“Does this happen often?” she asked.
“Now and then. Most of the men who fought for Hasmond have either left the country or are in hiding.” Misery marred his face.
Her brow furrowed. “I think the reason you don’t own a sword is because you had your fill of violence and killing. And now my family’s troubles will put a sword back into your hands.”
Nathan tapped his chest. “I am to blame. Not you.”
Her stomach knotted. Nathan had wounds deeper than the ones scarring his body. It wasn’t fair to ask him to pick up the sword again. The image of Lydia’s frightened face arose for the thousandth time. If only there was another way. But there wasn’t. She loved Lydia too much to release Nathan from his promise.
***
The courts of the Temple pulsed with life and music. It was the first night of Sukkot, when all Israel slept in ramshackle booths to remind the people when they were a nation without land or permanent homes, and when all the men danced with joy before the Lord.
Alexandra sat with thousands of other women in the temporary gallery erected especially for the Water Drawing Festival. The Men’s Court held a smaller set of benches set aside for white-bearded men too feeble to join in the dancing.
The courtyard was bright as day thanks to four golden lamps holding more than a hundred oil-soaked logs. They were set high on pedestals accessible only by ladders, and priests climbed up and down from the fiery lamps, throwing armload after armload of clothes onto the red-hot embers, disposing of last year’s priestly garments.
Alexandra kept a firm grip on the wooden bench. The abrupt change of direction in her life was dizzying. Betrothed this morning, tonight she’d entered the Women’s Court alone and found herself the center of untoward curiosity. Nathan’s stepmother and sister, as well as numerous aunts and cousins, had rushed forward and taken her into their fold. By marrying Nathan, she wasn’t just getting a husband, she was also gaining a loving, boisterous family. And Nathan got Father and James. A poor trade indeed.
Mary leaned close and pointed. “There’s Nathan. Do you see him, next to Herod?
Alexandra’s pulse beat faster.
Mary wrinkled her nose. “Herod ought to take a seat among the graybeards. He has absolutely no talent for dancing. Our Nathan, though...” Love and pride filled her voice. “He was born to dance for the Lord.”
Handsome at rest, Nathan looked utterly breathtaking as he jumped, spun and clapped in time to the lively music. He picked up a torch and tossed it high. Herod caught it without missing a beat. Another torch flew upward and another. Herod plucked them out of the air as nimbly as the first. A loud cheer went up. More flaming brands filled the sky. Herod juggled seven, then eight torches. His fellow soldiers roared their approval. And why not? Confident, bold, and able, Herod was a natural leader. Nathan had the same qualities. It was easy to see why they’d become friends.
“Oh,” Mary cried, “Father is going to join the dancing.”
Alexandra winced watching Joseph of Rumah’s halting progress. Nathan spotted his father and ran to help. Greeting his father with a hug, Nathan led the old man by the arm into the middle of a circle formed by friends, probably their neighbors. Helped along by the men’s hoots and howls of approval, Joseph of Rumah soon spun round and round. Though no whirling dervish, the old man acquitted himself quite well. At least until he lost his balance. Nathan caught his father, kissed him on both cheeks, and set him on his feet. Joseph of Rumah patted his son’s face.
Alexandra smiled through her sadness. She wished her father and James loved each other half as much as Nathan and Joseph did.
The night passed too quickly. A blast from a trumpet signaled it was time to take up the lulab and the dancing came to an end. All the men moved to the piles of boughs placed about the Men’s Court and picked up tied bundles of myrtle, willow, palm, and citron branches. They raised the boughs high and waved them back and forth.
Alexandra reached under the wooden bench and wrapped her fingers around a leafy bough. The women stood as one. Like a peacock spreading its feathers, they lifted the long fronds of lulab high overhead and moved them side to side. The smell of lemon saturated the air.
All eyes turned east. The orange ball of the rising sun filled the sky and cast a warm yellow glow over the Levites lining the Temple steps, singing the words of a psalm. “Someday the Holy One, blessed be He, will give a dance for the righteous and He will save us. This is the Lord, we have waited for Him and He will sit among them in the Garden of Eden, and each one will point His finger at him, saying ‘Lo, this is our God, we have waited for Him’.”
