As Sure as the Dawn(69)

“The next time you speak with him, tell him if he touches you again, I’ll kill him.” With those words, he strode out the gate, heading in the opposite direction of Theophilus.

Rizpah heard him pound on the locked gate long after dark. The proprietor let him in and she rose slightly, watching him cross the compound to his booth. He walked unsteadily and fell into the hay. She lay back, heart pounding in disquiet.

The next morning, as she knelt with the others in prayer, he rose and left the inn. Others noticed as well.

“Would you like to go with us to the marketplace?” Porcia said.

She declined, forcing a smile and confidence she was far from feeling. Had Atretes gone out to drink again? She prayed not. If he returned without having taken care of his responsibilities, then she would decide what was best to do.

She played with Caleb until he fell asleep and then lay down beside him in a beam of sunlight. The warmth felt good. She traced Caleb’s features lovingly, marveling at his perfection. Curling herself around him, she fell asleep with an inexplicable assurance that all would be well if she left Atretes and herself in God’s hands.

* * *

When Atretes returned, he found Rizpah asleep in the straw, his son snuggled against her. He stood for a long time just looking at her. It was a luxury he seldom was afforded. He wanted her in ways beyond the physical, ways he couldn’t even understand, and that fact filled him with unease. His weakness for dark-haired, dark-eyed beauties made him wary of this woman; he had the heavy premonition that she could cut his heart into smaller pieces than Julia ever had.

Annoyed, he put his burdens down. The thud and rustle of hay awakened Rizpah. Her brown eyes were cloudy as she sat up and brushed away curling strands of dark hair with the back of her hand. “You’re back,” she said and smiled.

His blood warmed even as his defenses rose. “Take a look and make sure we have all we need,” he said tersely.

Rizpah wondered how one man could remain angry so long over a trifle. She wanted to say something about Theophilus, but knew it would do no good. Atretes would choose to think what he wanted and protestations from her would only serve to make matters worse.

Atretes crouched down and watched as she opened a sack and sifted her fingers into a mixture of dried lentils, corn, beans, and barley. He had purchased dried fruit and some dried meat as well. She picked another pouch. “Salt,” he said. “That amphora contains olive oil. The other, honey.” He lifted the full skins from his shoulders and set them down more carefully than he had the others. “Wine. Watered, so it’ll last at least a week.”

She lifted her head and looked at him, her expression full of light. She was so lovely, his heart jumped. “You’ve done well,” she said and her simple statement of praise broke through the barriers he had painstakingly erected around his heart. Yet as the tender emotions swelled, so too did his inner cry of alarm.

Retreating into his fortress of anger, he glared down at her. “And that surprises you,” he said with biting sarcasm. “Do not doubt this, woman. I will get my son to Germania by my own resources and without help!”

Stunned and hurt, Rizpah watched him walk away and wondered what on earth she had done wrong now.





15


They boarded the Alexandrian freighter during the predawn hours. There were more passengers this time, one hundred fifty-nine in all, and deck space was precious. Several wealthy passengers had sent servants ahead, and they had set elaborate shelters and prepared beds for their masters, leaving little room for others who had wives and children.

Small sturdy crafts powered by half a dozen oarsmen attached lines and towed the ship from dockside into the deeper waters of the Gulf of Corinth. For two hours they sat becalmed, and then the wind came up. The sails flapped and filled, and the ship sailed down the wide passage toward Actium and the Mediterranean.

Camella was quiet and pensive as she watched her daughter talking with Rhoda.

“They’re very fond of one another,” Rizpah said, observing them as well.

“Rhoda’s never done anything to hurt Lysia. It’s only me she tries to hurt.”

“As you do her.”

Camella glanced at her sharply, feeling the gentle reprimand. “She succeeds.”

“So do you. You’re both very capable in that regard. It’s painful to hear, even more painful to watch.”

Camella grimaced and drew her blanket around herself. She leaned back, staring up at the sail. “I don’t know why we say the things we do,” she said wearily. “I don’t even remember when it started. Sometimes just the way she looks at me makes me want to slap her face.” She looked at Rizpah. “I made a mistake. I know it. I don’t have to be reminded of it all the time. She’s always watching me and waiting for me to do something wrong.”