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The Philistine’s gaze dropped to the purse resting against Nicolaus’s hip as if he could judge the amount hidden within the leather bag, and then buried his nose against the young woman’s face. “She is clean.” At least that is what Nicolaus thought he’d said. The man’s dialect was thick and heavy as if he’d had too much wine. Of course, Nicolaus was not as familiar with the language of these people as he should be. “Three hundred pieces of silver, a hundred omers of barley and ten casks of your oil.”
The game of bargaining was well known to Nicolaus. His father was among the finest merchants. Resisting the urge to weigh his purse in the palm of his hand, Nicolaus raised his eyebrows as he perused the young woman. He leaned toward Xandros, who spoke the language well. “Tell him there are many women in Greece who are clean and without such—” he made a motion with his hands as he glanced toward the woman “—curves.”
Her lips parted with a soft gasp, and her dark eyes flamed with anger as Xandros repeated his words.
“A hundred pieces of silver. Twenty omers of barley and two casks of olive oil.” Nicolaus crossed his arms over his chest and waited, a tactic he had often used when negotiating with adversaries. After a few moments of silence he turned on his heel to leave.
“A moment.” The Philistine’s words halted him. Nicolaus glanced over his shoulder. The young woman narrowed her gaze toward a spot in the crowd. Following the direction of her angered glare, he saw several young women pointing toward the platform. They seemed to be arguing with the oldest among them. Who were they? Rivals? Had this young woman stolen the affection of a man from them? Possible, but given how similar the one wearing the gold band looked to the woman being auctioned, he wondered if they were of some relation. Cousins, sisters perhaps?
“We have not all day,” Nicolaus said as he turned his attention back to the Philistine. “You have no other bidders vying for this woman.” He flicked a glance toward the first bidder. “None willing to pay what I am. Two hundred pieces of silver and one cask of oil. It is a fair price and more than the piece of jewelry you traded her for.”
It did not take much to discern the trade, not when the one woman guarded the ornament with a raised brow and a smirk, and so he opted for his original bid of silver in an effort to halt all haggling. After dealing with the Philistine merchants in Ashkelon most of the day, he was done and ready to set his oars to the water. He was ready to return to his island home in Greece.
A low growl emitted from the Philistine. The hand grasping the woman’s hair shook, pulling her hair if the signs of discomfort forming around her mouth and the lone tear were any indication. It took all of Nicolaus’s will not to jump onto the platform and release the woman. The Sea Dragon would have and he was certain he would have, too, if the auctioneer had not conceded with a nod.
Nicolaus untied his purse, counted out the coins and handed them to Xandros. “See to it she is on the ship posthaste. We must leave before the storm comes in. Brison will fetch the oil.”
He pushed his way through the crowd and toward the group of women he’d seen the slave glaring at. Standing before them, he took in their various features from exotic to plain. The oldest, bearing the intricate gold band with colorful stones around her arm, wore a veil over one shoulder. If it had not been sitting haphazard, Nicolaus would not have thought it out of place. However, the color and the weave seemed more suitable to the woman he hoped Xandros was securing. It also seemed to match the color of the slave’s tunic.
“Your name?”
The woman lowered her eyes, her dark lashes brushing against her tanned cheeks. He wondered again if this woman was sister to the slave, the shape of their eyes, the slant of their mouths when they scowled were similar. However, the slave was much more beautiful. This woman’s hair, cropped at her shoulders, was near the color of the sky the moment right before the night cloaked them in total darkness. The slave’s hair, the color of wheat just as the sun begins to slip beyond the horizon, hung down her back in gilded waves. Her skin was much fairer, not as dark as the woman before him. This woman bore the lines of displeasure, sadness and spite, not those of a woman who’d known the love of family.
“Dina.”
He pulled out a decent gold coin and flipped it between his fingers. Her greedy eyes followed the movement as she licked her lips as if starving for a meal. “I would purchase this from you.” He touched the gold band. Although the stones glittered, the craftsmanship was not to be praised. It certainly was not worth the two pieces of silver the procurer used in his quest to acquire the slave, nor was it worth the gold coin Nicolaus offered her. He did not appreciate the way the band seemed to cause this woman to gloat, as if she’d been given a king’s ransom. It did not seem fitting to leave her adorned with it.
