The Warrior (The Herod Chronicles Book 1)
Page 9
Strong desire marked his features. “I could grow very fond of the unexpected.”
And yes, beautiful was precisely the right word for him.
She slid off his lap, lay back on the plush bedroll, and held her arms out to him.
***
The sound of the ongoing wedding feast penetrated the low buzzing in Alexandra’s ears. She wouldn’t have believed it possible to forget the boisterous crowd just outside the tent, but she had. Wonderfully sore, she cherished the ache. Alexandra crossed her arms over her belly. Nathan’s seed lay deep within her. She was a full woman now, and, if God granted, she would soon be with child.
Nathan stirred. Now here was pure blessing. He wasn’t the husband she’d dreamed of having. It is not a complaint, she hastily explained, lest the heavenly hosts take offense. Generous to a fault, Nathan had been careful with her, bridling his own pulsing need. It was a beginning full of promise, a promise she planned to fully explore.
Nathan propped himself up on an elbow. If not for his careful study of her, she might have undertaken a more thorough study of his equally naked body.
He traced his finger along her temple and down her jaw. “You have lovely skin. So soft and fair. I promise to hire a lady’s servant for you as soon as we arrive home.”
She pulled a blanket over her body and sat up. “No. Please don’t. I don’t want to be treated any differently than Rhoda or Mary.”
He held his hands out. “Show me your hands.” She touched her fingers to his. He turned her hands palm up. “I won’t...” his voice was rough with emotion “...watch your lovely, supple skin grow raw and red from work a servant can easily do.”
She searched for an answer that would satisfy both of them. Although more than a little nervous about how she would fare with farm life, the last thing she wanted was to be treated like visiting royalty. “Please wait a few months, see how matters go. If I turn out to be a hopeless cause or troublesome...”
She would not fail. She’d spent her whole life sitting in her room with nothing important to do. Here was an opportunity to help and be of use, and she wasn’t about to let it slip through her fingers. Please, please, please, don’t make me beg. She would, though, because it was that important.
“I will give you three months.” Nathan held up a staying finger. “A favor merits a favor.”
His tone warned her she wasn’t going to like what he had to say.
“Herod wants me to go to Syria with him.”
She winced. Nathan was supposed to resume the search for Lydia. “Will you go?”
“Herod says he will join the hunt for your sister, if I agree to help him.”
“Help him how?”
“Herod doesn’t scare easily. But Caesar’s summons has him very worried. He wants to be distracted and he thinks my company will help.” Nathan shrugged. “Herod is bullying me into going, but he’s my friend and...”
“And, you want to help him,” she finished for him. “I know my sister’s troubles are not as important to you as Herod, but Lydia is good and loving and...” Alexandra’s lip wobbled. Tears filled her eyes. She pulled the thin blanket up under her chin.
Nathan sat up and lifted her onto his lap. His warm breath filled her ear. “Don’t cry. I haven’t forgotten about your sister. But I need help. Antipater will keep all his men close until the matter with Caesar is settled. If I’m in Syria and all goes well, I’ll stand a good chance of getting men for the search immediately. Especially if Herod speaks to his father on our behalf.”
She dried her eyes on the corner of the blanket. Getting Lydia back was turning out to be more complicated than she’d imagined. “How soon do you have to go?”
Nathan skimmed his fingers along the loose ends of hair falling over her arm. “Too soon for me.”
A shiver went through her. “How long will you be away?”
“Ahhh...about that.” For the first time since they’d met he looked unsure of himself. “I’d like you to come with me. If you find the idea too loathsome, I won’t force you to go.”
She blinked in surprise. “I’ll go.”
Nathan’s brows rose. “Are you sure? We will be spending most of our time with the Idumeans, Antipater and Herod, and mingling with pagans. You might see some shocking things.”
“I’ll risk it to be with you.” Blushing at the bold confession, she ducked her head.
