"I promise to stay far away from Avda," Lydia said employing the respectful tone she used with her father.
Cypros's lips pursed. "You mistake my meaning. You were promised to Physician Hama. I expect you to do your duty and marry him."
A warm flush raced up Lydia's neck. "I appreciate your concern, but the matter is a private one."
Kitra fidgeted next to her.
"You are a member of my household," Cypros said snappishly. "Which means you answer to me." The imperious woman strode off, confident her command had settled the matter.
Lydia blew out a frustrated breath. "Your aunt doesn't care for me. I'm surprised she is pushing for me to marry Avda."
Kitra pointed to the main cistern. "Physician Hama is staring at you with large, sad eyes."
Water jar in hand, Avda frowned.
Lydia tensed. "Physician Hama is not happy with me."
Kitra waved at him. Her translucent stola shimmied over soft curves. "Maybe I should go try to cheer Avda up."
Lydia's shoulders hitched upward. What made the irritating girl think she had a right to call him Avda?
Avda's face reddened and he turned his back to them.
Kitra's tinkling laugh stopped a pair of soldiers in their tracks. She crooked her finger at them and sauntered off. Entranced, the slack-jawed men trotted after her. Lydia half expected to see their tongues hang out.
Lydia massaged her forehead and surveyed the narrow strip of dirt which comprised the tiny fort. Today's lopsided victory proved Masada was safe as a cloud floating high over danger. Regrettably, it was a very small, cramped, crowded cloud. Parthia posed no immediate threat. No, the real trouble awaited her within the hemmed-in confines of the plateau. Unpleasant run-ins with Avda and Kitra and Cypros would be a daily affair.
Avda lowered his pitcher into the round stone cistern, the frayed rope sliding through deft hands capable of tending wounds and mending broken bones.
She hated the uneasiness between them. She wasn’t sure the hurt could be mended, but she had to try. Stomach churning, she crossed to the cistern.
Avda's frown smoothed. "How are you? I'm sorry you've had to suffer Cypros's displeasure. I've asked her to leave you in peace, but she's not the peaceful type."
Avda was apologizing to her? She hugged her arms. "You're not angry with me..." her voice broke, "...I was afraid—"
"Oh, I'm angry." His eyes darkened.
His words stung like pin-pricks. "Forgive—"
"Don't apologize. I'm aggravated with myself, not you."
"But, why? You are the one who was wronged."
He pulled the water jar from the cistern, set the pitcher on the ground, and gave her a sad smile. "You and Kadar love each other. You can't unlearn what your heart knows. And you shouldn't have to apologize for the truth."
Her face heated. "I tried. For a long time I tried to deny my love for Kadar, but it continued to grow deeper and more consuming."
"My real problem is I'm eaten up with regret and longing, watching you with him, remembering the love and closeness I shared with my wife." He stared skyward, put his hands on his hips, and she could tell he had to work at gathering his composure.
His pain became her pain. "Everyone says your wife adored you."
He exhaled heavily. "I want to love again. I thought I didn't. I was afraid to suffer more grief and heartache. I thought an arranged marriage of duty and respect would be enough. But I want to marry someone I love and who will love me back." He shook his head and chuckled. "If my father was alive, he would pull his beard out if he heard me talk such foolishness."
She thought of her father, who regarded marriage contracts as stepping stones to influence and power. "Foolishness takes much worse forms than what you're proposing. And let me give your wise advice back to you. You don't have to apologize for the truth."
He smoothed his neat beard. "My boys miss you. Would you mind…?"
"I miss them too. Bring them along when you come to wait on Cypros, and the boys can keep me company while you listen to poor woman's latest complaints. "
His brown eyes sparkled. "Ha! Poor woman, indeed." He sobered. "How are you getting on? Herod's household isn't for the faint of heart."
Healing the rift with Avda made everything else immaterial. "I have a gift for tolerance and for finding joy where I can. Kitra's tinkling laugh aside." Lydia wrinkled her nose. "Promise me you won't fall for Kitra's rather blatant charms."
He made a face. "I plan to marry a good Jewish girl."
"Thank you for not judging me for pledging myself to a pagan."
Avda frowned. "I told Kadar he needs to convert and be circumcised and marry you properly."
