Atretes struggled to hold his temper. She was right, which only maddened him further. He had watched her yesterday and the day before, and he’d found himself enjoying the activity, possibly for the same reasons Sertes had just enjoyed watching her. She was beautiful. And she knew, for the sake of his son, he couldn’t throw her out the gate. His hands sorely itched to throttle her. He had seen the look of speculation in Sertes’ eyes before he’d left.
Rizpah saw the conflicting emotions in the German’s face, anger overriding everything else—and felt remorse. God still had much work to do with her and her sharp tongue. She should have handled things differently. She should have sealed her lips and gone into the villa and chosen a better time to state her opinions. With a resigned sigh, she sat Caleb on her hip. “What’s happened that you think it necessary to keep Caleb in the confines of the villa?”
Atretes watched his son grasp the front of her tunic, pulling it slightly. “It’s enough that I command you.”
“Must we go through this again?” she said with strained patience. “Has it something to do with the friend that was visiting with you?”
“He is no friend! His name is Sertes, and he’s editor of the Ephesian games.”
“Oh,” she said. “He came to talk you into fighting again, didn’t he?”
“Yes.”
She frowned. “Did he succeed?”
“No.”
She sensed there was something very serious behind his anger. She tried again. “You must tell me where the danger lies, Atretes. I seem to have blundered, but I don’t know how.”
He saw no other way to convince the stubborn woman but to tell her the truth. “If Sertes could find a way to force me to fight again, he would do it. He asked who you were. I said you were a servant. He asked about him.” He nodded curtly at his son.
Her heart began to race as she sensed the danger. “And?”
“I said the child was yours.”
She let out her breath, her mouth curving ruefully. “That must have choked you.”
“You think the situation amusing?” he said through his teeth.
Rizpah sighed. In another moment he wouldn’t be able to think clearly through the red haze of his rising temper. “No,” she said calmly. “I don’t think it’s amusing. I think it’s very serious, and I’ll do as you say.”
Her capitulation took him off guard. It was the one thing he had not expected. She always fought him, always had something to say in response to his demands. He’d known that coming to her would involve a fight—at least, so he’d thought. And he’d been ready for that. But he hadn’t been ready for this calm agreement! Cursed woman! he thought irrationally. What is she up to now?
Speechless with frustration, Atretes watched her walk away. She went around the side of the villa. Still hungry for a good fight, he went after her. She was entering the back door of the villa when he caught up with her. She glanced back at him. “Would you like to play with your son for a while?”
He stopped inside the doorway. “Play?” he said, taken aback.
“Yes, play.”
“I haven’t time.”
“All you have is time,” she said and entered the bath chamber.
“What did you say to me?”
She turned to face him, smiling sweetly. Too sweetly. “I said, all you have is time.” He opened his mouth for a scathing reply, but she cut him off. “You’d enjoy playing with Caleb more than running around in the hills and jumping over rocks or spending hours in your gymnasium lifting weights and terrorizing your guards.”
A hot flush came over his face.
“Here,” she said, and before he could think of a retort burning enough, she handed the baby to him.
His rage evaporated in a wave of alarm. “Where are you going?”
“I need to find some clean linen. Caleb’s soaking through those wraps.” Smiling faintly, she walked away.
Atretes grimaced. He could feel the dampness seeping through his fresh tunic where he clutched the infant to his chest. When his son began nuzzling his chest hairs, Atretes held him away. “He’s hungry!” he called out, unaware of the slightly frantic note in his voice.
Rizpah stopped beneath the archway. “Be at ease, Atretes. He’s not that hungry.” She laughed, and the musical sound floated around him in the marble-tiled chamber. Her eyes sparkled with amusement. “Besides, I doubt he’ll draw much blood. Not until he has teeth.” And with that, she walked from the room.
Alone with his son, Atretes paced nervously. He held the babe at arm’s length, but Caleb squirmed and looked ready to cry, so Atretes held him close again, cold sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. He found it ironic that he had faced death hundreds of times and never been reduced to the vulnerability he felt now, holding a baby—his baby.
Caleb’s tiny, pudgy fingers grasped the ivory chip hanging from a gold chain around his father’s neck and stuffed a corner of it into his mouth.
Scowling, Atretes tugged the medallion declaring its freedom from his son’s mouth. He tucked it quickly out of reach inside his tunic, muttering under his breath about women who deserted their babies. His son’s lip quivered.
“Don’t start crying,” he said gruffly.
Caleb’s mouth opened wide.
“By the gods, not again,” Atretes groaned. He winced at the howling wail that came forth. How was it possible for such a small creature to make so much noise? “Very well. Eat it!” he said, pulling the chain out from beneath his tunic and dangling it temptingly before his son. Still whimpering, Caleb grasped the chip and gummed it.
Atretes carried his son over to a massage table and placed him on it. The child positively reeked.
“Rizpah!” Her name echoed off the marble muraled walls around him. Caleb lost hold of the chip again and screamed. Gritting his teeth and holding his breath, Atretes unwound the soiled wraps and tossed them in a heap near the wall. “You need a bath, boy. You stink!” He picked the baby up and carried him into the pool. Caleb stopped screaming as he felt the warm water of the tepidarium swirl up around him. Gurgling happily, he grabbed the chip again and pounded it against his father’s chest, splashing water into Atretes’ face.
