The Patrician Page 19

  She snapped her head back around, her heartbeat roaring in her ears. Her hands, palms moist with anxiety, began to tremble. These past weeks of a warm bed and good food had lulled her into forgetting about the dangers that she and Jared faced. She swallowed past the closing of her throat. She was such a fool.

  “There is a substantial reward for their return. Especially for the male,” Baal said impatiently. “My master wants his property returned.”

  The jeweler’s interest perked at that and he began asking questions about the runaway slaves. Bryna strained to hear, but the two began to talk rapidly. She could not understand more than a word or two, and those words, branding and collars, sent a hard chill through her.

  Jared would know what to do. Oh, gods, she needed him. She started to slide past the jeweler’s stall to find Aea. But Baal had positioned himself between the two stalls, his hands on his hips as he scanned the crowded marketplace. She would not be able to get past him without brushing against him, which was repulsive in its own right. The only option was to navigate along the narrow space separating the stalls from the brick walls of the more substantial dwellings of the forum.

  Holding the ends of her veil tightly beneath her chin, she slipped behind the jeweler’s and headed to the end of the row, a mere six booths down. But at the fifth booth, her way was blocked by a sizeable pig who squealed loudly, protesting the interruption of what would probably be its last meal before landing on a platter. The owner of the nasty animal started shouting at her, gesturing for her to be gone. Bryna responded with a frown. Baal had surely moved on.

  She retraced her steps and saw the overseer searching up and down the spaces on either side of the market. The sound of the frightened swine brought his attention fully in her direction. Wrapping the veil almost completely over her face, she walked in his direction then dashed between two stalls and out into the market.

  The crowd swarmed around her as she tried to determine the quickest route back to Aea’s shop. Glancing toward the jeweler’s booth, she saw Baal emerge, squinting against the bright sun.

  Bryna did not take time to think, but dashed across the marketplace, keeping her head low and weaving between irate shoppers. Reaching the temple side, she glanced over her shoulder. Before she could breathe a sigh of relief, she spotted Baal shouldering his way toward her.

  In truth, she did not think he had recognized her, but her movements had certainly aroused his suspicions. If she headed across the temple, he was sure to spot her and he would find out her identity quick enough. Walking out into the crowd was out of the question. She squeezed her eyes shut, whispered a prayer to every one of her gods.

  Opening her eyes, she spotted a gap between two buildings. Without a backward glance, she ducked into the narrow alleyway.

  The walkway ended at a stone wall, Baal’s dark outline blocking the entry to the alley. Bryna’s heart sank. They could do what they may, but she would not betray Jared. The sound of an argument drifted into the alley. She tracked the source to a single doorway standing ajar. Keeping one eye on Baal, she slipped into the opening.

  It took her a moment to adjust her vision to the smoky dimness of the room. It smelled strongly of sour wine. There was a long wooden shelf built along one wall, behind which stood an unkempt man with a puckered scar where one eye should be. Several crude tables with warped benches filled the central space. On these benches sat an assortment of ruffians, their faces pinched and pale with dark circles painted beneath red rimmed eyes accustomed to long days of drinking with too little sunlight.

  Bryna clutched her veil like a shield, though it did little to dissuade the speculative leers sent her way. Behind her, the door she had entered was kicked closed by a small man no taller than her hip. He smiled lopsidedly at her, a large droplet of spittle hanging from the drooping side of his mouth.

  “Well, look here fellows,” drawled a scrawny man from a corner table. He had no more than three wisps of gray hair poking out of his head and fewer teeth. “Look what has wandered into Milo’s fine establishment.”

  “Perhaps it is a gift from the goddess Ceres in return for the reverence the good people of our noble town have shown today,” offered another miscreant across the room. The men broke into riotous laughter. A thin girl, locked in the scrawny man’s arms, sent her a look filled with pity.

  “I was first to see her,” cried another, “So I shall open the gift.”

  Bile rose in Bryna’s throat.

  “This gift,” drawled a deep voice “belongs to me.”

