Lydia gasped. "What about your family? You could go back to Gaul."
Bryn let out a bleak cackle. "Family? Go Home? I come from a harsh land. Everybody I knew is either dead or old like me. If the long journey to Gaul didn't kill me, my people probably would. They'd see me as a burden. I have no place there." Bryn bent her head. "I'd rather stay with you, if it's not too much of a bother."
"Bother?" Lydia was aghast. She wrapped her arms around the slave and took note of the plentiful white hairs woven through Bryn's thick braids. "You are my dear Bryn. I will find a way for us to be together again."
Bryn returned Lydia’s hug, then set her at arm's length. "I don't like the look I've been seeing in your eyes. I know you're hurting because of little James and fearful of the marriage your father has planned for you. I'm worried about what you'll do."
Lydia gulped back her tears. "Parthia, Bryn. I don't want marry a man from Parthia. I want to live in Jerusalem or in Galilee. I might have been able to resign myself to going back to Egypt, but not this. I won't go. I can't."
"What difference does it make?" Bryn asked. "Parthia and Egypt both have large communities of Jews. You'd be among your own kind."
Lydia's stomach hadn't stopped churning since she read her father's letter, which informed her she was to marry a man of great importance from Parthia. "Father didn't name the man I am to marry or give me one jot of information about him. It isn’t a good sign. I can't endure another dismal marriage, Bryn. I can't."
Brynhild patted her back. "You have no choice but to endure it."
Lydia straightened. "I won't."
Bryn exhaled heavily. "You look like a cornered kitten, all big eyes and claws. And make no mistake, you are in a corner. Think girl. What would you do? Where would you go? No one in Judea will go against your father to help you."
"Alexandra and Nathan would take me in." Lydia winced. "But father would simply take me back, wouldn't he? And he’d probably find a way to make them suffer for taking me in."
Bryn nodded. "The law is on his side. Your father owns you, as surely as your Aunt Sarah owns me. Neither of us is free to follow our hearts."
"I will leave Jerusalem and go to another country."
"And do what? Women with no means end up as whores."
Lydia’s head began to throb. "Someone would marry me. You said yourself men would line up to marry me."
"What if you choose wrong, and you marry a man who beats or abuses you? With no family nearby, who is to stop him?"
"I'll be careful."
Bryn grabbed Lydia's arm. "Tell me why an uncertain path out in the world sounds better to you than marrying the man from Parthia?"
"I'm afraid I'll never see little James again."
"If you steal your baby and run, you will have your father and all of Judas the Zealot's family chasing you down." Bryn shook her. "Are you paying attention to me?"
A knock announced a visitor. Lydia broke away and hurried toward the door.
"Fool-headedness doesn't suit you," Bryn called after her.
Lydia had accepted her fate in the past, and what good had it done her? She grabbed the door handle and yanked.
Kadar filled the doorway. Hair freshly washed and tied back with a leather thong, he smelled of sandalwood oil. His intent blue eyes swept over her. "Are you ready?"
Lydia barely resisted throwing herself at him.
CHAPTER 15
Kadar led Lydia and her slave woman, Bryn, through Jerusalem's near-empty streets. Lydia was unusually quiet. He might be able to ease some of her worries. "I made a quick trip to the Mount of Olives. Your boy is there with Judith, but almost everyone else has come up to the city. I don't anticipate running into any difficulties on that end. And you should have plenty of time to visit. The first group of worshippers is only now entering the Temple grounds to sacrifice their lambs. Alexandra and Nathan and their neighbors from Rumah are waiting their turn with the second group. It would be better for us if they were more slothful and had showed up last, so they had to enter with the group of the lazy."
"The group of the lazy? I like the name," Brynhild said in her native tongue, chuckling. The heavy rasp of her voice and her thick braids conjured up images of the elderly women from Kadar's home village, who would sit around blazing fires spinning tales of wildly successful hunting expeditions, or of bloody raids on neighboring lands yielding mountains of silver and gold.
