Beloved Protector (Heartsong Presents) (5 page)

Plunging the soap into the basin of water, she tried to focus her thoughts on more practical things, like what she was going to do when she got to Pella. She had no doubt that she would get there because Andronicus had given his word and she had never known him to fail.

After cleaning herself thoroughly, she felt refreshed for the first time in days. The last time she had washed was three days ago, just before her mother died. The reminder brought back the stinging pain of her loss.

She slid into the soft tunic Andronicus had provided for her. It glided over her body like silk.

She crossed over to where Andronicus had left his shield lying against the trunk. Turning it around, she studied her distorted image in its polished surface. At least she looked less like a beggar from the streets of Jerusalem.

Sitting down on the sleeping mat, she tucked her legs under her and began using the olive oil and the comb Andronicus had given her to work the tangles from her matted hair. How had he known that she needed the oil for just such a purpose? As handsome as he was, his knowledge of women must be extensive. The thought, coming just after the reminder of her loss, left her depressed. It would be better for her to remember that her purpose in life was not tied up with this admittedly intriguing soldier of Rome.

When she had combed her hair to her satisfaction, she used the towel to wipe the extra oil from her hair. It left it soft and shiny, once again giving her a feeling of satisfaction, which then caused her to chide herself at her preoccupation with her less-than-flattering looks.

She was reminded of the Apostle Paul’s warning to women about being so focused on their looks that they forgot that their beauty was to come from inside in the form of a godly heart.

“Forgive me, Lord,” she whispered.

She took the basin of water, intent on emptying it outside. When she pushed back the flap of the tent, she almost dropped it. A soldier stood guard outside the doorway. He came to instant attention, his eyes widening in surprise at her changed appearance.

He glanced at the basin in her hands, then back at her. He shifted his spear to his other hand and, reaching out, took the water from her. “Just leave it. I will see that it is taken care of.”

Tapat swallowed hard, releasing the basin to him. Was she then a prisoner, or was the guard for her protection?

“Thank you,” she told him and scurried back inside.

When she lay down for the night, her swirling chaotic thoughts caused a tear to trickle from her eye only to be followed by a sudden deluge. She couldn’t get her mind to focus long enough on one idea to know just what to pray. In the end, she merely sighed three words. “Help me, Lord.”

Chapter 5

T
he sun was just beginning to rise over the Kidron Valley when Andronicus tapped on the entrance to the tent to let Tapat know that he was about to enter.

He found her sitting cross-legged in the middle of the sleeping mat, her changed appearance making him pause midstride.

The servant entering behind him almost collided with him and struggled to balance the food in his arms. Andronicus stepped out of his way quickly, his eyes never leaving Tapat as she gracefully rose to her feet.

She no longer looked like a ragged street urchin but more like the nubile young woman he remembered. So concerned had he been for her safety, he hadn’t really paid attention to the scent of her unwashed body. Now the fragrance of sandalwood assailed his senses and his nose flared in appreciation.

“I thought we could share the morning meal,” he told her, trying to steady the beat of his thrumming heart.

She merely nodded and he was aware that something had altered in her since the last time they were together, though he couldn’t put a name to it. She again seemed leery of him, so he tried to put her at ease.

“I brought bread and fruit, which will be left for you so that you can have something the rest of the day. I will not be back before the evening.”

The servant once again laid the blanket in the middle of the floor and placed the food on it. He glanced briefly at Tapat, then quickly left. She watched him exit the tent and turned burning eyes to Andronicus.

“Is he a slave?”

Andronicus shook his head, moving to the blanket and seating himself. “No. He is a personal servant who goes with me on my deployments.”

She joined him on the blanket, handed him a platter and gave him a questioning look.

“His name is Nasab. I saved him from the Germans and now he feels he owes his life to me no matter how many times I tell him otherwise. It’s a belief of his people.”

He began to load food onto his plate as he studied her curiously. Her fiery look told him that she did not approve of slavery. He was intrigued.

“You do not approve of slavery, and yet your own people owned slaves and you sold yourself as a slave.”

She glanced at him in surprise. “The difference is that one was of a willing nature.”

“Are all Jewish slaves of a willing nature, then?”

He didn’t know why he was goading her, but it irked him that she had such a low opinion of him.

