As Sure as the Dawn (25 page)

When Atretes returned, he found Rizpah asleep in the straw, his son snuggled against her. He stood for a long time just looking at her. It was a luxury he seldom was afforded. He wanted her in ways beyond the physical, ways he couldn’t even understand, and that fact filled him with unease. His weakness for dark-haired, dark-eyed beauties made him wary of this woman; he had the heavy premonition that she could cut his heart into smaller pieces than Julia ever had.

Annoyed, he put his burdens down. The thud and rustle of hay awakened Rizpah. Her brown eyes were cloudy as she sat up and brushed away curling strands of dark hair with the back of her hand. “You’re back,” she said and smiled.

His blood warmed even as his defenses rose. “Take a look and make sure we have all we need,” he said tersely.

Rizpah wondered how one man could remain angry so long over a trifle. She wanted to say something about Theophilus, but knew it would do no good. Atretes would choose to think what he wanted and protestations from her would only serve to make matters worse.

Atretes crouched down and watched as she opened a sack and sifted her fingers into a mixture of dried lentils, corn, beans, and barley. He had purchased dried fruit and some dried meat as well. She picked another pouch. “Salt,” he said. “That amphora contains olive oil. The other, honey.” He lifted the full skins from his shoulders and set them down more carefully than he had the others. “Wine. Watered, so it’ll last at least a week.”

She lifted her head and looked at him, her expression full of light. She was so lovely, his heart jumped. “You’ve done well,” she said and her simple statement of praise broke through the barriers he had painstakingly erected around his heart. Yet as the tender emotions swelled, so too did his inner cry of alarm.

Retreating into his fortress of anger, he glared down at her. “And that surprises you,” he said with biting sarcasm. “Do not doubt this, woman. I will get my son to Germania by my own resources and without help!”

Stunned and hurt, Rizpah watched him walk away and wondered what on earth she had done wrong now.

They boarded the Alexandrian freighter during the predawn hours. There were more passengers this time, one hundred fifty-nine in all, and deck space was precious. Several wealthy passengers had sent servants ahead, and they had set elaborate shelters and prepared beds for their masters, leaving little room for others who had wives and children.

Small sturdy crafts powered by half a dozen oarsmen attached lines and towed the ship from dockside into the deeper waters of the Gulf of Corinth. For two hours they sat becalmed, and then the wind came up. The sails flapped and filled, and the ship sailed down the wide passage toward Actium and the Mediterranean.

Camella was quiet and pensive as she watched her daughter talking with Rhoda.

“They’re very fond of one another,” Rizpah said, observing them as well.

“Rhoda’s never done anything to hurt Lysia. It’s only me she tries to hurt.”

“As you do her.”

Camella glanced at her sharply, feeling the gentle reprimand. “She succeeds.”

“So do you. You’re both very capable in that regard. It’s painful to hear, even more painful to watch.”

Camella grimaced and drew her blanket around herself. She leaned back, staring up at the sail. “I don’t know why we say the things we do,” she said wearily. “I don’t even remember when it started. Sometimes just the way she looks at me makes me want to slap her face.” She looked at Rizpah. “I made a mistake. I know it. I don’t have to be reminded of it all the time. She’s always watching me and waiting for me to do something wrong.”

“The same way you watch and wait for her to find fault.”

“That’s not fair!”

“It’s true,” Rizpah said gently. “One of you has to stop.”

Camella looked away again. “If I knew how, I would.”

“You’ve heard the Word of God as clearly as I have, Cam. Pray for her.”

“Easier said than done,” she said, so full of resentment there was room for nothing else.

“Empty yourself. Obedience to God is seldom a matter of ease, but it always brings blessing.” She picked Caleb up from his nap and went for a walk on the deck. It was cold. She far preferred the small tent shelter, but Camella needed time alone to think.

“Join us, Rizpah,” Rhoda said as she came near. Rizpah saw how her gaze flickered to the small shelter where her sister-in-law sat.

“I need some exercise,” Rizpah said, sensitive to Camella’s feelings. She didn’t want Cam or Rhoda thinking she was taking sides.

Agabus and Tibullus stood near the bow, talking to several passengers. Parmenas and Eunice were with Theophilus while their three children sat on the deck nearby playing a game of pick-up sticks. Niger and Bartimaeus were standing near the mast, talking together. Several soldiers sat gambling near the door to the hold. Timon and Porcia were struggling to work together and reerect their small tent shelter, which had collapsed. Mary, Benjamin, and Barnabas were nearby, playing in a coil of ropes.

Rizpah found Atretes leaning against the bulwark of the shipowner’s cabin, his arms crossed. He stared out at the southern hills, appearing not to hear a word Peter was saying to him. She debated joining them, then decided against it.

Others walked the deck. A swarthy Macedonian passed by her, and she was filled with disquiet at the way he assessed her.

Though the wind held steady, it was slow going down the Gulf of Corinth. The sun rose and fell several times before they sailed past Patrae and Araxos on the coast of Greece. Sailing out of the gulf, they headed west, passing by the southern tip of Cephalonia. Beyond lay the Ionian Sea.

One day rolled tediously into another until a ship was sighted. “It’s a two-banked
hemiolia!”
an officer shouted to the captain, causing general alarm to all those who were aware that such a ship was favored by pirates. “It’s heading straight for us!”

The ship, sometimes referred to as a one-and-a-halfer, was powered by rowers as well as under sail. It sped through the waters, while their own Alexandrian ship moved sluggishly, burdened by cargo and indifferent winds.

“It’s Illyrian, Captain, and coming fast!”

Passengers began to panic. Theophilus shouted for order and commanded the women and children get below.

