A Light on the Hill (Cities of Refuge Book #1)

By Connilyn Cossette

Seven years ago, Moriyah was taken captive in Jericho and branded with the mark of the Canaanite gods. Now the Israelites are experiencing peace in their new land, but Moriyah has yet to find her own peace. Because of the shameful mark on her face, she hides behind her veil at all times and the disdain of the townspeople keeps her from socializing. And marriage prospects were out of the question . . . until now.

Her father has found someone to marry her, and she hopes to use her love of cooking to impress the man and his motherless sons. But when things go horribly wrong, Moriyah is forced to flee. Seeking safety at one of the newly-established Levitical cities of refuge, she is wildly unprepared for the dangers she will face, and the enemies--and unexpected allies--she will encounter on her way.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
• Release date: Feb 6, 2018
• ISBN: 9781493413614

Connilyn Cossette

Connilyn Cossette (www.connilyncossette.com) is a Christy Award and Carol Award-winning author whose books have been found on ECPA and CBA bestseller lists. When she is not engulfed in the happy chaos of homeschooling two teenagers, devouring books whole, or avoiding housework, she can be found digging into the rich ancient world of the Bible to discover gems of grace that point to Jesus and weaving them into an immersive fiction experience. Although she and her husband have lived all over the country in their twenty-plus years of marriage, they currently call a little town south of Dallas, Texas, their home.

Book preview

Prologue

Jericho

1406 BC

The priest’s kohl-lined eyes glazed over as he held the iron brand in the center of cedar-fueled flames. Pressing my back against the column I was tied to, I clawed my nails into the wood.

It will be over soon, little Hebrew, said the man with painted lips, blood-red and curving with false tenderness. And then you will belong to our Great Goddess, Ashtoreth. He gestured to the crescent moon hovering low in the black sky. There is no greater mistress. No higher calling than to be one with the Divine Lady of the Night. The Queen of Heaven. The Consort of Our Lord Ba’al.

From the moment my friend Alanah and I had been kidnapped by Midianite traders from the Hebrew camp, I’d determined to cling to Yahweh—to the hope that somehow my people would rescue us from Jericho before they invaded. But after being stolen from the home of Alanah’s sister Rahab, where we’d taken refuge for the past few months, and tied to this Asherah pole in the courtyard of the temple, I’d been forced to acknowledge that Yahweh may not have heard my pleas, or deigned to answer.

Stop toying with the girl, Reshbal. Finish it. The ancient High Priestess looked on from the bottom step of the temple porch, disdain slathered across her face as thick as her overdone cosmetics. She flicked hennaed talons at me. The king wants her first thing in the morning.

The triumphant gleam in the woman’s black-rimmed eyes made my skin prickle. What would they do to me after they branded me like a beast? And why would the king of Jericho want to speak to a thirteen-year-old girl?

The priest tipped his head to his mistress, lifted the rod from the fire built upon a tall bronze brazier, and held it aloft as he sauntered toward me, bare-chested and tattoos swirling down his arms and up the sides of his shaved head. The branding iron glowed red-orange, outlining the symbols of Ba’al and Ashtoreth that would forever mark my flesh. I whimpered and slammed the back of my head against the wood, gripping the carved surface with desperation. If only there were something else to cling to instead of a towering cedar pole engraved with hideous gods.

The man’s kohl-blackened brows, stark against his pale skin, lifted as he dragged his dark eyes up and down my body. My shoulders jerked forward, as if by curving inward I could shield myself from his leering. Nausea flamed in my chest as my mind caught up with their earlier conversation. Now I knew. I knew what their plans were for me.

Yahweh! Yahweh!

Now. My lovely. I would advise holding still. We wouldn’t want those fascinating silver eyes to be blinded, would we? Turn your face to the side now, like a good little girl.

I could not have turned my head if I wanted to, convulsions paralyzed me. Yahweh . . . Yahweh . . .

Please . . . The silent entreaty formed on my lips, and I tasted the salt of my terror as tears slipped into my mouth. No.

The flames of the enormous brazier framed the priest on either side and the temple loomed behind, a many-toothed monster of stone and cedar waiting to consume me.

Yahweh . . . Yah . . . Even my prayers shuddered to a stop as the priest lifted the brand in the air with one hand and shoved my cheek against the column with a snarl. The metallic smell of the brand filled my nostrils as he chanted a foul blessing to his foul goddess.

The metal slammed against my cheek, searing my flesh in an explosion of pain that spiked to the soles of my feet and to every fingertip. I screamed as my head jerked and the edge of the brand slipped across the corner of my eyelid, digging fiery teeth into the tender skin. My knees gave way and I slumped sideways, the rope chafe on my wrists overtaken by fire-breathed agony. My addled mind floated my parents’ images across my hazed sight. Abba! Ima! I moaned, as if their hearts could hear my own. The fire dug deeper into my skin. It would never stop burning.

