Samah pressed her lips tightly together to keep from arguing. She continued to look into his dark eyes, unable to break the contact, her legs seeming to turn to liquid beneath her. He appeared to be probing into her very soul, and she was afraid of what he might see.
A small whine from the table finally caused him to turn away from her. Taking a deep breath, Samah edged away from Cassius while he gave his attention to his dog. Only now was her heart returning to its normal rhythm. Yes, she was afraid of him, but this was something far different than fear.
“I wanted to ask you something,” she finally managed to say.
His dark eyebrow curved upwards as he waited for her to continue.
“I. . .I wondered what had happened to the prisoners who were in the prisons.”
He turned fully towards her, his eyes narrowing. “Why do you want to know?”
The sullen suspicion in his eyes made her hesitate. “My brother was there,” she answered softly. “I would like to know what happened to him.”
He smiled without mirth. “Your brother is a very lucky man, then. Titus had all the prisoners released.”
Samah’s mouth parted in surprise. “But why?”
Cassius shrugged, unwinding the bandage from Sentinel’s thigh. “I assume he thought they would be more loyal to him. Since they were mostly political prisoners that your priests had incarcerated, Titus probably felt they were on his side.” He glanced back at her. “Why was your brother in prison?”
She found it hard to look at him. “They said he murdered someone.”
She had his full attention now. “They?”
“The priests.”
“And had he?”
Samah reached for the crutch that she had been given last night. Steadying herself with it, she still refused to look at Cassius.
“He says he didn’t.”
Cassius leaned his back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. “And do you believe him?”
Angry sparks shot from Samah’s incensed eyes. “Of course I believe him.”
Snorting, Cassius lifted himself away from the wall and came closer. “A sister’s love,” he derided, his voice edged with sarcasm.
Surprised and defensive, Samah wound her arms around her waist. “I take it you have a sister who doesn’t treat you well.”
Realizing that he was opening himself up to explanations he wasn’t willing to give, Cassius turned back to Sentinel and began to replace the bandage on his flank.
“As far as I know, I have no sisters. Nor brothers either for that matter.”
Samah felt instant pity for him. Enemy or no, it must be lonely without a family to care for you. Perhaps that explained his coldness far more than his being a tribune in Rome’s army.
“I’m sorry,” she told him softly.
Straightening, he turned on her a look filled with wrath. “Save your pity. I don’t need it. I don’t want it. Better to save your pity for yourself.”
Commanding the dog once again to stay, he quickly exited the building.
Samah slid down to the floor, curling down onto the mat that had been her bed the night before. She wrapped her fingers around the gold disk hanging from her neck. For an instant, she was tempted to rip the thing off and fling it from her. Prudence dictated otherwise.
Although her heart was still heavy at being separated from her family, she had one bright spot of hope that her brother was even now on his way home. She prayed that Jehovah would keep him safe and that her family would remain safely in Sychar.
THREE
When Titus finally withdrew from Jerusalem, he left behind a smoldering mass of rubble. Deciding to leave three of the fortified towers as a testament to his good fortune and to prove that God was on his side, he razed the rest of the city to the ground.
The Phasaelus, Hippicus, and Mariamne towers stood as a lonely testament to the power of Rome as the captives marched from their midst. Other than that, only a portion of the west wall remained to greet those who would try to prove themselves mightier than the Roman war machine. Soon, even the three massive towers would be destroyed, not a stone left on another. The tenth legion that Caesar had left to guard the city stood at attention while the others passed through their ranks.
In his train, Titus led the most beautiful and youngest of the remainder of the Jews. Many had died of starvation, others were sent to the mines in Egypt, and still others were sold as slaves.
Samah realized that she was more fortunate than most. She traveled with Cassius as his personal slave, and though she was looked at with hatred by the other Jews and covetousness by the other soldiers, she maintained her dignity and pride.
She glanced behind her now as the last vestiges of the holy city of Jerusalem disappeared from view. The once beautiful land around the city was nothing more than a wasteland. The soldiers had done their work remarkably well, and the demoralized Jews marched with their heads hung low. Although the Jews greatly outnumbered the Romans, any thought of rebellion had been crushed.
Vultures swarmed the ruins, and it was only as they finally reached a great distance that the smell of blood was once and for all eliminated from the air.
Sentinel walked at her side, head and ears alert. In the past three weeks the dog had had time to heal, and though he walked with a limp, there was no denying that he was ready for action.
Samah wondered again at Jehovah’s having used an animal, and a dog at that, to save her life. Since dogs were flesh eaters, the Jews looked upon them with hatred. She marveled again at Jehovah’s wonderful love and protection.
Each day she prayed for her family, for the church, and even for Cassius. She knew that everything that happened in life was for Jehovah’s glory, and even with a heavy heart at her forced captivity, she knew she would always trust Him.
After three days, the rain began to fall. While soldiers and Jews alike suffered with the cold wetness, Titus ensconced himself in his tent. Though the soldiers had blankets to warm them and food to fill their bellies, the captives did not. Many became ill and died.
