Pharaoh
Authors: Valerio Massimo Manfredi
T
O
M
ARCELLO
, M
ARZIA
, V
ALERIA AND
F
LAVIA
This novel was first published in Italian in February 1998, three years before the attack on the Twin Towers of September 11th, 2001.
‘And he said, Go forth, and stand upon the mount before the Lord. And, behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and brake in pieces the rocks before the Lord; but the Lord was not in the wind . . .’
I Kings 19:11
Jerusalem
On the ninth day of the fourth month in the eighteenth year of the reign of Nebuchadnezzar, King of Babylon
In the eleventh year of the reign of Zedekiah, King of Judah
T
HE PROPHET TURNED TOWARDS
the valley, overhung with the smoke of countless fires, then raised his eyes to the empty sky and sighed. Trenches surrounded Zion; battle rams and machines of siege threatened its walls. In the ravaged houses children cried, begging for bread, but there was no one left to break it for them. Those who once looked after them had been driven out onto the streets, consumed by hunger, only to collapse in the city squares.
‘It’s over,’ said the prophet, turning to his companion, who followed close behind him. ‘It’s over, Baruch. If the King doesn’t listen to me there will be no salvation for his House, nor for the House of God. I know I must try to convince him, but I’m afraid all hope has gone.’
As they made their way down deserted roads, the prophet stopped to let by a group of dry-eyed people transporting a coffin with a grim, quick step. The pale colour of the shroud that wrapped the corpse shone in the darkness. He watched them for a while as they scurried down the road leading to the cemetery the King had opened along the city walls which could no longer hold the cadavers that war and famine produced every day in such great numbers.
‘Prophet, why has the Lord our God chosen to uphold Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon and allow all the nations to suffer under his iron yoke?’ asked Baruch as they set forth again. ‘Why does He stand behind one who is already so strong?’
They were close to the palace now, near the Tower of David. The prophet walked into the open square and then glanced back as the moon rent an opening in the clouds and illuminated the silent mass of Solomon’s Temple. His sorrowful eyes beheld the moonlight touching the great columns, shining on the sea of bronze and on its golden pinnacles. He thought of the solemn rites which had been celebrated for so many centuries in that square, of the crowds that had thronged there on feast days, of the smoke of the sacrifices that had risen up to the Lord from its altars. He knew in his heart that it was all over, that the Temple was destined to lie abandoned and silent for many years or for many centuries, and he struggled to hold back his tears.
Baruch nudged him. ‘Rabbi, we must go. It’s late.’
T
HE
K
ING
was still awake, despite the late hour, and had called the heads of his army and his ministers to council. The prophet walked towards him and all turned at the sound of his cane striking the stone floor.
‘You asked to see me,’ said the King. ‘What do you have to say?’
‘Surrender,’ said the prophet, coming to a stop directly in front of him. ‘Dress in sackcloth, cover your head with ashes and leave the city barefoot. Prostrate yourself at your enemy’s feet and beg his pardon. The Lord has spoken to me, and He said, “I deliver my country to the hands of Nebuchadnezzar, King of Babylon, my servant, I deliver unto him even the cattle from my fields.” You have no choice, My King. Surrender to him and implore his clemency. Perhaps he will spare your family and perhaps he will spare the House of God.’
The King lowered his head and was silent. He was gaunt and pale, with dark, hollow circles under his eyes.
‘He is the heart of his nation,’ thought the prophet as he waited for Zedekiah’s response, ‘and he knows how numerous are the defences his people have raised to defend him: borders and garrisons, ramparts and forts. So when the enemy finally arrives at his door, his despair and his horror must know no bounds. His agony must be immense. Worse than that of the poorest and most humble of his subjects, who has always known he was naked.’
‘I will not surrender,’ said the King, raising his head. ‘I cannot believe that the Lord our God has truly spoken with you and has truly told you to deliver His people into the hands of a foreign tyrant, an idol-worshipper. I am more inclined to believe that it was a servant of the King of Babylon or the tyrant himself who spoke to you, and corrupted your heart. You speak out in favour of the enemy invader and against your own king, anointed by the Lord.’
