Captive Heart (Truly Yours Digital Editions)

ISBN 1-58660-166-0

© 2000 by Barbour Publishing, Inc. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the permission of the publisher, Truly Yours, PO Box 719, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683.

Scripture taken from the
Holy Bible: New International Version
®.
niv
®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House.

All of the characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental.

Cover illustration by Victoria Lisi & Julius.

A misty rain settled over the smoldering ruins of the once flourishing city of Jerusalem. Roman soldiers plunged their way through the debris looking for anyone trying to hide in the wreckage. Echoing screams could be heard in the distance as more of Titus’s troops penetrated the interior of the upper city. The moans and cries of the dead and dying emanated eerily from the burning debris.

Samah huddled against the wall of the women’s court where the once grand Temple had been razed to the ground. All around her women, men, and children alike moved, their eyes vacant with the starvation and slaughter of the past several months. Her own stomach ached abominably with lack of sustenance; there had been nothing to eat for some time now. She wondered if her brother had fared any better in the prison.

Lifting her eyes to the night sky, Samah breathed a silent prayer of relief that her parents had been spared witnessing the horrifying event. They had left at the first signs of impending doom. The Lord Jesus himself had warned of the destruction to come before he died. Fortunately, the writers Matthew, Mark, and Luke had included His prophecy among their gospels. As soon as the Christian community had seen the beginning signs, they had fled to the surrounding countryside and beyond.

Her parents had thought that she was safe, also, she and her brother Ramoth. And they would have been, had Ramoth not become entangled in a brawl that left another man dead. Although she had believed Ramoth when he said he didn’t do it, the authorities had not.

She couldn’t bring herself to leave him while he was still in prison, so she had been caught inside the walls of Jerusalem when Titus had built his siege wall. She tried not to think about the things she had witnessed as a result of the ensuing starvation.

Only moments earlier, she had tried to find out what had happened to her brother, but the burly Roman she had asked had knocked her to the ground and told her to stay put. His eyes had been as glacial as the snow that sometimes fell in the mountains around Samaria.

A young woman crawled to Samah’s side and huddled near her. Her whimpering cries of distress touched Samah’s young heart. She pulled the young girl close, wrapping her arms around her to share some of her body heat. Both women shivered in silence for some time. Finally, the young girl turned a tear-ravaged face to Samah, her voice hoarse with emotion.

“Why? Why did Jehovah do this to us?”

Although Samah could sympathize with the girl’s pain, she had no doubt of the reasons behind it. Even Titus had recognized the destruction for what it was. After he entered the city and saw the massive structures of the towers and walls, his words had fallen with ringing clarity among the defeated citizens.

“We have certainly had God as our assistant in this war, and it was no other than God who ejected the Jews from these fortifications; for what could the hands of men or any machines do towards overthrowing these towers?”

“Jehovah didn’t do this to us,” Samah told the young girl softly. “We did it to ourselves.”

The girl pulled back, her face clearly puzzled. “What do you mean? How did we do this to ourselves?”

“Jehovah gave us everything, even His Son as an atoning sacrifice. The Jews turned their back on the Messiah. Why shouldn’t He turn His back on us?”

“The Messiah? What Messiah?”

Praying for guidance, Samah began to tell the girl about Jesus. She had never been reticent about sharing the Good News with anyone, and now was no exception. Even amid this slaughter, she knew that Jehovah’s will would be done. As her story went on, the girl drew farther away, her eyes darkening until they resembled large pools of still water.

“You speak blasphemy,” she hissed.

Samah tried to reason with her further, but she sidled away, crawling to the other side of the compound, her baleful eyes resting momentarily on Samah before she turned her face with finality.

Sighing with despair, Samah wondered not for the first time why Jehovah had placed her in this position. Although the pain and hunger were horrendous, she still had no doubts about her Lord’s direction. There had to be a reason that she was here. But why hadn’t the Lord interceded on Ramoth’s behalf? If only her impulsive brother had learned to quell his reckless personality, they would even now be safe in Sychar with their parents. Or were her parents somewhere out there trying to find a way to reach them? Surely they realized that Ramoth and she were still in Jerusalem. The thought only added to her distress, because if her father were caught, he would most likely be sent with others who were destined for the arena in Rome.

Before long Samah’s clothes were soaked, and her shivering intensified. Her teeth began to chatter from the decreasing temperatures. Although Jesus had warned that they should pray that this destruction wouldn’t come in the winter, the time of the first rains was bad enough.

A sudden swishing sound followed by a thud brought her gaze around in time to see a Roman soldier fall to the ground, an arrow protruding from his neck. There was instant pandemonium as the other soldiers scattered to find protection for themselves as a barrage of arrows fell among those in the compound.

Samah curled into a ball, covering her head with her arms. She began to petition Jehovah in earnest for their safety, hers and that of the others being held prisoner here. The screams of the people being held prisoner drowned out the officers’ yells. There was nowhere to hide.

Jerked upwards, Samah felt a large arm wrap around her neck. She was almost lifted from the ground by a Roman soldier using her body as a shield against the flying arrows.

The arrows had been precise. Not a Jew was harmed. Only Roman soldiers lay prostrate in the gathering mud.

Choked by the strangling hold, she pulled ineffectually at the soldier’s arm. Other soldiers had taken the opportunity to use women as their shields, also. She could hear the shouts of the soldiers, but she could distinguish no words above the pulse pounding in her ears.

Just when she thought she would faint from lack of oxygen, the soldier holding Samah dropped her to the ground. She slumped into a heap, gathering great gulps of air into her famished lungs.

“Captain!”

At the shout, the man standing over Samah hurried towards another soldier frantically motioning with his arms. They moved quickly toward a small group of soldiers gathered in a semicircle around some object on the ground. Samah could hear their agitated voices even from that distance.

