Palace of Darkness (37 page)

She should have been more wary. They had entered the narrow pass and were traveling in a single column when the first marauder
came screaming from a small cave, a sword held aloft as he ran. The rest of them flooded in, surrounding the group in a moment.

Cassia’s heart quailed at the screams and she spun back into the group of soldiers.

The ten of them clustered at once in an organized defense, evidence of their training, and brandished weapons.

Cassia watched in horror as the bandits and soldiers engaged. The thieves would have little interest in her during the battle, but they would not leave her unhurt if she was without the protection of the soldiers.

The Romans had the immediate advantage of being mounted and used it fully. She watched, shaking in the saddle, as Decimus hacked and thrust at the attackers. Her horse whinnied and pawed the ground, and she tried to keep the mare steady in the center of the circle while watching the battle that swarmed around her.

And then as she watched, a startling thing became evident. The bandits were not going after the men, trying to steal whatever they had on their horses or their persons. They were trying to get
past
the men, to the center of their circle.

To her.

The soldiers seemed to realize this at the moment she did, for she had only a moment or two of panic before they tightened around her in obvious protection.

“Hold, Cassia!” Decimus yelled, as though she had the notion to go running off alone.

Though grateful for their protection, her heart pounded and she struggled to breathe. Had the attackers thought she would return alone? Had they waited in the caves for her to approach, then attacked before they realized how well protected she was?

Clearly they weren’t prepared for the
contubernium
. Decimus and
the others slashed and stabbed, and the attackers fell in turn, bloody and lifeless in the sand.

It all happened so quickly, and yet time stretched out as she saw each one fall, saw necks sliced open and chests mauled by a Roman
gladius
. Watched as one fell with his face hitting the sand first, and another drop to his knees and clutch his chest before slumping to the ground.

And then there was only one. The man looked around and saw he was alone—and clearly thought better of his intentions. His gaze roved the group of her protectors, his face filled with indecision and then fear, then he dropped his weapon and fled toward the end of the pass.

Decimus said nothing but flicked his head in the direction of the fleeing man. Two of the soldiers kicked their horses and took off after him.

Decimus urged his horse forward until its head matched Cassia’s mount. “Are you hurt?” His tone had little of concern and more of a leader taking stock of his men after a battle.

“They were after me.” Her voice shook.

“Sent by your queen?”

Cassia huffed. “She is not my queen.”

He examined his men. There were a few injuries, but those not serious. They waited in the pass for the two sent ahead to return. When they did, their faces spoke for them. Cassia read anger and frustration—the last of the queen’s men had eluded them.

“That cursed gorge,” the one in front called. “It’s as full of people as the Forum on market day.”

“He disappeared into the rest of the Arabs.” The other drew alongside his partner. “And they all look alike.”

Humorous as it was coming from these Romans, all pressed from the same mold, Cassia could not laugh. “He will tell the queen I am not alone.”

Decimus scowled. “If she is alerted, we will be unable to find our way into the palace unseen.” He seemed to debate a moment, watching the end of the pass that led to the Siq. “We will return to camp. Give Corvinus this information. Wait for his decision.”

“No!” Cassia pulled her horse to face his. “We cannot turn back. The Festival of Grain begins tonight!”

Decimus shook his head. “It is a failed mission. We must regroup and plan another.”

The ten men circled and started back at full gallop. Cassia hesitated, torn between her need for their help and protection and her desperation to return before anything happened to Alexander.

But what could she do alone?

I will never leave you or forsake you.

She kicked her horse into a run but did not catch up with the soldiers until they reached the Roman encampment.

They were in the commander’s tent within minutes, and he had the full report from Decimus soon after.

Corvinus spoke when Decimus finished. “If we go in now, we are expected.”

Cassia had hovered at the edge of the group, but now she pushed forward. “We must go in now!”

Corvinus considered her, then his men. “If we do this thing today, it must be with more men, and with the troops at the ready here in camp. Their defenses will be prepared, and we must be ready to engage in full.”

“Then do that!” Cassia knew her voice sounded ragged and tearful, but she did not care. “We have only a few hours before the sun is down and Hagiru will sacrifice my boy!” She gripped Corvinus’s arm. “Have mercy, Commander.”

He patted her hand. “We will get ready as quickly as we can.
There is good strategy in going in during a holiday anyway, but it will take some time. You must be patient.”

Cassia nodded, grateful. But as the afternoon wore on and still Corvinus would not send out the troops, the separation from Alexander grew impossible.

So ignoring the commander’s warning that she acted foolishly, as the sun started its descent in the late-afternoon sky, Cassia saddled her horse, swung herself onto it, and turned it toward Petra.

She knew not whether the Romans would arrive in time, but she would be there.

And when darkness fell on the High Place, Cassia would face Hagiru with God alone if that’s what it took to save her son.

FORTY-TWO

C
ASSIA BROUGHT THE HORSE ALL THE WAY THROUGH THE
city. It might draw attention, but hiding had done nothing. Hagiru’s people must be everywhere, reporting on her actions and those of her friends.

Friends.

This was where the horse took her, to her friends, though she slipped from its saddle and used the lead rope when she reached the housing district. She wandered the streets slowly to judge whether anyone followed.

When she believed herself alone, she directed her steps to Malik’s house.

Would Julian be there? She had not seen him as she passed the tomb work site, though it was a holiday and the site would have gone quiet hours earlier.

