Warring Desires (The Herod Chronicles Book 3)

by Wanda Ann Thomas

Banna nodded. “Plenty of other families feel the same way.”

  “Your words are the most welcome I’ve heard in months,” James said.

  Benjamin pointed to the stairs. “We should go.”

  James pushed off from the bottom of the pool. “Lead the way, old friends.”

  Banna waded toward the stairs opposite the ones used to enter the bath. “You seem overly calm for someone facing judgment.”

  James dragged his hands through the water as he trudged behind the brothers. “I’ve learned to always expect the worst, so I am pleasantly surprised when something good happens.”

  Banna chuckled. “A practical man. I knew you had a good trait or two in you.”

  “Your father isn’t amused,” Benjamin reminded them.

  James slogged up the stairs. “That’s nothing new.” He was more concerned with how his father would retaliate for causing him embarrassment. Abandoning his post at the Temple was colossal, even by James’s lax standards. For Elizabeth’s sake, he planned to be contrite and humble and agreeable. And hope his father didn’t have any truly nasty surprises waiting.

  CHAPTER 10

  Moments after leaving the ritual bath, James sat on the front bench of the spectator section in the Hall of Hewn Stones. The proceedings put him in mind of a badly staged play in some out of the way town.

  The actors, witnesses testifying against him and the trio of presiding judges, spoke their parts with loud voices echoing about the cavernous chamber. At center stage, in the royal box, High Priest Hasmond sat with his inner council, James’s grim-mouthed father among them. The audience, the seventy-one strong body of the Sanhedrin, lined either side of the stage, heckling James with pointed questions and wise sayings.

  Unlike the grand amphitheaters he’d been privileged to visit, the antiquated Hall of Hewn Stones looked a bit shabby around the edges. The gray walls and bleak lighting didn’t help.

  Benjamin and Banna sat on one side of James, and his cousins Nehonya and Andrew on the other. They took turns widening their eyes at him while his indecorous nocturnal activities were recorded by the court secretaries. The harlot Morta must have a friend or two among the court, however, because as her name and establishment were never mentioned.

  Exhausted from the actual doing of said activities, James would love nothing better than to make his apologies and retreat to his bed.

  The next witness was called. Barnabas, the strict Pharisee who had frightened Elizabeth when she and James had been speaking on the porch outside her home, stood and focused his hard eyes on James.

  James swallowed and shifted uncomfortably on the narrow plank bench.

  Barnabas rested his braided beard on his flaccid chest. “James Onias is not only culpable in the matter of abandoning his duty, he is also guilty of defiling his priestly garments.”

  The hall erupted in noisy outrage. James jumped to his feet. The din of questions and accusations competed with the loud pounding in his ears. “What proof do you offer?”

  Barnabas pointed a long, narrow finger. “Where are your tunic and trousers?”

  James had thrown the clothes into the hellish fires of Gehenna burning outside the small hovel Morta called home. Though not perfect, his solution came close to the usual means of disposing of the holy garments, somewhat soothing his conscience. James scanned face after face. “Can anyone else attest to this travesty?” He held his breath. The witness of two would condemn him. The silence stretched out.

  Barnabas narrowed his eyes at James. ”Produce the garments, and I will be satisfied.”

  Cold sweat wrapped a clammy hand around James’s nape. “What are you accusing—”

  “My son’s tunic and trousers are back where they belong,” his father said, standing and smoothing his robe.

  Jaws dropped, but James had heard enough of his father’s bold lies to stop being shocked by anything that came out of those pruned lips. Tempted to tell the truth, he sealed his mouth shut and felt dirtier for hiding behind his father’s guile than when he laid with Morta.

  Barnabas scanned the chamber. “Someone else must have seen James Onias talking privately with the zavah woman.”

  “Elizabeth Onias?” his father yelled. “I told you not to go near her.”

  James’s hands fisted, even as he pretended boredom. “Did you?”

  Barnabas folded his arms across his saggy chest. ”Did you touch the zavah woman’s sleeve?”

  His father left the royal box, stormed across the room, and glared down at James. “Did you touch the witch? What has she done to beguile you?”

