Remnant of the Fall Page 6

  Martha grasped her hand. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Tirzah. I just want you to be aware of what lies ahead.”

  Tirzah looked back at her mother with a frown. “Yes, Mother, I know. And I’m proud that Enan is willing to defend us.” She walked out of the kitchen, leaving her mother with what she hoped was a newfound admiration for Enan Asher.

  Chapter Ten

  Marcus asked the commanders to meet him in a tent used to house the horses near the secondary courtyards. They had details to discuss that could not be broached in the presence of others who had met in the consultant’s room the previous night.

  The commanders were being fitted into their bronze armors and discussing the journey over the mountain. “Separating and surrounding the area has an advantage,” Octavius stated as he tugged the metal vest over his broad chest.

  Timothy added, “It will take longer to go down the mountain than go up. The back of the mountainside is steep, making it difficult to maneuver.”

  Marcus opened the flap of the tent, surprising them both, and joined in. “Which means we will need to go single-file down the mountain? We will expose ourselves for a longer period of time, making it more dangerous, and it will take most of the morning to structure into formations, but we will be fighting a smaller group of men. They will deploy most of their men to the village where Josiah is, leaving us with an easy conquest.”

  “There is a chance Josiah can escape before we arrive,” Timothy reminded.

  “Yes, but he could not go far. He has not settled anywhere since he left Gimel.” The more they talked the more confident they felt about Marcus’s decision to use the less obvious tactic and take their enemy by surprise. Once the plan was discussed at length with the soldiers, they would be prepared to move quickly as needed after reaching the bottom of the hill.

  They went to the temple to make their sacrifice to Aries, the god of war. One of the two pillars on either side of the entrance was gold, the other emerald, which shone brightly in the early morning sun. The libation was the blood of a slaughtered steer. The slow melody from a flute played as warm blood was poured over the soldiers’ hands as they held them palm-up to the heavens to attain physical strength. A channel surrounded the oval opening of the altar to carry off the blood of the sacrifice.

  After washing with holy water, the commanders explained to each regiment its individual part. With that, they were ready to deploy.

  The early morning heat rose, bringing with it the smell of horse and human sweat; sweat not just from the heat, but from men eager and nervous for battle. Having gathered the great army together, Marcus sat on his horse in the middle of them and rallied the troops.

  “I detect that as we go on this campaign, you will not follow with the enthusiasm of old. We must make a decision together—are we to go forward, or end this campaign and settle for what we have at the present? Remember that through your courage and endurance, you have gained the plunder of many towns and cities, and now even Josiah himself awaits you. You have been told of the country that lies ahead. The area we ride to is the least like desert of all the land. At the end of the mountain range stands Mount Haran, which is divided by the Mejeda River, where wheat is grown. You will be fighting sons of farmers.”

  Marcus smirked at this as a murmur of laughter filtered through the men. His armies were sons of warriors. They had no need for farmers, as they took from those they conquered. He felt encouraged by the men’s show of unity as he spoke. All eyes were on him, and the soldiers lifted their swords to him as they clamored in agreement. But Marcus knew he still needed to raise their desire to fight.

  With Maximus out of the way, he felt he could do just that. There had been desertions from every unit, until he made an example of one soldier caught traveling to a nearby village and dragged him back to Jerusalem by his ankles in manacles chained to a chariot. This time, force would not work. Marcus must use words to inspire them to fight. He could not imagine that after his grand speech any one of them would show cowardice, but if they did, he had commanded the cowards be killed once they pulled out.

  “We have shared the peril of battle, and therefore the rewards are for all. The dominated regions belong to us now, and when all Palestine is overrun and Josiah is captured, the power will be ours. And listen to the last of my words. Whoever wishes to remain, I will make you envy those who return.” A great cheer rippled through the crowd in a wave, then boomed all together as one huge roar. Marcus checked with his commanders on either side of him and grinned, then jutted out his chin, eager to lead them to battle.

  He led the procession of thirty-five hundred-plus men, a rumble flowed through them. The commanders rode up beside him in good cheer. “Well done, General.”