Nathan’s knuckles caressed her jaw. He tilted her chin up. “I’m glad you said yes. I hated the idea of getting home and straightway leaving you behind. I prepared all kinds of arguments to convince you.” Nathan’s voice turned husky. “And I can be quite persuasive when I want something as much as I want you.”
The weight of Nathan’s confession made her insides contract. “What made you think I wouldn’t want to go?”
“Your father is a Pharisee.”
“And?” she asked.
Nathan shrugged. “And Pharisees do not go out among sinners.”
She pulled away from him. He was as nervous about taking her to Galilee as she was about going there. Though they were both Israelites, she and Nathan lived in different worlds. This was his roundabout way of asking if she was as fastidious about observing the Law as her father.
She offered him a reassuring smile. “Pharisees do not go to live in Galilee. And, in case you haven’t noticed, I am not dressed in the Pharisee’s flowing robes or looking for the nearest ritual bath to cleanse myself.”
He hooked his finger on the blanket trapped under her arms. “At the moment you are very un-Pharisee-like.”
A flash of heat went through her. She swallowed. He was trying to make light of it, but she knew he had strong doubts about the marriage. “If I had married Phillip Peter I would have tried hard to adhere to Pharisaical standards. But, I am your wife, and so I must learn to live and move among your people.”
His brown eyes grew serious. “Whether you like it or not?”
She brushed her lips over his and pulled back. “But I will love it. Because you will teach me to love it.” She let go of the blanket.
Nathan’s breath hitched.
She drew his callused hands to her waist. “Take me to my new home and teach me to love everything about it.”
CHAPTER 11
The sky hung like a dingy gray blanket over the Mount of Olives. Fat drops of dew clung to the trees, tents, rocks, and grass. Smoking campfires snapped and hissed. People moved slowly about their campsites, worn and tired from two weeks of festivities.
Nathan led Alexandra up the winding road to Jerusalem. He was taking her to say her final goodbyes to her family, and to collect the promised dowry. He also planned to, once again, raise the topic of Lydia.
He brushed his hand down Alexandra’s arm. “There’s still time to buy a donkey for you to ride.”
She smiled politely. “No, thank you, Nathan. I will walk like everyone else.”
He exhaled heavily. Afraid the week-long, journey north would be too hard on her, he tried a different approach, . “No one will think less of you for it. My father will be riding. He’d enjoy your company.”
She shook her head. Without warning, she veered off the dirt road and knelt down beside a patch of flowers. Picking a purple bloom, she held it to her nose, closed her eyes, and inhaled. Her lips curved upward. Pleasure shone on her face, the same way it did when they made love.
His loins tightened. The first two nights in the marriage bed ought to have satiated his hunger for her, but like a few drops of golden honey, it whetted his appetite for more. He’d gone to her on their wedding night hoping she wouldn’t be frightened or disgusted by him. Her passion and eagerness when he had her in his arms was a delight he hoped to enjoy again and again.
She plucked a handful of flowers and rejoined him. A short while later they entered the city and passed a group of Greek-speaking Jews who stood outside an inn, preparing to go home. Judging from their refined clothes and manners, they most likely came from as far away as Rome.
“Blame Julius Caesar,” he said.
Her brows rose. “Caesar?”
He laughed. “Caesar was responsible for clearing the Great Sea of pirates, making it safe for Jews from all over the world to come to Jerusalem for the feasts.”
She pondered it for a moment. “Do you think you’ll get to meet Caesar while he’s in Syria?”
“I hope so. He is an up-and-coming-man in Rome. His name’s on everybody’s lips, and I want to see what all the fuss is about.”
She smiled but tried to hide it.
Intrigued, he smiled too. “What?”
She waved a dismissive hand. “Never mind.”
“You can’t raise my curiosity and not tell me.”
A red blush rose on her cheeks. “I was thinking about what I want to see in Syria.”
He brushed his arm against hers. “And?”
“I can’t wait to see the pagan statues,” she said in a rush. “To see what all the fuss over idol worship is about.”
