“Tobias and the common people don’t despise the Sadducees because you are rich and they are poor.”
Gabriel scrubbed his face in frustration. “Then why do they hate us?”
A long silence passed. Nathan shifted in his saddle. “The problem lies in how you acquire your wealth.”
Gabriel had never considered the source of his family’s vast estate. “We supply the ritual oil for the Temple.”
“It’s not just you. High Priest Hasmond’s family and friends have grown fat with riches supplying the wood for the sacrifices, the straw for the Temple animals, the incense for the altar, and the unblemished doves, bulls, and lambs. It wouldn’t hurt to share the abundance.”
“What about the purity statues?” Gabriel replied defensively. “How else can we ensure the sacrifices are acceptable?”
Nathan’s expression turned stony. “My father produced premium olive oil. He loved the Lord and would have shown as great a care as your family does to follow the purity practices. But he was never given the opportunity to present his oil for consideration. I have followed in my father’s footsteps. Do you believe High Priest Hasmond would allow me to provide the oil for the Temple?”
Gabriel fingered the leather of his costly scabbard. He had lived his life with a blindfold on. Spent coins without a thought as to how they ended up in his pocket. Did his father and Andrew ever give the poor priests a thought? The family gave alms to the poor, but it was more a matter of duty than conscience. “Thank you for being honest with me. I’ve taken my family’s wealth and privilege for granted. Never considered the right and wrong of it.”
Nathan exhaled heavily. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. The wrongs go deeper than you or I can fix.”
“Herod will put an end to the corruption once he comes to power.”
“I wouldn’t count on it.”
“Then why are you and most of Galilee supporting Herod?”
Nathan stroked the sleek neck of the war-horse he called Royal. “The Romans might tax us heavily, but the Parthian army acted worse than criminal brutes, burning and raping and pillaging their way through the countryside while High Priest Hasmond looked the other way.” Nathan winced. “But I don’t have to tell you that.”
Pain and anger slashed knife-like through Gabriel as he recalled the callous indifference on the face of the four Parthian soldiers who raided his home and terrorized his family. He gripped the handle of the heavy sword hanging from his side and peered at the crystal waters of the Sea of Galilee and the blunt-nosed bluff of Mount Arbel, a mountain overrun by an army of rebels who would rather die than allow Herod to become king. “The Herod haters wouldn’t agree.”
Commander Obodas circled back and pointed toward Mount Arbel. “Am I seeing things right? Those black pockmarks scarring the rock face...are they the caves the fighters are hiding in?”
Nathan’s expression darkened. “I’m afraid so. Whole families take shelter there, and the caves are stocked with food. The fighters will remain in hiding until the war ends, and then emerge to wreak havoc.”
“Havoc?” Gabriel asked.
“Return to waging war against Herod. Herod means to put an end to the rebellion for good,” Nathan said, face somber.
“You have doubts?”
“Herod is doing what he has to. And so am I. I hoped I’d never have to lift my sword against my countrymen, but the war came and forced me to choose sides.”
Gabriel rubbed his nape. His knowledge of Samaria or Galilee had been shallow and misinformed. He’d charged off to join a war he didn’t fully understand. “I wouldn’t blame you if you think I’m a simple-minded peacock.”
Nathan tugged on Gabriel’s sleeve. “I wasn’t fooled by your fancy clothes and pretty face.”
“Pretty face?” Gabriel complained.
“It’s the hair,” Commander Obodas said, grinning.
Gabriel smiled, but he couldn’t help comparing himself to Nathan and Commander Obodas. He doubted anyone had ever told them they held a sword like a girl.
“I feared you and Leonidas might be too soft, but—” Nathan nodded at Mount Arbel. “Those caves will put you to the test.”
Gabriel spotted a rider charging headlong across the plain toward them, and tensed. “Trouble is headed this direction.”
“It’s one of our men,” Commander Obodas said.
They urged their mounts forward to intercept the rider, and a moment later they all came to a dusty halt.
“What’s wrong?” Commander Obodas demanded of Jal.
