“So will Caleb,” Rizpah said as she wrung out the cloth again. She dabbed it gently to Marta’s face, smiling. “He adores Elsa, but I think it’s Luisa who’s stolen his heart.”
Casting away Anomia’s warning, Marta smiled back. She forgot her fears. She forgot everything but how tired she was. Rizpah’s touch was as gentle as her mother’s, her voice and manner as soft and loving, somehow even more so. Marta relaxed within it, feeling safe, feeling hope. “I’m glad you’re here. I’m so glad.” The terrible anxiety that had filled her for days dissipated like a thin mist beneath the warmth of the sun. Just for an instant, she thought she heard a sound like the keening of bats fleeing.
Beads of perspiration broke out on Marta’s face. “I think your fever’s breaking,” Rizpah said, stroking her gently. “All is well, Marta.” She sat beside her again and took her hand. “Sleep.”
“Will you stay?”
“I’ll be with you until you tell me to go.” Lord, be with us. Protect us from the evil I felt in this house when I entered. Put angels around us. Father God, keep us safely in the palm of your hand.
She prayed silently all the while she watched over Atretes’ sister.
And for the first time in many days, Marta wasn’t tormented by dreams. She slept peacefully, dreaming of a beautiful garden where she and Usipi and their children walked together in the company of a man who shone like sunlight.
* * *
“Of course she cured her,” Anomia said, trembling within at the news that Marta was well and that the fever had broken within an hour after that dark-eyed Ionian witch had been given entrance to the house. “It was probably that woman who cast the spell in the first place.” Jealous fury burned within her.
“It does stand to reason that the one who cast the spell would naturally have the power and knowledge to stop it,” Freyja said and was surprised by the flash of venomous anger in Anomia’s eyes, “but I doubt it was Rizpah who cast it.”
“Why do you doubt it?”
“She wouldn’t do such a thing,” Freyja said.
“How do you know she wouldn’t?”
Freyja’s brows flickered at Anomia’s sharp tone. “Because I’ve seen nothing but compassion flow from her.” She suffered herself to look straight into Anomia’s eyes. “Besides, it was you who told Marta the sickness was brought on by Tiwaz. It was you who said Tiwaz had revealed this to you in a dream. It was you who said she had been disobedient and had displeased him and that Tiwaz wanted her to listen to you. Are you saying now that wasn’t so? Or are you telling me now that you were wrong in your interpretation?”
Anomia felt hot and cold with every word Freyja spoke. She was trapped, and her mind worked furiously to find a way to lay the blame elsewhere. She wanted to insist Rizpah was the cause of all the trouble, but her own proclamations prevented her from doing so. “It was Tiwaz. He did speak to me,” she lied and then plowed the ground for more seeds of destruction. “It just seems very curious that Tiwaz would release Marta with an outsider present.”
Freyja had thought it curious as well and come to her own conclusions. “Rizpah isn’t an outsider. She’s my son’s wife.”
Jealousy wrenched Anomia’s heart at her words. Wife. The title ripped at her pride. Atretes’ wife. Her blood sizzled. Wife! The word circled in her mind like a carrion bird, mocking her. Used in connection to that woman, it was an abomination. Yet one look into Freyja’s eyes and she knew to speak against the Ionian now would bring suspicion upon herself.
“I’m going to the sacred wood to give a sacrifice of thanks- giving,” Freyja said. “Would you like to come with me?”
Anomia could think of nothing she would detest more. Give thanks? For what? She had revealed her power in casting the spell on Marta, and no one could know of it. Instead, the foreigner’s mere presence in the household was enough to convince the villagers she had appeased Tiwaz in some way. It didn’t matter that it made no sense. She couldn’t argue without casting suspicion on herself.
The whole thing had turned back on her! Why, Tiwaz? What game are you playing with me now? That Ionian witch is as much your enemy as mine. And she’s being held in higher esteem than before the spell. She’s no longer being treated as an outsider. Do you see how she stands in plain view of me, talking with Herigast’s wife?
“Of course I’ll go with you,” Anomia said, her beautiful face showing none of her inner turmoil.
But Freyja sensed it, and was given further cause to doubt.