  Her eyes went round. How could it be? She turned to the entry and released a breath of relief at the sight of Jared standing in all of his arrogance, just inside the doorway. Three thoughts sprang into Bryna’s mind—Baal had not found him, he had not abandoned her and he was magnificent. Locking onto her gaze and holding it, he strolled over to her, circled a possessive arm around her waist and pulled her into a protective hold against him.

  “Is she your slave?” growled Milos. “She don’t appear to be from these parts.” The group of men glared menacingly at them.

  Jared caressed her shoulder lightly. Bryna tensed and the pressure from his hand increased imperceptibly. “Slave?” he repeated, pausing as if to ponder the implication. “No, kind sirs, rather I am a slave to her heart. You see, this is my betrothed.” He ignored her sharp intake of breath. “Our families do not approve of our union and so we have run away to marry. My lovely bride became lost from me in the midst of the busy market. I am grateful you have kept her safe.”

  The taverna owner edged out from behind the shelf, suspicion glittering within his blood shot eyes. “On your way to be wed, eh?” he said rubbing his chin thoughtfully. He studied the both of them, lingering on Bryna’s unadorned head.

  “We beg your pardon, but we must be on our way,” said Jared amiably, steering her by the elbow toward the door.

  “And where might you be going?” asked the scrawny man. He had slipped from his bench and stood blocking the exit, a wicked looking knife in his hand. The dwarf joined him, his mouth contorted into a grotesque smile. Bryna stared at the damp trail on the front of his tunic.

  She dared a look at Jared. His smile was tight.

  “Why, to find a rabbi to perform the marriage ceremony. You see, we are of the Hebrew faith.” He nudged her toward the door. The dwarf shuffled in front of it.

  “No need for that,” replied the proprietor, a feral grin skewing his thick lips. “Jacob here is a Jewish holy man. He can marry you. Now.” All eyes fell to a lump of dusty black robes, draped over the center table. The lump grumbled as one of the patrons kicked him awake, his bleary eyes widening at the whispered explanation for his arousing.

  There was a collective undertone of snickering accompanying Milos proclamation. Bryna’s eyes darted up to the hard planes of Jared’s face. His expression was bland, but his eyes were alert and on guard.

  “We would be most grateful if the good rabbi could join us in marriage,” he answered pleasantly.

  Bryna’s mouth fell open. This was not her idea of escaping. Pretending to be married was one thing, but to let someone actually perform a ceremony. . .

  She tried to jerk free but Jared tightened his grip. “I will not marry you!” she hissed beneath her breath.

  Instead, he drew her closer, bending down as though to nuzzle her ear. “Be quiet! There is no other way out without bringing unwanted attention to our identities. They have their doubts already and if any of them can read, they may put it together that we are the two runaway slaves described on the notices posted all over town!”

  Bryna lowered her eyes to the piece of crumpled parchment he pulled from his belt. She could not read the words, but she knew he spoke the truth.

  Terror filled her heart. She didn’t know what scared her more, being found out or being bound by vows to the most arrogant man on earth. Jared pulled her veil over her head and with a firm hand, guided her over to stand in front of the drunken priest.

  She st
ood numbly next to him, watched the rabbi wobble as he intoned strange words binding them together. Jared answered in the same tongue, his voice calm and even, yet tinted with a hard edge of anger. He whispered her answers to the rabbi’s prayers in her ear, and she found herself repeating them, oblivious to the raised eyebrows of the witnesses.

  “May the God of our fathers bless you with long life, wealth and the blessing of many children,” the rabbi slurred in Latin. Satisfied that he had remembered the entire ceremony, he trudged back to his table and promptly fell asleep.

  Jared turned her toward him. His gaze softened for the briefest moment. Drawing her to him, he pressed his mouth to hers. Her lips parted hesitantly at the first, then opened up to welcome the taste of him. She was vaguely aware of the raucous cry of approval rising from the group.

  Jared stepped back, though his hand lingered on her arm. It unnerved her how safe she felt in his embrace.