  “Hear, hear!” said another.

  “Off to victory, men!” Marcus bellowed and clucked his horse into a trot.

  ****

  Standing on his balcony, Maximus waved an ostrich feather of luck to the troops, his face stoic and his head lowered as he stared down at the mass. He held out a hand for Felicia to join him. His eyes narrowed as they shifted to hers. She scanned the crowds of men, and then her eyes rested on one. He followed her gaze to Anthony. Anthony looked straight ahead and followed to the right of his general. At least he could still control one. Anthony knew better than to try to throw a glance at her.

  Jealousy over Anthony’s loyalty to Marcus began to creep in as Maximus noticed the commander watching the general’s every move as well. Marcus’s words had lifted the army’s spirits without the use of force. Marcus’s ways maddened him. If only he could gain the same control and respect.

  He felt a failure watching the men go off to fight without being by their side. He tried to shut it down with the rationale of his blood being too precious to be spilled. After all, even Josiah was in hiding.

  But Maximus knew Josiah would follow his troops into battle. In Josiah’s younger years, he’d fought, and later, observed from afar. He would sit on his horse and make decisions for his general to carry out.

  The procession began with the standard-bearer and horn blower who signaled either warning or directions with their flags and horns. Soon after, the light infantry followed. They held spears against their shoulders, keeping in step with the standard-bearer before them. These were less mature younger men who were of the poor class and wore little to protect them. They were used to draw the enemy onto the battle line so the heavy infantry could do the intense fighting. The heavy infantry was composed of populace who could afford the needed equipment for the seasoned fight—a helmet, shield, armor, and spear or sword. When the combat became too fierce, the heavy infantry would fall back, leaving the least dependable, inexperienced troops to take the fall until the veteran fighters could regain their strength and reenter the fight.

  The sun was a full yellow blaze just above the horizon as the last of the army passed. Maximus continued to watch as the sand flew up behind the cavalry horses’ hooves, tailing the long procession. The sway of the horses entranced him as they high stepped their exit, until he noticed Anthony and another commander loping their horses to the rear of the cavalry.

  Steadying his horse, Anthony looked back just long enough to catch a glimpse of Felicia and smiled. Felicia knew Maximus was watching her but could not suppress a smile and small wave.

  He grabbed her and pulled her away from the ledge of the balcony, out of Anthony’s view, where he twisted her arm in anger.

  She frowned and pulled away. “Release me,” Felicia hissed.

  Maximus let go of her arm but grasped her shoulders, pulling her to him. “Why do you act so foolishly?” She turned away under the intensity of his glare.

  “You are the one who acts foolishly. Every man I have ever received attention from, you remove from my presence.”

  Surprised at her bold response, Maximus stared deeper into her eyes. “You have not chosen wisely, dear one. I only want what is best for you, and with Father gone, it is my responsibility.”

&nbs
p; The mention of their father caused tears to well up, and Felicia accepted her half-brother’s consoling touch. “Sometimes it seems as if he is still among us.”

  Maximus drew his brows together as she glanced past him as if seeing their father standing behind them.

  “Do you ever feel that way? That he is still alive, just away somewhere and will return to us?” Felicia asked in a far-off voice.

  Maximus looked quickly behind him as if he felt a presence there. Seeing nothing but a flower-filled vase against the stone wall, he turned back to her. Her smile at his gesture made him wince at his guilty conscience that could cause him to respond in such a way.

  I miss him.” Her voice was but a whisper, and he pulled her close. The smell of desert rose filled his nostrils as he moved strands of hair from her face and held her head to his chest. Feeling her small head on his chest aroused his senses, and he enveloped her in his arms. His first kiss to her head opened her eyes. When he placed a second kiss on her forehead, she pulled away as a tear streaked her cheek.

  “You have me now to care for you.” He brushed a finger across her cheek to wipe the tear away and then lifted the drop to his mouth to taste the salty moistness of her, savoring the flavor on his tongue.

