“I directed my anger at my father for the past year. But I’m beginning to think I was too hard on him.”
“The person you are too hard on is yourself.”
He opened his mouth to argue, then clamped his teeth together. What did she see when she looked at him? A young, sheltered, rich priest who held his sword like a girl, begging for her trust. That might be true, but not going forward. He wouldn’t stop until he could defend himself and his loved ones. “The truth is I haven’t been half tough enough on myself.”
Shoshana regarded him out of sad eyes. “Would you like more wine?”
He shook his head and handed her the cup. “It’s getting late, and tomorrow promises to be another long day.”
“Good night,” she said standing. “Can I get you anything else?”
A woman like you as my wife, was the answer the jumped into his mind. Kind, capable, loyal to her family, brave, and beautiful, Shoshana was everything he wanted in a woman. “You and your family have been more than gracious. Thank for your hospitality.”
She offered him a fleeting smile, then retreated to the back caverns.
Gabriel stretched out beside his brother on the thin, hard bedroll.
Leonidas rolled onto his side and pushed his unruly hair away from his face. “Did you learn any more about Rahm or convince Shoshana to reveal any deep, dark secrets?” he asked, yawning.
The bandage tied about Gabriel’s palm chafed the half-healed rope burn. “I’m not going to press the issue anymore. Shoshana made it clear the family can take care of their affairs without our help.”
Leonidas knuckled his eyes. “Isaac might slip and say something if I quiz him.”
Shadows cast by a lone oil lamp wavered on the stone ceiling overhead. Gabriel had never felt more out of his element. “Leave it alone.”
Silence followed. The results were never good when his talkative brother allowed him the last word. “Did you hear me, Leonidas?”
The question was greeted with soft snores. Gabriel pressed his lips together. The taste of cinnamon and cloves lingered, conjuring up images of Shoshana’s kissable mouth. His blood heated. The portion of his mind ruled by propriety protested. Don’t think about kissing her. A task he feared would be practically impossible.
CHAPTER 14
By the end of the next day the supplies had been purchased and stood ready to be loaded onto the mules. Exhausted from hurrying to complete the transactions before the start of Shabbat and racing the setting sun, Gabriel followed his brother and Big Lev through Noach’s front door with some reservations. The coming night and day could prove awkward if Noach’s family didn’t observe Shabbat in the same fastidious fashion he and Leonidas did.
Greeted by the smell of baking bread and roasted meat, his stomach growled. He immediately looked for Shoshana, and saw her, face flushed, pulling a pie from the oven. Their eyes locked briefly. Shoshana turned away first. Gabriel swallowed.
Mother of mercy. He shouldn’t be gawking at her just two heartbeats after entering the room. And he shouldn’t have felt bereft this morning when Big Lev accompanied them into the city instead of Shoshana. And he shouldn’t have allowed his thoughts to dwell on her throughout the day.
What was wrong with him? He was usually more disciplined than this. He needed to stop feeding the attraction, and he needed to do it now.
Noach emerged from the back rooms wearing a white tunic, making the rangy man look even taller and leaner. His wrinkled face lit with a smile. “Good Shabbat. You have just enough time to change clothes. We can find Shabbat tunics for you, unless you brought your own.”
The tension went out of Gabriel’s shoulders. He’d planned to purchase tunics while they were out, but ran out of time. He’d worn a white tunic on the first day of the week every Shabbat of his life. “Good Shabbat to you as well. Where do we change?”
“Isaac will show you back to Shoshana’s room.”
Answering the summons, the round-faced boy stopped rooting around in the niche holding his collection of treasures and hobbled to the craggy opening at the back of the cave. Gabriel and Leonidas joined Isaac.
When they stepped through the curtain, cold air and naked rock walls closed around them. Darkness nipped at the sputtering light from a pair of ancient brass lamps hanging from the low ceiling. Isaac led them down a short corridor, limping on his lame ankle. Gabriel was tempted to tell the boy they’d manage without him, but held his tongue, following the example of the family, who never babied Isaac or treated him differently.
The corridor forked, and a short passage to the right emptied into a small chamber smelling of wild flowers. A handful of delicate white lamps lit the room. White woven rugs and blankets covered the walls and bed. Though threadbare, they were clean.
