“Repeat what I just told you.”
They did.
“I want your word on it.”
Barnabas jabbered it out, while Peter answered solemnly.
Atretes let them dangle a moment longer, and then swung them high and dumped them on the deck at their mother’s feet. Porcia gathered her sons quickly to her.
Two of the soldiers laughed and several members of the ship’s crew cheered. One passenger called out that Atretes should’ve dropped them while he had the chance.
“As for you two,” Atretes said to Porcia and Timon, “tend your children, or the next time I will heave them overboard, and you right after them!”
Porcia drew them up quickly and away from Atretes. “Don’t go near that man again. Stay as far away from him as you can. He’s a barbarian and he’ll kill you.” Her words were loud and clear enough for many to hear.
A muscle jerked in Atretes cheek. He looked around in cold challenge at those staring at him.
Barnabas cried and clung to his mother’s skirts, but Rizpah noticed Peter hung back, gazing up at Atretes with rapt adulation. She glanced up at Atretes and saw he noticed the boy as well. He smiled faintly and jerked his chin for the boy to go.
Timon cupped the nape of his son’s neck and shoved him along the deck behind his mother and brother. “Listen to your mother.”
Turning away from those still looking at him, Atretes put his hands on the ship’s rail. She had never seen him look more grim. She moved to stand close beside him and he looked down at her in surprise. His expression darkened. “What’re you smiling about?”
“You,” she said, the floodgates of her heart opening.
His eyes narrowed, distrustful of the warm glow in her brown eyes, even more wary of the hunger he felt for her acceptance. “They deserved it.”
“You wouldn’t have dropped them.”
“No?” He almost reminded her that only a few nights before he had killed two men in cold blood.
“No.”
“So you think you understand me?”
“No. I don’t understand you at all,” she said frankly. “But I know enough about you to make a new beginning.”
She put Caleb back in his arms.
13
The ship reached Corinth without incident. Theophilus and the soldiers removed the trunk being sent to the emperor while the slaves, who had manned the oars from Ephesus to Corinth, unloaded rugs, aromatic spices, and amphorae of wine, and loaded them into wagons for the journey over the isthmus. Sburarii unloaded the sand ballast for the Corinth arena. It would be replaced on the other side of the hill with grain destined for Rome.
Once stripped, the ship would be dragged from the water. It would take days to haul the corbita the few miles to the Savonic Gulf where it would be launched in order to continue the voyage to Italy. Nero had begun work on a canal through the faulted limestone of the isthmus, but the work had stopped upon his death, making the arduous overland trek still necessary.
The slaves strained at the ropes of a ship nearby. Sweat glistened on their brown bodies as they labored to pull the ship up a amp. Weeks of travel south and west into the Mediterranean would be saved by taking the ship overland. September had come and gone and the sea was notoriously dangerous by November. Crossing the windswept plateau might be bothersome and difficult, but it was safer than challenging the elements.
Atretes was little interested in the details of unloading and moving ships. He had been restless, confined on board one. Now he was tense from the level of activity on the docks and nearby city streets. Corinth was too much like Ephesus. Marbled temples rose grandly, piercingly white in the sunlight. Wandering auctioneers and town criers advertised goods and rewards for lost slaves. Wholesalers jammed the ports, and ships captains traded spices for honey, drugs, and perfumes to take to Rome.
While everyone gathered their belongings, Bartimaeus, Niger, Tibullus, and Agabus told the others they had letters from John to deliver to members of the Corinthian church. Mnason left in their company.
“Atretes is waiting for you,” Camella said as they walked together.
Rizpah raised her head and saw him far ahead. His manner toward her had changed subtly, giving her cause for caution. She knew she would be faced with her own temptations. Would she be wise in her choices, heeding the quiet voice of God? Or would she be like Eunice, hankering after sin?
