Song of Redemption Read Free

no!” she screamed. “Abba, help me! Save me!”
    Jerusha struggled to free herself, but the soldier held her down, pressing his hand against her back. She managed to lift her head as the horse wheeled around and saw her father running toward them. Then she heard the soft swish of metal as her captor unsheathed his sword. She remembered the blood and horror of Uncle Saul’s severed hand and shouted, “Abba, no! Stay back!”
    The Assyrian leaned sideways in his saddle and slashed out toward Abba with his sword. Jerusha saw a crimson gash appear across her father’s forehead, and he sank to his knees, his face covered with blood. Then he disappeared from her sight as the horse pounded up the road, away from the village.
    Jerusha screamed as the horse sped faster and faster, away from the village of Dabbasheth, away from her family and safety. They galloped for several minutes, then the horse slowed and the soldier slapped Jerusha, shouting angrily at her in his strange language. When she didn’t stop screaming, he struck her again and again until she finally stifled her cries. She felt numb with pain and fear.
    “I don’t want to die—please, I don’t want to die,” she whimpered. A few minutes later they stopped near a grove of sycamore trees beside a farmer’s field. Several other horses were already tethered there, and Jerusha heard muffled screams and coarse laughter coming from among the bushes. Her heart pounded with a new terror as she realized what was about to happen.
    “No … no … please don’t,” she sobbed. The soldier dismounted and pulled Jerusha off the horse, throwing her over his shoulder like a sack of grain. As he carried her into the woods, she saw her cousin Serah fighting with all her strength against the soldier who was trying to pin her to the ground. When Serah wouldn’t stop struggling, the soldier beat her with his fists until she no longer moved.
    Jerusha knew it would be useless to fight. The blows her captor had already given her throbbed painfully. She wanted to live through this nightmare and find her way home, so she decided not to struggle. Jerusha knew it was the right decision, but she couldn’t make herself stop crying. Her terrified screams blended with all the others until the woods echoed with the sound. Even the wind seemed to shriek with fear.
    Finally Jerusha’s captor halted and threw her to the ground. The smell of his unwashed body made her gag. She turned her face in revulsion, and he slapped her again, yelling at her angrily.
    “Oh, God … I don’t want to die,” she sobbed. “Not now, not like this. Please, God, please—I don’t want to die!”

2
    In the southern kingdom of Judah
    K ING H EZEKIAH LET HIS GRANDFATHER lean on his arm for support as they slowly walked down the hill from the palace. The sound of grinding hand mills and the smoke of earlymorning fires filled the air around them, stirring memories for Hezekiah of another morning walk with his grandfather years earlier. It seemed a lifetime ago. Yet in the short time since he had been reunited with Zechariah, the bonds of love between them had been rewoven as if no time had passed at all.
    Hezekiah’s robes billowed in the brisk spring wind, and the gray sky threatened rain as they neared the Water Gate. “Are you sure you don’t want to turn around and go back inside?” he asked Zechariah. “Maybe it isn’t such a good idea to recite our prayers out here.”
    “Yes, I’m sure. Don’t forget—once the Temple is purified, we’ll be praying outside every morning in all sorts of weather. Even the rare snowstorm.”
    “I guess that’s true dedication,” Hezekiah said, laughing. He acknowledged the guards who bowed to him as he passed through the gate, then he and his grandfather started down the steep ramp that led out of the city.
    Zechariah seemed unchanged to Hezekiah. Of course he had aged, his movements slowing, his hair and beard changing from gray to white. And now Hezekiah