Laying it carefully aside, she finished the work in the garden and then put the hoe away. She toted water and heated it for washing. Setting out a few wooden toys Atretes had carved for Caleb, she left him to play while she went into one of the clean stalls to wash. When she finished, she donned the long under tunic. Leaving her own worn outer tunic draped over the wall, she drew on the one Helda had made for her. Tying her belt, she gathered the soiled work tunic to wash.
Varus returned before Atretes or Freyja. He put the horses in their stalls and then herded the cattle into the area at the back. One of his Tencteri slaves remained to fill the mangers with feed while he limped down the corridor and opened the gate to the living quarters.
Rizpah greeted him warmly. Her serenity never failed to irritate him. She continued stirring the thick porridge of beans, corn, lentils, and chunks of salted venison. The rich aroma made his mouth water and his resentment rose even higher. Crossing the room, he sat down on his chair, stifling a groan as he stretched out his bad leg. Atretes was off hunting again, he supposed. He rubbed his leg and winced as pain licked up his thigh into his hip. Hunting was one of many pleasures he could no longer enjoy.
Rizpah poured mead and brought it to him, knowing the strong drink would ease his pain. Varus’ eyes flickered to her face and then down over her as he took the horn and drained it. She returned to the cook fire.
Wiping the froth from his mouth with the back of his hand, Varus studied her with a frown. “Where’d you get that garment?”
She was surprised he had addressed her, but before she could answer, Freyja opened the front door and entered.
“She said she’s been having the dreams for two days,” Anomia said, entering just behind her.
“Did you give her an amber amulet to wear?” Freyja said with a quick smile of greeting to Varus and Rizpah. Caleb forgot his toys and came to her, having long since lost his shyness where his grandmother was concerned.
“I gave my last piece of amber to Reka,” Anomia lied, not wanting Freyja to know she had traded for mandrake and belladonna. Freyja bent to pick up her grandson and kissed him.
Annoyed that a child usurped her attention, Anomia glanced balefully at Rizpah. She froze, fury rising in her like a hot geyser. “Where did you get that tunic?”
Rizpah looked between Varus and Anomia. Neither of them ever spoke to her and the fact that they had meant something was wrong.
When Freyja turned and looked at her, her eyes widened as they swept over her.
Straightening, Rizpah touched the neckline of the outer garment. “One of the women gave it to me,” she said, wary at revealing Helda’s identity.
Anomia stepped forward, fingers curling into fists at her side. “What woman would dare give you such a garment?”
Rizpah lowered her hands to her sides. “It was a gift.”
Anomia’s eyes flashed. “From whom?”
Rizpah said nothing. Freyja set Caleb down and straightened. Anomia took a step forward. “Answer me!”
“What do you mean to do?”
“That’s none of your concern! Now tell me!”
Freyja put her hand out for silence. “I doubt any offense was meant by the gift.”
“Tiwaz will take offense,” Anomia said, trying to regain control. The hot blood pumped through her veins until it was all she could do to curb the rage filling her. This foreigner had no right to such a garment! If anyone was entitled, it was she, not this interloper!
Varus stared at Anomia, glimpsing for the first time the rabid nature hidden beneath the seductively beautiful face and body. Revulsion and fear filled him.
“Tell me who it was!” Anomia said, her voice low and trembling.
Rizpah remained calm, disquieted but not afraid. “Someone who was showing me a kindness.”
“Kindness! It’s blasphemy!”
Surprised at the accusation and not understanding it, Rizpah put a hand against her heart. She looked down over the garment she wore in confusion. “What do you mean?” She looked at Freyja for explanation.
“Take it off!” Anomia screamed, teeth bared.
Rizpah looked at her, repulsed by her arrogance. It was pride and jealousy that burned in her blue eyes. Simple, childish jealousy.
“Do as she says,” Freyja said quietly, greatly disturbed. “Please.”
Dismayed, Rizpah removed the outer garment. Folding it with care, she held it out to Freyja. Before she could take it, Anomia snatched it away and flung it into the fire.
Rizpah gasped. “How could you burn anything so lovely?”
“You have no right to it!”
“And Mother Freyja did not? I’m sure the woman who gave it to me would have been delighted for her to have it rather than to have it so heedlessly destroyed in a fit of childish temper.”