Dina reached for the coin but Nicolaus pulled his hand back. “The band.” The woman glanced at her companions before tugging the gold piece from her arm and dropping it into his palm. “What of the veil?” he added.
Dina touched her fingers to the piece of fabric and began to pull it from her shoulder. One of the other women laid a hand on her arm. “Dina, you cannot. What of Father?”
“Shhh, I will deal with him.” Her eyes narrowed to slits as she thrust the fabric at him. Had these women sold their father’s slave without his knowledge? His kin? For what cause?
Taking the veil, he handed it to the one who spoke. “Give this to your father if you must. Inform him she will be well cared for.” He glanced at Dina and held the coin toward her. “As for you, my dear woman, riches are not everything.”
She pinched it with her fingers, but he held on. Dina tilted her head as if to consider his words. Her gaze flitted to the bands on his arms and then to the clasp on his shoulder. The corner of her mouth curved upward. “It is obvious from your dress, good sir, that you have never been in want. Never wandered the desert smelling of sheep.”
The woman could not be further from the truth. However, the wind pushing at his back reminded him time was short. “I hope your conscience can bear the guilt of your greed.”
Did she understand the words he’d spoken in Greek? He could not tell, nor did he wait to determine her reaction. He turned toward the quay where his ship was tethered. The storm continued to cling to the horizon, but it would not do so much longer. It was time to leave Ashkelon and her heathenistic ways. He had a race to finish if he was to beat his Jasen, his twin brother, at their father’s game. The prize—the ship and all merchandise aboard when they arrived home. His latest purchase only increased the stakes and sent a wave of urgency rushing through his blood.
He caught sight of Xandros’s wide shoulders and the woman he tugged through the crowd. They were nearing the gates leading toward walkway that led to the ship when they stopped. The clenching of Xandros’s jaw told Nicolaus all he needed to know. The woman refused to go any farther. Nicolaus pushed through the throngs of seafarers preparing to leave port until he reached his friend and the woman slave. Without a second thought he tossed her over his shoulder. Her bound fists thumped against his back causing him to smile.
He’d misjudged her size. She was much smaller than he had first believed, even if she did have curves, but curves would not help his mother with household chores, and her small stature would not be valuable to tending the vineyards. He would think on what position she would take in his mother’s household as they traveled home. It was a shame he was not looking for a wife. He could imagine waking up to her beautiful, expressive eyes each morning. The warmth of her snuggled against him as he smoothed her hair behind the cup of her ear.
“Come, Xandros. Let us go home. I have a sudden urgency to win the race.” For the first time in months, the burden of guilt began to lift from his shoulders and a smile formed. The air flowing to and from his lungs seemed freer. Perhaps, he could be redeemed. After all, if he could rescue one small maiden, perhaps there was hope to rescue more, including his own sister.
“It’s good to see your competitiveness come back, Nicolaus. I had lost hope,” Xandros called from behind him.
“As had I, Xandros, as had I.” He stepped over the rail and jumped down onto the deck before turning toward his friend. “That bit of haggling with the Philistine.” He puffed out his chest and smiled. A genuine smile, one that encompassed his entire being as freedom washed over him. Even the small fists—a swift reminder of purchasing a human, something he’d promised he’d never do—pounding against his back couldn’t penetrate the first bit of happiness he’d felt in months. “And a prime purchase will do that to a man.”
The fists beating his back halted. The woman stilled. Nicolaus slackened his hold until her toes touched the planks. The top of her head did not even reach his shoulders. She titled her head back. Her mouth scrunched into a scowl. Her eyes narrowed. Had she understood him? Did this Philistine woman understand his language?
“Do you speak Ionian?” he asked in his own language.
A shadow flickered through her eyes as her brows pulled together.
“Perhaps you paid too much for her,” Xandros spoke in her language.