“There’s no room!”

“Make
room!”

“I was told the Roman fleet patrolled these waters!” one of the wealthy passengers shouted. “Where is it? Why aren’t they protecting us?”

“There’s a squadron out of Brundisium, but they can’t be everywhere at once. Now,
move!”

Atretes watched the passengers scrambling for possessions while others ran for the portal to the ladder below. Theophilus was shouting orders. Men were cursing. Women and children were screaming. Two slaves carrying a small but obviously heavy trunk were pushing their way through the throng at the command of their master.

“Set up the catapults!” Theophilus was shouting, watching how the oars of the hemiolia rose and fell with speed and precision driving the ship through the water.

Atretes swore and looked around the deck for Rizpah.

“Peter! Where’s Peter?!” Porcia cried out as Timon pushed her and the three other children toward the portal to the cargo decks.

Atretes looked down at the boy by his side. “Go with your father!” he said.

“I want to stay with you!”

Atretes gave the boy a hard shove in the direction of Timon and ran toward Rizpah, who was standing outside her tent shelter, staring in terror at the oncoming ship. She gasped in pain as he grasped her arm and yanked her toward the door of the owner’s cabin. The hemiolia was so close, Atretes could see armed men on the main deck. “Get in there and bar the door!” he said in a voice low with fury.

Atretes knew his dagger was no match for the battle that was coming and looked for a better weapon.

“Atretes!” Theophilus shouted and tossed him a spear.

A volley of arrows zinged over the narrowing span of water between the ships, one just missing his head. Others found their marks in the passengers still trying to get below. Screams of pain and panic rent the air. The captain shouted orders.

The line of oars on one side of the hemiolia went up sharply and retracted. The ship swung hard around.

Atretes’ heart constricted at what he saw.

“They’re outfitted with ravens, centurion!” a soldier shouted.

Theophilus had already seen the movable boarding bridges being rotated about the stump-mast set in the prow of the hemiolia. Beneath the outer ends of two he could see the sharp spike. If dropped aboard the Alexandrian freighter, the spike would penetrate and hold them fast. “Fire!” he commanded and the catapults were released, sending jars of oil across. They shattered on the deck at the same time the soldiers released a volley of flaming darts.

The hemiolia swung round and came hard against the Alexandrian. The blow rocked Atretes on his feet and sent screaming passengers down the ladderway. The ravens dropped, and Illyrians charged across, screaming war cries.

Rather than throw the spear, Atretes used it as a pugil stick. Giving his own war cry, he brought the end hard against the side of one Illyrian’s head and then came around to slice the throat of another. Dodging a sword, he rammed his shoulder into his attacker, knocking him backward into several others.

The crash of blade against blade echoed across the deck, as well as the screams of dying men. Leaping to the higher deck, Atretes felt a sharp sting along his right shoulder as an arrow shot by him. Enraged, he threw his spear, skewering a bowman and pinning him against a barrel.

He knew it was a mistake as soon as it left his hands, for he stood in the open, virtually defenseless. Someone knocked him back as three Illyrians came up the steps.

Theophilus struck the first man’s shoulder, then kicked the fallen sword to Atretes as he blocked a sword blow from the second attacker. He kicked the man down the stairway, knocking two others back.

Atretes took up the sword and almost used it on the man who had just saved his life. Gritting his teeth, he stood, feet planted as Theophilus turned. Seeing his fighting stance, the centurion smiled grimly. “Galls, doesn’t it?” He lowered his sword.

Knocking him aside, Atretes jumped down onto the main deck and entered the worst of the fray, venting his rage on anyone who dared come close.

Rizpah could hear the battle through the door of the owner’s cabin. Two hard thuds sounded against the door. Someone shouted and there was another thud, harder this time. The bar cracked. Opening a trunk, Rizpah threw out half the owner’s clothing. She put Caleb inside and closed the lid.

The door burst open as she turned. In the doorway was the Macedonian passenger. He entered with a gladius in his hand. “The prize I want,” he said, his dark eyes gleaming. “She’ll bring a good price.” He stood aside as two others entered the small quarters. “Take her.” The command given, he left.

She stood still as though cowed with terror until they came close. Then she used everything she had learned in the streets of Ephesus to keep them from laying hands on her. She struck, kicked, bit and scratched, screaming as she did so.

Atretes saw the Macedonian enter the cabin, but he was too deep in the fray on the main deck to do anything. He slashed the abdomen of one attacker and kicked another back. Ramming his shoulder into a third, he tried to drive his way through the melee. He saw two Illyrians enter the cabin as the Macedonian left, guiding others to the booty below.

Atretes hacked his way forward as he saw the two pirates dragging Rizpah from the cabin. She was fighting them every inch of the way. One struck her with his fist, and Atretes gave a bellow of rage. He reached them before the Illyrian had time to lift her to his shoulder. Seeing Atretes, both withdrew from her, but not in time to save their lives.

“Roman galleys!”

Many of the pirates managed to release their booty and retreat across two of the ravens, but grabbing up a spear, Atretes leaped to the third ramp, preventing the others from escaping.

“Atretes!” Theophilus shouted. “Let them go!”

Bellowing his war cry, Atretes struck blows to the right and left. Pain burst in his right shoulder and he fell forward. Losing balance, he fell headlong in the water. He hit hard and sank into the cold water of the Ionian Sea. Arrows rained down around him, barely missing their mark. Unable to move his left shoulder, he kicked his way up. As he burst the surface, he saw the raven above him being raised. The oars of the hemiolia made a loud bang as they came out, and as they swung down, one struck him on the head.