Beloved Protector (Heartsong Presents)

by Darlene Mindrup

  Tapat tried to soothe Hazaq, bouncing him gently in her arms. She stuck a finger in his mouth and he quieted, content to suck on the imaginary food source. She didn’t know how long it would continue to pacify him, but the relief from his screaming lessened her nervous tension.

  As the storm continued, Tapat lost track of time. The air in their structure turned stifling. She could feel the perspiration streaming down her face and back.

  Hazaq had given up on sucking her finger long ago, and his tormented screams twisted her insides. No matter what she tried, nothing could calm the child. If the heat was unbearable for her, what must it be like for him? It was long past the time when he normally would have fed. She could only hope that when the storm subsided the goat would not have wandered away nor have been buried by the flying sand.

  Talk was minimal. The clamor from without and within precluded having any kind of rational conversation.

  The air grew rank from seven sweaty bodies that hadn’t seen a bath in several days. When the babe added his aroma to the mix, the atmosphere grew stifling.

  Just when Tapat thought she could stand it no longer, the wind began to abate. She sensed more than heard the other men as they relaxed from battling the elements.

  Andronicus drew his cape over her again. “Stay covered,” he told her. “The wind has slowed but the sand is still blowing. Wait until we see if it is safe.”

  She could hear the cover being thrown back and the men scrambling to their feet. She pulled the cloak away from her face and took a deep breath, but she kept Hazaq covered until the stinging sand subsided. His little fists fought against the stifling cover, his voice becoming hoarse from screaming.

  She could see that both the goat and the horses had been hobbled to keep them from running away. They were a pitiful sight, heads hanging to the ground and covered with a thick coating of sand.

  Crassus immediately went to work to get some milk from the goat while the others checked over the horses and supplies. He turned his back to the wind to keep the sand from entering the bowl, and she once again appreciated his concern for Hazaq.

  The sand finally quit blowing when the wind settled down to a gentle, hot breeze.

  She uncovered Hazaq and noticed that his face was red from heat and crying. His cries had become hoarse little croaks. She could only pray that he had grown strong enough in the past two days to withstand the afflictions they were putting him through. If only they could have remained in the village for a few more days.

  Andronicus brought the water flask to her and helped her get a drink. “Spit out the first mouthful,” he warned, and she could see the sense in the command when she felt the grit in her mouth.

  She did as he suggested and then he upturned the flask further to give her better access to swallow. The water was tepid but still soothing to a throat parched from heat and sand.

  Crassus brought her the milk and stylus, settling himself beside her to help if necessary.

  * * *

  Andronicus watched Tapat and Crassus without appearing to do so. Crassus’s concern over the child had surprised him. He wasn’t certain if it was the child who drew him or Tapat. They conversed quietly. At times Tapat’s face became animated with an excitement he had rarely seen. She and Crassus seemed to have a lot to talk about. The thought left him feeling more than a little disgruntled.

  The storm had put them even further behind on time. He had hoped to be closer to the Jordan River tonight, but at the slow pace they were setting, that wasn’t going to happen. The closer they were to Perea and away from Judea, the happier he would be. They were still too close to wandering bandit territory for him to feel comfortable, and Perea was much more tolerant of Rome than Judea.

  Now, after the two-hour storm, they had to wait for the babe to feed.

  Andronicus walked over and leaned on the rock face of the hill beside Tapat.

  Crassus met his look, reading Andronicus’s lifted brow for what it was. He shifted uneasily and rose quickly to his feet.

  “I have things to attend to,” he told Tapat. “Let me know when you are ready to go and I will help you with the babe.” His glance bounced off Andronicus before he quickly walked away.

  Tapat was struggling to keep up with the babe’s thirst and hunger.

  “If I had to stay under that tent one more minute, I think my screaming would have joined with Hazaq’s,” she told him with a faint smile that warned him just how close to telling the truth she was. “How could you and your men remain so calm?”