“Perhaps I did.”
Before he realized what she was about, she swung her bound hands, clouting him against the jaw as she stomped her heel down on his foot. Nicolaus grabbed her hands before she could hit him again. Xandros doubled over in laughter. “I would have paid thrice the amount if I would have known she would clout you, my friend.”
Ay, Nicolaus would have paid ten times. Mayhap even more. She had too much fire to be wasted on the likes of Ashkelon’s wickedness. A fire that seemed to banish all his horrid memories and dare him to breathe again.
“The merchandise is all aboard and secured.” Brison, his youngest brother and the man—if one could call seventeen summers a man—he’d placed in charge of their merchandise stood eager to please.
“All save one.” Nicolaus nodded toward the slave as he loosened his fingers around her upper arm. Her anger vibrated through his fingertips, softening his own anger at her poor treatment. What was it about this woman that threatened to banish months of guilt and anguish from his thoughts?
Brison’s mouth fell open, gaping as if confused. Xandros stepped closer as if to protect the young woman from Nicolaus’s wrath, a wrath that was not geared toward her. But what shocked and filled Nicolaus with a sense of pride was the way his young brother straightened his shoulders as if to protect her, too. He glanced down at the little damsel. Her eyes glittered like the amber jewels he’d seen in Ashkelon’s temple honoring one of Greece’s goddesses, and he had the urge to see them spark even more. “Brison, do not place the woman below deck, place her in the captain’s chamber. I would like to keep an eye on my most prized purchase.”
Did she flinch? He was certain she had. Brison most certainly did, and if he didn’t know better Xandros did, too. “Very well, Captain.” Nicolaus caught the twist of his younger brother’s mouth before he turned toward Xandros, who nodded his agreement. Brison took hold of the woman’s arm and led her away. She tried to jerk from his brother, but Brison held firm. Even in her anger her stature was full of grace, and the sway of her hips was gentle, like the smooth motion of his vessel on a calm sea. The sight eased his irritation over his crew’s obstinacy. What was wrong with his brother and friend? Was he such an incompetent commander that his brother must seek his second-in-command’s permission before seeing his orders carried out?
“He thinks you’ve gone mad.” Xandros tugged on a rope leading up to the mast. “I’m inclined to agree. Prized merchandise?”
A rumble of laughter bubbled from Nicolaus’s stomach and burst forth. He clapped Xandros on the back, his mind sobered as he grasped hold of his own words, words that the Sea Dragon would have spoken. “Perhaps I have, my friend. Perhaps, I have.”
“Mayhap the men should seek the mercies of the sea god before we leave port.” The corner of Xandros’s mouth lifted. It was only a jest, but it bothered Nicolaus nonetheless. He’d long ago given up the idea of gods. Much to Uncle’s delight and his father’s grief. Where had the gods been when he was beaten day after day? Where were the gods when his sister was taken from his protection? Those so-called gods his friends and family called upon were nothing more than falsehoods conjured in the minds of idle men.
“Tell them to be done with it.” Nicolaus focused on the western horizon. The clouds grew darker and heavy. He did not have time for a storm. Not when he actually cared to beat his brother this time around.
All laughter left his friend’s face as his jaw fell open. “You can’t think to leave port with a storm coming toward us.”
“I’ve not known you to shy away from a small storm, my friend. Besides, we’ve not the time to waste if we’re to beat my brother.”
“You’ve drunk seawater to be mad as you are.”
Nicolaus smacked his friend on the back. “Nay, I admit there’s a risk, but I have the best sailors on board my ship who do not wish to be swallowed by the sea. If you look—” Nicolaus pointed “—the clouds are moving from the southwest. If we hold course and follow the coast north and then west, we’ll get ahead of it and mayhap miss the squall altogether.”
“It is a relief you don’t intend to sail straight across the sea.”
One corner of Nicolaus’s mouth twitched. How would his friend feel when the skies cleared?
