“Why not?”
“Because they believe women are liars and mischief-makers.” She choked on a sob. “I swear I saw Lydia.”
“I spoke with your sister.”
“Thank the Lord.” Relief flooded her voice. “My prayers are answered.”
He reached his hand to his neck and rubbed the tightening muscles. “Surely you have not been asking the Lord to give you an olive farmer for a husband.”
She twisted her hands in the folds of her tunic. “Thank you for being so kind. You are a good man.”
His conscience roared to life. “There are things you ought to know about me.”
“Good, you agree with me...we shouldn’t marry.”
“That’s not what I said.”
The bald slave came around the corner. A few moments later, Nathan stood off to one side of the dining alcove listening to James and Alexandra try to reason with their father. They knelt before the old man, who was seated regally on a long couch surrounded by a surfeit of plush pillows. The grand opulence of the palace-like home lost much of its luster in the presence of the master of the house.
“Lydia is dead to me.” Simeon Onias’s perpetual scowl had worn deep grooves in his sober face. “I will hear no more of the matter.”
James frown was equally grim. “Judas is making us look foolish.”
“Us?” The disdainful smile Simeon offered his son curdled Nathan’s stomach.
James’s scarred face turned ashen.
“Please, Father,” Alexandra pleaded.
“Silence!” Simeon pointed a finger at his daughter. “You and your sister are a pair of wanton harlots, deserving of your mercenary husbands.”
Nathan flinched. Mercenary?
Alexandra glanced back at him. Her mortification on his behalf cooled his ire.
“Father,” Alexandra tried again. “Lydia has done nothing wrong. Don’t abandon her to the bandits.”
Simeon turned purple with rage. “Hold your tongue, woman.”
Nathan stepped forward and glared down at the hateful man. “Perhaps we should move on to the betrothal.”
Simeon Onias’s less-than-pleasurable company made Nathan wonder if Lydia wasn’t better off where she was. Mad and wrong-headed as Judas was, he was also engaging and charismatic.
Simeon directed his anger toward Nathan. “Do you plan to double your dishonor by refusing to marry my daughter?”
“You see that I am here.” He was happy to marry Alexandra, if only to take away her from her wretched father.
Simeon narrowed his eyes at him. “Why isn’t your father with you? He should be here to negotiate the marriage contract on your behalf.”
“My father’s health is failing.” Mindful of the courtesy due an elder, Nathan moderated his tone. “He sends his regrets. Have no fear, he gave me careful instructions for the mohar. ”
“Yes, yes, I accept whatever gifts your family can offer for my daughter,” Simeon said.
Nathan and his father had struggled long and hard to come up with an appropriate gift for the esteemed family. The price the groom’s family paid to the bride’s family for the privilege of marrying their daughter was a simple matter among the poor. He wished they hadn’t bothered.
Nathan held onto his temper. “Why are you willing to part with your daughter for so little? Surely there are men with more wealth than I have who would be willing to overlook recent unfortunate events in order to marry a priest’s daughter?”
Simeon’s lips curled in a nasty smile. “I’m glad to see you’re not a total ignoramus.”
Nathan spoke through clenched teeth. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
The obnoxious man crooked his finger.
Nathan knelt on a pillow so they were at eye level.
Simeon propped his chin on his hands. “Why you, a lowly nobody, you are asking yourself. As the scriptures say, they that plow iniquity and sow wickedness, reap the same. My daughters have shamed me. They deserve unworthy husbands.”
Nathan’s fists itched to knock the smirk off the pious man’s face. “While it’s gratifying to know my iniquity has been of benefit to someone, I hope you won’t take offense when I make your daughter the happiest woman in Judea.”
He glanced back at Alexandra. Flustered, she looked away. He hoped he wasn’t giving her false hope. He stood a better chance of being named the next emperor of Rome than he did of fulfilling the outlandish boast.
“You?” Simeon laughed. “You have chosen a shoe too big for your foot, olive farmer.”
James snickered, a foreshadowing of the merciless banter Nathan was likely to endure for marrying above his class.