  He gave a gentle snort, his glance searching out each of his men. They quietly and skillfully went about their work. If their nerves had been frayed by the squalling infant, they gave no sign. Regardless of the unexpected delays and surprises, they remained calm and focused. He felt a fierce pride in them and knew he had chosen well for this trip.

  “You have never been near a battle, have you?” he asked her.

  She shook her head, looking at him quizzically.

  His voice deepened at best-forgotten reminiscences. “When you are in battle, bodies crush in on you from all sides. The sound of metal on metal, scream on scream, battle call on battle call echoes all around until you cannot hear your heart pounding in your ears.” He glanced down when she placed her hand sympathetically on his, and he felt a tremor ripple through his body. He almost forgot what he had been about to say.

  “You learn to ignore anything around you until you no longer hear the sounds,” he finally finished. “All you hear is the voice inside your head trying to keep you alive.”

  She swallowed hard at his description, her features wreathed with concern. He shook his head to free it of the encroaching memories. He hadn’t meant to sound so morbid. It was a way of life he had lived with for years.

  Perhaps that’s what drew him so much toward Tapat. Her dark eyes were like calm, peaceful pools that he yearned to immerse himself in.

  “These men have seen many battles,” he admitted, wondering if Crassus saw the same thing in Tapat.

  Tapat glanced at each man with growing respect.

  Arius joined them. “What now? The hour grows late. Do we stay here or move on?”

  Andronicus glanced down at the sleeping infant. More than likely it was from sheer exhaustion instead of satiation. He would likely wake in a short time wanting more sustenance. He didn’t like the idea of staying here, but neither did he think it would be wise to leave. At least here they had some protection by the craggy hill.

  “Let’s make camp here for the night. I think we could all use the rest, including the animals.”

  Arius glanced briefly at Tapat. When his eyes met Andronicus’s, they held a warning. “Periculum in mora.”

  Andronicus frowned at the reminder that it was dangerous to delay. He didn’t need to be told that; he was well aware of the fact. And despite their many years of friendship, he was not about to have his orders questioned.

  “Dixi!”

  Arius straightened at the reminder of Andronicus’s authority. He gave a brief nod. “Libet.”

  Andronicus watched him walk away and give orders to the men. They quickly turned from packing supplies to making camp instead.

  The tent normally used for his own personal use would be set up for Tapat and the babe instead. He had no problem with sleeping under the starry skies. It gave him a sense of freedom and camaraderie with his men that was lacking in the more formal setting when he was separated by his own sleeping quarters.

  He noticed that Tapat looked weary. Crassus brought her more linen cloths to change Hazaq when he awoke, and she thanked him with a tired smile.

  While the others went about setting up camp, Andronicus gathered dry brush and sticks for a fire. Although the fire wasn’t needed for warmth nor for making a meal, it was warranted in case of predators.

  Hazaq aw
oke again after a few hours and Tapat began the feeding ritual. Andronicus settled next to her, watching as the babe hungrily suckled down the milk. His large brown eyes stared up at Andronicus with absolute trust, and the feelings that suddenly swarmed through Andronicus made him understand Tapat’s passionate desire to protect the child.

  “I told you he was strong,” he told her, unaware of the pride in his own voice. He tickled the babe under his chin and was rewarded with a smile.

  Tapat’s eyes met his and the warmth he saw in them melted his insides, his heart rate rising until it felt as if it would burst from his chest. He was once again reminded of how much power this woman seemed to hold over him. The rapid rise and fall of her chest told him that she was as much affected as he. When the pupils of her eyes softened and dilated, he knew he needed to quickly put some distance between them.

  Dragging his gaze away, he got to his feet and went to arrange for the coming watches, forcing himself not to look back.

  Arius stood on the perimeter of the camp staring outward, hands fisted on his waist. Andronicus joined him.

  “Is something bothering you?”

