“She went that way,” Ahaz told them, pointing up the hill.
Antonius was already headed up the hill before Jubal caught up to him. “Tell me about this countryside,” Antonius prodded.
“Up higher, the hills become rocky. There’s a deep gorge that has been carved out by a running stream. I don’t think Sara has ever been this way before.”
Jubal’s worry mirrored his own. Antonius took a deep breath, climbing the hill quickly. When he reached the top, he wasn’t even breathing hard. Turning to Jubal, he found the old man had easily kept pace with him. Before long they found Sara’s tracks.
“She’s following an animal’s tracks,” Antonius said in surprise.
“Nopet is Ahaz’s ewe.”
“She’s trying to find a stupid sheep!” Antonius was suddenly, inexplicably filled with anger. He would throttle the girl with his bare hands when he found her.
“She’s very special to Ahaz,” Jubal answered him placatingly, recognizing the growing anger. Was he angry because he was worried or because Sara was making him late?
“There are wolf tracks here, also,” Antonius told him worriedly.
“Then let’s go. We haven’t long until it will be too dark to see.”
They followed the tracks, coming to the place where Sara had been lying on the ledge. The tracks ended abruptly, and there was no other sign.
Antonius was the first to hear the bleating of the ewe. Lying down, he leaned over the ledge. “I see the ewe,” he told Jubal. “But I don’t see. . .wait. . .”
Pushing himself carefully over the edge, Antonius gripped for handholds among the rocks. Slowly he lowered himself down as the last rays of light peeked over the mountains, leaving them in sudden darkness.
“Is she down there?” Jubal asked anxiously.
“Yes. She’s unconscious. It looks like she hit her head on the rocks.”
Antonius stared around him in the dark. He could barely make out the shapes of the hillside and could hear the water rushing below in the gorge.
“Jubal, there’s no way to get her out of here without some rope. You need to go for help.”
Jubal looked around him in the gathering darkness. The moon was gibbous in the sky, which afforded him some light, but not much. He wasn’t sure he could find the same place in the dark.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he told Antonius, turning to hurry down the hill.
Antonius knelt beside Sara. He could feel the stickiness in her hair and knew that it had to be blood. Taking off his mantle, he wrapped it gently around Sara as best as he could without moving her. He was afraid to move her body without being able to see the extent of her injuries.
Sitting down beside her, he took her head gently in his lap. He brushed the dark strands from her eyes, his fingers softly tracing her cheekline. He felt along her shoulders and let his hand rest on her chest. The faint beating of her heart was reassuring, and he sighed with relief.
As he sat in the dark, he could feel himself being watched. Glancing up, he could see yellow eyes peering at him from above.
“No, my friends,” he said softly. “She belongs to me.”
Chapter 13
Antonius didn’t know how long he sat in the dark, cradling Sara’s head in his lap, waiting for help. He petitioned every deity he was familiar with, and some he was not so familiar with. Finally he lifted his face to the night sky, glaring at the fiery stars over his head.
“All right, Sara’s God, whoever You are. Wherever You are. She’s in Your hands. She tells me You love her and that nothing happens without Your will. What did she ever do to deserve this? Hasn’t she been hurt enough? Some protector You are. Twice she has almost died.”
He looked down at Sara’s prostrate form and felt a lump forming in his throat. When had he begun to care so much? How had it happened? What was there about this girl, so unworldly and naive, so lacking in physical beauty, that had touched his heart?
Sighing, he leaned back against the rocks, unmindful of the sharp edges digging into his back. What was he to do now? He wanted Sara more than anything he had ever wanted in his life, but he knew she would never come to him willingly. Was that what made her so intriguing? Was it a desire to possess something that he couldn’t have?
She stirred him physically like no woman ever had, yet he had barely touched her. They had exchanged a few kisses, nothing more, but he longed for more. The very scent of her roused thoughts in him that Sara would consider most inappropriate.