Brynhild's loyalty to Lydia earned her more favor in his eyes. Knowing it would please, he replied to Brynhild in her language. "Almost all Jews cringe at the thought of being counted among the group of the lazy, nonetheless the assembly grows larger and larger. Some say the nation is growing indifferent, but Herod says it's because more and more pilgrims are coming from afar and the Temple compound isn't large enough to house the expanding crowds."
"What does the group of the lazy have to do with Mistress Lydia?" Brynhild asked.
Lydia poked him with her elbow. "If you are going to talk about me I would like to understand what you're saying."
Kadar purposely kept to the Gaul. "Is she always this feisty?"
Bryn puffed up like a peacock strutting its colors. "Oh yes, lively and spirited, and then some."
Lydia growled, but they both knew there wasn’t a menacing bone in her willowy body.
He stifled a laugh, lest he embarrass her, even if only in front of Brynhild. "It will be some time before the second group leaves the Temple, so you should have a good hour or more to visit with your son."
Lydia sobered. "You've had a busy afternoon, what with checking on both Judith and Nathan. Thank you for everything you've done."
He didn't want her to read too much into his actions. "I was just being careful."
They entered a narrow lane, forcing them to walk single file. Brynhild tapped him on the back. "Before you go feeling all proud of yourself, I think you should be aware that my feisty mistress plans to steal little James and run away."
Kadar halted, did an about-face, and glared at Lydia.
"Brynhild," Lydia complained, sounding more aggravated than angry. "Don't burden Kadar with any more of my concerns. He's suffered enough because of me."
Kadar gritted his teeth. "Brynhild, go wait for us at the end of the alley while I have a word with your mistress."
The pear-shaped slave squeezed by them wearing a satisfied smile.
Kadar backed Lydia against a whitewashed plaster wall. "What's this nonsense about running away?"
She swallowed. "Don't be angry."
"I'm not, but the thought of you out in the world on your own frightens me half to death." He touched the back of his hand to her long, slender neck. She trembled, and not because she was afraid of him. His gut tightened.
"I overreacted to some bad news." Her voice was breathy.
He skimmed his fingers over her smooth, olive skin. "What frightened you?"
"My father sent word I am to marry a man from Parthia."
His hand curled into a fist. "Marry. How soon?" He loathed the idea down to his last fiber.
"Too soon, I fear." Sorrow brimmed in her brown eyes.
He stroked her dusky cheek, desiring her with a soul-deep craving. She was beautiful and refined and utterly tantalizing. And another man was going to take her away.
A feral growl swelled his chest. He took her mouth.
Lydia whimpered, but it was a sound of desire, not fear. His blood heated. Cupping her head, he pressed his lips more firmly to hers. She kissed him back, her mouth hot and desperate. Nectar from the gods couldn't taste sweeter. Her kisses should be for him alone, but another would have her. He nipped at her mouth, her lips parted, and he thrust his tongue deep. Her arms circled his waist and she pressed against him. He lifted the hem of her tunic and ran his hand up her slim, bare leg.
Gasping for breath, Lydia spoke against his mouth. "Kadar, someone might come upon us."
He broke off the kiss. What was he doing? He was close to fornicating with an upright Jewess
in broad daylight, in the middle of Jerusalem, during one of their holy days, for anyone to witness, crawling all over her like an animal. He set her at arm's length. "I shouldn't have kissed you. I swear it won't happen again."
Lydia collapsed against the clay brick wall. "I don't want to go to Parthia. You said you are going away. I want to go with you."
The gods knew he wanted to say yes. "I won't do that to you. I know the cost of leaving everything familiar behind. I don't want you to suffer the same fate."
Lydia frowned. "I was sent to Egypt."
He exhaled heavily. "Did you go among people who worshipped other gods, spoke a different language? A place with no family, friends, or acquaintances. Egypt and Parthia have large Jewish communities. Living among pagans would be very different."
"We would have each other."
"I shouldn't have kissed you. I was—" Admitting he was insanely jealous wouldn't help his argument. "I was curious."
Her chin lifted. "We both know the truth. You desire me." A red flush crept up her neck. "And I desire you."
