by Beth Shriver
He stepped down from the stone and walked amongst the people, his voice rising as he spoke. “Your action now is to rebuild your homes, create a citadel, grow your children, raise your crops, and weld your iron, but above all, hope, dream, love, and praise God for your freedom to do so.”
The people clapped, cheered, and embraced him, shook his hand, and gave him endearing slaps to the back. Enan looked on with his own admiration for his companion and leader. Through their journey together, they had shared much with one another. He felt he knew as much about Stephen as he did his own brothers—maybe more, as a long trip through the desert can bring thoughts to mind that one might never know existed, let alone tell another.
Stephen passed through the crowd, and when he reached Enan, he put a hand to his shoulder to move him along with him. They walked through the fallen archway to the village and down the disheveled streets with the boisterous crowd following.
Enan relished the enthusiasm of the people, and as Tirzah approached, he caught her arm and kissed her cheek. As Enan’s eyes lifted from Tirzah to the road ahead, he noticed Abraham standing ahead of them, resting his hands on the handle of a shovel, its tip to the ground.
Enan went to him as Stephen and the crowds continued ahead. He gave his old friend a one-armed hug while guiding him off the beaten path. “It is so good to see you.”
“I prayed for the day I’d see you again.” Abraham grabbed him and gave him a huge bear hug.
“Oof! I’m glad to see you dear friend, but I need some air.” Enan took a step back to study him. Still the same handsome jolly face. Enan hoped this meant all was well with his family. “Ruth and the children. Are they—”
Abraham cut him off, his eyes dancing. “Yes, they are all very well. They will be glad to know you are safe and home again.”
Enan couldn’t have hoped for a more heart-warming homecoming, with one exception. “Where is our friend Nethan?”
Abraham’s shining, joyful smile straightened. “We must talk.”
They walked to a quiet place away from the crowd. Enan sat on a large limestone that had fallen from the city wall, and Abraham paced as he told Enan of Nethan’s deceit.
****
The village had changed drastically, so Enan could not find Nethan at the hostelry as Abraham had suggested. His instincts told him to mingle amongst the soldiers that were out and about to find where there was gambling or spirits. It didn’t take him long to find what he was searching for.
A group of carousing men laughed, and the sound of the lyre and drums resonated in Enan’s ears. His mood was foul, and he took no joy in the music as he thought of Nethan, a friend as close to him as one of his brothers, betraying him so.
What had gone wrong? When had he wandered into this dark, lonely life of no friends or family, with his only focus being to take Tirzah from Enan? It tore at him, making his throat close and eyes well, but this time not with sadness.
A need for vengeance burned him that could not be smothered until justice was done. War or no, what Nethan’s using Enan’s absence and presumed death as an excuse to pursue Tirzah had done was dishonorable.
Passing by the drunken revelers, Enan bumped shoulders with another soldier. Enan recognized him as one from his village. The soldier shoved Enan back and tried to focus his eyes on him. “You challenge me?” His tongue sounded thick, and he swayed as he tried to speak.
“I have no strife with you.”
Enan turned, undaunted, and resumed his quest, but the man shoved Enan in the back, taunting. “Do not turn your back on me. Finish what you have started.” His harsh voice brought the notice of others. The instruments silenced, and one by one, men gathered around them, creating a small circle.
Enan moved away, not wanting to bother with this menace. “Don’t you know me? I am from Zayin.”
The drunk let out a yell and charged. Enan ducked and swung around, stood, and watched as he landed on a table, slid across it, and fell to the ground.
“Stop this. I do not want to fight you.”
The man groaned as he lay on the dirt floor.
A hand grasped Enan’s shoulder, startling him. He turned to see an old friend. “Dan, it’s good to see you.”
“And you, Enan.” He jerked his head in the young man’s direction. “You have gotten into a fight you did not ask for. Be on your way, and I will take care of him.”
