Beloved Protector (Heartsong Presents) (13 page)

He wasn’t certain what they were going to do with the little babe. Although the goat’s milk was keeping him alive, he was on a razor-thin edge. His little body was not growing as it should because he couldn’t get enough sustenance by just sucking dropperfuls at a time. Perhaps when they got to Pella they could figure out a better way to nourish him. Mayhap they would even find a wet nurse.

Andronicus placed Hazaq on the blanket in the tent, taking a moment to rub a calloused finger across his downy little cheek. Who would this innocent little child grow up to be? So many scenarios played through his mind, none of them to his liking. There was no denying that the babe had wormed his way into Andronicus’s heart. It was going to be a wrench to leave him.

After exiting the tent, Andronicus went and stood next to Tapat, who was kneeling beside Crassus.

“How is he?”

She shook her head as she used a cloth to wipe the perspiration from Crassus’s forehead. “He has the beginning of a fever.”

That was certainly not a good sign. Andronicus knelt beside her. “What do you want to do?”

“I need to remove the wrapping around his wound, but I hate to awaken him when I know how exhausted and weak he must be.”

Andronicus gently shook the other man’s shoulder. “Crassus. Wake up.”

Recognizing the commanding voice, Crassus’s eyes quickly opened. Andronicus’s mouth tilted into a lopsided smile. Even asleep and with a fever, he still recognized his commander’s voice. It was drummed into them early in their training, as was the ability to focus in spite of injury or pain.

Despite his earlier reservations about Crassus, he had proved his worth time and time again. With each passing day, he grew fonder of the boy. Andronicus had no doubt in his mind that Crassus would willingly die for those he was loyal to. Perhaps it was not so hard to understand Tapat’s concern after all; Crassus had bestowed on her the same fierceness of devotion that he had for his legion. He felt a sharp pang at the thought and recognized it for the jealousy that it was.

“Tribune?” Crassus questioned in a raspy voice. He tried to rise, but Tapat gently pushed him back.

“It’s all right, Crassus,” she soothed. “We merely need to change your bandage.”

He settled back with a sigh, his eyes rolling back into his head.

Andronicus lifted Crassus’s tunic, exposing his loin cloth. Tapat colored hotly, turning her face away.

“Do you want me to do it?” Andronicus asked her.

She shook her head, swallowing down her discomfort. “No, I need you to bring me some water to wash away the salt.”

He hesitated. “Are you certain?”

She nodded, focusing her attention on removing the bandage.

Andronicus retrieved the flask of water and handed it to her. As gently as possible, she poured it over the wound as she wiped away the crystals of salt at the same time. Crassus sucked in his breath, his hands clutching the blanket he lay upon.

Tapat lightly and carefully smoothed the balm mixture over the wound. It took only moments before Crassus’s body relaxed, his teeth slowly unclenching.

“Better?” Tapat asked him, once again wiping the perspiration from his face.

He nodded tightly, and Tapat set about rewrapping the wound.

Tapat looked up at Andronicus. “I need a cup of wine.”

With a quick jerk of the head in affirmation, he quickly retrieved the flask that contained the fermented drink. Tapat then added it to the resinous liquid in the bowl she had placed in the fire. When the mixture had cooled enough, she helped Crassus to sit up enough to drink the gall, then helped him to settle back against the blanket.

“In a few moments, you should feel an ease of the pain and be able to sleep.”

He gave her a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

She waited until she was certain Crassus was asleep before she left from his side. Andronicus lifted a brow in question.

“What now?”

“Now,” Tapat said wearily, gathering up the dirty laundry, “I need to wash Hazaq’s swaddling cloths.”

Andronicus took them from her and she looked at him in surprise.

“Why don’t you wash your own clothes and take a bath in the river?” He had seen the yearning in her eyes ever since they had reached the Jordan. “I will wash Hazaq’s clothing.”

Her brow lifted dubiously and he grinned. “I’m not helpless, you know. I do know how to wash linen strips.”

She still looked uncertain. “If you are sure.”

“I am. You may move over into the darkness, but stay close enough that I can hear you if you call.”

