"I don't care what you call it, I won't allow a physician to come anywhere near me with needle and thread in hand."
"You giants are all big babies."
Kadar batted the water. "Go bother someone else."
Herod laughed. "The difficult part is behind you."
"What do you mean?"
Herod made a clipping motion with his fingers.
Kadar winced again. "Circumcision?"
Herod sobered. "I thought getting cut might have been holding you back from converting. You are with us in heart and spirit. I can see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice. Your problem is, you haven't admitted it to yourself yet."
Kadar frowned. "I'm a pagan."
Herod shook his head. "Tell yourself that all you want...if it makes you feel better."
"What do you know—"
Herod lunged for the edge of the pool, dragged himself out, and strode off.
"I'm a pagan!" The words echoed uselessly around the empty chamber. Kadar surged through the water and thrashed his way to the opposite wall. His breath heavy in his ears, he plucked the amulet up and ran his thumb over the embossed medallion.
Traitor. A traitor to his gods, to his father, to his people for even thinking about converting.
He studied the amulet.
Water lapped against tile, mocking him. His gods were silent, his father was dead, his people would kill him if he tried to return.
He'd been telling himself, all this time, that everything he was doing was for Lydia's sake. Lydia needed his help. He was fighting beside Herod and Obodas for her benefit. He wanted to restore peace in Jerusalem so she would have a safe homeland.
The truth was, if he dropped dead, Lydia, Herod and Obodas would still have their families, their people, their God. He, on the other hand, would be alone and friendless without them, with no people or God to call his own.
He wrapped his fingers around the hammer-shaped amulet, but the object that had previously been a source of comfort now felt foreign to his hand.
But could he do it? Could he stop calling himself a Northman and start calling himself a Jew?
CHAPTER 34
Jerusalem - One Day Later
James pulled red-headed Niv aside before entering the airy judgment hall. "Are you sure it was Lazarz?"
The multitude arriving to witness Hasmond Mattathias strip John Hycranus of power filed past.
The boy rolled his eyes. "I saw Lazarz when High Priest Hasmond paraded High Priest Hycranus in chains up the street. Who is the true high priest, anyway?"
The spectacle was all everyone in Jerusalem wanted to talk about. "Who cares?" James snapped. "Worry about your neck, if you want to worry about something."
"At least, we spotted One-Eye before he found us," Niv said.
"Lazarz must have joined Hasmond shortly after he poisoned Antipater and vanished from the city."
"You mean after I poisoned Antipater."
"Shhh," James glanced about. "Do you want to lose your head?"
"What does it matter? It's just a matter of time before Lazarz kills me...and you."
"Remind me again why I bothered saving your sorry neck."
"You wanted me to spy for you." Niv's freckle-faced smile faded. "Here comes your father."
James's stomach pitched. "Keep your mouth shut and follow my lead." He stepped into his father's path. "I need to have a word with you."
Simeon Onias blinked his surprise "Here?"
"The matter is urgent. It involves Talitha's death."
"Why are you coming to me instead of Gabriel and Cousin Nehonya?"
"You have influence and connections."
His father smiled with satisfaction. "Ahhh, you have been paying attention to my messages and letters."
James bit back an insult and placed his hand on Niv's shoulder. "This boy saw a man wearing a patch over his eye, and who is named Lazarz, remove the red warning flag from Gabriel's front door. The men who attacked Gabriel said they didn't see a flag."
A strange look entered his father's eyes, then vanished. "Did he?"
Red-haired Niv nodded vigorously. "I will swear an oath if—"
"Save your confession for a trial," James said, jabbing Niv. "I'm concerned for Niv's safety. Lazarz already tried to kill him once." The lie was a small one. Lazarz had actually tried to kill James. But Lazarz probably also planned to send Niv to an early grave.
His father folded his manicured hands. "I'm familiar with this Lazarz fellow. He is Hasmond's new commander."
"He was Malichus's man," James said. "I would watch your back around him."
"Why the sudden interest in my welfare, Son?"
James's hands balled. "It became my business when your so-called allies caused Talitha's death."
