Doing the happy dance! The audiobook edition of my historical fiction novel, The Edge of Revolt, has just come out! Narrated by the one and only Bob Sterry, it tells the story of David. He loves his sons The last thing he expects is that they will topple him from the throne. Who among them will remain by his side? Who will be not only loyal, but also eager to continue his legacy?
Here is the excerpt for the 5-minute voice clip.
“You know you must act, before this night is over,” she says, over my silence.
Here is the excerpt for the 5-minute voice clip.
“You know you must act, before this night is over,” she says, over my silence.
Amused by how good it feels to be needed I take my time to answer. Meanwhile I am listening to my breath. It rasps strenuously in my throat.
At last, “Decisive action may be easy for a king,” I tell her. “But as a father I must weigh every word I speak, because in the future it may leave a scar upon the hearts of my children.”
Somewhat reluctantly she says, “I understand.”
“I hope you do,” say I. “They are, all of them, my flesh and blood.”
“Then, act as a king,” she says. “Not as a father. Name the one who will succeed you, the one who—in your judgement—may become a better ruler than the others.”
I have to admit, “I have yet to make up my mind,” which fills her eyes with worry. She knows all too well that Solomon, being the younger son, has less of a change to win my favor.
“Decide,” she says. “And make your wishes known. That in itself may bring about a change, a peaceful transition of power. Otherwise, I’m afraid there will be mayhem. It will start at sunrise.”
I let go of her hand, because to say my next sentence I must not lean on anyone.
But before I can muster my pride, and take air in my lungs, and clear my throat to state, in my most regal tones, “I am still the king, am I not,” I find myself staggering. In the next instant, there I am, a heap of arms and legs spilled on the floor, twisting in agony from the sudden chill overtaking me.
I reach up, trying to breathe her name. And I wonder what this suffering may look like, to her and to a heavenly city watching over me, floating silent and forlorn on the hill.
Overhead, a cloud breaks off from the others and moves in a new direction. Its wooly, dim grays are drifting across. I squint, rub my eyes. Now, in a separate layer, another image starts floating past: the way she looked, right here on this roof, when we came out of these doors the very first time.
I remember: scattered petals flew off, swirling in the glow around her long, silky hair that started cascading under her, onto the tile floor.
Accidentally the goblet, which she had set down next to her, tipped over and some of the wine spilled over her hip. The crisp sound of breaking glass rang in my ear. It marked the moment, from which I could not turn back. Never would I be able to put it out of my mind.
Yes, this was my fault: taking a woman that belonged to another. Soon after came the blunder: bringing her husband, Uriah, back from the front, that he may sleep with her, which would have explained her pregnancy ever so conveniently.
And when that did not go as planned, then came another mistake, the worst of all: sending him back to the battlefield, with my sealed letter in hand, arranging for his death.
All the while, my boys were learning their own lessons—not from my psalms but from my deeds. One error begets another, each one bringing a new calamity over me, over my family, and over this entire land. Sin followed by execution, followed by revolt, escape, execution, revolt...
Had I known back then the results of the results of my mistake, the curse looming over my life ever since that time, would I still choose to do it?
Bathsheba tries to raise me to my feet. Her fragrance brings back to me the sunny, warm hues of spring. The fears, the doubts flee away when we are that close. I adore the way she calls my name, the way she sighs. With every sweet word I fall deeper into her eyes.
How can love be a mistake? In my passion for her—then as now—what choice do I have?
I want to tell her, “Let me close my eyes. Let me remember.”
★ Love historical fiction? Treat yourself to a gift ★
"At times startling, as times awe-inspiring, and at all times fine reading, this is a welcome addition to the growing library of one our more important writers"
-Grady Harp, Hall of Fame Reviewer
"Quality above compare, this novel is written by a master wordsmith who knows how to tell a story... This one is up for one of the best for the year for fiction."
-Dennis Waller, Top 500 Reviewer
I am enchanted by your words, by the voice of Bob Sterry. I have to listen to the rest
ReplyDeleteAw... Thank you so much Anne-Louise! I totally agree with you about the voice of Bob Sterry!
DeleteThis looks like what I would call Biblical Fiction, which should be distinct from Christian Fiction. You're calling it Historical Fiction. I have written a book with kind of the same situation. Some will want to call it Christian Fiction, but it's not. It's Historical Fiction with Christian characters and themes. I would be willing to call it Biblical Fiction, which I see you have also written. All of that is to say, did you find a publisher for this, or did you self-publish?
ReplyDeleteHi David, glad this caught your attention, especially since you write in a similar vein :) I am an Indie author. For this series, I call it Historical Fiction. In many ways, because of the political struggles, it has a decidedly modern twist. What is the title of your book?
DeleteThrough Fear of Death. It's set in Rome near the end of the first century. Yeah, the royal courts of biblical Israel and Judah certainly had a lot of fodder for fiction.
DeleteCongratulations, Uvi, on your new audi-book. The excerpt is haunting and beautiful in the scene, the Edge of the Revolt.
ReplyDeleteOh thank you so much Linnea, happy you came by!
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