She glanced at the soiled cloths and then back at the river longingly. Finally giving in to the desire, she smiled in capitulation. She grabbed a blanket from the tent to wrap herself in while her clothing dried and hurried past him into the darker area of the river just beyond the campfire.

Andronicus moved down to the water’s edge and began dipping the cloths up and down in the water. He found a rock to pound them on and continued pounding and wringing while surreptitiously watching Tapat’s shadowy figure in the darkness beyond.

He heard her singing, her soft, musical voice more soothing than the moving water. The words were about her Christ, her Savior who had died on a Roman cross. For some reason, the words reached deep into the inner recesses of his mind and conjured up pictures that he would like to forget.

In front of Jerusalem right this very minute many more crosses lined the roads, crosses with people screaming in pain.

Such things had been a part of his life for many years, so why was it bothering him so much now? The curious words of the song penetrated his musing.

Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.

What kind of mixed up nonsense was that? The only thing he was certain of was that this woman had tied him up in knots and he didn’t know how to extricate himself—or even if he wanted to.

He snorted in derision, reminding himself again that he was in the middle of a war. He didn’t have time for romance.

Chapter 13

T
hey traveled northward following the river’s course. Two wearying days later they reached the outer region of the city of Pella.

Tapat was relieved to see that Crassus no longer flinched in pain with every plodding step. The balm had worked, and with the aloe, his wound was healing. The fever she had been worrying over ceased to exist, and she attributed that to prayer more than anything.

As they passed through a wooded area beside the Jordan and close to the city, they heard voices off to their left. The soldiers, including Crassus, tensed and drew their swords swiftly from their scabbards. His fierce countenance gave no indication of pain.

Tapat marveled at the endurance of Roman soldiers. Somehow, they willed themselves to ignore even excruciating pain when faced with the possibility of conflict. It was no wonder that Rome had conquered most of the known world when it commanded men like that.

“Stay here,” Andronicus commanded Tapat and, together with his troops, he slowly headed in the direction of the voices.

Tapat sat frozen to the spot, tightening her hold on Hazaq. Terrible images she had been trying her best to forget resurfaced in her mind. “Please, Lord. Not again,” she whispered.

Voices drifted to her on the calm morning air, and her eyes widened in surprise. People were singing a hymn. Recognizing the words, Tapat was suddenly filled with overwhelming joy. Praise the Lord, she had found the very ones she had been seeking.

Ignoring Andronicus’s command, she carefully slid from the horse so as not to drop Hazaq and followed in Andronicus’s direction.

When she reached a clearing in the trees, she could see Andronicus and the men sitting quietly on their horses watching a group of people clustered on the banks of the river. There were both men and women, elderly and young. The tunics they wore spoke of both poverty and wealth.

Two men were standing in the river, one gray and elderly, the other just past youth. The elderly man had his hand on the back of the other. Realizing what was happening, Tapat hurried forward.

Andronicus noticed her and told her to stop, but she ignored him and continued on.

At his commanding voice, the area went quiet. The people turned to stare, their eyes widening in alarm when they recognized the Roman uniforms.

Tapat saw her friend Mary among the crowd.

“Mary!” she called, waving frantically. Before she could move farther, Andronicus stood and blocked her way. She glanced up at him in surprise. So intent had she been on reaching her friend, she hadn’t even noticed that he’d left his horse.

“What do you think you are doing?” he demanded angrily.

“It’s all right,” she told him, looking past him to the others. “They are my friends.”

Andronicus glanced over his shoulder, lifting a brow in question. She couldn’t blame him. They didn’t look particularly welcoming. Even Mary was hesitant to greet her in the light of her present company.

She tried to move around Andronicus, but his stance was unyielding. Using the opportunity afforded her, she handed him Hazaq.

“Here. Hold him.”

Taken by surprise, he had to cuddle the babe close to keep from dropping him. While his attention was diverted, Tapat quickly dodged around him and hurried to the now murmuring crowd.

“Mary,” she called again, but Mary was too frightened to acknowledge her.

Tapat’s steps slowed. She searched the faces for others she might recognize. Some she had seen before in Jerusalem, but that had been three years ago.

“It’s all right,” she informed them. “These men mean you no harm. They are my friends.”

