Beloved Protector
Autor
Darlene Mindrup
Lecturas
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Capítulos
17
Chapter 1
The Arabs called it khamsin. The Jews called it sharav. Andronicus didn’t care what it was called; the effect was still the same. The fierce winds hit swiftly carrying a thick blanket of sand across Jerusalem and the surrounding vicinity. He pulled his cape around his face as the intense hot air blasted across his skin in rippling waves, threatening to peel the very skin from his flesh. Fortunately, he had made it as far as the caves in the mountains surrounding Jerusalem. Sliding his hands along the limestone walls, he eventually reached an opening and ducked inside.
He and his men had been on a scouting mission, searching out Jewish zealots and sicarii, when the storm had hit, separating him from the other members of his troop.
Sicarii were by far the most dangerous enemies he had encountered in his time here in Jerusalem. They were knife wielders who hid among the crowds and struck anyone they considered to be sympathetic to Rome. He had decided long ago that he was not going to be one of their victims and was ever vigilant. In this land, there were few who were not enemies of Rome.
After the violence of the tempest outside, the inside of the cave was eerily quiet except for the muted sound of the ongoing storm. As he continued deeper into the interior, he gave a sigh of relief at the cooler temperatures. Pulling off his helmet, he brushed the sand from the plume and tucked it under his arm. He glanced quickly around the dim interior and, seeing no imminent threat, began brushing the sand from his cape, his curling black hair and his clean-shaven face. Pulling his water flask from his belt, he swirled a mouthful of water to remove the grit clinging to his teeth and spat it on the ground.
As his eyes adjusted to the dimness, he took a more careful inspection of the interior of the cave, searching for possible hidden enemies, two legged or otherwise. The only light came from the opening behind him, leaving most of the cave in darkness and shadows. His soldier’s instincts immediately went on alert, telling him that he was not alone; he could feel a presence just beyond his sight. The hair tingled on the back of his neck in warning. He placed the helmet back on his head, searching the small cave and noting two large boulders that could well hide a man. Every muscle in his body tensed in preparation for battle.
He slowly pulled his sword from its scabbard, metal scraping against metal in the silence.
“I know you’re in here. Show yourself!” he commanded.
For the past several months, the besieged city of Jerusalem had shown its ability for terror. Even among the German barbarians he had never seen such viciousness. The zealots had wreaked havoc, especially against their own people inside the city. Rome had never fought an enemy so cruel, and Andronicus was in no mood for pity.
No movement or sound met his demand. Using the walls of the cave to protect his back, he advanced carefully toward the nearest boulder. With a quick thrust, he jabbed his sword behind the stone, the clang of the metal striking against the stone’s surface and not a human body. Stirring from behind the other boulder warned him seconds before a figure darted toward the entrance.
Moving quickly, he slashed his sword across the entrance seconds before the figure reached it. With a yelp, the assailant skidded to a halt and, moving faster than Andronicus thought possible, scurried back into the shadows. He hadn’t even had time to get a look at the person.
Adrenaline pumped through his body, setting it on fire with the rage of battle flowing in his veins.
“Come out now, or I will kill you like the coward you are.” He spoke in Aramaic, his voice dangerously low, but surprisingly the figure answered him from the shadows in Greek.
“I am no coward. Please, I want only to leave.”
The dulcet tones could only belong to a woman. Surprise rendered him temporarily speechless.
“Please,” the woman pleaded, “I mean you no harm.”
Andronicus hesitantly lowered his sword, something in the woman’s voice cooling his blood to where he could think more clearly. For weeks, people from inside Jerusalem had been led by starvation to sneak outside the city to search for sustenance in the surrounding shrubbery. Usually they were caught, and Titus had crucified them on crosses close to the walls of Jerusalem—where those behind the walls could see them. Those who made it back inside the walls were killed by the zealots for anything they had managed to pilfer. But someone had obviously made it through the legions of troops and to this cave.
And something was oddly familiar about the woman’s voice. His heart started thrumming in a way it hadn’t for a very long time.
“Come closer,” he commanded.
The woman slowly, cautiously moved forward. She was ragged and unkempt, her size giving the impression of a child rather than a woman. Her dark, tangled hair almost covered her face. When he could finally see her features, shocked amazement froze the words on his tongue. He could tell the instant she recognized him, too.
“Andronicus!”
Her voice came out in a breathless whisper that shivered through him like shards of ice and increased his heartbeat tenfold. He thought he had gotten over his infatuation with this woman long ago, but his heart was telling him otherwise.
