Camella sat for a long moment, saying nothing. “I forgive you,” she said bleakly. She got up quickly and left the shelter.
Rizpah left Caleb with Rhoda and went out to her friend. Camella sat alone near the prow, weeping. Rizpah sat down with her. “What is it?” she said softly.
“I’ve always wanted her to beg for my forgiveness. I’ve prayed for this moment, just so she’d know what I’ve felt. And now I feel so ashamed.”
Camella wiped the tears from her cheeks and stared up at the sail. “Rhoda and I are a lot alike. She wanted a child. I wanted a husband who would love me the way my brother loved her.”
“And now you have one another.”
“Maybe. If we can learn to bear one another’s burdens instead of adding to them.”
“Now is a good time to start,” Rizpah said softly. Camella studied her friend’s face for a moment, then nodded. They returned to the shelter. Lysia took Caleb and played with him as her mother sat down nearby Rhoda.
“Rhoda,” she said softly, hesitant. “I want to speak with you about the past.”
“You don’t have to tell me anything.”
“Please, Rhoda. Just this once, let me talk about it, and then I’ll never mention it again.” She waited until Rhoda nodded before going on. “When Callistus left me, I was so hurt. You can’t imagine how much I loved him and how foolish I was over him. I knew when I left my family and went to him that what I was doing was wrong, but I didn’t care. All I could think about was being with him. And then he turned out to be everything my family and friends told me he was. I had nowhere to go, no one to take care of me. I even thought about drowning Lysia and committing suicide.”
Rhoda closed her eyes, shaking softly with silent weeping.
Camella lowered her head. “You didn’t know how bad it was, Rhoda. Prochorus knew, but he didn’t offer any help. I finally swallowed my pride and asked him for it, and he said he’d speak to you first before he decided.” She didn’t say anything for a moment. She looked away, tears running down her cheeks, swallowing convulsively.
“I knew I’d created my own problems, but all I could think about was my own brother cared more for your feelings than he did for my life.” She let out her breath shakily. “I was jealous of you. I came into your home full of hurt feelings and resentment. I took offense at everything you said and I did everything I could to come between you and my brother. I’ve made everyone miserable for the past several years, and now you ask for my forgiveness when it’s your forgiveness I need.”
Rhoda leaned forward, stretching out her hands. Camella grasped them. Pride cast aside, she cried openly. “He loved you. You know he did. And he adored Lysia as much as I do. You say you’ll never have a child, Rhoda, but Lysia is your daughter as much as mine. She loves you. I love you, too.”
They talked far into the night, about Prochorus, about their concerns of what they would do when they reached Rome. Rizpah lay down with Caleb to her breast and listened. As joy over the reconciliation swept over her, she looked out through the tent opening and saw Atretes.
He was standing at the railing, his blonde hair whipped about his face by the wind. He looked so grim, so unrelenting. What would her future and Caleb’s be when they reached the dark forests of Germania?
17
The Alexandrian freighter entered the imperial harbor of Ostia on the Ides of March. The port at the mouth of the Tiber built by Ancus Marcius seven hundred years before had grown into a commercial and storage center for Rome’s grain supplies as well as a port of refitting and repair for vessels going to Portus. Galleys from the Roman fleet were in noticeable numbers alongside a royal barge decorated for an elaborate celebration.
Theophilus called the Christians together as the ship was being towed into the harbor.
“I won’t be able to meet with you again until I deliver the gifts to the emperor and am dismissed of my duties. When you disembark, follow the main road out of Ostia. It will take you to the gates of Rome. Look for the Temple of Mars. Nearby is a marketplace. When you find the vendors of fruits and vegetables, ask for a man named Tropas. He has a booth among them. He’s one of us and can be trusted. He’ll direct you to safe housing.”
Rizpah went to Atretes to relay Theophilus’ instructions, but he dismissed them. “We go on our own,” he said, picking up the blanket rolls and last of the food supplies.
“Is that wise?” Rizpah said, afraid to leave the others. She saw the warning glint of anger in his blue eyes. Packs already tied to his back, Atretes took Caleb from her and headed for the line of passengers disembarking.
