As Sure as the Dawn (28 page)

“Have I your permission to depart, my
lord?
Or do you intend to detain me as well?”

Theophilus’ eyes ignited. “You’re free to go where you wish, all the way to Hades if it pleases you.” He stepped back and inclined his head. “But take care lest you drag your son and Rizpah down with you.”

Atretes’ body was rigid, hot blood flooding his veins. He stood his ground, gritting his teeth. “I know someone in Rome who will help us.”

“An ex-gladiator?” Theophilus said, struggling against his own temper and impatience with this stubborn, thick-skulled German.

“Gladiators are more to be trusted than Romans.”

“As Gallus was trustworthy,” Rizpah said and received a black look from him.

“Go and put yourself in the care of your ex-gladiator,” Theophilus said, angry. “Hopefully you won’t find yourself back in the ludus. I warn you now, it won’t be easy for me to get you out of there.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“In the arena, I would agree.”

“Anywhere.”

“He’s only trying to help us,” Rizpah said.

“I don’t need his help, woman, nor have I asked for it.”

“Why won’t you listen to him? He knows Rome. He knows the emperor. He knows—”

Atretes snatched Caleb from her arms and strode off. Frightened and filled with frustration, she stared after him and then turned to beseech Theophilus. “What am I going to do?”

“Go with him. I’ll find you.” He gave a soft laugh without humor. “He’ll make it easy.”

Rizpah caught up with Atretes. Caleb was screaming in his arms. “You’re frightening him.” He thrust the baby into her arms without slowing his pace. She did her best to calm Caleb as she hurried alongside Atretes. It took three of her steps to match one of his strides and she was quickly out of breath.

“I can’t keep up with you!” she gasped, and he slowed his pace slightly, a hand clamped on her arm to keep her with him. “Do you know where you’re going?” she said, feeling less secure as the distance between her and Theophilus widened.

Atretes’ jaw stiffened.

“Theophilus knows his way—”

Atretes stopped and turned on her, his face livid. “Shut up! Do not mention his name to me again! Do you understand? I suffered his presence aboard ship because I had no choice. Now, I do!”

They walked for hours, falling in among the throng of travelers heading for Rome. They kept well to the side and out of the way of the numerous vehicles that sped in both directions. Four-wheeled, four-horsed
raeda
passed by bearing families. A two-wheeled, two-horsed
cisium
raced down the road, urged by a wealthy young aristocrat oblivious to the risk of others. There were ox wagons carrying goods, and litters carrying officials, merchants, and wealthy sightseers who were heading for Rome carrying messages, merchandise, or grand hopes of fulfilling their dreams. Hundreds walked; Atretes and Rizpah, Caleb in her arms, were among them.

They paused briefly by one of the milestones that was placed every thousand paces, recording the nearest towns and the name of the emperor during whose reign the roadwork had been completed. Road repairs were also noted on the milestone with each succeeding emperor named during whose reign the work had been done. Atretes could read none of it, and Rizpah only part, having been taught by her husband, Shimei.

Atretes opened the pouch tied to his belt and gave Rizpah a handful of dried grain to eat. He tossed some of the rich mixture into his mouth. Unlooping the wineskin, he dropped it into her lap. “It’s almost empty,” she said, after taking a sparing drink and holding it up to him.

“We’ll get more,” he said, looping it back on his shoulder. “Nurse the child on the way.”

They entered the city as the sun was setting. Outside the gates, merchants grumbled as they were forced to wait until the following morning before entering the city. No wheeled vehicles were allowed into Rome after sunset.

“How far?” Rizpah said, exhausted.

“Far,” Atretes said grimly. He could see the emperor’s palace in the distance and knew they had hours yet to walk before coming to an area of Rome with which he was familiar. Once they found the ludus, he was certain he could find the way to Pugnax’s inn. If not, he would find someone to take a message to Bato, the lanista of the Ludus Magnus. It was too far to go tonight. He could make it, but Rizpah was exhausted.

He saw a park not far ahead. “We’ll sleep there for the night.”

Rizpah noticed a gathering of rough-looking people loitering nearby, but made no protest. If they were attacked, it would be on Atretes’ head.

