Kadar fixed his eyes on Lydia. "You can count on me. I will stay in Jerusalem for as long as you need me."
Relief coursed through her, even as guilt stabbed at her heart. She gained strength and comfort from Kadar's promise. What did he get? Trouble, nothing but trouble. Why? She mouthed.
He winked at her, making her toes curl in her sandals. Then he turned to Nathan. "Herod could give you more protection than a barbarian turned mercenary soldier."
"Herod washed his hands of me," Nathan said, then exhaled heavily. "Herod will be crushed when he hears about his father. My heart died within me when I heard the news. The last time I saw Antipater, he looked hale and hearty. Is it true, was he poisoned?"
Somber, Kadar nodded. "I'm afraid so."
"Herod will burn with murder once he learns the truth," Nathan said glancing around uneasily.
"Herod might not have the luxury of avenging his father." Kadar patted the giant sword hanging at his side. "He may be too busy fighting for his own survival. You should prepare for another war."
Nathan groaned. "More war. The Lord save us."
Alexandra moved closer to Lydia, and they wrapped their arms around each other. Lydia had been seven years old when the Romans invaded Jerusalem. She didn't have many memories of it, other than her terrible fear.
Face ashen, Nathan led them out of the city. Kadar and Nathan talked of war and alliances and best-case, worst-case circumstances during their descent from Jerusalem to the Kidron Valley and then back up to the Mount of Olives.
Alexandra and Lydia trailed behind.
"I'm worried for Nathan," Alexandra confided. "He was a soldier for a short time when he was young. He fought beside Antipater and the Romans and helped make John Hycranus High Priest. He hates what he and others did back then. More war will be hard on him."
Lydia linked arms with her sister. She remembered Judas the Zealot’s fiery sermons reviling the Roman intrusion. Judas and his followers had despised Nathan for siding with Rome. Yet Nathan and Alexandra had somehow managed to make peace with Judas's family and the rest of their neighbors. More war would jeopardize everything they'd worked for. "Will Nathan take up his sword again?"
"Only if the war comes to our farm," Alexandra said. "I hope all this worry comes to naught, but if war does break out, our farm should be safe. We live in a very remote spot. Nathan and I were going to ask you to come stay at the farm until your personal matters are settled. Now I'm twice as anxious to have you join us there."
Excitement welled within Lydia. If she went to Galilee, she could be with her darling baby. "What about poor James? It could be weeks before he recovers from his fall. I don’t like the idea of abandoning him."
Alexandra sighed. "I might be able to persuade Nathan to allow me to remain in Jerusalem with you."
Nathan's hearing must be keen, because he jerked around and scowled at Alexandra. "Nobody will be staying behind."
Alexandra smiled sweetly. "We can discuss the matter at more length in private."
Nathan looked like he wanted to argue, but he clamped his mouth shut.
Kadar's laugh was one of sympathy. "I agree with Nathan. It will be some time before Jerusalem is a safe place for women and children, or for men. You should all go to Galilee. I will watch over James."
"But what about you?" Lydia asked. "Who will watch over you?"
Kadar thumped his broad chest. "Do I look like I need protecting?"
Lydia chewed on her lip. She understood loneliness and didn't want that for him. He needed someone to care for him. "You should marry. It would be good for you."
"Marry?" he spluttered. "What has that got to do with anything?"
"You need a wife to worry over you. If you won't do it for yourself."
His smile was wicked. "Do you have someone in mind?"
Heat raced up her neck. She almost suggested he return to his homeland to find a wife, but found she hated the idea. "They say Cleopatra is keeping Mark Antony from fighting in Parthia."
Kadar choked. "Cleopatra... I'd rather kiss a crocodile."
Lydia clapped her arms open and closed in imitation of the toothy beast. "I believe Antony's generals would have an easier time prying their amorous commander away from the jaws of a croc than from Cleopatra."
Kadar and Nathan roared with laughter. Alexandra hugged Lydia. "I've missed your company. Come, the children are dancing with impatience to lay eyes on you. And Judith has promised to come by with little James."