  James glanced at Elizabeth’s father and brother, waiting for them to defend her. Though they wore miserable expressions, they didn’t move to stop his father’s abusive tirade. James’s chest puffed. “Elizabeth is a righteous, blameless woman. You and I are not worthy to utter her name.”

  His father’s face purpled with rage and he drew his arm back and slapped James across the face. “Shut your rebellious mouth.”

  The loud smack echoed deafeningly. Accosted by stares ranging from flabbergasted, to amused, to embarrassed, James rubbed his stinging cheek in shock. His father had slapped his sisters, but never him. Humiliating him in this fashion before fellow priests was unforgivable.

  High Priest Hasmond stood. “If there are no other witnesses to James Onias’s alleged misdeeds, I have no choice but to dismiss the charges.”

  No one rose to accuse James.

  High Priest Hasmond called an end to the session. Men leaped from their seats. Some departed, and some stayed to gossip.

  James continued to glare at his father.

  Andrew put a hand on James’s shoulder. “This is not the place to settle family disputes.”

  James rounded on his cousin. “He disparaged your sister.”

  Andrew flinched. “Libi would understand.”

  James opened his mouth, and shut it again. Hadn’t he sat back himself, not saying a word, when his father had slapped his sisters and Elizabeth? Hadn’t he, as a callow youth, made cruel comments at their expense? Who was he to censure anyone?

  He turned to leave and bumped into his father. “Damnation, what else do you want?”

  His father clasped James’s face and pulled him close. “Accidents happen, Son. If you don’t want an accident to befall that witch, you’ll stay away from her.” His father brushed a cloying kiss over both of James’s cheeks and walked away to a chorus of men commending him for being a loving, forgiving father.

  Trembling with rage, James ignored Andrew’s attempts to console him. Protecting Libi from his father gained new urgency. Elizabeth had done or said something to earn his father’s hate, and Simeon Onias wasn’t one to forgive and forget. She wouldn’t be truly safe until his father was in the grave.

  He glanced in the direction his father had gone. The old goat was fawning over High Priest Hasmond. Spotting James watching him, his father’s smile turned malevolent. The loathing was mutual, then. Until this moment, James hadn’t been sure. If his father’s new wife gave birth to a healthy son, James might also find himself the victim of an...accident.

  Who would protect Libi then? Especially if Gabriel got himself killed playing at being a soldier. He’d promised Elizabeth and Gabriel he would do whatever it took to safeguard her. His stomach sickened at the thought of failing her.

  He knew what he had to do.

  “Stop rubbing your scar,” Andrew said, tugging on his arm.

  Blinking, James became aware of the rough pad of his finger caressing the raised blemish. The disfigurement that had occurred courtesy of his father’s greed and trickery. His hand curled and he squeezed his eyes shut. He would strike first, taking his father to hell with him.

  CHAPTER 11

  Three days after leaving Herod’s camp behind, slanting rain drummed against Gabriel’s purple robe. Worn and beaten, he used what strength he had left to stay upright on Ahab while the mule train slogged up another muddy incline. Hunger gnawed a hole in his stomach.


  Nightfall couldn’t come soon enough. Noach promised they didn’t have far to go before reaching the next inn, but the conversation seemed hours old now. A frigid blast of cold swept down Gabriel’s neck, making his teeth chatter violently.

  He dug his chin into his chest and retreated inward. One more night. He had to survive one more wet, bitter night in another dingy, crowded inn before reaching the city of Samaria. Once there, he would gladly give half his wealth for the warmest food, clothes, and bed available.

  A booming blast sounded overhead. Ahab jumped. Gabriel clung to the beast. Streaks of lightning knifed into the rocky hills above. Another crack of thunder split the air. A screeching mule raced past Ahab in retreat. The mules ahead kicked and hawed complaints. Isaac urged the string of frightened animals forward. They slipped and slid through mud, and the next-to-last beast lost its footing and tumbled to the ground, pulling down two other mules.

  Eyes round as his face, Isaac yelled something at Gabriel, but the crash and din of thunder drowned out the words. Gabriel urged Ahab toward the flailing beasts while Isaac leapt off his mule and hobbled toward the melee.

  The black heavens opened and rain poured down in buckets. The crippled boy scooted between slashing hooves and flying mud without flinching, grasped the bridle of a beast climbing to its feet and guided the animal upright. He stroked the mule’s long nose, calming the quivering beast.