Though it was probably blasphemous, Alexandra’s eyes went to her betrothed. A man sent from the Lord. Nathan would rescue Lydia. She doubted there was any man in Judea or Galilee better suited to the task. She believed it with all her heart. The marriage though...She hadn’t made peace with it. Yes, Nathan was handsome and kind, but they came from different worlds. They’d never suit. She sighed. There’d be time enough to worry about it after Lydia was safe. Spring was a long way off. Anything could happen between then and now.
The singing ended and the crowd shuffled to the exits. Nathan waited for them outside the Women’s Court, standing with her father and James amid a crush of people.
Nathan spotted her and smiled. James yawned and waved. “Nathan wanted you to spend the day at his campsite,” her brother announced when Alexandra, Mary, and Rhoda stepped out of the Women’s Court. “Father said no.”
Her father’s face became more pinched. “The impatient fool can come to you, if he is that anxious to see you.”
Alexandra’s face heated. She gave Nathan an apologetic look.
He smiled and winked. “Will you be free to see me this afternoon?”
Warmth rushed through her. She bit her lip and nodded.
Someone in the jostling crowd bumped into her father. He grunted and fell forward.
“Watch where you’re going,” James said.
Alexandra caught her father as he fell. They toppled to the ground. Father’s weight pinned her in place.
Nathan landed on his knees beside her and dragged her free. Father writhed like a worm beside her. A knife was sticking out his back. A red circle bloomed on his costly white cloak.
A large roaring filled her ears. James screeched and screeched like he had the day of the attacks. Her vision blurred. A large, steady hand squeezed her arm. “Your father will be fine. I promise.” Nathan’s voice soothed. “It’s a small knife. The wound is superficial. A few stitches and your father will be his usual unpleasant self.”
She choked on a laugh and dabbed at her damp eyes.
Mary knelt beside her, concern writ on her young face. “May I help?”
Alexandra pushed a loose strand of hair back under her scarf. “I’m fine, dear. Go talk to James.” Rolled up like a ball on the ground, her brother continued to wail. Rhoda was patting his back. Alexandra’s heart ached for him. “Tell James Father is only injured.”
Alexandra turned back in time to see Nathan pull the wicked knife free. Bile rose in her throat. She swallowed. Someone gave Nathan a robe. He pressed the white garment to the wound and looked up at her.
“What? why?” she asked.
Nathan eyes clouded. “Someone wanted to send a message to your father.”
She blinked. “I don’t understand.”
“Your father angered the wrong person or people. The knife is a warning.”
“Help me up,” Father demanded.
Nathan removed the bloodstained robe. The bleeding had slowed to a trickle. “What’s the name of your physician?” Nathan asked.
“Mathew the Younger,” Alexandra said.
Nathan turned the man who had handed him the robe. “Pinhas, go find Matthew. Tell him to meet us at Simeon Onias’s home.” The man took off at a run.
Nathan helped her father sit up.
“Can I do something?” Alexandra asked.
Nathan’s steady
eyes met hers. “Prepare for the wedding. We will marry at the end of the week.”
Her face heated. She raised her hand to her throat. “But you said we would wait until spring.”
Her betrothed winced. “It can’t be helped. Your father has been attacked twice. I won’t wait for a third.” His lips firmed. “I can’t trust him to keep you safe.”
Holy angels in heaven, he was in earnest. A few days hence, they’d be man and wife.
CHAPTER 9
The high priest’s palace was perched on a hill in the Upper City, presiding over the homes of Jerusalem’s wealthiest families. John Hycranus’ home was actually a compound comprised of private residences, offices, rituals baths, gardens, servant’s quarters, guard barracks, and a prison. Nathan nodded to the palace guards and walked under a tall gateway.
He slowed and let out a low whistle. Their high priest lived well.
A servant approached, walking with a noticeable limp. The man’s red hair was fading to white. “The banquet honoring Antipater is being held in the reception hall. Shall I show you the way?”
Nathan laughed. “Indeed. It’s my first visit to the palace, but you could probably tell by the way my mouth is hanging open.”
