Three black-clad Pharisees approached, wearing unhappy faces. “Alexandra Onias, why aren’t you wearing a proper veil?” The tallest one demanded.
Alexandra froze.
Nathan straightened. “Direct your questions to me, sirs. I am her betrothed husband.”
Wearing piety like armor, the men held fast. “You must be the olive farmer from Galilee,” another of them said. “You haven’t had the advantage of sitting under proper teaching we enjoy in Jerusalem, so I will do you the favor of offering a warning. If you allow your wife go about with an uncovered face, she will use her wiles to entice men into adultery. Women are weak, unfaithful creatures. They can’t help themselves.”
Nathan managed to hold onto his patience. “While I appreciate your concern, I have consulted the scriptures and my conscience on this matter and I must respectfully disagree with you.” The Pharisees’ mouths flopped open. Nathan turned to Alexandra and James. “Come along,” he said, walking away from an argument he had no hope of winning.
“I want to go to the bazaars,” James demanded.
Nathan nodded. “Very well. I want to take a look at the weapon smith’s swords.”
Alexandra’s step hitched. “Swords?”
CHAPTER 7
During feast weeks festival-goers descended on Jerusalem’s bazaars as thick as locusts, buying up spices, medicines, metal goods, and the countless other items a trip to a major city provided.
Nathan paid no attention to the crowds. He couldn’t stop watching Alexandra and her wide-eyed amazement at every little thing in the bazaar. They stopped before a display of alabaster perfume bottles. She reached toward a miniature white vial, but pulled her hand back at the last instant.
Nathan picked up the small bottle and pressed it into her hand. “No one will mind. The merchants want you to take a closer look.”
She smiled and ran her thumb over the chalk-like stone.
“Is this your favorite market?” he guessed.
“I don’t have a favorite.”
Nathan nodded. “My sister loves them all, too.”
“No, um...” Alexandra blushed. “I, ah, never visit them, so...”
He arched his brows. “Never? You truly have never been permitted to visit the bazaars?”
She winced. “Father says a woman’s place is at home.”
Nathan’s mouth snapped closed. He knew Pharisees lived lives of seclusion, but he had never imagined the extent of their isolation.
James snatched the alabaster jar away from his sister and plunked it back down on the mat. “Women are weak creatures. I’m surprised Alexandra hasn’t collapsed from the unfamiliar excitement.”
Nathan burst into laughter. From what he’d seen, Alexandra Onias wasn’t the fainting type.
Alexandra bit her lip, as though trying not to smile. “I appreciate your concern, James. But, I’m not tired.”
James shot a sour scowl at her. “Who said you were?” He stomped off.
Alexandra sighed.
Nathan sobered. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to laugh. I would go mad if I was cooped up as you have been. How do you bear it?”
She rubbed her arms. “It’s been terribly quiet without Lydia to keep me company.”
He exhaled a heavy breath. “We will get your sister back.”
Her eyes met his. “When?”
“Soon.” Someone bumped into him. “Let’s catch up with James.”
They found the boy at the weapon smith’s stall.
Rows of blades glistened under the midday sun. Nathan picked up a sword with a broad, flat blade. Weighted and balanced perfectly, it felt made for his hand. He slashed it through the air.
James looked over Nathan’s shoulder. “Are you going to buy it?”
Nathan laid the weapon down and traced his finger over its smooth length. “No. It’s too costly.”
“Ask Father for the money,” James said picking up a jewel-handled dagger. “Or borrow the coins. You will soon be rich as Croesus. You’ll be able to buy anything you want then.”
Nathan rubbed his neck. He didn’t trust Simeon Onias and wouldn’t be indebted to the man. But he didn’t feel it would be wise to admit it. “The money is not mine, not yet. But, I know someone who will lend me a sword.”
A blade swished past his nose.
He leaned back and threw a protective arm in front of Alexandra. “Put it down before you hurt somebody,” he ordered, adding under his breath, like yourself, young idiot.