The veteran soldier’s scarred face was as intent as it was serious. He hitched his thumb over his shoulder. “What remains of Hasmond’s northern army has turned back to fight. They’ve taken a stand outside the village of Arbela. King Herod wants you on the front line now. He’s giving you charge of the right wing. But I doubt the battle will wait.”
“How many men do they have?” Commander Obodas asked.
Jal turned his horse in the direction he had come. “Close to our fifteen hundred, unless there are more of them hiding in the village.”
Nathan glanced at Gabriel. “Be prepared to jump into the fray and bloody your sword.”
Gabriel’s heart pumped double-time with the urgency to reunite with Leonidas. “Will we be able to find our unit?”
“We’ll try,” Nathan said.
CHAPTER 23
The village Of Arbela sat at the summit of Mount Arbel. The cold wind buffeting the Sea of Galilee carried the hideous sounds of death cries and the clashing of swords, but the skirmish remained out of sight. Gabriel’s heavy sword thumped against his thigh while his sturdy mule climbed up toward the plateau. The circuitous route from the valley floor to the flat plateau above lasted far too long. Eager to reach Leonidas’s side, he didn’t have time to enjoy or fear the sight of the ground speeding past his feet.
Gabriel, Nathan, and Commander Obodas rode over a rise and were greeted by the sight of pitched warfare on the outskirts of a ramshackle village. Gabriel’s pulse leaped. He searched the right wing for Leonidas’s shock of unruly curls among the helmeted heads, but the task was hopeless.
Nathan directed Royal toward the heart of the melee, and Gabriel followed. They closed on the battle. The stink of dirt, sweat, blood, and other bodily fluids filled the air.
Gabriel’s mule came to an abrupt halt without warning, almost unseating him. The war-horses raced on. Gabriel snapped the bridle and dug his heels into the mule’s sides, but the stubborn beast refused to move.
“Mother of mercy!” he said exasperated, giving grudging respect to the mule for recognizing the danger and being sensible enough to avoid it. Gabriel slid to the ground, yanked his sword free, and charged up the hard-packed road.
He didn’t think he’d ever reach the roiling ocean of heads and arms, clashing swords, and clanging shields. Winded, he stopped at the edge of the fray and scanned the seething mass for his brother. A bloodcurdling scream pierced the clamor. His instincts roared at him to bolt for safety, but he held his ground.
Herod’s left line was struggling. Manned by Herod’s cohort of mercenary soldiers hailing from Gaul and Thrace, their ferocity inspired Gabriel to give them a wide berth while he was in camp, but he didn’t need to be a military strategist to know Herod’s army would be in deep trouble if the mercenaries gave way.
Heart slamming, Gabriel hefted his sword. Someone tugged on his sleeve from behind. He spun around, ready to strike
Shield raised in a defensive stance, Nathan nodded in the direction of the mercenaries and shouted over the melee, “Come with us!”
Jal shoved a beat-up rectangular shield at Gabriel. “Keep your shield up. We don’t want to see that pretty face of yours ruined.”
Flanked by Nathan and Jal, Gabriel charged toward the weakest part of the line. Among the most talented soldiers in Herod’s army, both men bore horrific scars from past wars. He glanced back, regretful Leonidas wasn’t enjoying the same protection. “The Lord watch over us b
oth,” he murmured.
Nathan’s elbow jabbed his. “Your brother can take care of himself. Look out for your own neck.”
Steps away from the enemy, Jal’s ear-splitting ululation filled the air, and the scar-faced man slammed shields with an opposing soldier.
A dirt-caked man brandishing a bloodied sword locked eyes with Gabriel. The determination and hate in the soldier’s eyes weakened Gabriel’s knees. His grip on his sword felt wrong. He lifted his shield higher. Or was he supposed to carry it lower? The man crashed into Gabriel. Caught off guard by the force of the blow, Gabriel staggered back. Metal flashed, missing his nose by a whisker.
He flinched and raised his shield. The dirt-caked man drew his sword back, a triumphant smile crossing his face at the prospect of gutting Gabriel’s exposed belly. Then the light went out of his eyes and he crumpled to the ground. Nathan stood over the dead man.
