“Sit down!”
“He’ll burn himself!”
“He has to learn boundaries.” Atretes made no move to stop him. “No, Caleb,” he said firmly. Leaning forward, he lightly smacked the small hand reaching for the bright embers on a stick. Startled, Caleb drew back and hesitated. Fascination won over obedience. He reached out again. “No.” Atretes smacked his hand harder. Caleb’s lip quivered, but after a brief hesitation, temptation won.
Rizpah rose quickly, but it was already too late. Caleb’s expression of wonder changed to one of surprised pain. Theophilus caught her wrist and held her where she was when Atretes plucked his son off the ground.
“How could you?” she cried.
“A few blisters won’t kill him,” Atretes said. “And he’ll learn obedience.” He tucked his son in the crook of his arm. “Next time, you know better, ja?”
“Let me have him back before more harm comes to him.”
Atretes ignored her and spoke softly in German as he examined his son’s scorched fingers. He sucked on them, and Caleb’s crying eased. When the tot stopped crying completely, Atretes examined his fingers again.
“No serious damage.”
Rizpah glared at him speechlessly, her eyes awash with tears. Caleb plucked at his father’s lip, delighted to be the center of his attention.
Atretes uttered a playful growl and snapped at the tiny intrusive fingers, drawing a squeak of laughter. He nibbled his son’s fingers and sucked gently on the sore ones a moment longer before setting him down again.
Caleb looked at the fire.
“Oh, Lord,” Rizpah said. Theophilus’ hand tightened, keeping her where she was. “Atretes, don’t let him—”
“He’s a boy and not to be coddled!”
“He’s a baby!”
Still fascinated, Caleb rocked back and forth, thinking.
Atretes leaned back and watched.
“He’s as willful as you,” Rizpah said. “If you let him hurt himself again, so help me, I’ll—”
Caleb started to crawl toward the pretty flickering lights. “No!” Atretes said firmly. Caleb plopped back on his bottom and flapped his arms, jabbering loudly as he made his frustration known. Theophilus laughed, releasing Rizpah.
Rizpah let out her breath softly, but kept watching Caleb lest he change his mind and head again for disaster. He headed for the packs and sat playing with the leather straps.
“He’s willful,” Atretes said, grinning smugly, “not stupid.”
She wasn’t amused or mollified. “Well, thank God he wasn’t on a cliff.”
A muscle jerked in Atretes’ jaw. His blue eyes turned hard and mocking. “You think you take better care of my son than I do? A painful lesson is hard learned, but never forgotten.” He stared straight into her eyes. “Pain teaches a man not to make the same mistake twice.”
She knew he had just deliberately smashed the bridge that had been built between them this afternoon. And it was her own fault. Lord, when will I learn to hold my tongue? She looked bleakly back at him and felt the boundaries he had drawn around himself. After all these months together, he still equated her with Rome and Julia Valerian. He would enjoy having her as his mistress, but heaven forbid he let her close enough to be a companion and friend.
O Abba, Abba . . .
Turning her head away, she hoped he wouldn’t know how easily he could cut through her own barriers. She had almost regained control when Theophilus put his hand over hers. The tender gesture broke down all defenses. “Excuse me,” she said in a choked whisper and rose.
Atretes came to his feet as she walked away into the darkness.
“Sit down, Atretes.”
“Stay out of this.”
“You got your victory. Enjoy it if you must, but let her withdraw with honor.”
“Mind your own business, Roman.”
“So be it, but if you’re going to chase her down, take Caleb with you.” He settled back comfortably on his blanket. “I’m going to sleep.”
Frustrated, Atretes clenched his fists and stayed where he was. Rizpah went down the bank and disappeared from sight. He wanted to go after her, but knew if he did, he would say or do something more to regret. He had seen the effect his words had upon her.
Stooping down, he picked up a thick branch, broke it in half, and tossed it onto the fire, causing a burst of sparks to fly heavenward.
“We’ll try for Civita Castellana tomorrow and then head west for the Tyrrhenian Sea,” Theophilus said without opening his eyes.