"You can stop worrying. I'll deal with Lazarz."
"You'll have him arrested?"
"There's a war going on. People die."
Stunned at the lengths his father was willing to go to reach the heights of power, James covered his ears. "I don't want any part of this."
"James and I threw stones down on Lazarz's head when Hasmond's army invaded," Niv announced proudly.
James winced. "That was different."
His father examined Niv with interest. "As I said, people die all the time in wars."
The appearance of the royal procession put an end to the uncomfortable conversation.
His father tilted his chin toward the high-ceilinged chamber. "Cousin Nehonya and Gabriel saved a seat for you."
James dismissed Niv and hurried to a stone bench at the front of the room, a place of honor reserved for their family thanks to his father's mischief-making. James sat beside Gabriel. The strain of Talitha's death showed in the heavy lines etched on Gabriel's handsome face. Feeling guilty and stained by his father's sins, James's mood became thoroughly morose when his father sat down next him.
King Hasmond wore a triumphant smile as he rode by on his plush sedan chair. Lazarz and other close aides followed on Hasmond's heels.
Lazarz aimed a nasty smile at James.
James slouched in his seat, disgusted with himself and his father.
A rattling sound came from the back of the chamber. James twisted around and saw High Priest Hycranus shuffling down the aisle in shackles.
He gave his father an incredulous look. "Chains?"
"Hasmond is a bit dramatic."
"John Hycranus is the High Priest of Israel."
"This isn't my doing."
Ankles swelled like ripe melons, John Hycranus hobbled to a stop in front of the royal dais.
Hate marring his rat-shaped face, Hasmond stood and pointed. "Behold the wicked viper who killed my father and brother, the ravenous wolf who chased me from my home and country, the vile buzzard who picked the bones of Jerusalem after displacing me from my throne."
The charges were beyond laughable. Rome had executed Hasmond's father and brother after they repeatedly conspired to start wars. Flabby and old, John Hycranus couldn't have looked more harmless or lost. When it came to pillaging, Hasmond and the Parthians made the Romans look like schoolboys.
Hasmond paced the dais. "I'm through with your treachery, Uncle. I hereby strip you of the title of High Priest and banish you to Parthia."
Tears streamed down John Hycranus's fat cheeks. "I'll go willingly. Remove the shackles and I will go quietly to Parthia."
"Willingly?" Hasmond shouted,. Then he jumped from the dais, grabbed a dagger from a startled guardsman, and charged at John Hycranus.
The portly man raised his arms over his head.
"Hold his arms down," Hasmond raged at his personal guard.
James cringed, sure Hasmond was deranged. Shocked exclamations ricocheted around the chamber.
Two guardsmen wrestled Hycranus's arm to his stout sides. Hasmond pinched his uncle's earlobe. James's nightmares played out before his eyes as Hasmond dragged the knife across John Hycranus's head, slicing off the High Priest's entire ear. Hycranus screamed pit
ifully. Blood gushed.
The room spun. The terror James had experienced at the hand of the bandits returned in suffocating force.
A man across the aisle vomited. Dismayed cries echoed through the chamber.
Hasmond gave the knife to a guard. "Take the other ear off."
The grim-faced, guard nodded.
Red blood oozing onto his white tunic, John Hycranus blubbered like a baby.
Men jumped to their feet. Shouts of protest filled the chamber. Armor-clad soldiers spilled through the doorways.
James covered his ears, but couldn't block out the sound of John Hycranus's next high-pitched howl. Soldiers dragged Hycranus out of the chamber.
Hasmond righted his red-splotched tunic, settled back on his throne, and conferred with his aides.
"Take deep breaths," Gabriel said.
"What just happened?" James choked out.
A ghost of the vibrant man he'd been a few short days ago, Gabriel shook his head. "I never thought to witness such evil in Jerusalem. The nations will heap disdain and judgment on our people and our family when they learn of the disgraceful treatment of the Lord's anointed High Priest."
The family would bear the great shame his father had brought down on their heads for generations. All for the sake of his father's selfish desire.
