The Warrior (The Herod Chronicles Book 1)

by Wanda Ann Thomas

  Nathan’s hands balled.

  Rage marred Bartholomew’s puffy face. It mirrored the black fury surging through Nathan’s blood. He choked. What was he doing? Did he mean to start a fistfight in the house of prayer? He rolled his shoulders and flexed his fingers. “Elder Bartholomew, surely we can put our differences aside for synagogue.”

  Bartholomew rested his arms on his round stomach. “You assume wrong.”

  Nathan couldn’t believe it was coming down to this. “My father will die of grief if you bar him from synagogue.”

  “You are a rich man now.” Bartholomew smiled smugly. “Build your own house of prayer. Pay a scribe to make you a copy of the Holy Books.”

  Nathan blinked repeatedly. Build himself a house of prayer? It was the way of things in Jerusalem. The holy city boasted dozens and dozens of synagogues, many built thanks to differences that couldn’t be solved. Most Galilean towns were too poor to have even one house of prayer. If he was going to build a synagogue—as likely as deciding to erect a statue of Zeus in his orchard—Rumah would be the dead last place he’d put it. He found his voice again, “You are in earnest?”

  Bartholomew’s thick lips firmed.

  Nathan gritted his teeth together, lest he say something he’d regret, made his way to the door, stepped outside, and exhaled exaggeratedly. What an unholy mess. Eager to talk to his father and to hold Lex in his arms, he headed for his horse. Racing around the corner of the building, he came face to face with Pinhas and Hezekiah.

  Pinhas and Hezekiah together?

  CHAPTER 17

  Nathan could hardly believe his eyes. Pinhas and Hezekiah had their arms slung over each other’s shoulders, laughing over something. They halted

  Nathan reeled on his feet. “Shalom, Pinhas. Hezekiah.”

  The rebel leader appeared unperturbed, an impressive feat, as he surely hadn’t expected to find Nathan in Rumah, attending synagogue. That’s because Nathan was supposed to be away for another week. Only Herod had called the hunt off early.

  Pinhas stared at Nathan opened-mouthed. Nathan gave his friend a hard look. “Don’t tell me you’ve joined them?”

  The stonemason stood taller. “The Lord has said, I will deliver you out of the hand of the wicked, and I will redeem you out of the hand of the oppressor.” Pinhas quoted from the prophet, Jeremiah.

  “Don’t do this,” Nathan implored his friend.

  Pinhas wavered. “I...I—”

  “Turn back while you can, traitor,” Hezekiah said.

  Nathan gritted his teeth against the insult and kept his focus on Pinhas. “Would you leave Martha husbandless and baby Simon fatherless?”

  Hezekiah laid his hand on Pinhas’ arm. “Remember what the Lord says, ‘I will preserve the fatherless. And let the widows trust in me’.”

  Pinhas exchanged a troubled look between them. What was Nathan supposed to say to that? There was much about Hezekiah he admired. He was a devout man of faith who feared the Lord. It was easy to see why others listened and followed him.

  Hezekiah’s present suffering would only increase his fame. Normally fastidious about his appearance, the rebel leader’s unkempt beard, stained clothing, and tired eyes spoke of a man fighting to stay one step ahead of his enemies. He smelled of sweat and dirt. Nathan imagined three weeks on horseback had left him looking equally weary and rumpled. How had they come to this? His anger drained away. “Hear me out,” he said. “Turn Judas over to the Sanhedrin and you will all be free to return home to your families.”

  Hezekiah frowned. “I pray the Lord forgives you.” He walked on.

  Pinhas lowered his eyes and followed Hezekiah.

  The sunny day became black as night to Nathan.

  ***

  Alexandra woke up alone in her bed. The tent was cold without Nathan there to warm it. Time had crawled by as she waited for him to return from hunting the bandits. Please help him to find Lydia. Please keep him safe.

  The sound of the goats bawling to be fed and milked—a job she was in no hurry to get to— almost made her miss her brother, James. He woke up as grumpy as the goats, but his irascibility had the merit of sometimes making her smile.

  She laid her palm on her flat stomach. Married for four months, she had hoped to be with child by now. Spare me from a barren womb, Lord. A woman could be forgiven many other failings. Besides, it was too soon to worry. “But I am worried,” she confessed to the heavens.