“Tapat! What... Why are you here?”
He stared at her in utter amazement. He couldn’t believe this was the same woman who had dressed in fine linen and moved with the grace of a gazelle. She looked more like something from the rat-infested sewers of Rome.
She glanced from him to the sword he still held tightly in his fist. Taken aback by her sudden appearance, he had completely forgotten that he was still brandishing the weapon. Recognizing her trepidation, he gave her a forced smile to reassure her while all kinds of questions swirled through his head, much like the swirling chaos outside. He sheathed his sword, never taking his eyes off her familiar face.
“I...I...”
Her answer was interrupted by a dry, hacking cough. Her tongue darted out to lick parched, chapped lips. His narrowed gaze focused on this telltale sign of dehydration.
He unhooked his water flask and handed it to her. With a grateful look, she quickly upended the goatskin and took a long draft, the water trickling down her throat. With a long sigh of relief, she handed it back to him with shaking hands. Instead of taking it, he asked, “How long have you been without water?”
She dropped her eyes to the ground. “Two days.”
Andronicus’s lips thinned with displeasure. “Two days! Have you been in this cave that long?”
A person could die of thirst in three days, two in this heat. He could tell she didn’t want to answer. She didn’t trust him, not that he could blame her. He was a Roman, after all, and it was his people who now surrounded her city, embarking on a siege that would ultimately put an end to the world as she knew it.
He glanced out the entrance and realized that the sandstorm was not going to abate anytime soon, a fateful intervention he was suddenly thankful for. It would be madness for either of them to try and leave. He looked back at Tapat, a million questions churning through his mind. His hands clenched and unclenched several times as he firmly held back the desire to yank her into his arms.
“It looks like we’re going to be here awhile. Why don’t we sit down and talk?”
The suggestion was met with a look of pure dread. What was it she was so afraid of? They had known each other for years, and although not really friends, surely she knew that he would never hurt her. She hesitated only a moment before nodding her head in acceptance and dropping to the ground at her feet. He could see the trembling of her hands where they clutched the skirt of her dirty and torn tunic.
Andronicus leaned against the boulder, his arms crossed over his chest, willing himself to remain calm.
She again tried to hand him the water flask she was gripping nervously, but he shook his head.
“Go ahead. Drink some more.”
She did as he suggested, sighing with relief from a throat that had to surely be parched from the intense desert heat. He studied her bent head for several seconds. Her hair was dull and matted; he had never seen it thus. Each time he had seen her she had been well-groomed. He could still remember the scent of the rose water she used.
Now that they were together, his brain was too rattled to know how to proceed. It had always been so whenever he was in her proximity. To begin their conversation, he asked her the least innocuous thing he could think of to set her mind at ease.
“Have you heard from Anna lately?”
She jerked her head up, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. He sighed heavily. Obviously, the question was not as inoffensive as he had hoped.
“Tapat, I’m not seeking information about Christians. I’m asking only as a friend.”
She relaxed slightly, but he could tell her guard was still firmly in place.
“I have not heard from Anna for some time. Have you?”
Anna had married his friend Lucius several years ago. Tapat had been a servant in the home of Lucius’s mother, Leah. Andronicus’s contact with Tapat had been minimal, but she had left a lasting impression. His friend Lucius had accused him of being in love with her. He didn’t think it was that, but he had definitely been enamored of her. The erratic beat of his heart told him that it hadn’t forgotten despite his not having seen her in years. Not since the night six years ago when she had saved his life.
The memories came flooding back. He had just returned to Jerusalem, having been sent back by Nero, who wanted him to use his spies to search out those who were fighting against Rome. He had promised Lucius and Anna that he would find Tapat and make certain that she was all right.
It had surprised him that Tapat hadn’t gone with Lucius and Anna when they left for Rome, but Lucius had told him that she had responsibilities in Jerusalem. The look his friend had given him had warned him to ask nothing else. That, of course, had only piqued his interest further.
It had taken him some time to find her. She was living in a small house in the lower quarter of the city where many of the other Christians lived. His appearance at her door hadn’t exactly been the wisest thing he had ever done, but he had been set on seeing her as soon as possible. It hadn’t really occurred to him that his arrival would throw suspicion on Tapat in an already volatile city.
He never had found out what Tapat’s responsibilities were, but then he hadn’t exactly had time. Things in Jerusalem had become intense, especially after General Cestius Gallus had laid siege to Yodfat and then marched on Jerusalem. No one knew why the general had turned back, but it had increased tensions in the region. The whole area was one hotbed of hatred. And now Titus had moved his troops to surround the city and finish what Gallus had not.