Alexandra led Lydia into an olive orchard alive with activity. A host of men, women, children, animals, and tents flashed by in a blur as her mind whirled with the prospect of beholding her sweet boy. Their journey came to end under an ancient, gnarled olive tree sheltering three black tents. A straight-backed woman and an older youth sat by a tidy campfire, watching a pair of small boys drawing pictures in the dirt with sticks.
"Shalom, Rhoda," Nathan called out. "We promised to be back before evening meal, and here we are."
The children dropped their sticks and raced toward them.
Lydia's breath caught. Was one of them her baby?
But the tousled-haired boys ran straight for Nathan. They wrapped their arms and legs around each of Nathan's legs. He patted their small heads. "Have you two monkeys been good for your grandmother?"
"Good, good," they sang together.
Nathan laid his hands on the boys' slim shoulders. "Our sons, Achan and Raziel."
Lydia smiled. "How handsome you are."
Three-year-old Raziel nodded with vigor. Five year old Achan scrunched his nose.
"The babies are napping," Rhoda scolded, rising slowly, eschewing the help of the older youth.
Lydia searched for a name. Timothy, the young man's name was Timothy, and he was Nathan's half-brother.
A young woman emerged from the larger tent, carrying a baby on each hip. "Look who's awake." One of the chubby-cheeked babies smiled and reached out her arms.
Alexandra hurried over and took her. "This is little Anna. How are you, my darling?" she cooed to the child, glancing back at Lydia and Kadar. Baby Anna babbled a merry reply, her little arms and legs waving and kicking.
Alexandra wrapped her arm around the pretty young woman holding the other baby. "Do you remember Mary?"
Lydia frowned. She ought to recognize the girl. The raiders who abducted Lydia had taken Mary captive too. Plus, Lydia had spent two weeks with Nathan's family after she was rescued. Alexandra's letters were full of stories about, Mary, Timothy, and Rhoda. But none of the faces staring at Lydia looked familiar.
The horrible silence stretched on and on. Lydia hated the sympathy showing in their eyes, and knowing they'd witnessed her plunge into despair during that terribly dark time. Everyone believed she'd come to love Judas the Zealot and had been devastated by his death.
Her desolation had been complete, but it hadn’t been because she loved Judas. A delusional man who killed innocent people, Judas had earned his violent death. But he was the father of her child, and by the time of her rescue, Lydia had come to accept him as a husband. And what did it say about her?
Lydia took refuge behind a bright smile. "Mary, blessings to you on the birth of your beautiful babe."
A young, strapping man joined Mary. "This is my husband, Cephas, and our sweet angel, Sameah," Mary said, fairly glowing with happiness. Cephas would be the stonecutter Mary had wed, the one Alexandra heaped praises upon in her letters. Shy as he was handsome, the stonecutter dipped his head in greeting.
"Happy marriage to you both," Lydia said.
Mary and Cephas murmured their thanks. Alexandra beamed with pride and love. Baby Anna reached over and pinched sweet Sameah, who squawked a complaint. Both babies burst into tears.
Everyone's attention turned to quieting the children.
Lydia heaved a sigh of relief, then felt Kadar's warm presence at her back.
"Well done, my valkyrie." His guttural voice tingled down her spine. "Brynhild would be proud of her fierce
kitten."
"Valkyrie," she repeated, tangling the foreign word on her tongue. "What does—" Her throat closed. An old, stooped woman and a boy hurried along the path winding through the olive trees.
Lydia stared hard at the boy. Dark-headed and the size of Alexandra's oldest son, the boy was chattering away to the elderly woman. Lydia's heart leaped. It was her dear baby, her own sweet James.
Alexandra's oldest boy, Achan, shouted, "Judas, Judas, she's here! Come meet your mother."
Lydia flinched. Judas? A distant memory came back, of a letter from Alexandra saying Judith had given baby James a new name—Judas. Lydia had dismissed the notion and begged Alexandra to call her precious baby "James" in their letters. To Lydia he would always be little James.
"I meant to warn you," Alexandra apologized.
