“We could buy a couple of donkeys. One can carry the gear and the other, Rizpah and Caleb.”
“I can get us a good price at the fort.”
Atretes’ expression darkened. “It’s bad enough suffering your company without doing commerce with Roman soldiers as well!”
Theophilus refused to take offense. “An army donkey is as good as a civilian donkey. And cheaper.” He tossed his tunic on the stone bench and dove into the pool. When he came up, Atretes was gone. Shaking his head, Theophilus gave the barbarian up to God. Nothing he could say or do was going to change Atretes’ opinion of anything. All the German could see was his enemy, Rome, standing in front of him. He was blind and deaf to all else.
Lord, if I can’t reach Atretes with your gospel now, how am I ever going to reach the Chatti? he wondered sadly.
Of one thing Theophilus was certain. Atretes’ Germanic practicality would win over his insufferable pride. Their money wasn’t inexhaustible, and they still had a long, long way to go. Army donkeys would have to do.
27
The two donkeys Theophilus purchased from the army made mountain traveling much easier. One carried the gear that had burdened the Roman and Atretes; on the other, Rizpah fashioned a seat for Caleb with packs, blankets, and leather straps. She walked alongside, holding a lead rope and carrying a stick. Caleb was delighted with the bouncing gait of the small beast, and with such a light load, the animal needed little prodding.
Winter was over and spring was coming on, swelling the rivers with melted snow. The steep roads were grueling and the air grew progressively cooler. Beech and birch gave way to spruce, pine, and fir as they followed the Roman road upward.
Rizpah filled her lungs with the wonderful scent, giving thanks to God. She loved the majesty of the mountains around her, though there were places of fearsome heights and sharp drops. The way was treacherous, for the rule of Roman road building was to connect cities and territories by the shortest route, and that was not necessarily the easiest. By noon each day, her legs ached, and by the time they made camp, her muscles trembled with exhaustion.
They found a sizable contingent of soldiers in residence at Aosta. Theophilus said the number was evidence of trouble ahead and went to the fort to find out whatever he could about the conditions they would be facing going over the Pennine Alps. Rizpah remained at the camp with Caleb and Atretes.
The mountains around them were sheer and white, the air crisp and chill. “I’ve never imagined a place so beautiful and merciless.” She looked at Atretes sitting across the fire, and she felt, in some small way, she was beginning to understand him.
“We go down from these mountains into the forests of my homeland,” he said without raising his head to look at her. “The air is not so thin, and there are no mountains like these.”
“Do you remember all this from when you were brought to Rome?”
He looked up at the immense mountain to the northeast. Yes, he remembered. “We go down from here to the Rhone River. We follow that to the Rhine. From there, I can find my own way.”
Rizpah felt a chill at the way he said it. “Theophilus is our friend, Atretes.”
“He is Roman.”
She had never seen eyes so cold. “All this time, all this way, and still you can’t trust him?”
“Why should I trust him? What reason does a Roman centurion go to Germania?”
“He wants to give the Good News to your people.”
He gave a sardonic laugh. “A soldier wants to know an enemy’s strength and weakness so he can report back to his commander.”
“He’s no longer part of the Roman army.”
“So he says.” He jerked his chin. “He was with Titus before we left Rome. And he never passes through a city without going to the fort, does he?”
“You’re wrong to suspect him, Atretes. Theophilus goes to the forts to learn what lies ahead, to be prepared for our sake.”
“You’re a woman. What do you know of war?”
“You’re right, Atretes. I know nothing of war. But I do know Theophilus. I trust him with my life. I trust him with Caleb’s.” She heard footsteps and saw him coming toward them.
“Brigands,” Theophilus said grimly, crouching near the fire. “A Roman official was robbed and murdered a few days ago.”
“Should we wait before going on?” Rizpah said, worried for Caleb’s safety.
Atretes threw a stick into the fire and rose. “We go on.” Nothing was going to stop him from getting home, not Romans, not brigands, not even the gods. Only when they were over the mountains and down into the black forests of his homeland would he breathe the air of freedom. And once there, he would decide what to do about Theophilus. He leaned down and took the wineskin and went out into the darkness.