The Barbarian (The Herod Chronicles Book 2) Page 28

  "A surprise attack ought to get us off to a good start."

  "What do you think...will my newly forged army hold together?"

  Occupied the last two months gathering arms and armor rather than the training of the army, Kadar glanced about at the boiling mass of soldiers braced to charge onto the road below. "Obodas is a first-rate commander. His handpicked troops won't let you down."

  "They aren't as oversized as you...or as ugly, but they'll do," Herod said smiling.

  "This is the thanks I get for risking my hide so you can have your throne?"

  Herod wagged his black brows. "Your reward awaits you in Masada."

  Kadar tightened his sword grip as Obodas rose from the shelter of the long grass and gestured for them to move out.

  Swords hissed from sheaths. Herod stepped out in front of the line and lifted his curved blade skyward. Stomach roiling with a strange mix of dread and anticipation, Kadar hefted his shield and his sword.

  Herod slashed his weapon through the air, gave a bloodcurdling yell, and charged down the hill.

  The ululating war cry of his fellow soldiers rang in his ears. Kadar pounded after Herod. Thighs burning, he burst through the leafy palms one step behind Obodas and Herod, and right into the heart of the anti-Herod forces nipping at the heels of the Roman army.

  Surprised and shocked, the enemy rounded and came at them in a chaotic, undisciplined mass. Kadar blocked a blow from a sword, swung his blade under his shield, and cut his opponent's legs out from under him. He leaped over the jerking body and faced down two snarling combatants. Repelling both slashing blades with his shield, he rammed ahead, knocking one of the men off his feet. He held his shield in a defensive position and stabbed his sword into the fallen soldier's chest. Blood welled around the blade.

  Another loud war cry filled the air.

  Kadar looked up, and saw the Roman army was throwing their weight into the battle. The soldier he was facing down glanced about like a trapped animal.

  Breathing heavily, Kadar pointed his sword at the ground. "Get down on your belly." Pinched between two pulverizing forces, they both knew the Herod-hating Jews were already defeated.

  The frightened man dropped to one knee. A sword sliced through the air, taking the man's head off his shoulders.

  Kadar flinched.

  Face flecked with blood, Herod stepped over the dead man's crumpled body and squeezed Kadar's arm. "No one lives."

  "They're Jews...one of us."

  Herod's black eyes iced over. "No one lives."

  A wild-eyed soldier charged at Herod. Kadar pushed Herod aside and raised his shield, blocking a blow from a bloody sword. He backed up, bracing for the next strike, and tripped over the man Herod had cut down. Kadar landed hard on his back. His sword flew from his hand.

  The wild-eyed man gripped his sword with two hands and hacked downward.

  One hand still locked on his shield, Kadar hefted it over his head. The heavy blade skittered over the side of the tilted leather oval, and struck below Kadar’s elbow, burying bone-deep. Kadar cried out and reached for his arm. The wild-eyed man yanked the weapon free. Blood welled. Kadar's vision darkened and loud roaring filled his ears. The next thing he knew, a lifeless body collapsed onto his chest.

  Someone dragged the corpse away. Herod's stark face loomed overhead. "We won't let you die." He tied a leather thong around Kadar's upper arm.

  Obodas pressed a large brown cloth to the bloody wound. "Saul Gamala, get the bucket of hot coals!"

  "Put a tunic on if you're cold," Kadar said, slurring his words like a drunk.

  "I used my tunic to wrap your wound, you overgrown fool," Obodas said, his voice strained. "We have to sear the wound shut before you bleed to death."

  Fear cut through the thick stupor. "It's bad, isn't it?"

  "I'm surprised the fiend didn't take your arm clear off."

  "It hurts like Hades...that's a good sign, right?"

  Obodas's gaze slid away. "If you don't get the rot, you'll be back on your feet in no time."

  Kadar pushed himself to a half-sitting position. "I'm not done. I'm going to Masada with you."

  Obodas put his brawny hand on Kadar's torso and shoved him flat. "Stay still."

  Kadar struggled upward. "I promised Lydia. I won't stop until I get back to her."

  Obodas pushed him down again. "I'll sit on your chest if I have to."

