The Barbarian (The Herod Chronicles Book 2) Read online

  She swayed, suddenly a bit dizzy. What was the matter with her? She should be leaping for joy over this man. "Forgive my hesitation. Everything has happened so quickly. My mind hasn't had time to get used to the idea." Memory of the passionate kisses she'd shared with Kadar intruded. Her throat closed.

  "You don't have to commit to anything today," Avda said gently. "If you like, I can come by your brother's room at the same time over the next few days, and take you to walk about the gardens so we can become better acquainted."

  She nodded. "Thank you."

  CHAPTER 19

  One week after Lydia had hugged little James and watched him begin the trek back to Galilee with Alexandra and Nathan, her heart was still heavy. She paced around James’s bedchamber to the beat of his soft snores. She hated waiting. Waiting for her father to arrive in Jerusalem so she could confront him over the proposed marriage to the man from Parthia. Wondering how long she would have to wait to see little James again. Anxious over what her life would be like as Avda Hama's wife.

  As promised, Avda arrived and escorted Lydia out of James's room for their daily walk. The time they spent together helped make her more comfortable in her proposed husband's company, but if she was being honest, she had to admit part of her jitters came from yearning, hoping, and obsessing about catching a glimpse of Kadar. True to his word, he had stayed away. The heaviness in her heart over the loss of Kadar, and now little James, cast a dark shadow over the rest of her life.

  Avda went straight to her favorite spot in the garden, a curved niche molded into the outer wall, which sheltered a small marble bench and was shaded by a citron tree heavy with waxy white buds.

  She plucked a flower and inhaled its lemony fragrance. "Do Ori and Benjamin like their new tutor?" Well-mannered, quiet boys, ages six and four, Avda's sons had taken to her almost immediately the one time they’d met.

  Avda rolled his eyes. "My sons tell me their young rabbi tutor is quite unreasonable, expecting them to read from the Torah for two hours each day. I told them I planned to pay Rabbi Saul double what I’d promised."

  The tender care Avda showered on his sons deepened her respect and admiration. She trusted he'd treat little James equally well. "I would like to visit them again."

  Avda sobered. "I want to settle matters between us before allowing Ori and Benjamin to become attached to you." A hint of vulnerability entered his eyes. "Do you want to marry me? Is the marriage acceptable to you?"

  She swallowed. "I...I—"

  "This is difficult for me too." He held out his hand.

  Trembling, she forced her hand toward his. His palm met hers. She made herself look at him. "I'm not sure what it is you want me to say."

  He reached for her other hand and linked their fingers. "The wedding contract will be a mere formality. What's said between us now will be the true promise, binding us together. I want a promise as simple as the one I'm ready to give you." He squeezed her hands. "Lydia Onias, in the sight of the Lord, I, Avda Hama, pledge myself to you."

  Two broken souls in need of a simple, peaceful life, bound by an honest vow. How could she say no? What was there to dislike? She took a deep breath. "Avda Hama, in the sight of the Lord, I pledge—" Her heart slammed, telling her she couldn't commit herself to Avda. It wouldn't be fair. His wife was dead, but the man she loved still lived and breathed. She loved Kadar. Loved him with everything within her. She couldn't pledge an oath to another. The words would be a lie. A huge, tragic lie.

  "Lydia?" she heard Avda say.

  She blinked and the garden came back into focus.

  Avda's brow creased with concern. "You've lost all your color. Come and sit on the bench until the spell passes."

  She nodded, and backed up a step.

  A group of soldiers spilled out of a side door, putting an end to the quiet. A golden-blond head stood out from the others. Kadar. His penetrating blue eyes clouded and locked onto her and Avda's joined hands.

  She tried to yank her hands back, but Avda's firm grip held her in place.

  "All will be well," he assured her.

  His calm steadied her. "I'm sorry. They surprised me."

  He released her hands and moved to her side.

  She stared at the ground, listening for the quiet that would signal the men, and Kadar, had moved on.

  A shadow fell over the yellow clutch of flowers surrounding her sandals.

  "Hama," Kadar said in greeting.

  Kadar's deep voice reverberated through her. She continued to study her feet.

  "You and your men are armed to the teeth," Avda observed. "Where are you going?"

  Kadar grunted. "Syria."

