Timothy hugged Nathan around the waist and looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. “Even though she’s too bossy, I...I miss Mary.” He buried his face in Nathan’s tunic and cried silently, his little shoulders shaking.
Nathan gritted his teeth and patted the boy’s head. Forget the funeral! Forget waiting until morning! Forget level-headedness! Reality grabbed him by the throat. His only chance of finding Judas quickly was to follow his tracks. But since Nathan couldn’t make the sun stay in the sky, he had no choice but to wait.
Kadar set the water pitcher on the lip of the well. “I doubt it will make you feel any better, but some good might come from the wait. There’s an excellent chance Herod and his company will reach us before nightfall, giving us more men for the hunt.”
Nathan gave Kadar a hard look. “Come morning I’m leaving, whether Herod’s here or not.”
“I’ll be right beside you.”
Nathan pinched the bridge of his nose to stem the headache threatening to blow his skull open. “We can leave well before sunup, if...”
“...if I follow Judas’ tracks.” Kadar finished for him. “Go take care of your father and leave me to worry about everything else.”
Nathan nodded and repeated one of his father’s favorite precepts. “Let tomorrow take care of tomorrow.” There’d be no more gentle advice from his father, the next day, or the day after that. Or ever. He exhaled heavily.
Kadar squeezed his shoulder. “Your father was a good man.”
“There was none better,” Nathan agreed. A man of prayer who loved his Lord and his people. One couldn’t ask for a more faithful and loving husband and father. He lifted Timothy into his arms.
Kadar frowned. “And here comes one of the most worthless men ever born.”
Simeon Onias stopped a few paces away. Nose swollen to three times its normal size, it was stuck high in the air. “Stop jabbering with this heathen swine and tell me your plan for rescuing my son.”
Nathan narrowed his eyes at the hateful man. “Insult my friend again, and I will break more than your nose.”
Simeon swiped his hands through the air. “Save your bluster for the outlaws.” He pointed to his red snout. “I suppose I have to expect this sort of animal behavior from a man called the angel of death.”
“You are on very dangerous ground,” Nathan growled.
Simeon plucked at his costly robe. “I will overlook the brutish attack if you will reconsider commanding my army.” He cocked his thumb at Kadar. “I’ll give Hercules here twice what Antipater pays him to become my man.”
Nathan and Kadar advanced on Simeon.
The Pharisee held up his hands. “Wait, wait, wait.” He pedaled backwards. “Do as I say, or I promise to take you to court and see that you receive a public lashing.”
Kadar’s boom of laughter filled the yard. “What a strange little man you are. Running away like a chicken and squawking threats as you go.”
Nathan stuck his finger in his father-in-law’s face. “Seal your wicked lips and listen to me, very, very carefully. You will leave my home and go into Rumah and offer half your wealth for news of Judas’s whereabouts. After that, you will go through the rest of Galilee making the same offer.”
Simeon’s scowl deepened. “You disappoint me. I had such high hopes for you.”
Nathan hefted Timothy higher. “Go...before you tempt me to do something that will give the court a legitimate reason to try me.”
“You will pay for your impertinence,” Simeon warned.
Nathan raised a brow. “My father is dead. My wife and sister are captives to a madman. What more could you do to me?”
The wicked man’s eyes flicked to Timothy.
Nathan patted his brother’s back. “You want threats? I’ll give you a threat. If you don’t do everything in your power to find Judas, I promise there won’t be enough locks or doors or strong walls in the world to save you from me.”
***
The funeral arrangements made, Nathan, Timothy, and Rhoda sat in the main tent, sitting shiva over Joseph’s linen-wrapped body. The cries of the wailing woman rose and fell. Nathan rubbed his burning eyes. How were Lex and Mary? Were they cold and hungry? Or sick, or injured?
The tent flap opened. Rumah’s town elders filed inside. Bartholomew, Old Zeb, and Thomas the Younger kneeled down beside Joseph’s cold body.
