Beloved Protector (Heartsong Presents) by Darlene Mindrup Page A

expectantly.
    “Could you go to my horse, open the bag tied to its side and bring me the blue tunic you find there?”
    He paused but then gave a jerk of his head in confirmation and hurried to do as she’d asked.
    She went back inside and continued wiping down the woman’s body. As she did so, the woman moaned softly.
    Crassus came into the room, her blue tunic clutched in his hand. She hoped that Andronicus could forgive her for parting with the gift.
    “Do you need help?” Crassus asked.
    She shook her head. “No, not yet. I can manage to dress her but I will need your help to move her.”
    He looked at the woman, and Tapat was surprised by the pity she saw in his eyes. He gave Tapat a brief smile. “Just call me and I will come.”
    After she got the woman dressed, Crassus helped Tapat move her to the freshly made bed. He then took the soiled bedding outside. The scent in the room would take longer to eradicate, but it was less intense than before.
    Crassus brought her a bowl of the broth, and Tapat took it, blowing to cool it. She had no idea whether the woman could swallow in her present condition, but she had to try. Although a person could go without food for a while, three days without water could kill a person. The small clay cup overturned beside the sleeping mat told its own story.
    Tapat took a small spoonful of the broth and tried to feed it to the woman. Although some of it dribbled down the sides of her cheeks, Tapat was relieved to see that, even in her comatose state, her swallowing reflexes were normal. She fed her more, little bits at a time to keep her from choking.
    Tapat glanced up when Andronicus came back into the house. He had rewrapped the child in clean cloths, not like the swaddling cloths of her people, but it would do. She gave him a smile and he returned it halfheartedly. She knew without asking that he was concerned at how she would handle things if the two died, knowing how recent her own grief was. Even she didn’t understand the obsession that had overtaken her.
    Andronicus noticed the blue tunic on the woman, and his eyes narrowed. He looked at Tapat for answer and she shrugged helplessly.
    “There was no other.”
    He stared hard at her for several seconds before shaking his head in resignation. He seated himself at the table, still cuddling the babe. His face softened when he looked down at the child.
    “Is it a boy or a girl?” Tapat asked him.
    “A boy,” he told her without looking up from the child’s face.
    “How is he doing?”
    “Not well.”
    Those two little words said without inflection imparted more information than a brief recitation would have. Tapat’s heart dropped to her toes.
    A groaning from the mat caused Tapat’s heart to quicken. She looked at her patient, relieved to see her slowly open her eyes, which were still glazed with fever.
    She stared at Tapat uncomprehendingly.
    “What is your name?” Tapat asked her softly in Aramaic, gently brushing the woman’s hair out of her eyes.
    “Martha,” she croaked. Dawning comprehension widened her eyes. The ill woman tried to get up but was too weak to do more than lift her head and shoulders. She fell weakly back against the bed.
    “My baby,” she croaked. “Where is my baby?”
    “He is here,” she said, motioning for Andronicus to bring the child. He did so, and she gently laid the babe next to its mother. Martha was too weak to hold the baby on her own but was content to have him near. She looked down at her child and her eyes filled with tears. She knew without being told that the child hadn’t long to live if something couldn’t be done soon.
    “How long have you been like this?” Tapat asked.
    Martha looked up, and her glazed eyes darkened with memory. Her voice was no more than a whispered thread. “When the soldiers came, I was already in labor. I couldn’t leave with the others.”
    Tapat was horrified. “Have you no family? What of your husband?”
    “My husband was in Jerusalem