PROLOGUE

Isaiah 62:6 I have set watchmen upon thy walls, O Jerusalem, which shall never hold their peace day nor night: ye that make mention of the LORD, keep not silence,

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There are two equal and opposite errors into which our race can fall about the devils. One is to disbelieve in their existence. The other is to believe, and to feel an excessive and unhealthy interest in them. They themselves are equally pleased by both errors, and hail a materialist and a magician with the same delight.
--C.S. Lewis

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The desperation imprinted on her face was almost tangible, projecting her pain directly into my heart. Her ebony eyes almost penetrated the door on which her gaze fixated. Tears glistened and slithered like a snake down her porcelain cheeks. Not even for a second did her gaze shift from the door, even after it had banged with a finalizing slam. The only movement from her that offered proof that she was not just a beautiful, tragic statue, was the hand she lifted to her still flaming cheek. It flared red, with a distinct imprint of another’s enormous hand. No, it was not the first time he had left a mark, his mark on her, but it seemed at least that it would be the last. Of course this gave he no consolation. She would have taken any pain inflicted by him because in her heart she so illogically loved him. Her very worth was defined by him.
Her window displayed all of this, her apartment was on the first floor directly across from the park I often frequented. She had no curtains to hinder my view, her life played out before me like a horrid movie for which I longed to end happily. I sighed, wondering if today would be the day I could step forward and intervene. The enemy had stormed, ravaged and shattered her soul enough, it was broken now beyond repair. Her faith had once been able to move mountains, if she so desired, the purity of it had been like a child’s. But now, she couldn’t even pick herself up, and she dared not implore heaven for shame weighed down each weak attempt.
Johan had promised her much, but gave her nothing but debilitating doubt.
“I’m leaving you.” he had said. Just like that, no explanation. Her heart’s demise had taken less then a few seconds. Having said his piece, he turned his back and left her to reel from shock. Everything had been given and sacrificed for him, including friends, job, faith, all of it, and now she was nothing but an empty vessel.
Having been her silent neighbor I knew it had been inevitable that it would all crumble. This dark haired beauty had compromised and now she found herself alone, with no reason to go on. But she was wrong, I would always be here, I’ve always been close by, and God-willing I would help her find her way back. I determined this pearl would not be one to be tossed to the swine.
This day the sun shone deceptively as if all was right in the world. It had begun as a perfect day to sit in the park and absorb each word of my book, and of course observe. Always, patiently I would observe, knowing the time to act would come. Still, I had my doubts of the outcome. Reluctantly I set aside my copy of Jerusalem’s Undead Trilogy, the world in the book completely captivating me. I wondered if the author, Eric Wilson realized how eerily accurate the world he had created was to this world we lived in.
I sighed, as if sighing could lift my burdens. When desperation as paramount as this filled another human being, every inch of me felt it. It was a curse, or was it a blessing--feeling each cutting emotion as if it was my own. But it didn’t end there, if it did perhaps I could bear it with more ease, but my eyes had perfect vision, so much so that I saw what most humans were completely blind and ignorant of.
My heart picked up its pace at what was unfolding in her apartment. I could see her rummaging through her drawers, looking, looking but thank God her search turned up empty. Even so she became more and more weak as each second ticked by as her zeal for life became non-existent. She had already listened and opened her sweet soul to the Dark Ones and their persistent voices, believing them with a fearful completeness. The pills she had already ingested were beginning to take effect, and still I could not intervene.
Malevolent tears continued to storm down her cheeks. Love rejected, love scorned was as fatal as a cancer and from what could be seen plainly, she was once too many times rejected. Always another was chosen, never her, never ever her.
Holding on to the kitchen table she swayed, she had stopped her search for more pills and was now eyeing her kitchen drawer. Opening it she took out a sharp pointed knife, turning it over and over in her hands.
Dark Ones continued to whisper in her ear and I gritted my teeth at the sound of them. Vulgarities, lies which she readily believed, whispers of her worthless, unredeemable nature, they screamed that she was a blasphemy to God. They surrounded her, almost barricading her from my sight, if she only knew their hate for her she might not listen so quickly.
Then my eyes shifted to a different figure that appeared beside her. He was immense. His feathery, fearsome wings spanned out and filled the entire room, even so the Dark Ones held their ground. He was dressed in pure white that was not found anywhere on this earth, his robes flowed like a river, his face reflected the face of the Creator. At first I thought it was her guardian angel, here to put a stop to this ludicrous pain. But his chiseled face turned to me and his eyes blazed, aflame with fire and sorrow, and I knew at once who he was. From those fiery eyes came icy tears, a contradiction in itself. He was the one, the very one who thousands of years ago had visited God’s wrath upon Egypt, upon each and every unmarked home, the mark of the sacrificial lamb. It was his call, his purpose and today he had been summoned. He stood as if awaiting a choice, or an order to be made or given, patient and sad.
Our eyes met, he knew I could see him, he knew what I was just as I knew what he was. He nodded, it was his signal to me, now was the time to sound the alarm. At first I began with a meek hum, soft and tender, but soon my humming took on a soft determined melody that grew in force and boldness with each note. Soon words took form and began to flow:

Redeemed how I love to proclaim it,
Redeemed by the blood of the Lamb,
Redeemed by His infinite mercy,
His child and forever I AM!

The sky exploded with a bang and a rumble, like that of thousands and thousands of trampling horses. But mortal eyes could not see, nor could they hear this wondrous response, people in the park continued about walking, or jogging, ignorant of it all. I looked once more to the fearsome Holy Angel and saw that behind him the dark shapes began to advance, in opposition to my battle cry. Their wings were not white like his, though they had a trace of beauty to them that had not quite faded. Still, they were dirty and dripping with the bloodshed of this world, accumulated from each age.
The Angel of Death unsheathed his sword, keeping them at bay.
“Not yet! You may not proceed!” He thundered as he searched the heavens, as if awaiting permission from the One he faithfully served.
Dark Ones began to growl, sounding more like hungry bears or lions than one time glorious angels. They were on the hunt, their numbers were massing together against this one soul that mattered so much. The sky rumbled increasingly as my song never wavered. Dark and light clashed with magnificent colors, both light and dark creating an other worldly hue, a deep violet.
More and more streaks of light began to rain down causing the Dark Ones to squirm in agony, but still holding on to her and to this realm. As the Holy Ones arrived it was a glorious sight to see.
Still, she listened to the macabre voices, she took the knife more firmly in her hands, all the while sobbing heart wrenching sobs. Her desire to live equaled her desire to rid herself of this senseless pain. The cold steel touched her delicate skin even as the angels tried to intervene, but the choice was hers. Longingly she fixed her eyes on an aged picture framed in dark weathered oak. Tears of shame cascaded from her ebony eyes. A determined yet still unstable look formed in them and I knew she had decided.
The sky crackled and exploded with light, a command was issued and the Angel of Death spoke with unquestionable authority.
“You may not! She has been marked!” With that the Angel of Death touched her hand causing the knife to clatter to the ground.
Dark Ones raged and began whispering anew with desperate intensity, to which she screamed as if an unimaginable fear gripped her. She swayed, the pills that had already been ingested were beginning to weaken her, she began to fade as she sunk to the floor. But now she held on to life, she gripped it, taking deep breaths, and with each one the battle raged. One side was determined to save her, the other was determined to destroy her. With every passing moment, and with each resounding note of my melody the Dark Ones began to tremble, through this unmerciful storm the Angels of the Almighty were now being rejuvenated by the purity of praise.
Clutching he stomach she got up and staggered to the sink and heaved, then sank weakly to the ground once more eyeing the old photograph. It was a picture imprinted in every fiber of her being, of martyrs from a long ago time, a time of communism, a time in which her parents had lived. Below the picture of her beautiful young mother was a verse, lovingly and boldly written: “For if you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance for the Jews will arise from another place, but you and your father’s family will perish. And who knows but that you have come to royal position for such a time as this?” Esther 4:14
Dark ones persisted with their whispers, but now the Holy Ones surrounded her like sentinels, their pure light emanated strength. One by one they unsheathed their swords, obliterating the Dark Ones. Another angel in particular captured my attention, for it covered her ears with so much love and tenderness causing the insistent whispers of the Dark Ones to fade from her mind. Each tear that continued to flow was caught-not one was wasted-in an alabaster bottle by yet another angel. Before this merciful angel took flight towards heaven it stroked her cheek bringing peace to her soul. Soon this careful angel would see the face of the Creator, placing that precious alabaster bottle before His throne. This angel’s gift was mercy and it had been the same one who had delivered the cries of captive Israel to God on so many occasions both in times present and in times past.
Silently, her sobs subsided, strength returning to her along with clarity of mind. Rising she made her way to the window, our eyes meeting for only a moment before she looked towards heaven as if she was following the path that the mercy angel had taken. For that brief moment I thought she may have seen, or heard, or felt what I had. But she sighed and looked away, not fully grasping how even now the angels were ministering unto her as unto a queen, faithfully keeping at bay the hungry Dark Ones who roared as lions, seeking to devour their prey.
Yes, indeed, the battle had begun in earnest once more, beginning with the battle cry of a song. Yes, I would keep watch, for that is what I am, that is my gift, or curse, take it as you may. I am a Watchman, and as David sang to Saul causing each demon of hell to flee, so my voice would be lifted in a battle song, I would sound the shofar.
Vigilantly I will watch and sing and pray and be the very tool of the Most High to be used to rescue and pursue her. Until the dark haired beauty would see her worth that the Master put in her. Until her eyes would be fully opened so she could comprehend that she is this generation’s Esther, a Hadassah who must go before the king for her people. My melody would continue on and on and on until her rescue and redemption would be complete. This is her song, composed by heaven to be sung by me, for I am Raphael. I am and always have been her Watchman.


CHAPTER 1

22 years ago, communist Romania 1988
Doftana Prison, City of Telega, Prahova County

But Stephen, full of the Holy Spirit, looked up to heaven and saw the glory of God. "Look," he said, "I see heaven open and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God." ---Acts 7:55-56


Securitate officer Victor Vulpes shoved Mr. Richard and Mrs. Estera Marcu through the damp cold halway. Light would have been a luxury not given to such as these, and warmth would only come in their dreams, as they walked their bare feet made no noise. Moans reached hi ears from the cells just a few paces down, yet the luminescent gaze in the couples eyes did not fade nor falter. It irritated Victor to no end, did they not realize the full weight of their predicament? If they would not placate his superiors and recant, did they not realize they would cause a child to be orphaned? Yet they claimed the Savior redeemed, rescued and loved, yet they themselves were heartless not caring about their child.
What hypocrisy! He raged to himself. This is why the inhuman torment and treatment was suited perfectly for these types of people. They deserved this and much more, society needed to be purged of these kinds, they diseased the soul and heart of too many.
"Miscate! Move!" Victor commanded, to which without argument and with humbleness they complied, walking into their shared cell. This would be the only kindness they would receive here at Doftana Prison. The cell creaked, groaned then slammed with a finalizing bang.
Estera seemed to try to compose herself and stifle a cry. Then her demeanor relaxed slightly as she looked at the cell across from them and heard a melodious hum raise. With each note as the couple held each other, they seemed to draw strength.
"Silence Raphael!" he thundered. "None of that religious garbage in here, unless you want to get what they're getting!"
Raphael looked at the officer with a penetrating glare, "Officer Vulpes, I beg your pardon. I was only humming to pass the time, since when is humming considered religious?"
"It's precisely that kind of talk that will keep you behind those bars instead of being freed tomorrow." he retorted.
"That, officer, and quite fortunately, is not within your authority." countered Raphael.
Victor harrumphed. He gave no witty response knowing full well that someone had indeed outranked him, for reasons unbeknownst to him.
Raphael continued humming his irritating little hum which was vaguely familiar, with a pure clarity of an unblemished voice. The guy had talent at least, he thought. Shaking his head he made his way back the dark long hall.
As he rounded the corner, about to step out, he heard the captives begin to whisper causing him to stop. His dark mind thought of the possibilities of what he could learn, perhaps they would reveal other sects in the underground church, these sects that were springing up like flees. Victor firmly believed these flees needed to be exterminated, so his ears perked up as he listened.
"Peace, be still." Raphael said in a whisper that echoed to the weeping couple.
"Domnule, sir," Richard began, "We are trying to hold on to our credinta, our faith, but sweet Jesus help our unbelief."
A sob was heard from Estera, "Our baby, she was taken from us, if we don't recant, it is true, o sa murim, we will die tomorrow, she will have no one!"
"Estera, God Himself will be her father, do not fear, has He ever broken a promise?" Raphael spoke in a soothing tone.
She looked up at him in shock, "How do you know me? How do you know my name?"
He smiled in reply, "Oh I have known you since she was born, she has never been alone, is your memory so short daughter of God?"
She gasped and looked to Richard, "Oh! Sweet Jesus! You, your voice I know that voice!"
"Yes, what do you remember?" he probed.
"A doctor, I recall a doctor who made a promise that felt it was the very mouth of God speaking," she said in afar away look, as if she had traveled in time, "yes, a promise that she will be desired by the King... that He has set watchmen around her."
Richard sank to the icy ground, weeping, "Will we never see that day? She is our daughter, she will hate us. But to give in would send so many to prisons like this, so many lives will be lost. How do we choose?"
"For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life," he replied, then continued, "There is no greater love then for a man to lay down his life for his friend."
Estera held her head up high, and from where Victor was standing she looked regal. It was as if she saw something he could not as she met Raphael's gaze with a steady one of her own.
"Then if we perish we perish, for if we do not stand, then many more will disappear."
As the husband and wife embraced each other, somehow strengthened, though the officer could not comprehend how, the mysterious prisoner began his hum once more. As he did so Victor's own eyes widened as light filled the cells, bursting forth from each one, at one moment he could have sworn he saw what looked like white feathers, but just as quickly as this hallucination appeared, it had also disappeared.
He turned and walked out rubbing his temples, trying to keep at bay an oncoming headache, Too much tuica, he thought. His shift was over and he wouldn't think of it anymore until he had too, this religious talk caused even the most sensible of people to go crazy. So he determined to find the nearest bar and douse the throbbing with more tuica, at least until tomorrow, when finally their voices would be silenced forever.


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Ironically, the next morning was beautiful, as Estera and Richard were lead into a closed off couryard. A firing squad stood ready. Executions of these treasonous citizens was no very common, the norm was usually endless torture, but these two they were different. Each time they had been imprisoned they had somehow escaped, surely it was some type of inside job, still each time they escaped more of their sects sprouted. In this instance an exception would be made, at least that is what the chief of the Securitate, the Secret Police, had determined. Only a select few knew of what was taking place here, and those had been bought.
They grasped each other's hands standing against the stone wall waiting patiently.
From the corner of his eye, Victor saw Raphael without chains being set free by none other then the Chief. He knew the order to release this man had come from elsewhere, nobody seeming to know exactly the origin point, but the documents had been official. Yet he did not leave, he remained eyes fixed on the couple, ever watchful, but for what?
He looked towards heaven and again began that irritating haunting hum, Victor followed his gaze, though he saw nothing but clear blue skies.
The Chief walked to the middle of the courtyard and faced Estera and Richard, his face was as stone, "One last chance," he said, "Give us names, and you are as good as free, give us even just one name."
Richard looked up unafraid, "Today we will be free indeed, but you will not be the one to set us free. A name is what you seek?"
The Chief nodded, surprised that his prisoner would perhaps give in.
"You may have one name," said Richard as he looked at his wife still gripping her had, she nodded and kissed him tenderly on his cheek.
"Jesus." he then said, "The name I give you is Jesus."
In that second Victor Vulpes could have sworn there was a tremble beneath his feet, he looked up at the officers and saw that each one had swayed slightly before regaining their composure.
"So be it, you had a chance!" the Chief replied then turned to his officers.
"Attention!" he yelled in a booming voice, at which each of the seven officers positioned their firearms and readied them.
The silence was deafening, then the thunder of shooting began, husband and wife fell as one still looking towards heaven, not a trace of anguish on their faces. In that brief time in this eternity Victor looked at Raphael, who had tears streaming down his face. Somehow he was now beside him, although he did not remember taking a single step in his direction.
"Never," said Victor, "Never, never, never have I ever seen anyone executed who had such peace on their face." Extreme awe filled him, he couldn't deny it no matter how he tried.
"How is this possible?"
"Jesus, they told you, Jesus."


CHAPTER TWO

Present Day, Bolstabruk, Sweden 2010
As the battle subsided, a strange calm, a peace beyond all understanding seemed to settle over her. It was delightful to see the transformation taking place. I knew that now was the time, it was time for Laura Hadassah Marcu to meet her watchman. It was time for her to see the truth.
The aftermath of the battle for her soul was good, she was not destroyed, she had conquered her demons, quite literally, although she didn't fully know. But so there was so much more preparation needed, it would begin now.
Leaving the bench and opening the door to the hallway, I bounded up the steps, knocked on her door and waited.
Reluctant footsteps followed, a pause at the door. Then finally the door opened.
"I don't need the pills anymore Karina, I----" she stopped short in surprise, mouth agape. "I'm sorry, I, um well, was expecting someone else."
"Yes I know." I smiled.
"You do?"
I nodded.
"Who are you?"
"Forgive me Hadassah, my name is Raphael, and I am here to keep a promise to your Father."
Flashes of emotion crossed her face, pain, disbelief, curiosity.
"I've never known my father nor my mother, whoever you are don't toy with my mind, you'll find I'm not so very gullible these days." she crossed her arms as if to protect herself.
"Understandably so dear Hadassah, nor would I want you to be gullible, that would indeed be a disappointment." I replied.
I took a faded picture from my book, the black and white of times past, and gave it to her. Hadassah studied it with bewilderment.
"Where did you get this? it is similar to the one I have on my walls, the only picture I have of my biological parents."
"Look on the back, it is addressed to you." I pointed to the back of it.
Guardedly she read the script that was now a bit older then twenty years aloud:

"Our sweet child, we leave this world today and you in it, but never will you be alone, this we know. In recent days we have learned so much, dear child there is much to know, there are watchmen appointed by God among us. One such watchman has been as a sentinel for you from the day you were born. When the time is right, you will read this note. Then you will learn of Raphael, who watched over us and now watches over you. Your destiny will be tested this much we know, listen to him and he will show you how to win the heart of the King... For when you were born we were assured that one day you will be desired by him. Sweet princess of our hearts, we leave this world but we will meet again when the Savior will take your hand as He has done for us, we will meet you child, in the Golden City.------- Shalom, Peace be with you, with everlasting love from your Father and Mother Richard and Estera Marcu"

Her voice trailed off almost inaudible as she read those beautiful names. She motioned for me to come in, I lifted my hand "Not yet, in a moment, there is something I must retrieve from my own dwelling." Then turned to the door across the hall from her, unlocked it and took from beside the door the case containing my most cherished instrument.
Decisively I walked back to her ready now to accept her invitation.
For the moment she stood frozen in astonishment, "You live across the hall from me? How have I never seen you?" She questioned as she closed the door behind me.
"No one ever notices a watchman until he sounds the alarm." I answered.
Hadassah motioned for me to take a seat, "So you mean to imply that an alarm has been sounded." uncertainty with a hint of sarcasm coated her voice.
"Let me show you dear Hadassah, for that is what I have always called you, for that is what you are, let me show you how your life sounds when it is put to music."
Her round ebony eyes that were speckled with gold looked at me quizzically, as often happens when one finally learns the truth.
Gingerly I picked up the ancient violin that was my constant companion, for when a watchman gets tired or lonely from the long vigils that is what we do.
"My life to music?" she asked.
"Yes, the moment you were born your music started." I explained as I proceeded to pick up the bow.
A soft gasp escaped her gentle lips, "You have watched me that long? Did you really hear music when I was born?"
Smiling I nodded, "Yes, oh yes Hadassah, but this music was not the music I've composed but it was heaven's own composition which flowed and ebbed and even now I hear as we sit here."
Wonder filled her, she put a thin graceful hand over her heart, the joy of it was overwhelming to her, still, she was absorbing it.
"Now listen."
With reverence I lifted my bow, put my chin to the violin, and recalled each note that was played on that day. The melody did not begin sweetly as you may expect when you would think of the birth of a child, for the birth of a child is anything but peaceful. It is full of travail, a painful struggle to bring forth life and also hang on to life simultaneously. This song began with a fast tempo, with a touch of the mournful sound that a violin often gave, only after a seemingly endless time did the melody change into a sweet higher pitch that mixed both joy and relief of having safely delivered a soul into this world. On it went just as the angels themselves had played through out her life, yet still my violin paled to the full orchestra of heaven that had played throughout her life, oh yes that even now was playing, for Hadassah's song was not yet finished.
Each low note, each high note, each change in pace of the melody showed her where I had been in her life, though she never saw me, indeed she had never thought to look. Now the song thundered with a mixture of very low and high reaching the climax she had just overcome, with a long pause, just as the angels had paused when her life had almost stopped before the Conductor had planned... all because she thought there was no song. Oh, this now was my favorite part, like a triumphant entry of a queen after the battle had been fought and the victory was won. Here now I stopped, I would not play her the entire song, for she would need to choose the next note, and all of heaven now waited.
"Exquisite!" she exclaimed, "Though I've never heard it, it's as if I remember each note, but why have you stopped Raphael?"
"Because we have reached this moment, and you are the one to choose the next note." I explained.
She contemplated my words trying to comprehend, "Why do you call me Hadassah and not Laura?"
I smiled, "Is that not your middle name my dear?"
"Well yes, but nobody calls me that."
"That is what your parents called you, their Hadassah, queen of their heart." I simply stated.
We both glimpsed out the window, the sun refused to fade for it was summer, a Swedish summer, here the sun did not sleep during the warm months.
"Hadassah, what did you see when each note flowed over you?" I asked.
Hesitant at first as if afraid I'd think her crazy she replied, "I saw them, their life, their love, their death.. They left me without them." betrayal filled her, of course she would want someone to accuse.
"Child, they only left to join the One preparing a place for you. That was who they were, and they wanted to kill that out of them. They wanted to stay, but as the vision showed you dear child so many would have perished had they given in, in a battle much sacrifice is required, though unwanted." With each word uttered out of my mouth I prayed that they would be as a healing salve on the wounds in her heart.
"Yes, unwanted sacrifices, I know of those. But tell me Raphael what battle cry has been sounded and why?" she paused, "And why do you still look as young as if you could be my brother?"
She was curious, indeed, demanding answers as it is of course her right. I studied her a moment longer before replying, her dark black hair would remind you of night, yet her ebony eyes that were flecked with gold seemed to be like stars in that night. Her face was smooth as milk, her smile, if only she would smile would lift any weary soul.
"You are here for a purpose, and you have received an invitation."
"An invitation?"
"Yes, child your heart has been noticed by none other then the royalty of this country." I stated as proud as a father, for Hadassah to me was like my own child though always from afar.
Her mouth stood agape, speechless, uncertain.
"As for my youth, I am a watchman my lifespan is longer then most, though I am fully human, I have been given the gift of Noah, a long life span so I can better serve in His kingdom." I explained, but was uncertain that she would fully grasp this.
Softly she answered, "Moments ago I saw a flash of white across the sky, and I felt both dark hands and then hands of comfort touch me, I thought I was imagining all of it."
I smiled, "Your eyes have been opened, you my dear are a key, a light that will shine, but many will try to blow out your candle."
Fear flashed across her face, "What invitation have I received?"
"The Royal family of Sweden, the House of Bernadotte has taken great interest in you."


CHAPTER THREE

Song of Songs 3:2-3 I will get up now and go about the city, through its streets and squares; I will search for the one my heart loves. So I looked for him but did not find him. The WATCHMEN found me as they made their rounds in the city. "Have you seen the one my heart loves?"


