Frantic to escape, Alexandra fell back on her heels. Feet hopelessly tangled in the hem of her gown, she toppled over backwards and came to rest in a pair of outstretched arms.
CHAPTER 5
Alexandra Onias’s delicate back pressed warm against Nathan’s chest. Tempted to pull her closer, he set her back on her feet.
Alexandra’s white dress was covered in dirt and her head covering hung down her back, exposing her long, thick hair to view. She cried out in dismay and clapped her hands to her head.
Nathan went to work helping her right the heavy drapery. Loose tendrils of hair floated about his face. Hints of lily of the valley teased at his nose. Transfixed by the riot of brown curls, he allowed his gaze to slide lower, following the trail of shimmering locks down to the small of her back. The ringlets twirled frustratingly out of sight beneath the edge of the elaborately embroidered scarf. Resisting the urge to pull a curl free, he helped her draw the band of white cloth back into place.
She raised her face to his. Like a lamb caught in the wolf’s mouth, pure terror radiated from her gray eyes. “Lydia is here. I saw Lydia.”
He scanned the crowd. Seeing no sign of the bandit named Judas, he turned to the idiot making the unholy ruckus. Phillip Peter was ruthlessly savaging Alexandra to protect his spotless image. The fool needed his neck wrung. Alexandra Onias’s good name had already suffered enough harm.
Nathan pointed a warning finger in Phillip’s purple-tinged face. “Leave the girl alone.”
Absolute quiet descended over the vineyard.
Satisfied, Nathan turned his attention to the stunned onlookers. “This was nothing more than a simple accident. Alexandra Onias came to the vineyard tonight at my sister’s request. This is Mary’s first maiden dance. She has dreamed of this evening all her life. It would be cruel to allow a small misunderstanding to ruin her happiness and the other girls’ joy.”
Facing the white-clad maidens, he said, “Come, girls, return to your dancing.” He called out to the musicians, “Play. Play.” A few awkward notes sounded, and then the familiar rhythm once more filled the air. The girls stood rooted in place. “Dance, dance.” He waved his arms in a shooing motion at the wide-eyed maidens, coaxing and cajoling until they formed a line and linked hands.
The girls glanced nervously between him and Alexandra. If she balked, all was lost. Nathan stopped before her. Her soft gray eyes met his. He whispered low and urgent, “Dance, Alexandra. Laugh and dance as though nothing is amiss, or you will be ruined forever.”
She took a tentative step.
He smiled and nodded encouragingly.
Alexandra nudged Mary with her elbow, who in turn prodded the side of the girl standing next to her. More jostling ensued, but finally, like an ungainly camel caravan getting underway, the maidens’ procession lurched into motion.
Nathan walked alongside, teasingly hectoring them. After one trip about the vineyard path, most of the girls were laughing and skipping. Another turn around the leafy trail and Alexandra Onias managed a weak smile.
Assured all was well, Nathan took a spot among the circle of onlookers and shared a smile with Mary and Alexandra each time they whirled by.
Minus the cold veil of upper-class refinement, Alexandra appeared the incarnation of the pretty, young maidens who had haunted his dreams from his youth onward. Worry and unhappiness eased, she moved with easy grace. Her eyes sparkled bright, putting the brilliance of the rising moon to shame.
Too soon the dance came to an end. Loud shouts of congratulations drowned out the last fading notes of music. “Blessed marriage, Joseph and Judith! Happiness and joy, Phillip Peter and Martha!”
The middle-aged priest standing next to Nathan slapped his back. “Long life and happiness to you and your bride on this fine night.”
Taken aback, Nathan opened his mouth to straighten out the misunderstanding. More calls of felicitation rained down on him.
“Blessed marriage, Nathan and Alexandra!”
“Peace and prosperity, Nathan and Alexandra!”
He clamped his mouth shut again.
“What has happened here?” James Onias stood at Nathan’s side.
Nathan had stared at Alexandra far too long, making people believe he wished to marry her. And she had stared back at him, the traditional signal for accepting a proposal.