Lydia winced. "What did he say? Never mind. It doesn't matter."
"It does matter. That is, if you hope to live in Judea or Galilee."
She picked up the water jug. "May I help you draw more water?"
"Have you asked Kadar to convert?"
A cool draft swirled up from the well. "The water level is quite low. Are the other reserves this low?"
"Changing the subject won't save you. I'm going to keep at you until you vow you won't marry a pagan. As for the water," the bluster went out of Avda's voice, "the unusually dry rainy season couldn't have come at a worse time. Joseph is concerned. Actually, he is more worried about the water supply than the Parthian army nipping at our heels."
Lydia looked between the cistern and the clear blue sky. "Kadar and Herod hoped to be back within weeks."
Avda returned to looking grim. "In the meantime we will pray for rain."
CHAPTER 30
Pelusium, Egypt - Later the Same Day
The unforgiving sun beat down on Kadar's head. Sweat trickled over his scalp and down his back. Valiant twitched his mane and swished his long tail in an unsuccessful attempt to chase away the relentless cloud of gnats hovering around them. The brown sand walls of Pelusium blended into the drab, flat horizon.
Herod's white stallion stopped alongside Valiant. "Pheroras keeps asking me how long we'll have to wait for Hasmond and the Parthians to release Phasael." Haggard-faced, Herod shifted in his saddle. "I told him these things take time. But Pheroras is understandably anxious to get his son back."
Unsettled and edgy ever since they'd crossed into Egypt, Kadar welcomed the conversation, despite having discussed the matter to death since their pre-dawn departure from Petra. "I think Hasmond will trip over himself trying to appease you if you win Cleopatra's support."
"I hope you're right. But just to be safe, I'm going to ask Her Royal Highness for extra coin for the ransom. Parthia will have emptied Jerusalem's coffers. Hasmond will be desperate for money. Though I relish the idea of the viper crawling on his belly to Parthia, begging for crumbs and dregs, I'd gladly give the snake all my wealth to free Phasael."
Kadar touched his hand to his amulet. He envied the love and loyalty between Herod and his brothers. Kadar had enjoyed the same strong bond with his father. Kadar wanted sons who would stand by each other, no matter the cost.
Obodas rode up on his speckled white horse. He gestured back over his brawny shoulder. "A lone horseman is closing in on us. I think it's that new Samaritan messenger. The unsavory, gapped-toothed fellow."
A shadow crossed Herod's face. He held up his hand, bringing the fifty-man contingent to a halt. An eerie quiet replaced the usual banter. The Samaritan messenger was actually a spy.
Impatient with delays, Kadar rubbed the back of his neck.
The spy's stiff, ungainly posture marked him as a man with little experience riding a horse, but discomfort alone didn't account for the rigid slope of his shoulders and his jerky movements. His tight-lipped expression said he brought bad news.
The color drained from Herod's ruddy cheeks. Reins clasped tight in his hand, he brought his white stallion alongside his brother's slender gelding. Herod and Pheroras dismounted and waited.
Obodas leaned forward. His saddle creaked and groaned under his great weight. "
What deviltry has Hasmond been up to now?"
Kadar felt like he had a pair of oxen sitting on his chest. "If some evil has touched Phasael..." He and Obodas exchanged grim looks.
The spy halted and swung down off his haggard mount.
Obodas spat and straightened. "That poor old girl has been ridden hard. Too hard."
Kadar's fists tightened. "If I had a whip in hand I'd teach the careless fiend a painful lesson."
The spy beat the dust from his tunic. Studying the results, he said, "You directed me to come if I had any news about Phasael."
"I'll rip your wretched limbs from your body if you don't get on with it," Herod ground out.
The spy stood to attention. "The Parthian army handed your brother and High Priest Hycranus over to Hasmond."
Herod cursed. Pheroras bent at the waist like he was about to heave up his guts.
The spy stared straight ahead. "Phasael threw himself off a rooftop while he was being moved and suffered a severe gash to the head."
Herod clasped his wooly head. "Please, God, no!"
Kadar exhaled a heavy breath.
"Noble fool," Obodas said, his voice rough with emotion. "He'd rather kill himself than allow Hasmond to use him to get to Herod."