James reluctantly obeyed.
Nathan hefted the jeweled dagger. Holding it up to the sun, he inspected the blade. “When you are fighting close enough to feel your enemy’s breath on your face, the swifter man will fare best. Carry a light knife.” He pointed the blade at James. “The tip could save your life.”
The boy cringed backward.
Alexandra gave a small cry. Her eyes were locked on the dagger held to her brother’s scarred face.
Who was the careless idiot now?
“Forgive me.” Nathan threw the weapon onto the table. “Would you mind if we leave the market now? I need to make another stop.”
Alexandra and James blinked and nodded.
Nathan led them out of the bazaar and through a set of arched gates. Leaving the old city behind, they followed the Second Wall. The sound of steady chinking filled the air even before the worksite came into view. Improvements to the city wall were underway, some ten years after Nathan and his fellow soldiers had broken it down taking Jerusalem away from an opposing band of Jews.
His stomach knotted. He was a bloody man, one more comfortable handling a sword than a pruning hook, and he had no business marrying, especially not a highborn woman who had led an extremely sheltered life.
He glanced over at Alexandra. Composed once more, a rosy color suffused her cheeks as she watched as the stonemasons wrestled an oversize block into place, raising a gray cloud of dust.
Nathan scanned the construction site, searching for Herod, but couldn’t see his friend anywhere. “Stay here, while I go speak to the master builder,” he said.
James walked on. “I want to take a closer look at what they’re doing,” he called over his shoulder.
Nathan’s teeth ground together. “Is your brother always this obstinate?”
The clatter of hooves over stone drowned out Alexandra’s answer. A large white horse charged toward them. Alexandra gasped and backed up against him.
Recognizing the ruggedly built rider, Nathan’s frown gave way to a smile.
Herod pulled the powerful animal to a rearing halt, slid off the horse, and tossed the reins to a surprised stoneworker. Winded and laughing, Herod exclaimed, “Olive farmer! I have a message for you. But first, I have to have a word with my master builder.”
“Please excuse Herod,” Nathan told Alexandra.
She released her breath. “Does he always crash about headlong like this?”
Herod was speaking animatedly with the supervisor, gesturing wildly with his hands, explaining what he wanted done.
Nathan laughed. “I’m afraid so. Next to fighting, nothing fires Herod up more than building things.” Nathan pointed to James, who was standing beside Herod, listening intently to what was being said. “Watch and see if Herod doesn’t talk your brother into helping him.”
Alexandra looked skeptical. “My brother hates getting dirty.”
“Herod is a hard man to say no to. And I ought to know. He convinced me to help him dig many, many holes and to lift thousands of rocks.”
“Why? What were you building?”
Nathan gestured broadly toward Herod. “We were young and believed we were destined to be mighty soldiers. So, we copied Roman tactics, like building temporary shelters each time we bedded down for the night. Only Herod always wanted to construct elaborate defenses and, more often than not, he convinced me to help.”
The master builder and Herod had finished their business. Herod said something to James, and led the boy over to the surveyors�
�� station.
“See?” Nathan shook his head and laughed.
The surveyors moved off, giving Herod and James access to the groma, a long wooden pole with a cross arm attached to the top. They took turns looking down the cross arm, the older man giving the younger man a lesson in surveying.
Alexandra’s brows furrowed. “What are they doing?”
“Checking to see if the wall is level.”
“Father would love it if James showed half this interest in his studies.”
Nathan’s lips curved upward. “Herod can be very engaging when he wants to be. The first time I saw him, he was racing a huge, white stallion across a valley floor. He was stretched out over the horse’s neck, urging his mount forward. He outraced and outshone every other horseman there.”
The fateful day was stamped like a seal on Nathan’s memory.
Herod pulling his horse to a stop a hair’s breadth from Nathan. Although he was only twelve years old at the time, Nathan stood his ground, impressing both himself and Herod.
Herod jumped off the magnificent horse and offered the reins to Nathan. “Give it a try?”