The boy turned toward them. He was all large brown eyes. He gave her a lopsided grin, reminding Lydia of her own brother's rare but beautiful smiles.
"Achan," little James said. "I have a new sling." He held up the prized possession. His grandmother took his other hand and directed him to a long, oblong-shaped tent sitting opposite Nathan and Alexandra's campsite. The tent walls were drawn up. Twenty or so individuals milled about under the shade of the canopy.
"Judith," Nathan called, but old woman continued her retreat.
"Wait," Lydia cried out, rushing after Judith.
Bearded, sober-faced men stepped out from the shade of the tent. Judas the Zealot's brothers. They stared at her with fiery, fearsome eyes.
Lydia froze.
Kadar and Nathan, radiating danger and a readiness to commit violence, positioned themselves on either side of Lydia. Though tempted to fight her way to her child, Lydia didn't want little James or Alexandra's children to witness such ugliness. Believing the brothers were cut from the same cloth as Judas, and would turn surly with a woman who wasn't properly humble, she lowered her eyes. "May I visit with my son?"
"My mother has changed her mind," a hard voice replied. "She doesn't want you to meet her grandson. She fears your presence will upset Judas."
Judas? They'd had the gall to name her dear boy after a maddened outlaw? Lydia fisted her hands in her tunic, and barely held back a screech of frustration.
Alexandra stepped forward. "May I speak to Judith?"
"Not today," a gruff voice said. The men turned and departed.
Lydia watched Judas's brothers file back into the oblong tent. She searched for little James, eager for another glimpse of her heart, her sunshine. He was surrounded by a group of boys inspecting his sling. Oblivious to her, he laughed and smiled with the others.
The side walls of the tent thumped to the ground with a finality that echoed through her bones, filling her with a heaviness as grim and black as the curtains cutting her off from her son.
CHAPTER 11
The first hour of Elizabeth's vigil over James Onias's sick bed passed quietly, so she sent Brynhild off to find a bit of food and wine.
At the sound of the door snapping closed, James's eyelids fluttered open and his black eyes met hers.
Elizabeth knelt beside the bed and held her breath, waiting for the inevitable complaint, insult, or rude remark.
The corner of his mouth quirked up. "I've been dreaming of angels, but you aren't an angel, are you?"
She shook her head.
James's eyes drifted closed. "You are the lovely Elizabeth. I must have been close to death's door, or you wouldn't be here, would you?" He lifted his hand to his head. "Keep the fragile state of my health in mind before you reply."
Her lips twitched. "Your sisters asked me to come, and I was happy to help."
"You're not a very good liar." He grimaced and rubbed his head. "Ouch. My thick skull hurts like sin."
She took his hand to keep him from reopening the nasty gash. "Physician Hama left an herbal remedy for the pain. Would you like a sip?"
His fingers wrapped around hers. "You are a strong woman."
She blinked. A compliment? Could the bump to his head have done him some good? She bit back her wry smile. "Physician Hama says you will be back to your old self in no time."
"Good gods, I hope not. I'm an unpleasant jackass most of the time."
She laughed. "I would disagree, except you told me I was a terrible liar."
He smiled wide, then screwed up his face in pain. "Right. Did I mention my head feels like it's about to explode?"
"Let me get the wine and herb drink." She tried to pull her hand free, but he tightened his grip.
"Don't go." Desperation edged his voice.
She patted his hand. "Don't fret. I'll stay as long as you need me."
James opened one eye. "Men don't fret. We exhibit wise concern."
"Sensible men follow their physician's advice."
"Normally, I refuse to cede an argument, but..." he released her hand "...something tells me I won't get any peace until I allow you to pour whatever vile concoction Hama has cooked up down my throat."
She picked up the stone cup and swirled the dark liquid. "It smells horrible."
"I'd be disappointed if it didn't."
She grinned. "Can you sit up?"
He struggled briefly, then collapsed. "No, not even if my life depended on it." He touched his brow. "My head is heavy as an ashlar block."
"Let me help." She tucked her hand under James's head, lifted it a bit, and brought the cup to his mouth. He sipped slowly. She massaged the nape of his neck.