  Another wave of dizziness hit, accompanied by nausea. An image of Lydia's laughing smile danced through Kadar’s mind's eye. He had to get back to her. Everything would be put right once he held her. If he still had two arms. "Promise me you won't feed me a sleeping concoction and march on without me."

  Nothing. Silence.

  Kadar gritted teeth. "Obodas, swear it."

  "Damnation," Obodas growled. "You have my word."

  Saul Gamala raced up with a copper bucket bristling with daggers—an immediate remedy for the plentiful gashes incurred during battle.

  Obodas pulled a dagger free and inspected the grayish, flat blade.

  "Thundering Thor!" Kadar yelled sucking in his breath. "Do it. Get it over with."

  Obodas plunged the blade back into the red-hot coals. "Hold him down."

  Herod knelt on Kadar's chest and held out a wide strap for Kadar to bite down on. "We crushed the local fighters. We'll start for Masada as soon as you can mount your horse."

  Calling up the image of Lydia's beautiful face, Kadar crushed the tangy leather between his teeth, and squeezed his eyes shut. Searing pain followed by the stench of burnt flesh sent him spiraling into a deep, black void.

  CHAPTER 40

  Masada – Three Days Later

  Lydia strolled past the young girls building playhouses and pretend towns out of shiny stones. The brilliant blue sky and sharp, clean breeze almost compensated for the unending monotony of the daily tasks of mending clothes, grinding grain, and hours of small talk.

  Sweet-tempered Hannah spotted Lydia. The six-year-old girl bounced to her feet and rushed over. "Will you come and tell us a story or play a game?"

  Lydia smiled. "You've heard all my tales."

  The other girls crowded around. "Please, please," they begged.

  "Make up a new one," Hannah suggested.

  Lydia crossed her arms, tapping her chin, pretending to think and think, then made a silly face. They girls giggled.

  Excited shouts came from the watchmen manning the gate tower.

  Lydia sobered.

  Hannah pressed up against her. "I wish the bad soldiers would go away."

  Lydia forced a smile and patted the girl's soft curls. "We've nothing to fear. Joseph will chase them away again." Nonetheless, the mood atop the remote wilderness outpost turned gloomier every time Hasmond's troops tested the fortress' defenses.

  But this time the guards’ shouts were different. Jubilant. "Herod has returned!" men shouted.

  Lydia's pulse quickened. She hiked up her tunic, raced to the low wall overlooking the Snake Path, and leaned out over the crumbling balustrade.

  Herod came around a rocky corner and grinned up at his followers, who now lined the entire wall.

  Armored men trudged over the last crest. She searched for Kadar's golden-blond head. Her breath backed up in her lungs. Where was he? More soldiers came, but Kadar wasn't among them. A few stragglers came over the knoll. She waited and waited for Kadar to appear. Her gut twisted. Something horrible had happened.

  Then two men lumbered into view. A dark head and a blond head. "Praise the Lord," she said on a sob, sagging against the stone wall. But all was not well—Kadar's broad shoulders were stooped. His sword hung from his left hand. His right arm was in a sling.

  Obodas spotted her and pointed.

  Kadar lilted his chin. Although his face was dangerously pale and lined with pain, he smiled brilliantly when he spotted her.

  Crying and laughing, she waved, dabbed her eyes, and waved again with both hands. Unable to stand still a moment longer, she raced to the
gate, pushed through a flood of soldiers, rushed down the incline, and threw herself at Kadar. He staggered backward.

  She gasped and clutched his tunic—not that she had a hope in heaven of keeping his massive body from toppling over. "I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?"

  He pulled her against his wide chest. His warm, guttural voice filled her ear. "I missed you too, my valkyrie."

  Obodas wrestled Kadar's sword away, nodded a greeting to Lydia, and hurried on to the fortress.

  She pressed her face into his muscled neck. He smelled of sweat and horse and health. Praise God! "What happened? How are you?"

  His large hand stroked her back. "The wound is healing well, but I lost a lot of blood. I guess that tortuous climb more work than I was ready for. Herod and Obodas told me to wait at the base of the mountain." His rumbling laugh reverberated through her. "I won't repeat the names they called me when I refused."

  She wrapped one arm around his back. "Lean on me. I want Avda to look at the wound."

  Kadar exhaled a heavy breath. "How is Hama?"

