Warring Desires (The Herod Chronicles Book 3)

by Wanda Ann Thomas

  Gabriel gritted his teeth. “Don’t speak filthily about her.”

  Herod chuckled. “She is leading you around by your stones.”

  “Shoshana is a virtuous woman.”

  “Who allowed you to ravish her beside her mule pen?”

  Gabriel’s gut clenched. Hell and crucifixion. Rahm or someone else had been watching that night. The angels knew Herod was as suspicious as they came. He might be paying a man to spy on Gabriel.

  He could offer to repay the coins Herod had given to the family, but that might make everyone look guiltier. He could tell Herod Rahm was spying for Hasmond, but he’d have a difficult time explaining why he hadn’t informed Herod before now. If he told the truth, that Shoshana and Noach had asked him not to tell, Herod might take it as further proof Shoshana was a temptress taking advantage of a young priest. And they might all end up dead.

  Mother of mercy, he couldn’t afford a misstep. The trouble was, he wasn’t just out of his depth dealing with cunning men such as Herod and Rahm—he wasn’t on the same map. Rahm had clawed his way out of poverty using trickery of every kind. The Parthian army had stripped Herod of power and position and sent him running for his life. Left with nothing but charm, wits, and an iron will, he’d raised a formidable army and been named king.

  But Gabriel wasn’t the same man anymore. Talitha’s death had shaken him to the core. Cousin Simeon and High Priest Hasmond’s corrupt Temple practices had driven him to take up a sword. War and the cliff caves had toughened him. He’d promised Shoshana he could protect her. Helen and Elizabeth and his mother’s safety also rested with him. He would risk everything to safeguard those he loved.

  Gabriel met Herod’s calculating gaze. “What do you require in order to overlook the family’s indiscretion?”

  “You’re a quick learner,” Herod said approvingly. “Consider the family forgiven. And when the times comes, I want you to join my circle of court advisers. I will need the support of Jerusalem’s leading families when I ascend to the throne. Men with influence among their peers.”

  “I will gladly speak to my father and his friends.”

  Herod’s face turned stony. “That generation clings to the past. Young men like you are the future.”

  The quick shift in Herod’s mood unsettled Gabriel. “My father respects my judgment. Once he is out from under Simeon Onias’s influence, he will be a different man.”

  “Your father was wise in one respect. He didn’t allow his Samaritan mistress to interfere with his duties. Continue your affair with your female mule train driver if it makes you happy, but don’t take it any further. Marriages will need to be arranged to align our families.”

  Gabriel didn’t want Herod meddling in his life any more than he’d wanted Simeon Onias’ interference. “I’m going to marry Sho—”

  “The woman has a husband.”

  “Rahm abandoned the marriage.”

  Herod freed Shoshana’s letters from Gabriel’s numb grasp, stood, and handed them off to the pasty-faced secretary. “You and Rahm had better learn to get along. I’d hate to see the Samaritan woman get hurt.”

  Gabriel jumped to his feet. “Her name is Shoshana.”

  Herod smiled. “You will be pleased with my plans. I am returning to Samaria on our way home to be married to my betrothed. You must be a guest at the wedding.”

  The head guardsmen entered the tent. “The Roman commanders have arrived.”

  “Show them in,” Herod said, then turned to his secretary. “Be ready with the reports from Egypt and Petra”.

  Four roman officers filed into the tent, followed by a pair of slaves carrying pitchers of perfumed water.

  Herod waved the officers toward his inner sanctuary. “Come, a feast awaits you.”

  Gabriel’s hard glare was wasted on Herod, who exchanged pleasantries with the Romans and moved to the benches where slaves waited to wash their feet.

  “Can I help you with anything else?” the secretary asked, sunken eyes filled with derision.

  Frustrated and angry, but far from defeated, Gabriel marched outside. The quiet hum of a camp full of soldiers recovering from battle greeted him. He stalked away in search of the devil named Rahm, but many fruitless hours later, Gabriel had nothing to show for his efforts. Rahm had disappeared.