The wind rippled Atretes’ clothing and tossed his blonde hair. He stood for a long moment, looking at her. Turning away, he went on. Even at this distance, she could sense his annoyance. Did he expect her to run and catch up to him? She was saddened that he was so determined to remain aloof from the others, yet thankful as well. She did not think he had overheard the grim news about the church in Corinth, or witnessed Eunice’s struggles. She hoped not, anyway. He would judge the Christian woman faithless. Eunice was a weak and foolish woman who toyed with sin without even realizing it.
Atretes paused again.
“I think you’d better go,” Camella said.
“I can’t keep his pace.”
Camella gave her a droll smile. “You’d better reach an understanding now, before you’re on your way to Germania.”
Rizpah shifted Caleb in her arms. “I can’t allow myself to worry about tomorrow, Camella. Today’s trouble is more than enough.”
Camella laughed. “Well, it appears there are some who crave his company,” she said as they both watched Peter run up the hill.
The boy captured Atretes’ grim attention. He was talking rapidly. Atretes listened briefly and then turned and started walking again, ignoring him.
Porcia looked frantic. “Peter! Stay away from him.” Her son gave her a quick wave of acknowledgment and ran to catch up with Atretes again. “Do something, Timon!”
“I’ll get him,” Barnabas said and raced up the hill after his older brother. When he caught up, he fell into step with Peter, dogging Atretes’ footsteps.
“I think they’ll be all right,” Timon said and returned to his conversation with Prochorus. Porcia caught Benjamin’s hand in a firm clasp when he started after Peter and Barnabas. “Lysia, would you please carry Mary for me?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Lysia said, eager to please.
Camella chuckled. “Well, at least the children aren’t afraid of him.”
Rizpah watched the two boys trotting alongside Atretes. They behaved like excited puppies. He didn’t slow down to accommodate them, but kept on, shoulders set, head high. After a while, the boys slowed, unable to keep up. Barnabas came back to Porcia and Timon, but Peter continued on, following Atretes. Shoulders set. Head high.
“Peter!” Timon called finally and signaled for him to come back. The boy’s countenance fell, but he obeyed. Soon Atretes was out of sight.
Theophilus returned from the garrison where he and the other soldiers were staying for the night. He had made lodging arrangements for the others and showed them the way to an inn overlooking the port and gulf. The establishment catered to travelers waiting for ships to be pulled over the isthmus.
“Rest here,” Theophilus told them. “The food is plentiful and good. The proprietor’s name is Arrius. He’s not a believer, but he’s sympathetic. I’ll send word when the ship is launched and the captain’s ready to board passengers.”
As the others entered the gate, Rizpah remained behind.
“Atretes is down at the port,” Theophilus said.
“You spoke with him?” she said hopefully.
“No. Had we been somewhere away from others, I would’ve tried, but he’s itching for a fight. It wouldn’t be to his best interests to allow it to happen within sight of a garrison. He’d find himself back in a ludus. Or worse, he’d be crucified.”
She was disturbed by his words. “You wouldn’t fight him, would you, Theophilus?”
“It may come to that.”
“But he’d kill you.”
“If God allows.”
“He’s been trained to fight
.”
His mouth turned up ruefully. “So have I.” He started to walk away and then turned back. “Right now, you have more influence over Atretes than anyone. Use it.”
Influence? She wanted to laugh at the implausible idea that she could change Atretes’ thinking. She entered the inn. She nursed Caleb, changed his soiled wraps and let him play on a blanket while she washed his swaddling clothes and hung them to dry in the small partitioned area allotted to her, Camella, and Lysia.
Lysia sat down on the blanket and played with Caleb. Smiling, Camella watched her daughter.
The young men returned from their errand late in the afternoon. Agabus reported Mnason’s chance encounter with an old friend whereby he had decided to remain in Corinth.
“He has a troupe of players, and one of the leading hypocrites died of a stomach ailment a few days ago. He worked with Mnason in Antioch and was very pleased to find him in Corinth,” Tibullus said.
“Mnason played the same part in Ephesus not more than a month ago and still remembers the lines,” Niger said.
