As Sure as the Dawn (40 page)

Roman legionnaires passed him. The sound of their hobnailed sandals made his muscles tighten. He saw the gates of the fort. The tabernacles lining the street in front of it were opening for business. There were things he had wanted to buy yesterday, but he doubted they’d be necessary now.

The inn was quiet when he reached it. He strode along the corridor and stopped at the door of their chamber. He put his hand on the latch and then paused. Instead of going in, he stood outside, listening, tense. There was no sound from within. It was well past dawn. So much for her obedience! Swearing under his breath, he opened the door and entered. He’d rest before he went looking for her.

Rizpah was standing near the window. She turned, relief filling her face. “You’re all right! Thank God.”

She still wore the same torn, dirty tunic. She hadn’t even washed her feet. “You didn’t go to the baths.”

“You said to stay here.” When he said no more, she walked to the couch and sat down, her knees too weak to hold her.

He wondered if she’d been standing at the window all night, waiting for him. She looked it. He turned away from her, disturbed by the emotions churning inside him. She hadn’t run away. She’d done as he commanded and waited for his return.

No matter the cost.

He looked around and saw Caleb wrapped in a blanket and sleeping comfortably among the pillows he had tossed on the floor the night before.

“Where’s Theophilus?”

“He went out to look for you a few hours ago.”

He looked at her again and knew that whatever she had been, she was someone else now. He couldn’t see that other person in her, no matter how hard he tried. And he knew something else. He trusted her. It was a piercing realization and one that filled him with a sense of peace such as he hadn’t known in years. He didn’t care what she’d been; he knew what she was.

“You never killed anyone,” he said simply. Nothing she had done to stay alive was worse than what he was.

His words amazed her, for in them she knew he exonerated her for everything she had done. Thankfulness and joy filled her and then softened as she realized he had also revealed something deep and dark and painful about his own life. He condemned himself. She rose and came to him. “Your sins are no greater than mine, Atretes. The Lord doesn’t measure the way man does. He—”

“We won’t talk of any of it again,” he said and stepped by her.

She turned, watching him cross the room and pick up the wine pitcher. Finding it empty, he swore and set it down. He looked around, distracted, undecided, restless. She’d never seen him look so tired and drawn. “Rest, Atretes,” she said gently. “We’ll continue on when you’re ready.”

He stretched out on the larger couch and put his arm up behind his head. He stared at the ceiling, his body tense.

She took a blanket from her couch. He studied her as she came to him, taking in each feature as though he had never seen her before and was trying to read who she was by the way she looked. She put the blanket over him. He caught her wrist as she started to turn away.

“You said there was a room at the baths where you could wash in private.”

“Yes,” she said, heart racing.

He let her go. Removing his belt, he dropped it with the money pouches on the floor beside the couch. “Take what you need and go. Take Caleb and bathe him as well.”

She was taken aback with surprise. “Th-thank you,” she stammered softly, wondering silently at his reasons. Was his decision a test or sign of trust? Either way, what did it matter? She knelt down and took a few copper coins from the pouch. Rising, she went and picked up Caleb from the pillows. Opening the door, she glanced back and saw Atretes watching her.

“We won’t be long.”

There were few patrons at the baths in the morning and most were women with children. For a second copper, a bath attendant washed her tunic while she bathed with Caleb. He loved playing in the water. When she finished, she rubbed the scented oil on her skin and scrapped it off with the strigil.

On the way back to the inn, she used the last few coins to purchase enough bread and fruit to feed them all. Water would have to do for she hadn’t enough money to buy wine, but then, perhaps Atretes had had his fill the night before.

She entered the room quietly, certain that Atretes would be asleep. He wasn’t. He lay on the couch as she had left him. Theophilus had returned as well and was asleep on the couch nearest the wall. Atretes relaxed as she entered the room. He moved, making himself more comfortable, and fell asleep even as she watched.

A test,
she thought and wanted to brush the hair back from his face.

Rizpah longed to sleep as well, but there was Caleb to tend. Having slept all night, he was wide-awake and in a mood to play. She made sure there was nothing on the floor or within reach to harm him and sat with her back against the door, trying to keep watch. Caleb was content, entertaining himself among the cushions.

The tot’s baby chatter awakened Atretes. Rolling over, he watched his son push a cushion across the floor. Sunlight streamed in the window revealing an hour well past noon. Rizpah lay curled on her side against the door. Atretes studied her, taking pleasure in the sight of her. He rose and crossed the room quietly.

As he lifted her, he felt the slight dampness of her tunic from having been washed the night before. He laid her on her couch and stood over her, letting his gaze take in every curve and plane of her body. He curled a strand of dark hair around his finger, rubbing it between his fingers. To look at her, no one would guess she’d lived in the streets of a city like Ephesus, stealing and trading her body to stay alive. She looked young and unsullied. He let the strand of hair uncurl. She shivered slightly, curling on her side. He looked for her blanket and realized she had given it to him.

He saw his cloak hanging near the brazier. He had dumped it on the floor upon their arrival at the inn and forgotten it when he left. He had been too intent on getting out of the room and having time to think about what she had told him. The heavy garment had been soaked anyway and would have been of little use to him. He took it up now and found it dry and warm.

He covered her with it. Brushing his knuckles lightly against her cheek, he stood amazed that her skin could be so soft.

When Rizpah awakened late in the afternoon, Atretes was gone.

Caleb was nowhere to be found.

“I’ll borrow a horse from the fort and follow the road north,” Theophilus said. “Atretes knows enough to go that way. You stay here and wait in case he changes his mind and comes back.”

“And if he does return?”

“Start out. Camp near a milestone. I’ll find you.” He left enough money for her to pay for two days’ lodging.