Chapter Two (#ulink_2b61d012-bf4c-5911-90f9-47bc25299e32)
All reasoning had disappeared when the man had tossed her over his shoulder as if he were a barbarian and she nothing more than a sheep to slaughter. She had been fooled by his attire, richly dressed as he was, into believing he was kind, compassionate. She had hoped to convince him to return her to her father. Instead, he treated her no different than that Philistine when he had dragged her around by her hair.
And now she was being led around a boat. She’d heard of such vessels moving on the Great Sea, but she’d never seen one. Tales told by her father when she was naught but a girl had filled her with excitement. She had longed to experience such adventures until she recalled with clarity how his boat had splintered against rocks leaving him near death.
The crewman stopped beside a ladder and motioned for her to climb. She tilted her head back. It seemed as if the ladder led to a small room or a pyre. She’d heard the stories of these heathens, who even now lifted prayers to an unfamiliar god. She would not be their sacrifice, not to their god of the sea. As if one existed. Had they not heard of the one true God? The One who created the seas and all the beasts within.
The boat rocked. Although she understood the motion of the water, she was not prepared for the way it unsteadied her, causing her to stumble toward the wooden rail. White waves crashed against the boat. She sucked in a breath as the sailor lashed his arm around her waist and pulled her back from the edge. Fear clawed at her stomach, making it angry with each movement of the vessel. Her mouth began to water. Before she knew what was happening the man had her bent over the railing as she lost her morning’s meal. She pressed her bound hands to her mouth and squeezed her eyes closed.
“Better?”
“My thanks.” She nodded; grateful he’d spoken in her language and not that of her captor. She’d prefer the captain did not know she understood most of his language, especially if it helped her to escape.
The crewman pointed back toward the ladder. Ada wished to be as far from the sea as possible, yet... She glanced toward the port. If she could gain her freedom could she reach the shore before a sea monster attacked or the water swallowed her? There were people milling about. Would someone help her?
“Go on. It’s the safest place for you.” He pointed.
Ada’s stomach once again rebelled. Hands once again pressed to her mouth, she shook her head.
A shout rose from below. Rows of oars poked through the side. Another shout and the boat lurched forward. Ada stumbled, but gripped the rail to keep from falling. She swallowed back the tears threatening to spill as the boat lurched again, and again. Each movement proceeded by a command. A command that took her farther away from home.
The man glanced around as if considering Ada’s chance of escape. “Very well. However, you should sit over there.” He tugged on her hands. Shaking his head, he led her to the back end of the boat. The one closest to the shore. “Here. Sit beneath the shade of the helmsman’s perch. You won’t get stepped on and the walls will keep you from falling into the sea. My brother will not be happy I disobeyed his orders and will have my head if anything should happen to you.” He paused as he looked her over. “Considering your sickness, I am certain he will understand.”
A wave splashed against the boat, spraying upon her face. She pressed her back against the side and slid until she sat on her heels.
“I have duties to attend. Nicolaus had hoped to leave before the storm.” Nicolaus? This sailor’s brother and captain? It was not one she imagined. More like Leviathan or Goliath. He needed a name that invoked fear in children, not one that made her want to champion him as if he were a hero. He most assuredly was not her hero. Heroes didn’t steal maidens from their homes. It didn’t matter that he didn’t actually steal her, it didn’t matter that he, in truth, saved her from that horrible man, she couldn’t—wouldn’t—think of him as a hero, especially not her hero.
The man looked toward the sky and Ada followed his gaze. Angry gray clouds hung low, gliding overhead.
“Seems we’ll sail right into it.” He planted his fists on his hips and shook his head. The boat jolted and then rocked. Could the tipping and tilting of the boat possibly worsen? Ada gasped at the thought, but before she could ponder the panic welling inside her, the boat rolled, jerking her to the side. Instinctively, she flung her bound hands out to keep her head from hitting the planks. The crewman seemed unaware of her predicament or the odd creaks and rolling of the boat. His feet remained planted as she struggled to right herself and keep her stomach from rebelling against the motion. Were the waves making her ill or was it the lingering fear from her father’s tales?