  "He is a wonderful physician and a kind friend. He will take good care of you."

  "I'll let him poke at me, if it will make you happy."

  "Kadar!" Old John trotted toward them.

  A dark shadow crossed Kadar's face. "John, I see the mountain air agrees with you."

  The one-armed man halted. Wheezing heavily, he grimaced. "Obodas said you got winged a good one."

  Kadar flapped his bandaged arm. "I should have use of it again soon."

  Old John massaged his stump. "Herod did well for himself. I hear he is gathering quite the army."

  Kadar smiled. "Herod's victory in Joppa impressed his doubters, so people are flocking to him, hoping to gain his good favor when he overthrows Hasmond. Parthia's abominable actions throughout the region have helped Herod's cause. The people blame Hasmond for not restraining the Parthian army."

  The one-armed man's shoulders sagged. "I hate that I missed the battle. I don't think I'll ever get used to sitting at home while my friends are marching to war."

  Kadar leaned more heavily on Lydia. "Don't put away your sword yet. I need you to keep watching over Lydia."

  Old John gave her a shy smile. "I count it an honor, if your good woman doesn't mind continuing to put up with a gimpy old dog like me."

  "I found your company very pleasant," Lydia assured him. Kadar was worried about how she'd fare living at a fortress surrounded by untamed, coarse warriors, but these last months at Masada in the company of Old John and Joseph's band of crude-mouthed men had soothed her mind on the matter.

  Obodas returned with Avda in tow. "Stop your gabbing. Physician Hama wants to examine my handiwork. Make sure your wound isn't curdling."

  "I hope Obodas didn't drag you away from something important," Kadar said. "The big brute worries over me like an old woman."

  Lydia patted Kadar's back. "Thank you for coming, Avda."

  Avda didn't meet her eyes. "It's no trouble."

  Kadar pulled her closer. "The sooner I get rid of this sling the better."

  "Come to the sick room and I'll take a look at it."

  They proceeded toward the fortress gate. "Obodas said the sword struck your arm below your elbow?" Avda asked.

  Kadar flexed his fingers and rolled his shoulder. "My hand feels weak, but the arm works fine."

  Avda nodded, then glanced at Lydia. The troubled look in his eyes sent a chill through her.

  ***

  Kadar winced, but the bandage came off painlessly.

  Lydia's hands paused on his shoulders, then resumed their soothing massage.

  Physician Hama bent to inspect the dagger-shaped scar. "I see Obodas used maggots to clean the wound. Good, good. There's no sign of rot, and no putrid odor. You won't lose your arm."

  Lydia blew out her breath. "Praise the Lord."

  Kadar patted her hand and wrinkled his nose. "They plastered my arm twice with the devilish white worms."

  Hama straightened. "I call them miracle workers. Can you lift your arm over your head?"

  Kadar raised his arm, twisted it one way, then the other. "Works fine."

  Hama held out his hand. "Squeeze my fingers."

  "Talk like that could get you in trouble," Kadar quipped, clasping Hama's hand.

  "Tighter," Hama instructed.

  Kadar stared at his stubborn fingers and willed them to curl "It's only been two weeks."

  Hama's fingers pressed against Kadar's hand, then slid free. "I've seen a few injuries like yours. And..." Hama's frown grew grimmer. "And, the weakness might be permanent."

  Kadar winced. "Might be?"

  "Using a spoon and lifting a cup and such, you should manage fine, but you will never wield a sword again."

  Lydia moaned softly and her forehead pressed against his shoulder.

  "But I'm a warrior," Kadar said through numbed lips.

  The physician's eyes softened. "There are soldiers whose tasks don't include fighting."

  "That's not for me."

  "Kadar has many talents," Lydia said jumping to his defense, every bit his fierce valkyrie.

  Hama backed toward the door. "I'll leave you two alone to discuss matters."

  "Thank you for your honesty, Avda Hama," Kadar said paying the physician the respect he'd give a fellow soldier.

  Hama slipped from the room. Kadar drew Lydia forward.

  She came and stood between his legs and laid her hands on his chest. "I hate them for hurting you."

  He ran his hands over her lithe back and slim waist. "I can live just fine without my sword. What would have killed me was not being able to hold you and touch you."