“Which he began to recite right there before the baths.” Tibullus grinned. “Everyone who heard him was impressed.”
“He’s decided to stay here rather than go on to Rome,” Agabus added, “and asked us to extend his love to all of you. He’ll pray for us.”
“Perhaps we should think about staying in Corinth,” Eunice said.
Her remark drew a sharp glance from her husband, Parmenas. “We’re going on to Rome.”
“But we might encounter worse persecution there than we did in Ephesus. The church meets openly here.”
“Because they’ve watered down the gospel to make it palatable for the populace,” Niger said grimly. “We attended a service yesterday and were appalled at what they’re preaching.”
“Two Nicolaitans were professing their philosophies,” Agabus said.
“With the approval of the elders,” Tibullus added.
“There were notices posted of classes offered,” Niger went on. “One is being taught by a self-proclaimed prophetess who’s teaching the freedom of Christ means we can enjoy pleasures of any choosing.”
“Did you correct them?” Timon said.
Tibullus gave a bleak laugh. “We spoke with several deacons. Two agreed with us, but half a dozen others were openly hostile. They said we were meddling.”
“One said I have a very narrow, plebeian view of Christ’s love,” Niger said. “He said Christ told us to be at peace with all men, and therefore that means we can’t condemn anyone’s practices. Some of these Christians have turned the freedom of Christ into license to do all manner of evil.”
“Those who have ears will hear what the Spirit says,” Timon said.
“Those I met were deaf,” Niger said.
“You only met with them for a day. You shouldn’t judge,” Eunice said in quick defense.
“I never meant to imply we were,” he said, dismayed.
Tibullus looked grim. “Sometimes one day is enough to discern truth from lie, Eunice. The Holy Spirit tells us. The gospel being preached in that church doesn’t resemble the gospel according to Jesus Christ. And I’ll tell you, one day in that church was enough to understand why they’re meeting openly without persecution: There’s no difference between them and the world.”
“We’ve had our difficulties in Ephesus,” Prochorus said.
“True, but we had John to hold up the standard of Christ and correct us.”
“Don’t the Corinthians read the letters Paul sent them?” Prochorus said.
“Not anymore,” Tibullus said.
“One of the two elders we spoke with who agreed with us said that the last time they read one of Paul’s letter to the congregation, there was a general feeling of discomfort.”
“They recognized their own sin and didn’t like being reminded,” Niger said. “Many of them protested.”
“Better the discomfort that leads to repentance and restoration than temporal comfort and eternal damnation,” Timon said.
“Unfortunately, they appear to have chosen the latter.”
“What if the church in Rome is the same as the one here?” Porcia said, distressed.
Timon put his arm around her. “We’ll know when we get there.”
“And if it is?”
“We hold to the truth of the gospel. We have copies of Paul’s letter to Ephesus and John’s letters.”
“The church in Corinth isn’t dead yet,” Tibullus said. “There are still two elders who are retaining the pure gospel. I think John was writing to them about false teachers.”
“What can so few do when struggling against so many?”
“Don’t forget who is on their side,” Tibullus said, grinning at her. “Christ has overcome the world. The world will never overcome him.”
“But what about Mnason?” Eunice said. “We should warn him and encourage him to accompany us.”
Parmenas’ face darkened. “You think too much about Mnason.”
“He’s our brother.”
“And our brother has decided to stay in Corinth. We’re going to let him.”
A taut silence fell over the group, and then they discussed other things. Eunice stood tight-lipped. Capeo, Philomen, and Antonia gathered close around her. She glanced back toward the gate once. As she did so, Parmenas called his children to him. They obeyed quickly, leaving their mother standing alone, outside the group. She hugged her arms around herself, looking bereft and confused.
“I think she’s about to meet her judgment,” Camella said with dismay.
“I pray not,” Rizpah said. She had seen Eunice’s infatuation for Mnason grow. Mnason had noticed as well. It was to his credit that he had removed himself from the path of temptation. But would Eunice choose to leave well enough alone? And would her husband forgive her in either case?
