The Barbarian (The Herod Chronicles Book 2) Page 9

Nathan's stepmother and Mary beckoned for them to sit by the fire.

  Kadar put his mouth to her ear. "Rhoda has a reed mat set out for you."

  "Let me help you, dear," Alexandra said. She passed baby Anna to Nathan, took Lydia's hand. "I'll take care of my sister."

  Alexandra was a good woman with a keen mind, someone Kadar knew had Lydia's best interests at heart, and yet he remained rooted in place.

  Alexandra glanced around, then her solemn eyes returned to him. "It's best if you allow me to support Lydia."

  Kadar surveyed the nearby campsites. Greeted by a multitude of frowns, his muscles tightened.

  Lydia pressed her arm against his hand, trapping his fingers against her warm body. "They fear you more than they hate you," she murmured.

  Relieved to see a bit of color return to her face, he squeezed her elbow. "I'm sorely tempted to give them good reason to fear me."

  Lydia shook her head. "It would only make matters worse. Promise me you will stay far away from them."

  He flexed his sword hand. "They are safe from me, unless I see them mistreat you."

  Alexandra cleared her throat loudly. "Come and eat. Nathan will go smooth matters over."

  Lydia straightened. "Rhoda and Mary and Cephas are waiting for our company." Head high, she pulled free, made her way to the small fire, and knelt down on a mat.

  Kadar rolled his shoulders and turned to Alexandra and Nathan. "I should go."

  Nathan patted baby Anna's back. "Don't be running off just yet."

  "You will always be a welcome guest around our fire," Alexandra assured him.

  Kadar gave the couple a pointed look. "You are good people, and have always treated me well. But..." he jabbed his thumb in the direction of the closed tent, "...you know Judas's grandmother won't allow Lydia to meet with the boy if Lydia is seen keeping company with a pagan."

  Baby Anna's small hands grabbed at Nathan's nose. He smiled at his daughter. "My neighbors are aware that I have gentile friends. But leave Lydia's welfare to me." Nathan's voice grew gruff. "Keep your distance from Lydia and all will be well."

  Kadar had no quarrel with the reprimand. The problem was his good sense vanished when he came anywhere near Lydia.

  "I will be more careful," Kadar promised.

  Nathan passed the baby to Alexandra and clapped Kadar on the back. "You are a good man. It's too bad you weren't been born a Hebrew."

  Kadar let the insult pass, knowing Nathan meant it as a compliment.

  Alexandra gave Kadar a kind smile. "Have you ever considered putting away your gods and turning to the Lord God of Israel?"

  Kadar touched the amulet hidden beneath his tunic and laughed. "Why would I? You declare your God is the God of gods, yet your nation is weak and poor. If I ever gave up my gods, it would be to turn to the gods of mighty empires such as Rome or Parthia."

  Looking distinctly uncomfortable, Nathan and Alexandra fussed over the baby.

  Taking pity on them, Kadar turned the conversation back to Lydia. "I'll stay if you are sure it won't cause problems."

  "I'm glad to hear it," Nathan said. "I'd like your company when I return Lydia to Nehonya Onias's home. We will leave well before dark."

  Kadar remembered why he liked Nathan. He had a warrior's mind and instincts, and handled a sword like a champion. "You'd have made a good barbarian, olive farmer. Too bad you were born a Jew."

  Nathan's jaw dropped. Kadar laughed and clapped him on the back.

  Alexandra and Nathan's sons raced past them, and skidded to a halt beside Lydia.

  "Mind your manners," Alexandra called out.

  The boys' small heads bobbed in unison.

  "Will you tell us a story, Aunt Lydia?" the oldest begged breathlessly. "Mother said you'd tell us stories. How about the talking donkey? Mother said you make funny animal noises."

  The younger boy clapped and hopped in place. "Talking donkey, talking donkey."

  Lydia's smile was fragile. "The talking donkey? Why, that's my favorite, too."

  The youngest climbed into her lap and tipped up his dirt-smudged, angelic face. "Talking donkey."

  Lydia hugged the boy. "Your mother wants you to say please."

  He stuck out his lower lip.

  Lydia tickled him.

  The boy squirmed and giggled. "Please, please, please."

