Morta pressed up against Kadar's back. "The country is at war?"
Kadar squeezed her arm. "Get dressed, woman." He planned to find a safe spot for Morta. Images of how a war would impact or endanger Lydia raced through his mind. Kadar strapped on his sword. "What's being done to stop the Parthians?"
Old John fidgeted. "Hycranus's army is racing to meet them on the plain below Mt. Carmel. We are waiting for word of how they fared. Herod is preparing to ride to Galilee with a small company of men, but the bulk of the guard has been charged with defending Jerusalem. He ordered his household to move to the palace. Commander Obodas sent me to ask you to join us in defending the royal palace."
Kadar peered out the door at the smoldering fires of Gehenna. Jerusalem might soon be reduced to a pile of ashes. The Hasmonean palace would be the last to fall. He reached for his sword belt. "Take Morta to the palace and I'll be there shortly." He planned to rouse Lydia and take her to Hama and James. He assumed the two men were making the move to the palace, or soon would, if he had anything to say about it.
"I want to stay in my own place," Morta said.
Kadar could tell from her cross-armed, stubborn stance she wouldn't be budged. He couldn't say he blamed her. He remembered her mentioning the name of a Temple official who paid her an occasional visit. The palace of the High Priest was the last place a harlot would feel safe.
Kadar sent Old John on ahead, finished dressing, and pressed the last of his coins into Morta's steady hand. "Come find me if you change your mind."
"Save your worry for yourself." Morta said placing the coins in her prized alabaster box, given to her by an elderly whore she had once cared for. "Anna lived through the last three wars. She assured me harlots survive war better than most. Anna said soldiers bent on rape become thoroughly flummoxed when they break down a door and find a naked, willing woman waiting for them."
"I hope you don't plan to demand a fee," he quipped, not the least fooled by the brave front.
Morta shrugged. "The coins will come. Once the dust settles, soldiers will line up at my door. War makes men very lusty." She stretched up on her toes and pecked his cheek. "You love her. I see it in your eyes."
He blinked repeatedly. "I...who—"
Morta laughed. "The coming fight isn't yours, Barbarian. You should spirit your Lydia away."
"And what? Subject her to years of lonely wandering?"
"Where is it written that you have to be alone?" The whore's solemn eyes held a life's worth of disappointment and solitude.
He hugged her. "You never used to be this sharp-tongued, woman."
Morta opened the door and pushed him outside. "You, however, remain as pig-headed as ever."
The acrid stink from the nearby burning trash heap stung his nose. Dawn's early light outlined the dark edges of the low clouds hovering overhead. Thundering Thor, he was going to miss Morta. He turned back to ask her to reconsider coming with him. The door snapped shut with finality.
Head down, he trudged up the rutted road, entered the city, and made his way to the red-tile-roofed homes of the wealthy district. He was debating whether or not to wake Nehonya Onias's entire household with the news of war when the wavering lamplight shining through the home's latticed windows saved him the trouble of deciding.
He knocked on a thick, carved-wood door. A heavily armed guard, backed by a dozen more sword-wielding men, greeted him.
Kadar cursed, and clasped the hilt of his sword. What in the name of Odin had he walked into?
"Find out who's there," an impatient voice directed from an interior room.
Kadar recognized the surly voice. Simeon Onias. The selfish, grasping man had finally turned up.
Nehonya Onias poked his head out the door and grimaced. "The visitor is a very large gentile, carrying a tremendous sword," he reported.
"Does he have name?" Simeon Onias demanded. Kadar didn't have to see the detestable man's face to know it was puckered.
The lead guard hefted his sword and pointed it menacingly at Kadar.
Kadar grinned, earning some nervous twitches from the guards.
"The name's Kadar," he said, wishing he could see Simeon's face. "But you probably remember me as the barbarian you wanted drowned in the Nile."
Nehonya Onias, looking like a lamb amid snarling wolves, retreated inside.
"Rubbish," Simeon Onias countered, but a hint of caution edged his doubt.
"Kadar, go! Run," Lydia shouted, sounding very distressed.
Kadar sobered.
"What's this?" Simeon squawked.