Samah stood at the entrance to Cassius’s tent and watched the huddled mass of people across the way. She longed to go to them, to offer them comfort, if not with food, then with the words of the Lord Jesus Christ. But she knew she would be rejected. Already many considered her Cassius’s concubine. Only a few soldiers knew the truth. Cassius stayed with another tribune and left his tent to her and Sentinel. He chose not to let the others know, for Samah’s protection. Why he should be so considerate she didn’t know; she just accepted it as another blessing from Jehovah.
She saw Cassius coming towards her now through the misting rain. As always, his handsome form left her feeling slightly breathless. He was indeed a fine representative of what a man should be.
Sentinel got quickly to his feet and met Cassius at the doorway of the tent. Long tail swishing backwards and forwards, he stared in open adoration of his master.
Grinning, Cassius bent to him, rubbing him roughly across his body. He spoke gently to the dog before turning his attention to Samah.
“You’ve eaten?”
She shook her head. “No. I was waiting for you to eat first.”
Frowning, he rose to his feet. “That’s not necessary.”
Samah bent her gaze to her fingers twisting the belt on her tunic. “I. . .I wasn’t very hungry.”
Reaching around to loosen his armor, Cassius lifted a dubious brow. Although Samah had been allowed more food than the others, she was still little more than skin and bones. He dropped his chest piece onto the rug.
“I saw you watching the others,” he told her softly.
Her anguished eyes met his. “They have so little, Tribune. Every day more of them die.”
His own eyes sparked dangerously. “Well, if you plan on joining them, you can forget it. Bring something for both of us to eat.”
Although the army usually traveled with light provisions, having Titus with them had increased the availabi
lity of supplies. Samah brought a plate of fruit and bread and placed it before Cassius where he reclined.
“Sit,” he commanded, and reluctantly, Samah obeyed.
Sentinel came and curled himself behind Cassius’s outstretched legs.
Cassius broke the loaf in half and handed a portion to Samah. She took it from him and nibbled at the crusty edges.
“Samah, many of your people die because of their own stubborn pride. They refuse the portions given to them by Roman hands.”
She lifted dark lashes to expose large eyes gilded by grief. “And what of the others? Those who are refused food because they are too old or too sick?”
Cassius shifted uncomfortably, dropping his gaze to the plate in front of him. He took a pomegranate and rubbed it on the side of his tunic. He handed it to Samah and then took another for himself.
“There isn’t enough food for all the captives,” he told her roughly. “It needs to be given to those certain to survive.”
Cassius realized his words sounded hollow even to his own ears. Growing angry, he threw the pomegranate back to the plate and sat up. “Enough of this discussion.”
Samah remained silent as he got up and restlessly wandered around the tent. He looked at her over his shoulder. Some-thing in his eyes set her heart to pounding. For three weeks she had been in his presence almost every day, and each day saw her fear of him decrease to be replaced by a growing attraction. She wasn’t certain which she feared most.
“Tell me about yourself.”
Dropping her look away from his, she lifted one shoulder. “What would you like to know?” she asked, and he didn’t miss the hesitancy in her voice.
Sentinel crawled to her side from where he had been lying, and Samah gave the dog what was left of her piece of bread.
Seeing her reluctance, Cassius’s eyes narrowed. He came back to where she sat and seated himself across from her. The intensity of his look unnerved Samah. She had never been reticent about sharing her story with anyone, but the fact that the man across from her represented all the power of Rome made her hesitate. Romans hated Christians, of that she was certain. But perhaps it was for this very reason that Jehovah had brought her to this position. She would be careful with what she said, but she would be honest.
“I’m a Christian, Tribune.”
His eyes widened in amazement. He said nothing for some time, and Samah could see him trying to digest what she had revealed and how it would affect him.
“I’m surprised that you would admit it,” he told her finally. “Surely you know that that religion has been forbidden by the emperor.”
Samah smiled slightly. “Which emperor? I know of Nero, but I have heard nothing of Vespasian’s thoughts on the matter.”
“Then let me apprize you of his feelings,” he told her dryly. “Should you happen to mention it to him he will most likely have you burned, if not crucified.”
She opened her mouth, but the words dried up in her throat when he reached across the space between them, cupping her chin in his palm. His eyes were dark with anger.
“You will say nothing of this to anyone; do I make myself clear?”
Although she knew that the apostle Paul had said that one must obey one’s master, she also knew that he had said to obey God above all else. She finally managed to push the words out of her mouth.
“I will not lie.”
She saw his eyes darken further. “You will if I command you to.”
It took every ounce of strength she possessed to shake her head negatively. She was more than a little frightened by his rigid stance. His nostrils flared outwards, and he released her.
“If you are foolish enough to admit to such a religion, I will not protect you.”
Cassius looked at her and was mesmerized by the dark promise in her eyes.
“You won’t have to, Tribune. If Jehovah is for me, who can be against me?”
“Rome,” he ground out savagely.
The word shivered through Samah, bringing pictures of the last few months. Indeed, Rome was a powerful enemy, but even the power of Rome had not been able to silence the words of the mighty Jehovah and His Son. Though Rome had tried to stamp out Christianity, the opposition had only caused it to grow. If not for the great persecutions by the Romans, the word would never have spread to the outermost reaches of the empire and beyond.
