As Sure as the Dawn (59 page)

Anomia arched her brows, her blue eyes flickering. “Have you heard me say that?”

“I heard enough to know you’ve frightened Marta into believing it. Why would you do such a thing unless you believe it yourself?”

“I do believe it’s true.”
And Tiwaz has done it for me, you weak fool. For
me!

“You
believe.
Do you
know?”

Freyja’s tone roused Anomia’s pride. How dare she speak to her in this manner?

“Marta is impressionable,” Freyja said, seeing the dangerous light in the younger woman’s eyes. “Unless you know, without doubt, that Tiwaz is displeased with her, don’t even suggest it.”

Anomia wanted to say if Marta was so impressionable, she would have heeded her command to not speak to the Ionian, but she held her tongue. “Do you think you’re the only one to whom Tiwaz speaks?”

Freyja felt a sudden chill at the look in the younger woman’s eyes. She knew instinctively that Anomia was behind whatever was wrong with Marta, but to accuse her would rouse her wrath rather than employ the girl’s supernatural powers for the needed cause, to cure Marta.

“If Tiwaz speaks to you, listen. But as a high priestess, you must remember you seek mercy for your people.”
And not power for yourself,
she wanted to add.

Anomia sensed Freyja’s fear and savored it. “I have listened,” she said with a faint smile. “And I do seek what’s best for our people.” Who knew better than she what the Chatti needed? Certainly not this pathetic soul who wished for peace.

Freyja had known Anomia since she was a small child and knew her greatest weakness. “Then you’ve failed, haven’t you?”

“Failed?”

“If you had the ear of Tiwaz, Marta would be well, wouldn’t she?” She watched the dark fire flash in Anomia’s blue eyes. “It would seem I’ve been wrong about you,” she said, hiding her anger and fear.

“Wrong?” Anomia said, raising her brows. “Wrong about what?”

“I thought you had power.”

The challenge rushed to Anomia’s head, a flush of heat spreading down through her entire body. “I
have
power.”

“Not enough, apparently,” Freyja said. Shaking her head in feigned disappointment, she left the young priestess standing outside the door of the longhouse.

Anomia gritted her teeth to keep from screaming. How dare Freyja doubt her powers? Spinning around, she walked down the street. Varus called out to her, but she ignored him and went into her house. Closing the door, she leaned back against it. Her nails clawed at the wood as she uttered a feral growl in her throat. Shaking with rage, she went to her altar and knelt down. She would show Freyja the power she had!

As night fell, she rose with a blinding headache and mixed an antidote for the spell she had cast. Taking the mixture, she crept through the cold night and anointed Marta’s house with it, fully expecting Tiwaz to give her what she demanded by morning.

He didn’t.

Freyja had never seen Anomia so upset. The young priestess had come into Marta’s house without even knocking, fully expecting her to be well. Seeing Marta still in bed, she stared at her in disbelief. “It can’t be,” she gasped. “He wouldn’t do this to me.” She came forward a step, her face reddening. Spinning around, she left.

“Where’s she going?” Usipi said, his face flooding with fear. “Did you see her eyes?”

“I don’t know where she’s going,” Freyja said, hoping it was well away from Marta. She beckoned her grandson, Derek, and asked him to follow at a distance. When he returned, he told them Anomia had gone to the sacred forest. Too young to enter, he had stopped at the border and come back.

Whatever efforts Anomia had made to appease Tiwaz had had no effect, and that frightened Freyja into desperate measures. Having tried everything she knew, she went to speak with Rizpah.

She found her stirring stew over the cook fire.

“If you can do anything for my daughter, do it and do it quickly.”

Rizpah was astonished at the urgent request, wondering at her sudden change of heart. “What’s happened?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all has happened. I’ve tried everything I know. And Anomia . . .” She shook her head. “If you can do something, please help her.”

Rizpah was at a loss. What did Freyja think she could do that hadn’t been done? She had been praying for Marta since she had become ill, but knew telling Freyja that would bring no comfort at all. More likely it would exacerbate her worry. “I know of no cures, Lady Freyja. I’m sorry. Only the Lord heals.”

