As Sure as the Dawn(54)

She had been gone only moments when Atretes appeared. She knew by his expression something was terribly wrong. “We’ve got to get off this ship.”

“Why?” she said.

“Feed him later,” Atretes said, looking back. “A Roman centurion just came aboard with six soldiers.”

“Oh, Lord.”

“Move, woman.”

“If I stop nursing him, he’ll scream, and that’ll only draw attention to us,” she said quickly. “Sit down beside me.”

He stiffened and she heard the sound of hobnailed sandals approaching. Atretes turned slowly and he looked ready to do battle. She grabbed the hem of his tunic as she saw the soldiers. The leader was speaking with Parmenas and the others.

“Do nothing,” she said, rising quickly. Caleb cried when she stopped feeding him. Her heart was hammering wildly. “Please. Wait.”

“We’ve been betrayed,” Atretes said as the centurion turned and looked straight at him. Rizpah had never seen such a look of fear and rage in Atretes’ face. “They won’t take me alive this time.”

“Atretes, don’t!” she said, reaching out to stop him.

He shoved her out of his way, heedless of the fact that she held a baby in her arms. She lost her balance and fell heavily against the mast. Caleb screamed. Clutching him protectively, she found her feet again, “No!”

The centurion dodged Atretes’ fist, turned sharply, and made a hard sweep with one leg. Atretes jumped back. His foot tangled in a coil of rope and he went crashing down onto the deck. Before he hit, the Roman soldier had his gladius out and pointed at Atretes’ throat.

“Don’t kill him!” Rizpah said in anguish. “Please!”

The Roman centurion stood motionless, poised and ready. He was as tall and as strongly built as Atretes. “I didn’t come to kill him,” he said gruffly.

Atretes felt the tip of the blade lift from his skin. The centurion stepped back and sheathed his gladius in a smooth, liquid movement that bespoke many years of experience. “My apologies, Atretes. A reflex action.” He held out his hand to assist him to his feet.

Ignoring it, Atretes rose on his own.

“Stand at ease,” the centurion said. He removed his helmet and tucked it under his arm. He was a distinguished looking man with hair graying at the temples and a face deeply tanned and lined. “My name is Theophilus,” he said to Rizpah and Atretes. Then his eyes met Atretes’ angry glare, and a faint smile curved his mouth. “I’ve come to show you the way home.”





12


A hand squeezed Atretes’ shoulder, rousing him from sleep. Above him, the square sail billowed, driving the ship before the wind.

“Will you join us for worship this morning, brother?”

Atretes opened one bleary eye and swore at young Bartimaeus, who stood over him. “I’m not your brother, boy. And if you wake me again, I swear I’ll break every bone in your hand.”

Bartimaeus withdrew.

Atretes pulled the heavy blanket over his head, blotting out the starlight and cold wind.

“Is he coming this time?” Tibullus asked.

“No.”

“We won’t give up on him,” Agabus said. “Men more stubborn than Atretes have come to know the Lord.”

“He said he’d break my hand the next time I woke him up. I think he really would.”

“Then we’ll get a pole and prod him at a safe distance,” Tibullus said with an amused laugh. Pushing back the blanket, Atretes sat up. One look at his face and the three young men crossed the deck to where the others were waiting. Muttering curses under his breath, Atretes relaxed back, relieved for the moment of their irritating presence. They had stayed up most of the night talking about their dream of carrying the “good news to a dying world.” What good news? And what dying world? Not much of what they said made any sense. But then, why should it? Their religion made no sense. Their god made no sense. Any deity with power would avenge the murder of his son, not forgive and adopt those who had done it.

Women spoke nearby. Caleb began crying. Flipping the blanket off, Atretes sat up again, but the crying stopped. He could tell by her position, that Rizpah was nursing his son. The babe was content against the warmth of her breast, his hunger answered. Atretes lay back, stilling his own frustration.

The woman’s attitude toward him disturbed him. He couldn’t stop thinking about her and wanting to explain why he had killed Gallus and Sertes’ spy. He wanted her to understand. As it was, she seemed to keep her distance.

He had been furious upon meeting Theophilus and thought Rizpah had known the man was a centurion beforehand. She had insisted she had known only that he was Roman. Grudgingly, he believed her, but it hadn’t improved matters between them. She far preferred the company of her religious friends than him.