Atretes watched her boldly, willing her to look at him. When she did, his blood went warm at the softness in her eyes. No woman had ever looked at him like that before. Her face was pure gold in the glowing embers of the fire, which he’d let die down as he sat there, wondering how long it would be before she came back.
“Good night, Atretes,” she said softly and closed her eyes.
He ached with a profound longing. Disturbed, he added several more thick branches to the fire, then his gaze drifted back to Rizpah. She was asleep already. It annoyed him that she could be so at peace when he was in such turmoil. Was it her Christ again that had brought her this peace?
Atretes’ gaze rested on Caleb.
How could this god have such power and yet allow his son . . . his son to die at the hands of his enemies? Where was the power in such an act?
He looked again at Rizpah’s face and clenched his fists. He wanted to awaken her . . . and then what? Admit his doubts, his questioning, his interest in her infernal god? Admit the longing, the gnawing emptiness that ached within him whenever he saw the peace she and Theophilus shared?
Fool. Fool! They’d be traveling miles tomorrow, and instead of resting in preparation, he was sitting here, staring across the fire at a woman, and he couldn’t seem to help himself.
He sat a long while watching her sleep. He studied every contour of her face and body. How was it possible for a woman to become more beautiful every day? Stretching out on the ground, he lay staring up at the starry blue-black sky.
Willing himself to sleep, he closed his eyes. Even as he drifted off, her words echoed softly.
“However much you want to protect your heart, it’s already too late, isn’t it?”
24
They traveled the road through the ancient Etruscan city of Tarquinia, with its painted tombs, and went on to Orbetello near the base of Mount Argentarius. Crossing the bridge over the Albegna, they continued north for the Umbro River and Grosseto. They walked no more than twelve miles a day, for any more than that was too much for Rizpah.
The weather turned cold and wet.
“We’ll make it to Grosseto in another hour,” Theophilus said as a company of soldiers rode south past them.
Rizpah looked down the road. Though she said nothing, Atretes saw her weariness. The clouds opened, pouring a heavy driving rain down upon them. Long before they reached the edge of the city, she was soaked through, the hem of her tunic muddy.
“This way,” Theophilus said, leading them through the streets past a bazaar where the merchants were still carrying on trade within their tent booths.
Atretes grew uneasy as he saw more soldiers down the street ahead of him. “Where do you take us?”
“I know of an inn near the fort,” Theophilus said. “It’s been ten years since I passed through this city, but if it’s still there, we’ll find good food and shelter.”
The inn was owned by several retired Roman soldiers and had expanded since Theophilus’ last visit. The tariff for overnight lodgings had gone up as well, but Theophilus paid it gladly to get Rizpah and the baby out of the cold rain.
Atretes was tense and watchful as he stood within the courtyard. Legionnaires were coming and going from every direction. Many had women of easy virtue with them.
Caleb fussed as a young soldier passed by with a woman clinging to his arm. The legionnaire smiled at the babe, reaching out to chuck him lightly under the chin. “A wet night for travel, little one,” he said and fell silent as Rizpah looked up at him. The young man’s brows rose slightly in surprised pleasure. “My lady,” he drawled, giving her a slight bow and annoying his lady companion.
Atretes stepped closer and pushed the cape back from his hair. “Move on.”
The woman stared, openmouthed. Her gaze moved over him in stunned admiration. She smiled, eyes bright.
The soldier straightened slightly, insulted that a civilian would think to command him. He took in Atretes’ height, breadth, and the cold look in his eyes.
Atretes took Rizpah’s arm. He said nothing more, but the message was clear. The soldier heeded it. He took the woman’s arm and headed toward the stairs. She whispered something to him as they walked away. They rejoined the others of their group. As they spoke among themselves, two others glanced back at them.
“He meant no harm,” Rizpah said softly. “People always notice babies.”
“He was looking at you.”
Theophilus turned from having paid the proprietor.
“We will not stay here,” Atretes said, and Theophilus saw his burning look and where it was directed.
“Lower your hackles. They’re leaving.” He had forgotten the other amenities the establishment boasted. “We’ve been given a chamber down that corridor. I’ve arranged for food to be sent to us.”