“I have to cauterize the wound,” he told her. “Although it’s not deep, it will stay open and continue to bleed if it isn’t stopped.”
He thought she might object, but she nodded in understanding. “Shall I get you some salt?”
“I have it,” Salvius said, handing Andronicus the dagger and dropping the bag of salt at his side.
Crassus’s eyelids flickered and then opened lethargically. “Tapat?” he questioned in an anxious whisper.
“She is well,” Andronicus told him, jealousy once again twining through him like an insidious serpent. “You saved her life.”
If he lived to be a hundred years old, he would forever be in this young man’s debt for doing so. The thought of Tapat’s death chilled him to his very bones.
Tapat got up and came to kneel beside Crassus. Snugly holding the child with one arm, she reached out and pushed damp tendrils of hair from Crassus’s forehead.
“I owe you my life,” she told him, but he shook his head.
“No,” he rasped. “I owe you much more than that.”
Andronicus frowned at the look of understanding that passed between them. What lunacy was this? What could he possibly owe Tapat that was more important than life?
Tapat glanced at Andronicus. “Do you need some help?”
His frown deepened. “No. I need you to move away so I can get this done. Take the child elsewhere.”
Her eyes widened and her lips parted in surprise at his surly command. She pressed them together into an uncompromising line. Nodding, she moved away but still remained close.
Crassus, also, was staring at him in astonishment, but he knew better than to comment. Andronicus ignored his inquiring look and placed the pugio in the fire.
“You know what I have to do?”
It was more a statement than a question. Crassus swallowed hard and nodded.
Didius stepped forward. “Do you need us to hold him?”
Andronicus lifted a brow at Crassus. It was up to the young man how these seasoned soldiers would perceive him in the future—strong or weak, boy or man. He would not make that decision for him.
Crassus’s mouth grew rigid. “I don’t need anyone to hold me.”
Salvius looked skeptically at Andronicus for confirmation.
“You heard the man,” Andronicus told him, putting just the slightest emphasis on the word man.
Celsus brought a small stick and handed it to Crassus. Crassus thanked him with a look and placed it between his teeth. His nostrils flared outward as he nodded for Andronicus to do what he must.
Andronicus cleansed the wound first with water from his goatskin. His look held understanding when he saw Crassus tense against the burning pain.
“Ready?”
Crassus nodded, staring upward at the now dark and star-filled sky. Sweat beaded on his brow.
Andronicus pulled the dagger from the fire and, gritting his teeth, slowly pulled it across the wound, searing the edges of the cut together. He winced in sympathy at Crassus’s muffled scream. Although Crassus’s body jerked slightly, he forced himself to remain still by digging his hands into the desert sand.
Andronicus was impressed with the young man’s fortitude. He had known of stronger men than Crassus who cried like a baby when faced with a glowing hot instrument.
He took a handful of salt and carefully packed it around the wound, noting that the burning brought tears to the young man’s eyes. More than likely the pain from the salt was worse than the actual cauterization, but it was necessary to stave off infection. He then wrapped a bandage around Crassus’s waist, sealing the salt against the burn.
“Well, Didius,” Salvius commented, mouth twitching with humor, “I guess it’s up to you to milk the goat.”
Didius opened his mouth to object, caught Andronicus’s look and subsided.
“Seniority,” Andronicus reminded him, biting back a grin.
Didius glared at his chuckling companions but went to get the bowl for milking the goat.
Andronicus knew that their merriment was only a ruse to cover the depth of their concern over Crassus’s condition. Although such things came with the territory of being a soldier, it wasn’t any easier to accept when it was a friend in question. The relief and consequent humor came from knowing that the injury could have been much worse.
He caught Tapat’s look. He saw her tears of sympathy, but he also spied a suggestion of joy peeking out from beneath the pain. Something had transpired between her and Crassus that he didn’t understand, but he fully intended to find out what it was.
* * *
Tapat empathized with Crassus’s pain but was elated at what he had hinted to her. The young man had sought out every opportunity to speak with her about the Christian religion, at first to better understand the woman he loved, but then, as they talked more and more, she could see the dawning comprehension in his eyes. He was hungering for a peace that only Christ could give.
The Pax Romana, Roman Peace, had brought nothing but savage oppression. True peace was a matter of the heart. Those enslaved to Rome might obey and serve, but an underlying fomenting of rebellion was always just beneath the surface.
Christ-centered peace was a total surrender of the will and came with knowing that you were right with the God who had created you, the God who created a world of order and harmony. Even when surrounded by war, famine, pestilence or other such calamities, there was the serenity of knowing that you could never be taken from the hand of Elohim.
She glanced at Andronicus and her heart responded as it always did when he was near. She knew without a doubt that she would die for him, but she could not live for him. As much as she loved him, she would never allow anything to come between her and the peace she had found in Jesus. How was it that after a few short days Crassus could see what years had not made clear to Andronicus?