“I wasn’t looking for a shoe,” Nathan reminded them.
Simeon picked up a sheet of parchment and waved it in Nathan’s face. “You will soon be rich, but I fear you will always have a poor man’s mind.”
“Rich?” Nathan echoed, wary. It was customary for the bride’s parents to offer the groom a gift on her behalf. His expectations had been modest. How much money were they talking about?
“Read the dowry contract to him,” Simeon said, passing the parchment to his son.
Nathan snatched the document away from James. “I can read.” He deciphered the pertinent parts. The dowry was generous. Very generous.
Holy angels in heaven—marriage to Alexandra Onias was going to make him ungodly rich.
CHAPTER 6
Alexandra held her breath and watched Nathan read the marriage contract. His guarded face gave nothing away. The generousness of the dowry was worrisome. Nathan wasn’t in a position to demand a single shekel, never mind a fortune. The money would come with strings attached. Nathan must suspect as much. Perhaps he’d turn it down.
She shifted in place. Say no, Nathan. Please say no.
Father laughed and leaned forward. “So, the Romans taught you more than just how to kill, did they? Delightful. I hadn’t counted on having a thinking man for a son-in-law.”
Nathan tossed the parchment at her father. “I accept your terms.”
Alexandra’s breath left her lungs in a big whoosh. Of course he said yes. No man in his right mind would walk away from a small fortune. She’d been a fool to think otherwise. Her heart sped up. God save her, she was going to be a farm wife. She might as well grow feathers and call herself a duck.
Nathan turned to her. Her mouth was hanging open like a sacrificial ox who’d had its neck slit open. His brow furrowed and a pained look entered his eyes. She didn’t mean to hurt or insult him. She clapped her hand over her mouth. Again, probably not the most encouraging of signals.
Her neck and face felt red-hot. She put her hand to her throat. She could do better. “I am sure the marriage will prove pleasing.”
Nathan faced Father. “I do have one stipulation. I want to wait until spring to marry.”
Sweet relief filled Alexandra. Six months. She’d have six months to prepare for the marriage.
Father tossed the contract aside. “Why wait? Do you need time to get over another girl?”
Alexandra froze. The possibility hadn’t occurred to her. A handsome, well-formed man like Nathan must have many admirers. He ought to be married already. What if he’d been waiting for someone special? She couldn’t look at him. She didn’t want to see it in his eyes if it was true.
His warm voice filled her ear. “My heart is free.”
She swallowed. “I’m glad of it,” she whispered.
Nathan sat back on his heels and speared her father with a dirty look. “We need to wait to shut the mouths of the gossips. We can’t have anyone saying our first child is illegitimate.”
She gasped and touched Nathan’s arm. “I’m not...they didn’t...you don’t believe...”
Nathan’s warm, steady hands enfolded hers. “I know nothing happened. Even if it had, it wouldn’t stop me from marrying you.”
Flabbergasted, she couldn't make her mouth work. Nathan of Rumah was full of strange ideas. And, he was holding her hand. He acted
as though nothing was amiss. If men and women held hands in the privacy of their homes it was news to her.
“He has country manners,” James complained.
Father wrinkled his nose. “Army life corrupted him.”
Nathan squeezed her fingers and released them.
She clasped his hand and gave him a steady look. “I don’t mind.”
His smile reached his eyes. He turned to her father. “If you can spare your daughter, I will take Alexandra out for a walk.”
Bubbles of laughter rose inside her at the idea of Father missing her company.
Father shook his head, as she knew he would. “I won’t have my daughter traipsing all over Jerusalem like some common maiden.”
Nathan stood and pulled her to her feet. “I want to introduce your daughter to her new life, and we need to spend time getting to know each other.” His hand tightened around hers. “I refuse to enter the marriage bed as strangers.”
Her face heated. Head-swirling thoughts intruded.
“Talk now,” Father sputtered. “No one is stopping you.”
“We are going out for a walk.”
“I gave you my answer.”
Nathan grabbed up the marriage contract and waved it in father’s face. “Do you want me to sign this or not.”