A large group of boys gathered around them.
Ignoring the snickers behind him, Nathan looked up, up, and up into the stallion’s wild eyes. He reached a hand to the horse’s flaring nose. Warm puffs of air hit his face. A soft muzzle filled his palm. “Pray, yes,” he replied.
Herod petted the horse and spoke softly to it. “We have a brave one here, Ajax. Pray, do not try, straight off, to break his neck.”
“Indeed, Ajax,” Nathan’s voice broke and squeaked. “allow me one turn around the valley before sending me to my grave.” He turned to Herod. “My name is Nathan of Rumah in case you, ah, need to bear my remains home.”
Herod threw his head back and laughed. When he got his wind back he said, “I am Herod of Idumea.”
Nathan didn’t see any hint of guile or mockery hidden in the other boy’s steady black eyes. Lord be praised because Nathan had his heart set on riding the magnificent horse.
Herod pressed his face affectionately against the stallion’s long white neck. “Ajax is fussy about who rides him. I had better give you a few instructions before you climb aboard the evil devil.” Herod reached over and punched Nathan’s arm companionably. “Though I expect you will do a fine. You have the look of a born horseman about you.”
Nathan shrugged. “And that was that. From then on, when I came to Jerusalem with my family for the feasts, I spent all my time around Herod’s fire. We soon became fast friends.”
Eyes the size of dinner plates, Alexandra asked, “What made you leave the army?”
“My family had need of me,” Nathan lied. “My mother died and my father’s health failed, I returned home to run the farm.” Coward, coward, coward. The truth was that he had learned to hate being a soldier. When he received word of his mother’s death, he hadn’t been able to get home fast enough.
An ox-drawn cart filled with stones rattled past, putting an end to the uncomfortable conversation.
“Olive farmer!” Herod came roaring back toward them. He cupped Nathan’s face and kissed him on both cheeks. “Happy marriage to you, young fox.”
Nathan clapped Herod on the back. “At the speed the news is traveling, it ought to have reached Egypt by now.”
“You saved me a trip,” Herod said in his usual big and booming voice. “I planned to pay you a visit later, to invite you to the banquet High Priest Hycranus is hosting tomorrow night in honor of my father.”
Nathan groaned. “You know my answer. I promised my family I’d stay clear of your father and his behind-the-door intrigues.”
Herod stumbled backward in exaggerated fashion. “My father involved in secret plots? Your lack of faith wounds me.”
Nathan grinned. “If you were on stage, the audience would be pelting you with rotten fruit.”
“Jerusalem needs a theater to liven things up.” Herod wriggled his brows. “Or, even better, a Roman-style bathhouse. It’s mind-numbingly boring around here.”
“A bathhouse in Jerusalem?” Nathan rolled his eyes. “Are you insane?”
Herod’s smile widened. “Come to the banquet. It’s the least you can do, since you are going to drag me into the wilds of Galilee in hunt of your highway bandits. Come, and you can petition my father for help. He always liked you. I bet he’ll offer you men and money.”
Nathan glanced over at Alexandra. She was gazing at him expectantly. He expelled a resigned breath. “What time do you want me there?”
“The food and drink starts flowing at sundown.”
Nathan looked down and scuffed his sandal against the ground. “You wouldn’t happen to have a sword I could borrow?”
Herod burst out laughing.
Nathan straightened and frowned.
Wheezing, Herod pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “Only a few thousand hidden close buy. I’ll dig one up for you before tomorrow.” He turned his lightening-bright smile on Alexandra. “Are you sure you can handle this brute? To this day, my father’s army talks about Nathan and how he single-handedly cut down a squad of men. They call him—”
“Don’t say it,” Nathan roared. “Not another word.”
Alexandra went unnaturally still.
CHAPTER 8
Stone grated against stone, drowning out Herod’s laugh.
Alexandra focused on the stoneworkers pushing another carved block into place. They wiped the dust from their hands, stood back and examined the city wall. James joined the workers and struck up a conversation.