"Tell me Raphael, how this happened, what have I done to be bestowed with their attention? I am nothing but an orphan who has taken refuge in this country of refugees." Hadassah begged as she poured coffee into beautiful cups.
I heard a hiss, somewhere a dark one did not want this story told, and did not want this future to unfold. I ignored it.
Taking a sip of the black coffee I began, "Do you remember your visit in Stockholm four years ago? In the year two thousand and six, during the summer solstice?" I prodded her memory.
She nodded.
"As you know Queen Silvia has a heart for the poor, as does the entire royal family. On that day you were among the thick crowds. Evidently you were beside an old woman, who would have gotten trampled had you not been there calling for everyone to stop. You took a hold of her, then guided her to the local café. There you fed her, and out of your own meager savings you clothed her. What you couldn't have known then was that both the Queen and her son, Prince Carl Philip were enraptured by your actions. Every move you made that day was followed by a man named Victor who has faithfully served them for many years."
At a complete loss for words she motioned for me to continue, so clearing my throat I continued.
"Do you remember why you were in Stockholm that year?"
She wrinkled her nose in concentration, "It was four years ago, but I remember St. Carla's Church, doing charity work for the needy of Stockholm, it was the best year of my life. That year I learned to be God's hands." she recalled the wonderful memories with fondness.
I chuckled, "Seems that two thousand and six was an unforgettable year for Prince Philip as well. He had been studying graphic design for quite a while up until then, one of his first projects he chose to do at St. Carla's, he spend three full weeks there photographing residents who came requesting help. On the side I dare say he snapped some pictures of you, though mysteriously he never gave those away, he guarded you like a priceless treasure."
"Me?" she exclaimed, it was evident that she couldn't fathom why a prince would take notice of her.
"Don't be so surprised my dear, his family also had humble beginnings. His own family traces down to a mare commoner, Jean-Baptiste Bernadotte to be precise. He was a commoner from Pyrenees, he valiantly rose through the ranks and soon enough was awarded the title of Prince of Pontecorvo by Napoleaon himelf. Then as if that was not enough, he was adopted by the Swedish monarch, Karl XIII. Prince Philip knows the history of his family very well," I informed her, "he also knows that when one humbles himself in front of the Lord, the Lord lifts him up."
Her eyes twinkled like stars with excitement now, as her perception of the royals was changing. Hadassah cupped her face in her hands with elbows on the kitchen table listening with rapt attention.
"This country, has served as a refuge for many people, for the Jews during the times of Hitler's reign, but also for Romanians during the time of communism. That is the heart of this country, although some are forgetting."
"When? How could he have remembered me this long?" she asked still a skeptic.
Warmth filled me, for stories such as these did indeed warm my heart, "He never forgot you, how could he? But his duties had taken him across the globe with his schooling and training, but now he has returned, and they will honor him with numerous festivities, to which an invitation for you had been arranged," again I chuckled getting caught up in the wonder of it once more, "of course he had quite a time finding you had moved to this small town in Bolstabruk."
Smiling as if in a fairytale she persisted, "When?"
"The festivities will begin in a month's time, to which I will escort you."
Flabbergasted, she twirled her hair around her fingers, a dozen worries seemed to flash across her face, as she studied her all to modern clothing. I knew what she was thinking.
"No worries my dear, you will be fully prepared, equipped and might I add lavishly decorated." I assured her.
She breathed in several calming breaths, "Why? Why am I to go? What will become of me?"
"Very soon the persecution that once was in Romania will begin anew, there have been subtle signs and several cries from watchmen in your home country, the time is drawing near." I said gravely.
"I don't understand Raphael, what has this to do with me? I don't even remember Romania, I was still an infant when I was adopted and brought here." she spoke nervously.
It never ceased to amaze me how true the words of the Most High were, for in this moment it was true indeed that what once was will be again. This century's Hadassah mirrored the former in more ways then even she realized... and the tie to her namesake was closer that even she knew.
"Sweet child, it is still your country of birth, the country in which your parents sacrificed their lives for. Truthfully, if you don't intercede for your people, as Mordecai himself said, God will raise someone else, but you will perish."
Hadassah rose from her seat and began pacing circles in her kitchen, absently putting dishes away, then running nervous hands through her dark silky hair. Tears slipped through her long lashes making her cheeks shimmer and shine.
"What must I do?"
Her willingness to serve, made fatherly pride swell within me.
"Continue to win the heart of the Prince and then proceed to melt the heart of the king, when the time comes you will take a stand, you will know what to do."
She sighed, I knew she wanted to believe, yet she could not see her own worth, still she nodded. Countless moments passed in silence, as we both looked out the window lost in thought of what possibilities and perhaps even dangers lay ahead. The day was still bright though it was nearing ten in the evening. Through the window we could see the waters as blue as forget me knots, in the distance the immense paper factory was the only thing that intruded on this picturesque scene, with gray smoke billowing into thick clouds.
"Raphael?"
"Yes child?"
"Play me another song on your violin."


--------

The city of Alba Iulia was bright this morning, though it should have been dark as night, it would have fit better for this terrifying day. Seraph looked at the crowds walking to and fro in the piata, not seeing that freedom was slowly being stripped away.
Seraph had watched over this city for so long, it was easy to see the darkness encroaching. As even now he met the blue flaming eyes of a dark one, immense wings spanned over the city, dipped as always in blood. Yet it never ceased to amaze him how though these were fallen angels, still their God-given beauty had not been stripped from them, the only think that made them terrifying was how they had dirtied themselves with dark stains of innocent blood. Perhaps this was why they could still masquerade as angels of light.
Pastor Lucas passed before him in deep conversation with one of the city officials, compromising more then he should. Did Lucas not see how one compromise only lead to another? And soon enough little by little they would only find themselves in the hands of the devil.
"But Ioan he is only a young man, Ionatan nu stie, doesn't know how his speech could be found offensive cut him some slack, he is only full of young zeal." begged Lucas
"It's hate talk! That's what it is, he can't condemn another persons life style it's their choice." Ioan bellowed.
Desperatly Lucas tried to keep Ioan's quick pace, "Sure it is, he was just pointing out that in our faith it is wrong."
Daggers seemed to shoot out of the Congressman Ioan's eyes, daggers and rage as the dark one whispered in his ear, "Next month what your faith calls wrong will be considered ignorant hate talk and there will be consequences to it." He accentuated each word.
Ioan tried to stifle a gasp, "Come now Congressman, that would be returning our country back to the tyranny Ceausescu reigned with, surely our country will not go backward, only forward. Shouldn't each person be able to express their view freely?"
He harrumphed, "Close mindedness is not the future of this country, please make sure you educate Ionatan on what his future will hold if he continues in his ignorant ways."
Seraph observed the dark ones attempting to entrap Lucas, chains were being draped on him, but the choice still remained with him... and the choice had not yet been made.

CHAPTER FOUR

Love never reasons, but profusely gives; it gives like a thoughtless prodigal its all, and then trembles lest it has done to little.
- Hannah More


Stockholm, Sweden, Summer 2010

The Clarion Hotel was not too far from the Royal Palace of Stockholm, it was full of glamour and splendor that Hadassah had never been exposed to before and she didn’t quite know how to handle it now. She looked around her with wide eyes absorbing every detail, as she stepped into a suite in the hotel and set her luggage by the door.
It was nearing eleven in the evening, she was exhausted for the day had been full of exploration of this city full of vibrancy and life. Raphael had made certain that she saw it all as she was unable to afford to do on her previous visit. He had shown her Djurgarden the Royal Game Park where they would join the royal family for the music festival. The gardens were spectacular with lively green trees, unending stretches of forests and meadows that were food for the eyes. Djurgarden was an island in central Stockholm and the waters around it gave a sweet dreamy even magical feel to it. Then he had taken her to the Royal Palace of Stockholm wich overlooked lake Malaren and was surrounded by numerous parks. Absorbing every detail it was not completely unbelievable that this place was often referred to as the Venice of the North.
Now after a dinner that could only be described as a feast, Raphael retired to the room next to hers, and she was now alone.
She began to unpack, as neatly as possible she set her clothes in the closet to free them of wrinkles then readied herself for bed. But regardless how tired she was she could not sleep, so she sat on the loveseat in front of the flat screened television. She was about to grab the remote and flip through the channels but her hand froze over an envelope on the coffee table, it had a beautiful red wax seal on it, almost to beautiful to break. Her full name: Laura Hadassah Marcu was written in beautiful calligraphy of an experienced artist. With careful tenderness she took it and slowly broke the seal, taking out the soft obviously expensive stationary paper she began to read the words as if in a dream:


My Dear Friend Hadassah,

Although we have not been properly introduced to your knowledge, I do consider you my friend. Imprinted in my mind and heart, your face has remained ever-present, a reminder to me even during my travels that kindness and humility still has a presence in this world. You may remember that among my first projects I had decided to photograph the charity and love found at St. Carla’s Church towards the less fortunate of this our capital of Sweden, what you do not know, indeed no soul knows is that prior to starting this project I had decided to not come as a prince, but as one of those in need.
In rags I came and it was your face that greeted me. After my ‘needs’ had been cared for, which you arranged with painstaking detail, you went beyond what others would have. Hadassah you my dear gave out of your own money enough for a warm place to rest my head, for I had mislead you to think I had no place to stay. To my great surprise provision had been given to me and indeed through your insistence St. Carla’s clothed me in fine clothes fit for a prince.
Yes dear heart yours is a rare jewel, and I come to wonder what fires have formed the beauty of your soul, this I must know. It is my great hope, no, my greatest desire that now we be formally introduced, I would be privileged to hear you claim me as your friend. Also, as it seems you find such great pleasure in caring for those who are cast aside, a special surprise awaits you, and should you choose to accept you will find that you will certainly touch others as you have me. Tomorrow we will meet, until then dear Hadassah, rest well and be at peace.


Sincerely yours

Prince Carl Philip


Her hands trembled, her heart thundered for this man could not possibly have known indeed what fires had formed her, yet he wanted to know. Each word was beautiful and elegant as befitting of a prince yet of the whole letter that one phrase stood out: “I come to wonder what fires have formed the beauty of your soul, this I must know.”
The fires of which he spoke, the fires of the past still burned her soul and at this moment she wondered if they always would. Her passion for these forgotten ones, they were not completely selfless, they were her attempt at atonement. How many times had she stumbled and fallen and left scars that refused to fade? Sure that brief time in May of 2006 was an innocent time, for all was done out of zeal and passion for Christ. Always her greatest desire had been to be the hands and feet of the One who filled her with joy, but in more recent times her charity given to others was more out of guilt then of love.
Johan had been the one who had swept her off her feet and she had given her heart to him, but his faith or lack there of led her to compromise. She had begun to drink, and behave as him, her work at the charity houses of Bolstabruk and Kramfors had become almost non-existent. Then he asked for more of herself then she was willing to give without any commitment she so longed for, when she refused he’d left her bruised and battered, he had made sure that she knew she was nothing more then trash, nothing special, she was nobody’s child, nobody’s love, just nobody. If Hadassah had not given so much of her heart she would not have lost all purpose when he left, but he had been the world to her. Yet now a prince claimed she was a jewel, and every part of her being questioned this wondering what his motives really were, but what could a prince want from her which he didn’t already posses.
Sighing Hadassah, walked into the bedroom portion of the suite immersed herself in soft bed pulling the covers over her, thoughts and doubts raging through like crashing waves until sleep no longer eluded her.
Whispers… mocking.
Evil chuckles… resonated.
Something… or lots of something tearing at the fibers of her clothing.
The beautiful gown was now nothing more then rags
“YOU are nobody’s love, fool!”
She gasped but couldn’t scream.
“YOU are not worth loving! Fool! Stupid, stupid fool!”
She whirled around trying to see, but darkness prevailed.
“YOU are trash, and HE will mock you exactly as that, hmmmm oh what joy that will be.” The voices continued to harass.
Fear caroused through her
“Even your Savior mocks you, give up now, you are not someone He’ll take back, you turned your back on Him, YOU spit on His face, YOU are a Judas!” they were relentless in their accusations.
Somewhere afar, through the darkness a melody tried to pierce through, but in fragments to hard to piece together.
Still she couldn’t scream, but in her mind she called: “Don’t leave me! I’m so scarred!” The cry within her was the same cry she had cried many times.
A still, small voice resounded in her soul even as the dark whispers continued. “Fear not, for I have not given you a spirit of fear, but of one that cries Abba! Farther! Call my name sweet princess!”
“Father!”
An explosion of light illuminated from her, the radiance burst forth and she could see the dark ones, with dirty wings dipped in blood fleeing, even as the angels drew out golden double-edged swords with which they valiantly fought and cast them to their own eternal punishment. The light materialized in front of her, and she trembled in awe and fear, for she could not gaze too long on the One before her, His eyes were truly burning like the deepest blue part of a flame. His hands cupped her face and wiped the tears of fear, “My Bride, that is all you ever have to do, just call My name and I will rescue you each time.”
“Each time?” she asked.
“Yes, this battle will keep raging, they will assault you with lies, but as long as you remember that who you are is not defined by man, but by Me, those very lies will destroy all that comes against you.” He assured her.
She looked down in shame, “I’m sorry, please forgive me, You have to know what I have done..”
“As far as the east is from the west Hadassah your mistakes are cast asunder, they exist no more, you are spotless.”
A smile filled His face, that smile of a loving Father, or perhaps a Prince, or more the smile of a redeeming Savior. It was His smile that remained imprinted in her mind as the morning sun shone in triumph over the Stockholm skies.


CHAPTER FIVE

"Courage is almost a contradiction in terms. It means a strong desire to live, taking the form of a readiness to die." -- G.K. Chesterton

Deuteronomy 30:19
This day I call heaven and earth as witnesses against you that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Now choose life, so that you and your children may live.


Ionatan took a deep breath and prayed that God would give him the right words today. He had been invited to speak at the Alba’s city hall, where numerous speakers were to represent the different faiths now found in this monumental city. Though he was young, only twenty eight, he remembered brief periods from much harder times when talks like this would earn him torture at the hands of the securitate, the secret police. His own parents had been part of the revolution that brought down communism. Back then they had resided in a smaller city that was part of Alba Iulia called Cugir and it was there and also in the city of Timisoara that the revolt against tyranny had first begun. It was in these two cities that the battle cry had been give that the Romanian people have had enough, and as one they had stood, unshakable. It was interesting how on that day it hadn’t mattered that Orthodox was standing next to a Pentecostal and a Pentecostal was standing next to a Catholic and a catholic found himself standing next to a Baptist and a Jew, no, all that mattered that on that day they had stood for freedom at the cost of their own lives.
Today however was a different day, the sacrifice forgotten, and freedom once more was being taken for granted. Once more each word had to be weighed against the risk of offending someone, and in the next month offending the wrong someone could mean expensive penalties or jail.
He looked around at the room full of people, his eyes finally rested on Seraph, the watchman of this city. He had been here when communism had fallen, and as Seraph had explained to him, he had seen the dark ones fighting fiercely, but he had also seen the cry of the oppressed being answered by heaven itself as all of heaven had been dispatched on that day. Ionatan hoped heaven would hear his own prayer today.
Clearing his throat he began, “Doamnelor si domnilor, ladies and gentlemen, I have been given the privilege to stand here before you today to represent the Pentecostals and Baptist citizens of this city. As you may have heard a case had been brought before you a few weeks ago about an incident in one of our churches, while it saddens me that it has come this far and that offense has been taken the church desires to explain the situation in more clarity.”
Murmurs circulated as he paused for breath.
“In our church a situation had been brought to us regarding a man being unfaithful to his wife along with rumors of abuse against her and also against the person with who he had committed adultery with. While we do not take into consideration rumors, this was a situation in which the safety of the presumed abused could not be risked. Therefore two things were done, one, the wife and children were provided shelter by one of the members from the church. Also the woman with whom he had committed adultery with was also given shelter with another family. Two, and here in lays the offense, the church had decided to put the man aside for his proven adultery, meaning he was not to participate in the worship team at church or any other leadership activities until he showed he had repented of his wrongs.” Here, he paused as angrier calls began throughout the audience.
“Lies! Matei is a respected citizen! You are marring his name!” a man from the back shouted.
“How he spends his time with women is his choice, no one’s a saint!” shouted a woman towards the front.
Ionatan cleared his throat, courage was wearing thin, but as he looked at Seraph who’s hands were folded in prayer he continued.
“We are a church and as such in the church there is right and there is wrong. Adultery is wrong. Beating another human being is wrong! The Bible states that if someone does wrong they must be reprimanded one on one, if that person does not take heed then he is reprimanded once more this time with a witness present, if still there is no change it is brought before the church. At this point if there is still no change then the person gets put aside, meaning they will have no leadership functionality in the church. They may still attend, the person is not shunned, in fact we try our hardest to lovingly encourage the person to change his or her ways in hopes to heal relationships not break them.”
Angry yells and booing resounded from the packed room, some defending Ionatan some cursing him, but he stood firm.
“Ladies and gentlemen please, please listen.” He begged.
“Who’s to say that next you won’t put a person aside for drinking? Or his choice of a partner?” Someone’s voice reverberated above the rest.
There lay the real issue. Though Ionatan could not see what Seraph surely saw at this moment, he could feel darkness seeping into the room with a cold chill.
“We believe what the Bible says,” he replied and tried to continue though the crowd was almost overshadowing his voice, “We do not force anyone to come into our church, they come by their own church. But if they do come and choose to call themselves Christians and participate in the leadership of the church they must abide by what the Word says. In the leadership of the church our leaders are not to get drunk, and their life style must be pure and pleasing to God.”
“So a leader in the church cannot lead a lifestyle that you deem impure to God, who are you to choose?” Yelled a woman with a screeching voice.
Ionatan did not respond in anger but waited for the room to quiet down before he continued, “I am nobody, I am a follower of Christ, and I do not choose His Word chooses.” his reply was quiet yet strong, somehow echoing across the room.
“So you condone hate?” another accused.
He shook his head sadly, “Nu, no! Never, none of us pretend to be better then each other, we hold each other accountable for our actions, if one is in the wrong we encourage one another so we do not fall in the wrong, and if we do fall in sin, then always there is someone to help direct and lift up and encourage. We do not condone hate, we do not hate this man caught in adultery, we pray for him and we had tried to council him in hopes to restore his family. We have made ourselves available to him both day and night in hopes that his own heart will be healed as well as that of his wife who still loves him deeply, in hopes that he changes so his children will not walk in absolute fear of him. We do not hate, but we do defend those who are weaker.” For a few long moments there was no reply.
“Then what is your answer to this lawsuit he brings against your church?” asked a man wearing a black suit, which Ionatan assumed was the man in question’s lawyer.
“If this Matei chooses to take us to court, it is his choice. We will defend his family as well as the church but hope and pray that he understands that we stand against him for the good of his family, not out of hate.” With that Ionatan left the podium, walked down the isle and out of the building into the stifling summer day.
Seraph saw all this and more. During the entire time, he had seen two angels on each side of Ionatan, their strong hands resting on his shoulders, when he had become weak with fear, they held him up in their strong arms.
Among the crowd the dark ones swept from one person to another whispering venomous words. The saddest sight of all was looking at Pastor Lucas, who sat in his own silent battle. On one side was a tall angel who’s wings were dipped in pure gold, it’s sward drawn pointing at the dark angel with wings just as big but of course dipped in blood. As the evil one bent to whisper in Lucas’s ears the tall Angel flashed his sward but the dark one blocked it, neither side was winning or loosing…. And so the choice of which master Lucas would serve was still not made.


-------------------

I was waiting for her to come out of her hotel suite ready to escort her to the music festival where she would soon meet the Prince, but I was not prepared for her to take my breath away.
Shyly she stepped out and let the door lock behind her, then she turned to me, her ebony eyes questioning.
I gave a slight laugh, “My dear Hadassah you are stunning!” I assured her.
She was dressed in a long royal blue gown that flowed about her each time she moved, it was simple yet intricate at the same time, as seen by the rose pattern in which her gown gathered on her right shoulder. As she giggled her queen Anne style blue earrings glittered as sunlight from the windows bounced on them.
Looking around unsure of herself she touched the matching necklace and began to fidget with it.
“Do not be afraid, you have nothing to fear, today you will meet the Prince that longs to call you friend.” I said to her as I led her outside into the waiting limousine.


CHPATER SIX


“There is this swelling tide of darkness sweeping not only across this country of refuge, but across the entire world.”
Hadassah’s dreamy smile faltered as my words seemed to deflate her.
As I was guiding her towards the assigned seats which were designated for honorary guests of the Royal Family she had been drinking in every single detail with a thirsty amazement. Where we were seated was a privileged section, as could be seen by the increased number of the Royal Guard. Hadassah openly stared with mouth agape at one the handsome Guards. In full uniform they were indeed beautiful to look at, they wore her favorite color, a deep, vibrant sapphire blue with white collars, white belt, white buttons and the pants were the same blue with white a white stripe running down on each side. Each guard had black shiny boots that came up to their knees, and the white helmet gave a perfect image of protection. Every single Guard stood straight and at full attention, lest any mischief would come about on their watch.
“Why do you say this?” she asked, her voice engulfed with worry.
I sighed, “More and more what is right is now deemed wrong, and wrong is fervently declared right, and so those who stand for what is truly right soon find themselves at a crossroad, in the end each one person must make their choice.”
She shook her head in frustration, “But why do you say this now?”
How could the battle that remained unseen to mortal eyes be explained to her? Even now as the Royal Family were being escorted down the isle and each person rose in honor, so much more was left unseen.
“Would that your eyes could see what I see, for though you see only people, normal people, escorting Royalty, these eyes of mine see beyond just that.” I explained pointing towards Her Majesty Queen Silvia.
Her eyes raised slightly in inquiry and I continued, “Next to Queen Silvia there is an angel with his sward drawn, he is splendid! The light that surrounds him consists of millions of indescribable colors, but the most vibrant are the violets, blues and the blinding unearthly white.” My words flowed at a rapid pace I could not slow, “Oh and his wings! They span out and reach at least seven or more feet above the ground, he is fearsome and if you were evil he would not only be fearsome but downright terrifying.”
Stopping for breath I studied Hadassah to see if she was comprehending, for it felt so wonderful to share with another human the splendor and horror of it all. She was indeed attentive, such a wonderful listener, eager to learn, and so I continued.
“His eyes, as the eyes of all angels are flaming blue, as the bluest part of a flame, which reflect the eyes of the Creator at all times. Each member of this privileged family has an angel near them at all times.”
“That’s beautiful, how utterly wonderful to be so protected,” she said with the wonder of a child.
Feeling a sad smile creep on my face I went on, “If that were all I saw all would be well, but there is a thick cloud of heinous creatures trailing not too far behind waiting, always waiting for an opportune time to strike in one way or another.”
“This is what you see all the time?” she asked.
“It’s a blessing, or maybe a curse, but no a blessing… it’s better to know and see when the enemy approaches, that is what I am, I am a Watchman and we watchmen are the first to sound the alarm.” I explained.
Already though her eyes were growing round, a glimmer of fear or perhaps nervousness filled them as she looked past me. Turning my head back to the isle I saw that the Royal family was making their way right to where we were sitting, Prince Carl Philip had already lain eyes on Hadassah an a controlled smile appeared on his face, though it was evident that it took much not to make that a full bright smile.
Hadassah nudged me, “What do I do? What do I say? Do they still curtsey to one another?” she whispered frantically.
Before I could reply the Prince had reached her side and she swallowed back her fear as much as she could and bowed her head slightly, uncertain if that was to be done.
He gathered her hand in his as if it was a delicate flower and raised it to his lips, the crowd nearest us seemed not to know how to react. I could see, and I smiled slightly at this, that some of the eligible young ladies had their jaws open both in shock and most certainly jealousy.
“This may sound cliché but I have waited a long time to finally introduce myself to you, as myself of course.” said the Prince in a breezy voice.
For a brief moment Hadassah seemed lost unable to respond, yet somehow she smiled and found her voice, “Your Majesty I am honored that you took notice of me, as if I am anything more then just another girl in this beautiful land.”
The Queen and King smiled along with the Crown Princess and her sister, seemingly approving of her humble answer and again I smiled, more then a little proud as I would be had I ever had a daughter.
The Prince would have responded, but music started to play sweetly and all faced the stage that had been set.
“We will speak more I assure you after the music festival,” he whispered in her ear and she blushed turning a deep rose color that looked enchanting against her smooth pale skin and dark flowing hair.
Patriotism was evident on each face as the National Anthem began with a classical piano making the sweet notes flow through the open air, and as music always did, it caused a wondrous peace to surge through me.
“Du gamla, Du fria, Du fjallhoga nord
Du tysta, Du glad Erika skona!”