Herod's arms dropped to his sides. "Is Phasael dead? Did he—"
"He survived the plunge, but died a few days later," the spy answered. "Rumor has it the physician sent to treat Phasael poured poison into the wound. The slave attending your brother said it was a slow, painful death."
Pheroras collapsed to his knees, buried his face in his hands, and wept bitterly.
Vicious intent hardened Herod's eyes. "First my father. Now Phasael." He thrust his chin out. "I'm going to kill Hasmond with my bare hands. He will look upon my pleasure while I choke the life from his scrawny body."
The spy flashed a gap-toothed smile. "Now there's a spectacle I'd pay to see."
Caught up in his own pain, Herod paid no attention to the spy's thoughtless remark. "Do you have any more information about Phasael's..." Herod 's voice thickened. He coughed. "Phasael...did he wake after the fall?"
"I spoke to the slave woman who was with your brother when he died. She told Phasael how you'd escaped from Jerusalem and about your wilderness victory. Joyful at the news, he said to her, I can now die in comfort, since I leave behind one who will avenge me of my enemies." The spy shrugged. "That's all I know."
Eyes wet, Herod helped Pheroras to his feet and led him a short distance away. Surrounded by tall, yellowed tufts of desert grass, Herod and Pheroras put their heads together and consoled one another.
"Stop your gawking," Obodas ordered the other guardsmen. The tough-as-leather man rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes, dismounted, and took an inordinate amount of interest in the items stored in the sacks hanging from his saddle.
Kadar wanted to hurt someone. Phasael was too good a man and soldier to die at the hands of cowards. He plucked off a black bug climbing through Valiant's mane. "Damnable pests," he muttered, crushing the bug with his thumbnail. Tossing the loathsome creature aside, he noticed the spy staring at him. The look of interest on the man's face raised Kadar's hackles. "What's your problem?"
The spy's lips twitched with amusement.
Kadar reached the spy in two strides. "You have something to say, so say it."
The spy's lecherous smile framed the wide gap between his front teeth. "You must be the barbarian. Simeon Onias has offered a large reward for your head." He winked. "A reward large enough to make men drool."
Kadar stuck his finger into the obnoxious man's face. "Collect your fee for the information you delivered, then go. You have a long walk ahead of you."
"Walk?"
"Be grateful I'm not taking a whip to you. You abused your horse...the poor beast might be permanently lamed. I won't let you finish the job."
The spy's eyes turned dangerous. "It’s a horse, you dim-witted barbarian. You talk like the bag of bones is the Lord Almighty come down from heaven."
Kadar slugged the spy, and took satisfaction at the sound of bone crunching.
Blood spurted from the man's nose. "You're a dead man. Do you hear me?"
Guardsmen swarmed around, sending Kadar’s mind back to the copper mine and the battles to the death. He beckoned the spy forward. "Let's finish it. You and me, barehanded."
Panic flashed through widened eyes. The spy backpedaled. "Stay away from me."
Rollicking laughter filled the air.
"You will pay for this," the spy threatened.
Kadar reached for his sword.
A thick hand clasped his wrist. "Let the coward go," Obodas said.
The commander's reasonable tone doused the white heat licking Kadar's blood. Uncurling his fingers from his sword, he exhaled heavily. Self-conscious, he resorted to banter. "Spies are lower than maggots."
Obodas slapped him on the back. "Maggots have their uses."
The spy stalked off toward Pelusium. The guardsmen dispersed.
The grit-laced wind scoured Kadar's skin. A sulfurous smell filled his nostrils. The desert sun sucked at his bones. Though they'd barely set foot in Egypt, they couldn't leave soon enough to please him.
CHAPTER 31
Alexandria Egypt - Two Days Later
The queen's royal confines glittered and gleamed with gold. The dimly-lit room looked more like a bedchamber than a banquet hall. Herod sat tight-lipped next to Kadar. Obodas couldn't stop ogling the Queen Cleopatra, whose sheer gown left nothing to the imagination. Herod's guardsmen indulged in the plentiful food, wine, and slave girls for the taking.
A small delegation of merchants from Athens, hoping to seal a trade agreement with the Queen, were fawning over her like dogs licking their master's feet. The regal woman appeared wholly unimpressed.