Struggling with misgivings, she hurried after him. “Let me hold him, Atretes.”
“I’ll give him back to you when we’re off this ship.”
Helpless to stop him, she looked back at the others. All were occupied with gathering their belongings, and he wouldn’t listen to them anyway. Peter ran to Atretes before he could disembark.
“Where are you going? Aren’t you going to stay with us?”
“No,” Atretes said, casting the boy an impatient look.
“Theophilus told us where to go.”
“Go back to your mother.”
“But—”
“Go!”
Blinking back tears, Peter backed away.
Rizpah watched the boy and turned to Atretes. “Why were you so cruel to him? He loves you.”
“Be silent!” He stepped onto the plank walkway and started down. She had no choice but to follow. When they reached the dock, she had to walk quickly to keep up with him. He was in a hurry to be away. His demeanor was such that people moved out of his way as he strode down the quay toward some large warehouses. Several soldiers who stood by a man with a manifest noticed him. One in particular stared long and hard and then said something to one of the others.
“You there!” one of them called out, and Rizpah’s heart jumped and began pounding heavily.
Atretes swore under his breath and tilted his head in arrogant question as two soldiers approached him while others along the way stopped to stare in curiosity.
“What’s your name?” one soldier demanded, while the other said, “Atretes! I tell you, Ancus. I swear it’s him.” He stared at Atretes almost in awe. “I saw you fight Celerus. I’ll never forget it. It was the most magnificent fight I’ve ever witnessed.”
“Glad you enjoyed it,” Atretes said without inflection.
“Then you are Atretes,” Ancus said with a snort of disbelief, looking over his common garb and the turban he had wound on his head to cover his blond hair.
“Yes,” Atretes said, and Rizpah glanced up, surprised he revealed his identity. She could see a pulse throbbing in his neck. Cold alarm spread through her.
“Your son?” Ancus said and reached out to brush Caleb’s cheek. Atretes shifted his body. He moved only a fraction of an inch, but as the babe was taken out of the soldier’s reach, the message was as loud as a trumpet calling forth a battle. Ancus’ eyes narrowed. A cold silence fell. Rizpah could hear her own heartbeat in her ears. She prayed frantically, beseeching God for help.
“Ulpius, since you’re the expert on gladiators, you can tell me. Wasn’t Atretes sold and sent to Ephesus?”
“Three years ago,” Ulpius said. “Not that the mob has forgotten him. They were so much in love with him, vendors still sell statues outside the—”
“Then he’s still a slave,” Ancus interrupted smugly.
“I earned my freedom,” Atretes said and drew the gold chain and ivory pendant from beneath his tunic and cloak. He held it out, his expression dark and mocking.
“A pity,” Ancus said, “but then, things can change, given the right circumstances.”
Atretes handed Caleb to Rizpah without looking at her.
Ancus put his hand on the hilt of his sword. Ulpius stepped forward, his hand extended between them. “Don’t be a fool.”
“Is there a problem here?” came a hard voice.
Ulpius turned. “
Centurion!” he said, startled and clearly relieved. He hit his breastplate in formal salute. Ancus immediately saluted as well.
“I asked you a question, soldier,” Theophilus said to Ancus, the full dignity and authority of his rank evident in his command.
Ancus’ face reddened. “This man is a slave of the imperial ludus.”
“He is a slave no longer, soldier, or didn’t you notice the pendant he wears?” Theophilus looked at Atretes and inclined his head respectfully. “I didn’t have the opportunity to bid you farewell and offer my thanks for your assistance aboard the ship. I do so now. The emperor will be pleased to hear of your part in thwarting the Illyrian pirates.”
A muscle jerked in Atretes’ jaw and his lips whitened.
Theophilus looked at Ancus. “We were attacked and outnumbered. Without this man’s assistance, the Illyrians would’ve taken the ship and the gifts I bring Titus.”
“Centurion, this man is Atretes.”