Kill me. Kill me, Yahweh. Have mercy.

A shout echoed across the temple courtyard, but I could see nothing past tears and fire. Someone was screaming at the priestess. Someone whose voice reminded me of home. I managed to pry my right eye open and push back against the haze that threatened to drag me into unconsciousness and recoiled again at the sight before me.

Mercy had arrived—not in the form of relief from my blazing torment, but in the form of an arrow through the eye of the priest on the ground in front of me. . . . I blinked again, attempting to clear my vision. . . . Alanah strode across the void, another copper-tipped missile nocked in her bow, aimed directly at the High Priestess of Jericho.

CHAPTER

One

7 Av

1399 BC

Shiloh, Israel

With one finger I followed the rippled path of shame down my face. The scarred ridge of the crescent moon of Ashtoreth cupped my cheekbone in a cruel embrace. One ray of the sun-wheel of Ba’al above it slashed across the corner of my eyelid, a constant reminder of how easily I could have been blinded when the High Priestess ordered me branded as a temple slave seven years ago. The fact that she’d been buried beneath the rubble of Jericho the next morning was no consolation. It did not erase the false accusation permanently burned into my skin—prostitute.

Shaking the word from my head, along with the memories of my time of captivity in Jericho before it fell, I knelt in front of the open-mouthed tannur oven. The flames that had sparked the horrific memory had died down, the coals now pulsing a steady glow within. After a wave of my hand over the embers to ensure the temperature was even, I slapped a few circles of dough around the walls of the oven and waited for them to begin to curl away from the blackened surface. The smell of acrid smoke tinged with yeasty bread was a comfort, completing the work of bringing me back to the present.

Built for some Canaanite woman and situated beneath a small hole in the ceiling to release smoke, this round, clay oven was the centerpiece of the house. Although I was grateful to no longer cook our daily bread on a flat rock next to a campfire in the wilderness, whenever I used the oven I wondered about the enemy woman whose hands used to press dough to its sides. Had she too looked out the same window, longing to be free of these four walls?

A sudden knock at the door halted my musings. I placed the last round of warm bread into a basket, my heart tapping out a tremulous beat as I called out a moment please. Then layering my linen headscarf over my hair, I twisted, tucked, and tied until most of my face was hidden behind a swath of sky blue. The ritual, accomplished every day for the last seven years without a mirror, was as familiar as it was frustrating. Only my eyes would be visible. Nothing left to judge.

I unlatched the door and pulled it open a handspan, enough to see that it was merely Yuval, my father’s steward. Relief steadied my runaway pulse.

Shalom. He dipped his head with his usual deference, a few threads of early silver hair glinting among his dark brown curls. Although Yuval rarely smiled, his narrow-set brown eyes communicated kindness and patience with my reluctance to open the door wider. Your father asked that you come find him. He would like to speak with you.

In the vineyard? Why? For the past few weeks my father had spent every waking moment among his vines, checking and rechecking for the precise moment the grapes would be ready for harvest. He is not feeling poorly again, is he?

My father’s most trusted servant shrugged without revealing his thoughts, although his relaxed manner assured me the summons was not overly urgent. Yuval would no more discuss my father’s secrets than cut off his own hand, even with me. With a gesture toward where I would find my father among the vines, he turned and walked away, his loyalty intact. I longed to run after him and beg for more information, but I could not chance coming across one of the new field hands who had not seen me before. I’d had enough of the staring and the pointing and the disparaging looks. These walls were as much a refuge as they were a prison.

Stalling, I placed a few pieces of bread into a small basket for my father, alongside a handful of briny olives and the herb-infused goat cheese he loved wrapped in a square of linen. Then I scooped the still-warm ashes from the oven into a large pot and tidied the room until I had nothing else to prevent me from venturing outside.

With a white-knuckled grip on the door handle, I took a few slow, deep breaths before stepping over the threshold into the blinding sunlight, basket in hand. Only after scanning the field for movement and listening for any nearby voices did I head for the place Yuval had indicated, counting each step to keep my mind occupied.

Long lines of vines trailed past our home, drenched in sunlight and heavy with fruit, sloping down the hillside. Just below the boundaries of our land, the Mishkan perched atop a small rise, the white linen fences of the Tent of Meeting undulating in the ever-present breeze that whispered through this valley. Squinting, I could still envision the shekinah presence of Yahweh that used to hover over its black covering until we’d entered Canaan and now resided only above the ark within the holiest place, hidden from view.