  The goats’ cries grew louder. Alexandra sighed, threw back the covers and crawled out of bed. Shivering against the cold, she donned her warmest tunic and stepped outside the tent. She studied the idle outlines of the half-finished stone house. Pinhas refused to complete the work, resisting her father-in-law’s friendly overtures. Joseph’s attempts to make peace with his neighbors had proved equally fruitless. He gave up the task, saying a colony of lepers would find a warmer welcome in Rumah than the family would right now.

  She tipped her head back and sought solace in the beauty of the crisp, blue sky. Lord, why? Nathan and his family are such good people.

  She rubbed her arms and made her way across the yard. The goats heard her coming and their bleating grew more insistent. She stopped outside the mud house turned stable. Not particularly convinced she’d meet with any more success at milking the goats today than she had yesterday, or the day before that, or the day before that. She squared her shoulders, opened the door and stepped inside.

  “Baaah, to you, fool beasts.” She plugged her nose. “Phew...and you are extra smelly today.”

  She grabbed a rake and mucked the soiled straw into one corner. Ignoring the goats butting up against her, she put down fresh bedding, filled the water trough, poured sour-smelling grain into the manger, and the easy work was done.

  She eyed the goats with disfavor, sighed, and placed a stool next to Blossom. “Good old girl,” she said running her hand over the goat’s white, bristly fur. She set a bowl under the animal. A few massaging strokes of her fingers and the swish, swish of liquid hitting pottery mixed with the munch, munch of the goats chewing their food.

  Finished with docile Blossom, Alexandra turned her scowl on her arch nemesis, a feisty she-goat bearing a distinctive patch of white on its nose. Everyone called the goat Star. Everyone except her. She pointed a warning finger at the creature. “You be good today, Jezebel.”

  Moving ever so slowly, Alexandra pushed the stool and milk dish into position. Prepared with a new strategy today, she reached into her pocket and eased out a chunk of honeycomb. “Here, Jezebel. This ought to distract you, Spawn of Satan.” Slipping the bribe into the goat’s mouth, she cautiously took her seat and moved her hand closer and closer to the nearest udder.

  Like a dog digging at fleas, the goat lifted her hind leg and batted at her. A sharp hoof dinged her fingers. “Ow. Look what you’ve done.” She sucked at a stinging cut.

  So much for today’s plan.

  Drawing a calming breath, she laid a hand on the goat’s side. Using her shoulder to block the goat’s hind leg, the way Nathan had taught her, she reached under the goat. Jezebel turned and kicked. The powerful hooves hit Alexandra in the chest, knocking her backward off the stool. She landed hard on her back at the same time she saw Jezebel’s feet land in the pottered bowl, spilling Blossom’s milk into the hay. “Drat!”

  “Are you all right?”

  Startled she sat halfway up. “Ouch.” Covering the small knot of pain in her chest, she flopped back into the hay. “You’re home.”

  “Lie still,” Nathan said, crossing the room.

  She rolled her eyes. “How much of my inept display did you witness?” Most likely he’d seen enough to confirm the fact she was a helpless ninny when it came to animals.

  Nathan knelt down beside her. “And here I thought you’d be happy to see me.” Though he teased, concern clouded his eyes. “I hate to think about the bruises you’re going to have.”

  She smiled half-heartedly. “I’ll be fine. I’m more embarrassed than hurt
.” She touched the back of her hand to his face. “I am happy to see you, but just not under these...ah, circumstances.” And wasn’t that much more dignified than saying she’d been outsmarted by a four-legged, cud-chewing she-devil.

  Nathan kissed her forehead. “It’s not your fault.” He pointed a finger at guilty animal. “One more trick out of you, Jezebel, and you are going to find yourself the guest of honor at a family feast.”

  Alexandra grimaced. “Jezebel? You heard that, huh? I thought I was being so clever, giving her the honeycomb.”

  Nathan made a face. “The foolish beast is too stubborn for her own good.” He looked back at Alexandra and frowned. No doubt thinking Jezebel and his wife were quite a pair.

  She held out her hands. “Could you help me up? I’m finding it hard to carry on a dignified conversation with goats wandering around my head.”

