As Sure as the Dawn (10 page)

His cold, cynical smile had a dismaying effect upon her. Her body responded to the look in his eyes, for having been married, she was not unfamiliar with a man’s needs, and what Lagos had just told her about Atretes’ inclination toward women was distressing. Certain things had to be made plain now. “You may play with Caleb anytime you wish, my lord, but do not think you can play with me.”

His brow lifted. “Why not?”

“Because it would strain an already tenuous relationship when I said no to you.”

Atretes laughed at her.

“I’m sincere, my lord.”

“It would
seem
so,” he said dryly. “But then sincerity is a trait rarely found among women. I’ve only known three who possessed it: my mother, my wife, Ania, and Hadassah.” He gave a bleak laugh. “And all three of them are dead.”

Rizpah felt a wave of compassion for him.

Atretes saw her dark brown eyes soften and fill with warmth. His heart responded even as his mind rebelled. “You may go,” he said, jerking his head in rude dismissal.

Rizpah scooped Caleb into her arms and rose, eager to depart. She felt his gaze follow her. She paused beneath the archway and looked back at him. For all his fierceness and hardness of heart, she sensed he was a man in terrible pain.

“I give you a solemn vow, Atretes. I will never lie.”

“Never?” he said mockingly.

She looked straight into his beautiful, empty blue eyes. “Never. No matter the cost. Even if it costs my life,” she said softly, then left him alone.

Sertes stood on the balcony overlooking the practice arena. Below him, two gladiators sparred, one with sword and shield, the other with trident and net. Disgusted with their unexciting display, he grasped the iron railing. “Use the coals on them!” he shouted down at the
lanista.

Shaking his head, he stepped back. “If this is the best we have to offer, no wonder the people are bored!” He turned to the man standing beside him. “What did you find out about the woman living in Atretes’ villa?”

“Her name is Rizpah, my lord. She’s a widow. Her husband was a silversmith who was run down by Ceius Attalus Plautilla.”

“Nephew of the proconsul?”

“The same. He’s given to excessive drinking and—”

“Never mind,” Sertes said, gesturing impatiently. “I know all about him already. What more did you learn about her?”

“She’s a Christian, my lord.”

“Ah,” Sertes said, smiling broadly. “That will be useful.” He rubbed his chin, thinking just how useful it could be, especially if Atretes was in love with her. “And the baby?”

“There’s conflicting information about the child, my lord. One source said the woman had a baby girl that died within a few months, while another argued she had a son who lived.”

“Perhaps the child is Atretes’.”

“I don’t think so. No one has ever seen this woman with Atretes, my lord. But it is strange. When I asked about her at the insula where she lived, I was told she took the baby one morning and left. A man came the next day and collected her things. She hasn’t been seen in the city since.”

“Keep looking. I have a feeling there’s more to this than we yet know.”

Atretes pushed the door of Rizpah’s chamber open and peered in. Moonlight streamed down from a small high window, casting a soft glow of light over the room. The baby’s bed was empty. Rizpah was lying asleep on a floor mat, curled on her side, his son nestled against her, warm and protected.

Entering silently, Atretes crouched and stared for a long moment at them. Then he looked around the small room. Against the east wall was a single trunk in which were Rizpah’s few possessions. On it was a small clay lamp, unlit. Other than those few things and the baby’s bed, the room was bare.

The small barren chamber reminded Atretes of his cell in the ludus: stone, cold, empty.

His gaze drifted again to Rizpah, moving up from her bare feet over the slender curves of her body. Her hair had come free and flowed black over her shoulder. He reached out and took a handful of it, rubbing it between his fingers. It was thick and silky. When she stirred, he snatched his hand away.

Opening her eyes, Rizpah saw a shadowy shape crouched in front of her. Breath catching in her throat, she scooped Caleb up and scooted quickly back against the wall, heart pounding.

“Don’t scream,” Atretes commanded.

