Atretes gazed down at his son. “No,” he said with a wry smile. “I think he’s telling me what he thinks of me.”
Silus entered the room looking bleary-eyed from drink and lack of sleep. “Lagos said you sent for me, my lord.”
“Go to Ephesus. Southeast of the Artemision and library is a street with insulae on both sides,” Atretes said. “Enter the one on the west. Second floor, fourth door on the right is the widow, Rizpah.”
“The woman who brought the baby this morning?”
“Yes. Bring her back here as quickly as possible.”
“She never left, my lord.”
“What?” Atretes’ face darkened. “What do you mean she never left? I ordered her out!”
“She left the villa, my lord. She went outside the gate and sat by the side of the road. She’s been there ever since.”
Atretes frowned, annoyed and relieved at the same time. “Get her.”
Silus left quickly.
The baby’s crying made his nerves raw. Atretes paced and then sat down, the child in his lap. “What’s taking so long?” he muttered, feeling like he had a hot coal in his hands. Light footsteps hurried along the outer corridor, and the widow appeared in the doorway.
Face pale with cold and puffy from crying, she entered the kitchen. Atretes waited for her to rail at him with accusations. She didn’t. She said nothing except “Caleb” in a broken whisper as she came across the room. Grim-lipped, Atretes took his hands from his son, and she lifted the baby from his lap. As she cradled the infant close, he continued to cry, but the sound was different. Turning away, she shifted her shawl and untied the right shoulder of her tunic. Atretes saw her shoulders jerk once as his son began to nurse.
The kitchen fell silent.
The wet nurse gave a deep sigh, echoing his own relief. “A babe knows his mother.”
Atretes rose sharply. “Get out!”
With a frightened gasp, the wet nurse fled the room. Atretes turned his angry glare on Lagos and Silus, dismissing both with a jerk of his head.
Again, silence fell over the kitchen as he stood alone in the room with the widow nursing his son. Hooking the stool with his foot, he scraped it closer to the fire. “Sit.” The woman did so without looking at him. Her head was bent over the child, and she murmured softly to him as he nursed.
Atretes moved restlessly around the kitchen, finally stopping and leaning his hip against a counter. Clenching his teeth, he turned again. She had draped the shawl modestly over her shoulder; the babe nestled against her breast beneath it. He noticed the dampness seeping through the left side of her tunic.
Rizpah shifted Caleb tenderly, remaining covered as she loosened the ties on her left shoulder. She felt Atretes watching her and was embarrassed. Her eyes flickered to him.
Surprised, Atretes saw the color mount her cheeks. How many years had it been since he’d seen a woman embarrassed by anything? She turned herself on the stool so her back was to him, clearly disturbed by his presence. She could suffer it; he wasn’t leaving her alone with his son.
Rizpah could sense his gaze boring into her back. She could feel the heat of his anger.
“I told you to leave,” he said darkly.
“You don’t own the road.”
He gave a bleak laugh. “It would seem you own my son.”
Rizpah glanced back over her shoulder and saw something in his face she knew he would prefer to have hidden. His mouth flattened and his eyes glittered as they held hers. “I had a long time to think,” she said softly.
“About what?”
“I know very little about you. Only grim details about the violent life you’ve led.”
His smile was cold and derisive.
Disturbed, she looked down at Caleb. He would soon be asleep at her breast. He was so beautiful, so precious to her, and yet she knew the harder she clung, the more fiercely determined Atretes would be to take him from her.
When she moved Caleb slightly, his mouth worked again, almost frantically, holding to her. Touching a finger against her breast, she broke the suction. A dollop of milk trickled from his mouth and she smoothed it away. Kissing him lightly, she laid him tenderly on her thighs and retied her tunic. She could still feel Atretes watching her.
She adjusted the shawl to cover the dampened bodice of her tunic, remembering how, the moment she entered the hall and heard Caleb crying, her milk had come forth. God was truly marvelous! Lifting Caleb to her shoulder, she rubbed his back gently as she stood. She paced slowly, patting him softly. He was warm and relaxed against her. She glanced at Atretes and saw his troubled frown.
Seeing the set of his jaw, Rizpah remembered the story of King Solomon and the two women fighting over a child. The one who had been the true mother had been willing to give up the child in order to preserve his life.