Didius brought her a bowl of goat’s milk and she thanked him, but she set it aside with a still shaking hand. After such a long time of screaming, Hazaq was sleeping the sleep of the exhausted and she was reluctant to wake him. She would save the milk for when he awoke.
Andronicus made Crassus comfortable near the fire. Despite the oppressive heat, with Crassus being injured, he would surely feel chilled.
The others took the time to move the bodies of those slain to outside of the camp. Tapat had no idea what they were going to do with them. Frankly, she didn’t even want to think of it right now. Those sightless eyes were going to haunt her dreams for years to come.
Her people, but not her people. They shared the same race, but not the same beliefs. Still, even though they rejected His Son, she knew they were beloved by Elohim, as were these heathen Romans.
Andronicus gave assignments for the night watch. She noticed that Arius had yet to let down his guard. He stood tensely, searching the area just beyond the perimeter of the firelight. It didn’t surprise her that he would wish to continue his watch. Like everyone else, except Hazaq, their nerves were too taut for immediate sleep.
Salvius and Didius set up the tent, and Andronicus came and held out his hand to help her to her feet.
When she placed her hand in his, she felt again that connection that so confused her. He was the only man who had ever made her feel warm and safe yet, paradoxically, unsettled and apprehensive.
He pulled her to her feet but didn’t release her right away. She could see all kinds of questions forming in his eyes, questions she was afraid to answer; some she had no answer for.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked, glancing over her again. “You’re still shaking.”
She tugged her hand loose and pulled her gaze away. “I am well.”
She could see he continued to search her with narrowed eyes. “I am sorry that you had to witness that.”
When
she didn’t answer, he reached down and picked up the bowl of milk. She walked toward the tent and he followed. She settled on the blanket that had been positioned inside and Andronicus placed the bowl to the side. He then seated himself outside the front entrance.
She could see that he wanted to talk, but her emotions were too raw for her to think clearly. In this state, she would be no match for him if he decided to delve for information.
“I think I will try to get some sleep while Hazaq is doing so,” she told him. His tilted smile told her that she hadn’t fooled him.
“That’s a good idea,” he agreed. “I will be here if you need anything.”
The silence thrummed between them like an overtightened lyre.
Tapat curled onto the blanket and tried to sleep. An unending stream of images of the day’s events kept flashing through her thoughts. She tried to block out the horrific pictures—men in battle, men falling bloody to the ground, the angry Jew who had tried to kill her—but they refused to be stopped.
She finally turned to the only avenue that always brought her peace; she prayed. She prayed for Crassus especially, but also for the rest of them, and that the rest of their journey would be without further hazards.
Elohim had spared Hazaq and she was thankful. She only prayed that He would do the same for the young Roman. She still had so much more to tell him.
Eventually her brain took control and sent her into a deep, cathartic sleep.
* * *
Andronicus could hear the change in Tapat’s breathing and knew that she was finally asleep.
He hadn’t missed the fact that she hadn’t wanted to talk to him. She could talk to Crassus for hours on end, but she closed up like a clam whenever he was around. What did they find to talk about that was so interesting? He really wanted to know. He wanted Tapat to open up to him in the same way, and he wanted to see her eyes sparkle with the same shared excitement.
He sat watching her slumber for a long time. Unlike Tapat, his tense nerves fought sleep.
One by one his men finally dozed off, their twitching eyes signaling that their sleep was light. The day’s events had put them on guard and it would be some time before they would sleep deeply again.
As for himself, he had no concern that anything more would happen this evening. With Arius on guard, nothing would be able to sneak up on them again tonight. The man could scent an adversary half a league away.
The air grew chillier as the night progressed, a sure sign that they were getting closer to the Jordan River. He leaned into the tent and pulled a blanket over Tapat and the babe.
He brushed the hair away from her face and allowed his fingers to gently glide across her cheek. The action caused her lips to part softly and he jerked his hand away as though burned. His heart, which had finally settled from its erratic beat, once again took up its drumming rhythm.
Shaking his head to clear it of the fog that seemed to be encroaching into his mind, he quickly got up and went to check on Crassus. If the young man could make it through the night without a fever, there was every chance that he wouldn’t get one.
He found Crassus awake, his jaw clenched as he tried to hold back any sound that would give away the pain he was in. Andronicus knelt beside him.
“How bad is it?” he asked, wishing that he had thought to bring along some mandragora root. He hadn’t given the journey enough thought, believing they would make the trip uneventfully to Pella in just a few days.
“I’ve had worse.”
Not to Andronicus’s recollection, but he wouldn’t argue with him, knowing he was trying to make light of a trying situation.
Andronicus felt his forehead, relieved that there was still no sign of fever.
“Try to sleep,” he admonished softly, hoping that exhaustion would allow Crassus a brief respite from the pain.
Crassus nodded, closing his eyes, more to block out the throbbing, Andronicus was sure, than in belief sleep would come.