  Rhoda, Mary, and Cephas joined the laughter while Nathan and Alexandra made their way to the fire. Lydia plunged into the story, braying like a donkey, and buzzing like a honeybee, and barking like a dog as needed, delighting her adoring audience.

  Kadar marveled at Lydia. She must be dying inside, but you couldn't tell.

  Her eyes met his. She beckoned, inviting him to join the others around. He made his way toward them. The aroma of roasting meat and the joyous laughter swirling up reminded him of his youth and time spent next to a roaring fire in the company of his father with his half-brother and sisters. He missed it. Coarse jesting and sour wine shared with fellow soldiers couldn’t compare.

  He sat opposite Lydia. She spun more tales, taught the children games and songs, and generally kept up a brave front. Kadar participated in all the fun, which, for some reason, the others found amazing. The children begged to sing Goliath of Gath, again.

  Familiar with the lyrics, Kadar sang with relish. Everyone quickly covered their ears. When the song ended, accusations rained down. "You can't sing." "You call that singing?" "Who brought out the broken horn?"

  Lydia said nothing, but her hand covered her mouth to hide her smile.

  Kadar shrugged. "I can't hum, either. Whistling," he rocked the flat of his hand "I'm so-so at whistling. Do you want to hear me try?"

  "No!" the others chorused, shaking their heads and covering their ears again.

  Too soon it was time to go. Everyone stood. Achan and Raziel clung to Lydia's skirt. "Don't go, Aunt Lydia," the oldest begged.

  Raziel waved his chubby finger. "One more game."

  Lydia tousled his hair. "You said that three games ago."

  Alexandra interceded. "Aunt Lydia will return in two days to share the Paschal meal with us."

  The boys jumped up and down. "Will you sit with me?" Achan pleaded. "Sit with me," Raziel echoed.

  Lydia tucked a boy under each arm. "I will sit between you. How's that?" She received wide grins in reply.

  CHAPTER 12

  A short time later Kadar, Nathan, and Lydia climbed the road back to the city and passed through the ancient arched gates. People scurried about, intent on finishing their business and returning home. Many shops had closed early. Doors and gates were barred. Danger and uncertainty hung heavy on the air. Kadar's muscles tightened like they did before a battle.

  He heard the protesters before he saw them. The next turn of the narrow, crowded street revealed men shouting and raising fists at Antipater's massive home.

  Nathan stopped. "I think we should take the long way around." Boxed in on all sides by stone buildings here, escape would be difficult if trouble arose.

  Hand at the ready on his sword handle, Nathan scouted for danger as he led them down a series of narrow, deserted alleys. Kadar followed close on Lydia's heels.

  She looked back at him. "Is my brother in danger? Maybe we should move him to my cousin's house."

  "I plan to scout out the situation after seeing you home. Tell me you won't step outside until I report back."

  Lydia nodded, then frowned. "I hate this unrest. I sometimes wonder if Jerusalem will ever find peace."

  He touched the back of her arm. "Peace has the substance of a cloud. It provides a bit of shade and rain until a good wind blows it away."

  "This is going to sound selfish, but I'm afraid this trouble will prevent me from seeing my son."

  A penniless widow, with an injured brother to care for, a son she couldn't visit, and now worry the city would erupt into violence around her, she deserved a ray of light.

  Kadar moved closer to Lydia and put his mouth to her ear. "Don't go to the Temple
for Pesach. Make an excuse to stay home, and I will come for you and take you to see your boy."

  Lydia slowed. "Little James? Truly?"

  "Bring Byrnhild with you. You don't want to be caught sneaking off alone with a pagan."

  "I'll risk any danger."

  He wanted to pull her to his chest and wrap his arms around her. "Not much frightens me, but your courage puts the fear of the gods into me. Promise me you will act with your wits and not your heart."

  "Me?" Her elbow jabbed into his gut. "You are always putting yourself in danger."

  He laughed. Good gods, how was he supposed to walk away from this woman?

  The rhythmic pounding of sandals slapping against stone spurred them forward, with Lydia close on their heels. Kadar took point. A few moments later the lane emptied out onto the main thoroughfare, throwing them directly into the path of an approaching army. Kadar's hand went to his sword. He signaled for Lydia to stay back. Tension bristled off Nathan.

