As Sure as the Dawn(88)

The blackness receded slowly. He knew he couldn’t run and he couldn’t fight, but he still could manage to do what had to be done. And he had to do it now, before they arrived at their destination and she was taken from him.

“There’s a part of you that wants to fight.” Hot tears burned his eyes and his throat closed. That part of him had made him wait just long enough to get her and Caleb killed. He swallowed hard and drew in his breath, fighting against the wave of nausea as he raised his head. “Can you loose me?”

“No. I’ve tried several times, but the chains are attached to rings in the side of the wagon. Theophilus secured them before we left the inn.”

“Didn’t anyone try to stop him from taking me?”

Rizpah bit her lip, remembering the throng of people and the shouting. She had feared a riot when Atretes was carried downstairs and out to the wagon, but Theophilus had announced that the great Atretes would fight again. No one had interfered after that. “No,” she said.

He understood all too well. The mob had what it wanted. “Help me sit up.”

“Why?”

“Don’t question me, just do it,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Why must you be so stubborn?” Rizpah said as she put her arms around him and helped him rise. His strong fingers bit into her shoulder, the weight of the chains linked between his wrists thumping hard against her. She winced. When he was sitting up, he grasped hold of the side of the wagon and pressed her back. Her heart jumped as his hand moved sluggishly up to encircle her throat.

“He’s taking us back to the ludus,” he said, his deep voice thick with emotion. His vision blurred and he fought the pain. He had to stay conscious. There was little time. “You don’t know what’s waiting for you there. I can’t let them. . . .” Breaking her neck would be quicker and less painful than strangling her. He moved his hand slightly, feeling her pulse. “Rizpah,” he said heavily, “I . . .”

Do it, he told himself, just do it and have it done.

Looking into his blue eyes, she saw his anguish and realized what he intended. Rather than be afraid, a deep compassion filled her. She touched his face tenderly. He closed his eyes as though her touch hurt. “He’s not taking us to the ludus, Atretes. I thought so, too, at first, but I know we can’t be going there.”

“Where else would he take us?” His thumb brushed the pulse in her throat. Warmth. Life. Why did he have to be the one to take it?

“We passed through the city gates.”

“The gates?”

“We’re no longer in Rome. We’re outside the city walls.”

His hand loosened. “We can’t be. The ludus—” The wagon gave a hard bounce and pain exploded in his head. Groaning, he grasped the side of the wagon more tightly, trying to hold himself up as the blackness closed in around him again.

She gave him what support she could. She had never seen his face so white and was afraid for him. “Theophilus isn’t taking you back to the ludus, Atretes.”

“Where else would he take me?”

“I don’t know.” She laid her hand against his cheek. “You must lie back.”

His vision became a long dark tunnel. “Capua,” he said with a groan, leaning back. He was too heavy for her, dragging her with him. His head banged against the floor of the wagon, and he groaned. “He’s taking me back to Capua.” He remembered the hole, the tiny cell in which the guards had locked him. There hadn’t even been room to sit up or stretch out his legs. He had been shut into darkness for days until he thought he’d go mad. “Better to be dead.”

She raised him slightly and laid his head upon her lap again. “We’re not heading south. We’re heading east.”

East?

Where was Theophilus taking them?

Rizpah dabbed the beads of perspiration from Atretes’ forehead and wished she could remove the pain as easily. “Be at peace, Atretes. We’re in God’s hands.”

He uttered a hoarse laugh and winced. “You think your god will get us out of this?”

“God has plans for our welfare. He will give us a future and a hope.”

“Hope,” he said bitterly. “What hope is there in this wagon?”

“All things work together for good to those who believe.”

“I don’t believe in anything.”

“I do, and whether you do or not, we’ve both been called to his purpose.”

The woman’s tenacious faith defied all logic. “I’m in chains again, you and the babe with me. There’s only one purpose in that.”