Supporting his son under the arms, Atretes held him away and dipped him up and down in the water. Caleb squealed with delight, fists hitting the water. Atretes’ mouth softened and tipped up on one side. He studied Caleb as he splashed. The babe had Julia’s dark eyes and hair. Frowning, he wondered how much else of her was in him.
Suddenly he knew he was no longer alone. He looked up to see Rizpah standing in the archway, linens draped over her arm. “You called, my lord?” she said dryly, eyes dancing with laughter. She came to the edge of the pool and watched him wash Caleb. Laughing, she said, “He’s a baby, Atretes, not a garment.”
“He needed a bath,” Atretes said as he walked up the steps out of the pool. Caleb didn’t like the cool air as much as the warm water and began fussing again. “Take him,” Atretes said, holding him out to her.
Tossing the linens onto her shoulder, she did as he asked. She kissed Caleb’s wet cheek. “Did you have a nice bath?” she said, laughing at his happy chuckle. She bounced him gently as she headed for the massage table.
Atretes stood watching the woman. Her voice was soft and sweet, and she laughed and leaned down, letting Caleb grab her thumbs. Kissing the baby’s chest, she blew air into his belly button. Caleb gave out that funny chuckle again. Mouth tipping, Atretes walked over to watch his son kicking and waving his arms happily. Rizpah ignored his presence and talked to the baby the whole time she swaddled him in linen, but as she lifted Caleb, she glanced up at Atretes. Her expression held awareness.
His pulse jumped, and with it, his wariness. He’d seen beautiful dark eyes like hers before.
Rizpah was disturbed by the intensity of his look, for it touched her in some instinctive elemental realm. When his gaze moved downward, she felt a flush of warmth spread through her entire body. Lord, no! S
he drew back a step, holding Caleb against her like a shield. “You will please excuse me, my lord,” she said, eager to take Caleb and escape those predatory eyes.
“No, I will not.”
She blinked. “My lord?”
“Take him into the triclinium.”
“Why?”
“Do I need a reason?”
She hesitated, uncertain as to his motives, distressed by the emotions stirring within her.
“Do I?” he said, eyes narrowing.
“No, my lord.”
“Then do what you’re told.”
Why must he use that tone with her? She was not his servant! True, she was there, in his home, by his permission to care for his son—for the babe she loved as her own. But she was not a servant. “Caleb is ready to be fed and put down to rest,” she said, trying to keep calm.
“He can do both in the triclinium.”
Seeing he had no intention of relenting, she carried Caleb out of the baths with Atretes following. The inner corridor was thankfully cool. She entered the lavishly furnished dining room and sat down on a couch. Within minutes, Caleb fell asleep, and she wrapped her shawl around him, laid him on the couch, and placed cushions around him. Her hands shook as she folded them tightly in her lap and waited.
Atretes looked at her. “Are you hungry?” he said dryly.
“Not very,” she said frankly. Feeling his gaze, Rizpah took up Caleb and held him, comforted by the warmth of his small body.
Atretes looked at the way she held his son cradled tenderly on her thighs. “It’s occurred to me I know very little about you,” he said, reclining on the couch opposite her and studying her face. She was beautiful.
Even relaxed, Rizpah sensed the alertness about him.
“What happened to your husband?” Atretes asked in a low voice.
Surprised and dismayed by the question, she said, “He died.”
“I know he died,” Atretes said with a cold laugh. “You wouldn’t be a widow had he not. What I want to know is how he died.”
She looked down at Caleb’s precious face, stilling the pain rising inside her. Why must he ask about such things? “My husband was struck down by a chariot,” she said softly.
“Did you ever find out who was driving the chariot?”
“I knew on the day it happened. The man was a Roman official.”
“I wager he didn’t even stop.”
“No, he didn’t.”
Atretes’ mouth curved slightly. “It seems we share a common hatred of Romans.”
His observation caused swift concern. “I don’t hate anyone.”
“Don’t you?”
She paled, wondering. Hadn’t she overcome her feelings about what had happened? Was she still harboring anger against the man whose carelessness had cost the life of a man for whom she had cared deeply.
Lord, if it be so, cleanse me of it. Search me and change my heart, Father. “It’s not the Lord’s will that I hate anyone.”
“The Lord?”
“Jesus, the Christ, the Son of the living God.”
“Hadassah’s God.”
“Yes.”
“We will not talk of him,” he said dismissively as he rose from the couch. He poured wine into a silver goblet. A second goblet was on the tray, but he offered her nothing.
“It’s the one thing I would wish to talk about with you,” she said quietly.
He slammed the pitcher down so hard she jumped. Caleb awakened and started to cry.
“Pacify him!”
She lifted Caleb to her shoulder and rubbed his back. He cried harder.
“Make him stop crying!”
She rose, distressed. “May I have your permission to leave the room?”
“No!”
“He’ll go back to sleep if I nurse him.”
“Then do so!”
“I can’t! Not with you staring at me!”
