Free The Queen's Handmaid by Tracy L. Higley Page B

her concern, David patted her shoulder as the barge’s ropes were thrown to the quay and dockworkers hauled it forward to tie off on the iron cleat. The brotherly gesture compressed the air in her chest. She must not get too close to yet another who could be snatched away.
    A small crowd had gathered on the dock, and it gave way to a man striding through it with confidence, an easy smile, and an upraised hand.
    From the prow of the barge, Herod shouted his greeting. “Antony, my friend! It is good to see your face!”
    Marc Antony grinned. “What a time you had getting here, eh? Well, come ashore and let us show you how Rome treats its guests.”
    Lydia gathered up the sack that had been her constant companion since leaving Alexandria and filed behind David and the others to disembark. She wore the pendant at all times, now strung on a leather cord beneath her tunic, and the box of scrolls weighted the bottom of the sack, pulling the fabric taut in her hands.
    Three months since she left Alexandria. Five months remaining to reach Jerusalem, still held by Herod’s enemy Antigonus, before Yom HaKippurim, the Day of Atonement.
    The feeling that Rome would devour her followed her from the barge, along the planking, to the waiting crowd, like a needling prick at her thoughts.
    “I hope you like it here.” Riva’s voice at her shoulder was unfriendly. She pushed past Lydia, narrow hips swaying as she caught up with Herod.
    How long would it take Herod to convince Mark Antony to lend troops for the war against Antigonus? Lydia needed to get out of Rome before Riva’s unfounded jealousy did more damage.
    The procession climbed from the murky River Tiberis toward the tree-lined summit of one of Rome’s seven hills, the Palatine. Marc Antony, as expansive and outgoing as Lydia remembered from his time in Egypt, ordered a wide litter for himself and Herod to be transported up the cobbled road. Lydia and the others followed, trailing between lofty umbrella pines that sharpened the air with their spicy scent, welcome after the stench of sea travel.
    Lydia took in every detail of the city as they climbed. The immense Roman Forum stretched at the base of the hill on their left, its lofty temple columns and administrative buildings peeking white from between the pines, visible even from this distance. In the valley to their right, an elongated oval stadium matched the length of the Palatine. Would they see chariot races even tonight, be able to witness the action from this height?
    But it was the hill itself that demanded attention, with its magnificent white-stoned estates spread under the cloudless blue sky, housing the elite of Roman society. The breeze on the hill contained no whiff of city odors. Lydia lifted her head to the dark wings of a bird, wheeling lazily over a two-storied estate, and despite all, she smiled.
    Laughter rang out from the litter ahead, and the eight straightbacked litter bearers slowed as one. The curtains were thrust aside and Herod’s head appeared.
    “Riva!” He scanned the cluster of those following the litter until he found the girl, already hurrying forward. “Come.”
    Riva bumped a shoulder against Lydia’s arm as she passed, then tossed a superior smile over her shoulder. The dark-skinned men who bore the litter lowered it nearly to the ground, and Riva climbed onto the cushioned bench, disappearing from view. Nowheavier with three occupants, the men grunted and heaved as one as they lifted the litter to their shoulders and continued.
    The procession wound past several estates and stopped at a midsized house with two stories and a peristyled garden in front, its portico columns circled with glossy vines.
    Inside, the staff was taken to separate men’s and women’s quarters, given jugs of water with which to wash, loaves of hard bread, and mats where they might rest. When the room was empty, Lydia took care to hide the scrolls in an unused urn in the corner.
    They were all to be included in