As Sure as the Dawn(163)
Closing the door behind her, she shut herself into darkness, filled with malicious mirth at what she had done and eager for the horrible results to come.
Tomorrow, Marta would know the cost of infidelity.
But the pain would begin tonight.
Anomia knew Usipi would come, seeking her help, and she would give it graciously. She would tell Marta what was happening to her. Not in words. Just subtle hints that would make the spell more excruciating and terrifying. And delightful. She wanted the undiluted pleasure of watching the pathetic wretch squirm in fear.
O Tiwaz! My god, my god! It feels so good to have power over others. I love it. Give me more. More!
YOU WILL RECEIVE MORE THAN YOU EVER DREAMED.
“Give me Atretes.”
IF YOU BUT SERVE ME.
“I will serve you. I give myself to you without restraint. Give me what I want. Give me Atretes.”
And her master answered, giving her a deeper craving and darker thoughts that pulled her down further into the vortex of an unhallowed plan. And with it came laughter, softly on the dark wind, mocking and triumphant.
40
Theophilus came awake in darkness. He sat up slowly, so as not to make any noise, and listened intently.
A scuffling sound at the doorway made him peer that way. Squinting, he made out a hulking shape and thought it was the bear he had seen the evening before. Moving slowly, he took his dagger from the shelf he had cut into the wall beside his pallet.
“Roman,” came a deep whisper, urgent and demanding.
Relieved, Theophilus put the knife back. “Who is it?”
The man moved back out of sight. “You don’t need to know,” he whispered.
“What do you want?”
The silence lengthened until crickets began to chirp again. Frowning, Theophilus moved so he could see out the open doorway to the stars. “Are you still there?”
“Yes.”
“Then speak as you will, stranger,” he said in a calm voice. “I’m listening.”
“Shhh!” There was a rustling sound, a restless movement near the doorway. “I want to know about this god of yours,” the man whispered.
The voice was indistinct, but vaguely familiar. “Why do you come asking questions in the middle of the night?”
“I don’t want to be seen by . . . I don’t want anyone to know I’m speaking with you.”
“Because I’m a Roman?”
There was a snort of derision. “No.”
Theophilus tried to put a face to the voice and couldn’t. “Are you afraid?”
“Not of you.”
The remark was said with such confidence, Theophilus didn’t doubt it. He laughed, until a surprising possibility occurred to him. “Are you a member of the Thing?”
The man didn’t respond.
Theophilus didn’t press for an answer. “What does Atretes say to you about Jesus?”
The man gave a hoarse laugh. “He says too much. And not enough.”
“He’s new to the faith, but his heart’s good.”
“I didn’t come to hear Atretes praised.”
Animosity. Jealousy? An old grudge? Theophilus took the small clay lamp from the shelf above him and set it in the middle of the room. “Come into the light and we’ll talk.”
“No one is going to know I’ve been here.”
Theophilus frowned slightly. “I won’t tell anyone you were here.” When the man said nothing, he tried to reassure him. “I give my word what passes between us will be in complete confidence.”
“Your word. You’re a Roman. I’ll stay where I am.”
Theophilus reached for the lamp, intending to put it away. “Put it beside you,” the man whispered sharply.
Theophilus did so, fully cognizant the intruder wanted to be able to see his face. “Will that do?”
“It’ll do.”
Theophilus waited for the man to ask his questions. The silence lengthened. Crickets chirped. A bullfrog somewhere in the grass near the western wall croaked.
“I want to know the truth about God,” the man whispered. “Just tell me everything from the beginning.”
* * *
“Marta’s sick,” Freyja said, entering the longhouse and going to her shelves of herbs and oils.
“Sick?” Atretes said, surprised. “Since when? She was fine yesterday.”
“Since last night. Usipi came for me early this morning.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“I can’t be sure, other than she’s in pain and has a high fever.”
“Probably something she ate.” Varus took the bowl of hot grain porridge Rizpah filled for him without looking at her. “You know how she loves berries.”
“She said she’s eaten no berries.”