Unspoken Read Free Page B

he dragged her up by her arm and shook her violently. “Fight me and I’ll drag you to your death!” He sent her flying into the line of women and children.
    Sobbing, her mother quickly loosened the rope and clasped her close. “Bathsheba! Oh, Bathsheba!”
    Bathsheba coughed violently and wretched and dragged in a full, painful breath. “David will—” Her mother clapped a hand over her mouth and shushed her. She’d never seen terror in her mother’s face before this day.
    The Amalekite guard turned on her. “No talking!”
    The women and older children were tied and led away. Younger children were carried. The band of raiders and captives walked for hours, the midday heat bearing down hard upon the women and children, who were given only enough water to keep them going. They stopped as the sun was setting. Most of the women collapsed, too tired even to whimper. Each captive was given a handful of parched grain.
    Bathsheba ate ravenously, but her stomach still ached with hunger. Her neck was bruised and burned from the rope. Her throat hurt from the hard yank she’d received early that day. Her feet were raw from walking across dusty, rocky ground. Her body ached all over. When she began to cry, her mother pulled her close and shared her body warmth as the moon and stars appeared and the temperature plummeted.
    “I’m afraid, Mother.” Bathsheba cried softly.
    Her mother stroked her hair back from her sunburned face. “It does no good to cry. We need to save our strength for whatever lies ahead.”
    “David will come looking for us, won’t he?”
    “We will pray that he and your father return quickly.” She held Bathsheba tighter. Bathsheba felt her mother trembling and asked no more questions. “Pray, my daughter. Pray hard.”
    And Bathsheba did. David, oh, David, come and find us. Come and save us!
    The Amalekites kept the women on the move, hastening them toward a future of slavery, prostitution, and death. Exhausted, the women and children collapsed each night, too bone weary to cause their captors trouble of any kind. After the first two nights, they were left unbound while the men sat around the campfire, drinking and laughing. No guards watched over them. There was no need after so many miles of travel.
    When the sun rose and set on the third day, hope waned.

    Bathsheba awakened abruptly to the sound of battle cries. The air around her reverberated with shouts and screams. Confused and terrified, she tried to rise, but her mother grabbed her. “Stay down!” She pulled her back and down as a nearby Amalekite grabbed for his sword. He fell back with a scream, his arm severed, and then his head as well. Horrified, Bathsheba looked up at the attacking warrior who jumped across the lifeless body. Her father’s friend Uriah! Shouting his battle cry, he charged on. If Uriah was here, surely her father was also, and her grandfather.
    “Abba!” Bathsheba screamed. “Abba!”
    The Amalekites fell back and tried to run, but they were cut down without mercy by avenging fathers, husbands, and brothers. Bathsheba saw Ittai the Gittite hack, from shoulder to sternum, the guard who had choked her. The roar of battle was terrifying. Israelites cried out in wrath; Amalekites screamed in terror. The clash of swords and thunder of men’s feet were all around her as she cowered against her mother.
    And then it was over. As quickly as it had started, it ended, and the silence was a shock. The bloodied bodies of the Amalekite raiders lay sprawled around the camp, while the men left standing were no less terrifying in their stained garments, their hands and arms and weapons splashed with red.
    Bathsheba heard David call out, “Ahinoam! Abigail!” Other men cried out names as well, searching for their wives and children.
    “Here! I’m here!” women cried back. All was still in confusion.
    “Eliam!” Her mother let go of her and ran into her father’s arms, sobbing against his chest.
    “Bathsheba,” he