  Gabriel jumped off Ahab. Muck sucked at his sandals. He stepped on the hem of his robe, stumbled, but regained his footing. Two more steps brought him to the boy. “Give me the rope!” he yelled, gripping the braided cord and coiling it around his hand.

  “Be careful,” Isaac warned.

  Gabriel coaxed the downed mules to their feet. Lightning lit the sky. Terror shining in their black eyes, the beasts reared and flailed.

  The looped rope sawed through Gabriel’s flesh, and he couldn’t help crying out. Afraid of losing a finger, he lunged for a bridle and missed. Noach and Big Lev converged on him and the kicking mules and quickly calmed the animals.

  Leonidas and Shoshana arrived, covered in mud and breathing hard. Leonidas tugged at the braided cord, trying to free Gabriel’s hand.

  White-hot pain lanced up Gabriel’s arm. He clapped his hand over Leonidas’s. “Stop! I’ll do it!”

  Shoshana brushed both their hands out of the way. “Let me look at it.”

  Gabriel grasped his wrist. Gentle fingers slid over his hand and loosed the rope. Prickling pain grayed his vision and weakened his knees.

  Leonidas wrapped arms around Gabriel from behind and eased him onto the sopping ground.

  Shoshana knelt in the mud and cradled his hand in hers. “Bring me water.”

  Jacob and Isaac rushed to do her bidding. She sent Leonidas for a healing ointment stowed in a bag of medicaments. Noach and Big Lev turned their attention to setting the mule train straight.

  Shoshana’s fingers gently pressed and prodded, making a careful examination. Gabriel gritted his teeth and awaited her verdict.

  Brown, guarded eyes met his. “Keep the wound cleaned and wrapped, and it should heal by itself.”

  They’d hardly spoken two words to each other the whole trip. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to have caused you more trouble.”

  Her cinnamon eyes softened. Raindrops glistened on long lashes. “This wasn’t your fault.”

  “I can’t agree, since I did spout something foolish about a storm vomiting me out in Samaria.” As apologies went, it was weak.

  The corners of her mouth twitched with the faintest of smiles. “That will teach you to guard your mouth more carefully in the future.”

  His attraction to her blazed to life. He ought to shut the door on any further conversation. “I appreciate the gentle reproach. I deserve much worse.”

  “The wound should be bound.” She reached for the hem of his robe.

  He thrust out his hand. “Don’t tear it.”

  The light in her eyes dimmed. “I’ll go find an empty sack.”

  “You did nothing wrong. The robe was a last gift from my wife before—” Pain, sadness, and grief welled. “The purple is over-bright, and the fine cloth is impractical, but I—” Arm heavy as a pillar, he scrubbed his weary eyes. “A sack will work just fine.”

  A long silence followed.

  Shoshana touched his sleeve. “The color suits you.” She rose to her feet and slipped away.

  He dropped his head to his knees. “Talitha said the same thing,” he whispered, the words vanishing into the dark chasm of night.

  ***

  Less than an hour after the accident, the travelers sat by a small fire, filling hollow bellies with cold lentils and stale bread. When offered the choice of pressing on to the inn or sleeping under the now-starry skies, Gabriel chose the deprivations of the open rather than the cramped quarters of a dingy inn.

  The chilled desert air cut through his thin, damp cloak, making his teeth chatter. The cold and wet were brutal, and his bandaged hand throbbed.

  Big Lev stood and retrieved the spare robes warming by the fire. He offered one to Noach. The old man pointed to Leonidas, who like Gabriel, had been worn down by the frigid nights and long days.

  Big Lev wrapped the tunic around Leonidas’s shoulders.

  Leonidas expelled a grateful sigh. “I’m so cold my backbone feels like it’s about to snap.”

  Big Lev moved behind Gabriel and draped a thick, snug robe over Gabriel’s back.

  Wrapped in a cocoon of warmth, Gabriel managed a smile for the tall, lean man. “I don’t want you to go without because I didn’t bring proper clothing.”

  Big Lev knelt beside Gabriel and held his veined, chapped hands up to the crackling fire. “You’ve done well for your first time riding with a mule train.”