Jupiter, she was beautiful and desirable and quick-minded and refined, and had absolutely nothing in common with the ill-favored, desperate women who threw in their lot with soldiers. Six years ago he'd been more than ready to help her escape. But he'd been a young stud, ruled by lust. He hadn't given thought to how a highborn Jewess would fare in his rough-and-tumble world. He tried imagining Lydia as a camp follower. "I won't take you to live in an army camp."
She watched him out of wide, innocent eyes. "Why not?"
"Army camps are filthy, lewd, dangerous places, and that's when troops aren’t at war."
"I promise I won't complain."
"You have no idea what you're asking. Military life is uncertain, involving marches to far-off lands, sieges lasting for months or years amid pestilence and disease. Women end up following their men from one dusty end of the world to the other. Soldiers die by the hundreds and their women are passed from man, to man, to man." He reached out and traced his finger over her soft, delicate cheek. "I would rather kill you than turn you into a camp follower."
"Are you trying to frighten me?"
He wanted to shake her, then kiss her breathless. "Everything about me should frighten you."
"Take me with you."
He blew out a frustrated breath. "Woman. I'm a warrior. There's no place in my life for you."
"We could go to Gaul, to your family."
His gut contracted. He clutched his tunic and the amulet beneath. "It's impossible."
"Why?"
"It just is." Home. He'd give anything to go back and bring her with him. And then what? Get them both killed. He stepped back. "Do you want to spend your time arguing with me when you could be with your son?" He was being unfair, but he was desperate.
Lydia flinched, pushed away from the wall, and hurried down the lane, a graceful, bounding gazelle narrowly escaping the jaws of a ravenous lion.
He swiped is hand over his face. The sooner Lydia married the better. Their mutual attraction was stronger than the pull of twenty oxen.
And curse Simeon Onias for arranging another distasteful marriage for his daughter. If anyone deserved a bit of happiness, it was Lydia. Kadar clasped his sword. When the time came, he was going to doubly enjoy killing the detestable man.
He shook his head and laughed mirthlessly. He'd allowed jealousy to render him deaf and blind to a pertinent detail—Lydia wouldn't be marrying the man from Parthia, because Simeon Onias would die before the wedding could take place, even if Kadar had to sacrifice his life, safety, and freedom to make it happen.
***
Lydia marched up to Judith's tent. Her agitation over the kiss—an unsatisfying description for what had passed between them—and the subsequent conversation, left her frustrated and exhausted. She took a deep breath and lifted her fist to knock but encountered a hide flap instead of a door. Kadar and Brynhild stood close behind her. Lydia cleared her throat. "Come forth, Judith of Rumah. You have visitors."
"Grandma, someone's here," a boy's bright voice said. Lydia's heart beat faster.
A moment later Judith's wrinkled face peeked around the tent flap. "I wasn't expecting you until later. But it's probably best for you to meet Judas while it's quiet."
Lydia blinked repeatedly. "You were expecting me?"
"Alexandra and Nathan visited me this morning. They said you are to marry a man from Parthia and your visits to Judea would be infrequent at best." The stooped woman frowned. "They also said my grandson would be unhappy with me if he never got to meet you."
Lydia clamped her mouth shut. Who cared what motivated Judith? Nothing mattered except seeing her son.
Judith waved them away. "Go sit by Nathan's tent and I will bring the boy to you."
Bryn put her fists on her pear-shaped hips. "Don't make my mistress wait too long, or—"
"Bryn," Lydia warned, pulling the slave woman away from the tent.
When they reached the woven mats, she met Kadar's eye for the first time since the alley. "You don't have to stay. Nathan will escort me home."
He regarded her from inscrutable blue eyes. "Do you want me to go?"
"No."
"Good. Because I wasn't going anywhere."
She exhaled a relieved breath. "I was afraid you were angry with me."
"I'm angry with myself."
"Did I miss something?" Brynhild asked.
"No," Lydia and Kadar both said emphatically.
Young Mary came out of her tent and joined them, cradling her daughter in one arm and a swaddling blanket in the other. "Blessed Pesach to you."