It was getting cold, and dark clouds gathered overhead. Atretes led Rizpah along a cobbled footpath between a copse of trees. Just on the other side was a vine-tangled fanum. She stopped and stared at it with misgivings.

“Thinking of the last time you and I shared one of these?” Atretes said mockingly.

“I’ll sleep over there,” she said, pointing to row of thick bushes.

“I don’t think so.”

“I don’t care what you think! I’m tired and hungry and I’m not going to argue with you!”

He heard the catch in her voice and knew she was close to tears. “It’s going to be cold, Rizpah.”

“Don’t offer to keep me warm!” Yanking the blanket from the pack on his shoulder, she left him on the path and headed for the shrubs.

Clenching his teeth, he went into the fanum and made a bed for himself. He could hear Caleb crying, the sound pitiful in the growing darkness. The clouds moved across the moon, shrouding the small fanum garden in darkness. His son’s crying frayed his conscience. A rumble of thunder rippled around him and rain poured down, pounding against the marble arch above him.

Atretes arose and went out to find Rizpah; his son’s crying made that easy. Stooping down before a heavy shrub, he looked at her huddled beneath the wet blanket. “Go away,” she said, and he could tell she was crying with the baby.

“Woman, I’m not the only one who’s stiff-necked and stubborn.” The cold rain was pouring down on his head and running down the back of his neck beneath the heavy woolen blanket around him. “Think of the babe.”

Teeth chattering, she rose and followed him back to the fanum. Shaking the moisture off her own woolen blanket, she laid down on the marble tiles. He sat on the bench and said nothing. Her body was shivering. He could hear her speaking softly to the baby. When Caleb cried harder, she shifted, rearranging her clothing so that she could nurse him.

Leaning back against a marble column, Atretes watched her body slowly relax in exhaustion. When he was sure she was sleeping, he lay down behind her and drew his own blanket over her and the baby. Her body was cold. He tucked her body firmly into the curve of his own so that his warmth could seep into her. She fitted him perfectly. The scent of her flesh aroused him, and he forced his thoughts to other things designed to chill his ardor. Gallus, for one.

Rizpah’s reminder had served its purpose. He had only met Pugnax once, and for business purposes. Bato had accompanied him. If not for the lanista’s presence, Atretes knew he might not have survived that night. The inn had been a mean little place compared to other establishments where he had been taken since then. Pugnax hadn’t much to show for his years in the arena. Atretes’ mouth curved bitterly. How much did he himself have to show for ten years of fighting for his life? Everything he had earned had been spent on that grand villa and its elaborate furnishings back in Ephesus. And for what? Julia. Beautiful, shallow, corrupt Julia.

Rizpah moved closer in her sleep, and Atretes sucked in his breath. Raising his head, he looked over her at his son. Even in her sleep, she snuggled the babe close, protecting and loving him. He brushed the stray tendrils of dark hair from her cheek and found her skin smooth and soft. He laid his head down again and closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep.

When he did, he dreamed he was chained in a small, dark cell without a door or window. There was no iron grate above him through which the guards could spy on him, only walls pressing in on him, the darkness growing. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came. He couldn’t breathe and struggled.

“Atretes,” someone said softly and he felt a gentle hand on his face. “It’s all right. Shhh.”

He drifted again, on calmer seas.

When he awakened, he saw Rizpah asleep beneath the marble bench. Annoyed, he prodded her. “It’s dawn.”

Atretes spent the last of his money on food on their way into the heart of the Empire. When he asked directions to the arena, Rizpah spoke for the first time all morning.

“Why are we going there?” He had been so determined to avoid it in Ephesus. Why was he seeking the place out in Rome?

“The Ludus Magnus is close by. I know a man there who can help me.” Just beyond the bustling construction of the colossal Flavian amphitheater was the ludus where he had spent the darkest years of his life.

“We can’t go there, Atretes.”

“There’s no other place we can go. You were right about Gallus,” he said grimly, “but there’s one man I can trust, and he’s at the ludus.”

“How can you trust anyone in that place?”

“Bato saved my life more than once.”

“A gladiator is worth more alive than dead.”