  Kadar relaxed when he spotted Herod at the head of the armed contingent, with his brother Phasael at his side. The brothers were on a collision course with the protestors.

  "Barbarian!" Herod called out, raising his hand to bring the soldiers to a halt. "I could use another sword."

  Kadar relished the idea of battle. It had been too long since he'd lifted his sword. "Why are you leading Hycranus's army? Where's Malichus?"

  Herod scowled. "The worthless dog refused to send troops to disperse the hatemongers, declaring the people should be allowed to express their grief in any manner they see fit. Which is a stinking pile of bull dung."

  "When did you arrive in Jerusalem?" Kadar asked.

  Herod exhaled heavily. "A few hours ago."

  "My mother begged Herod to ignore the troublemakers until after we buried my father," Phasael said, his words choked and his eyes red-rimmed and puffy. "But Herod insisted on dispersing them immediately."

  Kadar pointed at the protesters. "At the rate the throng is growing, you're just asking for more trouble by waiting." Herod's brothers had arrived in Jerusalem yesterday and gone into mourning, even as the family's enemies grew bolder. But Herod had recognized the danger and now moved to overturn the threat. Antipater would approve.

  Nathan coughed and cleared his throat. "Please, except my deepest condolences for your father's death."

  Phasael bowed his head in thanks. Herod didn't acknowledge Nathan. No dirty look. No sharp reply. Nothing.

  The color drained from Nathan's face.

  An uncomfortable silence ensued, finally broken by Herod. "Are you coming with me, Barbarian?"

  "Give me a moment," Kadar said, pulling Nathan aside. He glanced around quickly. Nehonya Onias's home was close by. "My first loyalties lie with..." he caught himself before saying Lydia "...your family. But I owe it to Antipater to aid his sons."

  Nathan nodded. "I'll take Lydia home and wait with her until you send word the city is safe."

  Kadar's eyes went to Lydia. "Don't change your Pesach plans. I'm confident Herod will put a quick end to the unrest."

  Her lovely eyes widened. "Don't worry about me. Watch out for your own safety."

  It had been a long time since anyone cared about his sorry hide. He swallowed. "I'll do my best, woman."

  Nathan and Lydia departed, and Kadar fell in beside Phasael.

  Herod gave the signal for the soldiers to move ahead.

  Kadar cinched his sword belt tighter and glanced over at Phasael. "What did Herod say to Malichus to get him to hand over the control of the army?"

  Phasael grimaced. "Herod didn't ask. He just commandeered them. Took the best soldiers, too."

  Kadar laughed. "Did the men balk?"

  "No. They couldn't pour enough insults on Malichus and Lazarz." Phasael sobered. "Herod will want to talk to you after this is over. He wants a full account of events from everyone present at my father's death."

  Kadar ground his teeth. "Lazarz disappeared right after your father's death. I haven't been able to track the one-eyed fiend down."

  They turned a corner and the small plaza teeming with angry men came into view.

  Swords hissed from sheaths. Kadar drew his weapon. They closed on their prey.

  Herod wouldn't need skilled soldiers to turn this small arena into a death trap. The unarmed protestors would clog the few lanes of escape if they tried to flee, leaving the majority ripe for slaughter.

  One by one the protestors turned away from Antipater's home to face Herod's army. Shouting mellowed to grumbling, then to murmurs, then to silence. But face after face remained full of hate.

  Kadar's blood hummed. He longed to swing his sword until he was too exhausted to lift his arm. He wanted to be enveloped in air saturated with the smells of sweat and blood. He yearned to feel his throat burn from yelling. "What are you waiting for?" he asked.

  "I'm waiting for an apology from these scummy turds for slandering my father's name." Herod's white-toothed snarl radiated pure loathing "I don't hear any apologies. What about you?"

  Kadar grinned and shrugged. "I don't hear a thing."

  Phasael griped Herod's arm. "You can't cut men down in cold blood without giving them the opportunity to leave peacefully."

  Herod pulled free. "They need a hard lesson. Father and Hycranus coddled them, and look where it's led."

  Phasael sheathed his sword. "I want no part of this."

  "Phasael, trust me," Herod pleaded.

  "Do you want Father's death associated with a massacre?" Phasael countered. "Think of Mother."