The words indeed were beautiful even by themselves, translated the meaning would have come to this: Thou ancient, thou free, thou mountainous north… In beauty and peace our hearts beguiling…
If peace would only remain in this land I thought as I rose my voice to join in song sending the Dark Ones far from us… at least for a time, a short, short time.


____________________


“Dear Hadassah, you cannot imagine the how Carl has gone on and one about you, for four years now!” Crown Princess Victoria said in a bright voice.
We were now in the heart of Drottningholm Palace outside of Stockholm seated comfortably in a library filled with hundreds if not thousands of books. It was a bright heavenly room painted all white, each bookcase was built into the walls and at the top as well as in between the bookcases there were gold engravings. If ever I had a weakness other then singing it was also books and I longed to study each one in here, but of course there were more important things at hand currently.
“Forgive me Princess but I still can’t fully fathom why.” replied Hadassah.
Princess Madeline was quick to reply, “Your answer shows exactly why, you can’t see your own worth my dear, and that in some ways is very good.”
Hadassah raised her eyebrows in confusion.
Madeline giggled, “Humility is good, it lets you see into the world, it doesn’t blind you from it’s needs, of which there is much. Pride does the opposite, in our family though we are proud of our lineage and honored of the position we hold, humility is much more honored. Our mother taught us early that we are servants to this country, and we have been taught that mercy towards the poor is worth more then gold.” she explained using her hands to demonstrate each word.
The Prince listened to his sisters entertain Hadassah with the patience of a child, that is with almost no patience at all.
“True, true, now my dear Royal sisters could a Prince get some time alone with our Good Samaritan?” he asked pointedly.
Both rose as one at which Hadassah also rose with just as much elegance and grace. They embraced for they had become fast friends. “We will chat more after our brother has bored you enough.” said Victoria with a wink.
I sighed, for this was also my que to take my leave for the moment, and as I looked at the books that were surely calling me by name I gave an even deeper sigh, “Call for me Hadassah when you need me,” I pointed to her cell phone, “I’ll be strolling through the gardens.”
As I turned to leave this grand, enchanting room the last thing I saw was the Prince lovingly take Hadassah’s hand and sweetly plan a kiss on it that again sent her blushing.


CHAPTER SEVEN


1 Peter 5:8
Be of sober spirit, be on the alert Your adversary, the devil, prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.

"There is no such merchant as the charitable man; he gives trifles which he could not keep, to receive treasure which he cannot lose." --- Francis Quarles


He took her hands in his which caused them to slightly tremble at his touch, her heart pounding wildly like a stampede of horses as she summoned the courage to meet his dark blue eyes. He was looking at her as if she truly was a priceless jewel, this above all else she couldn’t fathom, that a prince would consider her in this way, this just didn’t happen in real life.
In times past Hadassah had become accustomed to being second choice or no choice at all. Time and time again she would set her heart on the one she thought might be the one, yearning for true love as most girls do only to find that in fact it was not love, not even friendship, it was nothing at all. That nothingness hurt so much. Johan had been the worst, sweeping her off her feet, causing her to compromise, to stop running with a passion that had been in her soul. She had even given up her precious faith, all for him. He soon tired of her, casting her aside as a ripped dirty rag, now she found herself sitting before a Prince feeling only shame and unworthiness. Scarred, shattered in so many ways, with so many pieces missing and needing to be put back together, she wondered could it happen?
“Am I making you uncomfortable?” He asked.
Hadassah almost laughed, of course she was nervous, he was a Prince for heaven’s sake! What was he thinking asking such a question?
Overwhelmed with jitters she answered as honestly as she always did, even when it would come out wrong, “Of course I am, I’m standing before Royalty after all.” sarcasm dripped through her voice which she quickly regretted, “I’m sorry that came out wrong.”
Taking no offense he spoke gently as if afraid that she’d run away if his moves were too sudden or his words too harsh, which in all truth she probably would have bolted.
“I may be a Prince, but I am as human as you, with strengths and weaknesses and many, many failures, as you, on that level we are equal before God, is that not so?” he asked.
Reluctantly she nodded.
“So then, pleas call me Philip, not Prince Philip, just Philip.” he insisted.
At this she beamed at him, “Alright Philip, forgive me but I’m uncertain as to what to say, why am I here?” Though her nervousness was vanishing slowly, still she was not willing to leave her heart unguarded.
He ran a hand through his dark slightly wavy hair then focused on her, apparently picking up some of her nervousness, “Simply because of your generous heart. The few who are like you are needed here, and if you would consent there are some special projects for those in need for which we need you, there is so much that you can offer them.” He explained rambling a bit with the eagerness of a child.
“That is why I’m here? Because there aren’t any hearts more generous then mine?” again she spoke with a bite in her tone that once more she regretted the second the words escaped her lips.
For a moment he was silent, searching for words, “That’s not the only reason, but it is the official reason.” He said daring a wink towards her at which her cheeks flushed red, averting his eyes. The walls of defense seemed to fall apart slowly but not completely, she was unsure how to respond.
Philip took her delicate chin in the palm of his hands, gently directing he face so she would have to meet his eyes, “My main reason is because I would like to continue the friendship that began years ago.” His blue eyes looked like flowing water accentuating the sincerity and determination found in them, they were like waves determined to reach her shore.
“But I’ve never known you until now, not really, not you.” she stated, “You can hardly consider me your friend.”
He frowned, “Why do you think so little of yourself?”
Hadassah got up slowly, removing his hands from her face, turning towards the thousands of glorious books and thought how lovely it would be to escape into one of them.
“It’s not that I think little of myself, it’s just logic assuring me this isn’t real,” she finally replied still not turning back towards him, “I do not know you.”
Consumed with determination he pressed on, “That’s the truth, at least back then I wasn’t Philip to you, but you did get to know me then. I know you remember me, you said you wouldn’t forget, that you couldn’t forget. I was only Lars to you, a ragged dirty beggar.” Placing his hands on her shoulders, he turned her gently to face him.
Her eyes widened, “No, I haven’t forgotten Lars, the beggar with a love of books,” she gave a slight reluctant laugh, “I suppose now I understand that.” she said motioning towards the countless books surrounding them.
Gradually the laughter would not be stopped and it burst from her, “Ha! Beggar indeed!” The sound of her joy delighted Philip, for she sounded so musical and free.
“See? We’re not stranger after all.”
She smiled so easily at the recollection of the time so long ago, almost like a lifetime it seemed, “I remember… sitting at the café discussing J.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis, and I wondered how a beggar with so much knowledge could remain a beggar.”
“You gave me your own copy of the Lord of the Rings and said to remember that the least is great in God’s eyes, like Frodo… and to never let anyone look down on me.” He said smiling mischievously, “Now tell me, do you believe that still?”
Crossing her hands she said, “Yes, your majesty, this Frodo has been raised.”
He gently stroked her cheek, “No, you are more like Arwen, I sense you are willing to stand against much for what you love.”
Their common passion of books, of this story in particular warmed her, “She was my favorite,” Hadassah said in an almost whisper.
Still a sorrow seemed to linger somewhere close to the surface of her being, the gap in rank was still so large even for a small friendship, so she shielded herself as she always did when intimidated even slightly, “Alright, please tell me Philip what is expected of me? Where can I help?”
Giving a tentative smile, he paused, unsure of why her voice had all of a sudden taken a business-like tone. Taking a hold of her hand he lead her to a window overlooking the water of this beautiful island, the sun insisted on shining in such a perfect way that it illuminated her face, her dark eyes twinkled and the slight gold in them became more evident as if she herself was an angel. Philip wondered how she could not see her own beauty.
“As you know, this country has taken in many refugees, and some need more care then others, especially the children. We are starting a program called Nobody’s Child Outreach, it’s not just for children but all that some may consider nobodies, it’s my own project. Actually, it’s really your project, you started it with me.” each word he spoke was infused with passion
Hadassah listened with rapt attention, something stirred within her as if life was being breathed once more into her soul.
“You will be in charge of it, what you say will be law in this organization, where you deem there is a need that is where help will be sent.” he announced as if giving her a present and he couldn’t wait to see if she would delight in it.
She blinked and gasped, and for a moment fear gripped her, she had never been one to be ‘in charge’ of anything. Was this Prince going mad? Didn’t he know that she wasn’t capable of running any type of organization? Her eyes darted nervously across the green manicured lawns, to the not too distant water.
“How can you trust me with something so big? What if I make a mistake, give in the wrong place, squander this country’s wealth?” she let her fears be unleashed with each word.
He answered with ease, “I trust you because I’ve seen you do this at St. Mary’s, I’ve also heard of your charity work in Bolstabruk, you have a heart for this and that is truly rare.” He stated with finality in his tone.
A phone chirped in the his pocket and Hadassah almost jumped.
He looked down at it as if it was an obnoxious be, then sighed, “I’m afraid duty calls once more, I apologize, hang on a sec okay?” he said holding one finger up as he walked the short distance to one of the book cases, where he exchanged some quick words with whoever was at the end of the other line, then he flipped the phone shut and walked back towards Hadassah was gazing still out the window.
“I have to go now, but I want to make sure I get someone to show you the rooms we have prepared for you and Raphael.” He was looking at his phone again getting ready to dial, but was stilled by Hadassah’s arm on his hand.
“We’re staying here? But we have a room at the h--” she began
“No my dear Arwen,” he winked, “You will be staying here, where our advisors in in all things having to do with charity will be at your disposal… and where I may also catch a glimpse of you.”
He lifted his phone to his ear not giving her a chance to protest. Soon a servant entered the library awaiting to escort Hadassah.
Philip lifted her hands once more and kissed them, sending butterflies flying in her stomach, “Until tomorrow, please Hadassah, make yourself at home and don’t hesitate to as for anything you may need.”
With that he introduced her to a kind-faced servant dressed in an elegant uniform, then with much reluctance left the room.


---------------------------------------

When Hadassah recounted to me her time with the Prince with the eagerness of a child in a dream, I couldn’t help but rejoice. Sure, she didn’t know, but the keys to many doors had been opened on this very door and I smiled. Soon those very keys would be needed to provide protection for so many, yes, very soon.
For even as I had been walking in the perfectly kept gardens my eyes saw darkness prowling, taking the shape of a lion. Yes indeed, the Dark Ones were prowling like a roaring lion, even now seeking whom they may devour.


CHAPTER EIGHT

Isaiah 62:1 For Zion's sake I will not keep silent, And for Jerusalem's sake I will not keep quiet, Until her righteousness goes forth like brightness, And her salvation like a torch that is burning.


“Today not only in philosophy but in politics, government, and individual morality, our generation sees solutions in terms of synthesis and not absolutes. When this happens, truth, as people have always thought of truth, has died. “---- Francis Schaeffer


Bucurest, Romania December 7, 2010

The vicious lion prowled hungrily, it had a strong desire, indeed it had a strong need to devour. Yet full of malicious intent it was amazingly patient biding its time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike its unsuspecting prey.
Seraph could see this as he watched and prayed as angels fought demons over this small country as they had for thousands of years. As the watchman of Romania he had been present the year communism fell and freedom was breathed back into this beautiful country. Through the years stories passed down of how it was in the time of evil Ceausescu, of the anti-religious decrees and propaganda that had lead to many countless deaths and others tortured. It had been this country’s holocaust in so many ways. At the beginning of communism it had been subtle as evil always is, it began slowly in 1947 with non-communist leaders those who had opposed the very idea methodically and tactfully being eliminated from political life, they no longer had a voice. Under severe pressure King Michael had abdicated the throne and was forced into exile along with his family in the harsh winter of December 1947. So the battle had started and raged and then victory had finally come after much suffering in December 1989. Freedom, the word this country had not known in what had seemed like a lifetime had finally been birthed.
But as with all hard-won liberty the struggles and the price that had been paid to gain it were slowly forgotten. The right to practice religion without fear was underestimated, they did not see the Dark Ones crouching at their doors once more, for they came as angels of light.
So it had began with Ionatan, the zealous young preacher from Alba Iulia, with him taking a stand for a battered abused woman and her children, that battle had been won, yet the next one took his breath away.
Seraph had watched him closely, his hazelnut eyes were always full of burning passion as he spoke the truth to each one around him, he was always brimming with such love and even those who disagreed with him could not deny that if Ionatan spoke correction it was always because he cared to deeply to be silent.
Indeed nothing would have come to pass had not a person full of contempt overheard him speaking to his long time friend Lazar, but needless to say he was overheard.
It was summer when it began, they were sitting at a café in Alba, debating as the friends loved to do, but also being entirely truthful with one another.
“I realize that you condemn my life style Ionatan, but it is who I am this temptation as you call it, there I times I want to overcome it but I cannot.” said Lazar
Ionatan listened with traces of sorrow in his eyes, “It may be cliché to say this, but when you are weak then He is strong, you believe that don’t you?” he asked.
Pain was an evident response, “Don’t you find it strange that I do believe that? That I do long to serve Him as you do? That I long to sing in that worship team of yours and come to church and not be condemned for what I am?” he lamented.
“I know you do, but you know where the church stands on this, where God stands on this. Of course you may come, we will not condemn you Lazar, you are welcome and we will help you if you ever would like our help” said Ionatan with such sincerity.
Lazar sighed, “You’ve shown this to me by not turning your back on me like some when I told you,” he paused in thoughfulness, “I’ve been thinking long and hard, and I want to change, some would say I cannot change but I do, I really do, but I’m afraid, what if I fail, what if I fall back into my lifestyle, what will happen then?”
Ionatan smiled a brilliant smile, “Then, my friend we surround you and help you get back up, don’t think for one minute your more of a sinner then I am or anyone else in that church or on this earth for that matter. Lazar, there will be times you will fall, but God always waits for you to take His hand, He wait for you to let Him help you.”
So the conversation went, as what seemed impossible was becoming possible, yet each word spoken was being stored away in the mind of Congressman Ioan, who clearly saw this as brainwashing hogwash of religion, an infringement on Lazar’s rights, not fully accepting that Lazar did indeed make his own choice.
With a passionate hate he petitioned for laws to be passed, the hate speech laws, the laws that soon prohibited religion to be discussed in schools, it all came slowly at first. It all had began with Ionatan’s trial, which was lost due to it now being against the law to preach against what the church believed was wrong, like homosexuality, abortion and such. It didn’t matter that the church did not force anyone to enter it’s doors, it did not matter at all, and Ionatan was imprisoned, sentenced to five years in prison. Yet that would have been nothing compared to the onslaught Ioan had brought back upon his country. Soon the anti religious decrees and propaganda began once more, equality was preached again that each person was entitled to only what the government said was good and that meant the same wages for all, rations, but most horribly persecution came back to Romania.
Seraph saw it all, and looked towards the heavens, he had sounded the alarm with his aroma of prayers. Yet he could not make the choice for all to listen to it, Pastors of the churches each were faced with choices to compromise and preach only what was allowed and what was pleasing or speak what they believed and face prison and surely even torture. Still the angels fought, the Dark Ones mocked as some of the humans succumbed to their whispers, yet still Seraph continued in intercession, for surely help would come God would surely raise one to save these people. He saw the ones led away each day from their families with tears staining their eyes, alongside them walked the angels draped in brilliant white robes carrying alabaster bottles that soon soared to heaven’s throne.


-----------------------------


I walked with Hadassah through the halls of Drottningholm Palace, my violin in my hands, our feet clip clopping along the marble floors, soon we reached our favorite place to unwind and relax, where books upon books tempted us and soothed us all at once.
She had a pleasant smile on her face, of one who may perhaps be falling in love. The Prince and Hadassah had been inseparable as often as possible drawing closer each time they united their hearts in Nobody’s Child Outreach. Each time he saw her holding a woman that was battered and bruised and without hope, each time she wiped the tear of an orphan, each time they provided together new homes for the homeless their bond strengthened. Though their times together were not as often as each would have preferred still the moments they had were priceless treasures.
We sat in the comfortable loveseats closest to the window, and it tore at my heart that her smile may soon falter.
“What will you play this time Raphael?” she asked.
Unclasping the case and with much care and love I took out the ancient violin, “Listen Hadassah, pay attention to the images you will see, they will call to you, your purpose only now begins, but it is your choice whether to hear. The melody is called First Cry.”


CHAPTER NINE


“We all know that books will burn -- yet we have the greater knowledge that books cannot be killed by fire. People die, but books never die. No man and no force can abolish memory…” ----Franklin D. Roosevelt


John 15:20 "Remember the word that I said to you, ' A slave is not greater than his master ' If they persecuted Me, they will also persecute you; if they kept My word, they will keep yours also.


Hadassah listened enraptured by the melody, she could swear she heard more then just Raphael’s violin, it was as if an entire orchestra had joined in. The notes soared high, some of the notes seemed like piercing screams, others were low and heart-breaking, still others were sweet and comforting. But it was not only what she could hear, it was what she could now see, she blinked yet the images refused to fade, in fact they became clearer, the focus became sharp almost as if she was there.
First there was a regal woman, her beauty was unfathomable, she had rich dark flowing hair similar to her own, her eyes were a luscious green, like a rainforest. Her clothing was ancient it seemed, she was draped in rich silks white with intricate gold designs throughout the sheer pattern, on her head rested a beautiful crown shaped like lilies of the valley that looked so delicate and perfect. Though it was clear of what her stature was there was a fear in her eyes, and her chin trembled as she tried to subdue it. She walked across marble floors, past golden pillars, past hanging gardens, past so much splendor, with an authority given to her by the God and the angels she did not see, the God she prayed to for strength, but for what Hadassah wondered?
Soon this young beauty, she must not have been more then eighteen, maybe younger, soon she entered a royal court filled with scribes, advisors, petitioners, and countless gawking observers. Pausing only slightly to take a breath, hoping it would fill her with courage she continued, disregarding the shocked gasps filling and echoing like ripples through the crowd. The king, looked about him in confusion, not fully understanding yet what caused this reaction, had he said something unjust? Had he passed a decree that would shatter his kingdom? Then his eyes widened as realization sank in and a dread filled him at a rapid rate, for here came the one he had chosen above so many, un-summoned, and thus according to the law sealed her own fate. His mind seemed in a fog as it raced for a way out, a way to save his gentle, stubborn queen. All too soon she reached him, standing then quickly bowing with her face touching the marble floor, as no queen ever had bowed before, and swords were drawn ready to strike.
He snatched his scepter from besides his throne almost without thinking, it was as natural reaction as breathing, no thought whatsoever to political repercussions, he extended it for her to touch. The swords were blocked by the very scepter, the courageous queen lifted her head, as tears flowed down her flawless cheeks she touched the scepter and gave an audible sigh of relief.
“Tell me why you have come, tell me what you desire for it will be yours,” said the King.
“Please,” she began, then paused as if rethinking how she should proceed, “My beloved Ahasuerus, I would be honored to be graced by your presence at a dinner in your honor, would you join my household on the morrow?”
He laughed, such a joyful, relieved laughed. He turned to the gaping crowd who still did not seem to dare to breathe and spoke loudly so that all could clearly hear, “You see how your Queen honors me? Do you see? She cared not for her own life, she came to me unannounced seeking my presence, do you see the love your Queen bears for me?”
The crowd did not know how to respond. He took hold of his Queen delicately and gently lifting her up to stand besides him, “You should all be honored and thankful to have such a Queen as this!” he bellowed. “For as she loves me, I guarantee she loves you! Hail to my Star, Queen Esther!”
A cheer like rolling crackling thunder exploded from the crowd…..
The music continued as the images intertwined with one another, whizzing by faster as if on fast-forward, the same queen with a child in her hands, a king assassinated, a banished queen, the child growing, another generation being born, and another and another… each time the same strength and boldness was reborn. Until Hadassah herself gasped as she saw another Esther, only her name was Estera, the symphony thundered now and then a much needed pause before the finally as Estera gave herself for the ultimate King of kings… leaving behind Hadassah.
Hadassah’s own life was shown only in brief glimpses, a child being taken by train out of Romania by a young man who was her own cousin Iosua, their arival in Sweden, Iosua taking the role of a father, Raphael ever watchful from a distance, heart break after heart break, time and time and time again of being passed over until her heart could endure no more. Until she longed so much for the arms of loving parents, until she longed she had not turned her back on her cousin who had tried to shield her and prepare her for what she was but did not realize… the song, oh the melody, oh!
Then only silence, and images fading, yet peace remained no matter how much they had hurt to see.
Questions overflowed within her and she did not know which to ask, or if she should ask. With caution she lifted her eyes and met Raphael’s knowing ones.
“Why do you show me this now? What does this mean?”
He smiled, but his smile was weaker then usual tinged with sorrow lurking beneath it, “You must know who you are, you must know who you need to be, much is soon to be required of you… just as it has been with each woman in your family.” he answered.
“Why am I cursed?” she asked, remembering too many images of death.
He shook his head, “Not cursed, never cursed, you have been blessed to stand in the gap, to speak for those who have no voice, for those who’s voice has been silenced.”
Hadassah thought on each word, absorbing them slowly, then accepting the truth that rang in each one.
“What must I--” but before she could finish a knock came on the library door before it opened.
A kind faced servant came in holding the hand of a child who looked around her in awe before her eyes rested on Hadassah.
“Madam Marcu, I have brought you most important appointment to you, the child Karina from ALLMÄNNA BARNHUSET, she has been selected for the day with the Queen above all others from the orphanage.” The servant smiled as if she was escorting royalty into the royal library, and indeed she was, Hadassah thought, for what was more royal then a child of God?
Hadassah beckoned for the child to join her, took her gently by the hand as if they were long lost sisters, and turned to Raphael, “Today I stand in the gap for this child, tomorrow we will speak of where else I need to stand.” Then she turned and walked with a child, today little Karina would see and not forget the kindness of the Royal Family, nor would she forget Hadassah the beautiful lady who made it all happen.


_______________________

After she left I knelt, for I was drained, so much would now change… but here, only here is where the battle would truly begin, and only here kneeling in prayer to the Almighty would victory be won.. But not without sacrifice, not without tears, and not without fire.

_______________________

The letter had first reached Victor Vulpes who was now a chaplain and close friend of the Royals. He recalled so clearly the moment his life had changed, the moment he had finally found purpose, the moment… oh that precious moment when two souls had given their lives to save others, and unbeknownst to them had also saved his heart and soul. Victor had fled then, not yet brave enough to stand for his newfound faith, when communism had fallen in Romania he had rejoiced, and now holding this blasted letter he mourned, for as Solomon himself had said “What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done; there is nothing new under the sun.” So it was for Romania, it’s short time of freedom had again been stripped, again the small country was at battle for its own soul. Victor wondered if he should show this to Raphael? Determined he started for the gardens which were now covered in a thin blanket of snow and found Raphael kneeling near the fountain tears streaming down his face, when his eyes met Victor’s he understood that the letter was not delivering news he had not known only confirming what unseen messengers already told.


CHAPTER TEN

Song of Solomon 2:10
"My beloved responded and said to me,' Arise, my darling, my beautiful one,And come along.”


