“Amen.”
“Remember, beloved, that God demonstrates his own love toward us in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.”
Not for me, he didn’t.
“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten son, that whoever believes in him should not perish, but have eternal life. For God did not send the Son into the world to judge the world, but that the world should be saved through him.”
“Amen,” the voices rang out joyously.
“Therefore, beloved, love one another.”
“Amen.”
“Love one another.”
“Amen!”
“Love one another as Christ loved you.”
“Amen!”
“Hear, O children of God. And know.”
“The Lord is our God, the Lord is one,” they said together. “And I shall love the Lord my God with all my heart and with all my soul and with all my might.”
“Praise be to God!”
“Glory to God in the highest!”
“Who reigns now and forevermore!”
They began to sing, their voices blending beautifully:
“He who was revealed in the flesh, was vindicated in the Spirit, beheld by angels, proclaimed among the nations, believed on in the world, taken up in glory, destined to return, to him be the glory now and forever more. Amen. Amen.”
A hush fell over the lower deck as the gathering of Christians knelt in a circle and began to pass around the bread and wine. Atretes had observed the ritual once and asked Rizpah about it. She had told him they were eating the flesh and drinking the blood of their Christ.
“And you call me the barbarian?” he had said in disgust.
“You don’t understand.”
“Nor do I want to.”
“If only . . . ,” she started to say and then fell silent. He had wondered at the look of infinite sorrow in her eyes before she turned away and rejoined the others.
As she was with the others now, joining them in their gruesome rite.
Had she left Caleb in the small bed she had made for him? Had she set her duties to his son aside, forsaking him for this god of hers? He threw off the blanket and rose. If she had, he’d drag her away from that gathering of flesh eaters and give her something to pray about.
Stepping around several barrels, he saw those gathered on their knees. His son was nestled in Rizpah’s arms. Beside her, a head taller, was Theophilus. Black hatred filled Atretes as he watched the Roman tear off a piece of bread and feed it to her. He followed that act by holding the cup of Christ’s blood to her lips so she could drink. Then he drank himself and passed the cup to Parmenas.
Anyone watching would think Rizpah and the baby belonged to the Roman!
Atretes’ heart pounded hard, hot blood surging through his veins. He clenched his teeth. Theophilus raised his head slightly and looked across the deck at him. Atretes glared at him. I’ll drink blood, and it will be yours, he vowed.
The offensive meal completed, they began their time of prayer. They spoke softly, bringing up needs and mentioning names. They prayed for John. They prayed for Cleopas. Black Hades! They were praying for him. Making a fist, Atretes sent up his own prayer to Tiwaz, the sky god of Germania. Give me the life of Theophilus! Put it in my hands that I might crush it and send him to oblivion!
The heat rose so hot in him, he knew if he didn’t move to the other end of the deck where the Illyrians and Macedonians were still sleeping, he was going to kill Theophilus without thought of the consequences.
Rizpah glanced up at him as he passed them, her expression troubled.
He stood on the windward side of the ship, the cold breeze whipping his hair and numbing his face. The ship dipped with the rolling seas and a frothy wave burst high over the prow. The sun was coming up.
The ship’s captain shouted an order and sailors scrambled over the deck, readjusting ropes and securing two cargo crates that had inexplicably come loose. Another salty wave shot over the prow and Atretes spread his feet, bracing himself. Better the roar of the sea and stinging cold than the quiet voices and communal warmth of a group of religious fanatics.
Gripping the side of the ship, Atretes saw land in the distance. “What is it?” he shouted above the storm to a sailor nearby.
“Delos!”
The clouds opened and rain pounded the deck and him. Cold and soaking wet, Atretes remained where he was, stubborn, cursing life itself.
Rizpah appeared. Caleb wasn’t with her. He turned to her, angry. “Where’s my son?”
“In the shelter where it’s warmer.”
“Alone?”
“No.”
His blood went hot. “Who’s with him? The centurion?”
She blinked, surprised. “Camella is watching him.”
“Camella. The mother who never had a husband.”
She turned away. Atretes caught her arm. He felt her stiffen at his touch. “Stop avoiding me.”
“It’s not my intention to avoid you, Atretes.”
“I can feel your resistance.”
She forced herself to relax. “Why did you leave your shelter?”
“You think I should stay and listen? You think I should get on my knees with the rest of you? You think I’ll follow that bloody Roman of yours!”