  Lydia's head snapped up. "Syria? But you'll be gone for weeks." He'd promised to stay in Jerusalem until her father arrived, whereupon Kadar would persuade Father to sign a marriage contract binding her to Avda.

  Kadar's square jaw tightened. "They arrested Malichus. Herod asked me to accompany him."

  "I hear the Parthian army is wreaking havoc in Syria," Avda said.

  Kadar nodded over his shoulder at the soldiers. "Herod is willing to risk the danger. He is determined to see Malichus put on trial for murdering Antipater. Herod won't rest until he lays out his charges to the governor and Malichus is condemned."

  Lydia twisted her hands together to keep from reaching for Kadar. "But you said—"

  Kadar's blue eyes flashed ferociously. "Antipater was murdered while under my protection. Herod asked me to go with him. I cannot refuse." He pointed a large finger at Avda. "Hama, can you handle Onias?"

  Avda straightened. "I am well able to protect my own."

  "That's what I wanted to hear." Without a word of farewell, Kadar turned and walked away.

  Lydia chased after him and grabbed his sleeve. "Wait!"

  He whirled around. "What do you want, woman?"

  His ice-cold voice stung sharp as a slap to the face. "Will I see you again?"

  "Go back to Hama. He's your protector now."

  "But I lo—"

  "Go!" Kadar barked, yanking his arm free. His strides long and steady, he caught up to his fellow soldiers and disappeared through a gated archway.

  Lydia's knees gave out. Avda Hama scooped her up before she hit the ground. Sitting on the bench, he cradled and rocked her. She squeezed her eyes closed. Her chest ached as she struggled to hold in her tears. Avda's mouth brushed her ear. "The heart needs to mourn. So mourn him. You won't be able to move on until you do."

  Tears welling, she wrapped her arms around his solid chest. "Thank you, Avda. Thank you for understanding."

  ***

  Kadar made it as far as the stables, then turned back. He was ashamed of how he'd just treated Lydia. He had been undecided about accompanying Herod to Antioch, until he saw her try to pull away from Hama when she saw him. He had warned her to be careful lest she fall into disgrace. Hama couldn't have liked her practically throwing herself at a barbarian. Sick at the thought she was endangering her future, Kadar had overreacted and been unnecessarily cruel.

  Herod blocked his path. "Are you coming with us or not?"

  "I am, but I have to see to something. I'll be right behind you."

  Herod grinned. "Let me guess, this urgent errand concerns Lydia Onias?" Herod shook his head. "Simeon Onias will have your pillar and stones, Barbarian, if he catches you within sniffing distance of his daughter."

  "Shut your mouth," Kadar said without heat. Herod's ribald laughter followed Kadar as he made his way back to the walled garden.

  Kadar paused beside the arched entryway. His heart died in his chest at the sight of Lydia clinging to Hama, crying her heart out. Hama and Lydia, body to body. Kadar wanted to beat Hama to a bloody pulp. But this was the direction Kadar had pushed her. He should be happy she was turning to Hama for comfort.

  Except the sight crushed him. Merciful gods, why did he have to actually witness them together? It had already been torture just thinking about it, and now the image would be burned into his mind.r />
  Lydia's crying slowed and Hama stroked her back, comforting her. Kadar's hands itched with the need to hold and soothe her. She said something, and Hama laughed. Kadar's gut twisted, but he wouldn't expect less. She was his valkyrie. Then she stared off in the distance and her large brown eyes looked so damnably sad.

  Chest tight and vision blurred, Kadar felt his way along the rough-hewn wall and slid to the ground. He buried his face in his knees and, for the first time since he was a child, he wept.

  ***

  Tyre - Four Days Later

  The forlorn travel party came to a halt yet again, because Malichus's troublesome donkey decided it was a good time to lie down and roll in the sand.

  Kadar ground his teeth and climbed off his horse. The gray sky stretched into the distance over the choppy waters of the Great Sea. Two-thirds of the journey still lay ahead of them. At this rate they'd be old men by the time they reached Antioch.

  "Obodas," Herod called to the commander of his guard. "Ride ahead and tell the head tribune to expect us. I believe his name is Aemilius." He tossed a bag of coins to Obodas. "Tell him to prepare a banquet."

  Obodas wheeled his horse and galloped off. Malichus clambered to his feet cursing.

