Captive Heart (Truly Yours Digital Editions) (2 page)

Before long Fronto stood before Samah. Her gaze lifted to his face to encounter his puzzled frown.

“A Jew coddling a dog?”

To the Jews, dogs were anathema. They were scavenging beasts that preyed on other animals and drank the blood of animals and humans alike. It was no wonder the soldier was surprised.

Fronto’s look slid over Samah’s shrunken form, taking note of the missing appendage. His eyes darkened. “She would be a beauty worthy of the temple of Venus, but I have no use for a cripple.” He snapped his fingers and stood back.

A soldier raised his sword, and Samah closed her eyes, waiting for the deathblow. Suddenly, the captain intervened.

“Sir.”

Fronto lifted a dark brow in question, awaiting an explanation.

“Are you familiar with Tribune Cassius?”

The lines on Fronto’s face deepened with doubt. “I know him well. What has that to do with anything?”

The captain pointed to the dog. “The dog belongs to him.”

Fronto jerked his gaze back to the dog in amazement. “Impossible!”

Shrugging massive shoulders, the captain smiled. “Never-theless, it is so.”

Fronto studied both the dog and the girl in silence. His eyes snapped back to the captain. “Explain.”

The captain explained everything that had transpired. He ended by telling Fronto that he had sent word to Tribune Cassius of the dog’s injury. Fronto’s gaze once more fastened on Samah. She held her breath as she waited for the soldier’s verdict. His cold eyes never wavered.

The loud noises receded into the background until nothing remained but the sounds in the courtyard. “Let her live,” he finally said. Turning, he walked on.

Samah released the breath from her lungs, thankful to be spared, yet saddened for those who were not.

Suddenly the dog lifted his head from Samah’s lap, his pointed ears straining forward. He began to struggle against Samah’s restraining grip.

“Easy, boy,” she soothed, but the beast refused to be swayed. Struggling to his feet, he stood shaking, his ears cocking to and fro. He stared at Samah, whining. Again, his head jerked upward, and in the next instant, he dragged himself away and disappeared out the gate.

Samah watched him go, feeling as though she had lost her very last friend.

❧

Tribune Cassius made his way among the carnage of the once holy city of Jerusalem and felt a moment’s shame. Every-where death and devastation met his eyes. This once beautiful, thriving city would be no more. Titus had accomplished what he had set out to do. Still, these arrogant, stubborn people refused to bow to the yoke of Roman subjection. Even now, people were being massacred for their open defiance.

Shaking his head, he smiled ruefully. In truth, had they really managed to decimate the Jewish people, or were they now holding a snarling lion by the tail? A more pigheaded lot of people he had yet to meet.

As he drew closer to the Temple, his shame increased. Titus had offered the people the chance to save their monument to their God, but they had refused. Two Jewish zealots were mainly responsible, John and Simon. They had set the Temple on fire after luring Roman soldiers inside. Titus’s rage had known no bounds. Both of the miscreants had disappeared, but they couldn’t hide for long. Now the once beautiful Temple lay in ruins.

Having left his dog, Sentinel, in the compound where they were storing prisoners, Cassius was now anxious to reclaim him. He had believed the dog would be safer there.

Cassius smiled, thinking of the dog’s reproachful glare when he had told him to stay. Sentinel was his constant companion and truly his best friend, having saved his life innumerable times. Cassius trusted very few people, so therefore had very few close friends. Actually, he and Sentinel were a matched pair because Sentinel was as distrusting of people as Cassius was.

The dog had appeared to him one day several years ago. He had been on his way home from a campaign and found the animal sitting next to the road. It was almost as though the dog had been waiting for Cassius to come by, because he had followed him home. Since then, he had been constantly at Cassius’s side.

Puckering his lips, Cassius gave a piercing whistle. Those around him stopped and stared, then went on with their business of looting and killing. Cassius tried to ignore them. He continued to stride along, his dark brows drawing down into a frown. Something was wrong. Sentinel should have responded to his whistle by now. Growing more worried, Cassius hurried his steps, once again piercing the air with his shrill whistle.

He was almost to the Temple court when he noticed Sentinel coming slowly towards him, dragging his hindquarters. Alarmed, Cassius ran and crouched next to where the dog had stopped. The animal’s panting was labored and uneven, and it was obvious he was in distress.

“Sentinel!” Eyes darkening with anger, Cassius began checking the dog for injuries. When his look lighted upon the bandaged back hip, he frowned even more fiercely. Someone had tended the dog’s wound. Several times Sentinel had been wounded before, but no one had been able to come near the dog save Cassius himself. Amazed, he wondered who had managed to do so now.