“Aunt Shosha sprinkled flowers in the lamp oil,” Isaac said, wrinkling his nose. “She does that when she’s extra sad or happy.”
Gabriel’s gaze went from moss-green pillows propped on the narrow platform bed, to a chipped vase holding a clutch of dried, bell-shaped lilies, and then to the colorful scarfs draped over a wooden peg. The wealth of soft touches came as a surprise.
Her gnarled wooden club stood like a sentry next to her bed. Gabriel smiled. Shoshana was a lovely contradiction, a mix of softness and toughness waiting to be explored.
He made note of the miniature brazier resting on a table near the foot of the bed. It told him she had chosen to sit with him by the oven last night, sipping her spiced wine, instead of retreating to this comfortable oasis. His blood heated. Good angels in heaven, the thought of her tucked up in this bedchamber was going to torture him for months to come.
Isaac limped across the carpeted floor and dug through a basket of folded clothes. Reaching the bottom, he pulled out one white tunic, then another. “These were John’s...I mean Rahm’s.”
Gabriel’s stomach curdled.
Isaac shoved the clothes at them and headed back to the corridor. “My mother’s Shabbat pies are the most delicious pies in Samaria.” The boy paused in the doorway. “Keep the tunics. Rahm is never coming back for them.” Then he turned and hurried away.
Leonidas shook out the linen garment and held it to his chest. “We’re going to swim in these.”
Mind revolting against the image of Shoshana and Rahm sharing this bedchamber as husband and wife, Gabriel reluctantly removed his clothes and donned Rahm’s tunic. The linen carried the faint scent of sweat. Sickened, he skimmed his finger over the chipped vase next to Shoshana’s bed.
Brave and beautiful, Shoshana had been set aside on a shelf to wither and die like a forgotten bouquet of flowers. It was beyond cruel of Rahm to abandon Shoshana and not give her a bill of divorce. Many women suffered the same fate, but Gabriel hadn’t given it much thought before now. He hated it for Shoshana. She ought to have the opportunity to remarry.
Not that it would do Gabriel any good. Priests couldn’t marry where they wanted. Marriage to a divorced woman who also happened to be a Samaritan was out of the question.
Leonidas bumped Gabriel’s arm. “Don’t you find it strange knowing horns are sounding in Jerusalem announcing the start of Shabbat? Yet here we are in Samaria.”
Gabriel scrubbed his face. The injustice of Shoshana’s fate was not his battle. “Do you wish you were back in Jerusalem?”
“Don’t tell anyone, but everything in me says I will never return to Jerusalem to live.”
Gabriel grew ill at ease. “Don’t say that. I promised mother I’d return you home safe and sound. It’s a promise I intend to keep.”
Leonidas shrugged. “Maybe I will go to live on our olive farm in Galilee and become an olive farmer.”
“An olive farmer?” Gabriel repeated in disbelief.
Jacob stuck his hooked nose around the corner. “My mother is ready to light the Shabbat lamp.”
Gabriel and Leonidas followed Jacob into the main chamber.
The room had undergone a transformation. A square of white linen replaced
the simple reed mat. Plates and bowls of finer quality than the everyday dishes stood ready. A feast of steaming meat pies, mouth-watering loaves of rye bread, and pitchers of wine awaited. Clothed in white, Shoshana and the others sat on mats, waiting for them. Once they were seated, Naomi lit a taper from a palm-sized lamp at her elbow and held the flaming brand to the squat brass lamp dominating the center of the table.
Gabriel and Leonidas lifted their cups with the family and recited a familiar prayer. And there was evening. And there was morning, a sixth day.
Gabriel’s thoughts went to his mother and father and brothers and Elizabeth and Helen, who were sharing a Shabbat meal in Jerusalem. Their clothes would be more expensive, and they would be eating from finer ware, and lighting a golden, seven-branched lamp. Yet he doubted he’d feel any more at home there than he did in this cave home, among these Samaritans.
Shoshana stared at him over the lamp and he stared back. And Leonidas’s confession echoed through him. Everything in me says I won’t return to Jerusalem to live.
He shouldn’t read too much in to it. It wasn’t as if his brother was a prophet. Except an indistinct fear reverberated deep within.