“You won’t walk away. Not with so much money at stake.”
Nathan just smiled. Alexandra wanted to throw her arms around him. She didn’t quite understand why he was marrying her, but clearly it wasn’t for her father’s money.
Father opened his mouth and closed it again. He looked Nathan up and down. “You’ve got audacity to spare, I see.” Father rang the small bell he always kept at his side.
Goda appeared with inkpot and stylus.
Nathan took the brass pen, dipped it, and held it over the paper. He turned to her. “Are you satisfied with the terms of the contract?”
“Olive farmer,” Father’s voice was condescending. “You are the head of the household. You decide what’s best for her.”
Nathan arched his brow at her. “Alexandra?”
Her mouth went dry. A drop of ink plopped onto the parchment. His question was genuine. He wanted to know her thoughts and concerns. She had no idea what was in the contract. “Is it fair to you?”
The corner of his mouth lifted with a wry smile. “It’s more than fair.”
“Then it pleases me as well.”
Father made an exasperated noise. “Do you want to ask Goda what he thinks?”
Nathan winked at her. Putting stylus to paper, he signed with a flourish, writing his name in large, looping letters.
She smiled to herself. Nathan of Rumah might be a penniless farmer, but he wasn’t about to grovel at the feet of other men, no matter how rich or important they might be. He was a man a woman would be proud to call husband.
Father snatched up the contract. “Go for your walk, and take James along. Alexandra needs an escort for decency’s sake.”
“Come along, James,” Nathan said agreeably, taking hold of her hand again.
“One more thing, olive farmer...” Father blew on the parchment to dry the wet ink. “Try not to be the total barbarian. Keep your hands off of her in public, at least.”
Nathan dropped her hand and the color drained from his face. He walked away without a backward glance. Alexandra hurried after him, pushed along by her father’s cruel laugh.
***
Nathan paced about the open-air courtyard, waiting for Alexandra to retrieve her cloak for their walk. His fists curled and uncurled. He wanted to go back into the dining alcove and smash Simeon Onias in the face, except it would prove the hateful man correct when he’d called Nathan a barbarian. Not that the prudish Pharisee’s opinion meant anything to Nathan. No, it was Alexandra he was worried about. Did she see him as a barbarian?
He heard her door open. He walked over to the staircase leading to the upper rooms. Alexandra paused on the top step. A tremulous smile crossed her lips. His muscles went slack.
She’d exchanged the heavy veil covering her face for a bluebird-colored headscarf. The bright blue accentuated her gray eyes and thick, dark hair, making them all the more striking. But what had the blood draining from his head, was the sight of her full, red lips.
“Why did you change your veil?” he asked, his voice thick.
Her eyes widened.
He clasped his hands behind his back and pretended an interest in the melon vines climbing the garden wall.
The tap of her feet skipping over stone had the air backing up in his lungs. She stopped on the last stair. “I thought it would please you. The wives and daughters of farmers don’t wear heavy veils.”
Her anxious voice had him looking back at her. “Long veils are too cumbersome for the work they do. But, I don’t expect you to dress like Mary and Rhoda.”
“I want to.”
The faint scent of lily of the valley curled around him. He swallowed. A woman didn’t put on perfume and pleasing clothes if she was repulsed by a man. “Veil, or no veil, you please me.”
She blushed, and looked engagingly flustered. “Where are we going on our walk?”
Tempted to kiss her, he took a step back. “Where would you like to go?”
“Anywhere but the Temple.”
He laughed. “That is a decisive answer.”
She turned brighter red. “I didn’t mean to be disrespectful. Father believes it best for women to stay at home. So the Temple is the only place I ever go.”
“Amen,” James called out. A ball of impatience, he stood at the door with his hand on the latch. “The one time Father did take Alexandra and Lydia somewhere we were attacked by bandits.”
“Why was your father in Galilee, anyway?” Nathan asked, the question nagging at him anew. “Pharisees are a rare sight there. And I’ve never seen one in Upper Galilee.”
Brother and sister shared an uncomfortable look.
