“The sight upset my wife.”
“Did you see anyone suspicious?” the soldier said, coming closer, studying him.
“I didn’t linger long enough to look around. My apologies, but my one thought is to get my wife and son to safety.”
“We’ll see you to the city gates.”
Atretes hesitated only for an instant. “I’m sure my wife will appreciate the reinforcement,” he said in a tone that gave nothing of his feelings away. He looked at her and the cold humor in his expression shocked her.
The two soldiers rode on either side of them. Rizpah wondered if the one riding closest to her could see how she was shaking. Atretes slid his hand down and took hers. The strength of his grasp was clear warning to keep silent. The soldier beside Atretes asked where they had come from, and Atretes named a village some distance from Ephesus. “We’ve come to pay homage to the goddess, Artemis.”
The city gates loomed ahead. “You’ll be safe enough from here,” the soldier said.
“Our thanks to you,” Atretes said with a deep bow, the mockery lost upon the guards. The soldiers swung their horses around and started east again. “Roman scum,” Atretes said and spit on the ground.
Swinging around, he led Rizpah through the darkened alleyways of the city. She didn’t question him, too burdened with her own tormented thoughts. There was a quicker way to the harbor, but she wasn’t in a hurry to board a ship with Atretes. Was it really God’s will that she be with this man?
When they finally reached the docks, she was physically exhausted. “Which ship?” Atretes said, speaking the first words that had been uttered between them in hours.
“One with Poseidon on the prow.”
They walked along the docks looking for it amidst the confusion of men loading and unloading ships.
“There,” Atretes said, pointing it out to her. It was much like the vessel that had brought him to Ephesus.
“There’s John,” Rizpah said, feeling relief so acute she wanted to run to the apostle. Atretes caught hold of her arm and stopped her from doing so.
“Say nothing of what happened. Put it from your mind.”
“Put it from my mind? How?”
“I told you to go on. Do you remember? I didn’t mean for you to watch.”
“Not seeing would have made it all right?” She tried to escape his grasp, but his fingers tightened. “Let go of me.”
“Not until you swear to me.”
“I swear no oath to anyone.” She turned her face away, the image of Gallus lying in the road permanently etched in her mind. “I wish I hadn’t looked back.” She looked up at him again, angry and grieving. “I wish I hadn’t seen what you’re capable of doing to another human being.”
“You’ve only seen part of it,” he said through his teeth.
She felt cold. One minute, Gallus had been standing alive in the road. The next, he was lying dead in the dust. There had been no great struggle. No shouting. No cursing. No accusations or defenses. “I’ve never witnessed anything so blood-chilling in my life, even when I was living in the streets. You haven’t an ounce of mercy in you!”
“No mercy?” Something flickered in his eyes and then they went dead again. “I could’ve broken every bone in his body and then dispatched him to Hades where he belongs. As it was, I killed him in the quickest way I knew how.” Two short, swift punches. “He hardly felt anything.”
“And now he’s lost.”
“Lost? He was found out. Woman, he deserved to die.”
“Lost for all eternity.”
“Like a thousand others. Like you and Caleb and me if he’d lived.”
“Not like him,” she said. “You don’t even know what I’m talking about. You don’t even know what you’ve done!”
His face was cold with disgust. “You cry for him?”
“He was unsaved and now he’s dead. Yes, I cry for him. You murdered him without offering him the least chance.”
“Chance to do what? Betray me again? I didn’t murder him. I executed him. Had I let him live, I’d have forfeited my freedom and life as well as that of my own son. Should I have let him live? May his bones rot!”
“We could’ve left without him knowing.”
“He’d already passed information to Gaius. How far do you think we’d have gotten if Sertes had gotten that information? Where do you think Caleb would be right now?”
The blood drained from her face as she realized where he had gone early in the evening and what he had done. Not one but two men were dead because she had spoken. “God, forgive me,” she said, covering her face. “O God, forgive me. I should’ve told you nothing.”