She pulled her cloak from the hook on the wall, wrapping it snugly around her. Democritus was frowning at her.
“I don’t think the master would approve.”
Samah smiled at his obvious distress. “I will be fine.” She hastily exited the villa before he could change his mind about letting her go. Slipping through the dark streets, she made her way to a familiar dwelling. Though most houses around were already dark, this one spilled light from its small windows. She knocked on the door and waited.
The door opened a crack, and then when she was recognized, much wider. Jonah smiled at her.
“Welcome, little sister. We didn’t think you were going to make it tonight.”
Samah took his outstretched hand. “I didn’t think so, either. My master has been injured, and I needed your prayers on his behalf.”
Instantly concerned, he pulled her into the room. “Come in. We’ll tell the others.” He noticed Sentinel sitting in the doorway. Having grown accustomed to the dog’s presence, he motioned with his hand.
“You, too, my friend.”
Samah entered the small apartment, her eyes widening at the roomful of people. There were more men, women, and children than before, and she realized that Jehovah was making use of this small body of believers to reap in the harvest of those looking for a savior. Almost all were Gentiles.
Some were ragged, others wore the purple-trimmed robes of the aristocracy, but one thing they all had in common: They welcomed her with smiling faces. She felt the tension slide from her body. Being with other believers had been what had helped her to keep her sanity through the past months.
“Samah has something she wants to say,” Jonah told them.
Samah told them what had happened to her on the hill just outside the city limits, only with them, she included mention of her brother.
An older man nodded wisely. “It sounds like sicarii, all right. But what would they want with you?”
“Maybe they believe that since you survived Jerusalem and left with one of Rome’s most noted soldiers, you are a sympathizer, or maybe even a spy.”
Jonah nodded. “Tamar may be right, but what has that to do with her brother, Ramoth?”
“Maybe they’ve killed him, also.”
The words turned Samah’s blood to ice. She shook her head slowly. “That can’t be. I don’t believe that is so.”
Recognizing her anxiety, Jonah held up a hand. “Whatever it is, Samah needs our prayers. Come, let us join together and petition Jehovah on her behalf.”
He led the group in a prayer, their voices lifted high in supplication. When they were finished, Samah felt truly at peace. Surely Jehovah would keep watch on her as He always had. The more things that happened to her, the more she believed that to be so.
A young man named Lysus led them in a favorite song of praise. Though Samah felt like shouting the words, she kept her voice low, as did the others. There were still many in Rome who would like to see the Christian community decimated, so the believers continued to worship in secret.
When it came time to leave, Jonah’s sister Capua stopped Samah at the door. She waited for the others to go before telling Samah, “Jonah and I would like it very much if you could come for supper two nights hence.”
Seeing the affection reflected in Jonah’s eyes, Samah hesitated. She had no desire to hurt Jonah, nor Capua, but if the young man saw in her something he wished to possess for his own, she must not allow him to believe it could be so. Her heart was firmly fixed on another, though she often wished it otherwise.
“I don’t think so,” she answered Capua softly and regretted the hurt that flashed through Jonah’s eyes. He had been kind to her, and she hated to disappoint him. “Since my master is ill, I don’t know if I will be free.”
“You could let us know,” Capua argued.
Samah knew she should just say no and be done with it, but she hadn’t the heart to do it. She nodded. “All right. I’ll let you know.”
“You can tell me when you come to the market tomorrow,” Jonah told her, his eyes shining.
Since it was her regular day to visit the market, she agreed. Looking past them to where Sentinel sat quietly watching her, she commanded, “Come, Sentinel.”
The dog lumbered past her, and she followed him outside. She turned when she reached the street and found Jonah still watching her. Blushing, she gave a brief wave and hurried home.
❧
Democritus found Cassius on his feet early the next morning, long before the sun had risen.
“You should still be abed,” the servant scolded, retrieving a tunic from the chest against the wall.
Cassius poured water from a container into a bowl. Cupping his hands, he splashed the cold water onto his face. With his face buried beneath his rubbing hands, he grinned. Democritus sounded like an old mother hen at times.
“I have something important to do today. It can’t wait.”
Dipping his finger into the tooth powder, Cassius rubbed his teeth clean. He swished some water around in his mouth, then spit into the bowl.
Democritus took the bowl, making a tisking sound. Cassius could see the arguments forming in his eyes but knew he was too well trained to voice them.
He watched the slave empty the bowl into the garden below. Setting the bowl back in its place, he then turned to Cassius.
“If you’re going out, you’ll need your toga.”
Since he was not in uniform, he nodded. “Where’s Samah?”
“In the peristyle. Do you wish me to summon her?”
“No, I’ll find her there.”
When he entered the garden, he found Samah on her knees clearing debris from the flowerbeds. She turned her head, then got quickly to her feet.
“Should you be up, my lord?”
“I’m fine.” Though he felt weak, he wasn’t about to admit it. If the servants in this house had their way, he would be a spoiled baby.
Realizing the depth of their concern, guilt flooded through him. He had considered them as nothing more than slaves for a long time, though he was genuinely fond of them. It had never occurred to him that they might actually have some kind of affection for him.