His heart sank. He wouldn’t be able to talk himself out of this, not with a family member as a witness. “Tell your father to expect me tomorrow to negotiate the terms of the marriage contract.”
***
After asking a friend to escort Alexandra and James Onias home, and answering his family’s noisy questions, Nathan escaped the campsite and headed for a quiet refuge. The gnarled trunk of a squat olive tree at his back, he ran his fingernail over an oblong olive leaf. Its clean, light scent filled the air.
The memory of Alexandra’s warm back pressed against him returned. She was all loveliness and beauty. And he’d be taking her to live in a one-room house made from mud and fieldstone.
He crushed the leaf, tossed it aside, and lifted his face toward heaven. “Is the jest on me or her? Because I’m not sure whether to laugh or cry.”
Moonshine winked at him through the leafy canopy. He pounded the ground with a balled up fist and shouted at the dark. “I didn’t want to marry.”
The outer darkness spoke back. “So, go hang yourself.”
Nathan jumped to his feet and reached for his sword. His hand came up full of air because, foolish him, he no longer carried a weapon.
A point of steel dug into his back.
“Are you armed?” a familiar voice asked.
“Be careful with that thing, Bear,” Nathan said.
The hairy man laughed.
Two dozen men appeared and fanned out in a circle. Nathan’s neighbors. One face stood out in particular. “Silas? Who’s watching over your sheep?”
The thin man’s hooded eyes burned brighter. “I gave the flock to my brother.”
Dread flickered inside of Nathan. The shepherd had turned dark and moody after the death of his wife. He was a man with nothing to lose and they made the most dangerous of opponents.
Judas the Zealot stepped out of the shadows.
Nathan shot a dirty look at him. “Hezekiah told me you were up in the mountains.”
Judas laughed. “I will be soon enough.”
“What do you want with me?” Nathan growled.
An unkempt beard dominated Judas’s plain face. “I wanted to offer you another chance to join us.”
“Why? Was terrorizing young women and studious men too taxing for you?” The sword in Nathan’s back twisted deeper.
Judas waved Bear away. “This is your opportunity to redeem yourself, Nathan. Help us drive the Romans out of the land.”
“I’ve said no, more than once.”
Judas signaled for someone to step forward. “I thought your upcoming marriage might change your mind.”
A young woman appeared. Judas touched his hand to her elbow. “Tell your future brother-in-law where your loyalties lie.”
Nathan wasn’t sure what he found more amazing—the speed with which the news of his accidental marriage proposal had traveled through the pilgrim’s camp, or coming face-to-face with Lydia Onias. Alexandra had said she’d seen her sister.
Lydia moved closer to Judas. Her voice was a mere whisper, “No King but the Lord.”
The earnest recital of the rebel anthem chilled Nathan to the bone. He addressed her with due gentleness, “Lydia Onias? Your family is worried about you.”
The young woman flinched.
Judas interceded. “Lydia is my wife.”
Nathan’s fist balled. He wanted to beat Judas into the ground for what he’d done to the young woman. “I would hear it from the girl.”
Judas handed Lydia off to Silas and turned back to Nathan. “Tell Simeon Onias to go back to his careful study of the Torah and leave Lydia to me. Tell him it is a wiser and healthier path.�
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“Are you mad?” Nathan held his hand out toward the captive woman. “Lydia.”
Judas shoved Nathan backward. “Keep out of this, lest my men and I pay an unwelcome visit to your farm.”
“You viper!” Nathan lunged for Judas.
A dozen men launched themselves at Nathan, knocking him down.
“Let him up,” Judas yelled.
Nathan climbed to his feet. He searched for Lydia, but didn’t see her. “Lydia Onias, step forward.”
The rebel leader stepped closer until he was nose to nose with Nathan. His breath smelled of roast lamb. “Go home and live in peace. Forget about Lydia. Forget about me. And I will let you and yours live in peace.”
Then the rebel leader slowly backed away and vanished into the dark with his men.