The servant held out his hand, inviting Nathan to follow him across the stone-paved courtyard. “How did you manage an invitation?”
“I’m a friend of Herod’s. I’m here to ask a favor from his father.” He was almost certain Antipater would give him men to help in the search for Lydia Onias. Nathan also planned to share his neighbors’ grievances with Antipater, in hopes of quelling the worst of the unrest in Galilee.
The servant snorted. “You’ve come at a good time. Antipater is spreading coins as generously as a farmer sowing seed.”
“Antipater always was fond of using bribes to make friends,” Nathan said looking forward to seeing the gregarious man again.
“He’s a clever one.” The slave shook his head. “The money he is giving out isn’t even his. It comes from the Temple treasury.”
Nathan ground his teeth. “Does High Priest Hycranus know about it?”
The servant snickered. “Probably not. Hycranus follows Antipater as blindly as a lamb trailing a shepherd.”
The servant led him under a domed archway leading to a spacious inner courtyard. Raised beds of roses cascaded toward a marble-carved fountain. The sweet smell of the pink, orange, and red blooms mixed with the fruity fragrance of the citron trees lining the walls of the garden. White turtledoves cooed contentedly among green boughs dotted with yellow fruit.
“Queen Salome loved roses,” the servant explained.
“Were you here during her reign?” Nathan asked. He’d been a boy when Salome died.
The slave’s reddish head bobbed up and down. “Those were good years.” His voice was wistful. “The last twenty years have been a trial. Her worthless son and nephew aren’t fit to carry the queen’s chamber pot.”
The two men being the current high priest, John Hycranus, and his nephew, Hasmond.
“They’ve certainly made a mess of things,” Nathan agreed.
Several wars had been fought to determine which man would sit as high priest. Hasmond had ousted his uncle and ruled in his place for a short while. Nathan had fought in the last battle ten years ago, when Hycranus regained the coveted office of high priest. He still wasn’t sure of the right or wrong of it. “Do you think Hasmond made a better leader than Hycranus?”
The servant swiped his hand through the air. “Hasmond is a whiny liar. I’ll stick with Hycranus. I know a lot of folks hate having Antipater run things from behind the scenes, but I think the country could do worse.”
Leaving the rose garden behind, the slave led Nathan up a wide marble staircase and down a hallway lined with Corinthian columns. Dozens of embroidered tapestries decorated with religious symbols hung from the walls.
They entered a cavernous banquet hall. The walls and ceiling were painted in muted shades of brown with gold leaf accents and flourishes. An army of servants carried trays piled high with food smelling of roasted meat and rich spices.
The lavish excess of the surroundings left a bad taste in Nathan’s mouth. The Temple tax he and all other Israelites paid every year had paid for all this. He might not have begrudged the high priest his luxurious palace and wealth, but Nathan was friends with several priests who struggled to get by. Meanwhile, Hycranus and a handful of other families grew richer and richer. It was wrong. It was one of reasons his friends and neighbors had taken up arms.
The red-haired servant lifted a bony arm and pointed. “Do you see Antipater? He’s standing beside Hycranus, with a delegation of high and mighty foreigners.”
Engaged in a lively discussion with the visitors, Antipater looked hale and hardy as ever. Hycranus stood off to the side. Bored and indolent, he showed no interest in the conversation.
The servant’s rheumy eyes met Nathan’s. “Do you know what Hycranus said when his nephew ousted him from power?”
This ought to be good.
“I never wanted to be High Priest.” The old man shook his head. “Then Antipater comes along and convinces the fickle man otherwise.”
Herod came roaring toward Nathan. The servant bowed and took his leave.
“Olive farmer.” Herod wrapped Nathan up in a bear hug. “I’ll take you to my father. He’ll thank you for saving him from the Egyptian ambassador. The fellow is first-rate bore.”
Antipater smiled as they approached. He kissed Nathan on both cheeks. “How are you? How’s the family?”
Nathan returned the greeting and stepped back. “My father’s health remains frail,” he said, lest Antipater or Herod think they had a chance of talking him into rejoining the army.