“He’s going to
kill
us,” one man declared vehemently.

“Fool!” the captain yelled angrily. “Why didn’t you shield him?”

“We need to try to get the arrow out,” another soldier suggested hesitantly.

“Are you going to try it?” the captain demanded. His look moved around the group. “Any of you?”

Curious in spite of herself, Samah tried to see past their hobnailed boots. Still rubbing her throat, she crawled to the side until she could see what they were discussing. What she saw sent her dark eyebrows winging upward in amazement.

A massive dog lay on the ground, an arrow protruding from his flank. His red-gold fur was matted with blood and mud. Every time a man approached, the dog lifted his head and bared his teeth. He had a mane of fur around his neck that reminded Samah of a lion.

The captain rubbed his hands through his hair in agitation. “Does anyone know where the Tribune is?”

Fearful eyes met fearful eyes, and each man shook his head. Samah was amazed that these arrogant specimens of manhood would tremble at the sight of an injured dog.

“Well, find him, for the love of Poseidon! He’ll have our hides if the dog dies.”

Several men scurried to do his bidding.

Eyes slowly scanning the perimeter of the compound, the captain barked orders that his men jumped to obey. Before long a young soldier returned with news that caused Samah’s heart to sink.

“The assassins are dead, Captain.”

“All of them?”

The soldier nodded. “They refused to surrender. We had to kill them.”

Sighing, the captain surveyed the occupants of the yard. There was no sympathy whatever in the look he bestowed on the defeated Jews.

“It’s what we should do with all of them,” he declared harshly before turning and walking away.

“But, Captain,” the soldier followed him, “what about the
dog?”

A fearful look of uncertainty crossed the captain’s face before he shrugged. “Leave him. There’s nothing we can do. Only the Tribune can touch him.”

“He’s not going to be pleased. You know how much he thinks of the animal.”

“You have a better idea?” the captain snapped.

Shaking his head, the soldier dropped his gaze to the ground. Samah watched until the others were occupied before she stood slowly and hopped across the ground towards where the dog lay. The animal’s sides were heaving, and she knew he must be in great pain.

The fact that she had been born without a foot hadn’t stopped her from learning how to walk, but without her crutch, it was so much harder. Wishing she still had her crutch to help her move, she hopped around until she was in front of the animal’s face.

The dog stared into her eyes a long moment, his dark eyes glistening with intelligence. Samah knelt beside him. For as long as she could remember, she had had an affinity with animals. They seemed to sense that she meant them no harm, and often her parents had shaken their heads at her menagerie of animals rescued from so many kinds of tribulation.

“Get away from there!”

Several soldiers ran towards her, but Samah held her position. Reaching out, she began to rub her hands over the dog’s massive head, talking quietly to soothe him. He allowed her touch, his eyes fixed steadily on her face.

The soldiers stopped beside her, their mouths open in amazement.

“Well, I’m a donkey’s udder! How did you do that?”

One man knelt beside Samah and reached for the dog, but he jumped quickly to his feet when the animal pulled back his lips and lunged at his hand. Three pair of eyes fastened on Samah in apprehensive fascination.

She ignored the looks and continued to stroke the dog’s head. “It’s all right,” she cooed. “We only want to help.”

Glancing up at the captain, she told him, “I’ll hold his head, you break the arrow and pull it free.”

One brow rose uncertainly, but he nevertheless moved to obey. His look raked over Samah’s emaciated form, and she could tell he didn’t have much faith in her ability to hold the animal. She adjusted her position until the dog’s head rested on her lap. Continuing to stroke his fur, she nodded for the captain to continue.

Swallowing convulsively, he glanced first at his men and then once more towards Samah. Lowering himself to his haunches, he hesitantly reached out for the arrow. The dog didn’t move. Taking a deep breath, he took hold of the arrow and in one quick movement snapped it just below the feathers.

The captain’s look flew to the dog, but the animal still lay unmoving under Samah’s gliding hands. She nodded her head.

“Go ahead.”

The captain motioned to one of his men. “Antony, lift the dog’s hindquarters so that I can pull the arrow out.”

Nervously, the soldier did as he was told. When the captain jerked the arrow free, the dog yelped, but didn’t move his head from Samah’s lap. She could hear a collective sigh of relief from those gathered around.

“I need something to bandage his wound,” she told them.

One soldier ran to do her bidding and brought back a torn tunic. When Samah had the dog settled to her satisfaction, she glanced up at the captain. “Thank you,” she murmured.

He stared at her wordlessly, some nameless emotion passing through his eyes briefly. Turning, he left her sitting there.

Before long another soldier entered the compound, and the captain hastened to his side, snapping a smart salute.

“My name is Fronto,” the man explained. “Titus has asked me to decide the fate of the Jews.”

“Yes, Sir. I was told that you would be coming.”

Fronto dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Any men wearing arms are to be slain on the spot. Those who are too old and those who are infirm are to receive the same.”

For a split second, the captain felt pity for the huddling mass of Jews, but only for a second. Remembering friends who had died at their hands, his pity was effectively quashed. His look strayed to where Samah still crouched over the wounded dog. “Too bad they’re not important people. At least Titus will make sure his group is kept alive. I don’t give much for their chances,” he finished, nodding at the group of defeated Jews.

The other soldier’s gaze wandered about the quivering group. There was no compassion in his eyes. “We should just kill them now and save ourselves the trouble.”

“I suppose,” the captain agreed, but there was little enthusiasm in his voice. For him, there had been enough killing for one day.

Samah watched in horror as Fronto walked around the group, swiftly dispatching those who were elderly and weak. At a snap of his fingers, a soldier was ready to strike a lethal blow. There was nowhere to run, and no way to do so. The Jews waited in petrified silence intermittently broken by wails of lament or screeches of fear.