“I will bring you a drink when I return. It should calm your nerves some.” He turned to leave, and then halted. “Take care. The god of the sea will not likely return as comely a maid as you if you were to fall over.” He left, scratching his head.
“Bah,” she whispered beneath her breath. Her brother had oft teased her when she was little saying the fabled god would come steal her away to his kingdom if she did not behave. The memory burned the back of her throat. What would Asher say now? However, it was not she who had been about such mischief to cause her trouble.
The captain’s brother halted near the middle of the boat and glanced at her over his shoulder before disappearing beneath the planks. Ada waited a few moments to see if he would return.
A shout from the platform above her caused the forward motion of the boat to quicken. Ada’s pulse thundered harder with each jarring movement. She bit at the ropes binding her wrists in hopes of loosening them, but to no avail. Standing, she ducked beneath the helmsman’s perch and leaned over the rail. Her gaze turned homeward. Merchants continued to busy themselves along the wharf. Some carried amphora vases toward the shore, others carried them onto boats. Waves rolled in from the sea, crashing against the stone piers, and her stomach roiled with the motion. She needed off this boat, needed to go home. Her brother had taught her to swim when she was little but never in such a vast body of water and never with her hands bound. All she need do was get into the water and swim on her back, kicking her legs.
The distance did not seem too far as she could still make out the arms and legs of the seafarers on shore. She gauged the incoming wave as her stomach threatened to unleash its fury. If she did it right, if she jumped before a wave passed, would it push her to shore as it did the pieces of drift being carried toward Ashkelon?
She pressed her face against her hands. Then what? Would she end up on the auction block again once she made it to the port city? This time to that horrible man with the matted beard and colorfully dressed women clinging to his arms. No doubt, especially since he had not seemed too happy to find himself outbid. At least she had a chance of returning to her father. And the sisters who had betrayed her.
Air hitched in her lungs. Had they acted on her father’s wishes? He’d been angry over her mother’s passing. Had he decided to rid himself of his youngest daughter, too? Was that why he had allowed her to journey into the city with Asher and her sisters when he had never done so before?
The thoughts ambushed her chest, tearing little pieces away from her heart. If she did not return home, she would never see her father again, never know if he had wished her gone from his presence.
She glanced down the side of the boat and watched the oars dig into the water, pushing the boat forward. If she jumped here, she would miss the oars and by God’s mercy He would see her safely home.
A look around the deck told her only a few men remained above. The rest, she assumed, tended the oars. The sailor who had helped her earlier had yet to reappear. Armed warriors stood on either side of the captain on a platform at the head of the boat. Nicolaus’s arms were crossed over his chest, his feet braced shoulder width apart. The strong wind tugged at his tunic, brushed back the curls of his hair.
Power and strength exuded from him and she could quite imagine him the son of one of his fabled gods. Her sisters had oft spoke of such men—half god, half man—with wistful smiles and wistful sighs. Mostly, they were larger than David’s Goliath had been. And they always had some sort of gift. Ada had paid her sisters heed only to gain their acceptance, but she knew better. There were no gods other than the God of Heaven and earth. He was the only living, breathing God. A god not created by the hands of man.
As if he could feel her eyes on him, the captain turned. His gaze settled on her, warming her chilled limbs from the stiff, stormy breeze. If only they had met under different circumstances. If only he had not acted the barbarian and hauled her over his shoulder as though she was his property. Of course, she was. He paid a great price to own her. However, that did not mean she was not angered by his behavior. Was this how her mother felt when she was bought and taken from her home by Ada’s father?
A shout drew his attention forward. The boat lifted, slamming Ada against the back of the craft and then to the side. A wave knocked her feet from beneath her and off the boat. She grabbed ahold of the rail and clenched her jaw, her feet dangling over the side. She glanced toward home, now a mere speck in the distance and she knew she’d not be able to swim the distance, not in the angry sea.
Her fingers ached with the effort to maintain her hold. She lifted her face to the sky. “Abba God, please, I just want to go home to my father.”
