Beloved Protector (Heartsong Presents)

by Darlene Mindrup

  “What are we to do?”

  Andronicus hesitated. They couldn’t just leave them here to slowly starve, but he also didn’t think they would survive for very long. He could understand why Arius hadn’t wanted Tapat to see this sight.

  “Tribune? The humane thing would be to put them out of their misery.”

  Before Andronicus could answer him, they were startled by a scream from the doorway.

  “No!”

  Chapter 7

  Tapat had watched Andronicus walk away and had almost called him back. She, too, hadn’t missed the inflection in Arius’s voice warning of something that he wouldn’t say outright. Why had the man looked at her like that?

  The eeriness of the deserted village made her edgy. She could tell the soldiers felt the same. Their uneasy glances continually swept around the village and beyond. They kept their hands resting on their swords.

  How sad that many of these homes would never see their occupants again. Would this little village cease to exist, along with so many others? Thousands of Jews had died already, and when the attack on Jerusalem commenced, many more would also. It saddened her to think that their rejection of the Savior had cost them eternity with Elohim. If it saddened her, how much more so Him who loved them so much He was willing to sacrifice His only Son?

  Curious about the people who had lived here, she crossed to the house closest to her and, feeling like an intruder, eased open its door and peered inside. It was a typical Jewish home with clay walls and a dirt floor. Dust motes caused by the air from the opened door danced in the fading sunbeams coming from the room’s lone window aperture. Whoever had once lived here had left in a hurry. Items were scattered about haphazardly, plates left on the table.

  A rat scurried across, knocking over a lamp, and she jumped back in alarm. She quickly backed out and closed the door.

  The house next to it was completely opposite. The owner of this house had set his house in order before leaving. Except for the dust covering every surface, the place was neat and tidy. Very little furniture and few home goods had been left behind, suggesting that they probably had someone with whom to stay in Jerusalem, or else they had moved farther east where Rome’s presence had little been felt.

  Tapat’s vivid imagination could picture the chaos that erupted when news of the Roman invasion reached here: people running about, children crying, animals squawking as they were being caged for travel.

  Now the absolute silence made her shiver.

  A feeling that something was terribly amiss sent her suddenly dashing in the direction Andronicus had disappeared.

  Crassus called her back, but she ignored him. She could hear the three men hurrying after her. She knew she was disobeying Andronicus’s command to stay put, but something urged her on. No doubt the soldiers were more concerned about disobeying Andronicus than she was.

  She stopped at the end of the village but could see no sign of Andronicus or Arius. The other men caught up with her, glancing around apprehensively. Like her, they grew uneasy at the two men’s disappearance.

  Noticing an open doorway, Tapat headed in that direction. She peeked her head in the opened door and almost gagged at the odor coming from inside.

  She heard Arius’s question to Andronicus. She stood frozen for an instant, horrified at what she had just heard. The callousness of what he was about to do horrified her almost as much as the thought of the act itself. Was Rome then so lacking in mercy or humanity? Was Andronicus?

  Before Andronicus could answer Arius, she screamed a denial. Both men turned startled countenances her way. Andronicus’s forehead drew together into a forbidding scowl.

  “I told you to stay put!”

  She ignored the comment and came farther into the hut. Andronicus put up a hand to stop her.

  “Stay back! We don’t know what kind of fever the woman has.”

  Tapat hesitated but a moment, then she hurried forward, intent on pushing her way through the two men, but their well-honed bodies were as solid as the mountains that surrounded Jerusalem.

  Her pleading look meshed with Andronicus’s fierce glare.

  “Please,” she begged. “Perhaps I can help.”

  Arius glanced from one to the other and frowned. “Tribune! We haven’t the time,” he cautioned.

  Andronicus fixed the man with a steely look and Arius subsided. Andronicus then turned back to Tapat. His eyes warmed with compassion.

  “We have to stay the night here anyway. What harm can come from trying to make her passing as easy as possible?” The fierce look was gone from his face, replaced by one of pity. “She cannot last, Tapat. And without nourishment, neither will the child.”

  The babe made a little mewling sound, and it was then that Tapat noticed the child. This time when she tried to pass, Andronicus allowed it.

  She knelt by the woman’s side, ignoring the strong smell. It was obvious she had been lying here unable to fend for herself for some time. Her body waste had soiled the sheets and blankets on her bed.

  The child lay in a stupor beside her in the same condition. More than likely the mother’s milk had dried up, but how long ago? How long could a babe survive without food? If something wasn’t done soon, they would both die. Her lips settled into a hard, determined line. Not if she had anything to do with it!

  Tapat turned to Andronicus. “I need water, lots of it. And a fire.”

  “Tapat...”

  “Please!” she begged. “We have to try to help.”

  “My Lord...” Arius began heatedly but was interrupted by Crassus speaking from the doorway.

  “I will get the water.”

  Crassus had stepped inside, but the others had remained outside. Tapat couldn’t blame them. The smell was intense. She glanced at Crassus in approbation.

  “Thank you.”