* * *
Rizpah sat down on the bank of the stream, her knees drawn up against her chest.
“O Lord, I need you,” she whispered brokenly. “Am I going to contend against this man for the rest of my life? I miss Shimei. I miss the safety I felt being with him. Why couldn’t I have gone on that way?”
She rested her chin on her knees, thinking she should go back and watch over Caleb. But Atretes had proven himself more than capable of that. Moonlight cast shimmering reflections, like sparkling jewels, on the dark moving stream. She let out her breath slowly, drawing on her faith.
“You are the God of creation, who gave us Jesus. How can I sit here and say you don’t understand? Who but you can understand, Lord?”
She stood and held her hands out palms up, looking to the heavens.
“Father, I thank you for the blessings you have bestowed upon me. You brought me out of the darkness in which I was living and placed Shimei in my life. He was such a pure, sweet man. He never made the mistakes I did. He deserved someone better than I. Some people are born obedient to your will, Lord, and Shimei was such a man.”
Her voice was thick with tears. “Help me remember you made me as I am for your own purposes. I don’t have to know what they are. I don’t know why I had to lose Shimei or why Rachel had to die. I don’t know anything other than you sustained me, Lord. Out of my sorrow, you gave me Caleb and joy.”
She lowered her hands.
And now there was Atretes.
She shook her head faintly, closing her eyes and lifting her face to the cool night. “It’s so peaceful and beautiful here, Lord,” she said softly. “When I’m by myself like this, I can think and convince myself that you’ll sustain me through whatever comes. But, Abba, I’m burdened with feeling where he’s concerned. You know the woman I am. You knit me together. Couldn’t you have made me a little differently? Lead me not into temptation. Lord, I know I’m a weak vessel. Atretes speaks, and I take his words to heart. He looks at me, and I melt inside. He touches me, and I burn for him.”
A soft night breeze caressed the leaves in the tree near the stream bank. The sound was peaceful.
“Lord, may it be your Word that is carved upon my heart, your love that I crave. Open my mind and heart to drink in the word Theophilus gives me each morning. Strengthen me for your purpose. Cast out the ‘if onlys’ and ‘what ifs’ that plague me when Atretes looks at me. I remember what it felt like to be loved by a man. Sometimes I hunger for that kind of loving again. Help me to see him through your eyes, Lord, and not through the eyes of a fleshly woman. Redeem him, Father. Bring him up out of the pit and set his feet upon the Rock.”
Insects chirped around her and the soft burbling of the stream soothed her.
A strong sense of peace overwhelmed her, and she fell silent, too choked with emotion to speak. Music, Lord. All around me is the music of your creation. She let the sounds flow over and around her in sweet harmony, thinking of all the times the Lord had sustained her and provided for her, and her heart rose and swelled, renewed.
O Lord, you are with me always. I can rest in your promise. I will let my confidence rest in you.
Unburdened and renewed, she drew up her tunic and knotted it so she could wade in the stream. Hands outstretched, she turned slowly, basking in the moonlight. Bending down, she cupped the icy water and flung it high into the night sky, an offering of sparkling jewels to the one who had quenched her thirst with living water.
Her heart sang out within her, overflowing.
* * *
Atretes sat grimly by the fire, waiting. It seemed hours had passed before he saw Rizpah come up from the stream. He lowered his head slightly so she wouldn’t know he’d been watching and waiting for her return. When she came close, he glanced up and noted the damp curls around her face. Had she bathed in that frigid stream? She was looking at Caleb, who was still playing on the packs, and then at Theophilus snoring. She smiled in amusement, and Atretes’ chest tightened.
She glanced at him almost shyly and sat down wearily on her own blanket across the fire from him. Why was she so still, that beatific look on her face? He wanted to ask her what had taken her so long.
“Mama,” Caleb said and crawled toward her. When she put him on her lap, he rubbed his eyes with his fists. She kissed the top of his head and stroked his dark hair. He rubbed his face against her breasts, his eyelids heavy. Shifting him gently, she lay down and tucked him close to her to keep him warm. She drew her shawl up to cover herself before opening her clothing and nursing him to sleep.