The boat rocked one way, lifting her away, and then the other plunging her into the cold waters. A wave crashed into her forcing her fingers to let go. She was pushed and then pulled, the wave sucking at her and then rolling her. Her lungs caught fire as she kicked her legs, fighting against the sharp talons of the wave.
* * *
He had shifted only a bit when the delightful prick at his nape had changed to a gut instinct that something was abominably wrong. A flash of bare feet and legs caught his eye when the sun-bleached linen and waves of wheat-colored tresses thrust upward.
“Xandros! Brison!” He jumped from the command post and onto the deck. He did not wait to see if the two followed. Unhinging the clasp at his shoulder, he removed his outer cloak, leaving only his undertunic on, and ran toward the back of the ship. He grabbed hold of the end of the coiled rope, kept at either end of the boat in the instance a man fell overboard, and hopped over the rail. He dove into the water. He’d sailed since he was a young boy and never once imagined anyone would willingly throw themselves to the mercy of the sea. Had she preferred to take her chances with the waves, or had she slipped overboard?
He blew the salty water from his nose and kicked toward the surface. Relaxing his muscles, he allowed his body to bob with the waves while he tied the rope around his waist. Brison’s bellow rose above the seas and the oarsmen reversed direction. Nicolaus would be thankful later that the coming storm had prevented them from unfurling the sail.
“Nicolaus!”
Xandros stood on the rail, pointing northward. The woman’s bound hands rose above her head before disappearing in the choppy water. Nicolaus bit back a curse. Brison should have cut her loose, but then Nicolaus should have ordered him to cut her loose. Perhaps then she’d have a better chance against the sea.
Not that she would have much of a chance if she did not know how to swim. The sea often took humans captive. She bobbed above the water, gasping for air, and he realized she had been pulled farther away than he expected. He hoped the rope reached that far.
“Nicolaus!” He did not need to look at his friend to see the warning. The way the sea bubbled around his legs and rose against his chest, he knew a large wave was bearing down on them.
He dove beneath the water, beneath the fall of the wave until it passed. Kicking upward, he broke the surface and sucked in air before slicing his arms through the water toward the last place he’d seen her.
“Where?” There was no time for patience. However, his gut told him to wait a few beats of his pulse. The water once again rose. God, my uncle is certain You are real. I did not save the woman only to see her swallowed by the ocean.
The wave tugged at him and crashed down upon his head before he could swim under it. He tumbled deeper away from the surface, slamming into a tangle of seaweed. No, it could not be seaweed, they were far enough away from the shore and he was not that close to the bottom.
Was he?
Something bumped against his leg. His eyes flew open. A mass of tresses expanded from either side of her heart-shaped face. The strands took on a life of their own as they obeyed the motion of the turbulent water. He wrapped his arms around her and kicked his legs until they broke the surface. Her body lay lifeless in his arms. Brushing her hair from her eyes, he willed them to open.
He spun her around so her back was pressed against his chest, and wrapped his arm tight around her stomach. He lay on his back and started to swim toward the boat when she began coughing. Her lids fluttered open and then widened in fear. She smacked her head against his shoulder as she arched against his chest. He tightened his hold on her as the sea began to bubble against his legs, but she managed to twist her body around to face him.
“Trust me.” Staring into her eyes, he spoke her language and willed her to trust him. If only until they set foot on the boat. “Hold your breath. I am taking you under.”
He glanced toward the large wave as it rolled toward them. Her muscles tensed.
“Now.”
She sucked in air a moment before he propelled them beneath the wave. With his arms wrapped around her waist, he once again pushed them toward the surface. He shifted her against his side and sliced through the water toward the boat—her hair tangling with his arms and legs hindered him. After only three strokes, the woman tensed and began to struggle against his hold.
“Halt!”
She jabbed her elbow into his ribs, but he held tight.
“You will die.”
She dug her heel against his shin. Twisting in his arms, she clouted his jaw, scratched at his eyes. He was a good swimmer, one thing he’d always beaten his brother at, but she was making it difficult. He seemed to be swallowing more water than usual.