Mouth coated with the acrid taste of fear, Gabriel swallowed.
Nathan braced his foot on the fallen man, pulled his sword free, and stabbed the air with the bloody tip. “Attack first! Make them react to you.” His handsome features had warped to a sharp-edged menace and a frightening savagery shone in his eyes. The Angel of Death had come to life.
Jal grabbed Gabriel by the elbow and pushed him at an Idumean veteran defending against two wild-eyed men. “We need you in the fight.”
Hands shaky, Gabriel re-gripped his sword and shield. Determined not to fail Nathan and Jal, he swung his sword with his entire might at a beefy soldier. The man twisted to the side and took the blade in his lower back. The blow sent a tingling jolt up Gabriel’s arm and wrenched a harsh cry from his opponent’s mouth. The man slid boneless to the ground and a red pool formed under his sprawled body.
A moment’s horror over killing his first man vanished with the flash of a sword slashing toward his head. He knocked aside the length of metal with his shield and thrust his blade up under the other man’s leather breastplate. Hot blood rushed over his forearm. He freed the sword and turned to the next soldier trying to kill him.
He blocked and swung and blocked and swung for what seemed like hours.
“Our left flank is buckling,” he heard Nathan shout over the ringing in his ears.
Herod’s men turned and ran from a tide of enemy soldiers. The line crumbled chunks at a time, rolling toward them like a consuming wall of water.
“Stand your ground!” Nathan and Jal shouted, continuing to press forward, despite the grim odds.
Arms and legs feeling heavy as stone pillars, Gabriel used the last of his strength to push back against the newly invigorated enemy.
The rebel soldier across from him flicked his sword under Gabriel’s shield, trying to slice his legs. Gabriel knocked the man on his backside.
A cacophony of cries came from the far right. He prayed the right flank hadn’t collapsed. All would be lost. And Leonidas might already be dead. The thought hurt like a knife to his heart. The noise escalated.
Gabriel spotted Herod leading a charge to bolster the left line. Leonidas occupied the near end of the swinging line. Unruly hair sticking out at angles from his helmet, blood splotching his face and armor, and mouth roaring a war cry, Leonidas outpaced his companions, making a tempting target. Opposing soldier after opposing soldier veered toward his little brother.
Heart in his throat, Gabriel watched helpless as Leonidas crashed into the first knot of men, bent on killing him.
Leonidas attacked like he’d been born with a sword in his hand, making his opponents fall back on their heels. A trio of giants stalked him, but he dodged their blows again and again. Exalted cheers arose. More enemy soldiers converged on Leonidas.
Hurrying to take advantage of the distraction, Herod and Commander Obodas arrived at Leonidas’s side with the right wing of the army in tow and began cutting the down men.
Both proud and horrified by Leonidas’s brave, reckless display, Gabriel threw himself into the battle beside Nathan and Jal, working to close the noose around the rebel army.
The enemy grew weaker and weaker, then finally broke and ran back toward the village in disarray.
Herod’s army followed and branched out through the narrow, winding lanes. Gabriel gave chase down a series of abandoned alleys. But the enemy had disappeared, and the village was strangely quiet.
Bursting out into an open square, he spotted Leonidas sitting cross-legged next to the village well, holding his head. Commander Obodas and Herod stood over Leonidas, laughing at something he said. Gabriel ought to be reassured by the smiles, but ran as fast as his legs would take him to Leonidas’s side.
Gabriel dropped to his knees. “Are you injured?”
Leonidas pointed to the large red knot bulging from his forehead. “I got hit by a rock.”
“A rock?” Gabriel asked, confused.
“Boys from the village were waiting on the roofs,” Commander Obodas explained, pointing to the rooftops. “They pelted us as we ran by.”
Leonidas made a face. “Flattened me cold, like the time Andrew and I crashed heads when we both reached for that bag of honeycomb.”
Gabriel exhaled a relieved breath. “It’s probably too much to hope it knocked some sense into you?”
A lop-sided grin crossed Leonidas’s face. “You saw?”
Gabriel wanted to wrap Leonidas up in a crushing hug. “I thought I was seeing Samson or David charging at the enemy, but no, it was my baby brother rushing in where angels fear to tread.”
