Captive Heart (Truly Yours Digital Editions) (9 page)

“We haven’t eaten yet,” he told Anticus, his eyes filled with worry. “I’m sorry. It’s late, but I forgot to call for supper.”

“I’m not hungry. Thank you anyway. I think it’s time for me to go home now.”

Cassius strode to the door. “I’ll call for a litter to carry you.”

“No.”

Anticus’s defiant voice stopped Cassius in his tracks. He looked questioningly at his father.

“I will not be carried by slaves.” Adjusting his toga over his shoulder, he told Cassius, “I’ll walk.”

“Over my dead body.”

The two glared at each other, both angry and determined to have their own way. Anticus knew he hadn’t the strength to push his son, but Cassius knew also that he hadn’t the will to truly defy his father should he decide to be stubborn.

Samah tried to soothe the situation. “Perhaps a hired litter.”

Cassius glared at her, and she withdrew into silence.

“A splendid idea,” Anticus agreed.

Rolling his eyes towards the ceiling, Cassius slapped his palms against his thighs. “By the gods!” His glare turned on his father. “So be it. If it will appease your conscience, then by all means pay my slaves to carry you.”

Anticus looked as though he were about to argue, then thought better of the idea. Smiling, he nodded. “Agreed.”

Cassius glanced at his father suspiciously, but chose not to argue further.

He helped Anticus into the litter. “I will come by tomorrow to see you. I leave for Palestine again in a fortnight.”

Shocked, Samah clutched her tunic to her chest. Palestine. Home! Would he take her with him? Hope spiraled in her heart only to be doused at his next statement.

“I’m leaving Sentinel with Samah. The two of you can enjoy long theological discussions together.”

Though Cassius’s voice was laced with sarcasm, Anticus smiled at the idea.

“I would like that. How long will you be gone this time?”

“I don’t know. A band of Jews have barricaded themselves in Herod’s stronghold at Masada. Titus is determined that they shall not defy Rome.”

Anticus nodded. “I know the one. An impregnable fortress.” His eyes took on a decided twinkle. “Another impossible task, Cassius.”

Instead of being offended, Cassius laughed. “We shall see.”

Anticus watched his son intently. “Nothing is impossible for those who believe,” he said softly.

Tilting his head slightly, Cassius regarded his father soberly. There was more to his words than what was on the surface. “I’ll remember that.”

After Anticus departed, Cassius returned to the triclinium. Samah started past the door when he halted her.

“Come inside, and we’ll have something to eat.”

Samah hesitated. “You wish me to bring you something to eat, my lord?”

“No,” he disagreed testily. “I wish for some company.”

Since he had avoided her for some time, Samah could only suppose that this sudden request had to do with what his father had said earlier.

“As you wish.”

Feeling uncomfortable, Samah reclined on one couch while Cassius reclined on the other. His unwavering gaze was unnerving.

Democritus brought them food, his eyebrow lifting when he noticed Samah on the couch. He placed the tray of food on the table before them.

“Is there anything else, my lord?”

“No, Democritus. You may retire for the night.”

Democritus glanced from one to the other. “As you wish, my lord.”

Cassius noticed the color bloom in Samah’s cheeks at his continued regard. Smiling slightly, he tried to put her at ease. He really did want to have her company. She fascinated him, more than any woman ever had. He was intrigued by her acceptance of her fate without any anger or bitterness. The woman positively radiated with joy, and that very light attracted him.

Setting his wine goblet on the table, he asked her, “This God of yours. Why did He let His Son die? And on a Roman cross?”

“I told you. It was necessary for Him to sacrifice His own life so that we all might have life in Him.”

Cassius understood sacrifices. Even the Roman gods received their portion of appeasement.

“From the story you told me, one would wonder why your God would put such a tree in the garden to tempt this Adam and Eve. Without the tree, there would have been no need to sacrifice His Son.”

Samah picked at the fruit in front of her. Why did Cassius want to ask her such things now? Was he truly interested, or was there some ulterior motive? With Titus’s capturing of the Jews, the arena games had begun again in earnest. Was he trying to trap her in some way? Even so, she must use this opportunity wisely.

“God wants us to obey Him freely. All He asks of us is obedience. Had there been no tree, there would have been no choice, and God would have had only a child’s doll to play with.” She dropped the grapes back to the tray and looked at him. “Like Sentinel.”

A leg of chicken halfway to his mouth, Cassius slowly replaced it on the tray. Samah knew by the way his eyes darkened that she had angered him.

“Sentinel was free to go. He chose to stay.”

“And you appreciate that faithfulness. You care for him as most people care for their children. Like God cares for His children. But what of Democritus?”