Freyja swayed, and Rizpah quickly came to her. “Atretes! Come quickly!”

Atretes came at a run from the stall he was mending. “What is it?” Seeing his mother in her arms, he shoved the gate open and strode across the room. Catching his mother up in his arms, he carried her to her bed and laid her upon it.

“Has she a fever?” Rizpah said, greatly concerned.

Atretes put his hand on her head. “No.”

Freyja’s eyelids quivered and she moaned softly. “I need to go back.”

“She’s exhausted. She needs to rest.”

“She
will
rest. I’ll see to it.” He looked around and saw Caleb playing with some blocks of wood he had made for him. “The boy’s fine and occupied. You see to Marta.”

Rizpah took up her shawl and went out quickly. She crossed the street and knocked at Usipi’s door. When he opened the door slightly, she was filled with compassion at the weary despair etched into his face. “May I come in?”

Usipi hesitated for a moment, scanning the street quickly before opening the door just wide enough for her to come inside. As soon as she entered, she felt the oppressiveness of their home. It was dark and filled with shadows. She sensed the presence of something malevolent within the confines of the longhouse walls. The odor of garlic made her head swim. If it was difficult for her to breathe without feeling faint, how much worse must it be for Marta and Usipi and the children?

Lord, Lord, drive out the evil I feel surrounding me. I feel devoured by eyes.

“Please remove the garlic, Usipi,” she said, taking off her shawl. “It’s overpowering.”

“It keeps evil spirits away,” he said, making no move to do her bidding. He looked worse than Freyja.

“It would drive anything away. At least allow me to open the doors and let air pass through.”

He was too tired to argue or even care about garlic. All he cared about was Marta, and he was losing her. Without a word, he went back and sat beside his wife’s bed.

Rizpah quickly opened every door and window. Light streamed in, bringing with it a welcome scent of pine and fresh air. She spoke briefly to Elsa, and the girl went out, taking little Luisa with her. Returning to Usipi, Rizpah put her hand on his shoulder. “Sleep for a while, Usipi. I’ll sit with Marta.”

“No.”

Compassion filled her. If Atretes were lying ill, she wouldn’t leave him, either. “Then lie down on the bed on the other side of her.” She helped him rise and do as she asked. He was asleep as soon as he put his head down.

Marta’s eyes opened. Rizpah smiled down at her as she put a blanket over Usipi. She came back around the bed and sat in his place. “Don’t be afraid,” she said and took Marta’s limp hand in both her own. She rubbed it, praying silently that fear would depart. After a few minutes, Marta relaxed a little, and Rizpah praised the Lord.

Rizpah rose and put her palm gently against Marta’s forehead. It was hot and dry. “Would you like a cool cup of water?”

Marta nodded.

Pouring some, Rizpah helped her sit up enough to drink it. Marta sipped a little at first and then drank deeply. She lay back weakly. “I haven’t been able to hold anything down,” she said in a weak raspy voice.

“Then I pray this time you will.” And she did, silently.

Rizpah dampened a cloth. Marta felt all the fear ebb from her as Rizpah washed her face as gently as she would a baby. “Where are my children?”

“Derek is outside, sitting by the wall. Elsa is with Caleb. She took Luisa with her. I hope you don’t mind, but I asked if she would help Atretes watch Caleb while I’m with you.”

Marta smiled tremulously. “No, I don’t mind. She’s been pleading with me . . .” A frown flickered. Regret. Shame. She looked at Rizpah and saw no ill feelings, though she had due cause for them. “She’ll enjoy it.” Why had she listened to Anomia when she had known the moment she met Rizpah that she was kind and trustworthy?

“So will Caleb,” Rizpah said as she wrung out the cloth again. She dabbed it gently to Marta’s face, smiling. “He adores Elsa, but I think it’s Luisa who’s stolen his heart.”