After searching row after row, I found my father with his back toward me, his knowing hands surveying the fruit of his tireless work of rebuilding the vineyard since the Amorites fled this valley nearly four years ago, leaving many charred and burning fields in their wake. Seeing the abundance possible after such deliberate destruction by our enemies gave me hope that our people might eventually flourish in this new land, yielding fruit for countless generations to come.

I walked down the path shaded by sprawling, twisted vines, inhaling the rich scent of the earth mixed with the sweet tinge of grapes readying for harvest. My father’s workers had been harvesting the crops and treading the grapes for days now. Only this small section remained unharvested, the vines that had been planted from seeds carried from Egypt. After three years of training the spindly new tendrils on piled rocks and low fences, pruning carefully, nourishing roots with ash, and coddling the buds when they finally poked tentative faces toward the sun—his labors had finally yielded wine-worthy grapes.

My abba had learned such techniques at the knee of his own father, an Egyptian vintner who’d tended Pharaoh’s own vines and who’d insisted he recite the steps, again and again, throughout the forty years they’d traveled in the wilderness.

My grandfather, having joined the Hebrews during the Great Exodus and committing his path to Yahweh, had hoped that someday his legacy would be planted in the Land of Promise—but his own eyes never saw the day. Instead my father, born at the foot of the mountain where our people entered into covenant with Yahweh, had completed the journey for him.

Will the field hands begin picking these today? I grasped a bunch, the red skins warm and silky in my palm. I twisted one of the globes from its home and popped it into my mouth. Sweetness exploded against my tongue, a reminder of the first time I’d ever eaten a grape whisking through my memory—a tantalizing taste while running through the Canaanite countryside with my friend Alanah, as we had tried to find our way back to the Hebrew camps—a moment that had sparked my fascination with every flavor and texture available in this land.

My father hummed as he bit a grape in half and checked the color of the flesh with his little finger. Yes. These are finally ready.

No matter that he was approaching his fiftieth year and that his attire was thoroughly Hebrew, my father’s posture and lanky build still announced his full-blooded Egyptian heritage. His black hair, although silvering at the temples, was thick and bound at the nape of his neck with a leather tie. His full beard brushed the top of his broad chest. A sudden memory of tangling my small fingers in his beard whispered through my mind, along with the honeyed memory of my mother’s laughter at his ridiculous antics and loud exclamations.

Since her death only a few months before, shortly after we’d left Gilgal to join my father here in Shiloh, the vineyard had become his solace. He buried his grief beneath the vines, watered the soil with silent tears, and spent hours every day walking up and down the rows, checking each plant with the same tenderness he’d offered my frail mother as she’d withered into nothing after a sudden illness had stripped her of strength.

Coming alongside him, I peered out of the corner of my eye to catch the curve of his smile before it diminished beneath the weight of his memories. What I wouldn’t do to hear the full breadth of his enveloping laughter again. She would have been so proud. I wish she were here to see the first grapes from the seeds Grandfather carried out from Egypt being harvested.

The pause before he spoke was louder than his words, as was the grief still fresh on his face. As do I, he said, reaching out to slip his arm about my shoulder. She had faith, even when I did not, that this vineyard could be salvaged and that my father’s withered, forty-year-old seeds would miraculously sprout.

We stood together, breathing in tandem. The safety I’d always felt beneath the shelter of my father’s arm was no different now than it had been when I was a little girl. Even when I’d been a captive in Jericho, I had only to summon the sensation of being tucked against his body, with the warm rumble of his voice against my cheek, to feel a measure of calm.

He cleared his throat before speaking. Yehoshua will be calling an assembly this afternoon.

Have the men surveying the tribal lands finally returned? A team of soldiers, mapmakers, and scribes—three men from each of the seven tribes that had yet to receive their portion of the land—had set out months ago to walk the length and breadth of this newly conquered country. They had been due back for weeks and feared captured along the way.

They have. His gaze slipped away from me and toward the ground, his fingers feathering through the end of his long beard. Yehoshua has been debriefing them for the past couple of days. Soon they will begin casting lots to determine which cities will be allotted to each tribe.

So it will all be up to chance?

No, daughter, it will be up to Yahweh which tribe settles in which area.

We won’t be forced to move, will we? Not after Yehoshua rewarded you for your faithful service with this land? After all the work you’ve done to revive this vineyard?

No. Shiloh is to remain the permanent home of the Mishkan, a holy place tended by the Levites, and this vineyard will continue to supply wine for the offerings and celebrations.

But aren’t you concerned that—

He turned to me, cutting me off with a sweep of his long arm toward the Mishkan. Let us leave those worries to Yehoshua. For now . . . I must speak with you about a matter. He pulled in a wavering breath through his nose, as if his thoughts pained him.

Worry pattered through my mind with quick steps. Are you feeling ill again? I swayed toward him, hand outstretched to grasp his. The pain in your chest? The image of my father, pale-faced, sweat drenched, and gasping for breath a few weeks ago, surfaced. Panic outpaced worry and my lungs constricted.