  "A jackass riding a jackass!" Herod accused.

  "It's not my fault," Malichus whined, beating the dirt from his white linen robe.

  Kadar shook his head. White? The man was a fool from the top of his oiled head to the soles of his impractical sandals. Mealy-mouthed besides, Malichus wouldn't stop yapping, proclaiming his innocence in the matter of Antipater's poisoning to everyone and anyone.

  Herod's face reddened. "Nothing's your fault, is it?"

  Malichus shifted in place. "If you would just listen, I could clear up this misunderstanding, and we could return to the comfort and safety of Jerusalem."

  "Get back on your donkey," Herod growled.

  "John Hycranus believes I'm innocent. I don't—"

  Herod urged his horse forward. "I will tie you on to your donkey myself if I have to."

  Malichus's face puckered. "You can't treat me like this. I have friends." But the sniveling coward coaxed and prodded his donkey.

  Braying a complaint, the sturdy beast rose.

  Not wanting to watch the lifelong city dweller's clumsy climb onto the donkey, Kadar walked to the water's edge, wet a rag, and washed the cloying smell of harlots from his body. If his stomach wasn't already empty from voiding it repeatedly when he woke outside the whore's den this morning, he'd be vomiting again. He massaged his aching head. Drinking himself into a stupor every night since leaving Jerusalem hadn't helped him forget Lydia. Last evening had been particularly bad. Mind full of her, he'd gone searching for a harlot wearing nothing but white jasmine, only to find all the usual smells associated with whores, and after kissing a few limp-lipped mouths tasting of sour wine he'd given up. Thank the gods!

  Lydia and Hama. It was for the best. So he kept telling himself, except no amount of rubbing up against whores, or throwing back strong spirits, or heaving his guts up in dark alleys, had dulled the pain or taught him to stop wanting Lydia Onias.

  He slapped the water with the rag, and returned to his horse. The trek resumed at the same snail's pace. Herod's horse fell in beside Kadar's brown steed. "You look like you want to kill someone," Herod observed.

  "I'd like to start with Malichus."

  "I couldn't agree more."

  "What's the latest word from your spies? Will we be able to get through to Antioch without running into the main body of the Parthian army?"

  "Did you hear about Julius Caesar's assassination while you were in the salt mine?"

  "Yes. We had word of the outside world." The caravans delivered a steady supply of news and gossip. "I heard Sextus Caesar was killed as well." Herod winced. Herod and Sextus had been great friends. Kadar cleared his throat. "Sextus was a good man."

  Herod's mouth was a grim slash. "Caesar's death was a blow to my father, and to Jerusalem's pro-Roman faction. And it sparked another round of civil wars in Rome. Mark Antony and Octavian are still at odds. In the meantime, Parthia is breathing down our necks."

  The two empires were mortal enemies. Rome dominated the west and Parthia the east.

  Herod made an obscene gesture. "Curse Mark Antony. If he was beating back Parthia's invasion of Syria instead of chasing Cleopatra from one end of the Nile to the other, we wouldn't have to worry."

  "Does Antony love the fratricidal nymph, or does he just want access to Cleopatra's armies and wealth?"

  "The gods know he'll need every soldier and coin he can lay his hands on when he and Octavian finally go for each other's throats. That aside, I think the damnable fool actually loves her." Herod shook, dog-like. "I don't know how he stands her. The woman makes my skin crawl."

  An hour later they came to halt again so Malichus could empty his bladder.

  Kadar tightened his grip on the reins to keep from wringing the fool's neck. "I'm surprised you didn't just hand Malichus an empty bottle."

  "I won't begrudge the man a last—"

  A dozen Roman soldiers burst out of a scrubby stand of pines. They fell on Malichus before the murdering fool saw them coming. Swords slashed. Malichus flopped to the ground, a bloom of red spreading over his white robe.

  Herod's men stared in shock.

  Unfazed, Herod slid of his horse and headed toward the Romans.

  Dismounting, Kadar followed Herod across the uneven ground to the soldiers circling Malichus’s still body.

  The men parted. Herod put his hands on his hips and surveyed the damage. "Wrap the body in a blanket and tie him to his donkey."

  "You knew the legionaries were coming, didn't you?" Kadar asked.

