As Sure as the Dawn(89)

She ran her fingers slowly across his brow and smiled down at him. “God has seen me through worse situations than this.”

He opened his eyes and looked up at her. Was she talking about the night they had left the Ephesian villa? Was she referring to the battle on the Alexandrian ship? “God’s gotten you out of nothing. I got you out.” He closed his eyes against the piercing glare and wondered how she could be at peace in these circumstances. What could possibly sustain her so? “And I’ll get us out of this, too. Somehow.”

“You haven’t gotten us out of anything. You’re always running to trouble, not away from it.”

He glared up at her, affronted. “You think your god is the one protecting you?”

“I know he is.”

He gave a hoarse laugh. “Who saved you from Sertes? Who saved you from the Macedonian?”

“Who saved you from death countless times? Is it by accident or design that you’re alive now?”

“I saved myself.” A frown crossed his forehead briefly as he remembered Theophilus blocking a sword thrust. His efforts then were negated by his actions now.

“Has there never been anyone who has stood between you and death?”

“When it served their purposes.” How much would the Roman get when he was delivered to Domitian?

“God will rescue us again.”

“Don’t put your hope in a god you can’t see and who let his son be crucified. What good was he to Hadassah?”

“It’s because of God’s Son that I do have hope. All my hope rests in him.” Her fingers lightly combed the hair back from his forehead and temples. “Even my hope for you.”

His head ached too much to argue with her or even think more deeply on what she said.

Atretes heard horses galloping toward them from behind. The sound of their beating hooves on the heavy stones of the Roman road reverberated in his aching skull. He knew they were Roman soldiers by the jangling of their brass-studded belts.

“No one is following,” a man said.

“That way,” he heard Theophilus command, and the wagon gave a hard bounce as it left the road. Atretes let out a groan, spots of color bursting behind his closed eyes. He wanted the darkness, the oblivion in which there was no pain, no torturous thoughts of what lay ahead. Neither came.

They traveled a long time over softer ground. He knew they were well off the main road.

Theophilus spoke occasionally, but the words were indistinct. When they stopped, the Roman came close. “Keep watch while I get him out of the wagon.”

Atretes heard the chains released and felt them pulled through the rings on his ankles.

“We’re at the hypogeum of Gaudentius Servera Novatian. His great-granddaughter, the Lady Alphina, is a Christian,” Theophilus said, tossing the chains and removing the manacles. “Sorry I hit you so hard, my friend.” He took Atretes by the arm and pulled him up easily. “I had no time to explain.” He looped Atretes’ arm around his shoulder. “Not that you would’ve listened.”

Atretes muttered something under his breath, and Theophilus grinned as he bore the burden of the German’s weight against his side. “Instead of cursing me in German, you could say thanks in Greek.”

“We thought you were taking him back to the ludus,” Rizpah said, ashamed for having doubted him.

“So did everyone else at the inn,” Theophilus said, helping Atretes down the ramp that had been lowered from the back of the wagon. “That’s why there wasn’t a riot. All of Rome would like to see this stubborn fool back in the arena.”

She took up the basket in which Caleb slept. Two men came running from what appeared to be a mausoleum. Theophilus gave Atretes over to their care and returned to his men. “Apuleius, my friend. I thank you.” He clasped arms with him. “Give Domitian no opportunity to question you. Do not return to the praetorian.” He took a small scroll from inside his chest armor. “Take this and ride to Tarentum. Give it to Justus Minor, no one else.” Theophilus slapped his shoulder. “Now, go.”

The soldier said something under his breath and handed him a pouch before he mounted his horse. He stretched out his hand in salute. “May God protect you, my lord.” The others followed suit.

“And you, my friends. God be with you.”

Apuleius swung his horse around and galloped across the field toward the main road, the others falling in behind him.

Rizpah set Caleb down in his basket and went to Theophilus. Tears blurring her eyes, she went down on her knees and put her hands on his feet. “Forgive me,” she said, weeping. “I shouldn’t have doubted you.”