As Sure as the Dawn (19 page)

“The Lord will be with you wherever you go, beloved,” John said gently.

“Give me the boy,” Atretes said, holding out his hands.

Rizpah wanted to hold Caleb closer, but relinquished the sleeping baby to set Atretes’ mind at rest.

Babe in arms, Atretes looked at the apostle. “My thanks,” he said gruffly. “I never expected to receive help from you.”

John smiled. “The Lord uses unexpected ways and means to rescue his people.”

“But then I’m not one of his people, am I?” His gaze flickered to Rizpah, then he stepped onto the gangplank and left them standing on the dock.

“I think he’s hoping I’ll stay here,” Rizpah said. “Perhaps I should.”

“He took Caleb to make sure you didn’t.”

Rizpah looked up at the apostle, all her fear and misgivings showing. “Oh, John, I don’t know if this venture is God’s will or Atretes’. I’ve never known a man with a darker soul.” It was on her tongue to blurt out what Atretes had done, but she kept silent. It wasn’t her right to reveal another’s secret.
“Their blood is on my head . . . as is the blood of better men I killed before them.”
His angry words had been filled with anguish.

Her heart cried out a desperate, silent prayer, for she realized she ached more for him than for the two men he had killed. Was she already sinking into a mire? Would her growing attraction to Atretes be the undoing of her faith in Christ?

“Stand firm, beloved,” John said gently. “We ourselves were once deceived. We were no different than he is now. We lived in disobedience, hateful and hating. Stand firm in the truth. Christ has redeemed us from every lawless deed and purified us for his good purpose.”

“But Atretes . . .”

“Is anything too difficult for God?”

“No,” she said because she knew it was the expected answer.

“Let the light of Christ so shine in you that Atretes will see your good works and glorify Christ Jesus. In all things show yourself to be a pattern for him. To the pure, Rizpah, all things are pure. As you are pure in Christ. Speak of these things to him. Speak of the things that will edify and light his way out of darkness.”

“I will try.”

“Don’t try. Do it.” He smiled, full of confidence. “Love him as Christ loved you, beloved. Bear Atretes’ burdens. The Lord will finish the good work he’s begun in you.” Seeing her tears, he cupped her face. “Know the presence of the Holy Spirit is in you at all times. Yield to him. God will show you the way.” He kissed her forehead. “And I will pray for you.”

She smiled tremulously. “I shall need and be thankful for every prayer you utter.” She embraced him, clinging to him briefly before she let go. Embarrassed by her weak faith, she took his hand and kissed it before she turned away.

As she went up the gangplank, she saw Atretes above her. How long had he been standing there, waiting? Holding Caleb in the crook of one arm, he held his hand out to her. Hesitantly, she took it. His fingers closed firmly around hers as he gave her support down the steps onto the deck of the ship. His expression was veiled, his mouth hard.

“I didn’t say anything,” she said. “What happened is between you and me and God.” Surprised, she felt his grip relax as though her words had relieved his troubled thoughts. The muscles in his face eased as well, making him look less wary and distant.

“Do you want to take him back?” Atretes said, shifting so she could retrieve the baby from his arms if she chose to do so.

She recognized the peace offering and offered her own. “He looks content in his father’s arms.”

Atretes looked into her eyes then. It was a full look that made her pulse jump and her face fill with heat. Disturbed by it, she looked away.

John was on the dock below. She drew comfort from his presence, for he had always offered safety and godly wisdom. Now, he was leaving, milling his way through the workers toward the streets of Ephesus. Watching John disappear among the crowd, she felt utterly alone and frightened.

“If I can learn to trust you, maybe you could learn to trust me,” Atretes said wryly.

One of the ship’s officers approached and demanded their passage papers.

“Rizpah!” Porcia said, coming to her in relief. “I was so afraid you wouldn’t come in time. The ship is due to sail in a few hours.”

Rizpah embraced the woman briefly before introducing Atretes. Smiling, Porcia looked up at him. “We are pleased to count you among our members,” she said, but her words and smile died. Atretes looked down at her without expression, his blue eyes unblinking. Rizpah could feel Porcia’s rising misgivings.