“If virtue accompanies beauty it is the hearts paradise; if vice be associate with it, it is the soul's purgatory. It is the wise man's bonfire, and the fool's furnace.” --- Francis Quarles


“Alright Karina, would you please wait here? I’m just going down the hall to see if the queen is ready for her special visit with you, okay honey?” Hadassah asked the charming child. The child had long golden hair that were plaited into two braids, her blue eyes were smooth and clear as water tinged with sorrow kept at bay.
The child nodded, sat down in the engraved chair beside the door leading to the next hallway. As Hadassah opened the door and looked back one more time she saw that Karina had begun fiddling with her hands, a slight nervous tremor running through her, for she would meet the queen.
Hadassah had a satisfied smile on her face as she made her way down the long hall leading to the office of Queen Silvia, today she would have the honor of showing a child how precious she was, that she was not just an orphan, that she was Karina, the girl who met the queen.
As she raised her hand to knock on the door her hand stilled as she heard persistent voices arguing, but in a civil controlled manner.
“No.” said a voice that had become as familiar to her as her own, it held a stubbornness in it that she had heard so often, it was filled with the same determination he had used each time he plead a case for raising funds for the forgotten, a voice that not so many could stand up to… that is none but the Queen.
“Give her a chance at least Philip, she is a royal, Princess Zara is also a beauty, at least consider an official meeting.” Queen Silvia reasoned with her son and Hadassah’s heart stood in her throat, she knew she shouldn’t be listening, but she couldn’t help it. Already disappointment seeped through her, it was inevitable, she had known that this friendship with Philip could lead no where…yet still she had hoped, as she always did, when would she ever learn, she chided herself.
“No.” said Philip simply.
The Queen sighed in exasperation, “Well why not? We are in need of an alliance with England and she is a very wanted, much sought after young lady, so tell me why?”
Silence.
“Do I really need to answer that? And are we still living in the dark ages of arranged marriages?” Philip demanded, his indignation just barely controlled.
“Don’t tell me, oh but of course! It’s Hadassah! You my dear son have been obsessed with her--”
“Mother!”
“Do not mother me Philip, while I love Hadassah with all my heart for the sweet natured child that she is, she has no royal blood, she’s an orphan with no lineage.” his mother laid out the case plainly, the truth of which burnt at Hadassah’s soul.
“She may not be a princess of royal blood as we define it mother,” started Philip, “but in my heart she is more then that, and to the poor she ministers to she’s become their princess just as if she were Victoria or Madeline, no! Even more so she has become as a Queen to these poor forgotten ones, for salvation, grace, deliverence, mercy and hope follow her as if she were wearing a royal robe, love crowns her.” Philip presented his case and it was evident he was ranting with a passion, determined to show his mother who Hadassah was.
“A Queen, Philip?” Queen Silvia’s voice tinged on the brink of anger, for it was her name he had slandered.
“Mother, you misunderstand me, I meant no offense,” his voice softened.
“Even so, you will meet Zara Philips of England.” she insisted.
“No.”
At that moment Hadassah remembered Karina, she knocked on the door and heard two voices answer simultaneously, “Come.”
She pushed the door opened, trying her best not to give away that she had heard so much.
“Your Majesty,” she began with a slight bow of her head, “the child Karina is ready to meet you, she awaits, she is so nervous and excited to meet you.” she rambled putting a little to much cheerfulness in her tone which earned a gracefully raise eyebrow from the queen.
She sighed and proceeded towards the door, as she did so Hadassah hear her say under her breath, “Indeed a Queen of hearts,” though there was not so much bitterness in it, just tiredness of a battle lost.
Hadassah turned to follow after her, but Philip took hold of her hand causing her to tense in fear that he would see the pain in her eyes. She did not want to be the one to bring Philip down or hold him back, and if she allowed him to love her that would be precisely what she would do.
As she met his eyes he studied her for a moment in that silence that he always kept when he was analyzing something, “You heard.” he simply stated.
To him she could never lie, so she nodded shamefully, looking at the floor studying the intricate designs on the red velvety carpet which was so thick you could sink into it, which was in fact exactly what she wanted to do.
“I will not hold you back Philip.” she declared, at which he opened his mouth to protest but already she turned and hurried out of the room afraid tears would come.
She ran, stopping only at her room which was fit for a princess, to grab her winter coat, then fled to the snow covered garden, which seemed like a castle in itself only covered in the cold bitter snow. Though it was only a little after three, it was dark, but her path was lighted by the elegant streetlamps that led to the garden. It was there that she ran into me, falling into my arms sobbing, further breaking my own heart to pieces, as she recounted all. But what tore at me more was that now I too would add to her sorrow, and just as the Queen demanded Philip to raise to his station, so I was now calling Hadassah to raise to hers. For she did indeed have royal blood, more so then even this family could hold, yet it was not to be revealed nor flaunted, for it was not yet time.
“Uprisings and imprisonments have begun in your birth country Hadassah,” I said to her, “children are orphaned each day, and the time has come for an intercessor. In two days time we will travel to Buchurest if the Royals permit, you must now seek their permission and blessing.”
Struggling to hold on and not slip we began to walk the path into the palace, my arm was around her and her head rested on my shoulder, there were no objections from her, no, not even one. Her soul submitted as if it needed something to submit to so she wouldn’t sink in pain of yet another one being chosen over her, I could feel her doubts, I could feel her silent screams welling up within her, but she refused to give way to them. On the outside she was an image of pure calmness, only her tears which were now ice cold on her cheeks would give way that anything was amiss.
“Not today,” I said and she looked up questioningly, “you will not seek out permission from them today, there is much preparation first, and a battle cry to be sounded by getting on our knees.” I explained as we entered the palace.
“What preparation?” she asked after we had passed the row of guards and turned now standing before her quarters.
“If you want to be victorious, you begin on your knees or else you will have only defeat after defeat after defeat.” I stated and it seemed as if a light was turned on, and her eyes sparkled.
Opening the door to her room she turned to me, embraced me, “Then now I will kneel before my King.” she stated, then turned and softly closed the door leaving me amazed at her obedience and strength. She would not fail, not this descendant of the star of Persia.


_________________________


The next morning the sun made it’s brief appearance, indeed the light of day would only last until a little after two. Hadassah greeted me in the private dining room of my suite for a breakfast of pannkakor, Swedish crepes, topped with loganberries and cream. Her face was graced with serenity I had not yet seen on her before which worried me all the more, for there seemed to be something that she knew that I did not, and usually I was in the know.
“Raphael?’ she said in an almost whisper.
“Yes?”
“After we leave,” she began drawing in breath and gaining courage, “after we leave, could you please arrange for this to be given to Philip by someone you trust?”
Carefully I took the envelope from her hands, turning it over and over, “What is it?” I asked in curiosity.
She smiled mischievously yet sadly, “It is so he will understand, when things will be hardest to understand, when confusion comes, it is so he sees…” her voice trailed off.
I could not speak, for there was a foreboding I didn’t like, as I saw two regal angels appear on each side of her and lock eyes with mine, each put their hand on one of her shoulders, as they did so she rose, just as Queen Esther did, the night she went to beseech the King.


CHAPTER ELEVEN

“They came first for the Communists,
And I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a Communist.
Then they came for the Jews,
And I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a Jew.
Then they came for the Trade Unionists,
And I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a trade unionist.
Then they came for the Catholics,
And I didn’t speak up because I was a Protestant.
Then they came for me,
And by that time no one was left to speak up.”
-------Martin Niemoeller
(from The Cry of Mordecai by Robert Stearns)

Jeremiah 6:16
Thus says the LORD, "Stand by the ways and see and ask for the ancient paths, Where the good way is, and walk in it; And you will find rest for your souls. But they said, 'We will not walk in it.'


The day lay heavy upon her, so much so that she did not want to raise from her luxurious bed, but the sun came through the blue gold curtains and demanded she awake. Late into the previous night she and Raphael had spoken of what must be done, she was still unsure what difference she would make, for she had not resided in Romania since she was an infant. Then she had been brought here by her cousin Iosua, on who she had turned her back on in the past few years, whom now she deeply missed and wanted so much to make amends with.
Raphael had explained to her how the Christians and Jews of Romania had sent petitions to Victor Vulpes to speak on their behalf to Hadassah that she may intercede for them, and perhaps somehow come with help. There was a superstition or rumor or a prophecy, who knew of a Queen who would come and be their salvation, how silly Hadassah thought, for though Queen Silvia loved her country and had a deep compassion for the refugees that needed shelter, she could never imagine the Queen risking her life going to a country in such turmoil. But Hadassah would go now, today, and petition the King and Queen to give her authority to go on a mercy mission, a fact gathering mission which perhaps later could be followed by an action plan to rescue her country from the shackles of oppression. Philip must not know for he would never allow it, she determined, and this would give him time to consider his mother’s suggestion, she would not begrudge him if he chose another, after all he had to think of his country first and foremost.
Pushing aside the thick silky blue covers that shimmered when the light hit them, she walked to her closet, which could have been a room and a half in itself, and decided on an elegant sapphire blue pantsuit trimmed in gold. Dressing quickly she then stood before the full-size mirror in the living room of her suite, then decided to complete her outfit with the beautiful queen Anne style earrings also perfectly matching in color her suit. Just then as if he knew a knock sounded at the door, she slipped into her dress shoes, that of course would wake the entire palace as she would walk across the marble floors, and went to open her door.
She gasped.
Silence engulfed her stealing her breath away, but soon she regained her composure and hid her fear with her new found confidence.
“How did you get in here?” she demanded.
He smiled mockingly, it looked horrible on him and Hadassah couldn’t fathom why she had ever been charmed by such a fool and deceiver as him.
“I just told them that I’m your fiancée, that you were just dying to see me, as I see you are darling.” Johan said.
“You said what!! You fool! Johan you are no such thing to me as you very well remember!” her voice trembled with indignation, and despite her determination to fear not, the terror crept in.
Johan harrumphed, “Well, they don’t know that, besides darling, that’s all in the past.” he said with an air of command that he always had he swept past her into the room closing the door.
He turned around, studying each part of her quarters, leaving Hadassah feeling helpless as she always felt around him.
“My, my, my, how the low have risen.” he finally stated, each of his words leaving her shamed though she could not explain why. Yes, she knew, she was not worth a second look, yet still somehow Philip had showed her this was not it. Oh! Philip, what would he think if it got to him, this lie of Johan’s, would he believe it?
“If God sees fit to put me here then here I remain Johan, and you are a thing of my past, you will leave now.” I said trying to steady my voice, showing him my fear would only feed him what he wanted, what he relished.
“Indeed, you will remain here, I’ve heard little whispers of you leaving the country to be a little hero, as if you could make one iota of difference.. No, no you will indeed remain here my darling.” with his words darkness filled her soul.
“No, I will go to my country for there I was born, you will not dictate what, where or when I go, do I make myself clear?” I said full of disdain and contempt, how dare he come after what he had done to her, after he had cast her aside as a nobody, as a worthless nobody?
Before she could register what was happening he took her with both hands wrapping around her slender neck throwing her against the wall knocking the wind out of her, “You will do as I say!” he bellowed.
With moves that had become like breathing to her in the past months she raised her hand between where his hands were grasping her neck and with as much force as she could muster she brought her elbows down right at his wrists earning a wince of surprise. Without waiting a moment of hesitation as soon as his hands were no longer touching her neck she slammed the palm of her hand into his nose causing his hands to go up to stop the flow of blood that had already begun. Still she did not stop the fear was carousing through her, she had sworn she would never be a victim again, not of his, not of anybody’s, with that determination, she formed a fist with her right hand and slammed it into his temple then followed by a knee kick once more making contact with his face, then she pushed him to the ground and fled out the door.
Umph! She ran into something, no, someone, she raised her eyes in more fear and cold trembles overtook her, almost too afraid to look up, but still, she did.
The eyes he saw had worry written in them and then he looked beyond her to where Johan was laying in pain on her dining room carpet. Then his arms enveloped her, not asking any questions, as if what he saw was answer enough he called over his shoulder, “GUARDS!!!!”
Stomping, rushing feet quickly came our way and skidded to a stop right in front of us, each of the Royal Guard drawing to quick attention at the sight of Prince Philip.
“Your majesty?” the captain inquired.
Philip motioned with his hands towards her door that was still ajar, “Please Captain Svenson take care of the filth in this room.” he said with disgust.
The Captain and his men began to enter the room, but Philip put a hand on his shoulder momentarily stopping him, “Oh and Captain?”
“Yes your majesty?” it was almost comical how small the captain’s voice seemed.
“In the future I want guards stationed at all times here, and also at least one to escort her wherever she goes, is that understood?”
Captain Svenson nodded, and entered the room, along with the guards they dragged Johan out as Johan attempted to struggle against them, but thank God it was no use.
Philip turned to Hadassah and continued looking from her to the now empty hall where her dreaded attacker had been. Wonder filled his eyes, then pride, and then a smile lit up his face, “Well my dear Hadassah you are indeed an Arwen, remind me to always stand on your good side.” he chuckled and she fell into his arms also laughing, but soon the laughter turned into uncontrollable sobs.
He lead her inside and sat her down on the sofa, he kept holding her stroking her hair as if she were a child, and she felt secure and safe in his arms.
When the sobs subsided he asked, “Would you tell me who that was? For he most certainly was not your fiancée.”
Sighing she tried to explain, “He was my past, my fearsome past that I never wanted to see again. He was one who I had loved but he crushed me and hurt me in every way possible.”
In response to her words anger filled Philip’s blue eyes. No more words were needed at the moment to explain what once had been, and he continued to stroke her hair. “Yet still, you handled him quite well, perhaps better even then a royal guard, how?” he questioned.
Hadassah smiled, for at this she could, this had been the one thing that had lifted her and given her confidence and stole away her fear in the past few months. “Classes, Karate Classed my dear.” she even giggled as she said it for the words did indeed sound silly.
“Karate? Now when did my busy little Samaritan Queen have time for that?” he asked with his dark eyebrows raised clearly impressed.
“Ha! With the orphan children of course, so many of them had been battered previously, and also with the women at the shelters, I have petitioned that the state pay for their enrollment with ATA Karate as I believe no child or woman, or even man for that matter should be left without the tools to defend themselves. So, I have learned with as much passion as them, for I was battered just as they were.” She explained.
“Hmmm and why was I not invited?” he demanded jokingly.
“Bah! You with your navy training would need this? I assumed you already had courses such as these, I didn’t want to bore you or pile on more things on your to-do.”
“I--”
A knock sounded at the door and Hadassah tensed. Philip got up to answer. Raphael entered, shook hands with the prince and exchanged greetings then turned to Hadassah.
“The King and Queen are ready to see you now.” he stated as he extended his hand towards her, Hadassah rose unknowingly imitating the Esther of old in her regal posture, even Philip gasped in awe for it seemed that for a brief split second there was an actual glow about her.
She stopped only once at the door where Philip stood, “Goodbye my love.” with which she planted a kiss tenderly on his cheek,

----------------------------------------------------------


Johan seethed in the jail cell where he now resided. Dark shadows surrounded him, which he could see clearly and he welcomed them. He would sound his own battle cry, and the Dark Ones would indeed respond for he commanded them, they were his pawns, or so he thought. He was a watchman as well though for an entirely different side, for the side that would undoubtedly win this war, and Hadassah would regret this day, oh yes, yes she would. Sure Johan had been unprepared for Hadassah, had even been caugh unawares, who could have thought that such a low life would know how to defend herself? She hadn’t in the past. Oh well. He might not have been able to prevent her from leaving the country, so she would leave with ease… ha! But her return, well that was a different matter entirely.


CHAPTER TWELVE

Psalm 11:2
For, behold, the wicked bend the bow, They make ready their arrow upon the string To shoot in darkness at the upright in heart.

“In faith there is enough light for those who want to believe and enough shadows to blind those who don't.” --- Blaise Pascal


Before the King and Queen, Hadassah had displayed a humble attitude that always warmed their hearts, and my whole being hurt, for she begged them to be allowed to go into a territory that now posed so much threat to her own being, but perhaps she didn’t fully grasp this yet.
Queen Silvia at first saw this as an opportunity for Philip to grow apart from the one he had grown too close to, yet Silvia loved Hadassah as her own in so many ways, for she displayed a love for Sweden and it’s people as if she had been born here. She could not deny that Philip’s own devotion for his country had grown since he had encountered Hadassah, and the thought of her leaving somewhere far away, apart from their assured protection tore at a piece of the Queen’s heart.
“No, Hadassah, we cannot allow you to go, someone will be sent as a liaison however it will not be you, the outreach here fully needs you.” she stated and King Carl Gustaf nodded in agreement knowing full well how his daughters have grown close to her and how they turned to Hadassah when stress in the kingdom or stress of the paparazzi got high.
Tears shimmered in her eyes as she responded to their decision, she wouldn’t accept no for an answer, “I have been requested by name because I was born there, because my parents were the last before the revolution to… to have died as a result of communism, please trust that all will be well, I would not travel unguarded, God takes care of His own.”
They had been going back and forth like this for quite some time now, but now there was silence.
“Besides, your Majesties, I am well aware how Philip feels for me, all present in this room know that if we were both just another common man and woman that would be alright. But he is anything but common, and the distance between us might make him understand that what we have can be nothing more then this beautiful friendship.” she said so quietly that each had to strain their ears just to hear her. Sorrow took an unwanted form on each face.
Once more the King nodded as did the Queen, but the queen rose from behind the conference table that had been separating them and came around to where Hadassah sat, she kneeled before her taking her face lovingly in hers, “You my dear are not as common as you may think of yourself, although true the words you speak, please do not offend us by thinking we think less of you, for in a heartbeat our entire family would adopt you as our own.”
The King listened and turned his face towards the thickly draped windows, lest any should notice the diamond tear threatening to escape the confines of his own eyes. He cleared his throat and also rose.
“Indeed she speaks the truth, yet still if you insist, we will acquiesce to your desire, only return safely to us, and travel no where without your guards, is that understood young lady?” he demanded in as harsh a tone as he could muster.
Hadassah nodded and sighed, she wanted to hug them for they had become so much like parents to her, their kind hearts was a balm to her, yet still there was a barrier she did not want to cross.
“One more request I have, today I will leave, but please Philip cannot know until after I leave, for you well know he would not allow it, please.” she begged.
Both the Royals looked at each other then reluctantly nodded towards Hadassah.
So she and I rose, both of u took our leave of each of them with warm embraces that they would not let us leave without, with me swearing to protect her.
Hadassah passed through the door and was already in the hall as I turned one last look at the Royal couple and heard the king say, “Oh dear Silvia, if I was Philip I would make Hadassah the queen of my heart…” his voice trailed off as I closed the door lightly behind me.
We walked briskly beneath ceilings that were carved with intricate designs, the glassy marble floor was echoing our footsteps as we made our way to Hadassah’s suite. The immensity of the palace overwhelmed me for the moment as whispers echoed everywhere sputtering hate and fear, I began to hum as I always did and they crouched behind corners their voices subdued. It was not yet their time.
Entering her rooms, she halted and turned to me, with sad haunting eyes, “So now we leave?” It was not so much a question as it was her stating a fact she was trying to grasp.
I nodded as I followed her inside, took hold of her small carry-on luggage, “Are you ready?”
Summoning courage she breathed deep and said a soft, “Yes.” But before stepping back out of the room she surveyed it as if trying to memorize each beautiful, elegant detail of it, as one would try to hang on to a good dream that one would not want to wake from. Shivers rushed through me once more, though as before I didn’t understand how fear could make its way in me, or try to.
“The private jet awaits us at the Arlanda airport, once we get to Bucuresti we will visit Ionatan at the Penitenciarul Jilava , the Jilava jail.” I stated.
Hadassah trembled slightly but just as quick as the fear had appeared her countenance changed into one of tranquility, and I know that she had prayed, that she had armored herself for the unknown before her.
We reached the limousine that would take us to the airport, two guards stepped in with us and we knew they would escort us throughout Romania, faithful to protect with their very lives, a gift of protection form the generous Royals of Sweden.


___________________________________


He grew tired of waiting, he was unaccustomed to patience and he shouldn’t have to endure it, still if Ioan was right they would be here within hours and Damian would certainly ensure that this ridiculous mercy mission of theirs would be foiled. This was their country to do as they chose. Finally the time had come that Romania was finally going to be purged of the narrow minded Nazarene followers. Indeed they had endured enough of the “Thou shalt not this, and thou shalt not that.” True freedom was being created, sure, it was true also that for the Nazarenes it meant removal but they had practically begged for this outcome.
It was laughable that Raphael was once more entering the country after he had fled it with the so called precious bundle. Ha! Promise keeper to the end. In Damian’s mind it was incomprehensible what the point was, she had been one little life, what was the fuss all about? Well, now he knew, he had once been a fool, but no longer.
Damian kept watch from the black Dacia trying to keep warm. He let out a low inhuman growl as a dark one took a seat on the passenger side, its wings spanned out, passing through the car, dripping blood at the tips. It had a hungry look in its eyes.
“You will not fail this time.” It said.
Damian smiled, “With your legions on our side of course we will not fail.”
It gave a menacing growl, “So long as you remember to give worship where it is due, we are at your service.” It’s eyes burned red like a pool of blood, smirking and unnerving Damian. This mutual ‘friendship’ was indeed slippery, these dark ones always had to be kept on a leash, lest they forgot who controlled them, Damian thought.
“Yes, so long as the Prince of the Powers of the Air remembers his end of the bargain.” he responded in kind.
Infuriated the creature responded, “You are his watchman, his top one at that, do not disappoint him, and when he ascends to his rightful throne you may be there with him.” The beast cackled the disappeared, as if mocking him.
Breathing hard he tried to focus once more surveying the area. The car was parked directly in front of the Otopeni airport in Bucurest, it would not be hard to spot them, as the not so little Hadassah had made quite a name for herself she would be flanked on all sides by admirer as soon as she set foot on this soil, as if she were one of the House of Bernadette. It was pathetic how this country always wanted to idolize something, or someone, still this would be used to his advantage. Following them would not attract any extra attention when everyone else was pursuing them.
Soon Raphael and Hadassah would not be the salvation of this country, they would be this country’s destruction as each flea would be brought out for extermination.


______________________________________


She gasped.
I put a comforting hand on her shoulder, as the plane touched down, “It’s alright, we’ve landed.”
She shivered, as her eyes opened and met his locking for a long moment.
Finally she spoke. “It’s not what it seems.”


CHAPTER THIRTEEN


Genesis 4:9 Then the LORD said to Cain, “Where is Abel your brother?” And he said, “I do not know. Am I my brother’s keeper?”

"Sweet shall be your rest if your heart does not reproach you." ---- Thomas A Kempis


Damian impatiently tapped the steering wheel in an annoying little beat that annoyed even him, yet he continued. He hated having to play cat and mouse, he was not one for games, nor did he want to begin playing them now. As he sat and thought, with the minutes ticking away a new idea dawned on him. Looking in the mirror he studied himself bored, his own darkened blue eyes stared back at him, as if he was mocking himself, what a silly little thought. Running a hand through his dark night black hair, he decided to go with the former plan and ditch the amateur one of following, ha! As if they wouldn’t notice or expect that. Indeed, a light bulb illuminated within him and he smiled his charming yet unsettling smile, no there was no need to follow.