  Crassus awaited permission, his look fixed on Andronicus. Arius looked as though he was about to berate the young man, but Andronicus spoke before he could.

  “Go.”

  Arius sighed heavily, his glance at Andronicus speaking his aggravation more readily than words. Andronicus ignored him, focusing instead on Tapat.

  “What can I do?”

  Tapat’s heart swelled with gratitude. “I need clean bedding. Look through some of the other houses and see if there is any left that we can use. And I need some light.”

  Already the shadows had deepened with approaching night.

  She glanced down at the baby and her heart nearly broke. “Perhaps the men can search the area and see if there might be a goat.” It was doubtful, but she was desperate. She began an unending prayer to Elohim.

  Andronicus turned to Arius. “You heard her. Take the men and see what you can find.”

  Arius snorted in disbelief. He gave Andronicus a look that told Tapat if they hadn’t been friends, he would have let his commander know in no uncertain terms what he thought of him. Instead, he shoved past Andronicus and began barking orders at the men.

  Tapat’s distressed eyes met those of Andronicus. She was interfering in his command of his men and he was siding with her against his centurion.

  “I’m sorry,” she told him softly.

  He didn’t answer right away. He finally took a deep breath. “I’ll go see about the bedding.”

  Crassus was just coming in the door with an urn of water when Andronicus left. He set the water to the side of the sleeping mat and looked at Tapat.

  “I’ll start the fire.”

  She thanked him with a look. He ducked back out the door, and she could hear him rummaging around trying to find wood to build a fire outside. She found herself wondering about the young man. How could he be so kind yet also be a soldier of Rome? The difference between him and Arius in regard to the woman and child was as wide as a chasm. Perhaps it had to
do with time spent in Rome’s army. Yet, Andronicus was unlike Arius, as well. Or was he? Would he have allowed the other man to kill the woman and child if not for her interference?

  “I found a few things.”

  Andronicus’s voice startled her out of her preoccupation, and she hurried to attend to the woman and child.

  Crassus came back into the hut. “I have the fire going. What can I do now?”

  Without looking at him, she gave instructions on how to prepare a broth using a pot from the kitchen and some of their supplies. Before he did so, he lit the small lamp bowl filled with olive oil that Andronicus had found. The little bit of light cast eerie shadows dancing and gyrating across the walls.

  Andronicus stood looking down at her as she wiped the woman’s brow with a wet cloth. He had removed his helmet but retained his sword and armor. His curly dark hair clung wetly to his scalp. He was so handsome; in other circumstances, she would have been willing to stare at him forever.

  “You know they will probably not survive, don’t you?”

  She looked away. “That is in Elohim’s hands.” She continued wiping the woman’s face. “You can leave now. I need to undress the woman to clean her.”

  “Shall I attend to the child?”

  Once again her heart swelled with gratitude. She didn’t want to believe that Andronicus could be a ruthless Roman soldier, and it was at times like this that she felt she knew the real man—the one beneath all the Roman accoutrements.

  “Thank you.”

  He gently lifted the lethargic baby and, ignoring the child’s strong scent, cuddled the bundle close as he exited the house.

  Tapat turned her attention to the woman. She was so thin that Tapat had no trouble lifting her body to remove her clothes. The woman couldn’t have weighed more than a five-year-old child.

  She then took the bedding Andronicus had provided and made a new bed on the other side of the room.

  She searched the house for another garment that she could use but could find none. She wasn’t surprised; from the look of things, this was a poor village, and most of the country’s impoverished had only one garment to their name.

  She poked her head out the door and found Crassus stirring something in a clay pot over the fire. She glanced around for Andronicus but could see no sign of him nor of the others. Already the sun was setting behind the mountains in the distance. They were now in the approaching band of twilight. Darkness would soon make it impossible to see without some kind of light to illuminate the way.

  “Crassus.”

  He glanced at her expectantly.

  “Could you go to my horse, open the bag tied to its side and bring me the blue tunic you find there?”

  He paused but then gave a jerk of his head in confirmation and hurried to do as she’d asked.

  She went back inside and continued wiping down the woman’s body. As she did so, the woman moaned softly.

  Crassus came into the room, her blue tunic clutched in his hand. She hoped that Andronicus could forgive her for parting with the gift.

  “Do you need help?” Crassus asked.

  She shook her head. “No, not yet. I can manage to dress her but I will need your help to move her.”

  He looked at the woman, and Tapat was surprised by the pity she saw in his eyes. He gave Tapat a brief smile. “Just call me and I will come.”

  After she got the woman dressed, Crassus helped Tapat move her to the freshly made bed. He then took the soiled bedding outside. The scent in the room would take longer to eradicate, but it was less intense than before.

  Crassus brought her a bowl of the broth, and Tapat took it, blowing to cool it. She had no idea whether the woman could swallow in her present condition, but she had to try. Although a person could go without food for a while, three days without water could kill a person. The small clay cup overturned beside the sleeping mat told its own story.