James looked between Hasmond and his father. "You formed an alliance with that vile creature?"
"Send your sour looks elsewhere. I had nothing to do with this."
"But you're pleased. I can see it."
His father shrugged. "Hycranus now belongs to the ranks of the marred. That only leaves Hasmond standing between me and the office of High Priest"
Hostile stares came from all quarters. The scar on James's face pulsed to the heavy thumps of his heart. He wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear, but he kept his chin up and cursed his father under his breath.
CHAPTER 35
Off the Coast of Rhodes - One Month Later
Forced to set sail during the most treacherous time of the year, the small ship carrying Herod's delegation listed perilously to one side. A powerful storm raging around him, Kadar struggled to keep his footing on the heaving deck. A cold slap of sea water mixed with torrential rain hit Kadar in the face, soaking him further. He shifted the sack of grain to his left shoulder, shuffled over the slick planks, grabbed hold of the handrail, and heaved the sack overboard.
He turned around and caught Herod's sleeve, keeping the exhausted man from falling on his backside. Together, they hoisted a barrel of pickled fish up onto the rail and pushed it over the side.
They clung to side of the ship and peered at the strip of land appearing and disappearing behind the waves.
"That's all of it," Herod said breathing heavily. They'd tossed away every item the captain had said was expendable. Conditions had deteriorated to the point where it was necessary to toss overboard everything they could lay their hands on. "Now all we can do is pray the ship holds together until we reach shore."
"I haven't stopped praying." Praying to Lydia and Herod's God. Kadar touched his father's amulet. "Not long ago I would have said the gods were against us, but I don't believe it any longer."
"We will survive," Herod uttered with grim determination. "We must. Who will avenge my father and brother's murders if I don't?" Herod turned his onyx eyes on Kadar. "We will live. You will see Lydia again."
Kadar squeezed Herod's shoulder. "I'm ready to follow you to Hades and back if it means keeping Lydia safe."
The boat rushed forward on the wings of a white-capped wave. Kadar and Herod gripped the railing and braced their feet on the deck. A wall of seawater washed over them. Kadar spit, wiped his eyes, and gasped at the sight of the rocky shore looming large. The next wave drove the ship onto a stone-strewn spit of land, knocking them off their feet.
Kadar rolled to a sudden stop against the wooden mast, cracking his head hard. He sat up and rubbed his skull. "I didn't break anything. How about you?"
Herod lay close by, stretched out flat on his back. "I've landed harder after getting thrown from a horse."
Sailors and soldiers swarmed the rail, giddy with relief now the ship was beached.
Kadar stood and gave Herod a hand up. They climbed over the rail and dropped to the beach. The leaden sky continued to send torrents of rain down on their heads.
"Will she float again?" Herod asked the group of sailors inspecting the damaged vessel.
"Our old tub looks finished," one of them yelled above the pounding rush of the sea. "Ships are in short supply. You'll probably have to have one built."
Kadar frowned at Herod. "Do you have the funds for a new boat?"
"No." He laughed and shook the rain from his wooly head. "But I do have friends in Rhodes."
Kadar grinned. "Of course you do."
"Finding a boat builder and supplies for a ship might slow us down."
"Leave it to me," Kadar said.
Herod nodded. "This detour will add months to our journey."
The euphoria of survival quickly faded. Kadar stared out at the sea separating him from Lydia. "I was almost convinced Cleopatra would lend us help. Our time was wasted. We should have left sooner for Rome."
Herod clapped Kadar on the back. "Cleopatra has toyed with better men than us. Get me a ship, and I will get you back to Lydia before she forgets who you are."
"Will Mark Antony be as slippery to deal with as Cleopatra?"
"Antony's a different breed. He either loves you, or hates you, but at least you know where you stand. The problem will come if we catch him in the middle of a drinking, gambling, whoring streak."
"You're not helping my doubts."
Herod's lips pursed. "Don't worry about Antony. I'm not."
Except Kadar could see Herod wasn't at ease about the matter.