  CHAPTER 30

  One week later Herod’s army was camped outside another humble Syrian village on the march south. Gabriel stamped his frozen feet and tucked his ice-cold hands under his armpits and peered at the orange ball of the sun cresting the craggy horizon. Leonidas and the other sentries looked equally miserable huddled inside their cloaks, standing guard along the east perimeter of a hastily-dug earthen wall. The other soldiers grumbled at the work created by Herod’s caution, but slept more soundly because of the extra layer of defense the wall provided.

  Normally Gabriel preferred the morning watch, but his first experience with the bitter winter chill gripping the mountainous land gave him a new appreciation for warm beds and thick blankets. Only his first thoughts always went to Shoshana’s cozy cave home rather than his grand, spacious house sitting empty in Jerusalem.

  Shoshana. He would gut Rahm if the bloodsucking thief caused her harm.

  Leonidas pulled Gabriel away from the others. “Don’t let Rahm get under your skin. That’s what he wants.”

  Gabriel scrubbed his windburned face, annoyed at himself for continuing to seethe even though Rahm had fled for parts unknown after accusing Shoshana and Gabriel of adultery. “Keep reminding me Shoshana and her family are safer without my presence. It’s taking every shred of willpower I have not to desert the army and rush to protect them.”

  Dawn’s harsh shadows crept across Leonidas’s earnest face. “Rahm has secrets, too. He needs to tread carefully, or King Herod will have his head.”

  Gabriel had told himself that a thousand times. The next move was up to Rahm, who wanted Gabriel to stew before springing his demands. Allowing his fears and doubts to dominate his thoughts was a victory for Rahm. “You are calling Herod king now?” Gabriel said.

  Leonidas shrugged and grinned. “I’m practicing. The Pharisees will hate having to address Herod as ‘King Herod’. I can just picture them looking like they are eating sour grapes.”

  Gabriel tried to picture himself standing beside Herod in the Hall of Hewn Stones. But a vivid image came of him and Shoshana strolling together through an olive orchard. He shook his head clear. “Are you ready for the changes that will come when we return to Jerusalem?”

  Soft chirps and the distant trilling of birds filled a long silence. Leonidas finally exhaled a heavy breath. “I will stay in the army. Commander Obodas says the men need a priest in their midst to remind them of their religious duties. Mother and father won’t be pleased, but I hope they’ll eventually become used to the idea.”

  Gabriel didn’t relish the plan, but he couldn’t deny that soldiering suited Leonidas. “Wait until I announce my plans to marry a Samaritan woman first, and they won’t blink an eye at your news.”

  Leonidas patted Gabriel on the back. “Mother and Father and Elizabeth will be upset to begin with, but they’ll soften once they get to know Shoshana and see the Ehuds are good, kind, strong folks.”

  “I hope you’re right. Shoshana will need as many friends as she can get.”

  “Andrew will kick the hardest, but I’ll work on him.”

  Gabriel feared his marriage to Shoshana would widen the gap between him and Andrew. “Andrew is stubborn as a mule, and he doesn’t always have the most open of minds.”

  Leonidas yawed like a mule, and said, “I wish Andrew was here. He’d say, ‘If I’m a mule, you’re a jackass.’ And I would say, ‘You both look like preening roosters.’ ”

  Gabriel smiled at Leonidas’s perfect imitation of Andrew’s fractious scowl. “And Father would sigh and ask the Lord to give him patience.” Gabriel mourned those simpler, happier times.

  “Do you plan to reconcile with Father?” Leonidas
asked, his voice hopeful.

  The brilliant sun disappeared behind a blanket of low, dark clouds. “If I’m angry with anyone, it’s myself.” Given charge of the watch, Gabriel pulled his cloak tighter and turned to the other sentries. “Go get something to eat before we pull up—.”

  Leonidas nudged Gabriel and pointed. “A messenger.”

  A lone rider on a quick-footed horse charged up the weather-beaten road. The sentries tensed. Herod’s messenger flashed past in a swirl of dust.

  Gabriel and Leonidas trotted after him.

  Pulling his winded horse to a stop in front of the command tent, the messenger slid to the ground. Herod’s personal slave rushed out of the tent, wide-eyed. The messenger and slave exchanged words. The color drained from the slave’s face.

  Gabriel and Leonidas and the other sentries were panting by the time they reached the tent just as Herod appeared in the doorway, clothes and hair disheveled and eyes shining like a maddened man.