Theophilus’ expression darkened. “Is that why you detain him? To fawn over him like a couple of amoratae? Go back to your duties. Now!” As soon as they were out of hearing, he looked at Atretes. “It’s unfortunate you’re so readily recognizable.”
“I don’t intend to be in Rome any longer than necessary.”
“It’d be safer if you stayed out of the city entirely. I’ll make arrangements for you to stay on the outskirts of Ostia and meet you when I’ve completed my commission to the emperor.”
“I make my own arrangements.”
“Stop being a stiff-necked fool and use some common sense!”
“Have I your permission to depart, my lord? Or do you intend to detain me as well?”
Theophilus’ eyes ignited. “You’re free to go where you wish, all the way to Hades if it pleases you.” He stepped back and inclined his head. “But take care lest you drag your son and Rizpah down with you.”
Atretes’ body was rigid, hot blood flooding his veins. He stood his ground, gritting his teeth. “I know someone in Rome who will help us.”
“An ex-gladiator?” Theophilus said, struggling against his own temper and impatience with this stubborn, thick-skulled German.
“Gladiators are more to be trusted than Romans.”
“As Gallus was trustworthy,” Rizpah said and received a black look from him.
“Go and put yourself in the care of your ex-gladiator,” Theophilus said, angry. “Hopefully you won’t find yourself back in the ludus. I warn you now, it won’t be easy for me to get you out of there.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“In the arena, I would agree.”
“Anywhere.”
“He’s only trying to help us,” Rizpah said.
“I don’t need his help, woman, nor have I asked for it.”
“Why won’t you listen to him? He knows Rome. He knows the emperor. He knows—”
Atretes snatched Caleb from her arms and strode off. Frightened and filled with frustration, she stared after him and then turned to beseech Theophilus. “What am I going to do?”
“Go with him. I’ll find you.” He gave a soft laugh without humor. “He’ll make it easy.”
Rizpah caught up with Atretes. Caleb was screaming in his arms. “You’re frightening him.” He thrust the baby into her arms without slowing his pace. She did her best to calm Caleb as she hurried alongside Atretes. It took three of her steps to match one of his strides and she was quickly out of breath.
“I can’t keep up with you!” she gasped, and he slowed his pace slightly, a hand clamped on her arm to keep her with him. “Do you know where you’re going?” she said, feeling less secure as the distance between her and Theophilus widened.
Atretes’ jaw stiffened.
“Theophilus knows his way—”
Atretes stopped and turned on her, his face livid. “Shut up! Do not mention his name to me again! Do you understand? I suffered his presence aboard ship because I had no choice. Now, I do!”
They walked for hours, falling in among the throng of travelers heading for Rome. They kept well to the side and out of the way of the numerous vehicles that sped in both directions. Four-wheeled, four-horsed raeda passed by bearing families. A two-wheeled, two-horsed cisium raced down the road, urged by a wealthy young aristocrat oblivious to the risk of others. There were ox wagons carrying goods, and litters carrying officials, merchants, and wealthy sightseers who were heading for Rome carrying messages, merchandise, or grand hopes of fulfilling their dreams. Hundreds walked; Atretes and Rizpah, Caleb in her arms, were among them.
They paused briefly by one of the milestones that was placed every thousand paces, recording the nearest towns and the name of the emperor during whose reign the roadwork had been completed. Road repairs were also noted on the milestone with each succeeding emperor named during whose reign the work had been done. Atretes could read none of it, and Rizpah only part, having been taught by her husband, Shimei.
Atretes opened the pouch tied to his belt and gave Rizpah a handful of dried grain to eat. He tossed some of the rich mixture into his mouth. Unlooping the wineskin, he dropped it into her lap. “It’s almost empty,” she said, after taking a sparing drink and holding it up to him.
“We’ll get more,” he said, looping it back on his shoulder. “Nurse the child on the way.”
They entered the city as the sun was setting. Outside the gates, merchants grumbled as they were forced to wait until the following morning before entering the city. No wheeled vehicles were allowed into Rome after sunset.