Lydia kneaded her tunic. "Blessings to you. I came early. I'm so eager to see my son, I couldn't wait any longer."
Mary invited them sit on the mats circling the cold coals from yesterday's fire. "We are all so happy Judith had a change of heart. You might have a hard time believing it, but Judith is usually very kind-hearted."
Lydia recognized the yellow stitches edging the swaddling blanket as her own handiwork. "Is she good to...to my son?"
"If anything, she is overprotective. Judith says she prevented you from visiting with Judas because she was afraid it would upset or confuse him."
"I don't want him frightened, either."
"Of course you don't." Mary kissed her baby. "You are wonderful with children. Alexandra's boys have talked nonstop about Aunt Lydia and your fun games and stories. We believe Judith is afraid or worried Judas will love you more."
Lydia ran her hands over her empty lap. "I will never forgive her for taking my son away from me."
A pained expression crossed Mary's face. "No, I don't see how you could."
Kadar snatched up a blackened stick resting against the rock-rimmed fire pit. "Little James will learn the truth someday, and woe to Judith of Rumah then."
"Grandma," A boy's voice rang through the campsite. "How come Achan got to go up to the city and I didn't?" Achan was Alexandra's oldest son and little James's best friend. Of course he'd be unhappy about being left behind.
Judith approached them, leading little James by the hand. "Because you have a visitor."
Lydia held her breath.
Little James's brows shot up. "Me? Wow, I must be important. Important men have visitors."
Judith chuckled. "Says who?"
James tipped his head back and smiled. "Grandma, you know. You keep telling me I'm growing up too fast."
Judith embraced him. "Yes you are." She sobered and pointed a finger. "Your mother has come to visit. Go and greet Lydia."
Lydia smiled and waved, and tried not to look overeager.
Suddenly shy, little James clung to Judith's skirt.
Judith and Mary took turns trying to coax him out of hiding. His lower lip began to quiver.
Lydia's stomach sickened. She'd imagined this moment thousands of times, convinced it would be wonderful. Instead, disaster loomed.
Kadar pulled a small knife from his belt and buffed i
t on his sleeve.
Little James sniffed, wiped his hand across his watery eyes, and inspected the knife with interest. "I can throw a knife real far."
"Is that so?" Kadar said. "Achan told me he could throw a knife twice as far as you, but I don't believe it."
"Achan is bigger than me."
Kadar held the knife out. "Do you want to show me how far you can throw?"
James raced to Kadar's knee. "I'm way stronger than Achan. See—" He made a fist and held his arm up.
Kadar squeezed his arm. "Weeping crocodiles, you must be strong as Hercules. Go show your mother."
Little James scooted around the fire, hopped onto Lydia's lap, and made a fist again. She circled her hand around her son's small, solid arm, and pressed. Tears stung at her eyes. "My, you are strong."
His angelic smile revealed a lower tooth hanging by a thread. "Do you want to watch me throw Kadar's knife?"
She resisted the temptation to hug him tight to her chest. "I promise to pay close attention."
Kadar stood. "Watch? I think we should teach your mother to throw a knife."
Little James leaned back into her and giggled. "Girls don't throw knives."
Kadar grinned. "They do where I come from."
Lydia tousled her son's baby-fine hair. "What do you say?"
Little James hopped off her lap, took her hand, and pulled. "Come on. It's easy. I'll go first to show you how to snap your wrist at just the right time."
Heart bursting with love, Lydia jumped to her feet.
"I wish the others were here to watch," Mary said.
Bryn hooted her support.
Lydia paused. Taking knife-throwing lessons on a feast day from a barbarian was not the way to win Judith's approval. The old woman was probably searching for reasons to limit the time Lydia spent with little James.
Her son tugged on her hand. "Are you coming, Lydia? Do you want to me to call you Lydia or Mother? Achan says you are the best storyteller. Do you know any stories about sea serpents?" He blessed her with a hopeful smile.
Happiness flooded in. "Mother sounds lovely. Do you want to hear about scary sea serpents or friendly ones?"
The Barbarian (The Herod Chronicles Book 2) Page 11