"It's not safe," Lydia warned. "Leave before my father—"
The crack of a loud slap echoed through the house. A muffled cry and frightened shrieks followed. His Northman's blood icing, Kadar batted aside the blade blocking his path, barged past the stunned guards, and stormed into the home's inner sanctum.
Lydia stood in the middle of the richly appointed reception chamber clutching her face. Simeon Onias's arm was poised to strike his daughter a second time. Kadar hurdled one of the cushioned reclining chairs crowding the room and knocked the wicked man's hand aside.
"Leave her alone!" he roared.
Simeon Onias yelped and raised his arms to shield his head.
The guards fell on Kadar, depriving him of the pleasure of giving the Onias a well-deserved beating. Terrified screams and jumbled shouts burst out around him. He threw off two attackers, and pulled at the arm locked around his neck in a choke hold. A hard blow to the gut bent him in half, and a sword hilt smashed against his head. While he was still reeling from the blow, his hands were pulled behind his back. A different hand fisted in his hair and yanked his head up.
Coughing and wheezing, he sought out Lydia.
Tears streamed over the red welt on her cheek. Flanked by Nehonya's daughter, Elizabeth, and the slave Brynhild, Lydia strained against the protective pair's firm hold, trying to get to him. Off in a corner, Nehonya Onias watched over his wife and a handful of household slaves, trembling and clinging together.
"Why didn't you escape while you could?" Lydia sobbed.
"I would never leave you unprotected."
"Daughter, do not speak another word to the godforsaken pagan."
Though in no position to threaten anyone, Kadar was too angry to care. "Hear me, Onias, if you hit your daughter again I will kill you."
The point of a sword dug into his back. "Watch your mouth, heathen," a guard growled.
"You?" Simeon Onias sputtered, eyes jumping between Kadar and the bald eunuch at his side, Goda, the man who had sold Kadar into slavery. The cretin who was owed a painful death at Kadar’s hands.
The eunuch's eyes bulged. "Nobody gets out of those mines alive."
"Why isn't this man dead?" Simeon Onias demanded.
The eunuch's jaw tightened. "Death was too good for the damnable pagan. I sold him into slavery."
Kadar smiled. "I thought you were going to use the coins to buy your freedom."
"Goda," Simeon Onias scolded. "You told me your family raised the money."
Sweat pearled on the eunuch's shiny head. "My brothers sent what they could, which amounted to next to nothing. I'd have died a slave waiting for them to collect enough coins. I did what any man would do."
Simeon Onias didn't look convinced.
The eunuch wrung his hands. "I could have found work anywhere after I became a freedman, but I agreed to be your secretary. And I agreed to convert and be circumcised. If those sacrifices don’t prove my loyalty, what will?"
Circumcision was required of male converts to the Hebrew religion, a stipulation separating the truly dedicated from the merely respectful. Those unwilling to part with their foreskin called themselves God-fearers, worshipping the God of Israel from afar, but with all their manly parts intact.
Kadar usually had nothing but respect for converts, but he'd bet his last denarius the bald eunuch's motives arose from pure greed. "I hope the clipped cretin is stealing you blind," Kadar said. The corrupt
pair deserved each other.
"Shut up!" Goda hollered. The irate man grabbed up a pitcher from a nearby bench, swung with all his force, and cracked Kadar across the head.
Pain exploded behind Kadar's eyes. Frightened and shocked shouts ricocheted around the room. He staggered. The guards cursed and grunted in their struggle to keep him on his feet.
Hate burning bright as a consuming fire in his eyes, the bald man drew the pitcher back again.
"Goda, stop," Simeon Onias commanded.
The eunuch ignored Onias.
Kadar braced for another blow.
Lydia broke free and her willowy body pressed against him. "Don't hurt him," she cried, and raised her arm to block the hit.
"I'll break every bone in your body if you strike her," Kadar hissed.
Squawking like a flock of demented seagulls, Brynhild, Elizabeth, and Nehonya Onias swooped down on Goda and tackled him to the floor. The eunuch cursed and kicked. Nehonya's wife and slaves shrieked and wailed. Derisive remarks spewed from the guards’ mouths. The eunuch stopped to draw breath, and Bryn stuffed a waded rag into his open mouth.
Though it felt like Thor's hammer was pounding inside his head, Kadar grinned. "I'm glad someone finally shut that jackass mouth of yours."