He went back to sit outside Tapat’s tent. The thought that he had nearly lost her today left him feeling unsettled. He found himself wanting to constantly reach out and touch her just to assure himself that she was, indeed, alive and well.
Hazaq began to stir. Afraid that he would awaken Tapat, and knowing that she needed the sleep, he ducked inside the tent and gently lifted the babe from her side. Tapat frowned in her sleep, moving slightly, and then quieted again.
Slowly releasing a breath, Andronicus hugged the babe close to his side, bent to retrieve the bowl of goat’s milk and then took himself outside the tent again.
He sat cross-legged outside the entrance, setting the bowl with the stylus next to him.
Hazaq began squirming more intently, his little face scrunching up into a frown. A sound like the mewling of a cat preceded the opening of his dark, almond eyes.
He blinked up at Andronicus, the frown replaced by a toothless smile. It was at that moment that Andronicus hopelessly lost his heart.
“Hello, little man,” he crooned. “Are you hungry?”
He took the stylus and, having seen the way Tapat and Crassus fed the child, managed to give a fairly good attempt. Each day, each hour in fact, saw the child growing stronger and he knew that it had much more to do with Tapat’s love and care than anything else.
A long-forgotten memory pushed past the barriers he had erected in his mind. Andronicus was just a boy, still living at home. His mother had a babe, holding it out to his father. His father had folded his arms across his chest, refusing to hold him or give him a name, thereby indicating that the child was not accepted as his son.
His mother had wept softly, but her tears had left his father unmoved. He had ordered the babe taken outside the city and left on the rocks to die. And all because the babe was missing a hand.
It was the Roman way.
Staring down into the face of Hazaq, Andronicus felt those same feelings rush upon him that had swamped him all those years ago—anger and resentment. Had he not been born whole and strong, he would have been rejected, as well.
Perhaps that was why he fought so hard to be the best that he could be in everything he did. Rome would have no compunction about throwing away anything, or anyone, who didn’t live up to her standards.
He looked again at Tapat sleeping so peacefully and knew without a doubt that she would never throw away a child no matter what might be wrong with it. Just as she had refused to throw away her mother.
A love so fierce it defied description flowed through him in wave upon wave. He wanted to take her in his arms and hold her forever, protect her from everything.
Chapter 12
Tapat followed along behind the litter carrying Crassus, flinching with him at every bump and rock that jarred the conveyance. His white face and clenched teeth gave mute evidence of the great pain he was in.
She had hoped to find some of the plant that Leah’s father, who was a healer, had used to make a balm of oil that he mixed with wine as a sedative. She was uncertain of its actual name, but her people had always called it the balm of Gilead.
Levi taught her how to make the tinctures as well, and she had made use of the knowledge to supply the sedative to those suffering in the Valley of Lepers.
With the arid land drying up earlier than usual because of the intense heat of the sharav, the resinous plant was hard to find.
She hoped that the closer they got to the Jordan River, the more abundant the plant might be so she could prepare a sedative to give Crassus some relief from the pain. She would also prepare a balm to replace the salt on his raw burn.
One thing she looked forward to was being able to immerse herself in the river’s cool waters and cleanse herself for the first time in days.
Hazaq had run out of clean swaddling cloths. If she couldn’t clean his wraps soon, he would begin to chaf
e and develop sores.
Andronicus glanced back at Crassus and then at her. Something in his intense expression made her heart stutter, but he turned back without saying a word.
The others constantly searched the area for hidden enemies. The closer they got to the Jordan River, the less likely they would be to encounter nomad Jews. Also, as they neared the plains near the river, the intense heat from the sharav lessened.
They finally stopped about midday so that Tapat could feed Hazaq.
Didius made certain that Crassus was situated in the shade of an acacia tree, and Tapat joined him there hoping to help somewhat take his mind off of his pain.
He was staring morosely at the surrounding desert, his mind obviously on something else entirely. She thought she probably knew exactly where that mind was. When he spoke, she was sure of it.
“If I had died, I wonder if Lydia would even have cared.”
If Lydia didn’t see what a wonderful man Crassus was, she didn’t deserve him, but Tapat refrained from saying so. Strange how she had been able to overcome her aversion to the Romans in such a short time. Even the surly and remote Arius had managed to worm his way inside her good graces. Perhaps it had started years ago when she had become enamored of a certain Roman soldier herself.
“I have never met your Lydia,” she told him, “but if she is as wonderful as you say, I am sure her feelings would truly be wounded if anything were to happen to you. How could she not? You are a wonderful young man.”
Crassus’s look went over her shoulder and she turned slowly to find Andronicus standing behind them. The look of fire in his eyes made her tense. What had she done to provoke such a look?
“Feed the babe quickly. We need to be on our way as soon as possible. I want to be across the Jordan Valley before night falls.”
He turned on his heels and strode away. Crassus and Tapat exchanged astonished looks. Shrugging her shoulders, Tapat made haste to do as Andronicus suggested. If Crassus didn’t understand his commander after years of being in his service, there was no way that she could.
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