Oh, no—No. He squeezed my fingers with a reassuring smile. I am much stronger today than I have been in a long while. But . . . the episode reminded me that I have been lacking in my duties.

Your duties? There is no one that works harder than you in this vineyard. Are you sure Yuval has enough men lined up to begin the harvest? You must not overexert—

Moriyah, he interrupted. I am not speaking of my vineyard. I am speaking of you.

Me?

He curved a callused palm over my veiled cheek. I must ensure you are provided for, should I not recover next time.

My limbs went slack, and I nearly dropped the food basket. There won’t be a next time. You said you are feeling stronger.

Daughter. Censure lowered his voice. I will not live forever. Your brother is gone. Your younger sisters are all married. When I am gathered to my fathers, you will have no one to care for you.

The reminder of my older brother Shimon, killed in battle before even setting foot in Canaan, pierced me through. If only he’d lived, he would no doubt have protected and provided for his castoff sister. Shimon had been a warrior, unwavering in his fierce defense of his family and his God. The space he’d left behind still vibrated with emptiness.

I have Yahweh to care for me, I said, feigning confidence. And perhaps one of the cousin’s families will allow me to live with them. Elisheva in particular enjoys my cooking, and his wife is kind—

My father shook his head, halting my arguments. "You need a husband. This land is too perilous, my daughter. You must have someone to protect you. I would be remiss as a father if I did not ensure that you were safe. Cared for. You will be a wonderful mother. At twenty years of age you should already be a mother. His lips flattened. It is my fault that you are not."

It is not your fault that no one will have me, Abba. Nor your fault that this happened. I gestured to my veil. You have tried your best to find a match. I shrugged the thought away. It is no use. This brand will forever mark me as a temple harlot. What man would choose to bind himself to such?

His eyes brightened, a secret brewing in their silver depths. "I have found you a husband."

You what? I tripped back a step. But who? At a loss for words, and breath, I longed to yank the suffocating veil from my face.

He is one of the men who has been surveying the land for Yehoshua for the past few months. His father Pekah is a reputable man of the tribe of Naftali—a man who fought well under the leadership of Calev at the battle of Ai and sacrificed much. I have come to know him quite well in the past few weeks.

But what of the son? The words scratched to the surface. Does he know . . . ? Instinct drew my hand to my cheek.

He does. And he does not care.

But . . . why? When he has not even seen me, why would he agree?

My father’s expression twisted with stark guilt. I ensured your dowry was sufficient.

How much would cause a man to brush aside my affliction? You said all the gold our family carried from Egypt is gone. You used the last of it to rebuild the vineyard.

He paused, his gaze drifting over the valley. I offered the vineyard itself.

My hand flew to my veiled mouth. Abba, no!

What use is a vineyard when I am in the grave? My firstborn son is dead. It was always my plan to use this land to provide for you, to ensure some man would . . .

Accept a wife with a blasphemous scar on her face?

He lowered his voice. Perhaps it is the vineyard he desires now, my beautiful daughter. But no one could resist loving you, if they give it a chance. I believe that Yahweh is providing a man who will see beyond the veil, past the mark, and into your heart. He pulled me close and kissed my ruined cheek through the linen. I will not let any harm come to you, my beautiful daughter. I would give everything I have and more to see you cared for and cherished, the way you deserve to be.

CHAPTER

Two

Lured by the inviting scent of leeks and onions, I paused at the market stall to survey the farmer’s goods. The colorful array of vegetables displayed on the table beckoned me, stirring ideas for new dishes in my imagination. Lifting a head of red cabbage, I examined it from every angle. Once satisfied with its weight, firmness, and lack of browned edges, I offered the farmer’s wife a fair price for it and for a bunch of leeks that was so fresh the soil on its tangled roots was still damp.

With a nod of her white head and a smile, she accepted. I drank in the kind gesture like cool water. So few people even bothered to look me in the eye anymore, as if connecting with my gaze would taint them somehow. Or perhaps to most people I was simply invisible.

Tucking the goods in the basket at my elbow, next to my other purchases, I moved along to the next stall. Yuval walked beside me, as he always did when I ventured to the crowded marketplace. If I could avoid coming here to purchase ingredients, I would do so, but the last two times I asked him to select a few things, I’d received unripe fruit and flavorless spices. I needed to see, touch, smell, and taste for myself. Besides, I had need of a distraction from thoughts of my upcoming betrothal.

Due to the overwhelming business of completing the harvest and preparing the wine, along with the ongoing negotiations between the tribes over the land, formal introductions would not be made until after the grape-harvest festival in a few days.