  Arius shrugged, his eyes narrowing. “Just a feeling.”

  Andronicus truly became concerned. Arius’s feelings had saved his life more than once.

  “What do you sense?” Andronicus asked, now studying the terrain more intensely.

  “Something hidden,” he said. “Some hidden malice that we cannot see.”

  At the other man’s prophetic voice, Andronicus searched for Tapat’s location to make certain she was where he had left her. She was calmly feeding the babe while the men reclined on their blankets and discussed the day’s storm. Crassus had once again made his way to Tapat’s side, and they were again in deep discussion. Everything seemed perfectly normal.

  The encroaching night brought out the nocturnal creatures. Crickets chirped in the distance. He could hear an owl hoot not far away, and in the far distance he could hear the roar of a lion.

  When the crickets suddenly stopped chirping, Andronicus straightened and Arius visibly tensed, pulling his sword from its scabbard.

  Andronicus only had time to pull his own sword and yell, “To arms!” before a group of men came out of seemingly thin air and attacked.

  * * *

  Tapat jerked her head up at Andronicus’s yell. Crassus was on his feet in an instant, his sword out and primed for battle. He planted his feet firmly in front of her, intent on defending her and the baby if the battle moved this way.

  Chaos broke out all around. She hugged Hazaq close, her eyes widening in terror as a group of men swarmed the camp, their yells sounding loud amid the clanging of sword on sword.

  She could see Andronicus slashing and swinging his sword, Arius at his side doing the same. They were hopelessly outnumbered. She placed a hand urgently on Crassus’s leg.

  “Go, Crassus! Go and help them!”

  He glanced down at her, his eyes glittering. “My orders...”

  “Go,” she interrupted. “They will not harm me.”

  He helplessly glanced back at where the fighting was fiercest. Celsus dropped to one knee as two men hacked away at him. Didius was warding off three others, his sword flashing left and right in a way only a soldier of Rome could accomplish.

  Crassus looked down at Tapat again, his eyes full of anguish.

  “Go,” Tapat whispered, and he turned and leaped across the distance to join the fight.

  She sat frozen, unable to do anything except watch as the battle played out around her.

  Huddled against the hill, no one took notice of her or Hazaq. The child’s screams couldn’t be heard above the cacophony. She cuddled him close, but the noise raging around him frightened him and he refused to be comforted. It didn’t help that her own fear was communicating itself to him, as well.

  The Romans fought ferociously yet with great skill, their minds completely on the combat at hand.

  She saw men fall to the ground, their lifeless eyes staring upward; she realized they were her countrymen. As yet, all the Romans were still on their feet. They fought with a skill and precision she had never seen before and hoped never to again. Their unified attack and defense allowed them to be seemingly in two places at a time. For the first time, she understood what Andronicus had meant about their concentration.

  Her feelings were ambivalent. She understood all too well the Jews’ desire to be free from Roman oppression, but she also knew that she could never ask Elohim to intercede in something that would bring about the death of Andronicus, nor his men, who she had come to like and admire.

  After several Jews fell to their deaths, the others began to disband and run away.

  One man turned to escape over the hill and noticed her and Hazaq. His eyes took on a glittering hue and she realized that he believed her to be the consort of one of the soldiers. He rushed at her, yelling wildly.

  Tapat pulled Hazaq beneath her and covered him with her body. At least when he struck her, the babe would be protected.

  She glanced over her shoulder, her face settling into lines of resolution.

  “Lord Jesus,” she whispered, “protect Hazaq and receive my spirit.”

  She heard Crassus yell and saw him running toward them. Time seemed to slow as both men converged on her location almost simultaneously. The Jew raised his sword to strike, but Crassus leaped across the space, his body twisting in midair as he turned his sword up to deflect the blow.

  Sword clanged against sword and Crassus landed on his back, sliding several feet across the ground. He didn’t have time to ready himself before the Jew slashed his sword down, catching Crassus across the chest and forearm. Crassus didn’t move again.