He clapped a hand to his forehead. “I forgot about the statues. Half of the figures are naked and some...” Unseemly images flashed through his mind. He slapped his forehead again. “I can’t take you to Syria.”
Alexandra ducked her head and smiled. They both knew he wouldn’t leave her behind.
They walked in silence the rest of the way to Simeon Onias’s home. The bald slave met them at the door and led them down a high-ceilinged, marbled-floor hallway before showing them into an opulent sitting room.
Nathan groaned inwardly at the rich surroundings. What was he doing taking a gently raised woman to live on a remote olive farm, in a two-room mud and rock house? If the walk to Galilee didn’t do Alexandra in, the primitive life awaiting her surely would.
He approached the low, cushioned, reclining couches where his new father-in-law and brother-in-law sat studying a Torah scroll. They remained seated, sparing him the necessity of greeting them with a kiss to the cheek.
Nathan bowed his head. “Father, Brother.” He addressed Simeon, “How are you fairing? Is your wound continuing to heal well?”
The corners of Simeon Onias’s mouth sagged lower. “Stop with the pleasantries. We both know you don’t like me.”
Nathan smiled. “I don’t, but your directness is refreshing. Let me be open in return. What do you want me to do with Lydia, once I find her?”
Simeon’s brows arched. “You are awfully sure of yourself, young pup.”
Nathan struggled to remain respectful. “Do you want me to return Lydia to you?”
“Fine, fine. I may have use for her yet.” The cantankerous man plucked a tattered cloth pouch off his couch and tossed it.
Nathan caught the bag. Coins jangled together. “What’s this?”
“A dowry payment.”
“A payment? I thought—”
“You thought wrong,” Simeon snapped. “The contract didn’t state when or how the dowry was to be paid, leaving it to my discretion. Consider this your first lesson in being a rich man. What’s not said in a contract is as important as what is said.”
Nathan’s fists balled. Though he’d been a bit apprehensive about handling the small fortune, he’d sooner kiss a pig than admit it now. He narrowed his eyes at Simeon. “We will get along fine without your money.”
The pious man smiled. “I’m sure you will. Now take my daughter and go.”
Nathan glanced at Alexandra. His bold boast was true for him and his family—he didn’t want Simeon Onias’s money. But what about his highborn wife? Would she beg him to go groveling to her father for money once she realized just how poor he was?
Calm and lovely as a rose garden at sunset, his wife took a step forward. “James. Father. I will think of you every day.”
Her brother started to rise.
Simeon waved the boy back and scowled up at Alexandra. “You’re keeping James away from his studies. Bid us farewell and go.”
She bowed her head.
Nathan took hold of her limp hand and squeezed her fingers. He wished there was more he could do to comfort her. Tempted to throw the bag of coins fisted in his other hand at her hateful father, he refrained. The gesture was a luxury his family couldn’t afford.
Simeon gave him a smug smile. “Expect to hear from me.”
The statement had an ominous ring. Not bothering with parting words, Nathan turned his back on his father-in-law, tucked Alexandra’s hand into the crook of his elbow, and led her out of the cold house.
***
Nathan walked beside Alexandra, leading a donkey which refused to be rushed. His family had been making the trek between Galilee and Jerusalem with the same families for generations, folks from the villages and farms surrounding his olive farm, about a hundred people in all. They watched out for each other as best they could.
Days of traveling in the rain had left everyone sniffling and coughing. Everyone except Alexandra. And here he had been worried about her. He might have enjoyed a good laugh at his own expense if not for the weary slope of Alexandra’s delicate shoulders. Not only wasn’t she sick, she had spent the whole time acting as nursemaid to them all, unselfishly attending to men, women, and children related to the men who had attacked her family.
He’d married a generous, forgiving woman. The extent of her goodness would soon be tested. “We’re almost to the farm,” he said.
Alexandra shaded her eyes and peered into the distance. “Can you see it yet?”
He ran his hand down her back. “No. The hills are in the way. Two more to go and we’ll be there.”