Her breath came out shakily. “What’s happened? Why are you here in the middle of the night?”

He heard the tremor in her voice and knew he had frightened her. “Nothing’s happened,” he said gruffly, raking a hand back through his hair. He gave a hoarse laugh and lifted his head. Nightmares had awakened him again.

Rizpah saw his face in the moonlight. “Something
is
wrong.”

He looked at her again. “Why the name Caleb?”

The question was unexpected. “My husband told me about him.”

“Did your husband trade in men?”

She heard the dark anger in his tone. “No,” she said, wondering why he would make such an assumption.

“Caleb fought in Rome,” he said. “How would your husband know anything of him unless he traded in gladiators?”

She thought she understood. “There are many Calebs in the world, Atretes. The Caleb after whom I named your son lived hundreds of years ago. He came out of Egypt with Moses. When the people reached the Promised Land, twelve men were sent into Canaan to spy out the land. When they came back, Caleb told Moses and the people the land God had given them was good and they should take possession of it, but the others were afraid. They said the Canaanites were too strong and they wouldn’t conquer them. Moses took their advice rather than listen to Caleb. Because of that, all the people of that generation wandered in the wilderness. And when the end of the forty years came, only Caleb the son of Jephunneh and Joshua the son of Nun were allowed to enter the Promised Land. Only they followed the Lord wholeheartedly. Even Moses, the lawgiver, never set foot in the Promised Land.” She stretched out her legs and placed the baby on her thighs. “Caleb is a name for a man of strong faith and courage.”

“Caleb is a Jewish name, and my son is
German.”

She lifted her head. “Half German.”

Atretes stood so abruptly, her heart jumped. He loomed over her for a moment and then took a step away, leaning back against the wall to the right of the window opening. Standing where he was, his face was hidden in the shadows while the soft moonlight shone in on her.

“He should have a German name,” he said. Expecting an argument, he waited.

“What name would you wish to give him, my lord?”

He hadn’t thought about it until then. “Hermun,” he said with decision. “After my father. He was a great warrior-chieftain of the Chatti and died honorably in battle against Rome.”

“Caleb Hermun,” she said, testing the name.

“Hermun.”

She started to protest and then lowered her head. A contentious woman was worse than a leaking roof. And the child
was
his. She lifted her head again. “Hermun . . . Caleb?” she said tentatively, offering a compromise. “A warrior of strong faith and courage.”

Atretes said nothing, nor did he move from the shadows.

Rizpah felt uncomfortable beneath his stare. What was he thinking? “Who was the Caleb of whom you spoke?”

“A gladiator from Judea. One of Titus’ prizes.” His tone was bitter.

“Is he still alive?”

“No. We fought. I won.”

His voice was flat and bleak, and she felt sudden pity for him. “You knew him well?”

“A gladiator hasn’t the luxury of knowing anyone well.”

“But had you friends, you would have wanted to count him among them.”

“Why do you say that?” he said coldly.

“Your bitterness and the fact that you still remember him.”

He gave a harsh laugh. “I remember them all!” He put his head back against the cold stone wall and closed his eyes. He couldn’t forget them. He saw their faces every night. He could see their eyes as their life’s blood drained into the sand. No amount of drink could exorcise them.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.

Disbelieving, he looked down at her. The sheen of tears in her eyes angered him, for tears had been used against him before. Pushing away from the wall, he crouched down before her again and glared. “Why should
you
be sorry?” he sneered.

She was not intimidated. “Your life has been difficult.”

“I’ve survived.”

“At great cost.”

He gave a cold laugh and stood again, restless. “Better had I died. Yes? Then you would have the child all to yourself.”

“Had you died, Caleb might never have been born. And he is a gift from God, worth any sorrow.”

Atretes looked out the window at the bare compound and thick walls beyond. He felt as though he was back in the ludus. He wanted to scream and break down the walls.