_____________________________


“What’s not as it seems?” I asked stricken by the raw fear embedded on her face. She rose from her leather seat and shook her head as if to clear it, “Nothing, it must be nothing, but just for a moment..” but she didn’t finish, could not complete her thoughts it seemed
Giving a nervous smile I took hold of her baggage, “Come then, our ride is waiting for us already.” I said.
Our two royal guards followed us, ever watchful, for which I was thankful, for though she had not completed her thought it rattled me, there was something I should be seeing yet it was unclear what that was.
Disembarking we made our way through customs and unlike the times before when I had passed through here before the security officers gave us no problem at all. Royal approval may have had something to do with that, I thought.
It was odd to be flanked by royal guards, though of course they were dressed in normal attire, they still carried with them a don’t mess with me or those around me fearsomeness. Looking at them closely if you dared you would see hard blue eyes, both with the same wheat colored hair and almost the same height, taller then me, it was almost like looking at human counterparts of the angels I often saw.
Silently I offered a prayer of protection to heaven, for God knew we would now need it, we were on enemy turf.
“Do no fear Raphael, for I am with you until the end of time.” a voice so familiar whispered in my ear. Though there was no one to be seen around me, not even the angels I knew with certainty who the voice belonged to, and it soothed my troubled soul. His voice always came when it was most needed throughout the ages that I’d gone through, and I was honored to hear it now.
“Thank you.” I whispered.
Hadassah looked at me but when I offered no explanation she just nodded in understanding.
We exited through the right terminal of Otopeni airport, there were of course only two terminals here, and neither had a name, it was dubbed simply the right terminal and the left terminal, one for arrivals and one for departures. Cold winter air greeted us with an overcast sky, the plants that normally attempted to beautify the airport were sleeping the deadly sleep of winter, waiting to be born once more with the kiss of spring. All along the side walk there were taxis and Dacia’s awaiting eagerly for their passengers, and there leaning against a black Dacia stood my fellow watchman who had been so silent all these years.
I had expected to see Seraph awaiting us, but still I was glad to see him instead. Always I had wondered about his silence, it had never been his style to not be heard, yet all these years, no matter how much I longed to hear from him there was never a word.
He smiled his unnerving smile and looking at Hadassah I knew she was charmed. Damian always had that affect over those he watched, especially the ladies it seemed.
“It’s been to long brother.” I said in greeting.
“Indeed, brother.” he said, if I was not mistaken there was also a bit of an edge to his voice.
His eyes studied me and then drifted to Hadassah, drinking her in with his eyes, completely ignoring the guards.
“You, my dear must be the acclaimed one who has won the heart of Sweden.” he said.
Humbly, she dipped her head and blushed, “I’m Hadassah, and you are?”
Taking hold of her hand he brought it to his lips and kissed it gently, “I am my brother’s keeper,” he replied rather coyly, then laughed lightly, “I’m Damon, a fellow watchman.”
With that, he motioned for us to enter the small Dacia, with me sitting in the front, Hadassah in the back in the middle, with a guard on either side. Damon stuffed her luggage in the excruciatingly small trunk then hopped behind the wheel.
“Where to?” he asked.
“Penitenciarul Jilava.” I replied.
“Oh? You will visit Ionatan?”
“Of course, it is after we offer some much needed encouragement to him that we will go where the battle begins.” I stated, somehow though I felt the need to keep silent as to where exactly that was.
The trip was silent for most of the way, yet I studied my brother, so many thoughts had been spend wondering what had happened that day, the day communism had fallen. Damon had grown weary of the battle, at times even alarmingly angry, it was as if he wished his long life would be cut short. I remembered when it began, when he had failed to see danger approach for the first time and his charge had fallen, forced into exile. King Michael, his wife Anne and their five beautiful daughters, banished from Romania, no matter how Damon had interceded and prayed he had not sounded the alarm when the battle for the kingdom had first begun, indeed, he had failed to see the danger. He had been to enamored with Princes Maria, ironically blinded by love, and so the kingdom fell to tyrants, and Damon had faded into his own exile.
My own heart hurt for him, yet a watchman was a watchman, and always I had to watch, for the enemy lurked and never slept, so much was at stake, even now.
So now, looking out the window as the ancient yet modern city rushed by, I prayed, for though once Damon had been as any older brother my guardian and keeper in so many ways, I felt the tide change, where now I was indeed my brother’s keeper.


CHAPTER FOURTEEN


“Remember those in chains as if you are bound with them.”--- Richard Wurmbrand


Galatians 2: 20 I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself up for me.


Entering the Jilava Penitentiary proved to be more difficult especially when we made it known we were visiting Ionatan, the much hated so called revolutionary.
“We have been instructed that no one is to see this prisoner,” a security officer stated with much stubbornness but also contempt, “That means no one, no matter who you think yourselves to be.” he finished intending that this should be the end of the discussion.
“We are not just anybody, we have expressed permission from the prime minister that Hadassah can and should see this prisoner.” I stated, with just as much determination.
“The Prime Minister?” scoffed the officer. “It is orders such as these that will one day land that hypocrite here, and hopefully soon.”
Chills spiraled their way through my entire body, for it seemed this country’s foundations that in years past had been rebuilt were crumbling once more, it was mind boggling to even think of.
“Even so, Officer Lucian, you must understand that much is at stake, Romania’s treaty with Sweden as a matter of fact, and if I am not mistaken this country though rich in beauty is not so rich in finances that it can afford that.” said Hadassah surprising even me with her firm boldness. Once more I realized how much she had developed and grown, she was no longer an orphan afraid of her own shadows, in fact her fearlessness not only amazed me but scared me as well.
“Politics is not my place, what I know are my strict orders, and I will not risk my position.” stated Lucian.
Damon just stood behind us observing, and I thought how great it would be if he could use his gift of persuasion to help in this situation, yet he stood ever silent, perhaps praying for his head was bowed.
We did not budge.
“Before you make this rash decision which would cost you the very job you seek to keep, be so kind as to read our signed permission both from the Prime Minister and the King and Queen of Sweden.” Hadassah said as she took out the sealed documents and placed them right under officer Lucian’s nose.
In a slow reluctant manner he took them and made a show of reading them, but the confidence in his eyes and the contempt faltered then shattered as he realized he was outranked thoroughly and completely especially when he met the challenging eyes of Hadassah’s ever faithful guards.
“Very well, follow me.”
So we did, but not the way we expected.
Jilava was an old prison but had a renovated section that was in use in the present time, and also it had a more ancient dilapidated section which had been used from when communism had taken hold of the country until it fell, after which that portion served as more of a grim museum and reminder of the dark times of Romania. The path officer Lucian took was not towards the new section but towards the old.
The penitentiary had been originally a fort, Fort 13 Jilava to be more precise, part of the defense system of Buchurest since the early 1890’s, then it had been transformed into the gruesome penitentiary in 1948. As we walked we could see the arched entrences and observation towers at watched armed guards oversaw the facility. We made our way through the underground area through what looked like tunnels that gave the feeling of being buried alive, the dampness, darkness and chill of the place made me want to run almost, yet I remembered so many who had perished in this very place, for it had been as much an extermination place for Christians and rebels against the government as the concentration camps of Hitler.
As we neared the cells we could hear moans echo, it was unbelievable that once more death was being born again here. The walls still bore the black paint that it had long ago, or perhaps it was repainted to kill what little hope these new prisoners might have held on to. Finally we reached what looked like countless iron bars that were filled with rust and dirt, for nothing had been done to improve this section. There were hands of many thinning people holding on to those bars as if for dear life, their eyes displayed a portrait of dying hope.
“Aici, here we are.” said the officer stopping abruptly. “You have ten minutes no more.” he said, unmoving.
“We will speak to the prisoner alone.” Hadassah said, her tone was not to be argued with for it held authority and it was not posed as a question.
Flabbergasted, officer Lucian obeyed and left the area.
Damon stood with arms crossed looking uncomfortable, but who could blame him, so was I.
Hadassah stepped forward closer to the bars and peered into the cell that was filled with people to it’s capacity and beyond, tears threatened to spill in her eyes, but she took a deep breath and spoke, “Ionatan? Ionatan Anton, are you in here?”
The moans from the thick crowd in the cell began to subside, all that was left to be heard was a sweet hum of a distant melody from the corner of the cell, and soon that also became silent as Ionatan realized he was summoned and he rose, his eyes showing only a little fear, but so much more boldness. It seemed that could not be taken from him.
“Da? Yes?” he limped toward the bars, then gingerly placed his hands below Hadassah’s and studied her as if she were some type of angel. His own brown hair was shiny from the lack of a good shower, his face was filled with dust, yet his chestnut colored yes still were filled with a zest and passion that could not be extinguished.
“Who are you?” he asked.
Smiling in her gentle manner Hadassah replied, “I’m Hadassah, this is Raphael and Damon,” she indicated towards us, “and we have come to tell you we know you are here, to tell you to be of good cheer even now, and also to know that we will do all we can to get you out.”
Sneers were the response from some of the other prisoners yet others eagerly listened.
Ionatan gave a weak smile, “It is when I am weak that I am strong for His grace is sufficient for me, but thank you Hadassah, your face is like that of an angel to me.”
Somehow I saw her eyes and his meet and I could see how his words affected her, compliments were not much to her, yet Ionatan’s words were full of sincerity, not only empty useless flattery.
“Tell us, how you are holding up, is there a message you would like to impart to those on the outside?” she asked.
Moments passed before he replied.
“Believe it or not, I count it a blessing to be here, it’s where I am needed.” Oddly enough as he said it there were no sneers from his fellow inmates, but only nods of agreement.
“As for a message, yes, one message to Lazar, tell him that I bear no hard feelings, and if he harbors guilt then he need not, for all is forgiven. Also for those who hide in fear, who I will not name for they must make their own choice to stand, remind them that He has not given us a spirit of fear but of one that cries `Aba, Father’” he said as many eyes looked upon him in wonder.
His message was clear, and I prayed in that moment that it would always be so, in fact the need for intercession intensified so much that it became unbearable. I reached out to him and touched him, praying in a hushed whisper over him and I saw the angels descend forming a protective hedge around him, in this dark corner, light overwhelmed me. If only he could see, I thought.
“Oh but child, blessed are those who do not see, yet still believe.” whispered the same loving voice I had heard before.
“Remember Paul and Silas, our dear Ionatan, do what they did, and who knows perhaps these iron bars will not withhold you.” I said as I met his eyes.
He nodded, “Do you no Raphael, that it is in this very cell that Richard Wurmbrand was imprisoned, it was from this cell that he loved the ones who kept him here, never once cursing them? Oh it’s an honor to be here, it’s not so bad.” He said bravely.
What could be said to words such as these, the words themselves seemed holy, as even the angels bowed their heads, then looked up towards heaven as if to ask ‘How long until you avenge the blood of the innocent oh Lord?’ This was a question that had been repeated through the ages, yet the Lord Himself was merciful even to those who did not seek mercy.
“Even so, we will petition for your release.” I informed him, hoping that would give him strength through the days to come.
Each of us grasped his hand in parting, the last of which was Damon, at who’s touch Ionatan shivered. Ionatan returned to the corner of the cell he had occupied, his head already bowed in prayer, and a new hymn gave birth from his lips.
As we turned to leave, one hand reached out from the cell, touching my shoulder at which I stopped to face an older man with wizened eyes.
“You know, he gives us his portion of food, he even holds the sick among us not afraid of dying himself, we do need him here.” said the man, “But get him out, such as he belongs out there not here, I am convinced this man has done nothing wrong.”
I just nodded and assured him all would be done for each of them, but more could be done with persistent prayer. The man nodded and gave a weak smile. “Go with your God, and may I find Him too.” He said.
Officer Luican was waiting rather impatiently at the end of the tunnel smirking for reasons unknown, or perhaps because he knew no other facial expression.
“Do not expect another visit like this, for it will not happen.” He assured us.
We exited the jail, with heavy burdens in our hearts.
“Where to now, brother?” asked Damon.
“Now we meet with Seraph, and he will tell you where you are needed and also our next step.” I stated as we stepped into the black Dacia.
“I’m needed?” he asked with a tinge of surprise.
I was puzzled by his reply, of course he was needed, he was a watchman, a very important one at that, and close to the Creator’s heart, was Damon doubting this?
“You know the answer to that.” at which he just silently nodded.
“Where are we meeting Seraph?” He finally asked.
“At the Palatul Victoria, he waits for us there as agreed.”


CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Matthew 18:10 See that ye despise not one of these little ones; for I say unto you, that in heaven their angels do always behold the face of my Father who is in heaven.

"I believe in the sun even if it isn't shining. I believe in love even when I am alone. I believe in God even when He is silent." ---Source Unknown


Palatul Victoria stood grand and ancient in Victory Square in Bucharest, the traffic whizzed by with it’s determined hectic pace, pedestrians, cyclists and the like walked at a brisk pace. It was already mid afternoon as I saw Seraph standing besides a fancy blue Volvo, I breathed a sigh of relief, at least this trip would not be as cramped.
Damon parked the car next to Seraph’s, turned off the car then stepped out amazingly fast, standing ready to assist Hadassah, I smiled, I loved to see my brother at his best, yet a tinge of jealousy surged through me. Hadassah was my charge and I had come to love her like a sister or a daughter, and seeing Damon acting as such gave me an odd feeling that I tried to ignore.
She graciously accepted his hand as she stepped out and for a moment their eyes locked then broke away, but in that flicker of a moment something of a struggle flashed across Damon’s face.
“This then it seems is where we part my fair lady of the people, and if it means anything I’d just like to say I wish you weren’t here, times are to dangerous, even for those favored by royalty.” said Damon in a somber voice.
Before I could respond he got back in his Dacia, not even waiting to greet Seraph, leaving us with our bags besides us, his tires squealing.
“What was that about?” asked Seraph.
I just shook my head in dismay, “My brother seems to have run from another lecture from you, my friend.”
Seraph smiled his mischievous smile, “No one seems to be able to take my lectures in this age, perhaps I should quit teaching altogether.”
“Never, and besides Hadassah here needs to hear your wisdom.”
Hadassah stepped forward timidly and extended her hand, “Pleased to meet you, Raphael tells me you’re a great scholar.”
“Watchmen should always be knowledgeable,” Seraph stated, “otherwise you will fail to understand your enemy.” He continued as he looked in the direction Damon had taken.
“What’s to understand, except that there are enemies?” asked Hadassah.
“Because dear Hadassah, they have become enemies for a reason, it was not always so. Anger causes great potential friends to be the greatest of enemies, but what we fail to remember is that behind every anger there is a pain, if we can heal the pain we could loose and enemy, and perhaps if we are blessed in the process we can gain a friend.” replied Seraph speaking not only with his moth but also with his hands to drive home the point.
I laughed softly, “Leave it to you Seraph, to win over a girl with your fountain of philosophical knowledge.” I said, at which he grinned.
“So where do we go next? And why the secrecy?” I asked.
But before we could answer there was a tug on Hadassah’s sleeve, she turned and looked down to look into dark brown eyes of a beautiful dirty street child.
She got down on one knee to be on eye level with the child, “Ce doresti copile? What do you want child?” She asked in perfect Romanian, yet her Swedish accent made it hard for the child to understand.
“Tu esti printesa Hadassah?” asked the child.
Hadassah giggled as a child herself, “I am not princess Hadassah, I am just Hadassah, though some have called me a princess of the poor.” she explained.
“Tu esti printesa mea atunci, you are my princess then.” stated the child.
We were all left speechless and looked around at the passing crowds, quickly we formed a hedge around Hadassah and the child, so as no one would here these words that could be considered very easily treason, though spoken quite innocently by a child. Hadassah was speechless for a long time, she took the child’s hand and ran her hands through her tangled dark hair, perhaps she was seeing herself when she looked at her, what she could have been.
“Tu o sa ne salvez, eu stiu asta.” Continued the child determined that her words be true.
Hadassah turned to me, “I did not understand this phrase, what did she say?”
“She said, ‘You will save us, I know this.’” I translated and Hadassah gasped.
She turned back to the child, “What is your name?”
“Angelica.”
“What a beautiful name, where are your parents?”
“They were taken a few days ago by some very bad men, I think to Jilava.” she said trying to keep a brave face, “I ran after they left, they didn’t see me, so I just ran.”
“Taken? Why?”
Angelica just looked at her as if she should know, and indeed the reason became clear without need for words.
“Why is it wrong to believe in Jesus?” she asked, “El m-a pazit, He kept me safe.”
The look in her eyes were beyond her years, but her faith was as simple as math basic facts, it was beautiful, even now I could see heaven looking down upon this child and I remembered how Jesus had said ‘See that ye despise not one of these little ones; for I say unto you, that in heaven their angels do always behold the face of my Father who is in heaven.’
“And He will continue to keep you safe Angelica, that is why we are here, it’s clear that He has directed your footsteps to safety, you are safe now.” I assured her, taking her in my arms then looking up at Seraph.
He nodded and got out his cell phone, speaking urgently clear instructions.
“What are your parent’s name?” asked Hadassah gently, continuing to stroke her smooth yet dirty face.
“Adelina and Adrian Negrescu, please save them, you can do it, I know you can, they did nothing wrong except what they always did before.” begged Angelica.
“What do they do sweetheart?”
“Predica, they preach.” she said. “And they provide shelter and clothing and food and comfort for the poor.” she wept.
“Shh, shh,” Hadassah said, and I began to hum a song I knew would soothe the child. In my arms she fell asleep as if she were but a baby, but her exhaustion had been tremendous.
“Seraph?” I asked.
“Yes the guardians are on their way.”
I got up and moved towards Seraph’s Volvo, one of the guards escorting us quickly moved to open the door, and I saw such compassion in his eyes as he looked at Angelica., a new determination also seemed to take root, I could feel it in his heart, and in my mind I whispered a prayer of thankfulness and praise, for indeed we were not alone. I laid the child on the back seat to rest and Seraph turned on the car and the heater so she would be warm.
“The guardians?” asked Hadassah.
Seraph and I looked at each other then he answered, “Yes, there are watchmen, guardians, angels, warriors, and each is essential in the army of God, you for example are an intercessor, your family has been that for many generations. Your family has stood when others have fled, always with your choice of standing you have saved many.” “So where do we go from here?” she asked.
“Once Aurora comes and takes the child, we will set out for Timisoara, it turns out history is repeating itself once more, after all there is nothing new under the sun.” answered Seraph.
So there we waited, surrounding the Volvo like we were some sort of sentinels, shivering in the cold, and looking at Hadassah I could tell that many questions were being born in that head of hers, and I for one couldn’t wait to hear them. Yet we each remained in a solemn silence as the weight of this mission became more real to each of us.
“Raphael? Seraph?” asked Hadassah penetrating the silence, startling us.
“Yes?” we answered in unison.
“Promise, no matter what we will get them out, Ionatan, Adelina, Adrian, and Angelica, they must be free no matter what.” It was not so much a question as it was a demand, a demand of one who knew so well that she must stand in the gap, that she must intercede or else so much would be lost.
We both nodded, and wondered what the cost of keeping this promise would be.


CHAPTER SIXTEEN


Aurora was a sweet natured woman who gave an impression of a loving grandmother, though she looked older in years with a cover of white silvery hair crowning her head, her skin was still smooth, her green eyes still vibrant with life. Her arms had encircled Angelica in a loving and protective manner almost immediately. Angelica’s protective barriers each fell like scales as soon as she met her and I could tell she loved her just as quickly. She helped her get into her stylish BMW and drove away to the undisclosed safe house.
Soon after we also got into our Volvo and began our journey towards Timisoara. The first part of the journey was filled with numerous questions from Hadassah.
“What did you mean about nothing being new under the sun?” she asked Seraph.
In reply he gave a sad far away smile.
“This is how the revolution of 1989 began also in the same city Angelica and her parents are from.” He started.
“Bucharest?”
“No, her parents were brought from Timisoara to Bucharest, to Jilava.” he explained.
“But why not just place them in a prison around that area, would that not have been easier?”
He shook his head, “Easier maybe, but more complicated in so many ways, the people of Timisoara know the parents very well, they have always been clear about their faith, and even more so about walking the walk of that very faith. Their house was always a house of refuge, comfort, rest for the weary, a place where the poor could be fed, where the widow could find loving arms to hold her as she weeps, where the orphan could find a parent figure. No, Hadassah, no, if they kept them there soon there would have been an uprising as none could stop. As it remains now, no one knows they have been taken, it has only been a few days.” he explained.
“So how is history repeating itself?” she persisted.
With patience he recalled the events to her, but Seraph still had that far away look in his eyes with each word he spoke, “In 1989 there was a pastor named Laszlo Tokes, he was Hungarian, and at that time on top of the fact that he was Christian, the fact that he was Hungarian also added to the government’s hatred. He was very dedicated, and not shy, or afraid, or even ashamed of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Laszlo was accused by the government of inciting ethnic hatred, they had come to take him away as they had so many before him. But what they could not have predicted was the devotion his congregation, his Hungarian congregation had towards him, for he had been devoted to them. They had surrounded his apartment not only in show of support but as a hedge of protection around him, they would not let them have him.” The way Seraph recounted the story was as if he was speaking of his own children of whom he was so proud of.
“But they took him in the end?” asked Hadassah completely taken by the flood of this story.
Again Seraph shook his head, “No they did not, they could not, for heaven was on their side. There were students who saw the demonstration, they didn’t really know why there was a demonstration they must have thought it was a riot against the government, so they joined, and the crowds swelled. On December 17, 1989 the shots began firing from the police, the securitate and also from the regular military forces. They thought they would stop the riot, but the riot had already spread to other cities by word of mouth and also radio stations such as Voice of America and Radio Free Europe. There was no stopping what God had started, for God had heard the cry of His children.” he concluded triumphantly.
“So then, this is why we go to Timisoara? To let the Negrescu’s congregation know of what has taken place? Do you think they will do the same as Laszlo’s congregation?” she asked, her eyes reflecting both fear and boldness, a contradiction in itself but I knew that she had conquered her fear so many times and she would conquer it now, I hoped.
I reached from the front seat and squeezed her hands, “Yes we go there to inform them, but it is their choice whether they stand or cower. Do not be afraid, whatever the end of this is, you are in good hands.”
She fell silent and into deep thought and so the questions ceased.


---------------------------------------------------

She wondered if the letter had been delivered to him yet, if so, had he read it? Did he hate her? Did he forget her already? As illogical as the thought was, even though only a day had barely passed, she was certain in a few days he would forget their friendship.
Her eyes became heavy and she began to lean on the guard to her right who’s name turned out to be Matthew, the American version of Matthew he had insisted not the Swedish at which Hadassah had laughed, but suddenly her eyes flew open and it felt as if the air had been taken out of her. Looking from side to side she saw both of the guards force her to duck and create a shield out of their own bodies. There were loud popping noises coming from behind and it sounded and felt as if something was hitting the car from behind with breathtaking force.
But she didn’t scream she was far too terrified for that, her wide eyes locked with Raphael’s for a moment but no more as he motioned for her to stay down. She couldn’t breathe, and before the world around her turned to a starless night, all she could see was the one who her heart had left behind.

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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN


Luke 10:2-3 He told them, “The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field. Go! I am sending you out like lambs among wolves.”


Blurs of blue and green of trees swirled as the car swerved and swirled. The popping sounds continued only louder this time seeming to come from both sides of Hadassah. Wind caused her hair to blur her vision further and she realized the windows were down, or shattered. Both her body guards were either ducking to avoid bullets or shooting trying to hit their deadly target.
God protect us, she let her mind scream a prayer to heaven hoping that it would be heard. Seraph tried to control the car at the same time trying not to be an easy target, Raphael was holding on to her hand once more, his eyes were squeezed shut, he looked like he was begging for their life at heaven’s gates.
The next shot sounded like thunder. It felt so close that Hadassah could feel the guards tremble and heard one whisper under his breath, “Heaven help us.” before he shot the next round.
“Take the next right! Take the next right!” roared Raphael, and Serpah responded by jerking the wheel, they were driving down a two lane road now. Then he made another sharp right into a crowded street, and another right and another. There was another roll of thunder and hot liquid spurted, through the car. She could feel it and she grunted, not having any way to escape it.
Seraph continued driving, kept taking right hand turns and then one left turn that left them in an open country side. It seemed as though only seconds had passed but she realized that she hadn’t heard the constant popping sounds for quite a while now, but instead her own heart was thundering, and her breath came out in painful gasps. Her jeans were completely covered in blood.
He kept on driving until he reached a thicket of woods then stopped under the thick cover of many trees. Jumping out of the car he swung open the backseat door to the right of the car. The sight that met him froze him in terror and utter defeat.