  Herod dropped to his knees at the messenger’s feet. “Joseph is dead!” he cried out pitifully. “I dreamed my brother died. I saw it. And now you’re here to tell me Joseph is dead.”

  Eyes wide, the messenger glanced about, no doubt looking for someone who might intercede or rescue him.

  Herod clasped the messenger’s hand. “Is Joseph dead? Tell me.”

  The messenger nodded. “Your brother took five cohorts to Jericho to collect grain. Hasmond’s southern army attacked in a mountain pass. It was a total loss.”

  Herod howled and tore his tunic and giant tear rolled down his face.

  Commander Obodas barged through the growing circle of onlookers. “Go about your duties,” he barked.

  Soldiers, slaves, and camp workers walked away, wiping the sleep from their eyes and gossiping.

  Commander Obodas worked with the slave to get Herod on his feet and coax him back into the tent where he could grieve in private.

  Shaken, Gabriel swallowed against the heaviness in his chest. “Herod has lost two brothers to the war. And his father poisoned...probably at High Priest Hasmond’s hand. I’d be equally devastated.”

  “Herod saw it in a dream.” Leonidas’s expression was dazed. “He knew before the messenger told him. That has to mean something, doesn’t it?”

  Dread coiled snake-like around Gabriel. “I wouldn’t want to face Herod’s fury once he recovers his senses.”

  Gabriel and Leonidas weren’t alone in their wondering. News of what had just transpired traveled like wildfire through the camp. Men stood outside their tents or around fires, speculating about Herod’s premonition and the extent of the revenge Herod would extract for Joseph’s death.

  CHAPTER 31

  Leather armor creaking against the chill of early spring, Gabriel gripped his sword extra tight, frustrated and angry over the coming assault on the village of Isanas. When would the fight move to Jerusalem? The renewed rebellion against Herod was wearing on his patience. And Herod’s.

  A week after learning of his brother’s death, Herod, still enraged, moved his army south. His black anger worsened when they met resistance in Galilee, where High Priest Hasmond had taken advantage of Herod’s venture to Syria to stir up a handful of villages against Herod.

  Flanked by Commander Obodas on his right and Leonidas on his left, Gabriel charged through the remains of a splintered gate, following in the footprints of a hammerhead frontal attack. Armed villagers fled down a narrow lane and took refuge in the small mud homes and shops. Herod and his elite guardsmen cut down the men too slow to reach refuge.

  A dart slammed into the ground two steps ahead of Gabriel. He flinched and glanced up to see men leaning out the windows of a two-story building overhead, shooting arrows and throwing stones.

  Commander Obodas grabbed his arm. “Ignore them. I don’t want to lose sight of the king.”

  Gabriel, Leonidas, and Commander Obodas sprinted after Herod. Commander Obodas struck down a man who managed to stay on his feet after being hit by the front wave of Herod’s rolling wall of death, and Gabriel plunged his sword into the doughy belly of a prone man slashing out at Leonidas with a bloody sword. The man gasped, his look of surprise frozen in death.

  God go with you, Gabriel prayed, pulling his blade free. He raced on, leaping over dead body after dead body, sick about killing yet more countrymen. Why were these people throwing away their lives? Herod would be king. Why couldn’t they accept the inevitable?

  Hounding the last handful of stragglers, Herod veered down a dead-end alley.

  Muffled shouts and assorted thuds and scraping noises came from behind the locked doors and windows of a single-story shop.

  Black eyes fierce, Herod made a quick survey of the building. “Tear the roof down over their heads.”

  Soldiers helped boost each other onto the flat sod roof, swarming outward they hacked through the packed clay with knives and swords.

  “Stand ready to strike down anyone who comes out the door,” Commander Obodas ordered Gabriel and Leonidas.

  Gabriel held his sword in a two-handed grip. An arrow whizzed past his ear. More arrows rained down.

  “Take cover,” Obodas called, pressing up against the mud wall opposite the door. Leonidas followed. Carefree nature invisible behind his deadly warrior’s mask, Leonidas welded himself to Commander Obodas’s side. Gabriel sought the protection against the opposite building.