Cassius watched Samah move across the garden to the fountain. She pulled several dry bougainvillea leaves from the water and added them to the other debris she had collected.
“I have to go out,” he pronounced, and she jerked around to face him.
“But you are not well!”
“I am well enough,” he said firmly. “There is something I need to do, and I must see that it’s done today. I will have to leave in a few days for Palestine.”
Samah could feel him watching her. Did he think that she had anything to do with the sicarii in the woods? Thoughts of the man and his message still left her frightened.
“From now on,” Cassius stated firmly, pointing to his dog lying quietly nearby, “I want you to keep Sentinel with you at all times.”
The dog lifted his head at mention of his name. As though he understood, his eyes fixed steadily on Samah.
“Yes, my lord.”
Laying his toga across an iron railing, he crossed to stand close beside her. When she lifted her eyes to his, Samah was surprised by the emotion lurking there.
“I don’t wish you to call me my lord again,” he stated quietly.
Her mouth parted in surprise. ‘But. . .what shall I call you then?”
“Call me Cassius,” he answered softly, rubbing the back of his hand gently down her cheek.
Her stomach lurched within her. “I cannot.”
Instead of being angry as she had suspected, he smiled.
“Then how about beloved?”
Eyes wide, she stepped hastily out of his way. He followed. Her heart beat erratically when he looked into her eyes. Taking her by the shoulders, he pulled her to him. He studied her face carefully, as though to commit it to memory, and she returned his scrutiny fully.
Though her mind told her to move away from his descen
ding lips, her body wouldn’t heed its message. When his lips finally touched hers, she melted against him. Sliding his hands up her neck, he cupped her face in his warm palms.
When he finally released her, Samah collapsed onto the bench behind her. He stood looking into her eyes, his own carefully guarded.
“We must have a talk,” he muttered raggedly. “When I return from Palestine.”
Turning, he left her sitting there. Sentinel whined, and she turned her unfocused gaze on him. She stared at him a long moment and then suddenly burst into tears.
ELEVEN
Cassius entered the villa clutching a bulging bag. Democritus met him in the hallway, taking his purple-trimmed toga from his arm. The Greek’s eyes studied his master worriedly.
“You are well, master?”
Cassius raised his thumb and forefinger, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was so tired, and his body still felt weak from loss of blood. He lifted his head.
“I am well enough, Democritus. Gather the slaves in the triclinium.”
Sudden fear flashed through Democritus’s eyes, but he hastened to obey.
Dragging his tired limbs, Cassius entered the room and made his way to one of the reclining couches. He dropped heavily to the seat.
One by one the servants entered the room, each registering different degrees of dread. They remained silent until all had assembled.
“Where’s Samah?” Cassius demanded.
“It’s market day, my lord. Samah is fetching the items Cleopas needed for our meals.”
Cassius straightened, his eyes focused intently on his servant. “She has Sentinel with her?”
He nodded. “Yes, my lord.”
Relaxing slightly, Cassius turned to the others. Taking the sack from beside him. He pulled out several rolled-up scrolls. He regarded each servant in turn.
“I have here your letters of manumission. As of today, you are all free men.”
Shocked silence met this announcement.
“Should you wish to remain in my employ, I will be glad to have you, and I will see that you are paid well for your services.”
Uncertain faces turned to one another. Finally, Cassius held out a scroll.
“For you, Democritus. You have attended me well, and I feel as though you are my friend. I regret forcing you to serve as a slave.”
Democritus slowly reached out a hand and took the scroll. His shining eyes met those of his former master.
“My lord, I have been happy to serve you. I hope that I might continue to do so.”
Cassius considered him carefully, then nodded. “I would like that very much.”
When he handed out the scrolls, most happily chose to stay in their present positions. A few, though, hoped to return to their countries to try and find their families. Cassius understood.
Their excited chatter as they exited the room brought a small smile to Cassius’s face. When the room was finally empty, Cassius had one scroll remaining. He pulled it from the sack unhurriedly. The smile slowly slid from his face. Tapping the parchment against his lips, he stared out the open doorway into the peristyle. Anyone who knew him would never have recognized the stark fear radiating from his eyes.
❧
Samah added the peaches to her basket, smiling wanly at Jonah. He noticed her pale face.
“You are not well, Samah?” he asked softly.
She turned away, unable to look into his eyes. “It is nothing, Jonah. I didn’t sleep well last night.”
That was certainly true enough, but definitely not the cause of her distress. Cassius’s kiss in the garden had awakened her to feelings she wasn’t aware she even had. She wasn’t quite certain what to do about the circumstances surrounding her life. Suddenly, things had become decidedly complicated.
“You are worried about the sicarii?”
“That, among other things,” she told him honestly.
There was a commotion in the street, and they turned to watch a group of men arguing hotly. As more people gathered to watch, the crowd thickened around them until Samah was pressed from all sides.
She could hear Sentinel lashing out at those around him, and though people hurriedly moved out of the dog’s way, the crush continued until even the dog was threatened.
“Samah!”