  Nathan smiled. He scooped her off the ground as though she weighed nothing, righted the stool, set her down, and proceeded to brush the hay from her clothes. A goat bumped Alexandra in the back. Nathan shooed it away.

  She twined her fingers together. “I have a confession to make.”

  The hand rubbing over her back slowed. “It sounds serious.”

  “I think you should know...” she blew at the stray wisps of hair tickling her nose “...I hate goats.” The silky strands settled back onto her face.

  “Is that so?” Nathan tucked the renegade curls behind her ear. “You could take charge of the turtledoves.”

  “Start small and work my way up to goats? Is that it?”

  Nathan smiled. “Yes. Or we could hire more help.”

  She knew this was coming. She sighed and dug her fingernail at the miniscule pieces of chaff sticking to her tunic. “Yes...I suppose you should.”

  “You are good at stitchwork.” Nathan’s hand covered hers. “Mary loves her new apron.”

  She made herself look up and smile. While she appreciated his attempt to console her, she wouldn’t have him feeling sorry for her. “I will not give up trying new tasks. Some needlework is fine. But too much of it makes me cross-eyed.” And didn’t she sound peevish and immature? She couldn’t help it. There had to be something more useful she could contribute to the family and to the running of the farm, she just hadn’t found her role here. But she would.

  Finished brushing her clothes, Nathan walked over to the door, stuck his head around the corner, and yelled for Mary and Sapphira.

  Alexandra covered her face. “Did you have to do that? I’d rather the others didn’t hear I let the goats get the best of me. Again.”

  “The girls can finish the milking.” Nathan walked back to her side. “If you are feeling up to a walk, there’s something I want to show you.”

  Mary came bounding through the door. “Nathan, you’re home!” Not waiting for an explanation, she rushed over and kissed Nathan on the cheek.

  Nathan hugged the young girl. “Shalom, to you, sweet lamb,” he said, giving his sister an indulgent smile.

  Mary turned to her. “Shalom, Alexandra.”

  Alexandra tried to stand. “Ow.” A stab of pain made her sit back down. She pressed her hands to her chest. “Dumb goats,” she muttered.

  Nathan’s warm hand massaged her neck. “Perhaps you should go lie down.”

  Mary squatted down beside her. “What’s the matter, poor dear?”

  Alexandra waved off the attention. “It’s nothing.”

  Sapphira came through the barn door, followed by Rhoda.

  “Nathan.” Rhoda nodded briskly. “Did the girls do something wrong?”

  “Shalom to you, Rhoda,” Nathan said. “It’s nice to see you, too.” Rhoda made an impatient face. Nathan laughed and went on. “The girls, I am sure, have been nothing but angelic.”

  Mary and Sapphira giggled.

  Nathan smiled and winked at them. “It is the goats who are in a pesky mood. They are extra frisky this morning. I think it best to have Mary and Sapphira finish the milking.”

  Alexandra fidgeted under Rhoda’s appraising gaze. Her aggravation with her daughter-in-law showed clear in her weary eyes. The older woman wiped her flour-covered hands on a rag. “Very well,” she said. “Sapphira can manage alone. I need Mary’s help in the house.”

  Rhoda shooed Mary out the door ahead of her. Alexandra sighed. Nathan squeezed her shoulder. “Don’t let Rhoda’s bad mood bother you. She is easily put out of sorts.”

  A truth Alexandra understood too well, as annoying her mother-in-law was the sole task she excelled at. The worst of it was that Rhoda’s disgust had merit. Like now for instance. There was much work to be done—the goats’ accusing baas were growing more impatient the longer they waited to be relieved of the milk swelling their udders; a double portion of grain needed to be ground today in preparation for Shabbat; the olive trees needed pruning—yet the family had been called away from their chores to cluck over her.

  Alexandra forced a bright smile onto her face. “I think it’s time we get out of Sapphira’s way.” She addressed the young maid directly, “I’m sorry you have to clean up my mess. I promise to make it up to you.”

  The servant’s cheeks blushed prettily. “I’m glad to be of service, good woman.” She dipped her face respectfully and was turning her attention to the goats when Nathan stopped her.

  “Sapphira.”

  The girl glanced back at him and blushed brighter. “Yes?”