Rizpah prayed silently for them.
Lysia giggled as Caleb sneezed. Rizpah smiled, fond of the young girl. “Would you watch Caleb for me for a while?”
“Oh, can I?” Lysia said, delighted. Camella nodded, reassuring Rizpah that she would be near.
As she crossed the courtyard to the main gate, Peter ran to catch up with her. “Are you going to talk to Atretes?”
“I’m going to try.”
“Can I go with you?”
“I’m not sure your mother would agree, Peter.”
“Mama!” he shouted across the courtyard of the inn. “Can I go with Rizpah?” Busy tending Benjamin and little Mary, Porcia was too distracted to be bothered and waved approval. “See?” Peter beamed up at her.
“I’m not even sure where Atretes is, Peter. I have to look for him at the port.”
“I’ll help you find him.” He started out the gate ahead of her. Resigned, Rizpah put her shawl over her hair and followed. The street was crowded with people traveling to and from the port. Goods were being carted both ways.
“There he is!” Peter said and darted off.
Rizpah saw Atretes sitting in a fanum, staring straight at her, his face as cold as the marble that surrounded him.
Atretes curbed his annoyance as he saw Peter running to him. He wasn’t in the mood for his chatter. “We were looking for you, Atretes,” the boy said, entering the fanum.
“Were you?” He gave the boy a cursory glance and fixed his attention on Rizpah again as she walked toward him. She was perfectly formed, slender, yet fulsome. Her black hair was modestly covered, but wayward strands escaped to frame her lovely face. Men noticed her, though she appeared oblivious to their admiring glances.
She stopped just outside the fanum, her dark, luminous eyes meeting his. “There’s a place for you at the inn,” she said.
He allowed his gaze to drift. “Is there?” He wondered if she was aware of the effect she had on him.
When she didn’t answer, Peter looked up at her. “Why’s your face all red?”
Atretes laughed and ruffled his hair. “Go back to your mother and father, boy.”
“But . . .”
“Go.” It was a command this time.
“I’ll get lost,” Peter said, still resisting.
“Follow the road back up the hill. Unless you’re a baby who needs a woman to hold your hand.”
Peter obeyed. “There’s a booth near ours,” he said, walking backward. “You can sleep there.”
“Was that necessary?” Rizpah said when the boy was out of hearing.
“You’d rather I didn’t send him away?” he said, pretending to be obtuse. His eyes gleamed. “I’ll call him back if you feel safer with him around.”
“You deliberately embarrassed me,” she said, curbing her annoyance with him.
His smile turned sardonic. “Is it what I said or what’s in your own mind that embarrassed you?” A faint frown flickered across her face, and he tilted his head slightly, his smile challenging. He half expected her to go back to the inn and the safety of her friends. Instead, she stayed, though clearly nervous about doing so. Something was on her mind.
“We need to talk.”
“If you want to talk, come inside and sit.” He noted she entered the fanum as though entering a lion’s cage. She sat down on the marble bench opposite him and folded her hands primly in her lap.
“We need to reach some kind of understanding before we go any further.”
Atretes’ mouth curved slowly. “We haven’t gone anywhere yet.”
“Please consider my words seriously, Atretes.”
“Oh, I am serious, deadly serious,” he said coolly, unwilling to question why his emotions were roiling. He knew the kind of understanding he wanted, but doubted she would be agreeable. The truth have it, he would be disappointed in her if she was.
“What will be our relationship when we reach Germania?”
“What will it be?” He lifted a brow.
She clasped her hands more tensely. If only his face were not so shuttered and his tone so mocking. “I’m not exactly a servant, but I’m not . . .” She grimaced, searching for words.
“A wife, either,” he said for her. She was beautifully formed, more beautiful, he imagined, than Julia had been.
Her color heightened. Even Shimei had never looked at her with such raw hunger. Her body responded to what she saw in Atretes’ eyes, and heat spread. With it came realization. “I’ve given you the wrong impression,” she said and rose.