Nathan’s fist balled. These men hadn’t killed his father, but their encouragement and approval of Judas and Hezekiah’s raids on Roman sympathizers made them guilty in Nathan’s eyes. His nod was stiff and formal. “How good of you to come and help put Father into the grave.”
Bartholomew reached his hand to Nathan’s arm. “Now, Nathan, you and your father brought this on yourselves.”
Nathan glared at the fat fingers circling his arm and then at the elder’s jowly face. “This is not the time or the place.”
Bartholomew snatched his hand back. “Of course. By all means. I meant no disrespect.”
Old Zeb spoke up, “We came to do what is right.”
Nathan saw red. “Do right? You bar my father from synagogue. Excuse his death to my face. Do you call that right?”
The wailing woman’s undulating keening grew frenzied.
Rhoda stood. “The time grows late. We ought to begin.” She looked to have aged ten years.
Nathan scrubbed his face. What was he doing? His father would expect better. He removed his sandals and took his place beside his father. The elders took off their sandals. At Nathan’s signal, the four men lifted the bedroll turned funeral bier. Timothy walked at his side. Rhoda and the wailing woman led them outside.
Rocks dug into Nathan’s feet. A stiff breeze buffeted the bed. Somber-faced guests filled the yard. Duty called for everyone to drop what they were doing to accompany the dead to their last resting place. Most of Rumah was here. Rot them and their feckless friendship.
A pair of flutists joined the wailing woman. Hiring them had taken the last of the family’s money. Oftentimes professional mourners and musicians offered their services for free, out of respect or liking for the deceased. Did any of them step forward for Joseph? No. Curse them.
The women and the musicians went ahead of the bier, the men went behind it. Rumah’s womenfolk kept their distance from Rhoda. Curse them. Surrounded by her four sisters and scads of nieces, his stepmother did not want for company, although Mary’s absence from her mother’s side proved as jarring as the orange flare of the dying sun.
The procession moved a short distance. Bartholomew waved it to a stop. He and the two other elders stood back, making way for the next bier bearers. His father’s cousin, Potiphar, slithered into place and took hold of the bedroll. Nathan shook with outrage. Potiphar refused to speak up for Nathan and Joseph when they were thrown out of Rumah, but had the audacity to offer his help, after it wasn’t needed? What a hypocrite.
The parade lurched on. Someone took up the funeral dirge. “He that dwells in the secret place of the most high shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, he is my refuge and my fortress: my God, in him will I trust.”
The rest of the mourners joined in. The words stuck in Nathan’s throat.
The ninety-first Psalm was repeated many times over, and the parade stopped at regular intervals to allow more and more men the honor of carrying Joseph’s body—the hypocrites. They reached the cave turned crypt. Nathan took a deep breath. Pinhas rushed forward and grabbed a corner of the bedroll. Nathan glared at his old friend.
Hypocrite, hypocrite, hypocrite.
The bier moved forward. Dark walls closed around Nathan. He lowered the bedroll to the ground one last time. The others left. Nathan knelt by his father’s side. He touched the white linen shroud. He ought to say a prayer. Recite a piece of scripture. A loud roaring filled his head. “You already seem so far away from me, Father. Why can’t I sense your presence?” He squeezed his eyes closed. “I’ll never forgive them for this. Never.”
He s
tumbled blindly out of the cave. The stone closing the grave slid into place. Bartholomew recited the first line of the sanctification prayer, “May His great name grow exalted and sanctified in the world that He created as He willed.” The mourners joined their voices to his. “May He give reign to His kingship in your lifetimes and in your days.”
Nathan stared at the people, watched their mouths move—the same mouths that had remained silent when he and his family were run out of Rumah, and when Judas attacked his family.
The prayer ended. The congregation parted into two lines. Nathan remained rooted in place. Rhoda and Timothy took hold of his elbows and steered him toward the aisle formed by his neighbors.
Bartholomew and his wife were first in line. They stared at a point below Nathan’s chin and offered the traditional words of comfort, “May God console you, together with all those who mourn.” Here was the time for the couple to say something kind or thoughtful about Joseph. They sealed their lips shut.