“How far?” Rizpah said, exhausted.
“Far,” Atretes said grimly. He could see the emperor’s palace in the distance and knew they had hours yet to walk before coming to an area of Rome with which he was familiar. Once they found the ludus, he was certain he could find the way to Pugnax’s inn. If not, he would find someone to take a message to Bato, the lanista of the Ludus Magnus. It was too far to go tonight. He could make it, but Rizpah was exhausted.
He saw a park not far ahead. “We’ll sleep there for the night.”
Rizpah noticed a gathering of rough-looking people loitering nearby, but made no protest. If they were attacked, it would be on Atretes’ head.
It was getting cold, and dark clouds gathered overhead. Atretes led Rizpah along a cobbled footpath between a copse of trees. Just on the other side was a vine-tangled fanum. She stopped and stared at it with misgivings.
“Thinking of the last time you and I shared one of these?” Atretes said mockingly.
“I’ll sleep over there,” she said, pointing to row of thick bushes.
“I don’t think so.”
“I don’t care what you think! I’m tired and hungry and I’m not going to argue with you!”
He heard the catch in her voice and knew she was close to tears. “It’s going to be cold, Rizpah.”
“Don’t offer to keep me warm!” Yanking the blanket from the pack on his shoulder, she left him on the path and headed for the shrubs.
Clenching his teeth, he went into the fanum and made a bed for himself. He could hear Caleb crying, the sound pitiful in the growing darkness. The clouds moved across the moon, shrouding the small fanum garden in darkness. His son’s crying frayed his conscience. A rumble of thunder rippled around him and rain poured down, pounding against the marble arch above him.
Atretes arose and went out to find Rizpah; his son’s crying made that easy. Stooping down before a heavy shrub, he looked at her huddled beneath the wet blanket. “Go away,” she said, and he could tell she was crying with the baby.
“Woman, I’m not the only one who’s stiff-necked and stubborn.” The cold rain was pouring down on his head and running down the back of his neck beneath the heavy woolen blanket around him. “Think of the babe.”
Teeth chattering, she rose and followed him back to the fanum. Shaking the moisture off her own woolen blanket, she lay down on the marble tiles. He sat on the bench and said nothing. Her body was shivering. He could hear
her speaking softly to the baby. When Caleb cried harder, she shifted, rearranging her clothing so that she could nurse him.
Leaning back against a marble column, Atretes watched her body slowly relax in exhaustion. When he was sure she was sleeping, he lay down behind her and drew his own blanket over her and the baby. Her body was cold. He tucked her body firmly into the curve of his own so that his warmth could seep into her. She fitted him perfectly. The scent of her flesh aroused him, and he forced his thoughts to other things designed to chill his ardor. Gallus, for one.
Rizpah’s reminder had served its purpose. He had only met Pugnax once, and for business purposes. Bato had accompanied him. If not for the lanista’s presence, Atretes knew he might not have survived that night. The inn had been a mean little place compared to other establishments where he had been taken since then. Pugnax hadn’t much to show for his years in the arena. Atretes’ mouth curved bitterly. How much did he himself have to show for ten years of fighting for his life? Everything he had earned had been spent on that grand villa and its elaborate furnishings back in Ephesus. And for what? Julia. Beautiful, shallow, corrupt Julia.
Rizpah moved closer in her sleep, and Atretes sucked in his breath. Raising his head, he looked over her at his son. Even in her sleep, she snuggled the babe close, protecting and loving him. He brushed the stray tendrils of dark hair from her cheek and found her skin smooth and soft. He laid his head down again and closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep.
When he did, he dreamed he was chained in a small, dark cell without a door or window. There was no iron grate above him through which the guards could spy on him, only walls pressing in on him, the darkness growing. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came. He couldn’t breathe and struggled.
“Atretes,” someone said softly and he felt a gentle hand on his face. “It’s all right. Shhh.”
He drifted again, on calmer seas.
When he awakened, he saw Rizpah asleep beneath the marble bench. Annoyed, he prodded her. “It’s dawn.”