The soldiers hooted even more raucously.
The red-faced eunuch glared back.
"Cease this nonsense," Simeon said pucker-faced, then snapped his fingers at the guards. "Help the fools up."
Suffering another round of insults, the eunuch was hauled to his feet and the rag was ripped from his mouth. The bald man shook his finger in Kadar's face. "You will regret humiliating me."
Lydia hugged Kadar.
He pressed his mouth to her ear. "You are supposed to watch out for your own safety. Remember?" Northmen prized fearlessness in their women, and would boast about having a warrior-like wife, but the opposite was true here. Any defiance from Lydia toward these men would be viewed, at best, as meddling. "I can fend for myself, my valkyrie."
"Daughter!" Simeon Onias said sharply. "You are as bad as your harlot sister, shaming me by throwing yourself at this dog."
Tempted to fight off the guards and strangle the detestable man, Kadar resisted for fear Lydia would get hurt in the scuffle. He straightened and puffed out his chest. "Leave her alone."
Onias's pinched red face held all the attraction of congealed blood. "You’re acting very possessive. Have you dallied with my daughter?"
"Kadar is an honorable man," Lydia shot back.
Her father's eyes narrowed. "Step away from the overgrown barbarian this instant or you'll suffer double punishment."
Kadar felt a tremble pass through Lydia. "Do as he says," he whispered.
Lydia lifted her chin and held fast to him.
He forced his eyes away from Lydia to her mean-spirited father. "Don't harm her, or..."
Simeon Onias paled. "Goda, take my prisoner to the storage room. And don't misplace him this time."
Lydia gasped and turned to Nehonya. "Tell Father to release Kadar."
Clothes and hair righted following his tussle with Goda, Nehonya Onias stepped forward. "The gentile has done nothing wrong. Let him go."
Simeon Onias smoothed his robes. "I will release him, but after I teach him to stop sniffing around my daughter."
Lydia blanched.
"Watch your mouth," Kadar growled.
"Step away from the heathen scum," Simeon said.
Lydia pressed closer to Kadar. "Kadar is ten times a better man than you."
Her father's face turned purple. "You whore."
"Go to Brynhild," Kadar begged.
Lydia kissed his cheek, and then flew into Brynhild's arms.
"See? She is a whore," Simeon said.
Nehonya winced. "And I'd ask you to be more careful with what you say around my wife and daughter."
Simeon cocked a brow. "I'm the soul of discretion. You know it better than anyone, Cousin."
Kadar recognized a threat when he heard one.
So did Nehonya, who paled and turned his attention to Kadar. "What brings you to my house, gentile? Especially at such an early hour."
Nehonya and Simeon could pass for one another from a distance, but Nehonya was a thousand times more likable—a contest he won easily by not making Kadar want to vomit every time he opened his mouth.
Kadar regretted having to lie to Nehonya, but knew he'd do far worse to protect Lydia. "James sent me. He wanted Lydia to join him at the royal palace. A Parthian army has invaded Galilee."
Nehonya staggered back as though he'd been pushed. "An invasion? How much of a threat do they pose?"
The members of Nehonya's household clucked over the news like a clutch of panicked hens.
Fear flicked through Lydia's large brown eyes. "Galilee? Will the fighting reach as far north as Rumah? Is little James in danger?"
"Little James and Alexandra and Nathan are far safer in upper Galilee than they would be in Jerusalem," Kadar assured her.
Simeon Onias made a sound of disgust. "The boy's name is Judas. Don't refer to the bastard using your brother's name."
Lydia flinched.
Like a spider thoughtlessly devouring its young, Onias continued remorselessly, "It will serve your sister and her miserable husband right if the Parthians rob and kill them."
Kadar's fists balled. "Shut your mouth, old man. We both know the Parthian army will push south to Jerusalem." Hearing himself, a suspicion formed. Simeon Onias and his guardsmen hadn't so much as flinched when they heard the news about the Parthians. Inspecting the guards more closely, he saw they were heavily armed. Guards? No, they were probably mercenary soldiers.
"But you know all about the damnable invasion, don't you?" Kadar said. "Did you return to Jerusalem to be on hand to welcome your Parthian friends into the city?"