At his sudden stillness, Samah decided she had spoken too freely.

“Continue,” he demanded softly. “What exactly do you mean?”

Deciding she had gone too far to retreat, she asked him, “Is Democritus free to choose whether he goes or stays?”

“He’s a slave.”

Samah nodded. “Had God not given us the choice, that’s what we all would be. Nothing more than slaves. He didn’t want slaves who served Him out of duty and fear. He wanted children who would serve Him out of love.” She paused. “Sentinel serves you because he loves you. But what of Democritus?”

He looked at her strangely. “What of
you
?”

His soft words had a strange effect on her midsection. She sat up abruptly. “What of me?”

He wiped his hands on a towel then dropped it on the table, never taking his eyes from her. Getting up, he crossed to where she sat, and sat down next to her. He was so close, she could smell the sandalwood fragrance that he liked to use in his bath.

His face was only inches from hers. “If I gave you the choice, would you flee back to the hills of Palestine?”

Turning her face away from his concentrated gaze, she looked at her fingers twisting ineffectually at the tie to her tunic. He placed his hands over hers, stilling them with his warm touch.

“Look at me,” he commanded.

Samah had to force herself to obey.

“Would you leave me and go back to your home? Do you serve out of duty?”

Samah swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in her throat. She licked her dry lips and noticed his gaze focus there.

“What. . .what do you want me to say?”

Though he was known to be a woman hater among his men, Cassius had to admit that the thought was very far from his mind right now. What did he want her to say? That she loved him? That she served because she wanted to please him? But would that be true? It came to him with sudden clarity what she was trying to say about her God. Cassius didn’t want Samah’s obedience because she feared him; he wanted her to truly care.

But if he wanted her to care, what did that say about him? Were his own feelings growing even though he tried to deny them? Or was it something more basic? He was her master, after all, and despite her deformity, she was a beautiful woman.

It had been a long time since he had desired any woman. Now, he found himself thinking about Samah more than he cared to admit. He wanted her, and this frightened him more than anything had in his lifetime. Facing enemies in battle was as nothing in comparison. The thought of having a relationship with a woman, a lasting relationship, left him weak in the knees.

Samah saw the flame of desire leap into his eyes, and she pulled away. For the first time, she became truly afraid of what Cassius might do. She stood suddenly.

Surprised, it took Cassius a moment to realize her intent. He reached swiftly to stop her, but she eluded his grasp.

Samah began to back towards the door. “Do I have a choice?” she asked, her voice hoarse with emotion. “Am I allowed to choose whether I go or stay?”

Cassius rose to his feet. Her words hit him like a dousing of ice water, and his ardor cooled. They stood facing each other, both of them breathing hard.

‘No,” he told her adamantly. “You have no choice.”

“I thought not,” she told him, tears in her eyes. “Then give your hollow commands! I’ll obey, because I must. But for my Lord, I obey because I love Him.”

Turning, she fled from the room.

Cassius stood staring out the bibliotheca window, his mind wandering from subject to subject. The beauty of the garden outside failed to soothe him as it normally did. Whichever way he went in his thoughts, they determinedly returned to Samah.

He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but the feelings he had for her were growing deeper. More complex. She was unlike any woman he had ever known. What was there that made her so different from the others?

Perhaps it was her genuineness. Her smiles were real, her feelings honest. There was no hypocrisy in her anywhere. This was something he had never encountered before. Women were known for their guile.

Before he had suspected even Samah, but now he found himself doubting his original judgment. Was it because his feelings towards his own mother had mellowed in the face of the new information he had received about her? Or was it because of Samah’s own gentle personality?

He had been wrong. So wrong. Guilt settled heavily around him like a shroud.

Democritus tapped at the door. “Master?”

For the first time he could remember, the word grated on Cassius’s nerves. Master. Slave. There was nothing wrong with such an arrangement, was there? Slavery had existed from the beginning of time, even among the Jews.

“What is it, Democritus?” he asked without turning from the window.

“General Trajan is here to see you.”

Cassius felt his stomach knot with apprehension. He hadn’t been able to face Trajan since that night by the river because he wasn’t exactly certain how to act towards him. He just couldn’t bring himself to think of Trajan as his real father.

Cassius sighed. “Bring him in.”

Trajan hesitated at the doorway, uncertain of his welcome. He stood tall and straight, his toga tucked into the crook of his arm. Cassius smiled and moved forward, hand outstretched.

“Come in and have a seat.”

Noticing the scrolls scattered across the desk, Trajan hesitated.

“You’re busy. I can come back another time.”

Cassius shook his head. “No. I was just reading over some old manuscripts. I think I was seeking some form of diversion.”