She frowned. “No, but if slavery is done in accordance with the laws Elohim gave Moses, it lasts but a short time and is only supposed to be in desperate situations. God’s law allows freedom after seven years.”

His look was skeptical. “And of course your people follow these laws in detail.”

She had the grace to blush. “No, they rarely do,” she admitted. “Just like most of Elohim’s laws, the people have forgotten. They choose to ignore His word and then they have to pay the penalty.”

“It’s the same with every civilization,” he told her. “My people are no different.”

They retreated into silence as they consumed the morning meal to break their fast. The sound of the camp waking and stirring about outside penetrated into the lasting quiet. The prolonged silence was making Andronicus uneasy.

He continued to study Tapat but surreptitiously so that he wouldn’t make her uncomfortable again. Her hair now hung in a glistening, silky black stream down her back and, although she was still much too thin, the light blue tunic was becoming against her dark skin.

She glanced up at him, a seeming veil over her eyes that no matter how hard he tried, he could not penetrate.

“I am not used to being idle,” she told him. “Is there nothing that I can do while we wait to leave for Pella?”

He chose some grapes from the fruit bowl, adding them to his plate. If it was hard for his troops to sit idle during a siege, how much more so for a woman used to being of service? Still, he could think of nothing that would relieve her tedium.

“I’m sorry. I know how monotonous the waiting can be, but there is nothing that you can do here that wouldn’t involve your leaving this tent, and that is forbidden.”

She nodded, dropping her eyes once more. The silence continued between them unabated until Andronicus finished his meal and had no more reason to stay. He got to his feet, putting on his helmet and sword that he had laid aside earlier.

He reached down and tilted Tapat’s chin until he could see her face. He studied her features, trying to find some semblance of the woman who had come to him that night years ago fearing for his life.

“Have patience,” he remonstrated softly.

She smiled faintly. “That is not one of my virtues.”

He returned her smile, releasing her. “Nor mine.

Andronicus stopped at the tent entrance and turned back to her. He opened his mouth to say something but then could think of nothing that would be of benefit. Her very silence forbade any further delving on his part.

Ducking outside, he made his way to where the troops were already beginning the work of increasing the siege wall.

Dozens of faces stared at them from the outer wall of Jerusalem, some full of hate, others full of fear. Periodically, arrows rained down upon them, sending the soldiers running for cover, but the accuracy of their shots was minimal because of the distance from the city.

The zealots tried to jeer the Romans into an angry attack, but the soldiers were too well trained for such a ruse. They ignored the jibes and steadily worked at increasing the siege wall, knowing that it was only a matter of time before they would be able to seek vengeance.

Andronicus stared in amazement at the amount of work that had already been accomplished on the raising of the wall, marveling at his men’s initiative. Nothing motivated troops more than sheer boredom and a desire for revenge.

Already the wall was several feet high. What Titus had thought would take weeks to accomplish looked, at this rate, as if it would be finished in days. Perhaps he would be able to get Tapat out of here in a much shorter time than he had originally anticipated. He glanced at the blue sky above him and wondered if such timing had anything to do with her God.

Already the sun was a burning disc in the bright morning sky. The sweltering heat of the day was going to make the work of lifting and placing stones that much more grueling, especially when the men had to do so in full battle gear.

After seeing the men well started on their labors, Andronicus then retrieved his horse and, joining the other tribunes, made an inspection of the entire wall rising around Jerusalem. Soon, the people of Jerusalem would be cut off from any escape route and thus would begin the real siege of the city, a siege meant to starve the people into submission. Many in the city had desired to give in to the Romans and were killed by the Jewish zealots, who were determined to fight to the end.

Thus began the pattern of his life for the next few days. During the daylight hours he oversaw the building of the wall, in the evening he spent time with Tapat, and when the hour grew late he made his way to Arius’s tent to spend time staring into the darkness and thinking about the woman so close yet so distant.

The highlight of his day was when he would share a meal with Tapat during the evening hours. They began to relax in each other’s company and started sharing bits of their lives with each other, but he could tell that she was holding back from him.

He was beginning to understand the woman a little better. After all she had been through, he marveled that she had remained so unscathed by all the evil that had touched her. It astounded him that she could still believe in this God of hers, yet she clung to Him with a fierceness that defied explanation.