Enan grasped Dan’s arm and thanked him, glad to be away from such a nuisance. As he passed through the small crowd, some cheered him, others brought drinks up in salute, and still others booed the end of a short fight. Enan did not bother with any of it and made his way quickly through, stopping only once to ask the whereabouts of Nethan’s tent.
When he’d found it, he took each step with purpose as he approached. Dust flew as he whipped the tent flap around him and stood eye to eye with Nethan. “Were you expecting me?”
Enan couldn’t keep the contempt from his voice as he stared loathingly at his old friend, now his enemy.
Nethan’s lips curled. “Sooner or later.”
Enan’s eyes narrowed with hurt and anger. How could Nethan be so cold, almost as if he wanted this between them? He saw no sign of regret or remorse; just sheer hatred radiated from his eyes.
Enan shook his head. “How could you do this? Not only to our friendship, but to Tirzah? If you really cared for her, you would not want her to go through the pain you have caused her.”
Nethan took a step forward leaving little space between them. “I have been by her side consoling her, protecting her, and…” Nethan tilted his head as a sneer lifted one side of his lips. “…loving her.”
Nethan stood his ground and waited for the blow, but Enan saw through his strategy to try and provoke him to make the first move. He turned around, fists at his sides, and took a deep breath in and held it, knowing Nethan was lying when he intimated that there had been anything physical between him and Tirza, but still the words stung.
Nethan seized the opportunity and rammed Enan in the back. Letting his momentum take him, Enan rolled and came to his feet. Nethan lunged at him, but Enan ducked again and turned, bringing his heel up into Nethan’s face. Baring his teeth, Enan swung around, waiting for another attack.
Nethan leapt at him. Enan dodged and brought his knee to the side of Nethan’s head with a hard thud. Nethan fell to one knee, shook his head, and stood. Rage spread across his red face and pulsed through the protruding veins in his neck.
He came at Enan again. Enan ducked to one side and circled, blocking Nethan’s blows with his forearm or dodging away. Enan threw three hard jabs to Nethan’s face, driving him back. Enan moved with agility, while Nethan had lost some of his quickness, due to drink.
Enan used it to his advantage and moved away at the last second of Nethan’s charge. Nethan crashed into a chair, shattering it into pieces. He grabbed a large broken piece and lunged at Enan with a broad grin across his sweaty, bloodied face. Nethan laughed contemptuously and taunted him with the sharp splintered block of wood and beckoning Enan to approach.
Enan kicked the dirt floor and spat. “Must you enjoy this?”
Nethan’s salty grin broadened, showing bloodstained teeth. “I have waited for this day. For Enan the great warrior, leader and friend, to lose the most wanted of women and die at my hand.”
Disgusted by such venom, Enan said words he’d only thought he would say to his worst adversary. “Curse you for your evil ways. I know you no longer.”
No sooner had the words left his lips, then Enan grasped the wood and turned its tip toward Nethan, pressing it to his chest. On instinct, Enan aimed for his heart, but then with great frustration, hesitated.
Enan began to lose energy, and Nethan moved the stake back toward Enan.
Before his strength and will left him, Enan used what little he had to drive the stick into Nethan’s left shoulder. Blood poured as Nethan screamed out in pain and turned to his side, holding his shoulder.
Enan stood watch
ing, feeling nothing as he took one step backward, then another.
Nethan looked up at him, scarlet-faced and with scathing eyes. “Coward!”
Enan ground his teeth, hit open the flap, and marched out of Nethan’s life, knowing that if he ever crossed paths with him again, he would kill his erstwhile friend.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The priest stood back and observed as Felicia and Maximus exchanged wheat wafers. All watched and waited as Maximus bent down to kiss her trembling lips. Tears filled her eyes as she glanced up to large marble statues that gazed back at her with lifeless eyes.
Maximus raised their joined hands to signify the union as the people clapped their expected approval. The gathering was small, upon Felicia’s request. Maximus had agreed to this only if the celebration after was large and festive.