Despite my misgivings and questions about the man my father had chosen for me, the bustle of the many bodies pressing in to peruse the goods, the layered chatter, and the insistent bartering made my blood race with anticipation. Since I’d been a small girl and caravans of traders would come through the Hebrew camps out in the wilderness, I’d always adored market days.

Look, Yuval! I gestured toward the next stand, which nearly sagged beneath the weight of pots mounded high with spices. The mingling of the disparate aromas enticed me, and I leaned in to inhale the strangely pleasant combination. What is this one? I asked the grizzled trader beside the booth.

Cumin. His rheumy eyes took in my veil with cool disaffection. Brought in from the western coast.

Such an interesting smell! I gestured toward the tiny seedpods. May I?

With a nod, he indicated that I was welcome to sample, so I scooped up two seeds, smashed them between my fingers, and then snaked my hand beneath my veil to taste. I closed my eyes, imagining what flavors the cumin would pair best with. Lamb? Poultry?

Oh, I know! I said to Yuval as I tucked my veil back into place, as if he’d been privy to my imaginings. I’ll use this spice in that stew Ora loves so much. It will complement it so well! I asked the trader for two handfuls of the seedpods, and with a sniff he turned to search out a square of linen to wrap them in.

Someone called out to Yuval, and we both turned to search out the origin of the summons. One of my father’s young workers, barely grown into his sparse beard, darted through the crowd to reach us. I was sent to find you. The largest of the treading vats cracked. Juice is seeping into the ground. We need you!

Yuval glanced at me with concern but I waved a hand. Go! My father is likely beside himself. He’ll need your expertise. I have only a few more things to purchase. I’ll be fine.

Your father instructed me to ensure your safe return.

Still raw from thoughts of my father’s decision to send me away, I held back a loud sigh. I will be fine. Go. Save the wine.

You will come straight back when you are finished?

I am a grown woman, Yuval. I put a hand on my hip, frustration building. I made it out of Jericho alive, I am certain I can walk up the hill on my own.

Yuval scanned the market, his gaze wandering over the crowd and whatever threat he perceived to be among them. But he nodded his head and followed after the young man, the blue and white tassels at the corners of his garment swaying with his long stride.

Since the day my father had spared his life during the invasion of Shiloh, Yuval had been a loyal servant, even so far as abiding by every Torah regulation—from wearing the tzitzit on his clothes in reminder of the laws he’d vowed to follow, to circumcision, to worshipping Yahweh alongside his master. He’d thrown off everything of his former life to become an Israelite and was now four years into a voluntary six-year indenture period. I wondered where he would go when set free, once his time was fulfilled.

I turned to search the nearest stall for some scallions and peppercorns for the surprise I was preparing for my blind friend Ora.

 . . . must be hideous. The hissed words sliced into my meal planning, and against my will, my eyes traveled to their origin. Two girls, possibly three or four years younger than me, stood near a pottery stand, scrutinizing me.

Seeing they’d captured my attention, the taller one leaned toward her companion, without taking her eyes off of me, her golden-brown hair shimmering in the bright sun. I heard they carved her face like they carve one of those idolatrous Asherah poles.

The story of my rescue from Jericho was a popular one, told around campfires for the last seven years. There were many variations of the story, each one more exaggerated than the next. None of them the entire truth. Although there were many who regarded Alanah and me as heroines for surviving Jericho and all its perils, some assumed that a girl taken prisoner, hidden away in the home of a prostitute for months, and then marked as a temple harlot by the High Priestess of Jericho could in no way remain a maiden. In their minds I’d been sullied over and over by depraved worshipers in the temple of Ba’al, even though in truth I’d never even stepped foot inside.

White-hot flashes of shame pulsed through my body, through every extremity. This was why I loathed venturing away from the vineyard, away from the safety of our home, the comforting smell of my spice pots, and the distraction of baking and cooking for my family and friends. Although most people ignored me, content to let their eyes slide past the girl in the veil, there were a few who took it upon themselves to trumpet their opinions, regardless of fact.

The chatter in the marketplace dissolved into awkward silence; even the few children who had been playing chase among the stalls stopped to stare. Stomach swirling with dread, I turned to head home, wishing that my veil could block me completely from sight—as if I’d never even existed. Why had I not left with Yuval?

The girl behind me delivered one last lash, her tone arched with derision. "That’s right. Go back and hide among your ill-gotten vines, zonah. Your Egyptian whore-bred father didn’t deserve that land in the first place."

By sheer force of will I held my tongue, restrained the hot tears that threatened to expose my weakness, and placed one foot after another until I was free of the market. I trudged up the steep path that led to the vineyard, feeling as though I was dragging that girl and her vicious words behind me in the dirt. Just as I neared the top of the ridge and the boundary stone that marked my father’s land, something slammed into the back of my head.

