As Sure as the Dawn (27 page)

“What if someone stole it from you? Would that mean you weren’t free anymore?”

“I don’t know, boy.”

“What would you do if they tried to put you back into a ludus?”

“I wouldn’t give up without a fight.”

Rizpah saw little of Atretes, choosing to remain inside the small shelter and keep Rhoda company. She was worried about her. Rhoda hadn’t spoken a word since her husband’s body was delivered into the sea. She sat silent and pale, grieving. Camella, mourning the loss of her brother as well, remained outside the shelter until nightfall, avoiding her sister-in-law’s company for as long as possible. Poor Lysia, torn between love for her mother and her aunt, went back and forth between the two.

Camella finally entered the shelter and sat down. She gave a cursory glance at Rhoda and then smiled at Rizpah. “One of the ship’s officers just told me if the winds hold, we’ll be in Ostia by the Ides of March. That’s the day after tomorrow.”

“I’m a little frightened at the thought of Rome,” Rizpah said. Caleb was asleep at her breast. She laid him down and covered him with a soft blanket. His mouth worked as though he was still nursing.

“He’s beautiful,” Rhoda said softly, surprising both women. She began to weep, tears coursing down her white cheeks. Leaning forward, she put her finger into Caleb’s palm. His fingers closed instinctively around hers. “I’ve always wanted a child. For as long as I can remember, that was the greatest desire of my heart. Prochorus said the Lord would bless us with one in his good time. I prayed unceasingly for a baby. Now I’ll never have one.”

She raised her head and looked across at Camella, who stiffened and drew back slightly, expecting attack. Instead, Rhoda spoke softly.

“When you came to live with us, it was as though God mocked me. From the time I was a child, I’ve believed in the Lord and served him. I never strayed—” Her voice broke and she looked at Caleb again.

“The way I did, you mean,” Camella said in brittle tones. “Isn’t that what you want to say?”

“Cam,” Rizpah said, aggrieved.

“No. It’s true. Let’s have it all out in the open now. She lost a husband. Maybe she’s forgotten I lost my brother!” She glared at Rhoda, tears flooding her eyes. “What are you going to say now, Rhoda? That his death is my fault?”

“No,” Rhoda said brokenly.

“No?” Camella said. “You’ve been sitting there for days, not saying a single word to me, just thinking and thinking of ways to blame me. Go ahead. Blame me.” She drew her shawl tightly around herself and turned her face away.

“I have been thinking. I’ve harbored ill will against you and slandered you. I’ve wronged you and I’ve been able to think of nothing else!” She blinked back tears, staring down at her tightly clasped hands.

Camella looked at her with distrust.

“I wasn’t angry with you as much as I’ve been angry with God. I thought he had abandoned me.” She raised her head again, stricken. “God gave you what I wanted most: a child! You came to us with a beautiful baby in your arms, and I cried out in my heart. Why did God bless you and not me? I thought I was deserving. But I wasn’t. I wasn’t deserving at all.”

She shook her head, filled with remorse. “All the while I thought I was serving God, I wasn’t.” Weaving her fingers together, she strove to go on. “When Prochorus died, I realized I’d even put my desire for a child ahead of him. I’ve done nothing but think about the past. I’ve done everything for the wrong reasons. All the good works people credit to me are nothing because I did them expecting God to repay me. I thought if I worked hard enough, God would have to give me what I wanted. The truth is I’ve never served the Lord at all. I was always serving myself.” Cheeks wet, she looked at Camella. “I’ve been unkind to you so many times, Cam. Please forgive me.”

Camella sat for a long moment, saying nothing. “I forgive you,” she said bleakly. She got up quickly and left the shelter.

Rizpah left Caleb with Rhoda and went out to her friend. Camella sat alone near the prow, weeping. Rizpah sat down with her. “What is it?” she said softly.

“I’ve always wanted her to beg for my forgiveness. I’ve prayed for this moment, just so she’d know what I’ve felt. And now I feel so ashamed.”