  "I don't care how we live, as long as we are together."

  "You trust me completely, don't you?" he asked, humbled and amazed.

  Eyes shimmering with unshed tears, she smiled. "From always and forever, my heart knew your heart."

  Throat thick with emotion, he swallowed. "I can't remember not loving you. When you called on me to spirit you away from Egypt, I had to come."

  A lone tear rolled down her dusty-rose cheek. "And now you can't be a soldier."

  Not too long ago the blow would have devastated him, but not now. "I was born a Northman. And I thought I'd always be a warrior, but my desires have changed. I can see a different life for myself, and I want it." He covered her soft hand and held it over to the spot where the amulet used to rest. "Wherever you are is home to me. Your people are now my people. Your God is now my God."

  "You don't have to. Not for me."

  "I wanted to give up my idols."

  She released a shuddering breath. "Do you know the story of Ruth the Moabite, the great grandmother of our King David?"

  Distracted by the luminescent beauty of her smooth brown skin, he traced his finger over her jaw. "I missed the sound of your voice."

  Her quiver echoed through him. "Do you want to hear Ruth's story?" she asked in a feather-soft whisper.

  He tilted her chin up and skimmed his mouth over her soft, warm lips. "Stop talking and kiss me."

  Her husky laugh speared through him. He buried his fingers in her silky brown hair and devoured her mouth. Her whimpering moans made his loins burn.

  Someone knocked at door.

  They broke off the kiss. "Come in," he hissed.

  Obodas threw open the door, and strode into the sick room. "Herod wants everyone ready to leave at first light tomorrow."

  Lydia sighed, then nipped his lower lip. "You better hurry up and marry me."

  "Do you want me to leave?" Obodas asked, wearing a big, fat smile.

  Kadar steered Lydia to his side. "You can help Lydia ready for the journey to Jerusalem."

  Lydia's doe eyes widened. "Jerusalem?"

  "I intend to pay your father a visit. I don't expect him to give his blessing on our marriage; nonetheless I must put the question to him."

  CHAPTER 41

  Jerusalem - Three Days Later

  James clutched Lydia
and Kadar's letter in his sweaty palms and entered Cousin Nehonya's dining chamber, where he’d learned his father would take his evening meal. James planned to wholeheartedly champion Lydia and Kadar’s cause, collect his father's refusal, then leave Jerusalem to join Herod in hopes of finding a way to be useful to King Herod.

  The first face he saw was Elizabeth's. Distracted by her pretty, long-lashed eyes and pink-blushed cheeks, he tugged on the neckline of his tunic.

  "Have you finally come to your senses?" a sour voice demanded from nearby.

  James directed a cold look at his so-called father. "I'm curious. The palace gossips say Hasmond did not sleep well last night. I hope you fared better?"

  Herod's impressive army had arrived and set up camp outside the city the day before, leaving Jerusalemites humming with either speculation and excitement or dread and tension, depending on their loyalties.

  His father smiled smugly. "Alliances can always be bought and sold. The generous bribes Hasmond has given Venditius and Silo ought to convince the Roman commanders to abandon Herod."

  Though it wasn't the time or place to confront his father, James couldn't help himself. "What have your bribes bought you? I thought Hasmond was going to make you Captain of the Temple. And shouldn't Cousin Nehonya be the Temple Overseer and Gabriel be the Temple Treasurer by now? "

  Cousin Nehonya shifted in his seat. Elizabeth looked embarrassed. Locked in their own grief, Gabriel and Chloe remained insensible to the ugly exchange.

  "That's because my family is no help to me," his father raged. "A rebellious son who shames me. Harlots for daughters."

  "You're too harsh," Cousin Nehonya said.

  Simeon rounded on his cousin. "You're no help, either."

  "Why do you have to be so vicious?" Elizabeth accused.

  "Shut your mouth, woman," Simeon commanded, then, pointing at his ex-wife, he narrowed his eyes at Cousin Nehonya. "Why is she still in Jerusalem?"

  Nehonya paled. "She...what I mean...we—"

  Gabriel came alive. "Don't speak to my sister in that manner!"

  "Leave Elizabeth alone. She's innocent." James said, angry and sickened on Elizabeth's behalf.