As Sure as the Dawn (41 page)

“Your feet will stay dry and warm in those. I had them rubbed with beeswax.” He pulled out a heavy woolen cloak and stood. “This’ll keep you from freezing in the snow, and there’ll be plenty where we’re going.”

Dropping the boots, she pressed her face into the woolen tunic and cried.

Atretes stood silent, embarrassed. He listened grimly to her sobs and wanted to comfort her. He knew he couldn’t. The baby was asleep, Theophilus miles away, and they were alone in this bedchamber. What he felt was too strong. And he knew she felt it, too. If he touched her, he might not listen to any protest she might utter. He didn’t trust himself where she was concerned. His baser instincts had been honed to reign too long. He didn’t want any more regrets. He lived with enough already.

“If you put those things on
now,
Rizpah, we
might
make a couple of miles before it gets dark.”

Sniffling, Rizpah stood and loosened her sash. She pulled the heavy woolen tunic over her head. It dropped in loose comfortable folds down to her ankles. She tied her sash and sat down again, pulling on the boots. She looped the leather laces and pulled them snug before tying them and folding down the tops so they fit midcalf. She stood and thanked God she wouldn’t have to walk another mile in her worn sandals.

“Thank you,” she said simply, trying not to cry again. “They’re a perfect fit. How did you know?”

He came and put the cloak around her. “I took one of your sandals with me.” He held onto the edges of the garment, staring into her eyes, his pulse pounding. A fierce tenderness filled him, and a desire to protect her. He didn’t like what she made him feel and let go of her.

“When we get to Germania, you will tell no one what you told me,” he said, rearranging his gear for easier carry. When she said nothing, he picked the pack up and turned to look at her. “Give me your word.”

“I can’t. You know I can’t.”

He couldn’t believe she refused. “I told you what they’d do to you. My people don’t give second chances.” There was a time when he wouldn’t have either. She was making him weak.

“I won’t lie.”

He stared at her. “They’ll kill you if they find out.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

No matter the cost,
she had said before and she was holding to it. She wouldn’t compromise. A part of him was glad. A part of him felt safe in her answer because he knew he could trust her. But another part knew fear. She mattered to him already far more than he cared to admit, and the Chatti showed no mercy.

“All right. Let it be as you say. Don’t lie. Just don’t say anything.” He slung the pack onto his back.

“The way I said nothing to you. I should’ve told you all about myself when you first began asking questions instead of giving you information piecemeal.”

He crossed the room and leaned down to speak straight into her face. “If you’d told me everything the day you arrived, you wouldn’t be alive right now! I would’ve killed you without blinking an eye and been glad of it.” She stood uncowed, not even flinching. He straightened. “I wouldn’t have had the months of living with you to learn what sort of woman you are
now.”

“So I’m
good
now, Atretes? I just threw a chicken leg at your head.”

He grinned. “And missed.”

“I still struggle against the flesh. Every day, sometimes every hour.”

“And you think I don’t?” he said, his gaze moving down over her.

She blushed, feeling hot all over. “That’s
not
what I meant.”

“Get the boy and let’s go.” He had to get out of this room,
now.

She did as he said. They went down the portico and out through the main courtyard to the antechamber. Soldiers were everywhere, a good many of them noticing Rizpah. Ignoring them, Atretes clamped his hand on her arm and headed straight for the wide doorway into the street, eager to be out in the open.

“You’re hurting me,” Rizpah said and let out her breath when he let go of her. He was walking fast, too fast. She had to make two steps to his one and was quickly out of breath. “I can’t keep your pace, Atretes,” she said, hating to complain.

He slowed. “This way,” he said and started down a main thoroughfare that headed north. They passed through the gates, crossed a bridge, and headed up the road into the growing darkness. They passed one milestone, then another. Stars were beginning to appear. They passed another milestone. Arms aching, Rizpah shifted Caleb.

When they came upon the fourth milestone, she stopped. “It’s almost dark.”

“We can make another mile.”

“I thought you wanted distance between you and Theophilus,” she said and walked off the road. She sat down wearily against a tree trunk. Caleb was still sleeping. His day with Atretes must have worn him out. She placed him on the grass and then lay down beside him, curling around him to keep him warm.

Atretes dumped his packs, clearly annoyed to be stopping.

“I’ll try to do better tomorrow, Atretes,” she said.

He moved about restlessly and then sat a few feet away, knees drawn up, forearms resting on them. He looked at the sky. “We could’ve made another mile.”

They left as the sun was coming up, and Rizpah had nursed Caleb. Atretes bought bread and apples as they passed through a village. Rizpah fed Caleb bits of both as he rode contentedly on her hip. She helped him drink from a skin holding watered wine.

Near noon, a company of soldiers rode toward them. Rizpah saw Theophilus among them and called out to him. They paused as the Roman dismounted and untied his pack from the horse. Slinging it over his shoulder, he spoke cheerfully to the others before heading toward them. One of the soldiers grasped the reins of Theophilus’ mount and they continued on down the road.

Theophilus looked Rizpah over, noting the new cloak, tunic, and boots. “So that’s where you went,” he said to Atretes.

Glowering at him, Atretes started off again.

Theophilus fell into step beside Rizpah. “Have you two been getting along well without me?” he said, his mouth tipping up.

“Well enough,” Atretes answered for her and kept walking.

Theophilus grinned at Rizpah. “At least you’re glad to see me.”

They made good distance over the next days, passing through Campiglia Maritima, Cecina, Livorno, Pisa, and Viareggio. They camped each night near the road. Theophilus purchased more supplies in La Spezia. Atretes insisted on taking the shorter route along the mountainous coastal road rather than the one that went inland.