Camella wiped the tears from her cheeks and stared up at the sail. “Rhoda and I are a lot alike. She wanted a child. I wanted a husband who would love me the way my brother loved her.”

“And now you have one another.”

“Maybe. If we can learn to bear one another’s burdens instead of adding to them.”

“Now is a good time to start,” Rizpah said softly. Camella studied her friend’s face for a moment, then nodded. They returned to the shelter. Lysia took Caleb and played with him as her mother sat down nearby Rhoda.

“Rhoda,” she said softly, hesitant. “I want to speak with you about the past.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything.”

“Please, Rhoda. Just this once, let me talk about it, and then I’ll never mention it again.” She waited until Rhoda nodded before going on. “When Callistus left me, I was so hurt. You can’t imagine how much I loved him and how foolish I was over him. I knew when I left my family and went to him that what I was doing was wrong, but I didn’t care. All I could think about was being with him. And then he turned out to be everything my family and friends told me he was. I had nowhere to go, no one to take care of me. I even thought about drowning Lysia and committing suicide.”

Rhoda closed her eyes, shaking softly with silent weeping.

Camella lowered her head. “You didn’t know how bad it was, Rhoda. Prochorus knew, but he didn’t offer any help. I finally swallowed my pride and asked him for it, and he said he’d speak to you first before he decided.” She didn’t say anything for a moment. She looked away, tears running down her cheeks, swallowing convulsively.

“I knew I’d created my own problems, but all I could think about was my own brother cared more for your feelings than he did for my life.” She let out her breath shakily. “I was jealous of you. I came into your home full of hurt feelings and resentment. I took offense at everything you said and I did everything I could to come between you and my brother. I’ve made everyone miserable for the past several years, and now you ask for
my
forgiveness when it’s your forgiveness I need.”

Rhoda leaned forward, stretching out her hands. Camella grasped them. Pride cast aside, she cried openly. “He loved you. You know he did. And he adored Lysia as much as I do. You say you’ll never have a child, Rhoda, but Lysia is your daughter as much as mine. She loves you. I love you, too.”

They talked far into the night, about Prochorus, about their concerns of what they would do when they reached Rome. Rizpah lay down with Caleb to her breast and listened. As joy over the reconciliation swept over her, she looked out through the tent opening and saw Atretes.

He was standing at the railing, his blonde hair whipped about his face by the wind. He looked so grim, so unrelenting. What would her future and Caleb’s be when they reached the dark forests of Germania?

The Alexandrian freighter entered the imperial harbor of Ostia on the Ides of March. The port at the mouth of the Tiber built by Ancus Marcius seven hundred years before had grown into a commercial and storage center for Rome’s grain supplies as well as a port of refitting and repair for vessels going to Portus. Galleys from the Roman fleet were in noticeable numbers alongside a royal barge decorated for an elaborate celebration.

Theophilus called the Christians together as the ship was being towed into the harbor.

“I won’t be able to meet with you again until I deliver the gifts to the emperor and am dismissed of my duties. When you disembark, follow the main road out of Ostia. It will take you to the gates of Rome. Look for the Temple of Mars. Nearby is a marketplace. When you find the vendors of fruits and vegetables, ask for a man named Tropas. He has a booth among them. He’s one of us and can be trusted. He’ll direct you to safe housing.”

Rizpah went to Atretes to relay Theophilus’ instructions, but he dismissed them. “We go on our own,” he said, picking up the blanket rolls and last of the food supplies.

“Is that wise?” Rizpah said, afraid to leave the others. She saw the warning glint of anger in his blue eyes. Packs already tied to his back, Atretes took Caleb from her and headed for the line of passengers disembarking.

Struggling with misgivings, she hurried after him. “Let me hold him, Atretes.”

“I’ll give him back to you when we’re off this ship.”

Helpless to stop him, she looked back at the others. All were occupied with gathering their belongings, and he wouldn’t listen to them anyway. Peter ran to Atretes before he could disembark.

“Where are you going? Aren’t you going to stay with us?”

“No,” Atretes said, casting the boy an impatient look.

