Chapter One Preview 

BABYLONIAN HORDES SURROUNDED the palace, hellbent on destruction. Starved and depleted due to the eighteen-month blockade, the Judean army crumpled before this juggernaut like a brittle autumn leaf. Princess Tephi, the eldest daughter of King Zedekiah, huddled in the corner of her bedchamber, a little sister under each arm and a blanket draped over them. Whatever faith she clung to evaporated as another war cry ripped through the night. Ignoring the wailings beyond her window, the smoke billowing overhead, the clashes of swords in the streets, proved impossible. Tephi would die here, with her sisters, trembling like a coward.

Where is he, Yahweh, the mighty God of Israel? Simply a bedtime story? Tephi wondered, pulling the blanket taut.

“Where is father?” eleven-year-old Ofri whimpered.

Tephi dared not utter the answer, but her heart knew the terrible truth. Just as Israel’s heavenly father had abandoned them, so had her earthly father. King Zedekiah ordered the woman of the court, even his own daughters, to shut themselves in their chambers. When the horrific sounds of the siege began, Tephi rushed to her window in time to see her father and brothers sneak away in the night through the King’s Garden. What became of them, she did not know, but the Chaldean soldiers, champions in King Nebuchadnezzar’s army, pursued. Surely, her father would be overtaken.

Slaughtered warriors lay in the streets like Passover lambs. Shrieks from ravaged women and guttural sobs from traumatized children chorused through the fallen city. Sounds inside the breached palace generated greater terror. The enemy drew near. With nowhere to run, Tephi resorted to prayer. Whether to Yahweh, or Ba’al, or one of the many Grecian or Egyptian gods, Tephi did not care. She petitioned anyone who would give ear.

When the doors of her chambers banged open, she shut her eyes, hoping for a swift death. Horrific rape and torture terrified her more than Sheol, the grave.

Let their swords be swift, she thought, eyes clenched tight.

“Princess Tephi, you must come with me!”

In some shadowy memory Tephi recognized the raspy voice, but amid her turmoil, how could she recall the owner? Opening tear-blurred eyes, she spied the most peculiar rescuer. There stood Jeremiah, the prophet of Yahweh. Certainly no warrior, his wrinkled frame resembled a gnarled shrub instead of a strong cedar.

“My lady, we must be away. The Babylonians will discover you here,” Jeremiah urged.

Whichever god answered her prayer, it mattered little. Nor did it matter this crazy old man came to her aid. At least someone had come. Keeping the blanket over her sisters, Tephi followed the prophet as he hurried down the corridor.

Bangs, crashes, and screams in the opposite direction indicated the deathly terrors behind. Ahead, Tephi kept her eyes locked on Jeremiah’s grey cloak as he led them with surprising speed.

“Where are you taking us?” Alma asked with a hint of annoyance. At thirteen-years-old, Tephi’s middle sister exuded brashness.

“There are tunnels under the palace leading to the Temple,” Jeremiah replied.

“The Temple!” Tephi exclaimed. “Are you mad? Babylon’s warriors are sure to plunder the Temple.”

“They will not find us.” Jeremiah’s tone brokered no argument, and Tephi’s rebuttal fell silent from her lips.

What good would come from quarrelling? Jeremiah may be an ancient fool, but at least he was here. Although, he probably should have abandoned her too. She ignored the prophet’s preaching like all the rest of Jerusalem. She heard him in the streets and at the Temple, beckoning the people to return to Yah’s ways and stop participating in pagan traditions, “traditions of men” as he likened it. He warned the people that Yahweh would forsake them and now Jerusalem burned. Was this what the prophet foresaw?

Jeremiah stopped suddenly, and Tephi nearly careened into his back. He held a finger against his lips, urging silence. Chaldean soldiers lurked in the adjoining passageway. Evidently, Jeremiah wanted to continue straight, but the soldiers in the left-hand corridor progressed on a path to intercept. Tephi shrank behind Jeremiah in a feeble attempt to hide. Ofri whimpered, and Tephi grasped her hand while Alma clung to Tephi’s blanket. The foolish thought of covering her sisters with it entered Tephi’s mind, as if the blanket could camouflage them from those brutish Chaldeans.

The soldiers’ voices rumbled like growling lions. Their stench of sweat and blood mingled with the smoke from war fires caused Tephi to wrinkle her nose in disgust. They possessed no uniformity in their gait. Instead of smooth, rhythmic steps, the Chaldeans stomped like loose cattle as they neared the intersecting passageways.

Shuddering from fear, Tephi glanced at Jeremiah. An unexpected, peaceful expression softened his lined face. With his eyes closed he might be mistaken for sleeping, except his lips moved quickly. Was the old man praying?

Whether from sheer luck or divine intervention, a yell came from the far end of the passage the soldiers occupied. The Chaldeans immediately about-faced and stalked off in the opposite direction. Tephi released the expansive breath she unknowingly held.

“We must make haste,” Jeremiah ordered.

“How did… did your prayers stop the soldiers?”

“Call unto me and I will answer you and will tell you great and hidden things that you have not known.”

Tephi stared at the old man in disbelief, trying to process the cryptic reply.

The meager flock moved along the darkened corridor again and, much to Tephi’s horror, they scrambled over fallen bodies of slain palace workers. Not wanting to recognize a soul, she averted her eyes from their faces. She especially wished to avoid discovering the fate of her beloved handmaiden, Bathba, but most of the corpses they crossed were male.

After a few more hurried steps, the corridor came to an abrupt dead end.

Trapped like rats. Not much of a prophet, is he? Tephi thought, trying to slow her frantic breaths.

Without hesitation, Jeremiah grabbed the edge of the elaborate tapestry decorating the wall. Pulling it back, he revealed a hidden door.

“A secret passage!” Ofri exclaimed. Her voice trembled with a mixture of fear and delight. Despite the terrors of their flight, Tephi smiled at her littlest sister’s enthusiasm.

The moment of levity vanished as Jeremiah unceremoniously ushered them through the door. Blackness pervaded the scene. Seeing her sisters proved impossible, let alone anything beyond. When Jeremiah closed the door behind them, the darkness blanketed thick enough to touch.

“We keep moving,” Jeremiah ordered.

Tephi startled as a cold, wrinkled hand grasped hers, but she calmed, realizing Jeremiah shepherded her along. Blindly reaching behind her, she found a sister’s hand. As a human chain, the quartet edged its way forward.

The darkness made gauging how far they traveled an impossibility, and the tunnel sloped steadily downward. They repeatedly stumbled on jutting rocks, but still they walked ever onward. The caverns, though terrifying in their blackness, granted a reprieve from the horrors above. The sounds of war still reached their ears, but its potency dulled by the thick stone walls.

After wandering in the gloom for an indistinguishable amount of time, a dim light shone ahead. It felt like hours to reach, but, eventually, they entered the gentle flicker of a single torch nestled in an iron wall sconce. The faint light illuminated a hollow roughly the size of Tephi’s bedchamber. Only a few features of the cave could be discerned in the scant lighting, but the item resting against the far wall could not be mistaken.

Tephi gaped at the relic. Did her mind play tricks or did tangible power radiate from the golden curio?

“Is that…?” Her question trailed off from shear awe.

“Indeed,” Jeremiah replied, voice brimming with reverence.

They were in the presence of the Ark of the Covenant.

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