Sick to death of the pompous bore, Nathan moved on to Old Zeb and his wife. The couple studied their feet and mumbled, “May God console you, together with all those who mourn.” Though they’d known Rhoda since she was born, they didn’t spare a single encouragement for the grieving widow.
Nathan gave a low growl.
Rhoda patted his hand. “It’s all right.” She pulled him ahead.
Pinhas and Martha were next in line. Pinhas stared past Nathan’s shoulder. “May God console you...”
Nathan shook free of Rhoda and shoved Pinhas. The solid stonemason fell back a step. Nathan followed. “Liar! You’re nothing but a filthy liar.”
Pinhas’ face turned bright red.
Nathan whirled around and scowled at his neighbors. “Listen to you and your lying tongues,” he accused. “Where were you when I begged you to turn Judas over the authorities? Where were you when Judas left Rumah and headed here? Where were you when Judas killed my father and kidnapped my wife and sister?” He pointed to the trail leading to Rumah. “Go. You weren’t here when we needed you. We don’t want you now. Go!” he thundered. “Go.”
A child started to cry.
Nathan charged at Bartholomew. The startled man turned and fled. The others scattered.
Nathan righted his tunic. Timothy leaned against his mother. Rhoda circled her arms about her son. They watched in silence until the last person slipped out of sight.
***
It was black as pitch inside the tent. Nathan lay wide awake, waiting for the endless night to pass. Timothy still clung to him after having cried himself to sleep. At least Rhoda’s breathing came low and steady now. Kadar had commandeered the small tent after booting Simeon Onias off the farm. The big man had followed Judas’s tracks north to the foot of Mount Meron, so they would head out to Mount Meron a few hours before dawn and start tracking Judas from there.
They’d received no word from Herod.
Nathan touched Timothy’s head. Nathan had decided that once this was over he would leave Rumah. With his father gone, there was no good reason to stay. He didn’t want to live side by side with the people responsible for Joseph’s death. Nathan planned to pledge his loyalty to Herod, a man who’d proved a true friend.
A distinctive noise had Nathan sitting up. Splat. Splat. More rain pelted the tent. Why? Why? Why? his mind screamed. He scrambled to his feet, dislodging Timothy. The boy woke up whimpering.
“What’s the matter?” Rhoda asked her voice anxious.
Nathan took two steps in the dark and tripped. “Job’s bones!” he complained, kicking his sandals out of the way. He felt his way to the tent opening and threw back the flap. Fat raindrops hit his face. “Pray, Rhoda,” he yelled. “Pray it doesn’t rain at Mount Meron and wash the tracks away.”
Lex and Mary would be in Judas’s power that much longer.
He fell to his knees and turned his face up. Dear God, have mercy.
A loud roar rent the dark. Water poured out of the sky.
CHAPTER 26
Drunken men yelled and cursed and staggered about on wobbly legs. Bear sat next to a sputtering fire doling out slurred insults and roars of laughter as he steadily coaxed wine into his companions.
The chill breeze shifted and pushed billowing smoke into Alexandra’s face. Her nose and throat filled and burned, making her cough. James, Mary, Sapphira, and Elizabeth huddled against her. They were all a miserable mess, wiping at watery eyes and runny noses.
A young man with a beak nose approached Sapphira. He was one of the few raiders still sober. About seventeen or eighteen years old, he had been tasked with standing guard. Lex’s best guess was that he was part of the group planning to desert Judas.
“How are you, Sapphira?” the young man stammered. “I hope you are not angry with me.”
Sapphira’s lip quivered. “I’m afraid. And I want to go home.” Tears slipped down her face. “Take me home, Barjesus. Please say you will take me home.”
Alexandra raised a brow at Mary.
Mary leaned over and whispered, “Barjesus’s family lives to the north of Rumah. I think he is sweet on Sapphira.”
The young man looked across the camp toward Judas. The wild-eyed man continued to throw the dice. Barjesus turned back to them and held out his hand to Sapphira. “Come with me. We need to talk.”
Sapphira gave her hand to Barjesus and let him lead her away.