What was most unusual was the love of knowledge they both shared. He could talk to her for hours and know that she was just as desirous to learn more as he. Most of the women of his acquaintance were interested only in the games at the Colosseum or the theater or other such mindless occupations. Sara not only understood what he read from his scrolls but could converse with him intelligently about them.
His hands stroked gently over her forehead. The blood seemed to have stopped flowing, and Antonius lifted his eyes heavenward again. “Thank You,” he whispered, almost sure to which deity he was expressing his gratitude.
Sounds from above alerted him to the presence of the rescue crew. Torchlight brightened the area above his head, and Jubal’s face peered at him from over the ledge.
“How is she?” he questioned anxiously.
“She’s alive; more than that, I don’t know.”
“I’m coming down.”
A rope snapped out from the ledge and quickly unwound as it was lowered toward Antonius. Jubal followed the rope, his large form a suddenly reassuring presence to Antonius. When he reached Antonius’s side, he bent down, taking Sara’s hand in his. His hands swiftly scanned her body, searching for other signs of injury. Finding none, he leaned back on his heels, sighing in relief.
“She hasn’t awakened?”
“No,” Antonius told him, gently lowering her head and getting to his feet.
“I’ve brought help. Let’s get her out of here and back to Ahaz’s,” Jubal told him.
It didn’t take long for them to get Sara to the top of the hill. Antonius and Jubal hurried down the hillside, not waiting to see if the men were able to get to Nopet. Antonius carried Sara in his arms, sweat beading his brow. Jubal was impressed with the young Roman’s surefootedness, even in these parts that were unknown to him.
Jubal touched the mezuzah on the doorpost, following Antonius inside. The darkened interior was lit by one small lamp, the smoke drifting upward to a crack in the ceiling. Ahaz rose from his mat, hurrying to their side.
“What happened?” he questioned.
Antonius and Jubal exchanged glances before Antonius strode across the room and laid Sara against the mat in the corner.
“Nopet fell over a ledge. Sara must have tried to help her,” Jubal explained.
The old man’s face paled as he hurried over to where Antonius had placed Sara. “And Nopet?”
“The men are trying to get her out. I don’t know if she’s been hurt or not,” Jubal told him.
Kneeling beside Sara, Ahaz began to investigate her injuries. He lifted her eyelids gently before turning to Antonius. “She hasn’t awakened at all?”
Antonius shook his head. “I’m not sure how long it’s been since she fell, but the time I was with her, she remained unconscious.”
Ahaz glared at Antonius. “How is it, Roman, that ever since you have been around Sara, she seems to have become unusually accident-prone?”
Rising to his feet, Antonius gave the old man a murderous look. “What are you saying, old man?”
Before Ahaz could answer, Sara moaned softly, turning her head slightly on the mat. Antonius knelt quickly by her side, stroking her dark hair gently from her cheeks and pushing it out of the way. Sara’s eyes fluttered open, and she gazed uncomprehendingly at Antonius.
“Antonius?”
Antonius. Not Tribune. Antonius smiled widely, his blue gaze focused on Sara’s face as realization returned, and with it her usual reticence.
; “What happened?” Sara frowned, trying to recall. “Nopet?”
Jubal came and bent down beside his daughter, taking her hand gently in his own. He grinned. “Perhaps next time Ahaz won’t send a donkey to retrieve his lamb.”
Sara smiled, trying to sit up. Her head began to reel, and the room started to spin. Moaning, she lay back on the mat.
Antonius and Jubal focused their attention on Ahaz, their questions in their eyes. He was already preparing one of his concoctions and refused to look their way. Going to Sara, he bent and helped her to drink the brew. Within minutes, she sighed, released from the pain.
“She hit her head, or something hit her head. I don’t know which. Regardless, the only injury I can find is to her head. Everything else seems to be fine.”
“Aren’t you going to give her something to make her sleep?” Antonius wanted to know, distressed that Sara would be suffering from the pain. Her face was so white, and she lay quietly, her eyes opening and then drifting closed again.