Nathan scrubbed his face. He started to follow after Judas, but stopped. “Job’s bones!” He punched the air. “I need a sword.”
***
“The bridegroom is at the door.” The slave’s announcement bounced off the stone walls and high ceiling of the dining alcove, rattling Alexandra to her core. Hands shaking, she set a tunic and the blue and white fringe used to decorate it beside her on the reclining couch.
Nathan of Rumah had come.
“Good tidings, daughter.” Her father addressed her without looking up from the scroll he and James were studying. “Nathan of Rumah possesses at least one worthy trait. He is a man of his word. It will save me the odious task of taking him to court to make him marry you.”
James spun the toy top he’d been fiddling with. “Heaven knows the poor farmer does not possess much more than his good word.”
Alexandra squirmed in her seat. She hated the thought Nathan was being forced to marry her.
“What of the dowry?” James asked, scooping up the spinning red top.
“Yes...” Father gave a quiet laugh. “I expect the farmer’s humble offering to at least amuse.”
“Why not ask a service of him like the patriarchs in the days of old?” James cast a mocking look at her. “Surely, our Alexandra is worth more than a few trifling amphora of olive oil. Task the bridegroom with slaying Judas and finding Lydia. It should be relatively easy with Lydia walking about Jerusalem in plain sight.”
Alexandra looked down at her lap. Father and James had laughed in her face at her insistence she had seen Lydia at the maiden’s dance. The rest of the night had been taken up explaining to Father why an olive farmer would appear today to make a marriage proposal, a task that proved difficult, because everything had happened so quickly. Worry for her sister had the merit of saving Alexandra from dwelling too long on her own predicament. But the time of reckoning had arrived.
She trembled. Lord, be merciful.
Father gave a great sigh. “Daughters are a sore trial. Come, girl...” Distracted by something of interest in the text, he paused to ponder it. An agonizing amount of time passed before he finished his thought. “You have kept your prospective husband waiting long enough. Go greet the man you played the whore with.” The characterization of the preceding evening’s events, though predictable, hurt. “Since you are on such familiar terms with the man, you may wash his feet.”
“Me?” Positive she’d misheard, she looked up. “But Goda usually—”
“Daughter.” Fixing a withering look on her, he said, “You best find ways to serve your husband. The angels know you won’t be much use to anybody on a Galilean olive farm.”
She flinched. The reproof stung, for it hit directly on her fears and doubts. She stood.
James snickered. “Poor, Alexandra. You will stand out like a lily in a turnip patch among the other farmers’ wives.”
She sighed.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” James said.
Father’s face twisted. “Alexandra deserves what she gets. Has not the sage said, ‘the marriage of the daughter of a learned man and an ignoramus will not be a successful one’?”
Alexandra hurried out, lest her father pound her over the head with further wise sayings. Arriving at the front door much too quickly, she slowed and approached the small alcove off the main door as if venturing toward the pits of hell. Her heart sped up at the sound of sandals pacing over tile. She stopped. Father and James were right. A marriage between her and the olive farmer would be a disaster.
She must convince Nathan of Rumah a proposal wasn’t necessary.
She took a deep breath.
Nathan poked his head around the corner. The large brown eyes trained on her were as inscrutable as they were long-lashed and beautiful. Was he angry with her for getting him into this horrible mess? Or, like her, terribly embarrassed?
Summoning up her courage, she edged her way past the large stranger filling the doorway. She had spent all morning telling herself Nathan of Rumah was not so different from Father, James, and Phillip Peter. The nearness of his powerfully built body incinerated the lie to ashy nothingness.
Goda appeared with a carafe of water. The bald slave handed her the container and disappeared before she thought to stop him.
She rushed to fill the washbasin. Water splashed everywhere.
“Let me.” Nathan took the carafe from her trembling hands. His fingers brushed over hers. Her breath caught. The roomy alcove suddenly felt small and cramped. “My feet are clean,” Nathan said.
“Father insists everyone wash their feet before entering his home.”
Nathan shrugged, sat on the bench, and reached for the tie of his sandal.