Rizpah paced, praying fervently that Atretes would come back, sure he wouldn’t.
Lord, you are my rock and my shield, my everpresent help in time of trouble. O God. Caleb. Caleb!

Her breasts filled with milk until she hurt with heaviness. With the physical pain came doubt, gripping her heart with taloned fingers.

“Wean him. Starting now.”

O God.

“I forgive nothing!”

Lord, please.

She sat weeping in the growing darkness, arms crossed over her breasts, pressing against the pain.

Your will, Lord. Give me the heart to accept your will.

She lit the lamp. Pacing again, she murmured words Shimei had taught her, clinging to them with determination while fighting against the doubts assailing her. “You have plans for me, plans for my welfare and not for calamity to give me a future and a hope. Lord, you found me and restored me. You gathered me to your bosom. You brought me out of the pit.” Tears coursed down her cheeks. “Lord, your will . . . your will . . . Lord . . .”

The door opened.

She swung around as Atretes strode in, Caleb in his arms.

“You’re awake,” Atretes said with a smile, shrugging off a heavy bundle and dumping it on the floor.

Rizpah stared at him.

Atretes looked back at her, his smile turning down in a perplexed frown. “What’s wrong?”

“Wrong?” she said faintly.

“You look . . .” He shrugged for want of a word. “Upset.”

“What’s wrong?!” Her blood went hot. “You take Caleb and leave without a word, and you ask me
what’s wrong?”

“You were asleep, and someone had to watch him,” he said with appalling logic. “Here.” He dumped the child into her arms. “He’s hungry.” He headed across the room for the table. “And so am I.”

She stood, mouth agape.

“There’s nothing here,” he said, seeing a piece of stale bread. He glanced back at her.

“Theophilus took the bread that was left.”

“And there’s nothing else?”

“I had no appetite,” she said through clenched teeth, certain she had the strength to kill him with her own bare hands. Shaking with anger, she presented her back to him, sat on the couch, and opened her clothing so that she could nurse Caleb.

“Are you sick?” Atretes said.

“No.”

Atretes frowned. She wasn’t acting like herself and it made him nervous. “I’ll get us something to eat,” he said and went out.

Rizpah didn’t care if he ever came back, and then was afraid he wouldn’t. When he finally did, he brought bread, grapes, two roasted chickens, and two skins of wine and roused her deeper ire with his jovial mood.

“Where’s Theophilus?” Atretes said. “At the baths or the fort with his bloody comrades?”

“Neither. He went looking for you.
Again.”

“Where does he think I went?”

“North.”

Atretes stared at her. “North?” He laughed. He laughed harder as he thought about the Roman trying to catch up with him. “North,” he said and broke a chicken in half. How long would it take the Roman to figure out he hadn’t even left Grosseto? Grinning, he ripped off a hunk of meat with his teeth.

Caleb was replete and asleep in Rizpah’s arms. She put him on her couch and covered him with Atretes’ cloak. Straightening, she glared at Atretes, incensed by his mirth. “How can you laugh about it?”

“He’ll have to walk a long time to find me.”

“He was going to get a horse.”

“Riding then. Ha! Even better. I like having plenty of distance between us.” He laughed again and tore off another hunk of meat with his teeth. He waved the carcass, indicating she join him.

She crossed the room, sat down opposite him, picked up the other half of roasted chicken, and debated hitting him across the side of the head with it. “You could have told us,” she said, pulling the leg off instead.

“I said you were sleeping.”

“You shouldn’t have left.”

Atretes’ eyes narrowed. “I don’t answer to you, woman. And I sure in Hades will never answer to
him.”

“He’s showing you the way home.”

“Someone else could tell me the way,” Atretes said with a shrug.

“If your insufferable pride would let you ask.”

He froze for an instant and then tossed the chicken onto the platter, good humor gone.
“My
pride?”

“What was I supposed to think?” she said, anger dissolving into exasperation. “‘Wean him,’ you said. ‘I forgive nothing,’ you said.” She threw the chicken leg at his head. His reflexes were as good as ever, and she missed. She had never seen him look surprised—until now.

“I thought you left and took Caleb with you!” She dissolved into tears. Humiliated by her lack of restraint, she stood up quickly and left the table.

There was a long silence behind her.

“I covered you with my cloak,” Atretes said quietly as though that explained everything.

She turned and looked at him, uncomprehending. Atretes looked back at her as though she had sprouted horns. Perhaps she had.

He felt uncomfortable. Why was she staring at him like that? Mouth flattening, he picked up his chicken again. “Sit down and eat, woman. Maybe you’ll
think
better with some food in your stomach.”

Rizpah came back and sat down.
“I covered you with my cloak.”
She waited for him to look at her again, but he seemed intent on eating his dinner and pretending she wasn’t even in the room. “I thought you forgot your cloak again,” she said quietly.

“I didn’t forget it.” He tossed the bones onto the platter instead of the floor. His manners were improving.

“I’m sorry I threw the chicken leg at you.”

How could a woman be on fire with anger one second and serenely calm the next? “Be glad you didn’t hit me.” He reached for a bunch of grapes.

“I shouldn’t have assumed—”

“Eat!”

Smiling, she picked up the chicken and broke off a wing. They ate in silence, his tense, hers tranquil. Atretes finished first and wiped his hands on a blanket. He seemed to want to get away from the table and her as quickly as he could.

“What instructions did Theophilus give you?”

“To head north and camp near a milestone. He said he’d find us.”

Atretes went over to the pack he had dumped on the floor. He untied the ropes and opened the blanket. He tossed a heavy ball of cloth to her. As it fell loose in her hands, she realized it was a thick woolen tunic. “You can wear the one you have under it.” He tossed her a wool-lined boot similar to those soldiers wore in cold weather. As soon as she caught it, he tossed her the second. The soles of both were made of thick leather and studded with hobnails.