“Theophilus told us where to go.”

“Go back to your mother.”

“But—”

“Go!”

Blinking back tears, Peter backed away.

Rizpah watched the boy and turned to Atretes. “Why were you so cruel to him? He loves you.”

“Be silent!” He stepped onto the plank walkway and started down. She had no choice but to follow. When they reached the dock, she had to walk quickly to keep up with him. He was in a hurry to be away. His demeanor was such that people moved out of his way as he strode down the quay toward some large warehouses. Several soldiers who stood by a man with a manifest noticed him. One in particular stared long and hard and then said something to one of the others.

“You there!” one of them called out, and Rizpah’s heart jumped and began pounding heavily.

Atretes swore under his breath and tilted his head in arrogant question as two soldiers approached him while others along the way stopped to stare in curiosity.

“What’s your name?” one soldier demanded, while the other said, “Atretes! I tell you, Ancus. I swear it’s him.” He stared at Atretes almost in awe. “I saw you fight Celerus. I’ll never forget it. It was the most magnificent fight I’ve ever witnessed.”

“Glad you enjoyed it,” Atretes said without inflection.

“Then you
are
Atretes,” Ancus said with a snort of disbelief, looking over his common garb and the turban he had wound on his head to cover his blond hair.

“Yes,” Atretes said, and Rizpah glanced up, surprised he revealed his identity. She could see a pulse throbbing in his neck. Cold alarm spread through her.

“Your son?” Ancus said and reached out to brush Caleb’s cheek. Atretes shifted his body. He moved only a fraction of an inch, but as the babe was taken out of the soldier’s reach, the message was as loud as a trumpet calling forth a battle. Ancus’ eyes narrowed. A cold silence fell. Rizpah could hear her own heartbeat in her ears. She prayed frantically, beseeching God for help.

“Ulpius, since you’re the expert on gladiators, you can tell me. Wasn’t Atretes sold and sent to Ephesus?”

“Three years ago,” Ulpius said. “Not that the mob has forgotten him. They were so much in love with him, vendors still sell statues outside the—”

“Then he’s still a slave,” Ancus interrupted smugly.

“I earned my freedom,” Atretes said and drew the gold chain and ivory pendant from beneath his tunic and cloak. He held it out, his expression dark and mocking.

“A pity,” Ancus said, “but then, things can change, given the right circumstances.”

Atretes handed Caleb to Rizpah without looking at her.

Ancus put his hand on the hilt of his sword. Ulpius stepped forward, his hand extended between them. “Don’t be a fool.”

“Is there a problem here?” came a hard voice.

Ulpius turned. “Centurion!” he said, startled and clearly relieved. He hit his breastplate in formal salute. Ancus immediately saluted as well.

“I asked you a question, soldier,” Theophilus said to Ancus, the full dignity and authority of his rank evident in his command.

Ancus’ face reddened. “This man is a slave of the imperial ludus.”

“He is a slave no longer, soldier, or didn’t you notice the pendant he wears?” Theophilus looked at Atretes and inclined his head respectfully. “I didn’t have the opportunity to bid you farewell and offer my thanks for your assistance aboard the ship. I do so now. The emperor will be pleased to hear of your part in thwarting the Illyrian pirates.”

A muscle jerked in Atretes’ jaw and his lips whitened.

Theophilus looked at Ancus. “We were attacked and outnumbered. Without this man’s assistance, the Illyrians would’ve taken the ship and the gifts I bring Titus.”

“Centurion, this man is
Atretes.”

Theophilus’ expression darkened. “Is that why you detain him? To fawn over him like a couple of amoratae? Go back to your duties. Now!” As soon as they were out of hearing, he looked at Atretes. “It’s unfortunate you’re so readily recognizable.”

“I don’t intend to be in Rome any longer than necessary.”

“It’d be safer if you stayed out of the city entirely. I’ll make arrangements for you to stay on the outskirts of Ostia and meet you when I’ve completed my commission to the emperor.”

“I make my own arrangements.”

“Stop being a stiff-necked fool and use some common sense!”