Leonidas sobered. “You won’t tell mother?”
Gabriel gave Leonidas’s chest a light punch. “I won’t. Just promise me you won’t do anything like that again.”
Herod squeezed Leonidas’s shoulder. “Take it slow the next few days. I want you ready for the next task I have in mind for you.”
Gabriel frowned. “What task?”
Herod nodded at the rocky plateau shadowing the village. “Assaulting the cliff caves.”
Commander Obodas wagged his brows. “We’ll have to build wooden engines and lower men down in baskets.”
“Baskets? Hanging from ropes?” Gabriel asked, not believing his ears.
“Like birds flying through the sky,” Leonidas exclaimed.
Herod smiled. “You both proved your mettle today. I won’t forget it. But you aren’t the only ones capable of brave deeds. Hasmond’s rebel army fights like warriors and possess the boldness of robbers. Even as we speak, they are scurrying back to the safety of the caves. Galilee won’t know peace until those caves are cleared.”
Gabriel stood and glanced around. Blood stained the ground and men lay scattered everywhere. Helping Leonidas to his feet, he found solace in the bloodied sword still clutched in his hand. Today’s battle proved he could protect his loved ones, and they were never far from his mind. Helen, Elizabeth, his mother. And Shoshana. He drew his strength from them and knew he would act in the same reckless fashion as Leonidas to keep them from harm.
CHAPTER 24
Elizabeth paced the walled garden. Oil sconces sputtered overhead. A gust rattled through the leaves of the citron trees. She pulled her shawl closer. Jerusalem was experiencing a cooler autumn than normal, but the chill tightening her muscles was due to James’s presence.
“Sit, before you wear a hole in the ground,” James said softy, pointing to the cushioned seat next to his.
Though a month had passed since they’d laid eyes on each other, the specter of their lips brushing made conversation awkward. She halted. “I wouldn’t have asked you to come if I could have avoided it.”
His smile was sad. “I can see that. Tell me what’s upset you.”
“I received a message from Gabriel concerning you.”
James’s eyes clouded. “A message?”
She took out the rust-colored wax tablet hidden beneath her shawl.
He sprang from the chair and grabbed the engraved tablet. “I told him never to put anything in writing. Who gave it to you?”
“Is it true? Do
you plan to poison your father? Who’s Rahm? He sounds like an unsavory fellow.”
He perused the note. “Fickle Fortuna, Rahm would have to be the double spy. Who else has seen the message?”
“Answer me!”
“He pushed too far. He didn’t leave me any choice.”
White-hot fear crackled through her. “James, please don’t. If he is treating you cruelly, leave home again. Do whatever you have to, but don’t resort to murder.”
“He threatened to kill you.”
Her breath hitched. “What?”
“If he finds out I am here meeting with you, he’ll make sure you and I have a fatal accident.”
“Your father said he’d kill us?”
James shoved his fingers through his straight hair. “What happened to make him despise you so?”
She wasn’t about to tell James his dried-up father couldn’t perform his husbandly duties. That might give James hope where none existed. “You have to promise me you will give up your plans. You’ve sacrificed enough for me. I couldn’t bear it if I turned you into a murderer.”
Earnestness glowed in his black onyx eyes. “Don’t blame yourself for my actions. You must have known it would come to this.”
“You are not a murderer.”
“I can’t forgive him for what he’s done to me and my sisters, and to you. I’ve tried, but the anger always roars back to life.”
She ached for him. Wanted him to find a bit of happiness and peace. “You’ve made mistakes. But you don’t have to continue on that path.”
“I know differently. The pattern is set. My hateful father provokes me, and I resort to unsavory activities in retaliation. The years I was in Rome I drank to excess, bedded married women, and lived in gaming dens. Every so often I would get disgusted and reform my ways. That would last until I received the next hateful letter from my father, reminding me of my familial duties and my utter failure as a son. And though I loathed myself for allowing him to provoke me, I would plunge back into a debauched life, wallowing in ever filthier cesspools.”
Warring Desires (The Herod Chronicles Book 3) Page 16