Pinhas stood off to the side of the rocky trail, waiting for them to catch up. “Shalom Shabbat,” he said falling in beside them.
Nathan offered his friend a weak smile. “What do you think? Will there be enough time to set the tents before sunset?”
The band of weary travelers had been pushing hard all day to reach his home before the start of Shabbat. They would stay with his family all tomorrow, observing the day of rest as the Law of Moses demanded.
The rugged stonecutter nodded. “Barely. We ought to go ahead of the others and begin the work.”
Nathan glanced over at Alexandra. He’d wanted to be with her when she got her first look at the farm. But Pinhas was the right.
Alexandra lifted her arm and pointed. “I see smoke.”
Smoke? Nathan’s head snapped around. A curl of white showed against the gray horizon.
Nathan pushed the rope tied to the donkey into Alexandra’s hands. Her brow was furrowed with concern. “I have to go,” he apologized. “The smoke is close to the farm. I’ll send Timothy back to help you.”
Not waiting for a reply, Nathan raced off. He dug his sandals into the ground, kicking up rocks and dirt.
Pinhas followed.
Lungs close to bursting, Nathan crested the hill overlooking the farm. White smoke rose from the hole in the roof. He scanned the yard, looking for the person or people bold enough to enter his home and kindle a cook fire. He saw a lone horse grazing in front of the house.
Nathan braced his hands on his thighs and gasped for breath. He’d predicted something like this would happen. Living next to the olive orchard was practical. It was also isolated and unprotected, which is why the majority of the people choose to live in walled cities and villages. Nathan repeated his concern every time they left the house unattended to go to Jerusalem for the required feasts. And every time his father would say, “Trust in the Lord” or “The Lord will provide.” Nathan took no satisfaction in being proven correct.
Pinhas came to a halt beside him. Panting, he asked, “Is the house safe?”
Nathan straightened. “You were thinking the same thing I was. Good. I’d hate to think I am growing to be an old, worried woman.”
Pinhas nodded. “Let’s go greet your visitor.”
A man stood at the threshold, watching them.
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They approached the house with caution. Then Nathan recognized the woolly head. Herod had never visited before. “What are you doing here?” Nathan called out.
Herod grinned and waved a greeting.
Assured bad news wasn’t in the offing, Nathan walked past Herod and took a quick look around the house. Everything appeared in order. “Come with me,” he told Herod. “We’ll talk while I draw water for the animals.” Nathan patted Pinhas’s shoulder. “The last of the old wine is in those large jars out back. You’ll need help carrying them.”
They headed toward the well. As other travelers started to arrive, Nathan fired off instructions for them as well.
Herod reached the well first and grabbed the worn, two-handled pitcher sitting on the rim of the ancient, rock-walled well. Lowering the jug into the water, he said, “You are an efficient leader.”
“I’m not rejoining the army,” Nathan declared for the thousandth time.
Herod dumped water into the clay trough. “Your talents are wasted out here.”
“And you are the most stubborn man I know.”
Herod dropped the pitcher back into the deep pit. “Can you honestly say you don’t miss fighting?”
A line of children carrying water containers of all shapes and sizes formed at the well. Nathan took the rope from Herod and dragged up the full vessel and emptied it into a waiting pot. “Why are you here?”
The children stared wide-eyed at Herod, unsure whether to be afraid or not.
Herod bared his teeth at the youngsters and growled. His leery audience tumbled over each other in their haste to get away from the formidable man.
Laughter softening his eyes, Herod turned back to Nathan. “My men still talk about your exploits. I saw a glimpse of the Angel of Death when you came charging over that hill.”
Nathan ground his teeth and whacked the pitcher against Herod’s chest. “Stop.”
Angel of death. Nathan had earned the name from Antipater on the heels of a particularly horrific battle. A name Nathan hated, as Herod knew.
Unfazed, the big man threw the water pot over the side of the well again. “Is that any way to treat your bodyguard?”