Ahaz frowned at him. “No. She needs to be awake so that she doesn’t drift into a deeper sleep than that from which she has already awakened. I have seen it happen before.” Ahaz sat down next to Sara, settling himself comfortably on the mat. “We have a long night ahead of us. I need to make sure Sara stays awake.”
Jubal was torn. He knew his wife would be frantic with worry. “I need to tell Abigail, but I will come back.”
“I’ll stay,” Antonius told him firmly.
Although Sara was awake, she was in a surreal world with no thoughts of her own. Her mind drifted in and out of focus, and she felt unusually free from any worries. Even her father’s anxious face caused nothing more than a slight feeling of regret.
“She’s fortunate,” Ahaz told them, “that she landed among the grass. It was thick enough to prevent her serious injury.”
“God protected her,” Jubal declared, a song of thanksgiving rising to his lips.
Antonius felt the hair prickle on the back of his neck as Jubal recited words that Antonius had read among the Jewish scrolls. Words from their king David.
Jubal left shortly with a promise to return. Antonius made himself comfortable across from Ahaz, the only thing separating them being Sara’s prostrate form. Antonius shifted uncomfortably as Ahaz continued to stare at him. The old man made him nervous. It was almost as though he could see inside his mind.
Ahaz hurried to the door when he heard a disturbance outside. Flinging open the portal, he let out a cry of joy as a sheep was thrust into his arms by its disgruntled rescuers. Thanking them profusely, Ahaz hurried to lay the sheep down and inspect it for injuries. Finding no serious ones, he began to scold the ewe gently even as she hurried to what was, Antonius supposed, her favorite corner. Only when the ewe had settled for the night did Ahaz turn again to Sara.
As Ahaz ministered to Sara, Antonius watched him warily. There was something on the old Jew’s mind, and Antonius had no doubt Ahaz would come out with it sooner or later. Time passed slowly, and Antonius chafed at the inactivity. He felt like he should do something.
“Relax, Roman. There’s nothing we can do now except wait.”
Antonius studied the man curiously. “You don’t like me, do you?”
Ahaz snorted. “I suppose you’re all right. For a Roman.”
One dark eyebrow winged its way upward. “Such praise might go to my head. You should use it sparingly.”
This was met by a cackle of laughter. Antonius recognized the wisdom behind those deep brown eyes and realized that he would like to have this man’s respect.
Ahaz began to speak in Aramaic to Sara, trying to keep her awake. He would switch periodically to Greek and then to Hebrew. Antonius recognized the tactic. Sara would have to try to concentrate on what he was saying, which would help her to stay awake.
Antonius stared at Sara’s pale face. When her eyes switched to him, she smiled slightly, and Antonius felt his heart respond.
“You are so handsome,” she whispered, and Antonius raised his eyebrows, his glance flicking to Ahaz.
“She’s unaware of what she’s saying. The drug I gave her confuses the mind but relieves it of pain.”
Antonius frowned. Her whispered words had filled him with happiness, but now he wasn’t sure. What did she really think of him? Did she know how much he cared for her? Did she feel the same? She responded to his kisses, but that was only a physical reaction. Antonius knew he wanted more. Much more.
Smiling down into Sara’s eyes, he decided to take a chance. “As you are beautiful,” he told her softly, bending forward and touching his lips to hers. When he lifted his head, Sara reached her hand up and gently stroked her fingers down his cheek before letting her hand fall limply back to her side. Closing her eyes, she sighed softly. Antonius leaned back, content for the moment to leave things as they were.
Ahaz opened his mouth to speak but was startled into silence when thundering hoofbeats passed the old hut. Antonius went to the door, recognizing the jingling of Roman cingula as the horses went by. He opened the door quickly, but they were already rounding the bend. Frowning, he closed the door and returned to sit beside Sara. Although her eyes were dazed, they were focused on him.
What were Roman soldiers doing here and at this time of night? His eyes met those of Ahaz, and he saw the same question mirrored in their mysterious brown depths.
It was only moments later when they heard the horses returning. Jumping to his feet, Antonius reached the door just as the horses stopped outside. Before he could release the latch, someone started to pound furiously on the door.