CHAPTER 36
Masada
Lydia stood between Avda and Old John, peering into the depths of the stone cistern. A cool draft rushed over her hot, dry brow. "How much longer will the water last?" she asked. The food stores were plentiful, but the winter rains were late in coming.
"A few weeks at most," Avda said.
Arm missing from just below the elbow, Old John rubbed his healed stump. "I heard the men talking this morning. Joseph wants to take two hundred of his men and try to fight his way through the small army camped at the foot of the Snake Path."
Lydia wasn't overly fond of Joseph, who was much rougher in manner than Herod, but the two brothers were made from the same brave, hard-charging material. "What will Joseph do if he's able to escape?"
Old John's cackle echoed around the cistern. "Half the men think he should go to Petra to ask for help, the other half think they won't be going anywhere because they'll be dead."
Lydia frowned. "I don't understand what you find so amusing."
The old man continued to smile. "The naysayers...the soldiers who say Joseph is undertaking a suicidal mission...most of them volunteered for the expedition themselves."
Lydia swiped away the stray wisps of hair dancing over her face. "Why would they do that?"
Old John drummed his fingers on the rim of the cistern. "They're bored to death. Hate being cooped up. I'd have been first in line to volunteer."
Fond of the grizzled soldier, who had been acting as her protector since recovering from his injury, Lydia cringed. "Truly?"
Old John sobered. "Soldiers would rather die with a sword in their hand than perish from thirst."
"Two hundred fewer men to parse the water out to will buy the rest of us a few more days, at least," Avda said.
Dry-throated for days now, Lydia swallowed, only to feel thirstier than ever. "You are both disgustingly practical." She turned away from the cistern, walked to the low wall edging the plateau, and stared across the vast, empty plain. Why hadn't Kadar returned?
Like guardian angels ready to assist her if she tripped or fell, Avda and Old John took up positions on either side of her.
She twist
ed her hands together. "What's keeping them? They've been gone for over two months." There. She'd said it. Voiced the unease chafing her bones.
Old John patted her back. "Kadar and Herod will come back. Building an army is slow work, that's all, nothing more."
Twelve hours later Lydia woke to the sound of rain pounding on the mud roof. The young women sleeping around her stirred, jumped up, embraced, and laughed.
Lydia rose and gazed upward. Thank you, Lord, for granting our prayers.
Kitra's tinkling giggle filled Lydia's ear. Thin arms wrapped around her. "I'm so happy I think I might burst from joy."
Finding a bit of empathy for the trying girl, Lydia hugged her back. "The jars we placed outside should be full of water."
Kitra gave her a smacking kiss. "Let's go dance in the rain and drink jugs and jugs of water."
Lydia smiled. "Go. Hurry before it stops raining."
Kitra and the other girls squealed with delight and raced outside.
Sheets of water sliced across the open doorway. A refreshing, clean scent swirled through the stale chamber. The small mountain fastness rang with glad shouts.
Lydia stepped outside, lifted her face to the rain. A reprieve. Thank the Lord, they'd received a few months’ reprieve. Drenched to the skin, she shivered, but it wasn't wholly due to the wintery cold. Wherever Kadar is, keep him safe and well, she prayed.
CHAPTER 37
Rome - Two Month Later
After months of delay, spent harassing the shipbuilders to hurry with the construction of the three-tier trireme, the last thing Kadar wanted was to watch a bunch of actors prance about a stage, but Mark Antony had insisted. Arriving in Rome less than an hour earlier, Herod's delegation had gone straight to Antony's home and found him leaving for the Theatre of Pompey.
They plunged back into the bustle of Romans going about their daily business. A string of twenty oxen carts rattled down the street going the opposite direction. Loaded down with oversize wine jars, Kadar grit his teeth against the clinking and clanking of the jars and the mournful bellows of the oxen.
They round a corner and the street grew wider, and the columned facade of the Theatre loomed ahead. Smoke from vendors selling roasted pigeons enveloped them. A troupe of dwarfs jugglers drew laughs and coins in appreciation of their hilarious antics and off-colorful jests.
The Barbarian (The Herod Chronicles Book 2) Page 26
