The real battle was about to begin.
The arrogant demonic prince strutted about the room looking invulnerable, as pride often does, but he began to notice the quiet that had fallen upon the festivities. With the instinctive knowledge of many battles, he started to look around more carefully while Gabriel watched him.
The demonic storytelling had filled him with arrogant pride and made him careless. Gabriel knew that the Holy Presence had blinded him for a time, allowing his proud storytelling to fill his mind to the exclusion of all else.
He approached Gabriel’s position not because he had seen anything but simply for its strategic location. Gabriel tensed himself, gripping his sword tightly, ready to attack.
Shalamar made a slight move and the flickering light of holy presence was visible for a quick second. With a roar Prince Bashan charged into the rafters to flush him out but Shalamar had slipped to a new position and didn’t move again. The demonic brute peered closely into every corner of the room looking for them, finding nothing but his suspicions.
He spun around to look at the Rabbi Gamaliel and then at Benjamin, cursing himself loudly for not paying closer attention to the discussion.
“What were they talking about? The Passover? The Maschiach?” None of his subordinates dared to speak.
“That would be dangerous in this group,” he said to no one in particular. “We have our spies.”
He began to approach Gamaliel in order to probe his mind for answers but could not seem to move forward. Gabriel could feel the Holy Presence filling the room with His Majesty. A sense of growing joy and exhilaration swept over him but the demons cowered or fled the room.
Prince Bashan stood in the middle of the room for a long moment, his fists on his hips. But his body began to tremble, then his knees became weak, and, finally, he broke away to run stumbling and cowering into the darkest corner of the room.
Gabriel could sense what the demons could only suspect. The Presence was protecting Gamaliel for a time from demonic interference. Their authority had not yet been broken, that would come later, hopefully, but for now they were kept at bay, cowering in the dark corners of the room, as far away from Gamaliel as possible.
Then he understood why, for the murmuring of voices had grown quiet and everyone had fallen asleep. Everyone, that is, except Gamaliel. He, too, was quiet but his eyes were wide open, his gaze fixed upon heaven, living a vision that would change his life forever.
I, Gabriel, the archangel of God Almighty, testify to these things that they are true for I also looked and saw and remembered, and the remembering was good. . .
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The Temptations of the Cross by Bert A. Amsing
Copyright © 2012 by vanKregten Publishers. All rights reserved.
Footnotes and references included in original manuscript.