Casting away Anomia’s warning, Marta smiled back. She forgot her fears. She forgot everything but how tired she was. Rizpah’s touch was as gentle as her mother’s, her voice and manner as soft and loving, somehow even more so. Marta relaxed within it, feeling safe, feeling hope. “I’m glad you’re here. I’m so glad.” The terrible anxiety that had filled her for days dissipated like a thin mist beneath the warmth of the sun. Just for an instant, she thought she heard a sound like the keening of bats fleeing.

Beads of perspiration broke out on Marta’s face. “I think your fever’s breaking,” Rizpah said, stroking her gently. “All is well, Marta.” She sat beside her again and took her hand. “Sleep.”

“Will you stay?”

“I’ll be with you until you tell me to go.”
Lord, be with us. Protect us from the evil I felt in this house when I entered. Put angels around us. Father God, keep us safely in the palm of your hand.

She prayed silently all the while she watched over Atretes’ sister.

And for the first time in many days, Marta wasn’t tormented by dreams. She slept peacefully, dreaming of a beautiful garden where she and Usipi and their children walked together in the company of a man who shone like sunlight.

“Of course she
cured
her,” Anomia said, trembling within at the news that Marta was well and that the fever had broken within an hour after that dark-eyed Ionian witch had been given entrance to the house. “It was probably that woman who cast the spell in the first place.” Jealous fury burned within her.

“It does stand to reason that the one who cast the spell would naturally have the power and knowledge to stop it,” Freyja said and was surprised by the flash of venomous anger in Anomia’s eyes, “but I doubt it was Rizpah who cast it.”

“Why do you doubt it?”

“She wouldn’t do such a thing,” Freyja said.

“How do you know she wouldn’t?”

Freyja’s brows flickered at Anomia’s sharp tone. “Because I’ve seen nothing but compassion flow from her.” She suffered herself to look straight into Anomia’s eyes. “Besides, it was
you
who told Marta the sickness was brought on by Tiwaz. It was you who said Tiwaz had revealed this to you in a dream. It was you who said she had been disobedient and had displeased him and that Tiwaz wanted her to listen to you. Are you saying now that wasn’t so? Or are you telling me now that you were wrong in your interpretation?”

Anomia felt hot and cold with every word Freyja spoke. She was trapped, and her mind worked furiously to find a way to lay the blame elsewhere. She wanted to insist Rizpah was the cause of all the trouble, but her own proclamations prevented her from doing so. “It was Tiwaz. He did speak to me,” she lied and then plowed the ground for more seeds of destruction. “It just seems very curious that Tiwaz would release Marta with an outsider present.”

Freyja had thought it curious as well and come to her own conclusions. “Rizpah isn’t an outsider. She’s my son’s wife.”

Jealousy wrenched Anomia’s heart at her words.
Wife.
The title ripped at her pride.
Atretes’
wife. Her blood sizzled.
Wife!
The word circled in her mind like a carrion bird, mocking her. Used in connection to that woman, it was an abomination. Yet one look into Freyja’s eyes and she knew to speak against the Ionian now would bring suspicion upon herself.

“I’m going to the sacred wood to give a sacrifice of thanks-giving,” Freyja said. “Would you like to come with me?”

Anomia could think of nothing she would detest more. Give thanks? For what? She had revealed her power in casting the spell on Marta, and no one could know of it. Instead, the foreigner’s mere presence in the household was enough to convince the villagers she had appeased Tiwaz in some way. It didn’t matter that it made no sense. She couldn’t argue without casting suspicion on herself.

The whole thing had turned back on her!
Why, Tiwaz? What game are you playing with me now? That Ionian witch is as much your enemy as mine. And she’s being held in higher esteem than before the spell. She’s no longer being treated as an outsider. Do you see how she stands in plain view of me, talking with Herigast’s wife?

“Of course I’ll go with you,” Anomia said, her beautiful face showing none of her inner turmoil.

But Freyja sensed it, and was given further cause to doubt.

“Roman!” came the whispered voice. “Are you awake?”

“Awake and waiting,” Theophilus said, yawning hugely. He had spent most of the day hunting. The Lord was provident, for he had been hunting for a meal and now had enough meat to last through the coming winter. Even now, the strips of venison were hanging above alder smoke. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”