He took her by the arm and jerked her around, almost propelling her in the direction he intended to go. “We’re wasting time.” He looked at the thick walls as he came round to the heavy iron gate. Four guards were on duty, making sure that no amoratae gained admittance. Only paying customers were allowed in to view the gladiatorial practices or participate in them. He had first seen Julia standing on the spectators’ balcony. She had come with her promiscuous friend to view him in practice.

“Let’s go away from this place while we can,” Rizpah said.

His fingers tightened, silencing her. “Is Bato still lanista?” he said to one of the guards.

“None other,” the man said, glancing from Atretes to Rizpah. He smiled slightly, his gaze moving down over her in open admiration.

“Cover your face,” Atretes commanded her impatiently and stepped in front of her as she did so. “Tell Bato there’s a German at the gate who would speak with him,” he said coldly.

“Should he be impressed?” the guard said.

Another measured him, curious. “He looks familiar.”

“Send the message,” Atretes said.

The guard to whom he spoke gave a piercing whistle. Startled, Caleb began to cry in Rizpah’s arms. A messenger came on the run. “Inform Bato a barbarian wishes to have an audience with him,” the guard said.

Atretes waited until he saw Bato step out onto the balcony over the practice arena and look toward the gate before he removed his turban. The guards stared at his long blonde hair. “By the gods,” one said under his breath. “I know who this man is.”

Bato went back inside. The servant who had been sent with the message came running. “Admit him and escort him to Bato immediately.”

When the gate swung open, Rizpah held back. Atretes put his arm around her shoulders and drew her in alongside him. The gates closed behind them. His hand dropped to the small of her back, pressing her forward.

They crossed the courtyard and entered the building. Two guards escorted them down a long corridor and up marble steps to the second story. They walked along a portico overlooking a barren yard where twenty men, clad in little more than breechcloths, were going through a series of martial exercises. The trainer shouted sharp commands and walked back and forth along the front line, watching their performance. Against one wall, Rizpah saw a man tied to a post, his back showing the bloody stripes of a recent flogging.

Atretes took her arm and drew her along. “Say nothing.”

The two guards stopped outside an open doorway, and Atretes entered. He let go of her as soon as he passed the threshold. A black man stood in the middle of the room. He was as tall and as powerfully built as Atretes. Though he gave Rizpah nothing more than a cursory glance, she felt the impact of acute intelligence and grave dignity.

Without a word, Atretes drew the gold chain from his tunic and let the ivory chip drop against his chest. The African looked at it and smiled. “That answers my first question,” he said in heavily accented Greek. A mere lift of his head and the two guards departed. Rizpah could still hear the voice of the trainer in the compound. A whip cracked as a command was repeated.

“Would you care for some wine?”

“And food,” Atretes said.

Bato nodded once to a servant and the man departed to do his bidding. Bato studied Atretes briefly and then looked at Rizpah again, studying her this time. She was very beautiful and clearly distressed to be in the ludus. A baby was wrapped in a shawl tied around her shoulders, and she put her arms around him and drew him closer as Bato studied her. A whip cracked again, and this time a man gave a cry of pain. Wincing, she glanced toward the door, her face paling.

Atretes closed the door and gave her a light push into the center of the room. “Sit over there,” he told her in a tone that allowed no argument. She did as he commanded.

Bato poured wine. “What brings you back to Rome, Atretes?”

“I need money, lodgings, and a map to show me the way back to Germania.”

“Is that all?”

Ignoring the lanista’s sarcasm, Atretes took the proffered goblet.

Bato poured another and carried it to the woman. She had beautiful dark eyes like Julia Valerian, but it wasn’t her. “Sertes sent a representative about six months ago,” he said, looking at the child. The babe had her coloring. “I was informed you’d earned your freedom in an elimination match and now owned a villa grander than the proconsul.” She took the goblet from his hand and looked up at him. His mouth tipped slightly. He could see quite plainly that she didn’t trust him.

“I did,” Atretes said. He said nothing about Rizpah, though Bato was looking her over with open interest and unveiled question. The less he knew about her, the better. Women were of little value in this place.

“What happened?” Bato said, turning to him and leaving his perusal of the woman and child.

“I left Ephesus in a hurry.”

“Did you murder Sertes?”