Disoriented, I spun around, and two rocks thwacked into my chest. With a sharp cry, I lifted my arms, hoping to block the assault as more rocks hurtled toward me. The high-pitched insults of two boys followed the missiles. With cackling laughter, they repeated the accusation

Reviews for A Light on the Hill (Cities of Refuge Book #1)

[lcjohnson1988_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Title: A Light on The Hill (Cities of Refuge #1)Author: Connilyn CossettePages: 336Year: 2018Publisher: BethanyMy rating is 5 out of 5 stars.This story is a heart-throbbing, pulse-pounding and faith-intensive tale. It centers on the book of Joshua when the Israelites were setting up cities of refuge in the land God gave to them. The main purpose of cities of refuge were for people to flee to if they accidently killed someone. It is where they would have to live out their lives until the current high priest died or they themselves died. If they left that city at any time, an avenger was free to take the offender’s life.There are several reasons I loved this book. One, the time was kept by the Hebrew calendar, helping keep readers’ minds in that time. Two, readers will get a flavor for what other nations in the land were doing or how they looked upon the Israelites. Three, the constant tension of never knowing if the main character fleeing to a refuge city was going to arrive before being killed.Moriyah had been branded before the walls of Jericho were brought down, so if people saw the brand they jumped to conclusions. Some of the taunts and ways people treated her, whether real or perceived by her, were so hurtful she placed herself in isolation in her home. She cared for her father and neighbors through her cooking abilities. Her father arranged a marriage, but it wasn’t to the man Moriyah thought, which caused the heart of this reader to wonder if her desire to marry would become a reality.Moriyah built a wall around her heart that even kept her from hearing Yahweh’s voice, so she thought He left her too. Now, she needs men who are willing to help her flee to a city of refuge before the man bent on taking her life captures her. The man helping her to arrive safely is closely related to the man seeking revenge, and somewhere along the way a romance that Moriyah knows can never be begins to grow.What a fantastic story that captures the heart of readers and challenges us all to let the wall of separation between us and Yahweh down and listen for His voice. Can we trust Him to know what is best for us and help us walk through the time even if it isn’t what we thought life would look like as Moriyah learned?I can’t wait until the next book is released as this biblical story, while written fictionally, is beyond exceptional! It helps people to see that He is faithful and truly brings about the best for us and others even when we don’t see the “how”. Don’t wait another minute to enjoy this novel!Disclosure of Material Connection: I received one or more of the products or services mentioned above for free in the hope that I would mention it on my blog. Regardless, I only recommend products or services I use personally and believe will be good for my readers. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255. “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”

[beverlylynnt · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Have you ever wondered how the Hebrews coming out of Egypt experienced the takeover of the populated area of Canaan? No, I'm not referring to the bloody battles, but to the families who settled into the land, coaxed the fields to life, set up businesses, and made their living while trying to settle into a land unlike anything they had experienced so far. Unlike the desert terrain and fertile river banks of Egypt, and the semi-desert areas of the wilderness they spent the past 40 years in, this new land was lush and green. How did they accomplish this? They were surrounded by hostile people supported by the Egyptian government who didn't take kindly to their invasion. What was it like? That is what this book is all about. This was the era of Joshua, fulfilling God's command to fill the land. This author paints a realistic picture of what this could have been like through the eyes of young Moriyah, her best friend Ora, and her young 9-year-old neighbor Eitan. This book is incredible. I think I have discovered a new author (to me) of Biblical fiction that delves into details with enthusiasm and accuracy. She has written several series so far that I haven't read yet. But I love her writing style, the detail she includes, the imagination that puts flesh on the bare bones of sometimes dry history. With this book, I discovered new perspectives I hadn't considered before. This book was truly a living experience. I actually felt I was there. I will be certain to pick up her other series and read them, I'm that impressed.Besides being a piece of historical fiction, this book is filled with action and suspense. Moriyah has been accused of killing two young teens. She must flee to a city set aside by God as a sanctuary for people to plea for a fair trial. The next of kin has the right to avenge the deaths of the boys without retribution. Along the way, the boys' father prevents them getting to the nearest safe city, so the group traveling with Moriyah must go to the next city, which will take them through dangerous territory controlled by the Canaanites. There are many dangers to face along the way. Additionally, there is an element of romance during their travels. But because of the accusations against her, Moriyah despairs of a future for her and Derek. The characters are likable, real, and easily related to. I would call the group traveling together highly colorful. I could barely put the book down because of all the twists and turns in the plot. I even enjoyed reading the book a second time. It was just as fresh as reading it the first time through. There are also some wonderfully contemplative moments where Moriyah learns more about the God of Israel whom she thought had abandoned her earlier in her life. The book contains some beautiful word pictures of the grace of God as she learns how He provided grace and mercy to his people. I highly recommend this book. This is the first book in a new series. I am certainly looking forward to reading the rest of the books that follow. Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary review copy of this book from Bethany House Publishers. I was not required to write a review, positive or otherwise. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part255: "Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising."