Tapat had come to him one night at the Antonia Fortress shortly after his arrival. Her courage surprised him; he never imagined that she would even come near the place. He and his soldiers were supposed to go out the next day and Tapat warned him of an ambush.
He had been sent back to Rome shortly after that incident and had only returned now with General Titus. He hadn’t seen her again, until today.
He looked at Tapat now sitting on the ground at his feet. Face tilted upward, her dark brown eyes were luminous from the reflected light entering the cave’s entrance. She was a tiny little thing, standing only as tall as his heart. Her looks were so ordinary she would easily be overlooked in a crowd; some would call her plain, yet he had never failed to notice her. Whenever she was around, his eyes attached to her like the magnetic stones he had brought back from Germania.
“Andronicus?”
He snapped back to the present, one brow lifted in question.
“I asked if you had heard from Anna or Lucius.”
He shook his head, not only to answer her question, but to clear it of the invading memories. “No. No, I have not. They left Rome when the persecution of Christians began.”
Tapat’s eyes darkened with anger. “I heard about the atrocities being perpetrated upon the Christians.”
That would explain her reluctance to confide in him. He met her look squarely. “I helped them to leave.”
He saw her shoulders relax. They studied each other for several seconds, each trying to think of something more to say. He had so many questions that he didn’t know where to begin. Finally, Andronicus leaned forward, his eyes intent.
“Why did you disappear? I wanted to thank you for saving my life and the life of my men, but when I went back to your house, you were gone and you never returned. I know because I paid someone to watch for you.”
Her eyes widened at this declaration. She stared into his eyes as though trying to see past them and into his mind. Whatever she was searching for eluded her. Sighing softly, she looked away. “I knew that they would come searching for me. The zealots have spies everywhere and they would have surely seen me at the Antonia.”
“Where did you go?”
She looked up at him and smiled, though he could tell the smile was strained. “It’s not important.”
He wanted to argue with her, but one thing he knew about Tapat—she would tell him nothing that she didn’t want to.
“Why are you still here in Jerusalem? I heard that the Christians had left some time ago. From what I gather, most of them have settled in Pella in the Decapolis region. Why did you not go with them?”
That look of panic was back in her eyes, making him go cold all over. What was she so afraid of? She couldn’t possibly think that he would betray her. Or could she?
“I wasn’t able to at the time,” she told him reluctantly.
There it was again, that mystery that always seemed to surround her. Had other things not gotten in his way, he would have discovered her secret by now. Like a dog gnawing at a bone, he wouldn’t give up until he finally knew what she had always kept hidden. He frowned, realizing just how ruthless that made him sound but, frankly, he didn’t care.
“Why were you not able?”
She met his look of determination and, after several seconds, sighed in resignation.
* * *
Tapat stared at Andronicus and felt the reviving of those feelings she had thought long dispelled. She had been in love with him for years, this bold soldier of Rome. It did no good to berate herself. Her heart had never forgotten him, though his physical image had faded over the intervening years. Its intense throbbing reminded her of that now.
He was as handsome as ever, though his face bore the harsh lines of his profession. His dark hair and sun-bronzed skin were set apart by the glowing cinnamon color of his eyes. Those determined eyes were staring at her now, demanding an answer, and she knew the time had come.
“I couldn’t leave my mother,” she finally answered him.
His lips parted in surprise. “I thought your mother was dead. Isn’t that why you were working as Leah’s servant?”
She looked down, unable to meet his compelling stare. It was time to tell him the truth even though he would probably shun her as everyone else had.
And what did it matter anyway? Andronicus could never be anything to her. He was a soldier of Rome, an enemy of her people. More to the point, his life was one of heathen hedonism. If she had thoughts of anything between them, she had best forget them before she wound up with a broken heart.
“My mother was a leper in the Valley of Lepers several miles from here.”
It had taken great courage to push the words past her lips, but the relief of it made her thankful that she had finally found the strength to admit it to him.
The silence that followed was profound. She chanced a peek at him and saw that his mind was trying to assimilate what she had just revealed to him. Instead of horror, she saw confusion.
“I don’t understand. You were a slave when Leah bought you.”
Her pulse was pounding in her ears. He wasn’t looking at her with disgust but, rather, pity. She was thankful that he hadn’t withdrawn from her after her revelation; still, she didn’t want his pity.