  Felicia backed away, her brows raised and jaw slackened, until her calf caught the edge of a chair and she tumbled into the soft leather. Maximus’s lips curled into what he meant to be a comforting smile, but she reacted with fear. She jumped from the chair in an attempt to flee.

  He stepped in front of her and locked his gaze on hers, deftly grabbing her arm when she put a hand to his chest to keep him at arm’s length.

  She stiffened. “Let me pass.”

  The challenge angered Maximus. “You will not order me to do or not do anything,” he seethed through gritted teeth. “When will you learn your place with me?”

  Gathering her emotions, she bowed her head. “I am tired and need solitude.” Pleased with her submission, he nodded and gestured for her to go. She stepped quickly away, leaving him with thoughts of what punishment he should cast upon her if she refused his affection again.

  His lip trembled as the hollow feelings of her rejection tore at his soul. He put a fist to his mouth to stop the quiver as a slave approached.

  “Do you wish some wine, my lord?” He bowed and waited a reply.

  The abject humility of the slave pleased Maximus. This was the behavior he wished from all, not just his slaves. This is what he wanted from Felicia. He could not help himself when he was around her. His senses roused, and he acted out of his desire for her, which always brought about further rejection.

  The slave held up a goblet and waited. Maximus rubbed his upper lip, grabbed it, and drained its contents. Wiping his mouth, he asked, “The harem dancer from last night. What is her name?”

  “Diana, my lord.”

  “Bring her to my bed chambers.”

  The slave nodded and backed away.

  The wine and the thought of the harem girl pleased Maximus, and his spirits lifted. She had been asleep before when he entered his bed, but responded seductively in her half-awakened state, as if knowing what pleased him, until her eyes opened and she let out a small gasp. Then she had moved methodically and awkwardly.

  Thinking back, he wondered what had changed her mood. His dark, sharp eyes, long black hair and olive skin had a foreboding effect on people not familiar with him, but that seemed to quickly fall away once they learned of his inner weakness.

  Carrying his empty goblet, he stopped to have it refilled, taking his time. He wanted her to be there waiting for him when he walked into the room. He meandered under an arch out of the palace grounds, drinking his wine and smelling the new-sprung tulips.

  Claudius had spared no expense honoring himself with the expansive grounds. He’d even gone so far as to mount a life-sized statue of himself in the center of the city.

  Many gathered at the bath houses, steamed-powered by underground systems he had ordered built. A grassy knoll lead to an amphitheater lined with a palisade of palms and a statue of Zeus, the promenade to one of many temples, each for a different god, gleaming and grand. Past this lay the plaza full of tradesmen wearing emblems on their lapels symbolizing what goods they sold or service provided. Shops of every kind sold figs, grapes, barley bread, and goods of jewelry and linens. The merchants set up stalls each morning and folded them up at night. The entertainment of horse races, gymnasiums, and brothels filled the farther part of the city.

  Sitting on a stone bench, Maximus watched the people eating, drinking, and shopping while he finished his wine and had the goblet filled again before reaching the palace.

  The elaborate doors to his chambers felt exceptionally heavy in his drunken state. He fumbled for the latch then pushed the doors fully open to make an entrance. The wind tunneled through the room, causing the purple sheers on the large open windows to sway.

  The harem girl lay on the bed and called out in a husky tone. “General?”

  Maximus tried to focus on her and watched as she sat upright in the bed. He took wide, deliberate steps to her as her eyes widened with recognition. Maximus grabbed her shoulders and pulled her up to him. She folded her legs behind her on the bed to hold herself up.

  His face inches from hers, spittle flew as he yelled his question. “Marcus? Do you confuse me with Marcus?”

  She shook her head and tried to back away, but he held tighter, and then threw her down onto his bed. She let out a cry and scrambled to the other side. He placed his hands on top of his head and squeezed, trying to make sense of her mistake.

  “Forgive me, master. I thought you—” She stopped cold as his eyes narrowed into slits and locked onto hers. Sweat dropped from his wrinkled brow as he let it sink in. The reality of what had happened made his mind buzz with humiliation, as he realized what Marcus had left for him after his departure.