***
The Shabbat meal finished, everyone moved to the cushions arranged about the oven to enjoy the last of the heat before the coals went cold. This was usually Shoshana’s favorite time of week. The Shabbat rest allowed them to sit and talk and enjoy each other’s company.
But Gabriel and Leonidas’s presence had her on edge. Her gaze slid to Gabriel again. His intent amber eyes remained on her for a few long heartbeats before returning to her grandfather.
Cheeks heating, she looked down at her lap and wet her lips. The stirring he caused in her was indecent. That the attraction was mutual only made matters worse. She was almost ten years older than the young prince. What could he possibly see in her?
His notice would be easy to resist if he was the foolish, coddled boy she’d first supposed. But the opposite was true. Gabriel was bold and noble and kind, and much more. Calling him young prince wasn’t fair. But she planned to cling to the falsehood like an angel-kissed patch of refuge.
“We could be in any home in Judea,” Leonidas said, full of enthusiasm. “You observe Shabbat the same way we do.”
Jacob scowled at Leonidas. “We’re not barbarians.”
Leonidas’s smile dimmed. “I meant to compliment you.”
Jacob stuck his beaky nose in the air. “You Judeans always think you are more holy and better than us because you have a Temple to the Lord and we don’t.”
“Samaritans are welcome to worship on our holy mount,” Leonidas said with a wounded look. “If you agree to renounce Mount Gerizim.”
Jacob made a sound of disgust. “We worship on the true—”
“Grandson, you’ve no call to insult our guests.”
Jacob ducked his head. “I’m sorry, Grandfather,” he mumbled.
Naomi sighed. “Your father would be disappointed.”
Jacob’s narrow shoulders hitched. “Father believed Mount Gerizim was the true mount of the Lord.”
Shoshana wanted to pull Jacob into her lap to hug and console him like she had when he was a little boy. He hadn’t started life as a prickly, unhappy child. Her brother’s drawn-out, painful death had been hard on everyone, but Jacob had taken it particularly hard.
“No harm was done,” Gabriel said. “We aren’t insulted.”
Shoshana gave him a grateful smile. His lips curved with a breath-stealing mile, making her pulse jump.
Her grandfather fluttered his fingers at Isaac. “Be a good boy and go fetch my scroll.”
Isaac yelped in pleasure and leaped to obey.
Gabriel and Leonidas both winced as they watched her nephew limp away.
Shoshana hugged her arms. “My brother hoped Isaac would learn to read and write. We almost have enough saved for the tutor. But we also want Isaac to be ready for a life of labor, in case he doesn’t enjoy bookwork.”
Gabriel nodded. “That’s wise. I’d like to help.”
Shoshana wrinkled her nose, not wanting to prolong an acquaintance that made her distinctly uncomfortable. “Thank you, but no.”
“Consider it a reward, then,” Gabriel said.
She’d already bruised his feelings by refusing to listen to his offer concerning their difficulties with Rahm. Still, she hesitated, not ready to relent, afraid if she started saying yes to Gabriel Onias she would never stop.
“We will consider it a gift from friends,” Grandfather said, patting her back comfortingly.
Isaac hobbled to her grandfather’s side, cradling the wooden spindles of the scroll. His round face barely contained his smile. “Show Gabriel and Leonidas my name.”
Shoshana bit her lip to stifle her protest. She doubted the list of names on the scroll would impress Gabriel and Leonidas, but her grandfather got such joy from sharing them, she didn’t have the heart to interfere.
Her grandfather chuckled. “Show them yourself, my eager grandson.”
Isaac’s joy proved infectious. Grins prevailed as Gabriel, with immense care, laid the scroll on a clean mat and rolled the wood dowels apart. Black, curly lines and assorted dots lined the yellowed parchment.
Isaac leaned over Gabriel’s shoulder and pointed. “Do you see my name?”
Gabriel squinted. “Ahhhh...Yes. It says Bald Noah, son of Toothless Zebulon, son of The Glutton Ezekiel?”
Shoshana smiled while Isaac gave a great belly laugh. “Nooo...Isaac son of Benjamin, that’s what it says.”
Gabriel smacked his palm against his forehead. “Of course, I read the wrong line. Bald Noah is one line above your name.”