Lex rubbed at her aching temple. “Should we go after her?”
“No. Barjesus will take care of her.” Mary sounded wistful. “I think he is going to try to convince Sapphira to escape with him.”
Lex wished the girl well. “The rest of you ought to go with Barjesus.” She patted Mary’s arm. “You and Sapphira might be able to persuade him to take you home.”
The breeze stiffened, ruffling Mary’s hair. “Come with us,” she pleaded.
Lex shook her head. “I can’t.”
“I want to go home,” Mary’s voice quavered.
Lex wrapped her arms about the girl and kissed her forehead. “I know, sweet lamb. But I can’t leave without Lydia.”
Mary hugged her like she was never going to let go.
James circled his arms around his drawn up knees. “I won’t go without you and Lydia.” His grumpy look dared her to disagree.
Surprised and pleased, Lex managed a small smile. “That is very brave of you.”
James bristled. “You and I both know I’m a sniveling coward.”
Lex ached for him. “I’m afraid, too.”
“Yes, but you keep your wits about you.” He put his head on his knees.
Mary pushed away from Lex. “I want to stay with you and James.”
“Nathan will be here soon,” Lex assured the girl, hoping to heaven it was true. She turned to Elizabeth. “You don’t have to stay. You can go with Sapphira, if you’d rather.”
Her cousin shrugged her petite shoulders. “It doesn’t matter to me.”
“You are holding up very well,” Lex said, liking the unflappable girl all the more for her quiet courage. “Are you a born stoic?”
“Heavens, no.” Elizabeth’s smile held a secret. “But it would be a sin to complain after my prayers have been answered.”
Mary frowned. “Prayers? I don’t understand.”
Elizabeth grinned. “I’m deliriously happy to have been abducted.”
Mary gasped. “You can’t mean it.”
“I most certainly do. Because it means Simeon Onias will divorce me.” Elizabeth lifted her face toward heaven. “Praise the Lord.”
Young Mary looked between Elizabeth and Alexandra. “I don’t understand.”
“The Law says a priest must divorce a wife who has been assaulted,” Lex explained.
A horrified look crossed the young girl’s face. “Nathan won’t have to divorce you, will he?”
Alexandra patted Mary’s hand. “No. The law applies only to priests whose bloodlines must remain pure and above suspicion.” Lex turned to her cousin. “Abduction is no
t the same as assault.”
Her cousin waved a dismissive hand. “It won’t matter to your priggish father. He will blame me, call me a whore, and divorce me. My reputation will be ruined.” Her smile turned fragile. “But disgrace seems a less horrifying prospect than living one more day with my revolting husband.”
Alexandra wondered about Lydia. Did her sister view life with Judas as better than living with their unhappy, serpent-tongued father?
Lex patted Elizabeth’s knee. “Don’t give up on marriage. It can be truly wonderful.”
“Don’t worry about me.” Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “My first trip to Galilee has been instructive. I can’t wait to see the look of surprise on my father’s face when I tell him I want to marry an olive farmer. Do you know where I can find a farmer as good and handsome as your Nathan?”
Lydia drifted past them, claiming Lex’s attention.
Her sister stopped outside the cave entrance and stooped down to tidy the food supplies. Lex took a look around. Judas was still engrossed in his game of dice. The rest of the outlaws were busy drinking themselves blind.
“I’ll be right back,” Lex told the others, slowly pushing up from the ground.
Lydia saw her coming. Fear flicked through her large doe eyes.
Lex rushed the rest of the way. She wrapped her fingers around Lydia’s wrist. “Come with me.” Lex pulled her unresisting sister behind a large boulder. “How are you, dear?”
“Don’t do anything to antagonize Judas,” Lydia begged. “He is mean when he drinks.”
Lex ran her hands over Lydia’s arms. They felt so thin. Lex choked back tears. “Has he hurt you?”
Footsteps crunched behind her. Lex spun around. She put her hand to her heart. “James, you scared me half to death.”
Her brother frowned. “What are you up to?”
The Warrior (The Herod Chronicles Book 1) Page 23