  The spark went out of Herod's black eyes. "Go. Give them a warning. Tell them to leave the plaza immediately."

  Phasael exhaled a relieved breath and hurried forward.

  "Don't go anywhere, fools," Kadar muttered, watching Phasael plead with the leaders of the protest.

  Herod pulled Kadar aside. Resting his sword on his shoulder, he said, "I want to hire your services."

  "I don't want to be your bodyguard. I plan to take up soldiering in some other part of the world."

  "It involves avenging my father's death," Herod purred.

  Kadar straightened. "Everyone in your father's inner circle believes Malichus had a hand in the poisoning."

  "And what do you think?"

  "I was at the same table with that one-eyed jackass Lazarz and Malichus when your father was killed." Kadar saw the mob begin to disperse. Disappointed, he rolled his shoulders and sheathed his sword. "I'd bet my life they had a hand in the poisoning."

  Herod's face hardened. "I plan to pursue my father's murderers to Hades if I have to. I want your help. What do you say?"

  Kadar flexed his sword hand. "I've been meaning to pay a visit to Hades."

  Herod clapped him on the back. "Good. We will start by having a talk with Malichus."

  CHAPTER 13

  The next morning, after tossing and turning almost the whole night, and hardly sleeping a wink, Lydia rose early, woke Brynhild, and set out to check on her brother. They stepped outside. The air hung cold and wet over Jerusalem, trapping the smoke from the daily sacrifice over the Temple compound.

  They walked quickly through the quiet streets. Kadar had sent word saying it was safe to go out. Still, she breathed a sigh of relief when they reached Antipater's grandiose home and there was no sign of the protestors—or bloodshed. It was foolish to have worried for Kadar's safety. He was an experienced warrior, able to hold his own in a fight against farmers, laborers, and merchants, but she'd been frightened nonetheless as she watched him march off with Herod.

  She arrived at her brother's bedside and was informed he had woken several times during the night and become agitated when trying to recall his accident. Physician Hama had given James a sleep potion a few hours earlier. She sat vigil beside James all morning, unable to stop thinking about her little boy. Her heart ached that he was so close but still out of her reach. Except Kadar had promised to take her to see her precious child. An incredibly kind offer, which she hated to accept, sin
ce she'd already robbed him of six years of his life. She prayed Judith would change her mind, and Alexandra and Nathan would arrive with little James in tow, or with an invitation to Judith's tent.

  By mid afternoon, after a small break to stretch her legs, Lydia excused Brynhild. "Go take a stroll. The fresh air will do you good, and the garden is full of spring blossoms."

  The door clicked closed, then reopened. "I smell baking bread," Bryn crowed. "I mean to find the baker, convince him to give up a few loaves, and stuff myself full while I can."

  Bryn detested unleavened bread, and complained about the lack of raised bread every time Pesach rolled around. "The week will be over before you know it," Lydia consoled her.

  Bryn made a face and banged the door shut.

  James stirred.

  Lydia fussed with the bedcovers.

  Her brother opened one eye and managed a weak scowl. "Physician Hama mixes a foul-tasting drink with more kick than a mule." He touched his brow.

  Relief washed through her. "You look better. You have more color."

  James held his hand out and inspected it. "Hmm, yes, I'm simply pale instead of my usual pasty whiteness. Fabulous news indeed."

  She smiled. "You became upset. Physician Hama wanted you to rest."

  "The concoction was more pleasant than a hit to the head with a hammer, but not by much."

  Lydia gave her brother a quick kiss and a hug.

  "Lydia," James spluttered. "Was that necessary?"

  "Absolutely. I love you and I'm happy you are alive."

  He wiped his cheek. "Our family isn't the kissing and hugging kind."

  "We could be. Perhaps you could learn to enjoy it."

  He pulled his blanket up to his chin. "I highly doubt it."

  Oddly enough, James's grumpiness was a comfort, making her feel at home for the first time since she'd arrived in Jerusalem. She poured a cup of wine and mixed in some honey. "Drink this. It will help strengthen you."

  James grimaced and massaged his forehead. "I remember falling, but everything else is fuzzy."

  "Accidents happen to all of us," she said, then changed subjects before he worked himself up again trying to recall the particulars. "Physician Hama predicts you will be on your feet soon."