“There are only fifty-seven passengers on the ship, so we’ll have plenty of space,” Porcia said as others approached, greeting them. Everyone was clearly interested in Atretes, but he responded not at all. He stood, his son in his arms, silent, grim, and forbidding. He looked around once, as though eager to escape, whether from the ship or the people, Rizpah wasn’t sure.

“We didn’t have time to bring anything,” Rizpah said.

“John and Cleopas gave us bedding and supplies for you,” Parmenas said.

“Are there many other passengers besides us?”

“About twenty-five to thirty. A few Illyrians and the rest Macedonians,” Mnason said. “The ship’s loaded with expensive cargo destined for Corinth. You can smell the spices from Sheba. The crates the stevedores are loading now are full of purple fabric from Kilmad and the finest embroidered linens from Aram.”

“There are rugs from Canneh as well,” Timon said.

Mnason laughed. “Do you suppose the captain would allow us to unroll a few?”

“Has everyone in our party arrived?” Rizpah said.

“We’re short one member,” Prochorus said.

“Theophilus,” Porcia said, her brow furrowed as she glanced toward the stairs. “What do you suppose is delaying him?”

“Be at ease, Porcia,” Timon said, soothing his wife.

“The ship won’t wait for him.”

“John said he’d come and he’ll come, though I suppose, if he doesn’t make it, he’ll be safer than any of the rest of us here in Ephesus. The city clerk is a personal friend.”

Atretes’ eyes narrowed. “Who is this Theophilus of whom you speak?”

Rizpah put her hand lightly on his arm. “He’s the man who’s agreed to show us the way to Germania,” Rizpah said.

His gaze swept the others and he jerked his chin at her. “We should find a place for ourselves.”

“You can join us, Atretes,” Tibullus said, his youthful face warm and friendly. “The crew showed us a place where we can set up a tent to protect us from the winds.”

“I remain with Rizpah and my son.”

Rizpah’s face flooded with heat. The others stood around them, silent, shocked. Had he no thought of what the others might misconstrue about their relationship? What was he thinking? Or perhaps he knew exactly what he was about. “I’ll be with the women, Atretes.”

His mouth tipped sardonically. “A wife’s place is beside her husband.”

Her face flamed. “I’m not your wife.”

“No, you’re not, but I assume these women are traveling with
their
husbands and I highly doubt they’d appreciate your intrusive company.”

An embarrassed silence followed as everyone seemed unable to think of anything to say. Too angry to speak herself, she wondered if he meant to make matters worse for her.

Camella pressed forward between Prochorus and Timon. “I heard what you said, Atretes, and you’re quite right. Rizpah, I’m traveling with my brother and his wife, and I’m sure they would appreciate it very much if
my
intrusive company was removed from their midst.” She smiled at Rizpah. “I’d be delighted if you joined me and my daughter Lysia. Come. I’ll show you where we’ve put our things.”

“Thank you,” Rizpah breathed in relief, eager to depart.

“Bartimaeus and the others aren’t far away,” Rhoda said, and Camella’s eyes flickered slightly. Rizpah sensed Rhoda’s remark was made less to reassure Atretes than to suggest impropriety on the part of her sister-in-law.

“If you’d prefer we remain with you, we’ll do so,” Camella said, ignoring Rhoda and speaking directly to her brother.

The poor man looked harassed. “Do as suits you best, Camella.”

“By all means, do as suits
you
best,” Rhoda said under her breath and turned away.

Caleb began to fuss. “Take him,” Atretes said, dumping him in her arms.

Rizpah followed Camella. Crew members paused to grin at them.

“Atretes isn’t a Christian, is he?” Camella said, ignoring a sailor who made a comment to her as she passed.

“No, he’s not,” Rizpah said bleakly.

“Not that we’re behaving as Christians ought,” Camella said. She smiled apologetically. “Do you suppose it was the tension between Rhoda and me that made him so eager to leave?”

“I don’t think so.” She doubted Atretes cared. “It’s been a difficult night.” She shuddered in memory of it. She glanced back and saw Atretes had separated himself from the others. Was he thinking over what he had done tonight? Did he feel guilt or remorse? He had said he didn’t, but there had been anguish in the angry words he had spoken to her on the dark road to Ephesus.