Gently lifting the dog into his arms, Cassius retraced the dog’s steps. When he reached the compound, Captain Sabinus came hurrying towards him.

“Tribune! We have been searching for you.”

“How did this happen?” Cassius demanded angrily, ignoring the man’s placating tone.

Sabinus swallowed hard. “Assassins, Tribune. But they have all been taken care of.”

Cassius glared at the mass of people in the courtyard. “Who tended him? You?”

The captain shook his head. “I only pulled the arrow out. We couldn’t get near him, but the girl over there was able to keep him still until we removed it, then she bandaged him.”

Cassius’s gaze locked on Samah, trying to look inconspicuous among the ragged group of people. Her dark hair hung long and tangled about her shoulders, and her torn tunic showed the lines of her bones from her emaciated form. She lifted large, fearful eyes to meet his gaze, and Cassius felt something clench tightly within his stomach. Though ragged and unkempt, the girl was still a beauty. Pulling his eyes from hers, he noticed the other Jews eyeing her with open hostility, and wondered why.

“Bring her,” Cassius commanded.

“Aye, Tribune!” Still, the captain hesitated.

“Well, what is it Man?”

The captain’s eyes met his leader’s. “She’s a cripple, Tribune.”

Cassius returned his attention to Samah, and for the first time he noticed her missing foot. He felt a moment’s pity that such a beautiful woman should be so afflicted. Shrugging off the feeling, he turned back to the captain. “Then carry her,” he commanded brusquely.

The captain hastened to obey. Lifting Samah into his arms, he followed where the Tribune led until they reached a small, empty building being used as a care center. The Tribune disappeared inside carrying his dog. The captain followed.

Cassius motioned for Sabinus to place Samah on a stool next to where he had laid the dog. He watched in surprise as the dog lifted his huge head and gently licked the girl’s hand. She, in turn, smiled at the dog and began to stroke his side, cooing softly. Amazed, Cassius fought a primitive surge of pure jealousy that threatened to engulf him.

After a time, the girl’s soothing voice affected Cassius as well, and for the first time in days, he felt himself begin to relax. When she finally lifted her gaze to his, there was something dark and secret in her eyes. Though he told himself it meant nothing, his heart suddenly leaped within him at her look.

Samah dropped her gaze from the Roman’s piercing dark eyes to the panting dog at her side. She felt oddly unsettled, and wondered why. Never before had she had such a feeling, as though her life were about to drastically change in some way—if she had any life left after this night. She knew that things were bound to change anyway, but the feeling persisted that her future had something to do with this bold tribune.

Cassius’s eyes held a host of unasked questions, but he focused his attention once again on his dog. His jaw clenched, and Samah swallowed uneasily when he moved close to her side. The leather of his armor creaked as he moved his well-toned muscles. Her insides twisted with terrible fear, and something else she was as yet unaware of.

The air around her was filled with the strong smell of sweat and blood. Though the rain had stopped, the hobnailed boots treading through the small building still splattered mud. Soldiers moved in and out of the small confines of the building, some carrying injured, others seeking audience with the man leaning over the beast. That he was an important leader was obvious.

One young soldier entered and snapped a smart salute, his right fist slamming against his chest. His dark hair curled over his forehead; his helmet was tucked loosely in his left arm.

“Tribune,” he spoke rapidly, “I bear a message from General Titus.”

Without lifting his inspection from the dog, the tribune snapped back at him. “Then deliver it.”

Eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise, the young man’s look went from Cassius to the beast lying on the table.

“He requests your presence. He has decided to have a ceremony honoring all who excelled themselves during the
battle.”

Cassius sighed, straightening. “When?”

“Tomorrow afternoon. He wants every soldier to be polished and dressed as befits the imperial Roman army.”

Cassius knew the reasoning behind this act of the general’s. His eyes rested briefly on the bedraggled girl huddled next to Sentinel. No doubt the soldiers would be honored in sight of the defeated and decimated Jews, as another means of demoralizing them. He supposed he should feel remorse of some sort or perhaps pride in the army’s achievement, but in reality, he felt nothing. No joy. No sorrow. Nothing.

He motioned to a soldier nearby. “Domitus, spread the word,” he told him. “Inform the centurions so that they may inform those under their command.”

Domitus and the young soldier snapped simultaneous salutes and quickly exited the room. Their departure left Cassius suddenly alone with his dog and the young Jewish girl. Something about the girl touched a chord deep inside of him. Tumultuous feelings he thought long subdued suddenly
reappeared. When Sentinel lifted pain-filled eyes to his,
Cassius grew angry all over again, effectively suppressing any unwanted sentiments.

