As Sure as the Dawn(107)

Atretes stripped off his tunic and tossed it at him as well. Taking a couple of steps, he dove into the tepidarium. He came up in the middle and shook his hair back. The place seemed quieter. He struck out, swimming for the far end and, when he reached it, planted his hands on the side and lifted himself out of the water. Men and women paused in their various activities to stare as he strode along the portico. He entered the calidarium.

For a man who despised being the center of attention, he certainly knew how to become just that. Amused, Theophilus sat on a bench and leaned back to wait. It wouldn’t be long.

Inside the calidarium, Atretes opened the flask and poured scented oil into his palm. He rubbed the oil rigorously on his chest, shoulders, beneath his arms, and down his legs in a hurry to quit the place.

A man approached him. “Would you like me to massage that in . . .” The words dried up as Atretes’ head came up. The man held up a hand and retreated quickly.

Muttering under his breath, Atretes scraped the oil briskly from his skin and shook it off the strigil. As soon as the deed was done, he headed into the frigidarium and took a quick cold plunge.

Theophilus saw Atretes striding toward him, a towel wrapped snugly around his waist. Atretes snatched his discarded tunic from him and donned it. “Done,” he said and took his belt. As soon as it was on, he took the money pouches, tucked them securely in place, and jerked his head in dismissal. “Take your time.”

He strode through the archways.

Laughing, Theophilus followed him out the door into the street and fell into step beside him. “I’ve never seen a man so eager to forgo the pleasure of a relaxing bath.”

“Go and take your bath, Roman. I can find my own way back to the inn,” Atretes snarled without breaking stride.

“Like you, I feel less comfortable with women around. I’ll bathe at the fort. Besides, this old mule of Marius could use a good massage,” he said, making reference to the name often attached to legionnaires for the amount of gear they carried.

They walked along the stone street. White pebbles had been set between the larger cobbles to reflect the moonlight and give illumination to show the lay of the street ahead.

“How far to the mountains?” Atretes said grimly.

“There are mountains all the way. Even following the coast road to Genova isn’t easy for someone not conditioned to hard travel.”

“She hasn’t complained.”

“She won’t.”

Atretes took note of the pictured plaques suspended above several shops along the street. He saw two of interest. “We’ll rest two days instead of one.”

Theophilus’ brows rose slightly, but he nodded. “So be it.” Whatever Atretes’ reasons, Rizpah needed the rest. And it would give him more time to ask questions at the fort and learn what trouble may lie ahead. Last he heard, there were brigands working the road through the Graian Alps. Perhaps there was another, safer way. By sea to the Rhine or through another pass. He needed to find out.

“I leave you here,” he said. “The inn’s at the end of that street. I’ll take my time. Perhaps my absence will give you and Rizpah the opportunity to shore up the breach between you. Whatever happened the other night is eating at both of you. Sort it out.”

Atretes’ eyes narrowed as he watched the centurion walk down the street toward the west gate of the fort. A guard was posted, and Theophilus paused to speak with him.

When Atretes entered the chamber, Rizpah glanced up in surprise from where she was on the floor playing with Caleb. “That didn’t take long,” she said and looked past him. “Where’s Theophilus?”

Jealousy gripped Atretes without warning. “He went to the baths at the fort.” Tossing his cloak onto a couch, he looked at her grimly. Caleb was clutching the front of her tunic as he tried to stand on his own. Her expression was one of bemused question.

“I won’t ask if you enjoyed your bath,” she said. “You didn’t take long enough.” She caught Caleb before he fell, holding him up until he found his balance again.

“He’s getting too heavy for you to carry.”

“For long distances, yes.”

“I’ll carry him from now on.”

“Does that mean I get the gear?”

“No,” he said, not amused. “You wouldn’t last a mile.”

“You needn’t add Caleb to what you’re already packing on your back.”

“You’re weak.”

It was said so coldly, she almost dismissed his original concern on her behalf. “Weaker than you, yes, but not so weak I can’t carry my share. And Caleb,” she kissed the baby’s neck, “is my share.” She picked him up and stood. “Maybe by the time I reach your homeland, I’ll be as robust as any German woman.”