O Jesus, please, let him feel the repentance that leads to salvation. Search me, Lord, and cleanse me. Let me be a tool in your hands and not a slave to my weaknesses.

Caleb squirmed in her arms and let out a wail of discontent. “Let me get my things,” Camella said, pausing to take bedding and supplies from a pile stacked against the inner wall of the deck. “There is room over there, near the mast and those barrels.” She glanced at the babe in Rizpah’s arms. “He sounds hungry. You feed him while I go and find the blankets John left for you. Atretes can take care of himself.”

She had been gone only moments when Atretes appeared. She knew by his expression something was terribly wrong. “We’ve got to get off this ship.”

“Why?” she said.

“Feed him later,” Atretes said, looking back. “A Roman centurion just came aboard with six soldiers.”

“Oh, Lord.”

“Move,
woman.”

“If I stop nursing him, he’ll scream, and that’ll only draw attention to us,” she said quickly. “Sit down beside me.”

He stiffened and she heard the sound of hobnailed sandals approaching. Atretes turned slowly and he looked ready to do battle. She grabbed the hem of his tunic as she saw the soldiers. The leader was speaking with Parmenas and the others.

“Do nothing,” she said, rising quickly. Caleb cried when she stopped feeding him. Her heart was hammering wildly. “Please.
Wait.”

“We’ve been betrayed,” Atretes said as the centurion turned and looked straight at him. Rizpah had never seen such a look of fear and rage in Atretes’ face. “They won’t take me alive this time.”

“Atretes, don’t!” she said, reaching out to stop him.

He shoved her out of his way, heedless of the fact that she held a baby in her arms. She lost her balance and fell heavily against the mast. Caleb screamed. Clutching him protectively, she found her feet again, “No!”

The centurion dodged Atretes’ fist, turned sharply, and made a hard sweep with one leg. Atretes jumped back. His foot tangled in a coil of rope and he went crashing down onto the deck. Before he hit, the Roman soldier had his
gladius
out and pointed at Atretes’ throat.

“Don’t kill him!” Rizpah said in anguish. “Please!”

The Roman centurion stood motionless, poised and ready. He was as tall and as strongly built as Atretes. “I didn’t come to kill him,” he said gruffly.

Atretes felt the tip of the blade lift from his skin. The centurion stepped back and sheathed his gladius in a smooth, liquid movement that bespoke many years of experience. “My apologies, Atretes. A reflex action.” He held out his hand to assist him to his feet.

Ignoring it, Atretes rose on his own.

“Stand at ease,” the centurion said. He removed his helmet and tucked it under his arm. He was a distinguished looking man with hair graying at the temples and a face deeply tanned and lined. “My name is Theophilus,” he said to Rizpah and Atretes. Then his eyes met Atretes’ angry glare, and a faint smile curved his mouth. “I’ve come to show you the way home.”

A hand squeezed Atretes’ shoulder, rousing him from sleep. Above him, the square sail billowed, driving the ship before the wind.

“Will you join us for worship this morning, brother?”

Atretes opened one bleary eye and swore at young Bartimaeus, who stood over him. “I’m not your brother, boy. And if you wake me again, I swear I’ll break every bone in your hand.”

Bartimaeus withdrew.

Atretes pulled the heavy blanket over his head, blotting out the starlight and cold wind.

“Is he coming this time?” Tibullus asked.

“No.”

“We won’t give up on him,” Agabus said. “Men more stubborn than Atretes have come to know the Lord.”

“He said he’d break my hand the next time I woke him up. I think he really would.”

“Then we’ll get a pole and prod him at a safe distance,” Tibullus said with an amused laugh. Pushing back the blanket, Atretes sat up. One look at his face and the three young men crossed the deck to where the others were waiting. Muttering curses under his breath, Atretes relaxed back, relieved for the moment of their irritating presence. They had stayed up most of the night talking about their dream of carrying the ‘good news to a dying world.’ What good news? And what dying world? Not much of what they said made any sense. But then, why should it? Their religion made no sense. Their god made no sense. Any deity with power would avenge the murder of his son, not forgive and adopt those who had done it.