Rizpah felt his wrath as though it was a dark being in the room with her. She recognized its malignant presence and the terrible danger of it. What could she possibly say to soothe him? She had no words. She couldn’t even imagine what his life had been like, nor was she sure she wanted to know. Her own had been difficult enough. She hadn’t the strength of faith to help him carry his burdens as well.

He turned. “We didn’t finish our conversation this afternoon.”

She saw Atretes wanted a fight, and it would appear she was the only available opponent with whom he could wage a battle.

We are mismatched, Lord. He can annihilate my heart.

“How long were you married?”

“Why do you ask me such a question?”

“It’s enough that I do!” he snapped, then drawled caustically, “You said you wouldn’t lie.”

“Nor will I.”

“Then answer.”

She gave him a pained smile. “Will you leave when I do?”

He wasn’t amused. “I will leave when I please.”

She let out her breath slowly, fighting the inclination to war with him as he wanted. “I was married for three years.” Caleb made a soft sound and she lifted him.

Atretes watched how she drew her shawl around her and his son so that they were wrapped together. “Were you faithful?”

She lifted her head and looked at him.
“Yes,
I was faithful.”

He sensed she was hiding something and hunkered down in front of her again, his eyes narrowed on her pale, moonlit face. “In our tribe, an unfaithful wife is stripped and whipped before the villagers. Then she’s killed.”

The hidden things of Rizpah’s own heart roused anger. “What of the man?”

“What do you mean, what of the man?”

“Adultery involves
two
people, doesn’t it?”

“Woman entices.”

She gave a soft laugh. “And man succumbs like a brainless ox?”

His hands tightened into fists as he thought of how easily he had fallen prey to Julia’s charms.

She laid Caleb down on her thighs again. “Man and woman are equal in the eyes of God,” she said, trying to keep her voice level.

He gave a cutting laugh. “Equal!”

“Shhh.” She put a finger to her lips. “You’ll wake him.” That should strike terror in this gladiator’s heart. She removed her shawl and covered the baby with it.

“Since when is a woman equal to a man?” he said between clenched teeth.

“Since the beginning when the Lord created both. And according to Mosaic law. The man and woman involved in adultery were
both
executed to prevent sin from spreading like a disease through the nation of Israel. Justice was to be dispensed equally.”

“I’m not a Jew!”

“Would that you were, my lord.” Even as she uttered the words, she regretted them. The silence that fell in the room was hot.
Forgive me, Father. Make me mute! I listen to him and remember my life before Shimei, before you. And I want to fight back, even when I know I can’t win.

“Did your husband permit you to talk like this?”

Shimei. Precious Shimei. Tender memories rescued her from darker ones. She smiled. “Shimei often threatened to beat me.”

“As well he should have.”

She lifted her chin. “His threats were empty and meant in jest. Much of what I know of Mosaic law, he taught me.”

“Ah,” he said with heavy sarcasm. “And what did he teach you?”

“That the heart of the law is mercy, but what God gave, man corrupted. Despite that, God prevails. God sent us his Son, Jesus, to be the sacrifice of atonement for all mankind, men
and
women. He was crucified, buried and raised from the dead, thus fulfilling hundreds of years of prophesies concerning the Messiah. God sent his only begotten Son into the world that whoever believes in him should not perish, but have eternal life.”

Atretes’ eyes glittered. “No god cares what happens to us.”

“The price paid for our redemption shows how much God does love us. Whatever you believe or don’t believe, Atretes, there’s only one truth and that truth is in Christ.”

“I believe in vengeance.”

She felt saddened at the unrelenting quality of his voice. “And judgment. Judge, and you shall be judged with the same measure of mercy you mete out.”

He gave a hard laugh.

“God is not partial,” she said. “You can’t bribe him or overpower him. He doesn’t think as man thinks. If you stand on the law,
any
law—Ephesian, Roman, or German—you bear the judgment already for disobedience. And the sentence is always the same. Death.”