  “Our thanks,” said Jared, lacing his fingers through hers. Bryna followed him to the entryway that was now clear. He eased the warped door open and peered into the alley.

  “Baal is out there,” she whispered.

  “I know,” he muttered, “I nearly ran into him looking for you.”

  “What is this?” Everyone gave their attention to the timid serving girl. She held the crumpled piece of parchment notice in her hand, studied them, studied the parchment. “This notice offers a fat reward for the return of two runaway slaves. One a Hebrew male, the other—” She gaped at Bryna. “—a barbarian girl.”

  “You would pick the only taverna in this town with a serving girl who reads,” he muttered.

  In the span of time it took the words to sink into the drunken rabble, Jared tightened his hold on her arm and sprinted out the door. A loud roar streamed behind them as the patrons stumbled out of the taverna, eager to make the capture and claim the reward.

  Bryna held onto Jared’s hand as tightly as he held onto hers as they raced down the alley and exploded into the throng of market goers. Most people gave way, others were jostled in their flight, waving clenched fists and throwing curses after them. Bryna could hear cries of runaway slaves and calls for their capture. She didn’t dare search the crowd for Baal.

  A painful hitch caught in her side and her breathing dissolved into short gasps. It was taking twice as much effort for her to match Jared’s long strides and clearly he was holding back. Oh gods, he should go on without her. She tried to release her hand, but he gripped it tighter, dodging a cart filled with melons as he made for the gated entry of the town.

  Bryna could feel the danger stalking them. The whole town would soon be alerted to their presence. If they could not get through the gate, their fate would be sealed. Abruptly, Jared slowed and released her hand. She bent over in a useless attempt to catch her breath eyes squeezed shut, unable to imagine the consequences of their capture.

  “Quick! Jump up!”

  Her eyes flew open. Jared was mounted on the back of a decrepit horse, its coat molting from lack of care, its ribs scored against thin, gray skin. It was tethered to a wooden post, but no one cried out at its theft.

  She gave him a look of disbelief.

  “Are you mad? This poor nag will lead the authorities straight to us! They’ll find us sitting atop a dead carcass!”

  “Don’t you ever stop arguing?” he replied. With swift, easy grace, he leaned over and pulled her up in front of him.

  Bryna gasped as he spurred the horse through the portal. With surprising agility, the sorry equine followed Jared’s direction and sped out onto the road. Bryna dared a glance back to see a handful of frustrated citizens—and an angry Baal— shaking their fists at their retreating figures.

  Chapter Sixteen

  What their mount lacked in looks was more than made up in stamina. Every bone in Bryna’s body rattled and her muscles screamed from the bruising pace. The only thing keeping her in one piece was Jared’s strong arms holding her against the rock hard wall of his chest. Not an unpleasant place to be, given they were fleeing for their lives.

  They had been riding for two days, stopping only long enough to rest the horse, scrounge for food and catch short naps. Jared had been quiet the entire time, doing little more than giving short, curt answers to her questions or grunting noncommittally. The few times she’d tried to talk he cut her off, admonishing her to be quiet, then tightened his arms around her and rode on in stony silence. The arrogant demon had returned.

  Bryna shifted forward away from the warmth of his chest, tried to ease the ache in her heart. She had actually begun to think that Jared might be human after all and wondered if the gentle man who had held her so tenderly, who had heated her blood with his touch had ever existed. Where was the man of her vision? She set her mouth in a tight line. Well, she wouldn’t be deceived again.

  Jared slowed the horse to a walk before guiding it toward a stagnant pond not far off the road. Holding the ropes loosely in one hand, he lifted himself off the horse’s back and slid to the ground. Before she could do likewise he reached up, circled his hands around her waist and lifted her off. She tried to read his eyes, but he released her as if she were on fire and spun on his heel to lead the horse to the water.

  Her patience had reached its limit. Bunching her hands into fists, she followed him. “Why are you angry?”

  He didn’t even look at her, just started caring for the animal. “I’m not angry,” he answered curtly.