Antonius flung the door open and stepped back in surprise when Flavius strode past him and into the room. Taking off his helmet, his gaze scanned the room before coming to rest on Antonius.
“I heard what happened. Will she be all right?” He nodded his head in Sara’s direction.
“It would seem so.” Antonius smiled wryly at Ahaz. “It appears that Jewish people have hard heads.”
“Not any harder than your sister’s,” Flavius told him, clearly aggravated. There was something more in his attitude, and the smile left Antonius’s face.
“What’s wrong?”
Sighing, Flavius pushed a hand through his dark hair. “Diana has disappeared.”
The color drained from Antonius’s face. “What do you mean, she’s disappeared?” he asked hoarsely, grabbing Flavius by the front of his cape.
Flavius pulled a small scroll from his belt. “She left this for you. She sent one to me, also.”
Antonius took the scroll and quickly unrolled it. His eyes scanned the brief message, and Flavius could see them darken with his anger.
“What did yours say?” Antonius demanded.
Flavius rubbed a hand across his face, raising pain-filled eyes to Antonius. “She says that she cannot marry me and that it would be wrong before her God to do so. I have had soldiers discreetly searching the city for her all evening.”
Antonius gritted his teeth in frustration. “How can she have disappeared? Where could she have gone? She wasn’t well enough to have walked far.”
Antonius thought back over the last two weeks. Diana had worked hard every day, practicing her walking. She had seemed almost driven in her efforts to get back on her feet. Now he understood why.
Antonius glanced back at Sara. He had to find Diana, but how could he leave Sara like this? Fear began to worm its way through him as he realized that he might possibly lose one or the other. Ahaz could see the indecision in Antonius’s face and got up from his mat, ambling across the room until he reached Antonius’s side.
“Sara will be fine,” he told Antonius. “All she needs now is to rest. Her strength will return before many days, though her head may ache much longer.”
Antonius sighed with relief. Going to Sara, he hunkered down beside her. “I will return for you in three days,” he told her softly, letting his hand slide down her arm and squeeze her hand.
She watched him with unfocuse
d eyes. Frowning, Antonius knew there was nothing more he could do here right now. He would find Diana and then come back for Sara. Getting quickly to his feet, Antonius strode past Flavius and out the door. Flavius turned swiftly on his heel and followed.
“I brought Orion from the old man’s house.”
Antonius nodded, swinging himself to the horse’s back. “Let’s go!” he commanded.
When they reached the villa, Antonius dismounted, handing the reins to Gallus. He turned to Flavius. “Have you no idea where she could be?”
Sliding off his own mount, Flavius shook his head. “I hoped that you would.”
Antonius leaned against Orion. “By the gods, Flavius, what’s happening? Everything is going to ruin. Nothing’s the same.”
Flavius felt Antonius’s pain, realizing in that way they had something to share. “I don’t know, Antonius. Why would Diana run away? She said she loved me.”
Antonius didn’t answer. What could he say? He was only now beginning to understand himself. At first he had thought that Sara’s God wasn’t a very strong God since He hadn’t been able to protect her from the things that were happening to her. After talking with Diana, he wondered if perhaps these things were caused by the one Diana called Satan instead. Perhaps this Satan was trying to destroy Sara and her family, and instead, Sara’s God had intervened on their behalf. He had witnessed some incredible things where Christians were concerned.
A sudden thought occurred to Antonius. “Do you have any idea where General Titus lives?” he asked.
Flavius looked surprised. “General Titus? I haven’t heard his name mentioned in years. Why do you ask?”
“Come inside and I’ll explain. Then we’ll see if we can find him or one of these other Christians. Maybe Diana is hiding out with them.”
❧
Antonius knocked at Jubal’s door and waited. Moments later, the door opened, and Abigail faced him. She stood back wordlessly and waited for him to pass.
Sara was sitting by the counter in the kitchen, slicing cucumbers into a bowl. She looked up, her face suffusing with color.
“Tribune. I’ll only be a moment.” She placed the knife on the counter and got to her feet.
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