When he had finished drinking, he sighed. "Your touch feels wonderful."
"Rest now," she said.
The tense lines crossing his face smoothed. Soon his breathing turned even and deep. Satisfied he was asleep rather than unconscious, she relaxed and shook her head.
James Onias wasn't always gruff. Who would have guessed? Better yet, he had a humorous side. She continued to massage his neck. Minus his scowl, he was quite handsome. His smooth brown beard distracted from the scar marring his cheek.
What would it have been like to be married to him? Probably horrible. But maybe not. He had been quite young then. Perhaps she could have influenced him, taught him to laugh and smile.
Listen to her! Who was she trying to fool?
Normally sulky and unhappy, James would have insulted her. Irreverent and over-spirited, she would have laughed at him. Perfect ingredients for a truly miserable marriage.
His lips parted and closed again. He had a nice mouth. Gorgeous, actually. What would his kisses be like? Would they be soft and caressing, then turn hard and demanding? Warmth speared through her.
"What in the name of Beelzebub are you doing, Sister?"
She hadn't heard the door open, but she didn't miss it slamming closed. "Gabriel? You shouldn't be here." Her brother was a Temple Officer, which required him to remain ritually clean. Her bleeding made her, and anything she touched, unclean. As a result, she almost never saw Gabriel since he’d been appointed to a minor post requiring his daily presence at the Temple.
"Is everything well at home?" She couldn't imagine what else would bring him into a sick room, especially one in Antipater's home. The defilement she caused would end at sunset, but by coming into a dead man's home Gabriel had condemned himself to an unclean state lasting a full week.
Her brother's frown didn't diminish his regal air. "Why do you have your hand tangled in James Onias's hair?"
She turned and stared at James's black hair, which lay feathered over her ivory-white wrist. How odd, she hadn't given a thought to her uncleanness when James held her hand or when she helped hold his head up. When was the last time that had happened?
"Elizabeth," Gabriel said louder, sounding more frustrated than angry.
She pulled her hand free and cradled her fist, cherishing the warmth. "James needed to drink a healing potion. I was helping him."
Gabriel strode across the room. "It looked more incriminating from my perspective." He brushed his fingers through his leonine mane of hair. "Mother of misery! Do you wa
nt to be further condemned?"
"Condemned?"
"For one, you are in a room alone with a man. And it looked like you were about to kiss James Onias, who happens to be your former stepson. One of those reasons alone would be enough to stir up the gossips."
Her face heated. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to cause you trouble."
Gabriel knelt beside her. "I'm worried for you. You suffer enough as it is."
She glanced at James, then back at Gabriel. "You never cared for James." Maybe it was the age difference. Her brother was five years older.
Gabriel made a face. "James is a coward."
She winced at the uncomfortable truth. "He seemed a bit more likable today."
Her brother gave her a doubtful look. "As fond as I am of Lydia and Alexandra, I'm annoyed with them for asking you to venture out." Gabriel pointed at the open window. "The mob surrounding Antipater's home is growing larger and louder. The streets aren't safe. I plan to escort you home when you're done here."
She patted his hand. "You are a good brother."
Gabriel usually smiled or made a humorous remark when she flattered him, but he grew grimmer. "I also have news to pass onto our cousin. A letter just arrived at the house from Simeon Onias. He has found a husband for Lydia...a man from Parthia. The poor woman will be going to live in yet another distant land."
***
Kadar gritted his teeth as he watched Judas the Zealot's family lower the tent curtains, cutting Lydia off from her son. He couldn’t imagine how she remained on her feet. "May Thor smite them," he growled, pressing closer to Lydia, ready to catch her if necessary. He touched her elbow. "Once you’re steadier, I'll invite myself into Judith's tent and convince the wretched woman to hand over your son."
Lydia shuddered. "Your offer is tempting, but I don't want to do anything to frighten little James." Her large, sad eyes met his. "His name is James. I can't call him the other."
He clasped her arm. "Let's find you a place to sit." He wanted to thrash someone, break some necks, shatter some teeth.
The Barbarian (The Herod Chronicles Book 2) Page 8