Cassia thought back over her encounter with Jesus in the palace cell, her new seedling of faith in Julian’s Savior. She longed to tell him of it, and to heal the wounds between them.

The servant Shamir met her at the door and embraced her as
though she had come back from the dead. “We did not know what had become of you.” He took the horse’s rope. “Everyone will be relieved.” He inclined his head toward the courtyard.

“They are here?”

He nodded. “The whole family, or almost. Still a few work in the palace, to watch over Alexander.”

Cassia fought back the rising emotion.

“Go,” Shamir said. “They will rejoice to see you.”

Not all of them, perhaps.
Julian’s words and his face the last time she had seen him left her unsure what he would feel at her return.

She walked slowly to the courtyard, hearing Malik’s voice as she drew closer. He was teaching from Paul’s letter to the church in Rome, Julian’s favorite. His teaching seemed strengthened in some way, more passionate, more alive. What had happened to fire his voice in such a way?

She rounded the corner, coming upon the group in the verdant courtyard with their backs to her, ranged on benches and the floor with their faces upturned to hear their teacher.

Julian!

She watched in wonder as Julian’s voice carried to her on waves of power. He did not see her there, so caught up was he with the truth of what he taught.

“Do you see, my friends, there is now no condemnation to those in Christ Jesus, who walk not according to the flesh, but according to the Spirit? For Christ Jesus sets us free from the law of sin and death! The law is not able to do this, but God sent His own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh, that the righteousness of the law may be fulfilled in us!”

She searched the room for Malik, concerned for a moment that something had happened to him, but he was there, along the back wall, his face glowing with the warm pride of a father.

She turned her eyes back to Julian, and his words poured forth and seemed to come from heaven itself. His face glowed with passion, and his dark eyes shone so bright she could feel their heat from across the courtyard.

His words spun a cocoon of silk around her, leaving her breathless with the living, shining truth of what he spoke. And then those blazing eyes turned on her and widened. He paused, midsentence.

As one, the group followed his attention to the back of the room, and though Cassia could not take her eyes from Julian, she heard her name called out by a dozen voices and felt the surge of brothers and sisters scrambling to their feet and pressing toward her with much embracing. The crowd grew thick around her, and she lost view of Julian, who had still been standing at the front with a pleased but remote smile.

So many questions. They all wanted to know how she had gotten free of the palace. When she mentioned to Zeta that she had escaped the day before, a ripple of shock went through the group.

“Where have you been then, girl?” Zeta asked.

“I spent the night in the Roman encampment.”

The declaration silenced the room as though a death shroud had fallen upon them, and then it erupted again in a burst of more questions and consternation.

Cassia answered their questions distractedly, still trying to catch a glimpse of Julian. Was he still there, listening? Had he left already, not wanting to be in the same room with her?

At last the questions quieted, and Malik pushed into the group and put his arm around her waist. “Let’s give Cassia some time to rest.” He led her from the courtyard, into the front hall of his home. Cassia allowed him to remove her because the questions and attention had begun to make her head swim, though she had no intention of resting. Not with Alexander still in the palace.

“In here.” Malik extended a hand through a wide doorway. “Some privacy.”

The room was a luxurious bedchamber, larger than the home she had shared with Aretas. “I cannot sleep, Malik.” She turned to the older man.

He patted her cheek. “Perhaps not. But you can prepare. We have reached the final moments of this battle.”

She nodded, fighting down the wash of useless emotion.

He tilted his head, as if to examine her. “Something has changed. You are different.”

She smiled, her eyes misty. “I have met your Jesus.”

He gripped her hands and his face grew somber. “He is your Jesus now, Cassia.” It did not surprise her that Malik somehow knew all that had transpired in her heart.

“Julian has changed as well.” She searched for words to describe what she had seen.

Malik bowed his head and squeezed her fingers. “We are all changed, Cassia. All of us changed because of your coming to Petra. And this night, this night God will show Himself mighty here through us.”

Her heart tripped over itself at Malik’s words. “Through me as well?” She waited, afraid he would say yes, then afraid he would say no.

He bent to kiss the top of her head. “It is only the beginning. But first”—he turned his face toward the door, where Julian stood, his hands on the door frame—“first you must make things right.”

Julian stood aside to let Malik slip from the room, then brought his attention back to Cassia.

Words failed her, and she felt herself blush under his steady eyes. He did not smile, but neither did he scowl. Cassia could not read his emotions. It was almost as if he felt nothing at all. The idea made her tremble. The days without his friendship had made her realize how important it was to her.

“Julian . . .” She searched for a way to begin, came up with nothing, and fell to silence once more, wondering why he only stood there watching her and did not speak. He still had that fiery look about him, and it seemed he had gained both height and years since she had seen him last.

“Julian, I am sorry.”

He smiled and finally spoke, coming into the room. “There is no need.”

“Oh, but there is.” She took a step toward him, then another, but then backed away again. “I . . . I treated you very badly, said things—”

Julian held up a hand and shook his head. “We do not need to speak of it. It is behind us now, and it matters little.”

“It is important to me!
You
are important to me. I value your friendship, and I cannot bear the thought—”

He drew close to her, but for all his fiery teaching, she felt little warmth from him. It was as though he were one of his sculptures. “You have my friendship, Cassia. And my respect.”

She searched his eyes for some sign of more. “I want you to know that those things I said—”

Again, he held up a hand. “Please, Cassia. There is no need to speak of it again.”