Reading Online Novel

As Sure as the Dawn(67)



Atretes reclined in the fresh straw and sat Caleb beside him. Caleb immediately flopped over and tried to eat a handful of dried grass.

“No, no,” she said and stepped over quickly. Kneeling, she sat him up and plucked pieces from his mouth. “No, Caleb,” she said firmly when he tried to eat more. Removing her shawl, she spread it and set him on it. Uttering a sharp squeal, Caleb flapped his arms like a bird wanting to take flight and dove forward again.

Atretes chuckled. “It’s nice to know my son won’t lie back and let a woman tell him what to do.”

“I don’t want him grazing,” Rizpah said in annoyance and sat down close to Caleb, watching over him lest he stuff straw into his mouth again. He arched his back and rocked on his stomach, making funny noises. Tucking his legs under, he pushed himself up with his hands. “He’ll be crawling soon,” she said.

Atretes studied her. She had put up walls since their encounter in the fanum. “If I were a civilized man, I suppose I’d apologize for . . .”

“It’s forgotten, Atretes.”

His mouth tipped. “I can see how forgotten it is,” he said, admiring the color filling her cheeks.

His sultry look unnerved her. Rather than retreat, she spoke what was on her mind. “Why were you angry with Agabus and the others?”

A muscle jerked in his jaw. He leaned back against the partition wall. “They’re fools.”

Though he looked physically relaxed, she felt his coiled tension and the anger building in him. It was a constant presence, just beneath the surface. The lightest stirring wind was enough to roll in the highest tide. He turned his head and looked at her, his blue eyes as beautiful as they were frightening. “For all their grandiose claims, they have about as much faith in your god as I have,” he said. “None!”

She was deeply troubled by his observation. “They’re struggling against the bonds of this life, like all the rest of us.”

“They don’t believe what they preach, and I’m sick of listening to them talk endlessly about this god of yours. They talk about death having no hold over them.” He gave a dark laugh. “All I had to do was touch one of them to show the hold it has.”

“Agabus dropped his hands because he didn’t want to fight with you.”

“He dropped his hands because he was afraid I’d kill him. I wanted him to know his faith isn’t a shield against anything.”

“Faith is all we have.”

“If that’s so, what kept me alive? I have no faith.”

“You live by faith just as we do, Atretes.”

“I don’t believe in the old gods anymore, nor will I ever hold to yours!”

She refused to be intimidated by his wrath. “We all live by faith in this world, faith in something. Your faith lies in yourself. Don’t you see? You think because you survived ten years in the arena you can go on surviving in the same way, with brute strength and a sword. Agabus and the others have chosen to believe in a power greater than themselves. Even when our faith is weak, God is our strength.”

He gave a dry laugh and looked out at the courtyard where others gathered in warmer camaraderie. He was free, and yet he still felt as though he had his back against a wall. Rizpah looked at his stony face and was saddened.

Why can’t I reach him, Father? Why does he refuse to listen?

“Atretes, someday, everything you’ve learned will be of no use to you.”

His expression was sardonic. “And you think the words they commit to memory will keep them alive?”

“God’s words will always prove true and right, no matter who questions them.”

Atretes saw in her what he had seen in Hadassah the night she spoke with him in the lower-level dungeons. She had far more fire than the slave girl, more passion, but they shared a common peace. Despite circumstance. It was the kind of peace he hungered for and knew he could never have. “At least you believe what you say.”

“So do they, Atretes, but they’re young and untried.”

“They’ll be tried,” he said heavily, “tried and then crucified.”

She was silent for a long moment, his words preying heavily on her heart. “Perhaps you’re right. They might die like so many others have. But you don’t understand the fullness of it, Atretes, or the rightness of it. Whatever comes, they will not be lost.”

His eyes narrowed. “And you think I am.”

She looked him straight in the eyes. “Yes.”

Her bluntness always surprised him. He smiled in wry amusement, but his eyes were cold. “Geographically.”

Tangled in the shawl, Caleb cried loudly. Rizpah picked him up and sat him on her lap. She unwound the shawl from around him. When his legs were free, he kicked, wanting to be put down again. Spreading the shawl, she kissed Caleb’s neck and put him back on his stomach. He pushed himself up and gave a gurgling laugh. Smiling faintly, Atretes watched his son.