Free Song of Redemption by Lynn Austin Page B

Hephzibah was?
    “I know that in time we’ll have a son,” he said, “maybe by this time next year. But there’s really no hurry. I plan to live a long time, so I won’t be needing an heir right away.”
    She looked up at him, smiling through her tears, and Hezekiah was overcome again by her loveliness. “I will give you an heir—I promise! If I bring regular offerings to Asherah, she—” “Oh no,” Hezekiah groaned. Hephzibah worshiped idols. He released her from his arms.
    “What’s wrong?” she asked.
    Hezekiah saw the look of horror on her face as she realized she had lost him again, and in spite of the revulsion he felt toward her idolatry, Hezekiah couldn’t bear to hurt her. He studied her delicate face for a moment, the perfect slope of her nose, the slant of her eyes, the flush of her smooth, tawny skin.
    “Do you believe in Yahweh, Hephzibah?” he asked.
    “Yes; my family taught me to offer sacrifices to him.”
    “Other gods, too?”
    “Yes.”
    “Which ones?”
    “The lord Baal … the goddess Asherah …”
    “And Molech?” He felt his stomach turn.
    “No, my lord. Not Molech.”
    Hezekiah sighed. Once again he remembered that Hephzibah had been a gift from Ahaz, and her idolatry didn’t surprise him. He knew he was free to divorce a wife who worshiped idols and to choose his own wife, but he was amazed to realize that he didn’t want to. Maybe it was because he recognized her deep love for him. Or maybe because she was so very beautiful. Hezekiah didn’t fully understand why, but he knew he wanted to give Hephzibah another chance. He felt irresistibly drawn to her, like the proverbial moth to the flame.
    “There is only one God,” he said gently. “Yahweh. He is the only God we will ever worship in this nation and in this household as long as I am king. The others are only wood and stone. If you want to remain married to me, you must give up Baal and Asherah and worship only Him.” He wondered if he was asking for too much too soon.
    “I will do anything for you,” she said, and again he saw the love in her eyes. He believed her.
    Hezekiah wondered what would happen if he opened his heart to her in love. He hadn’t really loved any of his concubines. “Confide in her. Listen to her. Win her loyalty and her love, and you’ll be the happiest man alive,” Zechariah had assured him. But how would he begin to build a life with her? Hezekiah didn’t even know her. He gazed around the room, searching for a place to start, and spotted a small lyre.
    “Is that little harp yours, Hephzibah? Can you play it?”
    “Yes.” Her smile was both shy and radiant.
    “Would you play a song for me? I love music, but I don’t play an instrument myself. My grandfather is a Levite singer, and of course my ancestor David was a musician, but I didn’t inherit any of their talent.”
    “Shall I sing for you, too?”
    “Yes, I’d like that.” He watched as she picked up the lyre and began strumming it softly. He could tell by the way her delicate fingers caressed the strings that she was an accomplished player. But when she began to sing, her voice was the most beautiful sound Hezekiah had ever heard. It flowed so sweetly and effortlessly that she made singing seem easy. He sat entranced, feeling the tension and strain of his day melt away. He was sorry when the song ended.
    He sat in silence for several moments, enjoying her beauty, basking in it. Then he said, “Please … sing another one.”
    She smiled. “All right. I’ll play one that was written by another ancestor of yours.” She strummed a few bars of a haunting melody, then began to sing.
    “ ‘Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth—for your love is more delightful than wine… . Take me away with you—let us hurry! Let the king bring me into his chambers… . Arise, my darling, my beautiful one, and come with me.’ ”
    When she finished, Hezekiah gently took the lyre from her hands and gathered her into his