Atretes watched her boldly, willing her to look at him. When she did, his blood went warm at the softness in her eyes. No woman had ever looked at him like that before. Her face was pure gold in the glowing embers of the fire, which he’d let die down as he sat there, wondering how long it would be before she came back.
“Good night, Atretes,” she said softly and closed her eyes.
He ached with a profound longing. Disturbed, he added several more thick branches to the fire, then his gaze drifted back to Rizpah. She was asleep already. It annoyed him that she could be so at peace when he was in such turmoil. Was it her Christ again that had brought her this peace?
Atretes’ gaze rested on Caleb.
How could this god have such power and yet allow his son . . . his son to die at the hands of his enemies? Where was the power in such an act?
He looked again at Rizpah’s face and clenched his fists. He wanted to awaken her . . . and then what? Admit his doubts, his questioning, his interest in her infernal god? Admit the longing, the gnawing emptiness that ached within him whenever he saw the peace she and Theophilus shared?
Fool. Fool! They’d be traveling miles tomorrow, and instead of resting in preparation, he was sitting here, staring across the fire at a woman, and he couldn’t seem to help himself.
He sat a long while watching her sleep. He studied every contour of her face and body. How was it possible for a woman to become more beautiful every day? Stretching out on the ground, he lay staring up at the starry blue-black sky.
Willing himself to sleep, he closed his eyes. Even as he drifted off, her words echoed softly.
“However much you want to protect your heart, it’s already too late, isn’t it?”
24
They traveled the road through the ancient Etruscan city of Tarquinia, with its painted tombs, and went on to Orbetello near the base of Mount Argentarius. Crossing the bridge over the Albegna, they continued north for the Umbro River and Grosseto. They walked no more than twelve miles a day, for any more than that was too much for Rizpah.
The weather turned cold and wet.
“We’ll make it to Grosseto in another hour,” Theophilus said as a company of soldiers rode south past them.
Rizpah looked down the road. Though she said nothing, Atretes saw her weariness. The clouds opened, pouring a heavy driving rain down upon them. Long before they reached the edge of the city, she was soaked through, the hem of her tunic muddy.
“This way,” Theophilus said, leading them through the streets past a bazaar where the merchants were still carrying on trade within their tent booths.
Atretes grew uneasy as he saw more soldiers down the street ahead of him. “Where do you take us?”
“I know of an inn near the fort,” Theophilus said. “It’s been ten years since I passed through this city, but if it’s still there, we’ll find good food and shelter.”
The inn was owned by several retired Roman soldiers and had expanded since Theophilus’ last visit. The tariff for overnight lodgings had gone up as well, but Theophilus paid it gladly to get Rizpah and the baby out of the cold rain.
Atretes was tense and watchful as he stood within the courtyard. Legionnaires were coming and going from every direction. Many had women of easy virtue with them.
Caleb fussed as a young soldier passed by with a woman clinging to his arm. The legionnaire smiled at the babe, reaching out to chuck him lightly under the chin. “A wet night for travel, little one,” he said and fell silent as Rizpah looked up at him. The young man’s brows rose slightly in surprised pleasure. “My lady,” he drawled, giving her a slight bow and annoying his lady companion.
Atretes stepped closer and pushed the cape back from his hair. “Move on.”
The woman stared, openmouthed. Her gaze moved over him in stunned admiration. She smiled, eyes bright.
The soldier straightened slightly, insulted that a civilian would think to command him. He took in Atretes’ height, breadth, and the cold look in his eyes.
Atretes took Rizpah’s arm. He said nothing more, but the message was clear. The soldier heeded it. He took the woman’s arm and headed toward the stairs. She whispered something to him as they walked away. They rejoined the others of their group. As they spoke among themselves, two others glanced back at them.
“He meant no harm,” Rizpah said softly. “People always notice babies.”
“He was looking at you.”
Theophilus turned from having paid the proprietor.
“We will not stay here,” Atretes said, and Theophilus saw his burning look and where it was directed.