Trajan studied him. “You need diversion?”

Cassius scraped a hand back through his dark hair and
turned away. Lifting one hand, he twisted the bulla around his neck that had been given him when he was a few days old. Though the charm had remained around his neck since that time, it had done nothing for his peace of mind. “I need something. I think I will go insane if I can’t shut the thoughts out of my head.”

Trajan seated himself beside the desk and picked up a scroll. He looked at Cassius questioningly. “Homer? Not exactly light reading.”

When Cassius turned and leaned his back against the window, the sunlight illuminated his features, revealing the haggardness of his expression. He shrugged, avoiding eye contact with the older man.

“Do you want to talk to me about it, Cassius?” he asked softly.

Cassius stared at him, remembering the times that he had confided in him. For years, Trajan had been his confidant, always there when he needed someone to talk to. But now, he didn’t know what to think.

Trajan sat quietly, not pushing for confidences. He waited until finally Cassius breathed out heavily and dropped into the chair opposite him.

“I don’t know where to begin.”

Still, Trajan waited.

Cassius looked to the ceiling, his teeth grinding together. When he glanced back at Trajan, there was a mixture of hurt and anger in his eyes.

“My mother. All this time I have blamed her for abandoning me.” He grabbed a scroll from the desk and crumpled it in his hand. Throwing it across the room, he glared at Trajan. “And all this time, Anticus knew. All this time, I’ve taken my anger. . .my hatred out on other women.”

Trajan moved the rest of the scrolls on the desk out of harm’s way. His look was full of uncertainty.

“That decision you made on your own.”

Annoyed, Cassius glowered at him. “You think that I don’t know that?” He pushed himself to his feet and returned to the window. He couldn’t look Trajan in the face.

“And then there’s you.”

“What about me?”

Cassius clenched his fists against the windowsill. “I don’t know how to treat you. What to say to you.”

Trajan came and placed a large hand on Cassius’s shoulder. “Cassius,” he scolded lightly. “I am still the same man that you have always known. As I told you before, you have always been a son to me in my heart. Knowing that it is truth only makes me that much prouder. To have sired a son such as you would make any man proud.”

Cassius froze beneath his hand. He turned his head slowly and looked into Trajan’s eyes, and knew he spoke the truth. The love was there for him to see. The frozen spot in Cassius’s soul melted ever so slowly. Turning fully, he forced himself to walk away.

“What is it that’s truly bothering you, Cassius?” The pain from Cassius’s rejection was evident in Trajan’s voice.

“I’m illegitimate. I was never meant to be.”

His choked voice brought Trajan once again to his side. “That’s not true. God meant for you to be, or you wouldn’t exist. Only He has the power to create life.” He paused. “As for the other, many children are illegitimate, and they still have good lives.”

Angry, Cassius faced him. “God! How does it always come back to God? I assume you mean the Jewish God you and my father have spoken of,” he sneered.

“There is no other,” Trajan answered quietly.

Cassius returned to his seat, picking up the stylus used for writing. “You know,” he said, his voice full of doubt, “I’ve never really believed in anything but myself.”

Trajan smiled wryly. “And how does it feel being your own god? Never needing anyone, or anything. Totally self-sufficient.”

Cassius’s face flushed with color at the sarcasm. If only that were true. He turned pleading eyes to his birth father, not really knowing what he wanted to say.

Trajan remained standing near the window. “There is a God, Cassius. And He loves you.”

Cassius’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “How did you come to believe in this God? I assume it was when you were in Palestine.”

Trajan turned his eyes away. “I was in Jerusalem.”

Cassius leaned back in the seat. “Ah, yes. After you left my mother.”

Frowning, Trajan met Cassius’s narrow-eyed gaze with one of his own. “Let’s not return to that subject. I will not continue to apologize for something I was unaware of.” His voice grew soft. “I have repented of my sins, and God has forgiven me. It does no good to relive your mistakes over again.”

“Was it in Jerusalem that you met this other woman you have never been able to forget?”

Trajan paled. “Yes. Well, actually I met her in Samaria.”

“And did you know she was married when you fell in love with her?”

Trajan’s brows wrinkled. “I can’t remember. I knew it shortly thereafter.”

“And is she the one who introduced you to this Jewish God?”

Throwing Cassius a knowing look, Trajan smiled slightly. “Yes, in a manner of speaking. I arrested her husband and brother-in-law. We had a chance to talk.”

“Talk?” Cassius lifted a brow dubiously.

Trajan’s face flushed with anger. “Yes, talk.”

Cassius studied him thoughtfully. “But you wanted more, didn’t you? I can see it in your eyes.”

Trajan remained silent.

“And she taught you about this God of hers?”