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I scrambled out of the car as soon as it came to a halt, and coughed at the dirt that filled the air and blurred my vision momentarily. Then I saw him and I cried out “No, no, no, no! It’s not time.” I begged as I saw from behind Seraph the guard still covering Hadassah with his body, both were covered in blood, both had their eyes closed.
Breathing hard I looked at the even more terrifying sight of the One I knew so well, saw so many countless times before. “No.” I said once more.
The complete white of his garment and his immense wings spanning what looked to be at least five feet above the Angel, he blinded me. His sword was sheaved. So there was no more battle, it was finished. The Angel of Death was here to collect and take the souls to their appointed place and none, not even I could change that.
He places a powerful hand on me, “Be still.” Then he gently moved me aside as if I was as light as a feather.
He walked, and the earth beneath him seemed to shake. He kneeled so he could see inside the car and touched the guard’s shoulder, and I could see the soul depart, taken in the Angel’s arms.
The Angel turned to ascend, but before he left I called out, “What of Hadassah?” I asked confused, her soul was surely just as important as the guard’s.
It was ironic in that moment to see the Angel of Death smile, he had a beautiful smile, it was a smile that dispelled all fear. “It is not yet her time, she is only sleeping.”
“Sleeping?” I almost squeaked.
“Or as you humans call it, she fainted dear Raphael, it is not her time.” with that he turned and with the precious soul of the guard he ascended to heaven, perhaps directly to the throne of God.
Seraph and the remaining guard were already attending to Hadassah, both of their eyes wide with awe, relief, grief all mixed into one. Seraph smoothed Hadassah’s hair out of her face in a gentle manner, at which she took a breath so deep and then her eyes snapped open.
As she surveyed the scene around her tears and sobs escaped from her as she took the guard in her arms and rocked him as if he were a child.
“He saved me.” she kept repeating.
The remaining guard placed a hand around her as well, “He saved you, he died doing what he wanted to do, he was your hero, it’s what he wanted .”
She nodded over and over, “He is my hero, I will always remember him.”
We helped her out of the car as she was still trembling.
Silence engulfed us for so long that it felt it would not end, it was as if we would speak it would destroy something sacred.
“What do we do now?” it was Hadassah who broke the silence in her practical yet sensitive way.
Seraph got out his cell phone, “We call for reinforcement.”
And there we sat, in the middle of a thick forest, waiting and at times sobbing as we knew this war had just begun.

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His pacing resounded against the marble floors of the large office. He tried to calm himself, but he was overwhelmed with anger and betrayal. He turned back to his parents and eyed them with contempt.
“How could you! Do you even realize how dangerous it is there now? Have you read any of the reports?” he demanded.
It was true, reports were streaming in every day now, petitions for sanctuary for those who were likely to be persecuted. Every day, something new came in, a family being imprisoned, homes taken away, sure the country was far away enough that none should care, but that’s now how Sweden was.
“Why did you allow her to leave?” Philip demanded once more.
His parents were not intimidated, yet his mother answered him with a voice filled with understanding, “It is her home country son, her people have heard of her, they may yet listen to reason through her.”
“That’s absurd! She has no experience in politics, and why for heaven’s sake hasn’t anyone told me?” He paused and his voice softened, “Why did she not tell me?” he concluded.
His father stood and faced his son, placed a firm hand on his shoulder and looked him in the eye, “The obvious answer is your reaction at this very moment, you would have stood in her way.”
Anger swelled in him, at her, at everyone, and also worry he had found her and he was desperate not to loose her.
“So you let her go alone? Do you realize that if something happens to her this country will question us? The people love her.” he argued.
“Of course not, don’t be ridiculous Philip, she has guards with her as well as Raphael, and in Romania there are others set in place at her disposal, we are not fools and we love her too, must we remind you?” said Queen Silvia.
“Fine, then arrange for me to meet her there.”
“Most defiantly not, she insisted and we promised, we do not break promises.” Queen Silvia replied.
Philip was at a loss for words, trapped is what he was, how could he not go? But how could he go? His own spirit was dueling within him.
“There is one more thing, she gave Victor this to give you.” The king gave him an envelope with a crimson seal on it, on top with her elegant flowery writing she had written his name.
He turned to leave the room, but was once more stopped.
“Also Philip, we want you to know that we treasure her as well, she is not only like a daughter to us, but her value has become even higher now because of this.” The King stated pointing an object on the grand desk.
“What is that?”
“It is a book, a very old book, and it tells us who she is exactly.”


CHAPTER EIGHTEEN


Psalm 73: 23-24 Yet I am always with you; you hold me by my right hand. You guide me with your counsel, and afterward you will take me into glory.

Denver, NC, United States of America


“This year it’s different, I can feel it Alin.” stated Daniel.
Alin just wrinkled his nose at Daniel’s enthusiasm, “Yes I’m sure it is, we know God will work as He always does.” he replied as he got the copies of the songs they would be practicing today ready, satisfied that there were enough for everyone Alin moved on to his guitar to make certain it was tuned.
Daniel shook his head in annoyance. “That’s not what I mean, of course He will, that’s true, but what I mean is I feel that so much will depend on us this year, something good, or maybe bad I don’t know but our own souls need to be prepared for this.”
Alin responded with a little smile, still not grasping what his friend was saying, “What are you a prophet now?” his tone held a hint of mockery which Daniel could sympathize with, his friend had a few run-ins with wana-be Prophets which at times blinded him to the fact that God still spoke through the real thing at times, although the real ones were indeed fewer and fewer. But Daniel made no such claims, nor did he want to be a prophet, the burden of one was so heavy, yet this feeling was nagging at him.
This year was indeed different. Each year the Romanian youth from the Denver, North Carolina Church worked tirelessly to put together what they called Winter Fest. Romanians from all over the United States would travel to this small city for three days and nights of teaching, singing and fellowship for the younger generation. It always left a huge impact, inspiring those who attended to serve not only God but their communities, to love, to strengthen the weak. But this year Daniel was certain it would be different, He felt more then heard a still small voice in his soul trying to be heard clearer, but he didn’t fully grasp the meaning.
Youth began to stream into the small church where practice would begin for the songs that would be sung. Each year they had to rent a larger church to fit the hundreds who would attend, but until then this would be enough space for the practice they needed.
Alin was doing sound tests on the microphone as a new face stepped through the double doors of the sanctuary, we both looked up.
Tall, yes she was tall, with long chestnut brown hair and green eyes that shimmered and could be seen from where we were standing. She was slim and dressed in jeans and a crimson blouse.
“Buna seara, good evening. Daniel is right, this year is different, and I am here to help you prepare.” she said in a melodic voice.
Both Alin and Daniel starred not finding words very easily until finally Daniel asked, “How do you know my name?”
Her laugh was just as melodic as when she spoke, “I am a watchman, do you know what that is?” she asked and waited for a reply at which they both shook their heads showing how puzzled and baffled they now were.
The other youth were much to busy chatting and catching up on the week’s events to hear the conversation now, as she had drawn close to them. She extended her hand first to Daniel then to Alin, “My name is Zipphorah.”
“Well, you are not a man, yet you say you are a watchman, and no we are not entirely sure what you mean by that.” said Alin matter-of-factly.
She sighed but patiently began her explanation, each word was spoken slowly so that neither of them could misunderstand. “I am a Watchman, in Isaiah God speaks of us, there are many of us, yet you don’t often meet us until a battle has begun. We are the ones who sound that battle cry, or alarm.”
Once more she paused, to make sure each understood, then continued, “We are very old, most of us have been around since the time of the Prophet Isaiah, some even longer, I am one of the few who have been around for even longer.” she said with a smile.
Alin held up his hand for her to stop, “Wait, wait, what are you trying to pull here, you don’t look a day over twenty. We are not fools.”
Zipphorah didn’t even seem to hear him, she walked around him to the keyboard, turned it on and began to test the sound of it, then looking up she said, “Be still, and listen, listen very carefully.”
Her hands moved gracefully across each key and the melody produced sounded more ancient then time itself, it was mournful with many lows and at times cheerful with sweet highs, then there were the pauses that caused each breath to stop in anticipation of what would come next, would the silence never stop? Would the melody continue. Each pause cause a yearning for the melody to go on. But what was more amazing were the images that filled the vision not only of Alin and Daniel, but of each person in that sanctuary, and with each image, each Thomas was made a believer.


CHAPTER NINETEEN


Revelation 3: 15-18 I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other!

So, because you are lukewarm-neither hot nor cold-I am about to spit you out of my mouth.

You say, ‘I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.’ But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked.

I counsel you to buy from me gold refined in fire, so you can become rich; and white clothes to wear, so you can cover your shameful nakedness; and salve to put on your eyes, so you can see.
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Remember, you may choose your sin, but you cannot chose the consequences.
-Jenny Sanford

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"People need loving the most when they deserve it the least."
-John Harrison


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They came, and the drive resumed, with picturesque country sides zipping by, then cities, then small towns, all passing by in a blur. Soon they reached Timisoara, found a hotel and checked in, through all this Hadassah was in a trance of whirling thoughts that would not abate. She studied Raphael closely, his eyes that were a greenish blue if that were at all possible, his dark hair, his Roman nose, his strong jaw line, everything about him radiated strength and faith, yet at times she caught traces of doubt, or perhaps lack of confidence in his own self.
Images, so many images would not abate, and she wished they would, at least some of them. Those of the guard faithfully protecting her though she hadn’t known him as a person, and she wished she had, he had deserved that. Who has such love that they lay down their own life for a stranger? What greater love was there then that? She thought. Then there was what she had seen, or thought she had seen, a fearsome man, no not a man at all, his height was enough to convince her of that, and the translucent wings that became more focused and clear as her eyes were being opened to the true world around her. Those wings, they turned from translucent to white, or was it a silver white? There had been so much light coming from them, and those eyes were a blue not of this world, firm on its mission yet filled with compassion, and perhaps with burden that this being bore with every soul it carried away to God’s throne. Yes, she had seen the gentleness with which he had taken hold of that soul and that decreased her own fears and doubts.
Seraph was always calm, trusting, yet Hadassah knew that kind of unwavering faith had wavered at least once, she knew somehow that such character had been formed by much hardship, and most likely even much loss. His eyes were a golden brown that shined with warmth at times and at other times with a fierce protectiveness and dedication to each one around him. Hadassah smiled when she thought of his hear which was so blond it was almost white, seeing that it made her feel that he was the one, the one who kept these watchmen in line, focused and never giving up, reminding them why they were going on, why they were fighting, and what the prize would be. She wondered, what exactly was that prize? Would all this pain be worth it? And why, oh why was she part of this? Why did she matter at all? Yet here they were insisting that she was crucial to saving her people. But who were her people? She couldn’t even remember this country.
A knock came on her hotel room door, and her heart pounded, ever since Johan’s appearance and showdown each knock on any door frightened her.
“Who is it?” she asked trying to keep her voice from trembling.
“Seraph, may I come in?”
With a sigh of relief she moved to unlock the door and opened it motioning for him to enter. A tempting aroma greeted her nose like a sweet kiss, something warm was in that bag held by Seraph judging by the steam still rising from it. Carefully he walked to the glass coffee table and set the bag down, taking from it clear plastic boxes filled with food. There was something firm and yellow, though she didn’t know what it was it smelled good, in another box there was what looked like sausages and in yet another there was sour cream.
“What is this?” she asked pointing to the yellow concoction.
“Mamaliga, trust me its really good, it’s made of cornmeal as such found only here in Romania, very traditional for breakfast or dinner here,” he began to explain as if he were speaking to a school child who must understand a very important lesson, “it is eaten with sour cream on top along with the smoked sausages.”
Hadassah’s stomach grumbled demanding the food. She and Seraph sat down on the comfortable leather couch and began unwrapping the plastic silverware.
A smile filled Seraph’s face, “Oh and if you are a good girl and you eat everything there are also some crepes filled with home made raspberry jam, and also milk to calm your nerves.” He said with his mouth already full.
They ate in silence, Hadassah cherishing each bite, indeed the food tasted like heaven and she loved knowing that she was eating food that was traditional to her home country, it made her feel less of a stranger in a strange land.
Another knock soon followed and Raphael entered as well not waiting to be invited in.
He looked around and smiled, satisfied to see that his charge was being well cared for. Clearing his throat he said, “I have made arrangements, in the morning we will meet the Negrescu’s congregation at the church.”
Puzzled Hadassah asked, “At the church? Wont they be at risk meeting there?”
“Maybe, but we will have heaven on our side, and as long as politics or what is called hate talk is not discussed, all should be well, though discretion would be called for, there are many who would be willing to turn on their own brother in exchange for something.”
More silence followed as she finished her food, Raphael had a far away look as he gazed over the city through the window. Abruptly he turned and faced Hadassah, “As for you my dear, we want you to rest tonight, you will need your strength, Ralph, the guard will stand outside your door if you should need anything, you are safe now.”
Once more tears threatened to spill, yes she knew she must rest, but memories and thoughts were what attacked her now, she so longed to speak to Philip, he would know just what to say to calm her, he would know just what to do, he would hold her.
As if knowing her longing Raphael came to her and engulfed her with a warm protective hug, and for the moment the world faded, it felt as if she was in her father’s arms, the father she had never known. She savored each second, quietly sobbing and thanking God for this extraordinary comfort. That is how she entered the world of dreams with her head resting safely on Raphael’s shoulder, peace enveloping her like a warm blanket.

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Faces swirled around her at first with dizzying speed then becoming clearer yet never stopping. There was Philip’s aristocratic face, normally so filled with tenderness was now filled with a look of utter betrayal and accusation. The face of her guard filled with anger that his young life had been cut short. Queen Silvia’s face, usually like that of a mother, now clearly showed her eagerness that Hadassah step out of their lives. The faces of the princesses enraged that their brother’s heart was broken over a mare commoner.
Over and over as each face swirled before her the voices also grew louder, “You!” that simple word full of contempt and accusation.
Faces she did not know also peered at her expectantly sure that she would fail, after all she was just a woman, an orphan, a castaway nothing more, she would never be more no matter how she strived. Poverty would follow her everywhere, death, and separation from all she hoped for. So much was hanging in the balance.
“No!” she screamed.
She looked around, trying to hold onto some hope, trying to grasp for something, for someone.
As she sought relief for her terror a voice broke through and it rang with authority.
“Be still,” it demanded “I AM!”
And just like that all the voices ceased, not daring to utter another word. In fact they changed.
Queen Silvia’s voice broke through, “Listen with your heart, not only your ears, it’s not what it seems.”
Philip’s face last of all turned to her, “Never doubt my love, I stand with you even now.”
Then once more the voice that spoke with such authority that truth demanded to be known spoke once more, “Do you love me child?” He asked and awaited her response.
She knew that voice and her soul leaped in response to it, for it brought safety for her whole being, “You know I do Lord.” she responded with her child-like faith.
“Then follow me and care for my lambs.”
“I am only a woman.” she said giving voice to her doubts once more.
“You are Hadassah, chosen by the King.” He replied.
“I don’t understand, the King?” she asked.
“Yes, chosen by the King, remember when the time comes that you are Hadassah, chosen by the King to care for the lambs no matter the cost. And trust in Me, for behold I am with you always, even until the end of time.”
Then as soon as it had started, it all faded just as abruptly, her eyes opened, being kissed by the deceiving winter sun filtering through the windows. There she lay unblinking for a few moments, in a soft bed, fully clothed yet covered to her chin with a warm comforter. But nothing warmed her so much as that voice that seeped strength into her very bones, the voice of the One who she was falling in love with, for each time she heard it, there was such truth and unquestioned love in it that no other human could claim for her. She longed to hear it constantly and in her soul it reverberated still.

--------------------------------

Members of the Filadelfia Church of Timisoara were already gathered in the building which stood on the corner of an intersecting street. They were timid at first, somewhat nervously they gathered around us, wondering why we had called for this gathering.
This would be a call to arms I reminded myself, and my own fears began simmering in my mind. Though I knew and saw all of heaven respond even to just one timid prayer, still I was afraid, would I never learn? Would I never fully trust even after all I had seen, yes, even after all that even now I see gathered around each one of these precious souls? The first Romanian Revolutions should have built my faith to unbreakable heights, yet here I was, ever the fool.
Out of the cluster of people on man stepped forward, trying to hold my gaze, but as he saw Seraph there was a split second where he recoiled, but caught himself and looked down to his left. Was it shame? Who was this man.
Still, the split second passed and what had flashed across his face was gone as well and I was unable to decipher what it meant. Looking at Seraph, he also gave away nothing, or so it seemed, one hand was over his mouth tapping with his finger as if in thought.
“Why are we here?” asked the man, his eyes had wrinkles at each side, and his forward creased as he spoke.
“Because we come with news for each of you, but first who are you?” I asked.
“I am Pastor Lucas, I am substituting for Pastor Negrescu, it seems he hasn’t shown up for the last few services, I have come from Alba Iulia request.” he said.
Seraph greeted him, “Then peace be with you and blessings for coming on such short notice.” he said warmly their eyes locking momentarily, yet there it was again Lucas broke the stare looking away, perhaps at those in the congregation.
Seraph then continued with the introductions, first introducing me, then Hadassah and the guard. “The news we bring you, I’m afraid, is not good. The Negrescu family have been apprehended by the government and transported to Jilava, not only this but there are rumors that each church in Timisoara is slowly being targeted. We come on what it seems to be a rescue mission for each of you.” he explained then looked at me to continue.
“However we do have a plan. Hadassah has gained favor with the house of Sweden as some of you may have heard, and the heart of the Prince.” I began.
“So what does that mean for us? So a girl has the heart of the Prince while our country is falling apart.” said Lucas bitterly.
“It means a chance of escape, that’s what. The queen herself has given us a document that would guarantee sanctuary for those threatened by the government. Romania cannot afford to loose the favor of Sweden because of the fact that Sweden has been a powerful intercessor for refugees in times past.” I explained slowly, feeling the need to let each word sink in for each person listening. “Still it will not be easy, so hence we must proceed with discretion and caution. We will go by train into Hungary and from there transportation has been arranged for as many as needed to proceed on our journey into Sweden. Also, each of you must choose, this country seems like it is loosing a battle it had once won, some of you I know will choose to stay, to fight, but weigh the costs for indeed they will be high.” I said looking at each of them but resting my gaze on Lucas, for beside Lucas I saw a mighty Guardian, but also a hazy darkness trying to engulf him. I looked at Seraph to see if he saw it as well, when he nodded I knew we were facing another battle on top of the one that seemed so paramount.
“I will remain with this group, with those who choose to go. Raphael will go with Hadassah back to Bucharest where a more intricate plan must unfold for those held in chains in Jilava. You may not know this, but torture has been implemented once more in that jail as it had in times past. However we do need at least three people to volunteer to come back with us.” Seraph continued.
There was a deafening silence as each man, woman and child looked at us with fear. It was evident that each was trying to conquer their own doubts. Four from the crowd stepped forward.
A woman first, with golden blond hair and striking blue eyes, her hair was a frizzy mess, yet her demeanor radiated strength and endurance. A man stepped forward next taking hold of her hand giving it a slight squeeze. A teenage boy with curly frizzy hair that looked similar to that of a woman joined them, with a brave look on his face. And Lucas, with a bit of uncertainty, as if a struggle was taking place, as if he desperately wanted to win it, yet he seemed unsure of his own strength. Looking at him I sighed, I’ve seen it so often before, those who tried to win the battle on their own, of their own merit, as if their own strength could carry them. Those learned last and the hard way that strength was first perfected in weakness, and His strength would be the only thing that would be sufficient to conquer.
Seraph placed a hand on Lucas’s shoulder, firm yet gentle. “Not you brother, you are needed with the group that will leave to Hungary.”
Disappointment flashed across his face, “I could help you.” said Lucas.
“Yes you could, we know, but trust in Him Lucas, you will see, just trust in Him, you are needed with this group. Do you understand?” Asked Seraph.
Reluctantly he nodded.
“So then, the remainder of you must now choose who will stay here, and who will go. As I’ve said I will accompany those who will go, and for those who stay, do not be afraid, our fellow brother Damon will soon join you, and he will watch over you.”
An odd sensation overtook me as Seraph made that declaration that hadn’t been revealed to me until this point. Once more I sighed, and shook it off, these people would be in good hands after all.


CHAPTER TWENTY


Matthew 12:39-40 But He answered and said to them, “An evil and adulterous generation craves for a sign: and yet no sign will be given to it but the sign of Jonah the prophet.
For just as JONAH WAS THREE DAYS AND THREE NIGHTS IN THE BELLY OF THE SEA MONSTER, so will the Son of Man be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth.
__________


In faith there is enough light for those who want to believe and enough shadows to blind those who don't. --Blaise Pascal

__________


“Faith isn't believing without proof – it's trusting without reservation.” William Sloane Coffin

__________


Damian couldn’t fathom how good his luck was. He didn’t even try to suppress the smirk off of his face, sure he had temporarily failed to thwart the plans of the renowned and ever-present, annoying watchmen thus far, but foolishly they trusted him. How ironic, he thought. He had been in Bucharest still when his fancy blackberry rang, he had remained there fully expecting them to come back to play the heroes and rescue their precious prisoners. But when the phone rang he almost kissed it.
Now he was driving in a happy stupor towards Timisoara to play the watchman once more. It was during this drive that his bubble was burst upon by his dark friend, he appeared as he always did quite suddenly almost giving him a heart attack in the process as he tried to keep his eyes on the pot filled road.
“Long time no see.” Greeted Damian through his teeth.
“We’ve been occupied.” It replied.
“So then, what’s expected of me since your goons have so miserably failed? Hmm?” asked Damian.
Damian looked to see if it would respond, but only silence was the response. The dark being’s eyes blazed, clearly not appreciating being scolded. Yet still it continued with its hateful silence.
Too many long minutes ticked away as Damian tapped impatiently on the steering wheel waiting for an answer, he hated how these beings mocked him, yet he needed them for now, he would be rid of them soon, he was sure. He would used them, achieve what he wanted and be done with them.
When no response came, seething Damian demanded, “And who’s to say my cover isn’t blown as well? Who’s to say this isn’t one of their very efficient snares that they are so well known for?”
He was vehement, he was boiling with inexplicable anger. He wanted so much.
“You were always doubtful Damian, virtually useless to either side.” It said as one of it’s wings caressed his cheeks sending a glacier of shivers down his spine.
“You question my loyalty.” he hissed back, indignant.
“Of course.” it growled darkly.
“Then don’t.” The deal stands. The mission will be completed, then we’re done, you won’t bother me, and more importantly the Most High won’t bother me. He won’t want to.” each word was pronounced as if the dark one had trouble hearing, after a brief pause he continued his ranting, “He’ll stop His relentless pursuit of the soul He thinks I still possess, His disgust with me will be complete, and I’ll be worth nothing more to Him then a dirty rag. Then those voices will stop, and you will stop.” He finished.
But even as He spoke each word trying so hard to convince himself he meant them there were voices trying to creep through, the voices of the Ones he could no longer see. He tried to remember when He had stopped seeing them, he tried to comprehend why, but only vague answered filtered through his raging soul. He could no longer see them the moment Hadassah’s parents had left this earth. They had begun to fade when they had been captured because he had left his post, had let down his guard. And for what? For a human, it was always a human, a normal regular, worthless human. Sure, sorrow so deep had engulfed him as if to the very bottom of the darkest ocean when they took their last breath, he had felt it, as all the watchmen in the area had. He should have been at Doftana jail, not Raphael, but he could not be found, so his brother, ever the brother’s keeper filled in for him.
The Dark One looked at him, his eyes penetrating, or trying to penetrate at least, into his mind. However both knew that neither angel nor demon could read the mind of a human, even an extremely old human. The Being remained unblinking, motionless as a horrible statue that the artist had miserably failed at, with colors that had once been so heavenly and brilliant, now only retaining a dull reflection of the heaven it had once occupied. But a moment later a smile swept across it’s face, “Just so long as we’re clear, don’t fail us Damien. If you do, you’ll wish the Most High would hear your pathetic cries, we promise.” It warned, pronouncing Most High with such disgust you’d think the Being had become nauseous.
Damien kept his eyes fixed on the road, on the amazingly slow horse and carriage laden with trinkets, he cursed then nodded.
“Just get it done.” and just as quickly as it had appeared, the once Heavenly Being disappeared and Damien gave an involuntary sigh of relief. He hated them, he hated all the world, everything had lost it’s wonder to him long ago and he was tired, as tired as a sick man on his death bed, no longer wanting, no longer having the strength to fight.