Jonah’s anxious face slowly receded as Samah felt herself pushed ever farther away from the dog and Jonah’s booth. She found herself on the fringes of the crowd, and she pushed people aside while she tried to backtrack to reach Sentinel. In the next instant, a bag was thrown over her head. In all the hubbub, her scream went unheard.
She was tossed across someone’s shoulder, and she could hear the sound of the crowd diminishing. She squirmed ineffectually against her captor, the bag smothering her yells for help.
When they finally stopped moving, she was dropped unceremoniously onto a hard couch. She landed with a thud, the breath temporarily knocked from her body. The bag was lifted from her, and though the room was somewhat dark, she blinked at the sudden shifting from total darkness to semilight.
The burnous-clad sicarii stared down at her, and tingles of apprehension shivered across her body. The deadness of his eyes terrified her.
“What do you want with me?” she asked tremulously, her bottom lip quivering with dread.
“Be silent. I won’t hurt you if you remain silent and be still. But if you don’t. . .”
He left the threat hanging in the air. Samah swallowed hard, and shrank back against the couch. Though she wanted to ask more questions, she didn’t dare. It was obvious the assassin was waiting for someone.
She took the time to study her surroundings. They were in a small abandoned apartment, its dilapidated appearance adding to her apprehension. Although she knew that others probably lived in apartments close by, the sight of the assassin’s gleaming knife kept her from crying out for help.
Hour by hour went slowly by until Samah was about ready to scream with nerves. She wondered what Cassius would think. Would he believe she had run away? Remembering his kiss, her heart sank. Would he think that her reason for fleeing?
The room grew darker as night descended. Still the sicarii refused to light a lamp. His steady gaze never left her, and Samah found herself frozen with fear.
There was a thump at the door, and sliding his knife from its scabbard, the sicarii went to answer it. He waited until there was a second knock of three raps before he slid the bar back and opened the door.
A tall man entered the room, the darkness hiding his features. He wore a short tunic, his face clean-shaven, and his curly, dark hair short against his scalp.
“Is she here?”
Though the words were hissed, there was something familiar about the voice.
The assassin nodded towards the couch. Turning, the man walked quickly towards her, and Samah shrunk back further into the cushions.
“Samah?”
Recognizing the voice, Samah threw herself off the couch and into the man’s arms.
“Ramoth! Ramoth, is it truly you?”
He clutched her so tightly, she thought her ribs would break. “Samah! Oh, Samah! Praise Jehovah!”
He buried his face in her hair, and they both wept un-ashamedly. The sicarii shifted uncomfortably, obviously unused to such emotion.
“You have my money?” he demanded.
Without looking at the man or letting Samah go, Ramoth pulled a bag of coins from his belt. He threw it across the room.
“Here is your payment. Remember, no one is to know.”
Without answering, the sicarii left the room. He melted into the shadows and was gone.
Closing the door behind him, Ramoth carefully lit a lamp. He closed the shutters on the window and turned back to his sister.
“You look well.” There was a question in the statement.
Samah could say the same. Her brother had always been tall and well built, but always before his strong chin had been hidden by his beard. Now she could only marvel at how hands
ome he was. She didn’t know what to say or where to begin.
“I am well.” Her voice was still husky with surprise.
He came and stood before her, his dark eyes studying her thoroughly. There was a reticence to him that had never been there before. He had always been her hero, the one who cared for and protected her. Now, he held back.
“You are a slave of a Roman. How can you be well?”
Recognizing the unspoken words, Samah’s eyes darkened with anger. “He treats me well.”
“How well?”
She stood, glaring into his belligerent brown eyes. “Why don’t you just ask what you want to ask?”
His look fastened on her slave bracelet, his nostrils flaring wide. “All right, I will. Are you the Roman’s concubine?”
Ramoth saw the hurt flash through Samah’s eyes, and his anger deflated. Hers, however, rose to gigantic proportions. As children, he had always been the hotheaded one, and she the calm, controlled one. But when she grew angry, even Ramoth backed off. Now, he recognized the signs by the flashing of her blue-green eyes, and he knew he had made a grave mistake.
Her hand clenched at her side, and Ramoth knew with certainty that she wanted to lay it across his face. He took her by the shoulders to try and calm her.
“I’m sorry,” he grumbled, “but the thought of him touching you. . .”
Recognizing the emotion for what it was, Samah released her breath. Ramoth loved her. Had always loved her. His protection had at times been almost cloying, but she had been grateful for it, nevertheless. When she answered, her voice had softened.
“He has never touched me in such a way.”
Frowning, Ramoth’s narrow-eyed gaze lingered on his sister’s face. The softness in her eyes told him something he had hoped was not so, but her words said something else. Seating himself on the couch, he pulled her down beside him.
“Tell me everything.”
Samah started at the beginning, and proceeded to do as he asked. Periodically he would interrupt her with questions, but she finally came to events of today and ended her story.
“And what of you, Ramoth? How did you come to be associated with a sicarii?”
He shrugged, refusing to meet her look. “I hired him. The sicarii have eyes everywhere. I knew if anyone could find you, it would be one of them.”
Captive Heart (Truly Yours Digital Editions) Page 12