[virginia51-1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This book kept my interest from start to finish. I loved Moriyah and understood why she kept herself hidden for those many years. It would be horrible to think that you accidentally murdered someone. It was fascinating to read about some of the customs that were in effect during this time period. Loved this story. I received a copy of this book from Bethany House for a fair and honest opinion that I gave of my own free will.

[nicnac63 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

What a beautiful story! A Light on the Hill is book one in the two book Cities of Refuge series, and one of Connilyn Cossette’s best. She is a gifted storyteller and brings a new light to ancient Bible times. I love when a story teaches, inspires, and changes me. This story not only entertains, but showcases God’s grace—in ancient times and now.It is easy to sympathize and empathize with Moriyah. She, like us all, has made mistakes and wonders if it’s possible to overcome or move past them. My heart pounded as I read about Moriyah’s quest to reach one of the cities of refuge. I felt her pain and urged her to have faith that God’s mercy awaited her. We all have it in us to be a light for God.Oh my. I love a story that leaves me changed. There isn’t a book by this author that I didn’t love. A Light on the Hill is a beacon of hope, showing us that though we fail and stumble, there is a path we can follow to find forgiveness and mercy—if we look toward the Light of the world.Ms. Cossette’s writing is superb, easy to read, and keeps me turning pages. There wasn’t a dull moment, no dragging dialogue. If you’ve never read Biblical fiction, this is a great place to start. I can’t wait to read book two of this stunning 2-book series.

[anne_rightler-1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

A Light on the Hill is author Connilyn Cossette's first book in her new series, Cities of Refuge. It is an amazingly remarkable story. Biblical fiction is one of my favorite genres to read and this book did not disappoint. Cossette is an expert storyteller and she has woven a wonderful tale of a young girl who because of a scarred face finds contentment and peace behind the confining door of her home--her self-imposed prison. Unexpectedly, Moriyah finds herself fleeing from those who would seek justice by taking her life. Would she be a survivor? Could she reach safety before being caught and killed? And what really is ahead--death or life imprisoned yet again in the city of refuge? Would anyone see beyond the scarred face to see who she really is? Could Moriyah herself see beyond the scar? If her face was whole again would Yahweh accept her and once again speak to her? The suspense of this story is intense as Moriyah faces bandits, a blood-thirsty lion, a lust-filled king and a trial before the nation's elders. The characters have depth and reality and their emotions and strengths resonate well with readers. The remarkable descriptive scenes put the reader right in the midst of the story, in the vineyard of the Shiloh countryside sampling the warm, silky grapes ready for harvest or perhaps in a valley dominated by snowcapped mountain magnificence. Cossette's word pictures are wonderful. A Light on the Hill is a captivating glimpse into the everyday life and the festivals and rituals of the nation of Israel. It is a story of fear, of unconditional love and one of mercy, a gift that is not earned--it is given. I received a complimentary copy of the book and a favorable review was not required. The opinions are my own.

[lee · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

really loving the beauty of Connilyn's works. So richly written. Simply beautiful!

[Felicia Armbrister · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Wonderful story of God's great love and mercy. The writing is so vivid that it was like watching a movie.

[Liz quinones · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

None stop action , love suspended and God's protection. Read it here and love it so much I ordered the hard copy ! I love it and it's dear to my heart . ❤

[belusob686 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

She got me hooked, riveted to the pages. Her knowledge of the Old Testament and the ability to relate the stories to the works of Jesus Christ has made writer to be among my highly rated Christian authors.

[vintagebeckie · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A Light on The Hill is the first book in the Cities of Refuge series. While some of the characters were part of Cossette’s Out from Egypt series, it is not necessary to have read those books. Inspired by scripture found in Numbers, Deuteronomy, and Joshua, the novel centers on Moriyah, a young unmarried Jewish woman who hides behind a veil and in the safety of her home after being branded by a Canaanite priest. Moriyah believes she has sheltered herself and her family from judgment and shame. This novel takes Moriyah on a journey of discovery as she seeks to flee danger. While some of her adventures seemed a bit far-fetched, they showed the culture, geography, and customs of Israel and Canaan following Israel’s conquest. I really liked the historical details that Cossette introduced, including the foods! Moriyah grows considerably during her trials and discovers that the only real refuge that can be trusted is within God’s care.The Biblical message is strong, this is a Biblical novel after all. The law of Moses discussed in this book is interesting and pertaining to Moriyah’s circumstances, a bit foreign for a modern reader. But the Old Testament always points to Jesus, and this book’s depiction of the Cities of Refuge — their purpose and meaning — opened up a new understanding of Jesus as our spiritual refuge and his role as High Priest. There’s also romance and suspense that will appeal to the modern reader.I very much enjoyed A Light on The Hill and look forward to discussing it with my book club. By the way, there are excellent discussion questions included.Recommended.Audience: adults.(I purchased this book from Amazon. All opinions expressed are mine alone.)

