Faithful Daughter of Israel

by Wanda Ann Thomas

  Climbing off the horse, Julian sent Anna to the stream to freshen up.

  The men hobbled the horses and set them free to graze among the tall, lush grasses surrounding the stream.

  Julian crossed the stream and walked over the next hill to have a look around.

  Finding exactly what he had been expecting—nothing—he headed back, lecturing himself with each step. He needed to keep his dealing with Anna professional and to stop allowing his attraction to affect his good sense. His anger over her hostile reaction to the thought of a Gentile husband was pure foolishness.

  Anna was crouched down by the stream, running her hands over the surface of the water. The sun glinted off her silky dark hair. What was she thinking? Was she planning ways to punish him for frightening her?

  Her brown eyes were as turbulent as a churning storm. “If you plan to execute me, I beg you to do it quickly”

  “Kill you? Why in the world would you think that?”

  “I made trouble for you with Zara.”

  “Let me worry about Zara. Do you have any reasons other than the Temple guard’s hostility for your outlandish belief I mean to murder you?”

  “You are a Roman.”

  I am half Jewish, he was tempted to shoot back, for the satisfaction of the shock alone. What other reason could he have?

  “I intend you no harm and I will do all in my power to find you a proper husband. You can believe me or not.”

  She studied him for a long moment, then went back to running her hands over the still water.

  He forged the stream and trudged toward his men. She had to be the most frustrating woman he had ever known.

  Crispus intercepted him halfway. “Can I offer any assistance, Commander?”

  Like the best centurions, Crispus had a knack for being both circumspect and forthright. Though highly curious about Anna’s presence, he would not ask. At the same time, to do his job well he needed all pertinent information. His unstated question—was the Jewess’s frazzled state of mind something he needed to worry about?

  “She will be fine.” Julian hoped he was right.

  “That was an impressive piece of riding there.”

  “What? Not falling off the half-mad beast.”

  Crispus gave a grunt of appreciative laughter. A seasoned soldier, he had probably seen it all. “When you disappeared over that hill, I thought you were done for. I saw enough of your efforts when I crested the hill to be impressed.”

  Though spoken mildly, coming from his second in command, the compliment was gold. The men did not know Julian from Zeus. But they knew Crispus. Julian had been a leader of men long enough to know that a good word from a respected centurion went a long way with the common soldier.

  “Do we have enough daylight left to reach Caesarea?” Julian asked.

  “If we push hard. But it would be difficult for her.”

  “Any suggestions as to where we can spend the night?” Thinking better of it, he added, “In something like moderate comfort?”

  “The town where my wife grew up is close by.” The other man smiled. “We can find hot food and shelter there.”

  The centurion had married a local then? That was interesting. Very interesting.

  Legionnaires marrying local woman usually went a long way towards peace, but not in Judea. Crispus and the rest of the guards making up the garrison at Jerusalem were from nearby Syria, which went against the normal Roman policy of recruiting men native to the countries they conquered. But the Jews, owing to their allegiance to their Sabbath laws, were disqualified from being Roman soldiers, making the use of outsiders necessary.

  “I am surprised your wife’s family would welcome us.”

  “I did not say that,” Crispus replied with good humor.

  Julian glanced at Anna. “We will push on.”

  “Very well, sir. I will let the men know.”

  Anna watched the centurion stride away. “Miriam’s parents were not pleased with their daughter for marrying a Roman soldier.”

  Julian thought of his mother. Why had he only ever considered his father’s shame at marrying poorly and not his mother’s disgrace? She must have disappointed her parents by marrying a Roman. Would Anna dare deny convention for love? Would he?

  “The town where I grew up is nearby,” Anna said as clarification, but then her shoulders sagged. “At least, I think it is.”

  She had told him her deceased family had lived at a distance from Jerusalem. It eased a thought niggling at the back of Julian’s mind—was Anna playing him for a fool?