“When the priests told my mother that she had leprosy, everyone we knew withdrew from us, even my father. He tried to take me with him, but I ran away and went back to my mother. He was too afraid to come after me. Without my father’s support, we had no way to live, so I sold myself as a slave to a man in the city who hadn’t heard of my mother’s disease, and I used the money he paid me to secretly care for her.”
He studied her thoughtfully. “Yet, you have no sign of the disease.”
She shook her head, once again not meeting his eyes. “After I sold myself, my mother was so upset that she decided to live in the leper colony rather than be a burden on me or possibly infect me. It took me days to find her.” Tears filled her voice. “As though she could ever be a burden,” she added heatedly.
There was a long pause.
“You said she was a leper?” His soft voice held sympathy. “Did she die?”
Tapat’s throat was choked with a grief that was still too new. She nodded, fighting to suppress the tears that wanted to undo all the feelings she had firmly held in check.
“Two days ago,” she choked out. Despite herself, a lone tear escaped and slid down her cheek.
At Andronicus’s low growl, she looked up.
He reached down and pulled her into his arms, holding her head against his chest. The metal plates dug into her cheek, but she barely noticed.
“Go ahead and cry,” he told her hoarsely.
She resisted but a moment and then surrendered to the grief she had been holding at bay for the past two days. Her eyes let forth an unceasing river of misery and pain, pain that had been with her ever since they had been banned from the Jewish community years ago. His other arm wrapped more tightly around her waist. It was as though he was trying to take the hurt from her and onto himself.
Eventually, there were no more tears left to fall. Grief spent, she hung limply in his arms. He continued to stroke her back in a way that brought comfort and security. It had been so long since she had had anyone to lean on, and it felt good to be able to relax and surrender to his care.
“What will you do now?” he asked softly.
“I don’t know,” she murmured. She would be content to stand thus the rest of her life. “There’s nothing for me in Jerusalem now. I’ll probably go to Pella.”
She felt him tense. “Alone?”
She glanced up at him and blanched in surprise when she found his face so near. Realizing the precariousness of the situation, she pushed out of his arms to put some distance between them. His reluctance to let her go mirrored her own, but she had learned long ago that she could only depend on herself and Elohim.
She met his gaze with one of determination. “I am alone. I have been for years. I can take care of myself.”
He lifted a brow dubiously. “Do you have food and money for this journey?”
“I have money,” she answered. “I will go into Jerusalem and buy some food before setting out.”
He shook his head. As he took her by the shoulders, she swallowed hard at his suddenly fierce expression.
“There is no food, Tapat. Titus has allowed people into Jerusalem, but he will allow no one out. If you go in, you will be killed. The zealots will think you a spy. Either that or you will starve to death like those people you see hanging on the crosses outside of the city walls. Many of them snuck out of the city, desperate for food, even to eat the grass growing around the city, and were caught.”
She had been hearing stories of what was happening in and around Jerusalem, but living so close to the leper colony, they had been just that—stories. Dodging her way through the hordes of Roman soldiers between the Valley of Lepers and Jerusalem had made the stories all too real. She had had no idea of where she was going or what she would do when she got there, but she had to make it to this cave, where she had stored most of the gold Leah had given her. But gold would do her no good without food and water.
Releasing her, Andronicus brushed a hand back through his hair in agitation.
He turned back to her. “Don’t go into Jerusalem. Stay here. I’ll find a way to get some supplies to you.”
Suddenly afraid for him, she placed a hand on his arm. “That’s not necessary, Andronicus. I don’t want to cause trouble for you.”
He placed his hand over hers, squeezing gently. The heat from his calloused palm traveled up her arm and then slowly warmed her entire body. When their eyes met, something passed between them that left her too shaken to acknowledge.
“It’s no trouble,” he told her roughly. “Promise that you will wait here for me, even if it takes a day or two.”
He took a small bundle from his belt and handed it to her along with his water flask.
“It’s not much, but it will keep you from starving and thirsting.”
She tried to hand it back to him. “What about you? The heat from the sharav can quickly kill a man without water.”
He closed her hands around the containers and wrapped his own hands around them. “I am not far from my camp. I can get more. Take it, and promise me you will wait.”
She nodded reluctantly. “Very well. I will wait.”
She followed his look to the entrance of the cave and realized that the storm had abated without their notice. He released her hands and lifted a palm to cup her cheek. He stared hard into her eyes for several long seconds. When he spoke, his voice was husky.
“I’ll come back soon. I promise.”
With that, he picked up his cape from the floor of the cave where he had dropped it. Giving her one last look, he disappeared outside.
