As Sure as the Dawn(177)

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Rizpah uttered a surprised sigh as the girl walked into Rolf’s grubenhaus without a word of encouragement.

Rolf stared after her. Saying something under his breath, he took a step to follow and remembered Atretes. “I’ll . . .”

“You owe no debt. The oxen and horse are gifts.” His mouth tipped. “Treat the girl gently, lest my wife take her from you again.”

Rolf glanced at Rizpah, his eyes glowing. Tucking the dagger into his belt, he went inside the house he had built for his captive bride.

Atretes took Rizpah’s hand and turned her firmly toward the village. “She’s his wife now. Considering the way he looked at her, I don’t think you need worry he’ll abuse her.”

“Will the Hermunduri come?”

Atretes considered the possibility and shook his head. “I don’t think so. If they’d cared about the girl at all, they would’ve hunted Rolf down long before he reached us.”

His mother came to meet them. “Is everything settled?”

Atretes grinned. “Well settled.”

They walked back toward the longhouse together. Freyja saw Anomia and thought to relieve her with the good news. “I’ll follow along shortly.” Smiling, she approached the young priestess. “Rizpah returned the girl to Rolf. He’s married her.”

“Married her? How can he with nothing to his name?”

“Atretes gave them what they needed. It’s done.”

“The Hermunduri will come.”

“Atretes doesn’t think so. Helana’s father and mother are both dead.”

Anomia’s plan to rouse the warriors from their winter lethargy disintegrated with her words. Freyja touched her shoulder in a gesture of assurance. “I’ll tell the others we need not worry.”

Anomia fumed silently, hiding her feelings as best she could. The plan had developed in her mind when the young warrior had come to her lovesick and wanting a spell cast to make the girl of his passionate reverie reciprocate his yearning. She had been well pleased with herself when she fired Rolf’s lust enough for him to throw caution to the winds and go after the girl he wanted. From his description, she had been sure the girl had to be the daughter of a chief. Instead, Rolf brought back a common village maid, pretty, but not important enough to cause a war.

Her bitter anger grew when Holt and several others passed by, paying her no attention and talking of the Ionian. “I’m beginning to see what Atretes finds so intriguing about the Ionian.” It was a bad sign that it was Holt speaking.

Varus wasn’t bothered by the loss of the oxen and horse and even declined Atretes’ offer of another section of land to compensate. And though Freyja said no more about the incident, it was clear to Anomia as well as others that the high priestess was looking upon her son’s foreign wife with growing warmth and curiosity.

Anomia watched Rizpah do her usual chores. The woman seemed unaware of the effect her kindness to the Hermunduri had had upon the villagers, but Anomia knew and writhed inwardly with jealousy. Out of Anomia’s heart flowed evil thoughts. A raging river of them raced through her blood. She coveted Atretes, desiring him with an intensity that shook her with burning envy and sensuality. She despised Rizpah, relishing thoughts of harming her, devising schemes to destroy her. For now, she could do nothing.

But a time would come.





46


Several days passed during which Rizpah felt the subtle change in the villagers’ attitude toward her. Some greeted her, though they didn’t linger to talk. She even found Varus studying her at odd times during the evening.

The men went out hunting, and Rizpah set herself to the task of cleaning out several stalls and taking the manure out to the garden behind the longhouse. Caleb followed her, playing on a patch of grass while she hoed the manure into the soil around the bean plants. She said a psalm of praise and worship that Theophilus had helped her memorize. The joy of the Lord filled her as she repeated the words again and again, the richness of the promises making her heart sing.

“Lady Rizpah?”

Startled, Rizpah turned, brushing a few damp tendrils of dark hair back from her forehead. Helda stood a few feet away at the edge of the garden. None of the women had ever sought her out before. Rizpah smiled and gave her a simple greeting.

Helda approached her shyly. “I made this for you,” she said and held out a pile of folded cloth in both hands.

Laying the hoe aside, Rizpah brushed off her hands before accepting the gift. “Thank you,” she said, mystified.

“It’s a tunic to replace the one you gave the Hermunduri girl,” Helda said. “It would’ve made things easier had someone been so kind to me.” She gave a dip of respect and left quickly. Rizpah loosened the folds carefully and gave a soft exclamation of pleasure. The handwoven linen outer garment was ornamented with a lovely pattern of purple. She had never possessed anything so lovely.