As Sure as the Dawn(70)

“The same way you watch and wait for her to find fault.”

“That’s not fair!”

“It’s true,” Rizpah said gently. “One of you has to stop.”

Camella looked away again. “If I knew how, I would.”

“You’ve heard the Word of God as clearly as I have, Cam. Pray for her.”

“Easier said than done,” she said, so full of resentment there was room for nothing else.

“Empty yourself. Obedience to God is seldom a matter of ease, but it always brings blessing.” She picked Caleb up from his nap and went for a walk on the deck. It was cold. She far preferred the small tent shelter, but Camella needed time alone to think.

“Join us, Rizpah,” Rhoda said as she came near. Rizpah saw how her gaze flickered to the small shelter where her sister-in-law sat.

“I need some exercise,” Rizpah said, sensitive to Camella’s feelings. She didn’t want Cam or Rhoda thinking she was taking sides.

Agabus and Tibullus stood near the bow, talking to several passengers. Parmenas and Eunice were with Theophilus while their three children sat on the deck nearby playing a game of pick-up sticks. Niger and Bartimaeus were standing near the mast, talking together. Several soldiers sat gambling near the door to the hold. Timon and Porcia were struggling to work together and reerect their small tent shelter, which had collapsed. Mary, Benjamin, and Barnabas were nearby, playing in a coil of ropes.

Rizpah found Atretes leaning against the bulwark of the shipowner’s cabin, his arms crossed. He stared out at the southern hills, appearing not to hear a word Peter was saying to him. She debated joining them, then decided against it.

Others walked the deck. A swarthy Macedonian passed by her, and she was filled with disquiet at the way he assessed her.

Though the wind held steady, it was slow going down the Gulf of Corinth. The sun rose and fell several times before they sailed past Patrae and Araxos on the coast of Greece. Sailing out of the gulf, they headed west, passing by the southern tip of Cephalonia. Beyond lay the Ionian Sea.

One day rolled tediously into another until a ship was sighted. “It’s a two-banked hemiolia!” an officer shouted to the captain, causing general alarm to all those who were aware that such a ship was favored by pirates. “It’s heading straight for us!”

The ship, sometimes referred to as a one-and-a-halfer, was powered by rowers as well as under sail. It sped through the waters, while their own Alexandrian ship moved sluggishly, burdened by cargo and indifferent winds.

“It’s Illyrian, Captain, and coming fast!”

Passengers began to panic. Theophilus shouted for order and commanded the women and children get below.

“There’s no room!”

“Make room!”

“I was told the Roman fleet patrolled these waters!” one of the wealthy passengers shouted. “Where is it? Why aren’t they protecting us?”

“There’s a squadron out of Brundisium, but they can’t be everywhere at once. Now, move!”

Atretes watched the passengers scrambling for possessions while others ran for the portal to the ladder below. Theophilus was shouting orders. Men were cursing. Women and children were screaming. Two slaves carrying a small but obviously heavy trunk were pushing their way through the throng at the command of their master.

“Set up the catapults!” Theophilus was shouting, watching how the oars of the hemiolia rose and fell with speed and precision driving the ship through the water.

Atretes swore and looked around the deck for Rizpah.

“Peter! Where’s Peter?!” Porcia cried out as Timon pushed her and the three other children toward the portal to the cargo decks.

Atretes looked down at the boy by his side. “Go with your father!” he said.

“I want to stay with you!”

Atretes gave the boy a hard shove in the direction of Timon and ran toward Rizpah, who was standing outside her tent shelter, staring in terror at the oncoming ship. She gasped in pain as he grasped her arm and yanked her toward the door of the owner’s cabin. The hemiolia was so close, Atretes could see armed men on the main deck. “Get in there and bar the door!” he said in a voice low with fury.

Atretes knew his dagger was no match for the battle that was coming and looked for a better weapon.

“Atretes!” Theophilus shouted and tossed him a spear.

A volley of arrows zinged over the narrowing span of water between the ships, one just missing his head. Others found their marks in the passengers still trying to get below. Screams of pain and panic rent the air. The captain shouted orders.

The line of oars on one side of the hemiolia went up sharply and retracted. The ship swung hard around.