  The modest compliment pleased Gabriel more than the grandest of accolades, especially coming from a man who knew the meaning of sweat, sore muscles, and perseverance. He’d never spent time with men like Noach and Big Lev. Though aged and weathered, they could work circles around him. No matter how dirty or difficult the chore, they never uttered a complaint. And though they didn’t own much in the way of worldly goods, what they had they were ready to share.

  “We will work harder at not slowing you down,” Gabriel promised. “Rahm didn’t do you any favors when he saddled you with us as protectors.”

  Young Isaac stirred the fire with a limbed branch, making the embers hiss and pop. “Rahm told us to be extra patient with you, even if you are a nuisance.”

  Jacob scowled down his beak of a nose. “Hush your mouth.”

  Isaac widened his eyes at his brother. “I didn’t say anything I wasn’t supposed to.”

  Jacob rolled his eyes. “See? You are dumb as a goat.”

  Shoshana grabbed the charred stick from Isaac’s hand. “What have we told you about playing in the fire?” She pointed the crooked limb at Jacob. “And don’t talk to your brother that way.”

  It was the first time Gabriel had heard Shoshana raise her voice to her nephews. The heightened tension surrounding mention of Rahm renewed Gabriel’s suspicions. “Rahm reeks of corruption. How did you get entangled with him?”

  Leonidas sat forward. “He seemed like a pleasant fellow to me.”

  Misery streaked across the faces of the boys and Big Lev. Shoshana cast a stricken look toward her father. Noach’s proud, straight shoulders drooped. “Tell them.”

  Dread crawled up Gabriel’s spine.

  Shoshana stared into the blazing fire. “John the Beggar is always pleasant when he wants something.”

  “John the Beggar?” Gabriel repeated.

  Shadows angled over her face. “That’s the name Rahm went by when we married.”

  “Rahm...is your husband?” Memory of Rahm’s smug, gap-toothed smile invaded. Gabriel sickened at the idea of Rahm’s meaty hands groping Shoshana. Ashamed at the direction of his thoughts, Gabriel shifted on the thin mat seat. “Why didn’t Rahm tell us you were family?�
��

  Shoshana picked up the charred stick and stabbed the glowing fire. Sparks crackled and spewed upward. “Rahm makes a habit of lying.”

  “How come Rahm isn’t here with you?” Gabriel asked, angry that Rahm would leave the Ehuds to fend for themselves amid so many dangers.

  Isaac’s face pinched. “Rahm thinks he can tell us what to do, even though he hasn’t been a real husband to Aunt Shosha since I was five or six.”

  Shoshana groaned. “Isaac...”

  Gabriel’s pulse leaped. If Shoshana and Rahm had been separated for six or seven years the marriage existed in name only. A simple bill of divorce would dissolve the match and leave her free to marry another.

  Isaac hung his head. “I’m sorry, Aunt Shosha. I promise to keep my goat-mouth shut from now on.”

  “But you’re so beautiful,” Leonidas said. “Something must be wrong with Rahm to leave you.”

  Shoshana’s smile was sad. She stroked Isaac’s back. “Rahm loves riches above everything else. And he excels at bringing out the worst in people.”

  Isaac nodded vigorously. “We’re glad Rahm left. He beat and cursed the mules. And he was mean to Aunt Shosha.”

  “Isaac!” Noach, Big Lev, and Jacob hissed.

  The boy’s shoulders hitched. “It’s true.”

  Gabriel’s muscles knotted and he surged to his feet. The urge to engage in physical violence was a new sensation. “Did he ever strike you?”

  His vehemence drew surprised stares.

  Shoshana shook her head and exhaled a heavy breath. “Rahm was the last person in the world who should have been a mule train driver. He despised caring for the mules and, in return, the animals weren’t fond of him. He was forever getting bitten or kicked. In the end, he got what he wanted. He used the coins he gained from us to buy costly clothes and talked his way into a more wealthy marriage. His second wife’s family trades in gemstones and gold.”

  “Rahm used you and your family to claw his way out of poverty?” Gabriel asked, teeth gritted. “Then he abandoned you and didn’t have the decency to divorce you?”

  Noach frowned. “The fault’s mine. I never should have signed that foul marriage contract. We have to give Rahm half of everything we earn.”