She knelt and brushed his hand aside and tugged at the bow fastened about a muscled calf. Fingers moving as though they belonged to someone else, she unwound the tie and slipped the sandal off his foot.
“You can speak to me. I don’t bite.” Nathan’s deep voice reverberated through her.
The sandal clattered to the floor.
She bit her lip. A three-legged donkey had more claim to grace than she. What a fuss. And over such a simple task. She and her sister had sat in this very spot many, many times washing the dust from each other’s feet.
She dared a look. “Forgive me.”
He offered her a small smile.
His full lips and soft mouth mesmerized. Heaven above, she was staring.
She reached for the other sandal. Shaking, she fumbled the leather tie into a stubborn knot. Her face heated. She sat back. Her eye was drawn to an old wound, a wide gouge running through the meaty part of his lower leg. She winced. It had to have been excruciatingly painful. She traced her fingers over the long, puckered scar. It must have occurred while he was fighting with the Jewish army.
She drew in a sharp breath. An ex-soldier was here to negotiate a marriage contract for her. A soldier. Panic rose like vomit. They’d never suit. She’d been raised to be the quiet, dutiful wife of a religious man. Nathan needed a wife as bold and lively as he. She’d be too dull and bland for him.
Nathan’s hand covered hers. “This is not necessary. I made a point of visiting the ritual bath closest to your home. If my feet are clean enough for the Temple grounds, they are clean enough for your father’s house.”
“You don’t have to marry me,” she said. “I release you from any obligation you feel you owe me.”
Goda reappeared. “May I be of assistance?”
“Leave us,” Nathan ordered, his scowl ferocious.
The slave turned and fled.
Nathan released her hand and patted the bench, inviting her to sit next to him. “Slaves are useful creatures, are they not?”
Puzzled by the turn of the conversation, she frowned.
Nathan bent forward and laced up his sandal. “The slave was sent to catch us spending time alone together, so he can testify against me in court if I refuse to marry you.”
A sinking sensation took hold. “Father said something about taking you to court.”
Nathan exhaled heavily. “I’d almost convinced myself your father would refuse my marriage proposal. But it appears he wants us to marry. Do
you know what he hopes to gain by it?”
She squeezed her eyes closed. What are you up to, Father? “I think it might be related to our trip to Galilee.” She made herself look Nathan in the eye. “I never should have gone to your camp. You don’t need to pay for my mistake. Go, and I will tell Father I sent you away. But...but...” Her lip trembled. “Could you...could you continue to search for Lydia?”
Nathan’s brown eyes softened. “I keep my promises. And I told your father to expect me today, so we could negotiate the terms of our marriage contract.” He stood. “Take me to your father.”
She sighed and rose to her feet. Lord, this is no way to start a marriage. Have mercy. Move in my father or Nathan. Help them to see what a mistake this would be.
***
Nathan followed Alexandra, steeling himself for the coming interview with her father. The tidy alcove occupied a small corner of an open-air court featuring a rectangular reflection pool. His doubt doubled when he saw the rich surroundings. The stone walls and paved floor of the courtyard were decorated with colorful tile mosaics. Elaborate stone archways stood opposite each other, leading to the wings of the grand home. A tangle of dried melon vines trailed up the twin stone staircases climbing the walls to the upper rooms. What was he doing in a rich man’s home?
The thought of taking Alexandra Onias to the humble dwelling he had grown up in made him sick. His sturdy house wouldn’t fill one corner of this two-story behemoth. Her bed chamber was probably bigger than his whole house.
“Which room is yours?” he asked. Lattice-screened windows looked out over the courtyard. A matching set of windows lined the exterior walls. The interior shutters stood open to catch the autumn breeze.
“There.” Alexandra stopped and pointed to a spot over the front entryway. “Lydia and I share it.” She faltered. “I saw Lydia last night. And I froze. And next I knew, people were congratulating me on my coming marriage.” A rosy flush crossed her cheeks. “My father and brother do not believe I saw Lydia.”
The Warrior (The Herod Chronicles Book 1) Page 4