“You keep strange friends,” a voice from the crowd whispered, and Tapat felt the hackles on her neck rise in anger. She glared at the crowd, but instead of lashing out, she remembered her own feelings about these men not so very long ago.

“I have come from Jerusalem,” she told them in frustration. “I am no spy. Mary knows who I am.”

Finally getting up her courage, Mary nodded to an older man in the group Tapat supposed was one of the congregational leaders. His white hair and kind brown eyes reminded her of the Apostle John, who she had once met. He stepped forward, stopping when he glanced over her shoulder.

Turning slightly, Tapat found Andronicus standing behind her and holding Hazaq close. The look he gave her seared her more thoroughly than the
sharav
heat that had scorched them for much of the way here. Ignoring his anger, she told the elderly man, “These are my friends. They traveled here with me to assure my safety. My name is Tapat.”

He studied her silently for several seconds, looking deep into her eyes for the honesty of her statement. She had the feeling that nothing could be hidden from his discerning eyes. When he smiled, it reduced his apparent old age by years.

“Welcome, then, little sister.” He looked from Andronicus to the others waiting just behind. “You are all welcome to join us in our celebration. Democides has just this morning decided to put on the Lord in baptism, and then we will adjourn to my house and celebrate the Lord’s Day of the Lord together. My name is Jason, by the way.”

Tapat’s eyes widened. So much had happened in the past several days she had lost track of the days. It had been a long time since she had been able to worship with other believers. Joy rippled through her, making her want to join them in lifting her voice in praise.

“I wish to be baptized.”

Recognizing the voice, Tapat turned to find Crassus standing just behind Andronicus. Andronicus whirled around so quickly it startled Hazaq, and he began to whimper. Tapat and Andronicus both stared at Crassus in astonishment.

With a squeal, Tapat threw herself into the boy’s arms and hugged him exuberantly. He flinched, sucking in a sharp breath at the pain she caused him but stoically enduring her congratulations.

Jason stared at them all with uncertainty. “You believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the living God?” he asked Crassus skeptically.

“I believe.” There was no denying the conviction in his voice.

“Crassus.” Andronicus’s voice held a warning. Crassus looked at his commander, his face filled with determination. They could hear the murmuring of the other soldiers mixed with the astonished murmurings of the crowd.

Jason glanced from Crassus to Andronicus and back again. It was clear that he was uncertain how to proceed.

Tapat laid her hand on the old man’s arm. “I have been studying with Crassus. If he says he believes, then it is so.” They locked eyes, and once again Tapat felt as though the old man could see into her very soul.

Jason looked at Andronicus. “Then I have no objection.”

Andronicus handed the now fussing Hazaq to Tapat. She tried to reassure him with her eyes that everything would be all right, but he refused to look at her.

“Are you certain that you want to go down this path?” he asked Crassus.

Crassus took a deep breath. “I am certain.”

“Then so be it.”

He turned and walked back to the others, his stiff back speaking clearly of his feelings on the matter. Climbing onto his horse, he sat waiting for Tapat and Crassus to return to their own mounts, ignoring the heated remonstrances from his men.

The crowd parted as Crassus moved between them, heading for the river. When he reached the shore, he took off his gladius and armor, leaving only his blood-red tunic and hobnailed boots. Even without his armor, and despite his youth, he was impressive.

He glanced at Tapat, and she came and briefly clutched his hand. A look of understanding passed between them. From this time forth, he would be her brother in the Lord.

He walked into the water with the other men. They threw him uneasy glances but returned to their business.

“On your confession of faith in our Lord Jesus, Democides, I now baptize you in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit for the forgiveness of your sins.”

With that, the old man lay Democides back, plunging him beneath the Jordan’s moving waters. When he lifted him up again, Democides smiled through the water running down his face. The two hugged and Democides moved up to the shore to be embraced by the joyous crowd.

The old man glanced hesitantly at Crassus but motioned him forward.

“I didn’t catch your name,” he said in embarrassment.

“Crassus.”

Nodding, the old man then placed a hand on Crassus’s back. “On your confession of faith in our Lord Jesus, Crassus, I now baptize you in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit for the forgiveness of your sins.”

