shadows at the end of the wharf and waited. A few moments later, the two men edged nervously toward him. “Over here, gentlemen,” he called.

“Your Majesty?”

“Yes, it’s me. I’m sorry for all this secrecy in the dark of night, but as you’ll soon see, it was necessary.”

“What’s going on?”

“And why are you dressed like a peasant?”

The king glanced down at his coarse tunic, stained with sweat beneath the armpits, threadbare at the elbows. He leaned against a piling and sighed. “Because I’ve gambled and lost. I’m sorry, gentlemen, but our dream is finished.”

The prime minister’s melancholy eyes filled with apprehension. “What gamble? What on earth are you talking about?”

“The Assyrians are marching toward Babylon. They have more than a quarter of a million troops.”

The prime minister swayed as if his knees might give way.

“Obviously we’re not ready to withstand such a massive invasion,” the king continued, “so I have no choice but to surrender and submit to them.”

“What about our allies?” the secretary of state asked, his voice shaking. “Have you summoned them to help us?”

“There won’t be enough time. Besides, the Assyrians sent advance forces to seal off our borders. Our allies couldn’t get through to help us even if they wanted to.”

The prime minister looked as if he needed to sit down, but there was no place to sit. “How could this happen? Wasn’t there any warning?”

“None. I gambled that Sennacherib wouldn’t go on the offensive for another year, and I lost. I’d also hoped that he might go after our western allies first—or at least split his forces between two fronts—but he’s marching his entire army toward us.”

“A quarter of a million troops?” the secretary moaned.

“Yes. At least. We’ve lost, gentlemen. It’s over before it even starts. So rather than subject Babylon to a lengthy siege that we can’t possibly win . . .”

“You’re giving up?” The prime minister’s eyes widened.

The king shrugged. “There’s no other choice.”

“Did your military advisors agree to surrender?”

“I haven’t told them.”

“You would surrender without—”

“We could never mobilize enough men to match the Assyrian forces.

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