Antipater turned toward High Priest Hycranus. “This is the Galilean farmer I was telling you about.”
“Shalom,” Hycranus said without looking at Nathan. “My feet ache.” The priest shuffled in place. “I need to sit down or my ankles will swell like melons.”
Antipater offered Nathan an apologetic look. “The members of the Sanhedrin are up in arms over the attack on one of their own in Jerusalem.”
Nathan made a sour face. “It’s about time.” The Great Court had mostly ignored the assaults on Roman sympathizers in Galilee.
Antipater nodded toward the seats reserved for the Sanhedrin. “Curiously enough, I’ve heard from all judges, except one. Simeon Onias.” Antipater’s brows rose. “The fractious man is always bleating complaints. Do you have any guess as to why he’s keeping quiet or why he was stabbed?”
Nathan exhaled heavily. “No. I don’t.” His soon to be father-in-law refused to discuss the attack.
High Priest Hycranus blinked to life. “Rome is to blame for the trouble in Galilee. I only wanted the Romans to remove my nephew from power. How was I to know they would stay?” The priest lowered his voice. “Can’t we ask them to leave?”
“No,” Herod said, rolling his eyes. “We’ve told you a thousand times why not. If Rome leaves, Parthia will swoop in behind them. The Parthians will rape and rob the country and leave it in ruin. Rome taxes may be burdensome, but they build roads and aqueducts. It’s in their interest to see us prosper.” Herod turned to Nathan. “Am I lying?”
“I’ve been telling my rebellious neighbors the same thing,” Nathan said. “They don’t want to hear it.”
Antipater leaned in closer. “Once Julius Caesar consolidates his power back home, he plans to march on Parthia, and make Rome the undisputed ruler of the world.”
The high priest sighed, again. “You’re right. Of course, you’re right.” He gave Antipater a sheepish look. “May I go eat now?”
Antipater pursed his lips and nodded curtly.
Hycranus hobbled away.
Nathan shook his head. It was hard to respect the man.
“Good riddance,” Herod growled.
Antipater lifted his hand and signaled to someone. A blond-haired, blue-eyed giant rose from a
nearby table.
Nathan’s eyes widened.
“My new bodyguard, Kadar,” Antipater explained.
Nathan rocked on his heels. “He would have made Goliath look small.”
Herod grunted. “He throws a hard punch.”
“Tested the man already, have you?” Nathan asked.
Herod grinned. “Believe me, I won’t be doing it again anytime soon. I just wish I’d seen him first and made him my man.”
It took a lot to earn Herod’s respect. The comment told Nathan all he needed to know about Kadar.
The giant joined them.
Antipater put a hand on Nathan’s shoulder. “Herod and I have to go accept official thanks from the Egyptian ambassador for saving Cleopatra’s pretty neck. Tell Kadar what you need to hunt down the outlaws and he will see that you get it.”
Antipater and Herod took their leave.
A black-robed Pharisee sitting at the next table lobbed an insult at father and son. “Idumean dogs.” His fellow Pharisees murmured their approval.
Kadar raised a brow. “Idumean? What is this?” The giant’s accent was as heavy as it was guttural, marking him as a recent migrant to the civilized world.
Nathan had never come across an honest-to-goodness barbarian. Indecently pleased, he smiled and called up his rusty but serviceable Greek. “Idumea was a small tribal nation east of Jerusalem. One hundred and twenty years ago the Hasmoeans...” Nathan pointed at High Priest’s table. “...converted the Idumeans to Judaism with the tips of their swords. Many people consider Antipater and Herod to be Jews in name only.”
The giant laughed. “I’d say the Idumeans are the ones with the right to gripe. You Jews forced them to be circumcised, and now you hate them for it? And you call me a barbarian.”
Nathan winced.
Kadar scanned the room. “Antipater told me the Pharisees hate him because they fear he wants to be king, but you Jews don’t have a king.”
“We don’t. And many people like it that way. The rebels I’m trying to hunt down have a motto. No king but the Lord. The power Antipater holds over our high priest makes people nervous.”
The Warrior (The Herod Chronicles Book 1) Page 7