[kaylynvh · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Excellent historical fiction. I love experiencing the biblical times. Cossette’s writing is wonderful. Although the end was predictable I look forward to the next Book in this series.

[hes7 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I have loved every book Connilyn Cossette has written so far, so it should come as no surprise that A Light on the Hill is one of my favorite books of the year (to this point). It begins the Cities of Refuge series and brings biblical history (specifically, events from the book of Joshua) to life in the exquisitely vivid way I so enjoy. With strong characterizations and a dramatic, romantic story in addition to the great historical detail and setting, A Light on the Hill is a book that delivers a page-turning reading experience with a natural, inspirational exploration of God’s truth. Needless to say, I absolutely loved it, highly recommend this new release to fans of biblical fiction, and look forward to seeing where the series goes next in Shelter of the Most High. Thanks to the author, I received a complimentary copy of A Light on the Hill and the opportunity to provide an honest review. I was not required to write a positive review, and all the opinions I have expressed are my own.

[coverloverbookreview · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

What a beautiful story! A Light on the Hill is book one in the two book Cities of Refuge series, and one of Connilyn Cossette’s best. She is a gifted storyteller and brings a new light to ancient Bible times. I love when a story teaches, inspires, and changes me. This story not only entertains, but showcases God’s grace—in ancient times and now.It is easy to sympathize and empathize with Moriyah. She, like us all, has made mistakes and wonders if it’s possible to overcome or move past them. My heart pounded as I read about Moriyah’s quest to reach one of the cities of refuge. I felt her pain and urged her to have faith that God’s mercy awaited her. We all have it in us to be a light for God.Oh my. I love a story that leaves me changed. There isn’t a book by this author that I didn’t love. A Light on the Hill is a beacon of hope, showing us that though we fail and stumble, there is a path we can follow to find forgiveness and mercy—if we look toward the Light of the world.Ms. Cossette’s writing is superb, easy to read, and keeps me turning pages. There wasn’t a dull moment, no dragging dialogue. If you’ve never read Biblical fiction, this is a great place to start. I can’t wait to read book two of this stunning 2-book series.

[lamb521 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Title: A Light on The Hill (Cities of Refuge #1)Author: Connilyn CossettePages: 336Year: 2018Publisher: BethanyMy rating is 5 out of 5 stars.This story is a heart-throbbing, pulse-pounding and faith-intensive tale. It centers on the book of Joshua when the Israelites were setting up cities of refuge in the land God gave to them. The main purpose of cities of refuge were for people to flee to if they accidently killed someone. It is where they would have to live out their lives until the current high priest died or they themselves died. If they left that city at any time, an avenger was free to take the offender’s life.There are several reasons I loved this book. One, the time was kept by the Hebrew calendar, helping keep readers’ minds in that time. Two, readers will get a flavor for what other nations in the land were doing or how they looked upon the Israelites. Three, the constant tension of never knowing if the main character fleeing to a refuge city was going to arrive before being killed.Moriyah had been branded before the walls of Jericho were brought down, so if people saw the brand they jumped to conclusions. Some of the taunts and ways people treated her, whether real or perceived by her, were so hurtful she placed herself in isolation in her home. She cared for her father and neighbors through her cooking abilities. Her father arranged a marriage, but it wasn’t to the man Moriyah thought, which caused the heart of this reader to wonder if her desire to marry would become a reality.Moriyah built a wall around her heart that even kept her from hearing Yahweh’s voice, so she thought He left her too. Now, she needs men who are willing to help her flee to a city of refuge before the man bent on taking her life captures her. The man helping her to arrive safely is closely related to the man seeking revenge, and somewhere along the way a romance that Moriyah knows can never be begins to grow.What a fantastic story that captures the heart of readers and challenges us all to let the wall of separation between us and Yahweh down and listen for His voice. Can we trust Him to know what is best for us and help us walk through the time even if it isn’t what we thought life would look like as Moriyah learned?I can’t wait until the next book is released as this biblical story, while written fictionally, is beyond exceptional! It helps people to see that He is faithful and truly brings about the best for us and others even when we don’t see the “how”. Don’t wait another minute to enjoy this novel!Disclosure of Material Connection: I received one or more of the products or services mentioned above for free in the hope that I would mention it on my blog. Regardless, I only recommend products or services I use personally and believe will be good for my readers. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255. “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”