The obnoxious man shrugged. "There was nothing I or anyone could do to stop Parthia. I have merely taken steps to ensure the Onias family fares well. I have made an alliance with King Orodes."
Lydia groaned. "You mean the marriage contract? Who am I to marry?"
Her father bristled. "Silence! I won't stand for any more of your impertinence."
Kadar intervened. "Answer her."
Nehonya Onias stepped forward. "Lydia has had to wait long enough. Your dealings affect me as well. Tell us what you've done."
"What I've done?" Simeon mocked. "Riches and honor will flow to us, and to our children, and to their children, thanks to my...dealings."
Nehonya sighed. "What alliances have you made? Give us a name. Is it Hasmond Mattathias?"
Kadar gritted his teeth. Hasmond—he should have realized the whiny, rat-faced nephew of High Priest John Hycranus was behind the invasion. With Antipater dead and Rome on the brink of more internal warfare, Hasmond had seen an opportunity and rushed to side with Parthia.
Simeon Onias shook his head and smiled smugly. "Guess again, Cousin."
Kadar 's skin crawled with the sick certainty the husband Onias had chosen for Lydia would prove a great deal more detestable than Hasmond. "Spit it out, old man," Kadar said.
A hideous smile blossomed on Simeon Onias's face. "Lydia will wed King Orodes's son, Crown Prince Pacorus."
"But Orodes and Pacorus are gentiles," Nehonya objected, as though stating the obvious.
"A gentile?" Kadar said, the word hitting with the force of a battering ram, forcing the air from his lungs. Impossible. Jewish fathers didn't give their daughters to heathens.
"You can't do this, Father," Lydia exclaimed.
"I won't let him send you to Parthia," Kadar promised.
Lydia nodded and exhaled a relieved breath.
"Barbarian," Simeon Onias called out sharply.
Kadar forced his eyes back to the insufferable man. "What now?"
"You have to be alive to stop me." Simeon said, pleased with himself.
"You plan to murder me?"
"Father, you can't," Lydia cried.
Nehonya m
oved to Kadar's side. "You will have to kill me first."
Simeon stared at his cousin for a long moment, then made a face. "The Parthians will cut him down soon enough." He turned his nose up at Kadar. "You will deliver a message to my son. Tell him if he reconciles with me, I will make him the master builder of a great kingdom."
Kadar stood taller. "If I learn you have harmed Lydia, I will find you, and tear you from limb to limb, and feed you to a pack of crocodiles."
Simeon swiped his hand at the threat. "Goda! Escort the barbarian outside and release him."
Nehonya joined Goda. The soldiers hustled Kadar toward the exit. He looked over his shoulder and caught a last glimpse of Lydia. Their eyes met in a silent farewell.
Goda threw open the front door. The guards released their hold and the chilled morning air hit Kadar's face. Gray clouds hung over Jerusalem. A horn trumpeted in the distance, a low, insistent sound, warning of danger.
Kadar rolled his stiff shoulders and descended the stairs.
Nehonya followed.
Impressed by the brave stand the man had made on his behalf, Kadar nodded his thanks.
"What do you plan to do?" Nehonya asked.
Doors up and down the street were opening. Men and women stepped outside, faces full of fear and concern. Kadar wanted to take Lydia and go far, far from here. "I'll stay and fight."
Nehonya frowned. "Can you win?"
Kadar gripped the handle of his sword. "If you need me, find Herod. I'll be fighting beside Herod and Phasael." Would Antipater's sons prevail? Unlikely. But Kadar would stand by them.
CHAPTER 21
Elizabeth pushed her breakfast plate away. The finest dishes adorned the table. Fragrant flowers filled the vases. A dozen golden lamps flickered, sending light dancing over the multicolored mosaic tiles decorating the floor and walls. But the food tasted like ashes in her mouth, and Simeon Onias's revolting presence robbed the dining chamber of its luster.
Married to the malicious man for the three most miserable months of her life, Elizabeth had been tempted to hide under her bedcovers when he barged into her home a mere two hours earlier, but she wasn't going to allow him to intimidate her the way he had during their brief, hideous marriage.
The Barbarian (The Herod Chronicles Book 2) Page 16
