Journey to the Cedar Palace

Five years passed and Marah became less fearful for her son's life. She could almost believe that all would be well, and they would live a quiet, happy existence, with the rest of the world unaware that the heir to Saul's dynasty played in the dusty Lodebar streets. Micah liked to go with her to the well. He usually found other children his age to run and play with there. Marah and Opha walked at a leisurely pace this morning and talked, while Micah chased a frog, attempting to hop like it was doing. The two women watched the boy, both charmed by his every action. He was such a happy child. He was also very inquisitive. He wanted to know how everything worked and why. Marah's heart swelled with pride as she watched him. He was kind to all of God's creatures from lowly bugs, and animals, to people.

Micah was squatting in the path showing the frog to a boy about his size, when a horse came thundering toward them. There were very few times that a horse and rider came through Lodebar. It was certain that no one from here could afford to own horses. She raced forward tossing the water pot aside and scooped up a boy in each arm. Blood pounded in her temples as she ran from the danger. The boys, unaware that they were almost crushed, murmured in awe at the sight of the massive animal. Micah had a wooden horse that his father carved for him, but he had never seen a live one until now. Opha ran to her, clutching her. She still looked frightened. Marah was about to reassure her that the boys were fine, when she saw the panic gripping the older woman. Her face had gone pale as milk.“You must warn him," Opha said in a whisper. "Run daughter! I will stay with Micah.”In her sprint to save the boys from harm, Marah had not gotten a good look at the rider. She did notice that he wore a military uniform, and she was pretty sure he was not a Benjamite. He was not alone either. She cut through the field to the side and ran as fast as she could. It was a shorter route if she could maneuver her way across the field of bramble bushes. She needed to get back home before the horse's rider found Mephibosheth. She had to tell him to hide!

She was too late. The soldier was already at their home talking to Machir. Machir was shaking his head and threw up his hands. He would surely tell them he didn't know where to find Mephibosheth. He could send them in the wrong direction. "Think, Marah." She willed herself to come up with a plan. "What could she do to distract them," she wondered. The rider mounted and turned the horse quickly in the direction Mephibosheth was sure to be. The pottery kilns. He had planned to fire the pieces this morning once he had moved them from the cave where he left them to dry. She watched helplessly as several more men joined the first rider. Not far behind them came Micah, as fast as his little legs would carry him.“No! My son", she croaked. A haggard looking Opha was chasing behind him, holding the hem of her skirts. She stopped and held her heaving chest, gulping to get air.“Mother, I came to see the horses with you!", shouted the little boy. He didn't realize that this wasn't a happy game they were playing. Mephibosheth appeared from inside the mouth of the cave, a clay jar in his hands. He, usually so careful and sure of grip, lost hold of the jar and it fell near his feet. The soldier, who had dismounted , bent to pick it up, and when he saw the rags tied around her husband's feet, Marah could see that he realized he had the man he was looking for. The rough looking soldier stared at Mephibosheth with a gleam in his eye. "The son of Jonathan I presume," said the soldier. Mephibosheth bowed his head. There was no need to deny it.