“Lower your hackles. They’re leaving.” He had forgotten the other amenities the establishment boasted. “We’ve been given a chamber down that corridor. I’ve arranged for food to be sent to us.”
They entered a huge inner courtyard with a marble fountain. The rain pattered down as they walked along the portico. Rizpah shivered, the chill seeping in through her wet clothing. Their room was large and comfortably furnished with several couches and small tables. A servant followed them in and took hot coals from a bucket to start the fuel in their brazier burning.
Dumping his wet cloak on the floor, Atretes took Caleb and put him on the floor. He stripped the sodden cloak roughly from Rizpah’s shoulders. “Warm yourself.” He nodded toward the brazier. She started after Caleb, but Atretes caught her arm, giving her a push. Catching up with Caleb, he stripped his son’s tunic and wraps, tossing them as heedlessly aside as he had their cloaks. Flopping his son on a couch, he rubbed him dry with one of the woven blankets. Caleb cried at the rough handling and didn’t stop until he was wrapped in warmth and held close by his father.
Theophilus had fared better in the rain with his thick woolen cloak, leather cuirass, and tunic. He took a blanket from the foot of another couch and draped it around Rizpah’s shoulders. Shivering, she thanked him as she picked up her cloak from the floor. She shook it and draped it over the curled wooden end of the couch, hoping it would dry before morning.
Hugging the blanket around herself, she stood as close to the brazier as she could. Steam rose from the wool. Atretes came near, Caleb peering up out of the blanket bundle in his father’s arms, spikes of dark hair sticking straight up on his head. She laughed and tapped his nose, thankful he was dry and warm.
“We’ll rest here a day,” Theophilus said. “No one will bother us.”
“Perhaps the rains will let up,” Rizpah said, almost hoping they wouldn’t. She desperately needed a day of rest.
A servant brought a tray of delicious foods. Theophilus broke up the braised chicken cooked in honey and mead spiced with coriander and sliced onions. Cooked eggs were sliced and topped with roe on a bed of lettuce and sliced mushrooms. Meatballs in a spicy red sauce were also on the platter along with loaves of bread and ripe winter apples.
“Manna from heaven,” Rizpah said, feed
ing bits of chicken to Caleb before eating any herself. He preferred the cooked eggs with roe.
While her attention was on Caleb, Atretes filled a goblet with strong wine and set it before her. Her tunic was still damp, her skin pale. The wine would warm her and give her a good night’s sleep. He looked over her soiled tunic and the worn sandals. She’d freeze in the mountains.
“Wonderful food, a warm place to sleep,” Rizpah said, looking around the beautifully furnished room. “All I need is a bath and I’d feel I was in heaven.”
“The baths aren’t far from here,” Theophilus said. “There’s no reason not to go.”
“She’s too tired,” Atretes said, his mouth full of pheasant.
“I’d love to bathe.”
He tossed the leg bone onto the floor. “You bathed in the stream last night.”
“I washed my face.”
Atretes glowered. “What about the baby?”
“I’ll take him with me, of course.”
“We’ll go with her,” Theophilus said, curious about Atretes’ attitude.
“And the gold? Who’ll watch it?”
“We’ll take turns. I’ll keep it on me while you bathe. Then you can do likewise.”
“Perhaps we can wash our clothes as well,” Rizpah said hopefully.
“There’ll be a laundress on hand,” Theophilus said. He rose from the couch and crossed the room, rummaging through his pack. He took a bathing set of strigils and an oil flask from his gear. “I’m afraid I left mine in Ephesus,” Rizpah said. “We had no time. . . .”
“We can purchase what you need there,” Theophilus said.
Atretes looked between the two. Clearly any objections he might make would be overruled. He wasn’t about to tell either one of them he had never been in the public baths before, but had heard plenty about them. He drained his goblet of wine and stood, resigned. “Let’s get it done.”
Theophilus showed them the way. The baths weren’t far away from the inn, which was probably another reason the inn was so popular. There was a line of patrons at the door. Atretes queued up with Rizpah and Theophilus, who paid the few copper coins for all of them, and they went in.
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