Isaac pointed his finger at his brother and laughed.
Jacob, more dignified at age fourteen, merely grinned from ear to ear. “You read it wrong. ‘Sheep-breath Isaac,’ that’s what it says.”
Grandfather and Big Lev shook with laughter and Naomi beamed at Gabriel and the boys. Gabriel put his finger to his smiling lips, quieting the boys before they got out of hand.
Unable to recall the last time the family had spent such a joyous evening, Shoshana wanted to throw her arms around his neck. Almost as if he heard her thought, Gabriel’s gaze met hers. Heat rushed to her face.
Grandfather wiped his eyes. “Gabriel, I thought your brother was the silver-tongued charmer. Now I see where he got his wit.”
Beaming with pride, Leonidas studied the scroll and whistled his appreciation. “Your genealogy. This must go back hundreds of years.”
Grandfather grew serious. “Unroll the scroll some more, please.”
Gabriel handled the family’s precious treasure with due caution, spreading the scroll wider and wider. “That’s far enough,” Grandfather said. “Do you see the name Joseph son of Sadoc?”
Gabriel’s eyes scanned the ancient parchment. “I do.”
“Joseph was the last member of my family to offer sacrifices at our Temple on Mount Gerizim.”
Leonidas blinked. “You come from a priestly line?”
Gabriel stilled. Shoshana held her breath. He claimed he didn’t despise Samaritans, but he might feel differently now he knew of her family’s close association with the Temple on Mount Gerizim, the central dispute in the long-standing disdain between Judeans and Samaritans.
The division began under the kings of old when the nation split into northern and southern kingdoms. The crack widened in the face of foreign invasions and forced deportations to the east. In Samaria, the Assyrian conquerors peopled the land with Greek-speakers called Cutheans, who intermarried with the Israelites. Shoshana’s forefathers, poor priests of no consequence, refused to intermingle with idol worshipers. Nothing pleased her grandfather more than unfurling the cherished scroll, and offering it as proof of the family’s untainted bloodlines.
Of course, they’d never before entertained priests from Jerusalem, especially ones born to an aristocratic family. Gabriel’s ancestors had been carried off
to Babylonia when the southern kingdom of Judea fell. They returned to Judea seventy years later with permission to rebuild the Temple in Jerusalem. Disputes arose when the repatriated priests insisted that the priests who had intermarried with the Cutheans must divorce their foreign wives. Most refused. The rebellious priests fled to Samaria instead, and eventually built their own Temple on Mount Gerizim. An exact replica of the Temple in Jerusalem, it stood for two hundred years until it was destroyed by the Hasmoneans.
Using utmost care, Gabriel rolled the scroll up and handed it back to Isaac. “I can’t help wondering why your family gave loyalty to Mount Gerizim if you didn’t intermarry.” His voice held a note of caution rather than hostility.
Grandfather stroked his beard. “My grandfather told me it came about when one brother who was married to a woman from a family of Greek converts refused to divorce and renounce his children and joined the priests at Mount Gerizim. The other brother, our ancestor, followed. I can point out his name.”
“There’s no need.” Gabriel said. “The man has my sympathies. War and its aftermath turn right and wrong on end, putting families and individuals in difficult positions, requiring difficult, if not impossible, choices.”
“I thought you’d understand,” grandfather said with a twinkle in his eyes.
Shoshana’s trepidation gave way to compassion. Gabriel had a kind heart. He cherished his family. Leaving them behind must have been unbearably painful. Her family was her solace. A break or split with them would devastate her at a soul-deep level.
Gabriel raked his fingers through his thick brown hair. “If we weren’t parting ways soon, I’d be happy to take on the enjoyable task of teaching your grandsons to read.”
Jacob eyed Gabriel with suspicion. “You would?”
“Unless you are as stubborn as Ahab the mule, I don’t see why I couldn’t,” Gabriel said.
Jacob’s frown fell away. “I’ll ride Ahab and give you my mule. Old Job is too slow for me, anyway.”
Isaac hugged the scroll to his small chest. “I wish you didn’t have to return to Herod’s camp.”
Warring Desires (The Herod Chronicles Book 3) Page 10