  Bryna stumbled on a loose stone but caught up to him. “You are. I can tell well enough.”

  The look he sent her was potent with the anger he denied. “And how is that? With more of your special powers?” he sneered. Reaching down he began to scoop handfuls of water over the horse’s flanks.

  Bryna crossed her arms and answered sweetly. “Oh, that and the fact that you’re nearly skinning the poor animal with your care.” As if in agreement, the horse whinnied in protest and shied away. Jared pulled him gently by the rope and whispered soothing words into the animal’s ear. The horse quieted and began to nibble at a patch of tender, green grass. Jared continued to ignore her. He loosely tied the lead to a sapling and crouched at the water’s edge, swept away the algae and began to drink.

  And he thought her stubborn. “I do not understand why you are upset. I was coming to warn you...”

  He shot straight up and pinned her with a glare. “Which you would not have had to do had you obeyed me and stayed at the shop.”

  Her mouth fell open even as guilt pricked at her. “If I had not been in the market, then we would not have known that Baal was there searching for us.”

  Jared turned away from her, his expression one of disgust. “Believe me, we would have known. Your devoted admirer Lito brought soldiers and two very determined bounty hunters to the bake shop. I barely made it out in one piece.”

  Bryna felt the blood drain from her face. “The order was too large for Aea to handle by herself. Cicero was not able and Lito was nowhere to be found...” Her voice trailed off as it was obvious where the adolescent had been. She straightened her shoulders. “My leaving did not bring the soldiers to the shop.”

  Jared moved to stand in front of her. “No, but because you were not there, I had to search for you, wasting precious time.”

  A different emotion flashed behind the hard brightness of his eyes. Fear? Worry? She reached out with her gift which as usual refused to show her any insight. “You searched for me?”

  “I did,” he answered, inching a bit closer.

  A warm spot opened inside Bryna. He could have fled, been safely away from the town, from the soldiers, the bounty hunters, but instead had risked his own safety to find her.

  “You are, after all, the link to my betrayers.”

  She went cold. How ridiculous for her to think otherwise. “Of course,” she replied stiffly. “I understand.” She started to walk away but he caught her by the shoulders, forced her to look at him.

  “No, you do not understand. Thanks to your f
alling into the midst of the largest pond of scum in the Empire, I now have a wife. As if my life didn’t already have enough burdens.”

  Bryna tamped down the hurt that flared in her heart, narrowed her eyes at him. “I am not your wife therefore I am no one’s responsibility but my own.”

  A sneer played around the edges of his mouth, his mocking tone driving the hurt that much deeper. “Oh, but you are. Surely you have not already forgotten your own wedding, your sweet vows of fidelity, honor and love?”

  “I spoke no such words.”

  Jared smiled tightly. “You did. In poorly pronounced Aramic, but you did.”

  A wave of disbelief chilled her insides. “You know very well that ceremony was done to keep those thugs from doing us harm. It is not a true marriage.”

  “A Hebrew priest married us,” he answered evenly.

  “A drunken wretch,” she replied. Her rising panic caused her voice to quiver.

  “He wore the robes of a rabbi. A teacher and priest of my people.”

  Bryna counted slowly to calm her temper. “It was a ruse, a way to escape...” She paused feeling nearly hysterical at the deadly serious look he sent her. “You cannot think to hold me to those vows!”

  “It was a vow made before the God of Abraham, the God of my mother’s people. It is a sacred covenant”

  “Why?”

  “Why?” he repeated.

  “Why is this vow so important to you? Will your God strike you down should you be honest and thank him for the shield of his name?”

  A wave of emotions streamed from him, flooding her senses. She gazed into his stormy expression and knew that his honor would not allow him any other choice.

  As if he knew her insight, he shuttered his eyes. “It is enough that I will keep the vow.”

  A thousand objections to his stubborn declaration clashed within her mind. But she was so outraged, so incensed, that she could give voice to not one of the arguments. She pushed against his arms, surprised when he released her and moved away.