* * *

Andronicus watched as Crassus was plunged beneath the river, his feelings a riot of confusion. As the boy’s commander, he was hesitant to give his consent to the proceedings. He should have tried to dissuade the boy from taking such a step but, met with such determination, he had no choice but to concede. Reprisal would come later, no doubt. Although his men had tolerated Tapat as the Christian she was, he had no doubt that they would feel much differently about Crassus. It would be hard to trust your back to someone who spoke of loving your enemies.

When Crassus rose from the water, his drenched face was filled with undeniable joy. The first person he searched for was Tapat. She stood nearby holding Hazaq, tears running down her cheeks, her face mirroring Crassus’s joy.

Andronicus again felt that serpent of jealousy writhing its way through him. With Crassus’s acceptance of Tapat’s God, there was nothing to keep them apart. Unlike him.

His jealousy was mixed with confusion. An aura of peace mixed with the joy that now filled Crassus’s face. The same peace he had always seen in Tapat regardless of circumstances. How did plunging beneath water bring a person such happiness? He had seen the same thing in his friend Lucius. If he asked, would Tapat give him the answer as readily as she gave it to Crassus?

Crassus climbed from the river and gathered his gear. The people on the bank were swarming him and the other man, Democides, hugging and smiling. With that one act, Crassus had gone from being a foe to being a friend. Andronicus shook his head at the lunacy of it.

Jason walked over to Andronicus. “If you will follow me to my house, we will help you and your men get situated. And if it is not too much to ask, the church elders would like to meet with you and Tapat for a few minutes.”

Andronicus felt himself bristle. Something in the man’s tone put his teeth on edge. He was fairly certain that although the words were innocuous enough, it was not a request. But Tapat’s future depended on these people, so he pushed down his irritation and nodded.

Crassus held Hazaq while Tapat remounted, then he handed her the bundle and climbed onto his own horse. They all followed the Christians through the column-lined streets of Pella. It was a beautiful city, more Greek than Roman. Statues of the gods in their Greek and Roman forms lined the streets.

They passed through the forum, where most of the businessmen of the city had gathered, and by the civic center, where in the amphitheater a play by Ovid was taking place. Everywhere they went, people stopped and stared.

Jason finally stopped before a large villa. He opened the gate in the outer wall and motioned for everyone to precede him. The affluence of the place was apparent on first entering the gate. Seldom had Andronicus seen such a beautiful home, even in Rome.

Servants came to take the horses.

Andronicus pulled off his helmet and tucked it under his arm. He was longing to take advantage of the public bath, but that would have to wait.

Tapat started to walk by him, but he reached out and grasped her upper arm. “Jason says that the elders would like to speak to us.”

She looked at him in surprise. “Now? But it is the Lord’s Day of the Lord. It’s time to worship.”

Jason overheard and came to their side. “Tapat is correct. It
is
time to worship. You are welcome to join us.”

Andronicus glared at the man. “I think not. My men and I will find accommodations in the city.” He looked at Tapat. “I assume you are staying?”

She nodded, her eyes pleading with him to reconsider. Turning away, he asked, “When did you wish to meet?”

Jason glanced from Andronicus to Tapat. “Can you come back this evening?”

Andronicus nodded. He would take full advantage of the baths and then find a place to settle himself and his men for the night.

“I wish to remain for a time, Tribune,” Crassus told him.

Andronicus hesitated before finally relenting. “As you wish.”

Andronicus pulled Tapat to the side and out of the hearing of the others. He searched her face carefully. “Will you be all right?”

He saw in her eyes her reluctance for him to leave and he found himself loathe to do so, but he intended to do some scouting around and find out about these Christians before he would be willing to leave Tapat in their hands for long. He cupped her cheek with his palm, stroking his thumb across her lips. The pupils of her eyes darkened in response and he smiled inwardly. She was not as unaffected as she pretended to be.

“I will be fine.” Hazaq began to fuss and Tapat pulled away from Andronicus’s touch. “I must see to Hazaq.”

She had pulled away from him mentally and physically, but he was too experienced in the ways of women to be fooled. She
was
attracted to him.

“I will return this evening.”

The look that flashed through her eyes this time was easy to interpret.

“I promise,” he reiterated, and she nodded apprehensively.

As he followed his men out the door, he turned one last time and saw Tapat still standing where he had left her.