  Marcus’s scheming played in Maximus’s mind. How could he have the gall to take pleasure in Maximus’s chosen one? What could Marcus possibly think would happen to him upon his return? Would this be Maximus’s opportunity to have the general killed?

  No. If he came home victorious, which he surely would, the people would never let anything happen to him. He would be their hero, their god.

  “No!” Maximus shouted. The girl ran from the room, leaving Maximus alone with the madness consuming him.

  Chapter Eleven

  Tired after a morning of chores and the afternoon picnic with Tirzah, Enan tended to Legend and then washed and dressed for dinner with Abraham. As he walked down the dirt road to Abraham’s, he could hear the questions ringing in his ears. He had not planned his rebuttal, only hoped for sympathy.

  Sarah’s face lit when he spotted her peeking out the window, and she bounded for the door. Little Daniel was not far behind her but fell at Enan’s feet, skinning a knee. He wailed and clung to Enan, tears rolling down his face, bringing Ruth. He held out his arms, and she took him to the kitchen to tend the scrape.

  Having Enan all to herself, Sarah was enchanted with her father’s friend. She held her arms around his neck and gave him pecks on his cheek. Enan had never felt more admired and gladly held her to his side. A vision flashed in his mind of cradling in his arms a little girl Sarah’s age but with the likeness of Tirzah. He felt a sudden longing for the life Abraham had. A wife and two children, a livelihood that suited him and kept his family clothed and fed. But this was not his calling, and Enan pushed it from his mind.

  Sitting down to rest his feet, Enan settled in with Abraham. Unable to contain curiosity, Ruth joined them and ignored the preparations for dinner long enough to find out some answers. Abraham had questions, as well, but had to tease her first.

  “It was a fine day today, wasn’t it, Enan?”

  Seeing Abraham’s grin and Ruth’s scowl, Enan caught on and helped Abraham along. “Yes. A very fine day. A good day for fishing, would you agree?”

  “Why yes. That would have been a splendid wa
y to spend the day.”

  Ruth looked from man to the other and then held out her arms. “Oh, stop, both of you. So, what happened with Tirzah?”

  Enan set Sarah beside him and stared into the fire. “I’m going to wait.”

  Abraham frowned, and Ruth sighed.

  Enan chuckled at their disappointment. “I’m sorry, Ruth. It will happen in time, God’s time.”

  Ruth rolled her eyes and gazed upward. “It was Martha. She’ll never think anyone is good enough for her Tirzah.”

  “Now, Ruth.” Abraham put a hand to his mouth to hide a smirk. She was as protective of Enan as he was. “That kind of talk won’t get Enan anywhere. Go on, Enan.”

  Sarah looked at Enan with angel eyes, her long brown hair sliding down her back as she gazed at him. “Did a girl ask you to marry her?”

  They all laughed, and Sarah went to her mother, shyly tucking her head under Ruth’s arm, which led Enan to believe their reaction had embarrassed her, but found out he was wrong when she pulled away from her mother and glared at him.

  His brows shot up in surprise as he watched her march to her bedroom and grab her bag of marbles, knowing they were one of his favorite games to play with her.

  “What is this?”

  Enan looked to Ruth for an answer, but it was Abraham who replied, “I think you have a jealous female on your hands, friend.” He grinned and lit his pipe, eyeing both Enan and Sarah.

  Ruth went over to her daughter, and Enan heard something about being polite to their guest. Sarah stuck out her lip and stared at Enan when she thought he wasn’t looking. Enan cajoled and coaxed her to come over, but she would have nothing to do with him. Finally, he gave up.

  Stretching out his arms overhead, he turned to Abraham. “How is Nethan doing commanding the guards?”

  Abraham took a long drag on his pipe and took his time to answer. “Nethan has become somewhat of a stranger.”

  “How so?” Enan furrowed his brow and crossed his arms across his chest.

  A sigh drifted from Abraham as he offered Enan his pipe.