  The Jew suddenly jerked forward, head thrown backward, eyes wide, mouth open. He crumpled to the ground, a Roman pilum protruding from his back.

  Staring in horror, Tapat glanced up to see Andronicus, feet spread apart, facing in their direction, arm still poised from throwing the spear and the fury of battle flashing in his dark eyes. The remaining Jews scrambled away to safety. Arius and the others started to give chase, but Andronicus’s barked command stopped them in their tracks.

  Arius stood immobile, his chest heaving and his bloody sword still in hand ready to meet any further attack, as the others rushed to Crassus’s side.

  Tapat wanted to go to him as well but she was hindered by the still screaming Hazaq.

  Crassus lay unmoving, blood oozing onto the sand from an injury she could not ascertain.

  Hugging Hazaq close, Tapat began to weep.

  Chapter 11

  Andronicus could see his men’s concern as they moved back to make room for him to kneel next to Crassus. Crassus was the youngest among them and thus had been adopted by them all as a little brother.

  Andronicus glanced quickly at Tapat, the fear that had sliced through him when he saw her attacked making his heart still thrum like a galley war drum. “Are you hurt?”

  She shook her head, her bottom lip quivering in an ashen face. Her whole body was shaking, but other than that, she seemed unharmed.

  He felt for a pulse in Crassus’s neck and found it beating strongly against his fingers. He released a sigh. A pool of blood was forming on the sand beneath his hip, indicating the extent of the injury.

  “He’s alive,” he told them and heard a collective sigh of relief.

  “Praise be to Elohim,” Tapat cried softly.

  Andronicus noticed the catch in Tapat’s fervent response. He quickly glanced up and saw the tears shimmering in her eyes. He wondered just how close she and Crassus had become in the past few days. He recognized the feeling clawing its way through his insides and was dismayed by the depth of his jealousy. He turned his attention back to the matter at hand.

  “Did anyone see how many got
away?” Andronicus asked while carefully turning Crassus over to undo the fastenings for his chest piece. Although the lorica segmentata had deflected the slashing sword of his adversary, the weapon had slid down the iron chest piece and sliced through the lower leather section, piercing Crassus’s side. The wound was bleeding profusely, although it was fairly superficial, having missed any vital organs. He was more concerned with the gash on the young man’s head from hitting a rock when he landed. That was more than likely the reason Crassus was still unconscious, and head gashes tended to bleed heavier than any other kind of wound.

  “Four, Tribune,” Arius answered and Andronicus heard the displeasure in his voice at having been held back from pursuing them.

  Four assailants had survived out of fifteen. He once again felt fervent pride in his men. He doubted the Jews would be back anytime soon, because although they had escaped, they had not done so unscathed. Before moving to Crassus’s side, he had noticed a trail of blood leading away from their camp.

  He also saw that each of his men was nursing minor injuries, but their concern was more for Crassus.

  After removing Crassus’s armor, he lifted the side of his blood-red tunic, the symbol of his profession, and revealed the gaping wound in his side. Salvius handed him a cloth retrieved from their supplies. Andronicus tore it in two and used one piece to try to stem the flow of blood coursing from the open wound and the other to mop the blood from his forehead.

  Crassus began to stir, and Andronicus almost wished it otherwise. It would be much better for the boy to remain unconscious for what he was going to have to do.

  He looked up at Salvius and saw understanding in the other man’s eyes.

  “Shall I stoke the fire?”

  Andronicus nodded, his look grave. “And get me a pugio.” The short dagger would be much easier to use as a cautery than the longer gladius.

  “What are you going to do?”

  Tapat’s soft question invaded his worried reflections. With everything happening, he hadn’t noticed that the babe had stopped screaming. He quickly sought out the reason and noticed the child had cried himself into exhausted sleep, little hiccuping breaths denoting the trauma he had just been through.