She finally let herself look at Nathan. He wore a pained expression. Her heart ached for him. Though rattled by the image of Nathan as a bloody warrior, she wasn’t going to give Herod the satisfaction of gloating over it. Herod was the brute, not Nathan. She turned and scowled at the overgrown bully. “I’m sure Nathan was a skilled soldier.”
Herod ignored her and clapped Nathan on the back. “Good luck in your marriage.” Then he strode off.
Nathan rubbed at his neck. “This was a bad idea. I’ll take you home.”
“No it wasn’t.” She moved closer to him, touched her elbow to his, to show him she wasn’t frightened or repulsed by him. Full of questions, she said, “I hope we are able to go out for another walk before you go back to Galilee.”
James joined them and waved a finger in her face. “For shame, woman, you are barely espoused and already nagging.” He turned his frown on Nathan. “Go on without me. I’m going to stay and watch the work on the wall.” Not giving them a chance to reply, James walked away.
Nathan offered her a tentative smile. “If anyone is a clamorous woman, it’s your brother.”
She breathed easier, seeing the tension leave him. “My brother would be outraged if he heard you comparing him to a woman.”
Nathan led her back to the road. “Your brother and father need a lesson in kindness. My mother would have set the goats on Father and me if we had dared treat her so.”
“Truly?” she asked, astonished and amused.
Eyes alight with fond memories she could only envy, he said, “No, but she threatened it often enough.”
Alexandra smiled. She hadn’t had enough smiles in her life, an injustice Nathan of Rumah appeared determined to correct. Praise heaven. “Do you even own goats?” she asked.
“Yes, and sheep and chickens.” He shrugged. “It is a farm, with all the usual smell and dirt.”
Oh. She hadn’t considered the unpleasant aspects of farm life. She quickly compared it the quiet bed chamber waiting her return. “I believe it will suit me.”
Nathan offered her a doubtful look.
She opened her mouth and closed it. No amount of assurance on her part would convince him she was hardy and able, rather than fragile and needing protection. She would make the best farmer’s wife who ever lived, she told herself. Fresh doubts arose. She pushed them away.
They walked in silence past houses and shops. People filled the str
eet, rushing about preparing for the festival. They came to a repaired section of city wall. Nathan stopped and nodded. “Here’s where we came over. Herod was on one side of me and his father on the other side. I was frightened half to death.” A haunted look filled his eyes
A chill went through her. “In the final battle?” she asked. Jerusalem had changed hands three times in five years during the last war.
“Yes.” Nathan exhaled heavily. “It’s been ten years. Can you believe that?”
She tried picturing him, marching with the Roman soldiers. “You must have been just a boy.”
His smile was grim. “I was seventeen. Herod was sixteen. We were big for our age and full of ourselves.”
A young girl herself then, she’d been sick with fright and done what she could to comfort her terrified brother and sister. Nausea rolled through her, recalling the horrid screams and bloodthirsty shouts.
“You killed my nephew.” The accusation came from behind them.
Nathan flinched.
An elderly bent-backed man stood in the doorway of a nearby house, staring hatefully at Nathan.
Alexandra moved closer to Nathan.
The man’s wrinkled face reddened. “I saw you do it.” He pointed at the very spot in the wall they were discussing. Spittle flew from his mouth. “You cut John down like he was a dog.”
“Your nephew should have stayed inside,” Nathan said, the tension vibrating off him.
“Let’s go,” Alexandra whispered.
The old man tossed a hateful look at Nathan. “My nephew was an ardent supporter of Hasmond. He couldn’t stay home.”
People began to gather around.
“I’m sorry,” Nathan said. He took her elbow and steered her past the onlookers.
“Murderer!” the old man yelled after them.
Nathan hunched his shoulders and lengthened his stride. Alexandra walked faster. They rounded a corner.
The Warrior (The Herod Chronicles Book 1) Page 6