When they reached Genova, Theophilus arranged lodgings again, this time at an inn not frequented by soldiers and farther from the public baths. Atretes entered the baths this time without comment. When Rizpah asked permission to leave his side, he gave it without hesitation. She took Caleb into a bath chamber with other young mothers while he followed Theophilus into the main chambers.

Fewer people bathed naked in this place. Atretes decided the further one got from Rome, the more provincial the morals. He found himself relaxing in the environment and even enjoying it. He took his time while Theophilus waited, bearing the money pouches and talking with some men who appeared, by their bearing and build, to be soldiers.

“The roads are safe through the mountain pass,” Theophilus told him when he returned for his clothing.

“Good. We will make better time.” He donned his tunic and belt and took the pouches.

Theophilus wondered if Atretes realized his German accent got thicker the further north they went. “We’re not going to be able to keep the same pace,” he said, stripping off his tunic. “It’s a hard climb to Novi. Then we can pick up the pace again through Alessandria and Vercelli. We’ll be following the Dora Baltea from there to Aosta, and that’s a harder climb. Crossing the mountains to Novi is going to be difficult on Rizpah, but nothing compared to what’s ahead. We’ve got the Graian and Pennine Alps to go over.”

“We could buy a couple of donkeys. One can carry the gear and the other, Rizpah and Caleb.”

“I can get us a good price at the fort.”

Atretes’ expression darkened. “It’s bad enough suffering your company without doing commerce with Roman soldiers as well!”

Theophilus refused to take offense. “An army donkey is as good as a civilian donkey. And cheaper.” He tossed his tunic on the stone bench and dove into the pool. When he came up, Atretes was gone. Shaking his head, Theophilus gave the barbarian up to God. Nothing he could say or do was going to change Atretes’ opinion of anything. All the German could see was his enemy, Rome, standing in front of him. He was blind and deaf to all else.

Lord, if I can’t reach Atretes with your gospel now, how am I ever going to reach the Chatti?
he wondered sadly.

Of one thing Theophilus was certain. Atretes’ Germanic practicality would win over his insufferable pride. Their money wasn’t inexhaustible, and they still had a long, long way to go. Army donkeys would have to do.

The two donkeys Theophilus purchased from the army made mountain traveling much easier. One carried the gear that had burdened the Roman and Atretes; on the other, Rizpah fashioned a seat for Caleb with packs, blankets, and leather straps. She walked alongside, holding a lead rope and carrying a stick. Caleb was delighted with the bouncing gait of the small beast, and with such a light load, the animal needed little prodding.

Winter was over and spring was coming on, swelling the rivers with melted snow. The steep roads were grueling and the air grew progressively cooler. Beech and birch gave way to spruce, pine, and fir as they followed the Roman road upward.

Rizpah filled her lungs with the wonderful scent, giving thanks to God. She loved the majesty of the mountains around her, though there were places of fearsome heights and sharp drops. The way was treacherous, for the rule of Roman road building was to connect cities and territories by the shortest route, and that was not necessarily the easiest. By noon each day, her legs ached, and by the time they made camp, her muscles trembled with exhaustion.

They found a sizable contingent of soldiers in residence at Aosta. Theophilus said the number was evidence of trouble ahead and went to the fort to find out whatever he could about the conditions they would be facing going over the Pennine Alps. Rizpah remained at the camp with Caleb and Atretes.

The mountains around them were sheer and white, the air crisp and chill. “I’ve never imagined a place so beautiful and merciless.” She looked at Atretes sitting across the fire, and she felt, in some small way, she was beginning to understand him.

“We go down from these mountains into the forests of my homeland,” he said without raising his head to look at her. “The air is not so thin, and there are no mountains like these.”

“Do you remember all this from when you were brought to Rome?”

He looked up at the immense mountain to the northeast. Yes, he remembered. “We go down from here to the Rhone River. We follow that to the Rhine. From there, I can find my own way.”

Rizpah felt a chill at the way he said it. “Theophilus is our friend, Atretes.”

“He is Roman.”

She had never seen eyes so cold. “All this time, all this way, and still you can’t trust him?”

“Why should I trust him? What reason does a Roman centurion go to Germania?”

“He wants to give the Good News to your people.”

He gave a sardonic laugh. “A soldier wants to know an enemy’s strength and weakness so he can report back to his commander.”

“He’s no longer part of the Roman army.”

“So he says.” He jerked his chin. “He was with Titus before we left Rome. And he never passes through a city without going to the fort, does he?”

“You’re wrong to suspect him, Atretes. Theophilus goes to the forts to learn what lies ahead, to be prepared for our sake.”

“You’re a woman. What do you know of war?”

“You’re right, Atretes. I know nothing of war. But I do know Theophilus. I trust him with my life. I trust him with Caleb’s.” She heard footsteps and saw him coming toward them.

“Brigands,” Theophilus said grimly, crouching near the fire. “A Roman official was robbed and murdered a few days ago.”

“Should we wait before going on?” Rizpah said, worried for Caleb’s safety.

Atretes threw a stick into the fire and rose. “We go on.” Nothing was going to stop him from getting home, not Romans, not brigands, not even the gods. Only when they were over the mountains and down into the black forests of his homeland would he breathe the air of freedom. And once there, he would decide what to do about Theophilus. He leaned down and took the wineskin and went out into the darkness.

Theophilus saw Rizpah’s distress and offered what reassurance he could. “Extra patrols are traveling the road.”

“It gets harder the further we go. Sometimes I think the closer we get to Germania, the further we go from God.”

“God is with us, Rizpah.”

“It’s so cold.” She drew the cloak Atretes had given her around herself. “He still doesn’t trust you.”

“I know.”

“He knows his way from the Rhine.”

Theophilus nodded. “You and I both know if it’s God’s will we reach Germania together, we will reach Germania together.”