  He crouched beside her. “Do you still have family there?”

  “I told you I had no family. I have never been back. Do you think I would be out here with you if I had someone else?”

  Though her answer irritated him, he did feel compassion for her plight. “Never? How old were you when you went away?”

  The hands making delicate swirls through the water stilled. “Ten.” Her palms slapped the water, creating a tempest where calm ripples had been. “That was ten years ago.”

  That would make Anna well past the age women married. And it made Simon the dung collector’s failure to do his duty by Anna more egregious.

  She wiped her hands dry with the edge of her cloak. “I am not sure if I want to go back again.”

  He helped her to stand. “I am surprised.”

  “I want to keep what little I have. All my memories from that time are good ones. I would not want to spoil it by hearing someone from my village call me Cursed Anna.”

  “Cursed Anna is better than what they would be calling you if I had not come along last evening.”

  An awkward pause ensued, broken by Anna’s soft sigh. “I assume if I refuse to get back on the horse you will simply tie me hand and foot and throw me over the wretched beast’s back.”

  “Yes, or something close to it.”

  She swept past him. “If I am going to die, I would rather die sitting up than draped over your saddle.” Given the ridiculous nature of the statement, she imbued the words with an amazing amount of dignity.

  Whatever else she was, Anna was not a wilting flower. Her fainting dead away last evening had made a false, first impression. She possessed inner grit.

  He was doing the right thing—finding a husband for Cursed Anna.

  Nine

  Arriving in Caesarea two days ago, Julian had learned Governor Pontius Pilate left his headquarters for a quick trip to Damascus. With nothing to do but wait, he resigned himself to enjoy what little pleasures the smallish coastal town offered.

  The Roman baths were clean and adequate and the food and wine tolerable. The theater was a welcome distraction after months and months of dismal entertainment.

  Tonight held promise. Herod Antipas, the figurehead king of Judea, hearing the commander of Fortress Antonia was in town kicking his heels in useless waiting, had extended an invitation to his palace for a small feast.

  That gave Julian the whole afternoon to show Anna about the city. He would have done so earlier, except the stubborn Jewess had refused to leave her cell of a room.

  Well-placed threats on Julian’s part had finally done the trick. Superb military training had many uses. Sturdy fortress walls or stubborn woman, siege tactics were siege tactics.

  Now to conquer her resistance to his company. “Where would you like to go first?”

  Her chin held high, Anna glided to a stop at the top of the Presidium’s grand stairway. “Back to my room.”

  “To the harbor then.” It was the obvious choice. Caesarea was a jewel of a city.

  They strolled in silence until he could not tolerate it. “The seaward aspects of Caesarea are unparalleled, and that is quite a compliment considering how many grand cities dot the shores of Our Sea.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Our Sea?”

  “You do not believe me?” Did she think he was offering false flattery? To what purpose? Dull little country that Judea was, she ought to be happy he found anything here
to compare with the glorious places he had been privileged to visit. The manmade harbor at Caesarea was a marvel to behold.

  “Julius Caesar rid the sea of pirates, making it safe for trade ships. The sea has been Our Sea ever since.” He did not mention the less dignified part of the story having to do with the young Julius being captured and ransomed by pirates long before he was called Caesar.

  “Oh, I see.”

  But she did not see. Not really. Anna thought Romans proud and arrogant. Finding out they called the body of water known to others as the Great Sea, Our Sea, seemed to prove her point.

  Because the Roman army had conquered every nation from here to Britannia, they had the right to call the sea anything they wanted. But he did not say so to his testy companion.

  Wondering why he had been so insistent about showing Anna the city, he received a quick and powerful reminder of the reason he craved her company when she stepped from the shadows of the harbor pilots’ building onto the light-filled dock.

  A look of wonder filled her lovely face. “I did not know anything could be so beautiful.”

  His thoughts exactly. Except his eyes were not fixed on the crystal blue sea but on Anna.

