As Sure as the Dawn(160)

Nothing had gone the way he’d thought it would when he returned home. He had expected resistance to the new faith he brought, but he hadn’t expected other feelings to creep in. He looked around the village of rough-hewn buildings, dirty children running naked in the streets, and remembered the cobbled streets and marble halls of Rome. He sat in the longhouse, smelling the unwashed bodies of his kinsmen and remembered the pristine Roman baths filled with the aromas of scented oils. He listened to Varus and the others, drunk and shouting for the sake of argument, and thought about the long hours of quiet, yet invigorating discussion he had with Theophilus. Eleven years! Eleven long, grueling years he had dreamed of coming home. And now he was . . . and he didn’t belong.

He was more comfortable with Theophilus, a Roman, than he was with his own kinsmen. It disturbed him. It made him feel he was betraying his people, his heritage, his race.

He walked along the path and saw the clearing ahead. Theophilus sat near a small cook fire, sharing a meal with Caleb. He was talking, Rizpah, sitting opposite, listened intently. It was an innocent enough scene, two friends sharing a meal together, carrying on conversation, comfortable with one another. It shouldn’t bother him, but it did.

Theophilus saw him first and called a greeting.

Rizpah turned her head and rose. She smiled at him, and he felt the punch of desire, like a fist in his gut. And he felt something more. He knew, without a doubt, that he could trust her. He took her hand and kissed her palm. “I wondered where you were,” he said roughly.

“Dada . . . Dada . . .” Caleb waved a partially chewed rabbit leg at him.

He laughed, relaxing, Anomia’s words completely forgotten.

“Isn’t this nice?” Rizpah said. “It’s so quiet, you can hear the birds singing. You have to see the inside of Theophilus’ house.” She wove her fingers with his. “Come look.”

Atretes had to duck his head to enter, but could stand straight once inside. Theophilus’ grubenhaus was larger than the others in the village, the structure overhead strong. “Good work, Theophilus!” he called back through the doorway. “You build like a German!”

Theophilus laughed in response.

“Wouldn’t it be nice to have a home like this ourselves?” Rizpah said, letting go of him and turning full circle. Atretes glanced at her and saw a longing he hadn’t noticed before. The quiet enfolded them again. All he could hear were the birds outside and the beat of his own heart in his ears.

Atretes watched her move around the sunken room. It would be nice to get out from under Varus’ roof, even if all they had was a canopy of sky over their heads. Just so they could be alone again.

I’ll have to do what I can about our own home, he thought, watching her. A smile quirked his lips. And soon.

* * *

“I think you’re right,” he said, propping his head up on his hand. When she made no answer, he smiled and brushed his fingertips lightly over her lips. “Don’t go to sleep, Liebchen. We have to go back soon.”

“I know. I was just enjoying the quiet.”

Leaning down, he kissed her tenderly. “Were you dreaming about a grubenhaus of our own?”

She touched his hair, a faint frown settling. “It would hurt your mother if you left.”

He noticed she didn’t include herself.

But again, she was right. He lay on his back, staring up through the canopy of pine branches. His mother would be hurt. “Things would be better if Varus would listen to me.”

“Or if you would listen to him.”

He turned his head sharply. “To what? His blind, pigheaded foolishness about Tiwaz?”

“No,” she said gently. “Listen to his fear.”

He snorted. “Varus has never been afraid of anything,” he said, dismissing the possibility.

Rizpah could feel his anger ease slightly. She didn’t want to rouse it again, but had to speak. “The other evening when Theophilus won the match against Rolf, you came back exultant, didn’t you?”

He gave a slight laugh. “Of course. God showed his power is greater than Tiwaz’s.”

“Think what your people must feel.” She turned to him, propping her head up and looking at him. “Weren’t you afraid when the Lord brought me back to life?”

“Terrified,” he said, his mind suddenly clearing with understanding.

“And you were prepared.”

“Prepared?”

“You’d been hearing the gospel from the time we left the Ephesian port, to the catacombs, and along the road over the Alps.” She smiled. “Against your will, most of the time.”

He laughed ruefully. “I couldn’t get away from it.”