She stood in the opening of the tent now, staring up at the stars in the night sky. The warm evening breeze ruffled the edges of her tunic and lifted the dark curtain of her hair. He could see her standing there, yet she seemed to be somewhere far away.

He couldn’t even begin to guess what she might be thinking. Although she had relaxed around him to a small extent, she was still keeping most of her thoughts and feelings well hidden. He had tried to feel her out on certain subjects and she had closed up like the stopper on an amphorae.

He went to her, cupping her shoulders with his hands and noting with pleasure that she was finally putting on some weight. He felt her tense but refused to release her. In truth, he looked for any reason just to touch her or to be near her.

“The soothsayers say that our destinies are tied up in those little specks of light,” he said to make conversation, following her look to the star-studded night sky.

She glanced over her shoulder, and the look in her eyes gave him pause.

“Is that what you believe?” she asked. Something in her voice told him that this was no idle question.

He stared into those lustrous brown eyes and wanted the moment to go on forever. He was here with her now; the evening was peaceful and he felt as though the outside world had disappeared entirely. He almost felt content.

“I believe we make our own destinies,” he corrected.

“So you are your own god, then?”

He was having a hard time focusing on what she was saying when those lips were so near his own. He had to clear his throat before he could answer her.

“I would not claim so much power.”

She turned back to again stare at the millions of twinkling lights. “Then who created all of this?”

He hesitated, knowing that this was not the moment to make some idle comment. This was obviously important to her.

He searched the glowing orbs in the sky and felt something move within him. Part of him wanted to accept that there was a god, any god, who actually cared about the lives of the people. But he had been to too many places and seen too many things to believe this was so. Before he could answer, she spoke again.

“The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of His hands. Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they display knowledge. There is no speech or language where their voice is not heard.”

He shivered at the eerie cadence of her voice. She spoke almost as an oracle. He turned her around, his narrow-eyed look searching her face.

“Where did you hear this?”

She smiled. “It is in our scriptures. A psalm of our King David.”

She pushed out of his hold and returned to the rug to finish her meal. He gave one last look to the stars and then followed her.

“I told you that we were different,” she said. He had the feeling that although she was looking directly at him, she wasn’t really seeing him. Just as in the doorway, she seemed distant.

He pushed his dark hair from his eyes and sighed heavily. Whenever they were together, he had to choose his words with care in order not to offend her in some way, yet whatever he said still seemed to be wrong. He got the distinct impression she was trying to put up walls between them that would be harder to scale than the siege walls that had today, finally, been completed around Jerusalem. Instead of months, it had taken four short days.

In the same amount of time, Tapat had had time to build her own walls.

He glared at her, wanting to tear away that shell of protection she had formed to hide her feelings. He was tempted to break that shell with a subtle seduction, to force her to admit her feelings, but he knew, as he had admitted to himself before, that that would accomplish nothing except his own downfall.

He knew without conceit that she was attracted to him, but she was fighting it with every ounce of her being, and, instinctively, he knew that it centered on her faith in her God. Her attempt to put barriers between them was playing havoc with his ability to think clearly.

He groaned inwardly. It was foolish to be having romantic thoughts anyway when in a short time he would be going into battle with the very real likelihood that he would be killed. If anyone should be putting up walls, it was him.

His anger evaporated as quickly as it had come.

“You’re probably right. We are different,” he acquiesced quietly and she jerked her head up in surprise. For just a second her guard was down enough for him to realize the pain he had just caused her. But her mask of indifference slipped quickly back into place.

He got to his feet and retrieved his gear. There were times when he just wanted to shake the woman.

“Titus has given us permission to leave tomorrow. It will be several weeks before our troops will be able to begin their assault, so I must return by then.”

He could see the fear in her eyes. Fear for him or for her people?

“We will leave early, so get some sleep.”

He waited for her to say something, but she merely nodded her head. Was she, like him, wondering just what their future would entail? Perhaps that was what had brought about his comment regarding the stars. It was a simple comment, yet it only succeeded in driving deeper the wedge between them.

“Good night.”

He made his way to Arius’s tent, stopping just outside and glancing once more at the starry night sky. What had she said? Something about the stars speaking of her God?

“If You’re up there,” he ground out, “remember that she loves You. Keep us safe on our journey.”

The blazing star that shot across the darkness he took as a good omen.