  “Look, the great fish and Jonah.”

  Aware of the Jewish tale of a man swallowed by a whale, Julian examined the harbor expecting to see a boat towing a dead carcass.

  He found all the usual harbor traffic—small fishing skiffs, one-man tubs, flat barges. Then he spotted the object of Anna’s fancy. A full-rigged trireme, all its sails flying, shooting through the marina’s open mouth. The harbor did indeed have the look of a large fish swallowing water, men, and ship in one gulp.

  He directed Anna to the hired boat waiting dockside and handed her into the relatively clean craft. He climbed aboard. The boat listed. He slid to the middle of the bench, hoisting Anna onto his lap as he went.

  He was busy congratulating himself over his quick reflexes when his pleased smile collided with her serious scowl. “I did not do that on purpose.” He’d tried for an apology, but ended up sounding defensive.

  She tried to scramble away, putting his reflexes to the test again. Before the boat could be upset, he grabbed Anna and ordered her to sit still.

  “I have lived my whole life with the ground under my feet. And I liked it. After this, no more horses, boats, and towers. God gave us the good ground to walk on. And he gave us feet. Anything else is… is…”

  “Unnatural,” Julian supplied helpfully, feeling a bit guilty for not consulting her about the boat ride. More than likely, it would have led to a prolonged argument. At least this way, he got to enjoy Anna sitting on his lap while they quarreled.

  “Evil! It is just plain evil.”

  “Was it evil when your prophet Elijah was taken up in a whirlwind by the fiery horse and chariot?”

  “This is not the same as the fiery horse and chariot, and you know it! And how do you know about Elijah anyway?”

  The boat veered sharply to the left, saving Julian from making a confession he would rather avoid.

  Anna squealed and threw her arms around his neck.

  The oarsmen laughed and rowed harder,

  Julian had not been surprised by the abrupt turn, as the trusty helmsman—undoubtedly angling for a generous tip and likely to get one—had winked conspiratorially right before pushing the tiller hard right.

  “Hush,” Julian coaxed, rubbing Anna’s back. “Riding in a boat is far less an evil than capsizing one. Don’t you think?”

  She regarded him solemnly. “May I sit in the bottom of the boat? I will feel safer.”

  He stroked her slim waist. He hated to say yes.

  Her wide and dewy eyes did not leave his.

  He traced her spine with his thumb.

  She shivered, her tremor vibrating up his arm.

  He was playing with fire. Why was she allowing it? Why did she have to feel perfect to the touch?

  Perdition, what was wrong with him? Where was his usual self-control?

  He released her. “Sit where you will feel most comfortable.”

  Ten

  Anna clambered onto a stack of mats piled in the middle of the boat. She was shocked Julian would touch her so, and equally appalled with herself.

  She was terribly attracted to the Roman devil, though she could not imagine why. Romans indulged in every imaginable type of wickedness. Not that she had an inkling what said wickedness entailed. Suffice it to say, every Jewish girl knew to avoid Romans, and Roman soldiers in particular. Yet a part of her, a larger part than she wanted to admit, had not wanted Julian to stop.

  What did that say about her?

  One more day and the temptation named Julian would be behind her. By this time tomorrow she would have a man to call husband and these last few days would be a faint memory.

  A husband? Could God really be so gracious? The Torah proclaimed the goodness of God, and though she believed it, she had never experienced it to this extent. Many would say a move from holy Jerusalem to heathen Caesarea was anything but a blessing, but she knew it was more than she deserved. With heaven as her witness, she had never been in such need of grace, and yet so undeserving of it.

  Gracious God, please keep me from temptation. One day more. All I need is one more day. After the tour of the harbor, she would return to her room and stay there until Julian handed her over to her husband.

  “Anna,” Julian called.

  Drawing in a deep breath and steeling herself for the sight of him, she looked over her shoulder. “What?”

  The harbor entrance was coming up fast. Panic tightened her throat. “We are going out… out there!”