‘You lie!’ the prophet cried in disdain. ‘Nebuchadnezzar put his trust in you. He made you the shepherd of his people in the land of Israel. It was you who betrayed him. You who plotted secretly with the Egyptians, who once held Israel in slavery!’
The King did not react to the prophet’s words. He turned towards the window and seemed to be listening to a low rumble of thunder. The clouds had clamped down on the walls of Zion and the Great Temple was now just a shadow in the dark. He wiped his damp brow with his hand while thunder crashed over the desert of Judah.
Total silence fell again, because there were no longer dogs or birds or any other animals in Jerusalem. Famine had devoured them all. And the women had been forbidden to weep for their dead so that the city would not resound with their perpetual wailing.
The King suddenly spoke. ‘We have always had to fight for the land the Lord has given us, crushed as we are between powerful enemies. A land continually torn from us and yet which we must perennially, desperately, reclaim as our own. And each time we must stain our hands with blood.’
The King’s face was as pale as a corpse’s, but his eyes seemed for a moment to burn with his dreams. ‘If He had given us another place, remote and secure, laden with fruit and with cattle, protected by the mountains and unknown to the other nations of the earth, would I have had to plot with the Pharaoh? Would I have needed his help to free my people from the yoke of Babylon? Answer me!’ he demanded. ‘And be quick, because time has run out.’
The prophet looked at him and saw that all was lost. ‘I have nothing more to say to you,’ he replied. ‘The task of a true prophet is to invoke peace. But you dare to challenge the will of the Lord. You pretend to tempt the Lord your God! Farewell, Zedekiah. You have refused to listen to me and thus darkness will henceforth mark your way.’
He turned to his companion and said, ‘Let us go, Baruch. There are no ears here for my words.’
The King listened to the sound of the prophet’s cane tapping away through the pillared atrium and dissolving into silence. He looked at his counsellors and saw the terror in their eyes, the exhaustion brought on by their long vigil.
‘The time has come,’ he said. ‘We can wait no longer. Put into action the plan that we’ve prepared. Assemble the army in the utmost silence. Hand out the last rations, for the men will need all their energy.’
At that moment, an officer of the guard appeared. ‘King,’ he said, ‘the breach is nearly open. A unit under Ethan’s command is about to leave from the eastern gate to make a sally as planned and divert the enemy’s attention. It’s time.’
Zedekiah nodded. He took off his royal mantle and put on his armour, hanging his sword at his hip. ‘We shall go now,’ he said.
He was followed by the queen mother, Hamutal, his wives, his eunuchs, his sons Eliel, Achis and Amasai, and the chiefs of his army.
They descended the stairs to the women’s quarters and from there entered the palace garden. A group of stone-cutters had nearly finished opening a breach in the wall near the pool of Siloah and two men had been sent out to explore the area to make sure that their passage would be unhindered.
The King waited for the last stones to be removed and was the first to go through. From the valley rose a hot, dry wind that had crossed the desert and he leaned back for a moment against the stones of the wall, trying to overcome the anguish that was suffocating him. The officers hurriedly ushered out the others, directing them to sheltered positions behind the rocks.
In the distance a trumpet blast suddenly sounded, followed by the clash of battle. Ethan had attacked the Babylonian siege line and horns blared throughout the valley to call Nebuchadnezzar’s men to the ranks. King Zedekiah felt encouraged: perhaps the sacrifice of his men would not be in vain, and he would be able to pass the enemy lines unharmed and reach the desert, where he would be safe. Shortly after, a light flashed down in the valley, swinging three times to the right and three times to the left.
‘The signal, finally!’ said the army commander. ‘The way is clear. We can proceed.’
The password was relayed to the other officers, so they in turn could instruct their soldiers. The order for departure was given.
The King marched at the centre of the line and with him his oldest sons: Eliel, his firstborn, who was twelve, and Achis, who was nine. The youngest, Amasai, was only five, and the King’s aide-de-camp carried him in his arms to keep him from crying and alerting any enemy spies in the vicinity to their flight.
They reached the bottom of the valley and the commander turned his ear towards the east. ‘Ethan fights on,’ he said. ‘Perhaps we will be safe after all. May the Lord give him strength and give strength to the heroes fighting at his side. Onward now, quickly. We have to move as fast as we can.’