“Let’s just say, she pointed the way.”

“And what has this God done for you, Uncle Trajan?” Cassius asked softly, mindless of using the loving title.

Crossing the room, Trajan seated himself across from Cassius once again. His eyes were filled with an intense light.

“Oh, Cassius,” he breathed in wonder. “If only you knew. My soul is finally at peace. Jesus, the Son of God, died so that we might be reconciled with our heavenly Father in eternity. He is one Father who will never let you down.”

Cassius threw the stylus to the table. “He seems to have let Samah down.”

Trajan smiled with understanding. “But things are not always what they seem.” He dropped his gaze to the table. “She reminds me much of Mara.”

“Mara?” Cassius frowned. “That’s what Samah said her aunt’s name is. She told me she has a birthmark on her face that makes others afraid of her.”

Cassius caught Trajan’s eye and knew with sudden certainty that the Maras were one and the same.

“I see,” Cassius said heavily.

Trajan continued to regard him steadily. “I would like to purchase Samah from you.”

Cassius’s face darkened with anger. He rose slowly to his feet, his hands clenched at his sides.

“I thought slavery was wrong. What was it you called it? A sin?”

Trajan pursed his lips, picking up the stylus from the desk and turning it methodically in his fingers. When he glanced at Cassius, Cassius’s eyes narrowed.

“I see. You would free her.” He angrily jerked the stylus from Trajan’s fingers, leaving a slight gash. Seeing the trickle of blood, he burned with shame, but couldn’t bring himself to voice his regret. He went to the door and yelled for Democritus.

“Yes, master?”

“Bring a bandage. The general has cut his finger.”

Looking past Cassius’s shoulder, Democritus saw the slight swelling of blood. Turning, he hastily departed to do as bid.

Cassius returned to the table but didn’t seat himself again. His dark countenance spoke clearly of anger held tightly in check.

Trajan broke into his thoughts.

“I would do more than free her,” he told Cassius calmly. “I would return her home.”

The anger exploded. “I just bet you would. And then you could see her aunt again. Well, let me tell you something. She’s still married.”

Trajan remained unaffected by his outburst. “I didn’t say that I would return her myself. I’m well aware of the temptations involved. Regardless of what you may think, Cassius, I
do
have some scruples.”

They stared at one another for a long minute. Cassius finally spoke with deadly quietness.

“I won’t let her go. She’s mine.”

Opening his mouth to speak, Trajan was interrupted by Democritus.

“Here you are, my lord.”

Trajan took the cloth from the slave and wound it around his finger. He looked at Cassius, wanting to say more.

“Democritus,” Cassius hastily interrupted, “show the general out, please.”

Recognizing the undercurrent of tension flowing between the two, Democritus hurried to obey.

Trajan followed him out the door but then turned back. There was a challenging glint in his eyes.

“I will be praying for you, Cassius. God hasn’t finished with you yet.”

His prophetic words hung in the air long after he was gone.

❧

Samah knelt beside the small rabbit and loosened the snare from its leg. She could feel its little body shivering beneath her carefully exploring fingers.

The animal was in shock, that was obvious. Its huge black eyes stared vacantly in Samah’s general direction.

“It’s all right,” she soothed quietly. “It will be all right now.”

She continued to stroke its downy fur until its heaving sides quieted somewhat and its eyes began to focus once again. She watched its twitching nose, wrinkling her own in return.

Placing it on the ground, she patted its furry backside.

“Go on. Go home.”

“What are you doing there?”

The wrathful voice brought Samah whirling to face the intruder.

A large man stood beside a small cart, a whip dangling from his fingers. His eyes sparkled menacingly. Inside the cart lay the corpses of several small animals, and she realized that the snare must belong to him. Swallowing hard, she faced him unflinchingly.

He moved purposefully towards her. When he drew abreast of her, he allowed his gaze to slide over her. The angry sparkle in his eyes was replaced with something much more ominous. It was then that Samah remembered that Sentinel was not with her. Cassius had taken him along when he went to the forum to hear one of the senators speak, and he had cautioned Samah to stay close to the villa. But it had been such a beautiful day, and she had wandered much farther than she had intended. The green hills surrounding Rome had beckoned her onward, and she had left the city far behind.

The man standing before her smiled lecherously, his black
ened teeth causing her stomach to lurch. Ragged clothes hung from his portly frame, and his foul breath so close to her face caused her to hastily step backwards.

He reached out a hand to steady her, but she slapped it away.

“Don’t touch me.”

The smile dropped from his face. He looked her over once again before demanding, “Do you know what I could do to you for stealing from my traps?”

Samah regarded him steadily, though her nerve was fast fleeing.