"My grace is all you need, for my power is the greatest when you are weak." -Psalm 73:26
Alaric gasps as he fishes his face out of the holy water, the sacred substance trickling down his cheeks. His hands reach forwards and grasp around the rim of the stone water fountain. Gabrial stares down upon him, the water slipping from his stone fingers, dripping rhythmically in the quiet room.
"Please," The new king whispers out, his damp face tilting forwards as his hands slap off the wet cascade.
His fingers claw together in prayer, his eyes squeezing shut in pain, as well as his mouth snapping shut with a shutter.
Gabriel listens encased in stone.
"Death is upon us, Jerusalem has not been the same after our last king died." whispers seem to fall on deaf ears, his breath shaky as he talks.
His head shakes, his neck sulking down like an anchor, his eyes opening, laying them on his praying hands.
"Please have grace, send us mercy, my lord I have not failed you. I have a kingdom to care for, the ruling I have to do..I can't possibly heal the sick among me. My people don't deserve this sickness, this pain." His voice breaks slightly, his lips quivering as he begs out.
"My people, they don't deserve this after losing a king so soon, please give us grace."
The water drips in response, the blessed rippling to his reflection, showing the broken king he is.
"Save us all."
***
A waggon spurs, almost toppling over as a few tomatoes dribble out of the basket. The farmer halts the horses, his bushy eyebrows snagging to an angry expression.
He reaches down, already upset that he had to be late, but now his basket spilled.
"Try to strap it on," A voice says with a non-condescending tone, the old man looks up, slightly bewildered.
Ahead of him is a man, his long black hair almost like a womans, tied back to show his face, a smile draped on his lips as he holds two tomatoes.
"Who are you?" The old man quizzes, his lips pursing and his forehead creasing.
"My apologies, I'm Jasadiah, Sedona." The black haired man introduced, making the geezer wonder.
"Sedona? I've never heard of such a surname." He eyes him suspiciously, but Jasadiah does not falter. "Are you from around here?"
"No, no I'm not, but I was wondering if you knew the way to Jerusalem?"
He moves, setting the two tomatoes he picked up into the basket on the old man's truck, the old man watching him carefully.
"Yes, I do, it's where I'm heading, but I don't suggest staying." He picks at his white beard, eyeing over to the young man, watching him move around like a bumble bee.
"The sickness?"
The old man sighs and rubs his forehead, moving and fixing his cart as he speaks. "Yes, the plague is affecting everyone in that town, death is more prominent than prayers." He sighs, making Jasadiah smile widely.
"Prayers are answered, many may be." He hums, pressing his hands together with a breath in. His blue eyes blink open and meet the confused old man.
"May not the lord have time to save you, but an angel always will." he assures, making the old man scowl.
YOU ARE READING
The Horns of Hattin
Historical FictionAfter the new king of Jerusalem, Alaric took over, the black plague did as well. In a horrified panic that everyone may die a gruesome death, he prays to the lord, feeling as if only the lord himself may save him. Shortly after his panicked prayer...