“Your people are stubborn and foolish,” he snapped at Samah. “They thought to defy Rome and look where they are now. Slaves. Fodder for the games that Titus is so fond of.”

Surprised that he had spoken to her in Aramaic, Samah knew of nothing to say. She refused to look his way, continuing to stroke the sleek fur of the dog that had unwittingly saved her life.

Cassius watched her, feelings of jealousy warring with feelings of gratitude. That she had saved Sentinel was beyond argument, but that the dog had
allowed
her to bothered him greatly.

Samah heard him moving and sensed his closeness. Strong fingers lifted her chin until her frightened eyes met his dark, angry ones. His furious gaze suddenly altered with surprise, and he dropped his hand as though it had been burned.

“You’re not a
Jew
!”

Realizing that her eye color had given her away, she turned her look away. “I am from Samaria.”

Puzzled, he continued to study her, now thoroughly intrigued. Her eyes were an incredible blue-green, almost the color of the Mare Nostrum, or as the people from these parts would call it, the Great Sea. If she were not a Jew, how had she then been caught in this city, and at a most inopportune time? Perhaps she was a slave and innocent of shed blood. Seeing her state of disarray, the bones showing through her tunic, his mind balked at the thought. One thing he had found out over the past several weeks was that not everyone in this accursed city was guilty of rebellion against Rome.

“And are you a Jew?” He had to know. His war was with bloodthirsty Jews, not unknowing victims.

“No,” she told him softly. “My father was a Jew, but he. . . he changed when he married my mother and went to live in Samaria.”

“So, you’re Samaritans.” For a moment he looked nonplused. “How do you come to be in Jerusalem?”

Samah realized that she was on very shaky ground. Right now the Roman’s hatred was centered on the Jews, but it wouldn’t be any better for her if he knew that she was a Christian. The slaughter of so many of her brothers and sisters by the madman Nero only a few years ago was still very close to her mind.

So much unrest had occurred in the last year since Nero had committed suicide that the Romans hadn’t had time or thought to continue their persecution of the Christian sect. The four emperors since—Galba, Otho, Vitellius and Vespasian—had far too many problems of their own.

After the Jews had run the Roman legion out of Palestine and held the territory against the Roman war machine, the hatred of Jews had been fanned into a conflagration. Though Rome had eventually regained the territory, it had been a bloody battle, and one the Jews had lost sorely.

Realizing that the tribune was awaiting an answer to his question, Samah bit her bottom lip, wondering just what to tell him.

“My. . .my brother and I were here for Passover. We were trapped inside when the zealots closed the gates and refused to allow anyone to leave.”

His eyes narrowed to slits. “So, you
are
a Jew.”

Samah poured a cup of water with shaking hands and held it beneath the dog’s nose. He hesitated briefly, then began to lap thirstily. She turned to answer the tribune’s question, but stopped when she noticed his shocked expression. Frowning, she glanced back at the dog, then once again at the soldier, unable to determine the reason for his reaction.

“He has never taken even a morsel from someone other than me.”

Cassius came close again and Samah took a hasty step in retreat. She clutched the cup in both hands, her frightened eyes lifted to his. He towered over her slight height, menacing in his uniform that fit snugly across his broad chest. His powerful thighs were visible beneath the short tunic of his outfit, his feet planted firmly apart. He looked every inch the vengeful warrior.

“How have you managed to do this? What form of magic have you used?” Grabbing the cup from her hand, he sniffed it suspiciously. “Have you drugged him?”

Throwing the cup to the floor, Cassius grabbed Samah by the shoulders, pulling her close. His brown eyes glittered menacingly. “So help me, I’ll have you whipped within an inch of your life!”

Palms resting against the armor on his chest, Samah let out a small cry of alarm. The tinny taste of fear left her mouth suddenly dry.

“I’ve done nothing!” she cried. “Please!”

Cassius felt something warm against his forearm, and glancing down he found Sentinel’s mouth gently closed there. The dog whined softly, his sharp eyes seeming to plead with Cassius to let the woman go.

Slowly, he released her, his attention focused on the dog. The dog then loosened his gentle grip and lay back upon the table, his sides heaving with one heartfelt sigh. So shocked was Cassius that he didn’t hear anyone else enter the room.

“Tribune.”

Snapping his attention back to the doorway, he saw Domitus waiting for his acknowledgment. Still rattled by what had just occurred, Cassius stepped away from the table. “What is it?”