Kadar drummed his fingers against the yellow-striped reclining couch. Her Royal Highness could be naked or gold-plated for all he cared. A harem's worth of women wouldn't sway or distract him. An army and weapons, those were his priorities.
A tall slave with the blackest skin Kadar had ever seen approached their low marble table. "The Queen will hear your petition next."
Herod sat up, swallowed down the remains of his wine, and pointed at Kadar and Obodas. "You two better come too, you can stop me from tearing my hair out if her Royal Highness tries any of her tricks."
Obodas tossed aside a half-eaten roasted pigeon. "She is a wily one, but you are as skilled a manipulator as they come."
Herod shot him a dirty look. "You meant it as a compliment, I suppose?"
The thick-necked man laughed. "Or you could blind her with your dazzling smile. One white-toothed grin and you will have her eating out of your hand."
Herod rose to his feet and tightened his belt. "I'd rather kiss a crocodile."
Kadar glanced at the slight woman reputed to be able to make grown men quake. "Is she that much the man-eater?"
"She beguiled Julius Caesar and Mark Antony," Herod said with a note of grudging admiration. "And all the while she's managed to keep Rome from plundering her riches and commandeering her armies."
Kadar stood and stretched his cramped limbs. "Her hawk-like nose is too big for her face. I was expecting a real beauty."
Obodas jabbed Kadar in the ribs. "Queen Cleopatra appears to like what she sees of you."
Kadar whipped his head around, and found eyes full of worldly knowledge and seductive secrets roaming over him, eyes that ought to belong to a much older woman. His mouth went dry. Cleopatra's amused gaze slid back to the Athenians.
Obodas slapped Kadar's back. "I say we give our oversized barbarian friend to Her Royal Highness as her next plaything."
Lydia was the only woman Kadar wanted. But saying no to a queen, especially this Queen, would prove awkward, and maybe dangerous. Resisting the urge to flee, Kadar scrubbed his hand over his face. "I'll kill you both if you throw me to the slaughter."
Herod sobered. "I wouldn't force you, but you and I both kn
ow I'll do what I must to secure an army."
Kadar ground his teeth and followed the tall, black-skinned slave to Cleopatra's luxurious, bed-sized couch. Surrounded by amethyst pillows atop a violet-blue cover, the Queen's slinky diamond gown shimmered mesmerizingly. Reclining on her back, with her head pillowed on a drawn-up arm, and one knee bent, she smiled up at them with lips painted siren red.
"Herod of Idumea..." her hushed voice was as sultry as her black eyes "...Parthia has treated you infamously."
Herod bowed his wooly head. "It gladdens me to have your sympathies."
Cleopatra ran her tongue over the edge of her teeth. "What would you have me do for you, Herod of Idumea?"
Obodas crossed his arms and shifted in place. Kadar's gut tightened. Cleopatra exuded a white-hot sexuality a blind man would find impossible to ignore.
Herod cleared his throat. "Seven years ago my father and I came to your aid. We helped you overthrow your brother and take the throne you now sit upon. I have come to ask you to return the favor."
"I would dearly love to assist you, my old friend," Cleopatra purred. "However..."
Cleopatra sat up and slid her legs over the side of the couch, sending her shimmery diamond gown gliding over her lithe body.
Kadar, Herod and Obodas backed up.
The Queen's black eyes sparkled knowingly, pleased by evidence of her power over them. "…I fear if I send my armies to Jerusalem, King Malichus will take advantage of the situation and invade Egypt."
"Malichus wouldn't dare invade Egypt," Herod said. "He well knows Rome would crush Nabatea like a bug if he tried."
"True..." The Queen held out her dainty hand. "I am able to lend you funds to raise an army. Would that do?"
Herod took her hand and helped her to her feet. "That will do nicely."
Red lips curved in a silky smile. "Wonderful! But, I do have one small stipulation."
Herod remained patient and attentive. "Of course. Name your price."
Kadar wanted to wring the Queen's pretty neck.
Cleopatra ran her gold-flecked nail over her full red lips. "We should discuss the terms in private."
The Barbarian (The Herod Chronicles Book 2) Page 24