_________________________________


Pastor Lucas was waiting for Damien, pacing in the small church. The securitate was counting on him, they were watching him. Did they suspect his doubts? He didn’t want to be a traitor to anyone. He didn’t want to betray his brothers and sisters, he didn’t want to betray his country. Was there no middle ground? Fear rushed him, ambushed him, what if this watchman, this Damien could see what he was contemplating?
In a small way he almost hope he would see, that someone would see. He almost hoped that someone would sit him down and help him sort through it all, through these conflicting loyalties. He loved both his country and his failing faith. Why did he have to choose? Why couldn’t all live in harmony. Couldn’t his brothers and sisters compromise just a little for the sake of peace? What harm would that be?
So, he continued to pace, wringing his hands, not even feeling the cold seeping into the church. He wondered if God truly existed, the still, small voice he had once known so well was fading. Memories of miracles he had once witnessed were being extinguished from his mind. Like the Israelites in the desert, though they’d seen so much, they still doubted, so Lucas also doubted.


______________________


Once more we were on the road, I was becoming tired of these travels, yet there was an exodus that must begin. Bucharest was not so far now. Jilava jail was awaiting them, where prisoners must be set free, I prayed for heaven to help us, for this mission was beyond impossible. Already we had received news that torture in that jail was already increasing. Nails being pulled off of the Christians there, beatings, malnourishment. Yet still other reports came that praise resounded in that jail of darkness, confounding the guards, the torturers. Some of the guards erupted with more torture in response to the praise and peace found in the hearts of the imprisoned, while others just observed in awe not knowing what to make of it. None of the Christians cursed their persecutors, but only expressed their forgiveness even after each torturous deed.
How would this exodus take place? How? The word resounded in my mind, for though I’d seen countless miracles and courage in the face of the worst affliction still the present situation seemed incomprehensible and no solutions surfaced.


CHAPTER TWENTY ONE


Matthew 18:18-19 Truly I say to you, whatever you bind on earth shall have been bound in heaven; and whatever you loose on earth shall have been loosed in heaven.
Again I say to you, that if two of you agree on earth about anything that they may ask, it shall be done for them by My Father who is in heaven.
For where two or three have gathered together in My name, I am there in their midst.

____________

Is it not enough that all the world is against us, but we must also be against one another? O happy days of persecution, which drove us together in love, whom the sunshine of liberty and prosperity crumbles into dust by our contentions!
--Richard Baxter


Weary sighs escaped from each of us as we settled around a table inside a busy coffee shop. We had been seated close to the back entrance, as far away from listening ears as possible. Steaming cups of much needed Turkish coffee was being nursed by each of us, warming us and coaxing energy back into our tired bodies. I was recovering from the hypnotic effect of the long drive and Hadassah rubbed her eyes, it seemed to take great effort to keep them open, dark circles were beginning to form underneath her eyes.
The duration of the drive had given them a wonderful opportunity to become acquainted with their three brave companions from Timisoara. Bogdan and Manuela were married, and in times past they had been the youth pastors of the Filadelfia church, Liviu was their son who they had adopted three years ago. Liviu was a lively yet shy boy of eighteen, with the eyes the color of brown leaves in the fall with curly unruly hair that matched them. Each of them had taken an instant liking to our Swedish guard Casper. We each spoke in the language common to all of us, English, although when we spoke it was with rich accents.
“How will we get in? And more important, how will we get out?” Asked Bogdan in a thick low voice.
“When will we go?” Manuela interjected.
Liviu’s shifted in his chair with nervous excitement, not in the least bit tired.
I lowered my voice further, “There is one officer in the penitentiary, actually he works in the psychiatric section of the prison, he will remain nameless for obvious reasons, he has prepared a way. Still, we do need to pray that God blinds the eyes of others who may become suspicious.”
Hadassah nodded and lifted her eyes already in silent prayer, she almost knocked down her coffee cup as her hands began shaking. I placed my hand on hers hoping to still her fear, hoping to take it upon myself. It only slightly subsided and I sighed my mournful sigh which was increasingly common now.
“He goes with us my friends, I know it, I feel it. That is not to say there won’t be any danger, for the enemy still prowls as a hungry lion seeking whom he may devour. But take courage, if our God is for us, who then can stand against us?” Even as I spoke, again there was a thought that did not fully form, a thought clothed with a feeling of loss.
“Also, I can’t fully disclose the plan, except that there are uniforms waiting for us and also keys,” I continued then added reluctantly, “And also weapons.”
Liviu’s head shot up in surprise, but then he smiled in relief, “Good, we’ll not be completely helpless.”
Taking my last gulp I stood up and each followed suit.
The drive to Jilava was silent, but the silence screamed fear, the silence was filled with unspoken prayer, and I saw the heavens open. A song began to form, it was one well known by a young artist but the words were monumental, as I began the bold harmony became stronger as each voice joined in. If Toby Mac would hear us now these words would have been more clear to him, if he knew how heaven responded to these he would indeed fall to his knees in humble awe.
“If you gotta start somewhere why not here
If you gotta start sometime why not now
If we gotta start somewhere I say here
If we gotta start sometime I say now
Through the fog there is hope in the distance
From cathedrals to third world missions
Love will fall to the earth like a crashing wave”

Between lines Hadassah whispered incomprehensible pettitions and a familiar angel watched her and I gasped. Still I continued not knowing the meaning of this appearance.

“Tonight’s the night
For the sinners and the saints
Two worlds collide in a beautiful display
It’s all up tonight
When we step across the line
We can sail across the sea
To a city with one king
A city on our knees”

I couldn’t continue as the being’s wings wrapped around her and kissed her bent forehead, but I said nothing, what must be done must be done, all I knew is heaven had a plan, one that I might not fully like.


______________________________________


Zipphorah strode into the auditorium of the enormous Methodist church in Denver, it had been chosen as the site for WinterFest. She studied the large banner that hung above the stage, it was in bold vivid letters, displaying this year’s theme: An Awakening. Scanning the already thickening crowd she tried to find the pastor, things were changing fast, and the time was now, they must be ready, she thought.
There he was, at the very front speaking with Alin and Daniel. Good, they were here.
As she reached them they met her eyes, the pastor a bit doubtful, this was a woman he was talking to after all.
“Pastor Petran, Daniel, Alin, it is beginning as we speak.” she stated.
“What is?” asked the Pastor.
“The Battle, as soon as possible start the program, intercession must begin. All of heaven is needed in your home country.”
He wanted to question, she could tell, yet it was wonderful to see that God had worked at his heart, he was ready, he was monumental.
The auditorium filled to capacity, on each face was an expectancy, but most did not yet understand.
Music began to play, words began to form:
“Tonight’s the night
For the sinners and the saints
Two worlds collide in a beautiful display
It’s all up tonight
When we step across the line
We can sail across the sea
To a city with one king
A city on our knees”

As the song continued, it became bolder, like a battle hymn, and as one the Holy Spirit touched them, and indeed this city of zealous youth fell to their knees, tears streaming down the hardest faces, as one they lifted up their hands towards heaven. Then like a crashing wave each began to clasp hands, they were one, they were bound in unity.
Perhaps they did not see but as each hand took hold of the other, a gold chain intertwined and bound them. Angels were ministering to them, receiving the command and soaring, as if they had received their orders, their mandate, they traveled over the deep seas, to the country where good and evil was now colliding.


CHAPTER TWENTY TWO


Matthew 13: 43 Then THE RIGHTEOUS WILL SHINE FORTH AS THE SUN in the kingdom of their Father. He who has ears, let him hear.

--------------

Acts 9:4-6 and he fell to the ground and heard a voice saying to him, “Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting Me?”
And he said, “Who are you, Lord?” And He said, “I am Jesus whom you are persecuting,
But get up and enter the city, and it will be told you what you must do.”


There would be death, he saw that. How he saw it when his eyes were closed he didn’t know. His hands were lifted up, interlinked with Alin’s hands on one side and Zipphorah on the other. Yet he could see, clear as day. Faces, many faces. Some of them were bruised, some of them with hollow tired eyes, some of them young, some of them old, and one face that looked like the face of a queen, a redeeming queen. He didn’t recognize them, they seemed far away, in a dark place where he could almost feel the damp cold. He didn’t know much, but one thing he knew they were depending on him, on his prayers. He couldn’t understand how the prayers would actually help anyone since he was doing nothing more then mumbling words, sometimes incoherent words. But these pettitions on their behalf to heaven, would help, he was sure, as sure as…well as sure as breathing. It took only a moment to form a plan he would concentrate on the queen, because if the queen fell, all would end.

_________________________

Alin drew in a startled breath as the music continued and images, sharp images filled his vision, but then he knew, because he saw. He believed because he saw. So now, knowing that each image was real he finally understood he must intercede, for the one in the cold cell, for the one who was even now joining them in song. Who are you, his mind asked. But no answer, he didn’t need an answer. This young man looked so much like him, like he had years ago, full of zeal with no doubts even though it was clear his body was weak. Alin had been full of zeal once, he trusted everything, and everyone and most important, he trusted Him. Slowly, faith was being reborn as he began mumbling at first his petition to heaven, then demanding to be heard, pounding on heaven’s gates… he needed to be heard this young man had to live, there could be no death.

__________________________

The Pastor looked across the sea of youth on their knees in bewilderment, he hadn’t seen the Holy Spirit at work like this in such a long time. Over time He had begun to think that the Holy Spirit no longer spoke, no longer comforted, no longer interceded. But the proof was now being slammed in his face at this moment, and he couldn’t deny that this was real. Even the worship leaders, they were overcome with heaven. Long ago he had seen this before, it was a faded memory that was now coming back. In Romania, in Cugir, the night of the revolution, there was this kind of unity. This was even more. He looked at his wife and their eyes met, they both nodded, and fell on their knees, taking hold at the same time of their already kneeling daughter’s hand. As soon as they lifted up their voices to heaven the images burst their vision, and they gasped in shock. The Pastor saw a man, holding the hand of his scared yet brave wife, they were going on a mission, it was life and death, it was a redeeming mission. The Pastor’s daughter smiled briefly as she saw the couple’s son, he was also brave, and eager to show that he would take a stand. The groans were lifted up to heaven with desperation to be heard. They must be heard, many lives hung in the balance.

____________________________________


Zipphorah knew fear in that moment as in the vision she saw her fellow watchman, his face was drawn back in horror. She let out a cry that pierced the heart of heaven. There was a burst there at the Gates, all of heaven it burst fourth.

_____________________________________

Over the ocean, in the small troubled country the war was beginning. It was first silent, most didn’t even realize it was starting. But it was real, it was a war both in heaven and on earth, intertwined, dependant on the other.
Damian stood face to face with Pastor Lucas. Though long ago he had not seen the face of heaven, he could still feel human emotions cutting through his mind as if someone had spoken and put a name to it. This old pathetic pastor was on the verge of betrayal, he knew it, but he smiled to him.
“You must be Damian, the other Watchman.” said the Pastor.
Damian tried to hide his smirk, indeed the other Watchman, how little this pastor knew. But this pathetic fool would serve a good purpose, his purpose. “I am, and I see you have some doubts, why did you remain behind?”
“I have no doubts.” he insisted.
“Don’t lie.” I said icily.
His eyes widened. “Yes I have my doubts, but I will serve my country and my people, these fools need someone to intercede for them when they come for them.” He spat out.
The smile broadened on Damian’s face, this man truly thought he was doing good. So it was true then, that the road to hell was paved with good intentions. Good.
Damian patted Lucas on the back comfortingly, “Don’t worry, you are doing good, they just don’t realize it yet.”
Both of them looked at the horrific scene around them, the securitate was here, and in handcuffs they were taking many who had remained behind. They were traitors to this country the moment they didn’t report the ones who left.
One resisted, trying to reach out for his young daughter, shots rang out, they echoed through the mercilessly cold night, followed by a thud. After that no one struggled, they just resigned.

_______________________________________


Taking hold of each parcel of clothing I distributed them to each of our small army. Each took it as a gift and proceeded to change in the car. For Hadassah there was none and she looked up with eyebrows raised.
“No, you do not go in, they will know you for sure. You will wait.” I explained.
She shook her head, “No, no I have to go with you, you can’t leave me alone, I must help, I’m not as helpless as you think.” she insisted.
“No.” I said firmly, but I took out the package I had for her.
She took hold of it, unwrapped it and gasped, dropping its contents.
Again she shook her head vehemently, “No, I won’t need that.” she pointed in disgust to the black weapon on the ground.
“I hope not, but you will keep it near you at all times, God-forbid that we should need it, but we must be prepared.”
“Where will I wait?”
“Right there,” I pointed, “remember that Jilava was built as a fortress first, not a prison. It was built as a place of defense, not torture. What most don’t know is that Fort Jilava has kept some secrets very well.”
She didn’t respond, she just listened.
I continued, “Most forts have many ways of escape, you see there?” I said pointing to what looked like a hill, but below that were the prison cells. She nodded slowly, “There is where we will come out from, there is a passageway that will bring us out here, beyond the fence and the barbed wire. You will wait here.” I said firmly and she resigned.
Bogdan, Manuela and Liviu joined us then, we each entered the car in solemn silence. Hadassah drove to the front of the penitentiary where we got out, dressed as the securitate, we were new officers coming to interrogate the vermin of this society.
We walked briskly to the entrance with our documents in our hands, I glanced back once as Hadassah drove away to the place of our rendezvous, she would be alright, I thought.


_________________________________

The dark night enveloped her, she didn’t want it. She wanted day, when all things looked safe. Nothing looked safe now, everything looked as if it would explode. But she was ready, she had to be ready for such a time as this.

_________________________________

Riots began again, in Timisoara, in Cugir, in Alba, in Bucharest, everywhere. But none knew what they were fighting for. None seemed to know that their souls would be demanded of them if this night would end in defeat.


CHAPTER TWENTY THREE


Isaiah 1:16-18 “Wash yourselves, make yourselves clean; Remove the evil of your deeds from My sight. Cease to do evil,
Learn to do good; Seek justice, Reprove the ruthless, Defend the orpahn, Plead for the widow.
Come now, and let us reason together,” says the LORD, Though your sins are as scarlet, They will be as white as snow; Though they are red like crimson, They will be like wool.
______________

Pray often, for prayer is a shield to the soul, a sacrifice to God. and a scourge for Satan

--John Bunyan

______________


The thud echoed in his mind, reverberating for what seemed like an eternity. He kept moving through the motions. It was done now, yet as he studied the spatters of blood that had landed on and stained his hands an astonishing revelation was birthed. It travailed, and as with any birth pangs he tried to surpass it, he had to, there was no turning back.
He had steered the securitate to the so called faithful through Pastor Lucas. He fed his doubts, but also he subtly suggested he wasn’t doing anything wrong by agreeing with his reasoning. Damian saw the his Dark accomplice whispering in his ear for a time before moving on to others to try to lure them away. How Lucas each whispered word Damian couldn’t fathom, but somehow he did. He ranted about how a good Christian was to be submissive to their government. So he was submitting very well, thought Damian, by sending his sheep to the slaughter, as good as any wolf clothed in sheep’s clothing. It was laughable really that Pastor Lucas even believed himself a lamb.
But what did that make him? He was a Watchman once, most still believed him to be. His soul was given to the Dark Ones, or so they thought, but always there was a still small voice wooing him, calling him, pursuing him. Why not just let him be? There was no desire within to serve either side. He was tired of this ageless battle that had no end. Often he’d failed both sides miserably.
Now a child was being torn from his father’s arms, the mother had already been taken. Damian faintly saw a familiar form or shape. It looked like that of a flaming sword being swiped across the securitate officer’s chest. Instantly the officer let go of the father, grasping at his own chest, his face displaying agonizing pain.
A longing filled Damian in that moment, so deep that it hurt. A thought flickered within, something remembered but buried by regret, pain and helpless anger. Even as these feelings gripped him they were fleeting, hard to grasp. He knew there was no way back, the cost was too high, forgiveness couldn’t be offered to him now, there had been too many deadly choices. The past couldn’t be changed.
Passer-by’s began to stop and stare at the horrific scene taking place in broad daylight on the well known street. The father saw his opportunity as the chaos broke out. There were friends seeing their friends lead away. A holy rage filled them that would not be abated. Taking hold of his son they lunged away from their captors. Damian saw guns being raised, one of which was aimed at the child.
Something snapped within him, the speed with which he ran was faster then a hurricane. Thoughts flashed through his mind with the same forceful speed. Who cared if the Dark Ones would destroy him? And even if he couldn’t be redeemed, did that mean a child had to die? Memories of his own father, so long ago gone, filled his mind. During a battle many centuries ago in Jerusalem his father died to save them from the captivity of Persia. Pain, so much pain. No more!
A bullet grazed him, but he would live, he always lived. He was cursed with endurance, fast healing, strength and a long life. He whisked them away, both father and son, as the officers scratched their heads in confusion. It looked like something you would see in an episode of Tom and Jerry, thought Damian ironically.
He carried them into the farthest, darkest alley he could find away from the chaos.
Gunshots still echoed in the distance as they came to an abrupt stop.
Both father and son looked at him with mouths agape, with a mixture of both relief and horror.
“What are you? Who are you?” asked the father in a trembling voice. His arms protectively surrounding his son, as if he could protect him from Damian if need be.
Before Damian could answer, the child spoke, “Tata nu sti?” he asked.
“No son, I don’t know, what?”
“El este pazitorul, he is our guardian.” exclaimed the boy as if this was common knowledge, his voice was dripping with wonder.
“No, no I’m not, I’m not that.” Damian quickly insisted.
The father was silent for a moment.
“But what are you then?”
“I was a Watchman.” relied Damian.
“Was? Then what are you now?”
Damian did not reply right away, when he did, it was in a low broken voice, “I’m a fallen sinner, a Watchman who did not watch but fell asleep.”

___________________________________

Zipphorah could feel it, all of it. She prayed for Raphael and his companions, that they would be on guard every second, for she felt the enemy was on the prowl.
Even here in this grand auditorium, filled with zealous youths and the angels walking in their midst. Even here the enemy was on the prowl.
The Dark Ones tried to roam through the crowd to whisper doubts, she heard each of their lies clearly as if spoken in her own ear. She knew each of these lies for each of them she had had to conquer.
“This is not real.” They hissed.
“This is nothing more then hallucinations produced by your brain.”
“Do you think you’re worth redeeming, do you think you have the right to approach Jesus? After your immoral life that you ssssstill fall into?”
“Keep praying so that girl over there can see what a faithful believer you are.”
“You’re nothing, you fail at everything, you can’t even hold a job.”
Lies and distractions were whispered, some were screamed. Each time the hands that were lifted would falter, the person’s prayer began lessening. But just as Aaron and Hur held up the hands of Moses in the heat of battle so did the prayer warrior on each side of the tested one. So their hands never fell, because the one holding their hand on either side would lifted back up, supporting and giving the needed strength.
There were those among the crowd who were more sensitive to the Holy Spirit’s prompts, these saw or felt the struggle and their doubts, their prayers became more specific. Their supplications began targeting the specific whispers of the Dark Ones.
“Blessed is he who believes yet has not seen, Lord strengthen Otilia, give her faith in this moment to intercede.” prayed a young man holding the girl’s shaking hand.
“You know this is real Vlad, I see the battle too, you’re not hallucinating, Lord open his eyes so he sees the legions of angels with us now.” the one next to Vlad prayed passionately.
“Resist the devil and he will flee. There is no sin too great so that it cannot be forgiven, when you fall He lifts you back up Catalin, when you are weak then He is strong for you. Your sins are cast as far away as the east is from the west.” this one prayed so passionately, he displayed the Savior’s heart so vividly that it brought tears to Zipphorah’s eyes.
“Keep your eyes on Jesus David, look neither to the right nor to the left so you don’t falter. Focus on Him.” And so David’s hands shot up, his chin lifted up in humble triumph continuing the intercession.
“You can do all things through Christ who strengthens you Miriam, don’t give up, He’s not giving up on you, finish the good race, run towards the prize.” encouraged her faithful friend.
Zipphorah’s heart leapt with joy at what she saw next. The gold chains binding them together tightened their hold, keeping them from faltering or falling. Each person was the next person’s strength. But what brought her tears of joy was when the Dark Ones fled. It happened so suddenly when He came, the King was among them. Every single one of them He touched. For some He wiped the tears of sorrow away, for others He lifted dark and heavy burdens that had been carried way too long. As He passed by each person, audible sighs of relief was heard. He was imparting peace beyond all understanding, peace in the midst of the storm, for indeed the storm still raged.
Though this battle was directly linked to the violent one now taking place in their home country, both battles needed to be won, both there and here.
With her whole heart she prayed that both would be won. Yes, her Lord would intercede, but choices would still have to be made and each choice made could either win or loose this war.
Finally He stopped in front of her, she smiled and so did He. It was so beautiful, so intimate, He was not only her Savior and King, He was her long time, constant friend. How could she put this friendship into mare mortal words? It had taken so many years to form and shape, but one thing Zipphorah knew, she loved her Savior and He loved her first.
He touched her eyes, the very Son of God touched her eyes. Images came through like a faced paced thriller, and though her heart broke at what she saw, she accepted it through tears.
“Your will be done.” Zipphorah said.

_______________________________________

Philip stopped his pacing and sat down in the cushiony chair, its comfort angered him at this particular moment. Why should he be comfortable when he knew Hadassah was not, in fact he knew she was afraid at this very moment. How he knew this, he couldn’t reasonably explain, he just knew.
He studied once more the ancient book in his hands, flipping through page after aged page. It contained countless names it seemed. With each name was the story that belonged with it, written in their own writing. It was a beautiful masterpiece actually, each time he began a new story the writing was as unique as the writer. But these were not just stories, these were histories leading all the way to the present. They were written by strong, faithful, beautiful women, and every single one was related. Every single one bore the name Hadassah, or Esther, or Estera. There was only one story in this lineage of the courageous descendants of the Queen that was missing. It was left to be written Philip supposed. It was the story of his Hadassah.
The rage he felt was as cold as the most brutal Swedish winter. Why! He wanted to scream, but he composed his royal self amazingly well.
In the book he had tucked Hadassah’s unopened letter, he had been to angry to read it until now. But now a desperation filled him a need to be with her. He didn’t know what to do, how to help her, he was at a complete loss.
“She’s my Hadassah!” He let out a scream that echoed in his rooms, his fists was raised towards the sealing.
“No, My son, she is Mine.” replied a voice.
Philip drew in a startled breath and looked around him, there was no one there. But he had heard a voice of that he was certain.
“She is My daughter, and your right My son, she needs your help.”
Again he looked around, his eyes saw nothing, but he could feel arms gently holding his shoulders.
“How my Lord?” said the Prince.
“Even though you are a prince, this battle you must do on your knees.”
With that no more questions came, the prince fell to his knees, and raised his hands in supplication. Tears were streaming down his face, the letter from Hadassah slipped from his hands undread. His vision filled with a battle, a raging war, and he prayed now, a prince with his face to the floor, yet heaven gathered around him, for he too was a son of God.


CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR


Matthew 26: 48-50 Now he who was betraying Him gave them a sign, saying, “Whomever I kiss, He is the one; seize Him.”
Immediately Judas went to Jesus and said, “Hail, Rabbi!” and kissed Him.
And Jesus said to him, “Friend, do what you have come for.” Then they came and laid hands on Jesus and seized Him.