Maximus assisted Felicia up into a litter decorated with silk ribbons and red poppies. They were carried through the marketplace to the palace grounds where the gathering was already underway.
Scented oil burned in the gardens among an assortment of freshly-cut flowers, creating a plethora of scents throughout the garden. Braided blue and white ribbons adorned the stone pillars from top to bottom, and a tapestry of the newlyweds hung from the balcony overlooking the gardens. Felicia stood in front of the woven threads of color, mesmerized by the size. Maximus walked up behind her and laid his hand on her back.
“Beautiful, is it not? I have had the weavers hard at work on this for some time now.” He pointed to the very bottom of the tapestry. “I decided to have our names and the day’s date woven in here. What do you think?” He smiled with pride.
Felicia looked from him to the depiction of the two of them—Felicia in her white silk gown, adorned with pearls and diamond crown in her dark, curled hair, Maximus wearing a long tunic and cape drawn together at the shoulder with a golden brooch, just as they were now.
“You have put a lot of thought into this gift.” Her eyes welled again, and cheeks flushed. He knew her emotional state was not that of a euphoric bride, but he had chosen to ignore these bouts of sadness.
“Yes, and some day you will appreciate it.” She kept her eyes on the tapestry as he studied her. “Come, we should join the others and feast together.”
He led her to a long, golden table filled with delicious foods. Goose liver, fish eggs, lamb, and veal were among the delicacies being served. Maximus’s mouth watered as he began to pick through wedges of egg and sliced cheese. He took some fruit and turned to Felicia, who stood next to him with an empty plate. He placed a stem of grapes on her silver plate and plucked one off, lowering it in front of her mouth.
“Try one, my love. They are fresh from the picking.” His slow grin gave the cue to cooperate as he placed the plump red grape in her mouth.
Musicians played on the pan flute, drums, and lyre while guests indulged themselves with the vast amounts of food and honeyed wine. Felicia sat quietly next to Maximus. She ate little and spoke only when someone came to offer their congratulations. Maximus made up for her silence and enthusiastically accepted felicitations from the guests.
As he glanced over at her, his desire for food and drink dissipated as his hunger for her increased. Holding out a hand to her, he stood. “Shall we retire to our bed chambers?”
Felicia’s eyes never met his, but she responded by rising and accepting his hand. He bid their good night to the crowd and cheerfully walked her to his room.
He closed the tall golden doors behind him then walked to the elaborate bed. Sheer curtains hung from ivory pillars, brushing against the red-painted, carved headboard. Maximus guided her to one side, pulled back the covers, and stroked the linens. “These are made of silk from the east. I obtained them especially for you.”
She watched his hand gliding across the sheets and forced a small smile.
Sooner or later she would give in to him, not only with her body as she would this very night, but with her heart as well. In his new confidence, he was able to hold fast to these thoughts and surround Felicia with gifts and his love for her.
“Your bath is this way.” Taking her by the arm, he led her to a side room. A large, oval mirror and bronze table and chair furnished one side. Small glass bottles of perfume and a golden box filled with powder lay next to combs and other hair accessories. A large marble tub filled with warm water waited on the other side of the room.
Oils from the bath filled the air with a flowered scent, and desert rose petals floated atop the water. He gestured to the young girl standing next to them. “Xene will help you with your bath and anything else you need. She is another gift to you.”
The slave stood against the wall, her eyes averted and her arms to her sides. She did not approach until Felicia asked her to.
Felicia examined the young girl with her dark, thick hair cropped to her chin. “Thank you, Maximus.” She turned to him and for the first time that day gave him an honest smile. Finally feeling her approval, he left to ready himself for her.
****
The scent of roses drifted from Felicia’s body as she glided into the bed chamber. Maximus sat up in the bed when she entered and watched her slip off her sheer, white robe.
As she lay on the blue silken sheets, Marcus’s words came back to Maximus. He had mulled this over too many times. He refused to do so again on his wedding night. A flash of smiles between Felicia and Marcus to one another crept into Maximus’s mind. He quickly shut out the image and turned his attention to his bride.