  “I want men on that roof,” Herod shouted, pointing with his bloodstained sword. Then a bolt pierced Herod’s side, embedding in the exposed muscle below his leather breastplate. He grunted and grabbed his waist. His elite guards closed around him, and Gabriel prayed the wound wasn’t fatal.

  Death screams resounded from inside the building and the door burst open, allowing Gabriel to catch a glimpse of his fellow soldiers dropping through the roof and attacking the enemy. Villagers tumbled out the door, and he heard a door behind him bang open. He whirled around, ready to do battle with the sword-wielding men who erupted from the dilapidated shop.

  Commander Obodas and Leonidas leapt from the shadows, and a curved sword arced toward Leonidas’s head.

  “No!” Gabriel cried, lunging forward.

  At the last moment, Commander Obodas deflected the curved blade with his sword and pushed Leonidas out of the way.

  A blood-curdling yell pierced the air. Commander Obodas whirled around, tripped over a dead body, and landed hard on his knees. An angry-eyed villager cleaved away the left half of Commander Obodas’s hand, and another man buried his blade deep in the commander’s upper thigh. Gushing blood and defenseless, the bull-necked soldier cradled his hand to his chest.

  “Demons take you!” Leonidas bellowed, cutting down the man trying to wrench his sword from Commander Obodas’s leg.

  Around them the villagers took heart at the sight of the wounded commander and regrouped.

  Gabriel and Leonidas took up defensive posts on either side of Commander Obodas.

  “We won’t desert you,” Gabriel promised while he tried to catch sight of Herod. They would be in trouble if both commanders were incapacitated.

  The alley seethed with desperate men. Swords clanged. The sickening smell of blood and sweat permeated the air.

  “Assist the king,” yelled the commander of the Roman reserve from the open end of the alley. More troops rushed to join the fight.

  Gabriel licked his parched lips, and the taint of another man’s blood filled his mouth. He swallowed the salty evidence of his victories, and a primal fierceness he equated with barbarians, pirates, and bandits seized him.

  “Kill them all,” called Herod, still standing and his voice reassuringly strong. “Show no mercy.”

  Men roared their approval. Gabriel attacked with renewed zeal.

  A quick slaughter ensued. Men piled at his feet, Herod hoisted his red-slicked sword into the air, fiery hate burning in his black eyes. “Tear every last building down, he roared. “Don’t stop until they are all dead.”

  The Romans, He
rod, and his elite guard bolted toward the main road. Gabriel and Leonidas knelt and inspected Commander Obodas’s injuries.

  Pain contorting his rugged face, Commander Obodas nodded. “Don’t concern yourself over me. It’s time I retire and return to Idumea.”

  Leonidas paled. “I should be the one dead or injured. You saved me.”

  “Get a mule and litter,” Gabriel said, jerking his chin toward the end of the street.

  “I will be back faster than you can say Methuselah,” Leonidas said, and dashed up the body-strewn lane.

  Drained, Gabriel sat on his heels and grimaced at the amount of blood Commander Obodas had lost. “We will get you to Herod’s personal Physician.”

  Commander Obodas labored for breath. “You still refuse to call him king.”

  Shaken at his part in the wholesale slaughter of his countrymen, Gabriel also began to doubt Herod’s fitness to rule. “He will be the king of the dead if he goes on like this.”

  Commander Obodas frowned. “I wager you would seek revenge if your enemies had murdered your brothers and put their heads on pikes.”

  Retaliation for Talitha’s death had been a major reason Gabriel joined the army. What would his father and Andrew say if they could see his blood soaked hands and clothes? “I tasted a man’s blood today…and I rejoiced,” he confessed, dropping his head in shame.

  “Battle brings out the savage in all of us.” Commander Obodas’s hoarse whisper held a hint of regret. “But you aren’t a soldier at heart, so the savagery bothers you.”

  Gabriel glanced up at Commander Obodas. A few short months ago, he would have laughed off the suggestion he and one of Herod’s Idumean soldiers could be friends. But here was a man worthy of the respect he couldn’t give Simeon Onias or High Priest Hycranus. Gabriel swallowed his doubts about Herod. “I will make it a point to address Herod as king.”

  Commander Obodas slumped back against the grimy wall. “And you had better prepare yourself for more fighting like you saw today. The king’s outrage over his brother’s death will take time to burn out.”