Atretes paced on the other side of the room, his face rigid as he glared at her. “By the gods, woman. Sit down and give him what he wants!”
“Stop shouting!” she responded with equal heat, then was immediately ashamed of her outburst. This wretched man brought out the worst in her!
Shaking with frustration, Rizpah plunked down. Presenting her back to Atretes, she set about tending the baby. Her shawl was wrapped around Caleb, and she needed it to drape over herself for modesty. Her hands shook as she removed it.
She let out her breath as Caleb began nursing and the room fell silent. She heard the scrape of metal against metal and knew Atretes was pouring himself more wine. Did he intend to get drunk? He was intimidating enough when sober. She didn’t even want to think what he would be like reeling from too much wine.
An image of her own father rose like a demon, gripping her mind with anger and fear. Remembered violence. She shuddered and pressed it away. Judge not lest ye be judged. Forgive and be forgiven. Ask and it shall be given. She grasped hold of the promises, clinging.
Lord, walk with me through this valley. Talk with me. Open my ears and heart that I may hear.
“What are you muttering?” Atretes growled.
“I’m praying for help,” she snapped, heart still pounding fast and hard. She was surprised Caleb didn’t notice her tension.
“Is he asleep yet?” Atretes said quietly from behind her.
“Almost.” Caleb’s eyelids looked weighted. His mouth relaxed and then began to work again. Finally, he relaxed completely.
“Thank the gods,” Atretes said with a sigh and reclined. He watched Rizpah’s back as she readjusted her clothing. Sitting sideways on the couch, she began wrapping his son in her shawl again. “What happened to your own child?” Her hands went still, and he saw the soft color ebb from her cheeks.
“She took fever and died in her third month,” she said tremulously. She lightly brushed Caleb’s cheek. Turning on the couch, she looked at Atretes, her eyes awash with tears. “Why do you ask me these questions?”
“I’d like to know a little more about the woman who nurses my son.”
Her dark eyes flashed. “How much did you know about the woman you bought to nurse him, other than that she was German?”
“Perhaps my interest in you has changed.”
His cold, cynical smile had a dismaying effect upon her. Color swept into her face, but when she spoke, it was in cool, level tones. “You may play with Caleb any time 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 am 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 first 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, and his heart responded even as his mind rebelled. “You may go,” he said, jerking his head in rude dismissal.
With relief, Rizpah scooped Caleb into her arms and rose. She felt Atretes’ gaze follow her as she went to the archway. She paused there and looked back at him. For all his fierceness and hardness of heart, she knew now she was looking upon a man in terrible pain. Praying for his release from the torment she saw in his face, she offered him what she could.
“I give you a solemn vow, Atretes: I never lie.”
“Never?” he said mockingly.
She looked straight into his beautiful, empty blue eyes. “Even if it costs my life,” she said softly, then left him alone.
GLOSSARY OF TERMS
abaton: a sacred dormitory adjacent to the Asklepion; people who were seeking a healing were “incubated” there for the night
alimenta: a portion of money set aside to aid the poor
Aphrodite: Greek goddess of love and
beauty. Identified with the Roman goddess Venus.
Apollo: Greek and Roman god of sunlight, prophecy, music, and poetry. The most handsome of the gods.
Artemis: Greek moon goddess. Her main temple was in Ephesus, where a meteor fell (the meteor was then kept in the temple), supposedly designating Ephesus as the goddess’ dwelling place. Although Romans equated Artemis with Diana, Ephesians believed she was the sister of Apollo and daughter of Leto and Zeus, viewing her as a mother-goddess of the earth who blesses man, beast, and the land with fertility. Unlike Diana, who was the goddess of the forest and of childbirth, Artemis was sensuous and orgiastic.
Asklepios, Asclepius: Greco-Roman god of healing. In mythology, Asklepios was the son of Apollo and a nymph (Coronis) and was taught healing by a centaur (Chiron).
Asklepion: the temple of Asklepios
atrium: the central courtyard of a Roman dwelling. Most Roman houses consisted of a series of rooms surrounding an inner courtyard.
aureus (pl. aurei): a Roman gold coin equivalent to twenty-five denarii and weighing between five and eleven grams
bibliotheca: library room of a Roman dwelling
calidarium: the room in the baths that was nearest to the boilers and thus was the hottest. Probably similar to a Jacuzzi or steam room of today.
catamite: a boy used by a man for homosexual purposes
Charon: in the Roman arena, Charon was one of the libitinarii (“guides of the dead”) and was portrayed by a person wearing a beaked mask and wielding a mallet. This portrayal was a combination of Greek and Etruscan beliefs. To the Greeks, Charon was a figure of death and the boatman who ferried the dead across the Rivers Styx and Acheron in Hades (but only for a fee and if they had had a proper burial). To the Etruscans, Charun (Charon) was a figure who struck the deathblow.
civitas (pl. civitates): a small city or village
corbita: a slow-sailing merchant vessel
Cybele: Phrygian goddess of nature worshiped in Rome. In mythology, Cybele was the consort of Attis (the god of fertility), and she represented universal motherhood. Part of her following involved a strong hope for an afterlife.