Paul gave his life, as did Peter and James. As for the other apostles, no one was certain what had happened to them. Only the great John was left. But if the apostles could give their lives, she could do no less. The problem was, she wasn’t certain that she had their strength.
Cassius leaned back upon his outstretched palms, fixing Samah with a steely look. “And your parents? Are they Christians, too?”
Though she had little fear for herself, she wasn’t about to betray her parents.
“Your silence tells me what I need to know.”
Samah felt her stomach clutch with fear. She lifted frightened eyes to the Tribune’s face.
“We are truly harmless, Tribune.”
He laughed harshly, leaning forward and pinning Samah with a glare. “Harmless? I watched a friend executed because he refused to recant such a foul religion. He was a good soldier, but he was taken in by your false beliefs.”
“Not false,” she refuted resolutely. “There is only one God, and He sent His Son to die for the atonement of the world.”
Getting to his knees, Cassius reached forward, grabbing Samah by the shoulders and pulled her face close to his. “You will never speak such atheistic nonsense again! Do you hear me?”
Cassius heard a low whine behind him, but he was un-daunted. Turning his head, he snapped at Sentinel. “Go. Lay down.”
The dog refused to budge, though he made no other move towards them. Cassius turned his attention back to Samah.
“You will remain silent on this issue. That’s an order.”
Samah knew there was no use arguing with him. He had worked himself into a fine state of wrath. Dropping her gaze to the floor, she allowed him to think that she had agreed.
He slowly released her. Getting to his feet, he looked from Sentinel back to her. Leaving his armor where it lay, he ducked out of the tent and disappeared from view.
❧
The journey across the desert was long and arduous. At every province, Titus stopped and took time to relax. He used many of the captives to provide entertainment, and many of them were forced to kill one another or be thrown to the wild beasts. Cassius was careful to keep Samah away from the vicinity of these entertainments, but the rumors of them spread around the camp.
For every person that died, Samah felt her guilt grow. She should share the love of Christ with them before they died. They should know that the Messiah had already come and that He had atoned for their lives. Even if they rejected her message, at least she would have delivered it. Yet Cassius’s command hung heavily on her mind, and she had to admit, she was afraid.
The longer they traveled, the more wan Samah became. It was hard marching hour after hour using a crutch. Even now a sore had been rubbed under her arm, but she tried to ignore it. Regardless of her own troubles, she could see that she was far better off than the others.
Finally, Titus decided to hole up and winter in Caesarea. To keep boredom at bay, the games continued.
After a time, Samah could stand it no longer. She knelt on the ground one night and lifted her face to the star-spangled heavens. “Oh, Lord. I know they rejected You, but haven’t they had enough?” Her voice was ragged with despair. “There will be no more of Your promised people left.”
Words seemed to echo through her mind. Words that she had heard long ago among the congregation of believers. Words the Lord Jesus had told to His disciples.
Whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother.
Jehovah’s people. The ones who do the will of the Father. The Jews had been chosen to be Jehovah’s special people, to bring into the w
orld His only begotten Son, but they rejected Him. Time and time again she knew that to be true. Her own father had been persecuted by his own uncle, as had her own Uncle Adonijah. Together, they had gone to Samaria, a land hated by the traditional Jews, and taught others about the love of Jesus.
She loved to hear the story of how her grandfather’s sister had met Christ at Jacob’s well. He had turned her life around with just a few words of acceptance.
“Samah.”
Jerked from her thoughts, Samah clumsily stood. Cassius faced her across the way, his face shadowed by the light coming from the tent behind him.
“Come inside,” he ordered.
Samah followed him into the tent. One look at his stony face and she could see that he was seething.
“I gave you a command.”
Biting her bottom lip, Samah held out her hands placatingly. “I have not disobeyed your command.”
“I saw you praying just now,” he argued.
“You did not command me not to pray.”
For just a moment he looked confounded. A muscle twitched at the side of his mouth.
“Then let me clarify my order. You are to have nothing to do with this. . .this Christian religion.”
Samah watched him warily. Every time she saw him in all his Roman paraphernalia, it frightened her. Should he so choose, he could give her as the next victim in Titus’s gruesome games. Shivering, she still tried to answer him boldly.
“Being a Christian is what I am. It’s not something that I do.”
Cassius crossed to her, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. He saw her eyes widen in fear. She should be afraid. He wanted to take her and shake her into submission. Never before had he encountered such stubborn resistance, especially from a mere girl.
He was sorely tempted to find a way to make her submit, if not by force, then by guile. She was a challenge to him, and he had never been able to back away from a challenge.
But could he do it? Pictures of those who called themselves Christians floated through his mind. Nothing, not even the fangs of a wild animal, had been able to make them recant. What could he possibly do to ensure Samah’s obedience? He decided to change his tactics. Reaching out, he gently pushed her long, dark hair behind her ears. The clean, silky texture tempted him to slide his fingers through it. Giving in to the temptation, he did so. Something flashed briefly through her eyes, and Cassius didn’t miss it. He took advantage of it, moving even closer.
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