  Herod chuckled. "Knew? I sent Obodas to fetch them."

  Kadar remembered the bag of coins. "Did you bribe the Romans to kill him?"

  Herod toed Malichus's sandal. "My father was a friend of Rome. They don't forget their friends. And I don't forget those who wrong me and mine. Malichus's death will send an appropriate message to my enemies. Hurt or injure my family, and I will make you pay with your life."

  Kadar grunted. "That's some message."

  Herod clapped him on the shoulder. "A banquet awaits us in Tyre. I'm hungry enough to eat a bull."

  Kadar winced. "Don't mention food."

  Herod led him back down the beach. "I hear you've been drinking and whoring with the vehemence of a Roman army celebrating a victory."

  Kadar shrugged. "Too much time in Jerusalem. The uptight piety would make the Vestal Virgins weep."

  "Their sanctimonious zealousness drives me foolish, too. A problem I intend to remedy in the deliciously sinful city of Tyre. You pagans know how to have a good time, but I'm going to show you how to do it right. And I've got something in store far better than whores. Slave women." Herod poked Kadar's ribs. "The head tribune promised me a whole boatload of slave women fresh from outer Gaul. A buxom, blonde barbarian girl will help you forget your woes."

  "Stop smiling," he warned Herod. "Or I'll knock those large white teeth of yours down your throat."

  Herod sobered, and climbed back his horse. "Take a slave girl to your bed. It will help you move on."

  Kadar exhaled heavily. A thousand slave girls wouldn't erase Lydia from his memory. He had no choice but to move on. "Fine. You choose one for me, because I plan to be too drunk to see."

  CHAPTER 20

  Jerusalem - Three Weeks Later

  Kadar stared up at the ceiling of Morta's small hovel. The middle-aged harlot's soft snore blended with the low clucks coming from a henhouse butted up against the far wall. The income from eggs was ostensibly Morta’s means of living, providing her protection from those who would stone her to death if they knew the truth about how she actually earned money for food, clothes, and shelter.

  Kadar was paying Morta so he could hide in her home until Simeon Onias arrived in Jerusalem, but it was all his money was buying. Move on, Herod had advised
. But Kadar couldn't force himself to touch another woman. He had tried in Tyre with the slave girl from Gaul and failed. Desperate to forget Lydia, Kadar had ordered the slave to touch him, thinking lust would take over, but his stomach had curdled with the first stroke, and he had stumbled and crashed his way out of the barracks given over to the drunken orgy.

  His celibacy would come to an end. Eventually, his needs would drive him to another woman's bed. But not here. Not in Jerusalem. Not while he was within a thousand miles of Lydia Onias.

  He saw the future, knew what it held—he'd make his way to an army camp, find someone like Morta, and make her his woman. Then he'd move on to another camp and the pattern would repeat itself. Then he'd move on again.

  Kadar had decided to leave Judea after coming across Lydia and Hama in the garden, but when it came right down to it, he couldn't. Not until he was sure of Lydia's fate. He wasn't going anywhere until Simeon Onias showed his insufferable face. It wasn't that he doubted Hama's abilities, but when it came to her—

  Kadar ran his hand over his stubbled chin. He had turned down a position among Herod's elite guards, and said no to briefly remaining a guest in Antipater's home. Lydia believed he had left Jerusalem, and it was best for everyone for her to remain ignorant of his whereabouts. But the waiting was wearing him down. The temptation to sneak out and catch a glimpse of her grew and grew, until he was ready to climb the walls.

  When he wasn't obsessing about Lydia, he was pacing the room over her father, certain Simeon Onias's delay meant the devil was up to no good, and not being able to do a single thing about it was beyond maddening.

  Someone pounded on the door.

  Kadar rolled out of bed, ready to tear the butcher's head off. Morta kept sending the lusty man away, but the fool showed up regularly, begging for a quick favor. He yanked the door open, and found Herod's guardsman, Old John, staring up at him, armed to the teeth.

  "What's the trouble?" Kadar asked pulling on a tunic, sure something of significance must have happened to cause Herod to seek him out.

  The grizzled soldier hitched his thumb over his shoulder. "The Parthian army marched down the Phoenician coast. Ptolemais and Sidon welcomed them. Tyre resisted, but the Parthians made quick work of them and have invaded Galilee."