She pulled the sheet up to her chest. Just as he was about to reach for her, she moved her hand from under the sheet. She placed her fingers over her stomach and gently stroked a small bulge, and closed her eyes as her lips curved into a victorious smile.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Enan watched as Isaac, head of the town council, handed Stephen a scroll honoring him as their new leader. Although the battle had not gone in their favor and they had lost their leader, word had come that the Romans had as well.
They’d received news that Claudius’s general had returned and in his attempt to take over, had killed Claudius. Now Claudius’s son was their new leader.
As in any war, each side claimed its religion and land and would hold fast to it until the next eruption and another battle would decide their fate. The people of Zayin and most of the northern part of Palestine had given their support to Josiah, and Stephen would do his best to be worthy to keep that honor. He had already planned to take his army throughout the northern towns, cities, and villages to present himself to them and recruit more men for their army.
The Israelites might always be at odds with the Romans; it may be a way of life until a stronger group could overcome them. They were large in number and well trained, and their entire lives were to serve. The Messianic Jews were small but growing. Stephen was young and ready to grow his army, and the timing was good. The Romans’ new leader, Maximus, was inexperienced and unfamiliar with his power, giving the Christians a chance to regroup and at least be able to defend themselves.
Stephen stood at the ruined amphitheater. The crowd cheered, showing their approval of him. He pleased them with a speech of appreciation and shared his plan of action.
Afterward, Stephen called Enan and General Boaz to join him. Surprised and humbled, Enan quickly stepped up the few steps to the smooth, stone stage. The men embraced one another and said a few words only they could hear, and then Stephen gave his attention back to the crowd.
He put his hand on Enan’s shoulder as he began. “You all know of Enan Asher, son of Joel Asher.” The already rowdy crowd cheered at the mention of his name. Enan stood in a wide stance, hands behind his back, and nodded with a modest smile to his friends and neighbors.
“I have called him to my side to ask him to accept the first command of my army.” Hollers and clapping of acceptance erupted. Stephen lifted his hands, palms up, and the crowd stood and celebrated with him. Stephen and Enan embraced again, each thumping the back of the other.
/>
Enan raised his voice loud enough for Stephen to hear. “Thank you for this honor, my friend. You just had to make if official.”
Stephen pulled back to face him and yelled his response to be heard over the boisterous crowd. “You were too stubborn to accept it any other way.”
They followed the masses, General Boaz, Levi, and other commanders now exiting the amphitheater to find food and drink to celebrate.
“The people never gave you a chance to voice your acceptance. I guess that means you have their full support.” Stephen gave Enan another pat to the shoulder and walked with him.
The people moved slowly as they departed. Enan and Stephen moved even slower as many came up to speak with them and share their excitement about Enan’s new appointment. The mood of the people was a complete turnaround from the day they first returned home. They had been given new hope, and a new leader who had the drive and determination to rebuild what had been lost and strengthen their army.
The excitement mounted as they passed through the arches and into the village. All eyes were on them, especially the eyes of one. Nethan stood with arms folded across his chest as Stephen and Enan passed by him.
****
Tirzah tried to squeeze past the crowd, to no avail, but it did not dampen her excitement. Her smile was broad, and tears welled as she watched Enan and Stephen slowly make their way through the throng of admirers. What an honor for Enan to be asked to serve as commander, and at such a young age. She’d known he would be asked, but not this soon. When they approached, she pushed her way to Enan.
He helped Tirzah to his side and lowered his face to her hair. “I cannot believe it, Tirzah.”
She stared into his brown eyes, lit as they danced with excitement. “I can. God has great things planned for you, Enan.” She smiled as they walked through the village. The celebration went on into the evening with food and drink, music and games. A contest of jugglers lasted long after Tirzah and Enan found their escape. They didn’t wait, even though Enan had placed his bet on the man in the forefront.
