As Sure as the Dawn(115)

She turned and looked at him, uncomprehending. Atretes looked back at her as though she had sprouted horns. Perhaps she had.

He felt uncomfortable. Why was she staring at him like that? Mouth flattening, he picked up his chicken again. “Sit down and eat, woman. Maybe you’ll think better with some food in your stomach.”

Rizpah came back and sat down. “I covered you with my cloak.” She waited for him to look at her again, but he seemed intent on eating his dinner and pretending she wasn’t even in the room. “I thought you forgot your cloak again,” she said quietly.

“I didn’t forget it.” He tossed the bones onto the platter instead of the floor. His manners were improving.

“I’m sorry I threw the chicken leg at you.”

How could a woman be on fire with anger one second and serenely calm the next? “Be glad you didn’t hit me.” He reached for a bunch of grapes.

“I shouldn’t have assumed—”

“Eat!”

Smiling, she picked up the chicken and broke off a wing. They ate in silence, his tense, hers tranquil. Atretes finished first and wiped his hands on a blanket. He seemed to want to get away from the table and her as quickly as he could.

“What instructions did Theophilus give you?”

“To head north and camp near a milestone. He said he’d find us.”

Atretes went over to the pack he had dumped on the floor. He untied the ropes and opened the blanket. He tossed a heavy ball of cloth to her. As it fell loose in her hands, she realized it was a thick woolen tunic. “You can wear the one you have under it.” He tossed her a wool-lined boot similar to those soldiers wore in cold weather. As soon as she caught it, he tossed her the second. The soles of both were made of thick leather and studded with hobnails.

“Your feet will stay dry and warm in those. I had them rubbed with beeswax.” He pulled out a heavy woolen cloak and stood. “This’ll keep you from freezing in the snow, and there’ll be plenty where we’re going.”

Dropping the boots, she pressed her face into the woolen tunic and cried.

Atretes stood silent, embarrassed. He listened grimly to her sobs and wanted to comfort her. He knew he couldn’t. The baby was asleep, Theophilus miles away, and they were alone in this bedchamber. What he felt was too strong. And he knew she felt it, too. If he touched her, he might not listen to any protest she might utter. He didn’t trust himself where she was concerned. His baser instincts had been honed to reign too long. He didn’t want any more regrets. He lived with enough already.

“If you put those things on now, Rizpah, we might make a couple of miles before it gets dark.”

Sniffling, Rizpah stood and loosened her sash. She pulled the heavy woolen tunic over her head. It dropped in loose comfortable folds down to her ankles. She tied her sash and sat down again, pulling on the boots. She looped the leather laces and pulled them snug before tying them and folding down the tops so they fit midcalf. She stood and thanked God she wouldn’t have to walk another mile in her worn sandals.

“Thank you,” she said simply, trying not to cry again. “They’re a perfect fit. How did you know?”

He came and put the cloak around her. “I took one of your sandals with me.” He held onto the edges of the garment, staring into her eyes, his pulse pounding. A fierce tenderness filled him, and a desire to protect her. He didn’t like what she made him feel and let go of her.

“When we get to Germania, you will tell no one what you told me,” he said, rearranging his gear for easier carry. When she said nothing, he picked the pack up and turned to look at her. “Give me your word.”

“I can’t. You know I can’t.”

He couldn’t believe she refused. “I told you what they’d do to you. My people don’t give second chances.” There was a time when he wouldn’t have either. She was making him weak.

“I won’t lie.”

He stared at her. “They’ll kill you if they find out.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

No matter the cost, she had said before and she was holding to it. She wouldn’t compromise. A part of him was glad. A part of him felt safe in her answer because he knew he could trust her. But another part knew fear. She mattered to him already far more than he cared to admit, and the Chatti showed no mercy.

“All right. Let it be as you say. Don’t lie. Just don’t say anything.” He slung the pack onto his back.

“The way I said nothing to you. I should’ve told you all about myself when you first began asking questions instead of giving you information piecemeal.”