Samah let out her breath slowly. She was certain that the tribune would have more to say on the matter. Although he listened to what the soldier had to say, his look never left her. Truth to tell, she had been as amazed as he was. Though she had always had an affinity with animals, this man’s dog seemed to be something out of the ordinary. Had Jehovah truly sent a messenger to protect her and give her hope at a time when she most needed it? Like Balaam and his donkey?

“I have your gear polished and ready for inspection,” the soldier told Cassius. “Would you like to check it now?”

Cassius barely heard him. He stood staring into Samah’s eyes for what seemed an eternity. Finally, he nodded to the soldier without breaking eye contact with her.

Dropping his look to his dog, he told him, “Stay.” Once again, his eyes met Samah’s. “I’ll be back,” he told her softly, and she recognized the subtle threat in his voice.

❧

The sun shone hotly, gleaming off polished armor. Roman ensigns fanned in the cool breeze, fluttering against a bright blue sky.

Cassius awaited his turn to come before General Titus, his mind elsewhere. That Sentinel would turn against him was beyond his comprehension. Though the dog hadn’t injured him at all, he had been shocked by the animal’s ready defense of the young girl the night before.

He was still trying to puzzle out how a Jew could have such unusual eyes. He knew that she must have mixed blood, and that told him that she was not a true Jew. So exactly why was she in Jerusalem at such a volatile time? She had said something about her father not being Jewish after he married her mother, yet they were still in Jerusalem for their holy Pass-over. What exactly had she meant by that? How could a Jew suddenly not be a Jew?

She was hiding something from him, he could tell. She had chosen her words with care, heedful not to say something he might find objectionable.

His gaze went to the Jews huddled on the hillsides beyond, unwilling witnesses to the power of the great Roman army. Tightly drilled ranks of soldiers moved as one body, their shining armor reflecting the sun in a brilliant display.

After Titus gave his speech, the air vibrated with the cheers of his men. On and on their shouts of acclamation rose to the sullen captives beyond, fanning their hatred even further. Brooding countenances gave evidence that the sight of the Roman war machine had, indeed, subdued even the most zealous. Had there been any more ideas of vengeance, the sight of so many men in ready defense quelled them.

Again his mind wandered to last night after he had returned to where he had left Sentinel and the woman. He had asked her name, and she had told him. Being fluent in Aramaic and Hebrew, he knew that her name meant
to bring joy
. Since it was obvious that her defect was from birth, he wondered at her parents’ giving her such a name.

His own mother had left him on the rocks to die when he was but a babe. Without conceit, he knew that he was without flaw, perfect of form. Why then had his own mother rejected him when this young girl had been given a name of joy? If not for General Anticus, he would have been carrion food. The man had been more than a father to him. What of Samah’s father? How had he felt when confronted with a deformed child?

When Cassius’s time came, he stepped forward, accepting the congratulations of his general and the golden crown placed on his head. A medallion of gold was hung around his neck.

As Titus stepped back, he smiled. “The loot from this city must be delivered to my father, the emperor, but if there is some small item you wish for your own, make it known to me, and it will be yours.”

Suddenly, Samah’s face flashed briefly through his mind. He found himself considering an idea that he told himself was utterly ridiculous. He had no need of a woman in his life, and especially one he knew spelled trouble. Still, there was Sentinel to consider.

“Sir, if I might be so bold.”

Surprised, Titus nodded for Cassius to continue.

“There is a young woman. A captive.”

The look of understanding that passed over Titus’s features left Cassius disturbed. The general’s slow smile and lecherous look only added to his discomfort. He wasn’t certain how to explain his request since he wasn’t positive of the reasoning himself.

“She must be quite special for
you
to take notice, my friend. Your hatred for the opposite sex is well known.”

Cassius flushed hotly. “My liege,” he refuted. “I do not hate the fairer sex, I am merely. . .let us say, careful where they are concerned.”

Titus reached out a large hand and squeezed his shoulder briefly. “I understand, Cassius. Take her. The woman is yours.”

Placing his palms flat against his thighs, Cassius bowed slightly, then stepped back among his own men.

When he could finally make his way back to the infirmary, he stopped by his own tent and retrieved a small gold disk. Clutching it in his palm, he wondered at his sudden reluctance to present it to Samah. She was but a captive, after all. A slave. Her feelings shouldn’t matter to him, but somehow he couldn’t get the picture of those liquid blue-green eyes out of his mind.

Growing angry with himself, he slammed into the small building where she awaited him. He had thought that she would be sent with the others when they marched across Palestine, but then he had had that insane idea about keeping her for his own.