  “Leave the soiled hay for me to clean up,” he told her.

  “Thank you, Nathan.”

  Every jealous bone in Alexandra’s body took exception to the simple exchange. Clearing her throat louder than necessary, she said, “Nathan, you had something you wanted to show me?”

  Nathan sat down on his haunches, so they were at eye level. “The walk will be too much for you. It will wait.”

  She touched her sore chest. He might be right. Opening her mouth to agree, she bit back the words upon spying Sapphira’s pleased smile. The annoyingly competent slave-maid was kneeling beside Jezebel, and, of course, the horrid goat stood perfectly motionless for the girl. The rhythmic hiss, hiss of milk splashing into the pottered bowl set Alexandra’s teeth on edge.

  Alexandra suspected that if she were with child she wouldn’t feel half so threatened by the strong, capable slave maiden. The problem was that Sapphira possessed all the qualities a farmer could hope to find in a wife. With her generous hips and budding breasts, the girl looked the picture of fertility. Sapphira would, no doubt, conceive a child on her wedding night and bear her happy husband many, many sons. Drat the girl.

  And now to top it all off, she could hear herself sounding hateful and mean. Nathan had not given her any cause to worry where Sapphira was concerned, instead going out of his way to reassure Alexandra.

  That might all change if she remained childless.

  ***

  Nathan led Lex out of the barn and into the orchard. White blossoms blanketed the olive trees like freshly fallen snow. Sheltered under the ivory canopy, his sore heart took solace in the fragrant smells, the chirping birdsong, and the gentle stroke of the breeze brushing his skin. The peacefulness of the place made him want to stay there forever.

  “Paradise couldn’t be more beautiful,” Lex said in hushed awe.

  “Paradise indeed,” he agreed. “I was hoping I’d be home before budding season passed. This is my favorite time of the year. I wanted to share it with you. I am almost tempted to pull up our tent and pitch it here.”

  “Oh, yes. It sounds wonderful.”

  He smiled. His refined, highborn wife was at war with the goats and she was excited at the prospect of sleeping in an olive orchard. God couldn’t be overly angry with him, to give him Lex.

  She glanced up at him. “How did the hunt go?”

  “It was totally fruitless, until this morning...when I ran into Hezekiah as I was leaving Rumah.” Lex’s gray eyes widened. He shared what had happened.

  “What do we do now?”

  “We?” H
e wriggled his brows at her. Lex laughed. At least, one aspect of his life was headed in the right direction. Lex was blooming to life before his eyes. “We will need to find new buyers for our olives because no one in Rumah, or Galilee for that matter, will purchase a drop of oil from our orchard. We’ll have to sell it to the Greeks.”

  He drew her to a stop beside a row of saplings growing in the heart of the olive grove. A gentle breeze arose. Iridescent petals floated past them. Lex reached her delicate fingers to the flowers. “The people here seem extra-leery of gentiles. But you and your father think very differently. Is it because of your time in the army?”

  “No, it is because of my mother.”

  “Your mother?” Lex gave him her full attention.

  “She was not from here. She was from Gamala.”

  “Your mother was from Decapolis? So she was used to living beside pagans.” A mix of Jews and pagans lived in a group of cities located on the other side of the Sea of Galilee and the River Jordan in a region called Decapolis. Curiosity danced in Lex’s eyes. “But how did she end up in Rumah?”

  It had been a long time since Nathan had talked with anyone about his mother, who hadn’t let his father get away with anything. His father never minded, saying he had won the most important arguments when she agreed to marry him. He smiled thinking about his father as a young man. “Like me, my father got it in his mind to leave the olive farm. He worked as a fisherman on the Sea of Galilee. He met my mother in the fish market, wooed her with moonlit boat rides, convinced her to marry him, and to come and live here as a farmer’s wife.”

  Lex studied him. “You look like her, don’t you?”

  “According to my father I am the very image of my mother.”

  She touched his face. “She must have been very beautiful.”

  Nathan inhaled deeply. He’d been trying hard to keep his hands to himself because he didn’t trust himself to stop touching Lex once he started. Control stripped away, he skimmed his fingers up the length of Lex’s long, elegant neck. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, exposing the soft flesh edging her jaw. He touched his tongue to her warm skin and stroked her slim waist.