  Tapat took a small spoonful of the broth and tried to feed it to the woman. Although some of it dribbled down the sides of her cheeks, Tapat was relieved to see that, even in her comatose state, her swallowing reflexes were normal. She fed her more, little bits at a time to keep her from choking.

  Tapat glanced up when Andronicus came back into the house. He had rewrapped the child in clean cloths, not like the swaddling cloths of her people, but it would do. She gave him a smile and he returned it halfheartedly. She knew without asking that he was concerned at how she would handle things if the two died, knowing how recent her own grief was. Even she didn’t understand the obsession that had overtaken her.

  Andronicus noticed the blue tunic on the woman, and his eyes narrowed. He looked at Tapat for answer and she shrugged helplessly.

  “There was no other.”

  He stared hard at her for several seconds before shaking his head in resignation. He seated himself at the table, still cuddling the babe. His face softened when he looked down at the child.

  “Is it a boy or a girl?” Tapat asked him.

  “A boy,” he told her without looking up from the child’s face.

  “How is he doing?”

  “Not well.”

  Those two little words said without inflection imparted more information than a brief recitation would have. Tapat’s heart dropped to her toes.

  A groaning from the mat caused Tapat’s heart to quicken. She looked at her patient, relieved to see her slowly open her eyes, which were still glazed with fever.

  She stared at Tapat uncomprehendingly.

  “What is your name?” Tapat asked her softly in Aramaic, gently brushing the woman’s hair out of her eyes.

  “Martha,” she croaked. Dawning comprehension widened her eyes. The ill woman tried to get up but was too weak to do more than lift her head and shoulders. She fell weakly back against the bed.

  “My baby,” she croaked. “Where is my baby?”

  “He is here,” she said, motioning for Andronicus to bring the child. He did so, and she gently laid the babe next to its mother. Martha was too weak to hold the baby on her own but was content to have him near. She looked down at her child and her eyes filled with tears. She knew without being told that the child hadn’t long to live if something couldn’t be done soon.

  “How long have you been like this?” Tapat asked.

  Martha looked up, and her glazed eyes darkened with memory. Her voice was no more than a whispered thread. “When the soldiers came, I was already in labor. I couldn’t leave with the others.”

  Tapat was horrified. “Have you no family? What of your husband?”

  “My husband was in Jerusalem for Passover.” She paused, struggling for breath. “No one else was willing to stay.... The Romans...” Martha’s voice grew fainter as she spoke.

  Tapat was thankful that the woman couldn’t see the two soldiers standing just outside the ring of light. She wanted to question Martha further but knew that she was barely hanging on to life as it was. Exhausted from her slight exertion, Martha closed her eyes.

  “Can you manage to eat some broth if I feed you?”

  “I will...try.”

  Tapat managed to get several spoons of broth into her before Martha once again slipped into unconsciousness.

  She picked up the babe and cuddled him close. Large, lackadaisical brown eyes stared up at her. She could feel its bony frame through the coverings. How long had it been since he had had nourishment from his mother? Tears welled in her eyes, and she began to pray harder. Surely it could not be Elohim’s will for her to have found them only to lose them.

  Noise from outside alerted them seconds before Arius came into the house. He glanced at the woman and the child still held closely in Tapat’s arms.

  “Are they still alive?”

  His disbelief was obvious. The other three men followed him into the h
ouse, decreasing the size of the room by half.

  “They are alive,” Andronicus told him. “Did you find a goat?”

  He looked at Andronicus in wonder. “In fact, we did.”

  Tapat’s mouth dropped open in amazement. “Praise Elohim!”

  The look Arius gave her almost made her smile. She hadn’t meant to take away his moment of triumph, but she knew where to give the true credit.

  “I have no idea how you are going to manage to feed the child,” he told her in irritation. “Nor do I know anything about milking a goat.”

  Neither did Tapat, but she knew now that the Lord had sent her to this place at this time for a specific purpose. If the two didn’t survive, it would not be for lack of her trying.

  “I can milk a goat,” Crassus volunteered. His companions stared at him incredulously. All except Tapat. She was beginning to believe there was much more to the young man than was on the surface. She was also beginning to see Elohim’s hand in all that was transpiring. It wasn’t coincidental that Crassus had been chosen to travel with them.

  Crassus took a bowl and went outside to milk the goat. Now she had only to figure out how to get the milk into the babe.

  Chapter 8

  Andronicus thought of the stylus he used for writing buried among his supplies. With the sharp edge cut away, the reed tube could be used to slowly drop milk into the babe’s mouth. He cut off the tip and washed out the dried ink that was inside.

  He explained his idea to Tapat and then watched Tapat as she sat by the fire outside the hut cuddling the child close. She patiently dipped the pen into the bowl of milk, using her thumb to cover the open end. This allowed suction to hold the milk inside the straw tube. The babe suckled desperately for the sustenance as Tapat slowly released her thumb to allow the milk to be disbursed.

  “I think it’s going to work!” she told him, the smile in her voice reaching her eyes before it reached her lips.