___________

Revelation 2: 9-11 ‘I know your tribulation and your poverty (but you are rich), and the blasphemy by those who say they are Jews and are not, but are a synagogue of Satan.
Do not fear what you are about to suffer. Behold, the devil is about to cast some of you into prison, so that you will be tested, and you will have tribulation for ten days. Be faithful until death, and I will give you the crown of life.
He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches. He who overcomes will not be hurt by the second death.

__________

Princes, kings, and other rulers of the world have used all their strength and cunning against the Church, yet it continues to endure and hold its own.
-- John Foxe

__________


We were in, dressed and armed as good as any of the other securitate officers. I noticed how each officer including the Chief were armed to the T with a heavy beating sticks, guns and even a hand held grenades on the heavy belts. Fear slithered and tightened like a snake around me, they were prepared, on high alert. New of riots must have reached them, and from past experience they knew to take them seriously. Even so they were not expecting an infiltration, for that is one thing Christians in this country have not dared to do before, though they knew Christians to be courageous they rarely thought them to be innovative. There was no logical reason for them to believe we were not who we said we were, after all we had given them official documents stating our mission. We were to round up the prisoners for an intense round of interrogation, to which strict orders were given for no interference, no one was to accompany us. Information derived from these tortures would be secrets of the state, only top officials would decide what to do with it. Or so the story went.
Under this guise we proceeded through the old fort, through arched passageways that gave the impression of ghosts of times past watching down on them, down numerous stairs. Our faces seemed to freeze from the drafts seeping into this place, the dampness only made it worse. Odors of human waste mixed with sickness surrounded us, so much so that I felt I would gag. Holding our breaths did not help. I was eager to get these tortured souls out and to better conditions. Every once in a while we would superstitiously glance back, thinking we heard footsteps following us, yet it seemed as if it was only our fear taunting us.
As we reached the crowded cells we saw the prisoners’ empty eyes stuffed to the brim in fear as they saw us. Most began to huddle closer to each other, not only shielding themselves from the cold, but now also from us. Conditions have driven them to a reluctant fragile unity. Huddling wouldn’t keep them from torture they were sure was to come, but the comfort of being close to each other fed them some strength at least. I felt their fear as if I were among them in the cell looking out, but I also felt the doubt emanating from the believers in their midst. They wondered if they could withstand more pain without giving in, without turning on each other, without renouncing the One, the only One who gave them hope. In the end they feared themselves the most, above all else they were their own worst enemy, with so much to loose. But soon those fear-filled eyes transformed into what looked like light houses, filled with light, but mostly defiance. I wished I could tell them to not fear, but in the event there were infiltrators or others watching they must not suspect the reality of this predicament. This had to look and feel and even taste real.
I sighed bitterly. Yet prayers from distant lands strengthened us, and even them, for I saw angels constantly arriving, ministering to the weakest, enabling songs of praise to continue. The Holy Ones subdued and cast away the spirit of fear clinging to these captives, making room now for the Holy Spirit to fill them. And so instead of crying out in fear they cried, “Abba, Father!”
I felt my fellow watchmen’s eyes upon us and I thought it would have been wonderful to have them here, to have our own numbers increased, for the enemy was vast and would devour us if it could. But against all nature, I knew strength was not found only in numbers, strength, even supernatural strength cam from Him.
My eyes searched through the people that seemed to merge together as one. In an instant my eyes locked with Ionatan’s and I lifted a finger to my lips as if I had an itch, to which he gave an undetectable nod.
Bogdan, Manuela and Liviu trained their guns on the people, looking fierce and hateful, though I knew what they hated was not them.
“Atentie!” called Bogdan in a voice that demanded attention, “Attention!”
The sound of his voice startled some, their gasps reverberated and echoed against the stone walls.
“Each of you, in single file will follow Officer Liviu, one wrong move and you will die.”
Manuela stepped forward, “Today will be a day your so-called faith will be proven to us, you will show us this so-called God.” Her voice didn’t falter, indeed this was a test of faith not only for them, but each one of us. We were calling on, no, demanding all of heaven to prove they were with us.
“How you obey today, mark my words now, will determine your next breath.” said Liviu his voice only slightly faltering.
The keys rattled as I unlocked the cell doors. Out of sheer terror each captive formed a line behind Liviu who averted his eyes deliberately from them.
When each prisoner stood ready I called out, “A few names will be called out, when you hear your name you’ll move to the front of the line, understood?”
They nodded.
“Angelica and Adrian Negrescu!” A broken sob escaped from a woman in the back, “Move, do it now!” I bellowed.
Holding each other the couple moved forward, they were each other’s only strength, and I heard Adrian whisper to his sobbing wife, “Do not fear.”
“Quiet!” I ordered, then continued, “Ionatan Marku, move to the front now.” Only briefly did I look up from my papers to make sure he obeyed, then proceeded to call a few more names and felt their hearts thundering wildly. How I wished to tell them not to fear, but my silence was faithfully kept, too much was hanging in the balance and we could afford no mistakes this night, or any other night. Mistakes I knew would be paid for in priceless lives.
“Now move! No talking, whimpering, limit even your breathing, one wrong move will cost you what you cannot afford to loose.” Even though my words were masked by hate, the words rang true.
Obediently they moved, though slower then I liked, it seemed as though all were moving in slow motion, including myself. They were hindered by hunger and weakness, as the walked they almost stumbled upon each other several times. But it was good, the exodus from Romania’s darkest prison had begun. Oh Heavenly Father, help us safely escape this Egypt, I fervently prayed.

________________________________

Hadassah waited and soon was joined by several vans driven by other Watchmen. No longer alone she sighed in relief, they were here as Raphael had promised, why had she doubted? Each van was black as the night around them, on each of the three was boldly written TRANSPORTARE DE PRISONIERI, Prison Transportation.
The three watchmen looked identical, same bottomless blue eyes that were so bright you could clearly see them even in the night, each had the same silvery blond hair, and the same full kiss me lips. All were the same except that one was a woman with hair cut short to match her two brothers.
“I’m Ruth,” said the woman extending her hand, her voice was flowing like water upon the thirsty rocks, “These are my brothers, Kadmiel and Caleb.”
Hadassah shook their hands in greeting after which they each surrounded Hadassah. Every word they spoke awakened her, they even revived and strengthened her. Though they all wore the same uniform that Raphael had imparted to the others, they didn’t frighten her, until they stopped talking and starred at something straight ahead.
Though she couldn’t see what they saw, she felt a familiar presence, the same comforting yet undoubtedly fearful, imposing presence she’d felt when her guard had died.
The presence waited, like a sentinel, nothing was done, it just patiently waited, full of a sorrow Hadassah could not fathom.

______________________________________

In Timisoara all chaos broke out, in the midst of which no one could find Damian, nor could they locate the father and son, so instead the Officers apprehended Pastor Lucas.
Lucas protested loudly in shock and terror at the turn of events, they were making a mistake, but no one listened to his pitiful cries. Now he found himself seated on a hard wooden chair that hurt his back, with the Chief of the Securitate starring him down. He had been faithful to his country only to be rewarded in this cold, humiliating manner. Full fledged anger burst out of him at the unbelievable predicament.
He then looked up, finally meeting the eyes of the Chief, unfaltering.
The Chief smirked, “You know more, and you’ll speak now, I think.” He said icily.
Pain emanated from his battered ribs, Lucas found it hard even attempting to breathe. Suddenly he found it incredibly impossible to serve both sides. He wanted to serve his country, but he was realizing that his country was no serving him or his people whom he had blindly entrusted to them. Somehow he thought it was right that his people submit to the government, that was written even in the Bible right? But at what cost should they keep submitting? His thoughts went back and forth making him dizzy. Ah, but now what? He was in too deep, he must show them that he’s still useful, then, later he’ll somehow be able to help those imprisoned after he’d gained the Chief’s trust.
“Yea, I do, so what? I tell you then they turn on me.” Lucas stated simply.
“They won’t, unless you tell them.”
For a long time he didn’t answer, weighing the pros and cons.
“There will be a prison break at Jilava.” he finally spat out.
The Chief smile calmly and signaled for the two officers standing at the door. “Take Pastor Lucas here, somewhere where no one can get to him, until we can confirm his words.”
Lucas’s eyes became wide, “What? Where? You can’t, just let me go.”
“I’m afraid we can’t do that quite yet.” said the Chief, taking pleasure at the Pastor’s discomfort and fear. As the officers dragged him out, he picked up the phone, to find if truth could be found in this snake’s mouth.

___________________________________

Pain seized them as one, something errupted. Though the Dark Ones had fled their presence, they had gone to wreak havoc elsewhere. Now they were preying on weaker minds, whispering and mesmerizing others with their glamorous lies. The trouble with lies is there was always one thread, one seed of truth in it. A treacherous decision, a grand betrayal had just taken place. But since the beginning of time there was always a Judas spirit roaming and feeding the doubts of the weak. Then there would be a kiss, so sweet, but birthing death.
Zipphorah wept.
The Pastor, his wife and daughter were also crying, tears freely cascading down their faces.
The entire auditorium was filled with moaning, feeling the cost that would be paid. Doubt had no foothold here, every single one knew that though it all seemed wrong, it had first passed before the throne of God. Gone was the divisions that had once resided among them, healed was all anger in their hearts. This day, in this place there had indeed been An Awakening, just as their theme was.
Often they had sought a sign of their God, yet no sign would be given but that of Jonah, the most painful sign of all. It would have been better had they not asked, yet throughout all time there was always a sacrificial lamb. What was once, will be again.
“Open their eyes Lord! It’s not what it seems!” cried Zipphorah.
With that the battle exploded.

____________________________________

As the last had entered through the secret tunnels, I heard loud enraged voices behind us.
“Run! Run fast!” I ordered.
Confused the captives looked at me as if I’d gone mad.
Desperation filled me, “Trust us, we are here to save you, run!”
They didn’t need further prompting, their desire to live pumped adrenaline through their veins as gas would pump through a car. A younger girl, the last in line attempted to flee but collapsed. I gathered her frail body in my arms and carried her, swinging the door to the passageway shut.
But they followed, just as vultures would seek dead corpses, so they followed us, guided by the Dark Ones. I heard the sound of footsteps echoing on the other side. Without looking back I ran, imploring with each breath the help of heaven.


CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

Psalm 23:4 Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.

________________

John 15: 13 Greater love has no one than this, that one lay down his life for his friends.

________________

There is a preacher of the old school but he speaks as boldly as ever. He is not popular, though the world is his parish and he travels every part of the globe and speaks in every language. He visits the poor, calls upon the rich, preaches to people of every religion and no religion, and the subject of his sermon is always the same. He is an eloquent preacher, often stirring feelings which no other preacher could, and bringing tears to eyes that never weep. His arguments none are able to refute, nor is there any heart that has remained unmoved by the force of his appeals. He shatters life with his message. Most people hate him; everyone fears him. His name? Death. Every tombstone is his pulpit, every newspaper prints his text, and someday every one of you will be his sermon.
--Author Unknown

_______________________


Irrational rage filled him, mostly directed towards Lucas the fool, though it shouldn’t have been. That’s what was irrational. Damian had planted each seed of doubt in the mind of a person whom should have been steered in the right direction not the wrong one. He had been a weak soul and he had only fed his weakness. To late for remorse now, he thought. He knew what the Pastor would do, even in the instant that he’d made the decision and saved the father and son, he knew what he would do. It had been what he had wanted at the time.
So as soon as the father and son were secured in the care of a guardian, he flew like the wind to the airport. Well, not literally flew, he just drove really, really fast which felt like flying, especially over all the potholes that took his breath away. He had reached Bucharest just as the sun made it’s descent, casting eerie shadows over the busy city. Renting a car took longer then he thought necessary, and dodging through traffic was more then even the most patient Watchman could bear, let alone a human.
Conflicting emotion gave their own brutal battle within him. What had come over him anyway? Why did he care? But of course he cared, just not about himself. Why should others matter? Because they were innocents, that’s why! He screamed inwardly. On it went like a ping pong match with himself.
He gave a groan as the Dark One appeared in his passenger seat. Just peachy, he thought.
“What do you think you’re doing?” it hissed, sounding more like a snake then a once heavenly being.
“Exactly what it looks like.” Damian replied boldly.
“Fool, what do you think you’ll accomplish with this? Redemption for your pitiful traitorous soul?” it attempted to form a laugh but the sound coming from this creature was more like a gurgle.
“Nope.” he replied popping the p.
It was a Kodak moment the look on its face, Damian would have laughed, but he knew better.
“You’ll regret this Damian, I promise this will cost you.”
Damian tried to come up with a comeback to that but the Dark One disappeared. It was already costing me, what else could I possibly loose? Thought Damian.
All he wanted right now was to warn his all to trusting, gullible brother that they had been ratted out. Maybe save the beautiful Hadassah as a bonus. She struck some type of cord in him, reminding him of one lost so long ago, a time when the love of a woman was once possible for him. He smiled at the thought of Hadassah’s deep dark eyes, that held the mysteries of the universe buried in them. But redemption, for him? Part of him dared to hope, but most of him knew he was beyond redemption.
He knew where they would be, Raphael had discussed those plans within earshot. His brother may yet thank the heavens for his change of heart. Even in the increasing darkness he could see the outline of the three vans. The car screeched to a halt right beside them, he lunged out not even closing the door. In the blink of an eye he was rooted beside Hadassah and the triplet Watchmen, he opened his mouth to speak but didn’t. Instead he followed their gaze which was fixed on a spot right bellow the barbed wire fence. Amazingly he saw what they saw, his eyes truly saw what he had been blind to for decades, and he didn’t know what to make of it. So enraptured was he by the beauty of the immense being that it took a while to register what it’s presence always, always meant. When it did register he knew he was too late. Something was wrong, he had of course failed, as he always, he had failed.
Still, he made one last pathetic attempt to be the hero, to be the good guy that everyone needed and waited for.
“They’ve been tipped off, they know of the escape, I’m going in.” His determined voice startled them, they had not even noticed him there. Typical, he thought bitterly.
“W-what are you doing here, what about--” Hadassah started.
“No time for that, I’m going in.” He didn’t wait for their protests, he didn’t expect any. His brother was in there. He broke into a run just as he saw prisoners emerging from the ground. They looked weak like they were not alive at all, but the walking undead emerging from their cold graves.
He searched among them for Raphael, panic rose like bile in his throat when he didn’t spot him. Everyone seemed to be out. No one else was coming. These captives were hurriedly ushered by Hadassah and the triples and even the Swedish guard who had joined them, to the vans.
Damian had reached the entrance just as he heard loud popping sounds echoing from somewhere deep within that pit of darkness. A very thin Ionatan ran out and stumbled back. He ran past Damian, colliding with Hadassah, falling to the ground.
“Hadassah,” Ionatan gasped, “go run back! Now! They’re coming!” He urged getting up and pulling her up with him.
It was then that Raphael emerged carrying an unconscious woman and Damian sighed audibly. With adrenaline pounding through his veins he was instantly beside his brother, taking the woman from him, so he could be free to run.
“Run!” Damian ordered.
But he failed. He knew it the moment he heard the thunder of the gun going off in the night, and the more sickening sound of it finding it’s target. He knew it when he heard the agonizing cry that seemed to come from two people. He knew it when the ground became stained with ruby red blood. He knew it because the sound of that gun kept repeating again and again, the noise of it filled the universe. He failed, and yes, the cost was too high.

______________________________________

Sobs filled the auditorium as they felt the sting of death. They knew a last breath had been given, because even across the vast distance this army had become one.
“No!” cried Zipphorah.
She wanted to question heaven, for how could this possibly fit heaven’s plan? How could this be perfect? Was it possible for the heavens to be defeated? It felt like it.
This body, this multitude felt as if a limb had been permanently detached from them. A member’s life was snuffed out like a candle blown out by a furious, angry wind.
Still they persisted. Not every life was lost, captives still remained to be set free. So, no matter how excruciating it was to remain on their knees with lifted arms, still they continued their struggle against the principalities, against the deepest, most evil darkness.

__________________________________

Somehow the Prince had slipped into a troubled sleep, with his face on the ground, still in a position of supplication. He woke with a start. He thought he heard a loud bank. But nothing followed, except for cold silence, yet his chest hurt.
“Pray now, do not sleep, but pray, the hour is at hand.” whispered a still small voice he was coming to recognize.
Obediently the Prince submitted, not knowing what to pray for, or who to pray for, he only groaned incoherent words, words meant only for heaven and its angels.


__________________________________


I gasped, I felt pain.
But it was not my own, it was just a reflection of the pain I always picked up on from the one whom I was mandated to watch. Somehow that pain was worse, knowing it was not me hurting, but one so much more precious… and not just one.
Ionatan had hit the ground with a loud gasp, yet though his pain was as sharp as knives, with blood seeping out of his chest, still he crawled to where she lay. He took her in his arms. Her eyes were closed, but they flickered open when he held her in his arms trying to revive her.
She looked at him, as if from a vast distance, then she looked at me and I rushed to her. It couldn’t be.
“Lets move her, now.” I began.
“No,” she rasped.
I shook my head vehemently.
“They’re coming you foolish watchman, go and leave me, I see him, I’ll be safe in His arms.” she struggled so hard to say each word, as if each word was so important.
Damian tugged at me, no, he dragged me away, with tears streaming down his face as he looked back and saw the officers already nearing us. But what made us cry was a more fearful figure that was bent over where Ionatan was still cradling Hadassah. They were both weakening, and the angel drew his sword casting away the Dark Ones who tried to take claim of these pure souls. We saw him take hold of them. As the van doors slid shut we saw another one join the Angel of Death, this One was arrayed with all of Heaven’s splendor, yet bore many scars of torture. We saw them as they met the Savior. We saw Hadassah, who was as promised, chosen by the King.

______________________________________


EPILOGUE


Absentmindedly he paced the enormous library. Every few minutes he’d stop, pick up a book then place it back unread. Try as he might he couldn’t focus. The Royal House was in an uproar of constant activity, ever since news had filtered in from Romania a few days ago. Hadassah’s mercy mission had been fairly successful, refugees would be arriving in Stockholm this bitter cold morning. Romania itself was unstable, divided, with protests filling the country. Rumors of deaths and shootouts also were whispered, the thought of which sent chills through Philip. For those who had escaped, it would be special, their newfound freedom would be celebrated within these palace walls. They would each reside here the first few days, something to be marked in history as a first. Here they would also be interviewed by story hungry reporters, but at least it was a story of triumph, not loss.
Philip himself felt like a child awaiting Christmas morning, he couldn’t wait to see her face. Her sweet, fearless face that was imprinted on every fiber of his being awakened such longing in him. Yes, before she would utter one word, he would speak his heart, he would insist on no interruptions. First, he would make it clear that she would become his wife. Second, he would scold her thoroughly for not giving him the change to be a help in the salvation of her people. Third, well, third he would embrace her and he wouldn’t guarantee that he would ever let her go. He looked at the grandfather clock that ticked away the time all too slowly.
As minutes passed, he continued his faithful pacing, but stopped abruptly as he heard a tangle of anxious voices on the other side of the doors. He was ready to sprint towards them, but the doors opened reluctantly. The first thought was disappointment that the person entering was not her, he couldn’t think past that. It was him, without her, which was unusual because where there was Raphael, there was always Hadassah. Instead another person accompanied him, and before he was ever introduced Philip hated him.

_________________________________


Damian and I entered the library. Bittersweet memories assailed me, making it hard to breathe or even stand, but Damian kept a steady hand on me to support me as if I was an old man.
My eyes locked with Philip’s and I knew he didn’t know, still, there was a question demanding an answer reflecting in his eyes.
“Raphael, welcome back,” he said, “and who is this?”
Clearing my throat I introduced Damian, but then I was at a loss for words. How could I possibly speak the unspeakable?
“So then,” began the Prince, shattering the silence, “have you safely brought back your refugees?”
Nausea filled me, but still I answered.
“The ones with Damian and I have arrived, we are still awaiting Seraph’s small group, they’ve been delayed in Hungary.” I reported in what sounded like and official cold tone, though I didn’t mean it that way.
“Is Hadassah with them?” fear stained every part of the Prince’s features.
“No.” I said simply.
He just nodded, it seemed he was reluctant to ask the only question he sought an answer to.
Slowly I made my way to him, “Philip, lets sit down, there’s more you must know.”
His bent head shot up and his eyes flared but he obeyed, briefly looking at the unread letter neatly folded in his hands.
I looked at Damian for support but he averted my eyes. He looked around at each corner of the library in what looked like awe at the grand surroundings, but I knew what he was thinking. I knew that what he saw was simply a place where she had walked and laughed and dared to dream. The place was filled with her ghost, it was a place where an orphaned girl had learned she was loved by a prince. Was. What a horrible word, I thought.
But I felt more from Damian, his sentiments radiated from him no matter how he tried to cover them, he had fallen for her, now he grieved for her, he was as always a gentleman, and it was only the gentlemanly thing to do to fall in love.
“Where is Hadassah?” the Prince finally demanded.
So the horrid truth still insisted that it be given words, words that I chocked on, a tear preceding each one.
“Hadassah, she, s-she was shot by the Securitate. She saw a prisoner who was their intended target, she took the bullet for him. Neither made it, she wouldn’t let us stay.” Waves and waves of meaningless words, unreal words, that’s all they were, and they didn’t even make sense to me.
The Prince spoke all too calmly, too controlled, “What do you mean `wouldn’t let you stay’? Do you mean to say you just left her there alone? My Hadassah was left to die alone?” his voice rose with each pronounced syllable.
I would have replied, but Damian, ever the brother’s keeper came to my defense.
“We wouldn’t have left her alone for all the world. We loved her as much as you, but if you knew her, then you would know that when Hadassah asks you to do as she pleases, then you do as she pleases, especially if it’s her last request,” Damian paused for only a moment, “she said go, to save the ones remaining who stood a chance of being saved, and she said one more thing…” his voice trailed off, both the Prince and I waited to hear what else, for even I didn’t know there was more.
“Hadassah was not alone, she told me she saw someone, an awesome Being, and I saw him too. But with her last breath she said to tell you ‘It’s not what it seems’ and she loved you, she really did, she said you were her Aragon.”
Damian kept his voice as stone, but his hands were formed into tight, trembling fists.
We waited for the outburst to follow, but none came, only a whispered “Leave me.” Although it was the last thing we wanted to do, we did. As I reluctantly closed the doors behind us, I saw the Prince begin to read the unread letter from his beloved.

___________________________________


Dear Philip,

There is a journey ahead of me, of which I am both excited and scared of. It must be made without you. I can only pray you will not hate me. There is no telling of how this journey will end, so many lives are at stake, but as my predecessor said so I want to say the same thing, I want to live the same way, so if I go and I perish, then I perish honorably for the ones I love. But do not fear my Philip, no matter what do not fear.
My love for you has grown so much, still so often I think you are destined for someone else, you are beyond what I’ve imagined. What girl ever gets to meet the prince? What girl ever gains the prince’s love? I have. Dear God what a gift that is. Oh and yes I love you. But our future is in the hands of One who loves us even more then we love each other, if that can even be fathomed. He intertwined our lives at a very crucial point, oh Philip together we have changed lives, we have made a difference. You have been Aragon and I have been Arwen and it’s all been worth it. We have lived every moment as if it were our last.
But still, there is a raging battle ahead of us, I feel it in a way that can’t be rationally explained, for now the battle is mine alone… but I know it will come to you soon, and I would do anything for it not to fall on your shoulders. Be strong my love, don’t be angry with me, I’ve left you for a short time, and nothing is as it seems, not in this world. Remember the One who has conquered all.


Forever His and yours

Hadassah Laura Marcu

Impressum

Texte: All Rights Reseved
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 31.12.2010

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Widmung:
In Loving Memory of my father Emanuel Farcas who was the inspiration behind this book.