James fidgeted some more. “Father was asked to examine pieces of stone found by a shepherd, who claimed he had found a fragment of Moses’ tablets of commandments. Next we knew we were racing off to Galilee.” He traced his finger under the stitched scar crossing his face. “But, the bandits found us before we found the shepherd.”
Nathan raised a brow. “Similar stories go around from time to time. But, strangely, none of the shepherds I know have said anything about it.”
Alexandra frowned. “I fear Father might not have been telling us the truth.”
James yanked the door open. “He won’t let me ask a single question about the cursed trip.” All gangly arms and legs, he tramped outside.
Nathan led Alexandra out onto the marble-columned porch. Her face lit up. “Goda is building the sukkah. ”She clapped her hands in delight. “Sukkot is my favorite feast.”
Her enthusiasm over the temporary shelters being erected for the coming harvest celebration was endearing. Most of the Onias’s neighbors were outside their large homes, constructing similar looking sukkahs.
Alexandra sighed. “I’ve always wanted to help build the sukkah.”
“Goda looks like he could use some help,” Nathan said, and headed down the stone stairs. Alexandra remained rooted in place. He turned back. “What’s the matter?”
“Father wouldn’t want me to help.”
“I bet he wouldn’t,” Nathan mumbled, going back for her. He almost took her hand, but caught himself in time. He couldn’t wait to take her home to the privacy of the farm.
Loud clapping sounded next door. An elderly priest had his hands raised toward heaven, celebrating the placing of the last branch atop his sukkah. The old man, his sons, and his grandsons would sleep in the small hut each night of the festival week, as a reminder of the time when the Hebrew people lived in tents in the wilderness, without permanent home or country.
Alexandra came down the steps. “Have you and your family built your booth yet?”
He bit down on a laugh. “We don’t have to. We already sleep in te
nts.”
“Oh, I guess you do. Will you continue to live in tents now...now that you...” Her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink and she lowered her eyes.
“Now that you have made me rich,” he finished.
She glanced up.
He winked. “There is nothing to be embarrassed about. Neither of us planned for it to happen. But, as for buying or building a home in Jerusalem for the required pilgrimages to the Temple, I don’t know.”
Nathan rocked back on his heels. His eyes swept over the marble and stone homes lining both sides of the road. This district was a new one. Most of Jerusalem was far older and more modest. Hezekiah, Judas and the other rebels loved to complain about the Roman or Greek influences spoiling the purity of the Holy City, and these homes represented everything they hated. He tried to imagine himself living in one.
He shook his head. “Ten years ago, I’d have loved the idea. Now our tent, and being a part of the generations of pilgrims who gather every year in the Kidron Valley, suits me very well.” But he couldn’t ask Alexandra to live in a tent, even if it was only for a few weeks each year. He rubbed the back of his neck.
“Are you coming?” James said, waiting for them on the edge of the street.
Nathan gave Alexandra an apologetic smile. “Could we discuss this later, after I’ve had time to digest the change in my, ah, circumstances?” He made a face. “Being rich is more complicated than I expected.” He waved to James. “Come and help me and your sister finish the sukkah.”
“Father told Goda to build it,” James said, but he trudged back to the half-finished hut and picked up a palm frond.
Alexandra rushed down the stairs and joined her brother. Nathan followed. She took a spindly myrtle branch from Goda and laced it among the leafy olive and palm branches.
James pushed the slave aside and threw a frond onto the flat roof.
“Be careful to leave the branches loose, so the stars can shine through,” Nathan instructed.
The neighbors all stopped and stared, but Alexandra and James were too engrossed to notice. A lemony smell enveloped them as Alexandra passed the final branch to her brother. “Here, you do it.”
James stood on his tiptoe, looking for the perfect spot. He held his tunic against his body and stretched his arm out to thread the myrtle branch into place. Then he wiped his hands clean while Alexandra clapped. A muted cheer went up along the street, and James raised his arms and smiled, a rare and pleasant sight.
The Warrior (The Herod Chronicles Book 1) Page 5