  “Caesarea is best seen from afar.”

  The same thing could be said for his shy, slanting smile. Perhaps not the best thing, but surely the safest.

  Yes, marriage for her could not come fast enough.

  He sobered. “Oh, no.”

  A trireme running like all the demons of Hell propelled it headed straight at them.

  Her heart sped.

  The burly helmsman and oarsmen cursed the oncoming ship that looked to be four times the size of theirs.

  She braced for impact.

  On the deck of the trireme a neat line of at least a dozen rowers returned the filthy curses and carried out a series of hurried maneuvers, smiling throughout.

  With only inches to spare the crafts shot past one another.

  Water streamed off the row of lifted oars and fell like raindrops around them. Julian let out a whoop of laughter. Anna, amazed to be alive and mostly dry, joined her laughter to his.

  For good measure, it was to be supposed, their helmsman and oarsmen cursed again and directed the skiff in a wide arc until they ran parallel to the shore.

  Anna’s breath caught. An arched aqueduct graced the sandy shoreline like a gleaming string of pearls.

  Julian crouched behind her and spoke into her ear. “Are you happy you left your room?”

  “I’ve never seen the like.”

  The sparkle of the blue-green water, waves of white surf pounding the shore, birds circling, calling, diving, and swooping. The whole was as removed from her life as a dung collector’s servant as God’s heaven was removed from earth.

  “Just wait.” Julian signaled the helmsman, and the craft turned into another swooping curve.

  She leaned back into him. A mistake. His warm breath tickled her ear, sending a shiver through her. “We should turn back.”

  “And miss more of the beautiful sights? Believe me, it is worth the trouble.”

  She did not see how that could possibly prove true. But the threat she feared had nothing to do with the sea. “You seem to be well acquainted with trouble. Why is that?”

  “Until you came along, I had a very dull life.”

  She turned, and her cheek bumped into his warm mouth. “That is not true,” she whispered, afraid to move and afraid not to.

  Heated lips brushed her temple. “You know it is true.”
>
  A dangerously delightful tingle went through her. She did know. “We should return to the fortress.”

  “Trust me, Anna.” His voice was rough with emotion. He put a slim but perceptible distance between them. “Come see Caesarea through my eyes.”

  The safety of the fortress was not what she wanted. She desired to be here, with Julian. “Show me then.”

  He sat on the edge of the mats and talked steadily into her ear. It must have been an uncomfortable position for such a large man to maintain, but he sounded relaxed.

  He pointed out the walls forming the harbor. “It used to look like the rest of the shore. Bleak and flat. Herod the Great’s engineers arranged for tons and tons of rocks to be dumped into the water. Workers bound them together with concrete.”

  Duly impressed, she studied the harbor anew.

  Like the arms of a man that did not quite meet around a plump woman, the rock wall jutted away from the shore in a wide circle leaving a seaward facing gap. The opening served as the harbor’s exit and entrance.

  “Was all that work necessary?”

  “See the waves buffeting the walls? They wreak havoc on the hulls of ships. The rocks serve as a breakwater. Besides Alexandria in Egypt, Caesarea is the biggest and safest harbor on Our Sea. I am told the harbor can hold three hundred ships. Judea was already a crossroad on the great caravan routes. All it needed was a good harbor to make it a great trading center.”

  The skiff glided back past the harbor entrance. She craned her neck and studied the two towering statues standing at the end of each wall.

  The elaborate figures were meant to serve as twin guardians over the harbor entrance. It was typical of the Herodians to ignore the Laws of God, in this case the Law forbidding graven images, in favor of impressing Gentiles.

  A flock of squawking seabirds flew overhead. Anna followed their flight until her eyes came to rest on a small but exquisite palace. Like a delicate foot testing the waters, the small palace poked out into the sea.

  Julian’s wrist lighted on her shoulder and his mouth drew close to her ear. “It is lovely, don’t you think?”