Her dark eyes flashed up at him. “He’s not my Roman, Atretes, and it’s the Lord we follow, not Theophilus.”
“He feeds you like a pet.”
“My hands and arms were full with your son. Had you been beside me, I would have taken the bread from your hand!”
His heart beat fast. He looked into her dark brown eyes and saw something that warmed his insides. When his gaze dropped to her mouth, she lowered her head. His temper rose again. “Why do you always avoid me?” he said roughly.
“I don’t.”
“You do. You’ve cut me off from my own son.”
She looked up at him again, her cheeks pale from the cold. “It’s you who avoid us.”
“I care nothing about them,” he said, jerking his chin in a sharp dismissal of the rest.
“Nor about me,” she said. “I even wonder sometimes how deeply you care for your own son. Do you love him? Or is it simply a matter of having what you think belongs to you?”
“You both belong to me.”
“Careful where you tread, my lord. You’re paying me a denarius a day. Remember?”
He was pleased to have made her angry and grinned down at her to show her so. “You look more yourself this morning. On fire.” She turned from him, and he yanked her back. Catching hold of both her shoulders, he lowered his head close to hers. “Take up your sword, Rizpah. Cross it with mine and see what it gets you. Do it. I’m sorely in need of a fight.”
She said nothing, but he saw it was a struggle. Clearly, it wasn’t fear that kept her silent, for he saw no evidence of it in her steady gaze. He loosened his hands, wondering if he had hurt her. It hadn’t been his intent.
“I wish you would join us and hear the good news,” she said with exasperating calm.
He cupped the back of her head and pulled her close, his lips against her ear. “I’ll embrace you, my beauty, but I’ll never embrace your god or your religion.” Breathing in her scent, he let her go, satisfied to see he had rattled her.
Rizpah retreated to the tent she shared with Camella and Lysia.
From where he stood with the others, Theophilus glanced at her as she ducked inside the tent and then looked at Atretes thoughtfully.
Safely inside the shelter, Rizpah picked up Caleb. He was in a mood to play, and she needed distraction from the feelings Atretes roused in her. Her heart was still racing.
“Are you all right?” Camella said, looking at her curiously.
“Of course. Why do you ask?”
“You’re shaking.”
“It’s cold this morning.”
“You don’t look cold. You look . . . alive.”
Rizpah could feel the heat filling
her cheeks and hoped dim light from the sunrise would conceal her embarrassment. She felt alive. She was trembling, her heart still pounding from the encounter with Atretes.
O God, I don’t want to feel this way again, not about him!
“Lysia, why don’t you go and see if Rhoda needs any help this morning?” Camella said.
“Yes, Mother.”
Glancing at Rizpah, Camella picked up her blanket. “Did you speak with Atretes?” she said as she folded it.
“Is it that obvious?”
Camella set the blanket down and sat on it. “Not so the others would notice. Unless they were watching.”
“Are they?”
Camella grimaced. “Rhoda is. So is Theophilus, though for different reasons. Besides,” she said with faint amusement, “wherever Atretes is, everyone knows he’s there.”
“Who could ignore him when he’s in a temper and marching past us?”
“I wasn’t speaking of moments like that.”
“His beauty, you mean.”
“I’ve never seen a more handsome man, but even his beauty would pale if he didn’t possess some undefinable quality as well.” She took her shawl and drew it around her shoulders. “Had Theophilus not come aboard, Atretes might easily have become our leader.”
“God forbid.”
“Apparently, he did,” Camella said with a smile and then explained. “A man like Atretes will never walk unnoticed. He’ll either lead men to God or he’ll lead them away.”
Rizpah turned Caleb onto his stomach and watched him try to crawl. “Atretes rejects Christ.”
“For now.”
Rizpah looked at her. “If you can lead him to Christ, please do so. With my blessing.”
Camella’s smile disappeared. “I don’t think so. I wouldn’t dare get so close.” She gave Rizpah a self-deprecating smile. “I know myself. I succumb too easily to fleshly passions. Lysia is evidence of that, though I’d rather give up my life than not have had her. And most of the others have their own struggles, too. I know you’ve noticed the way Eunice looks at Mnason, how she always seems to end up near him, oblivious to how it looks to anyone. Even Parmenas.” She shook her head sadly. “No, we have too much already to face. I think Atretes is going to be up to you.”
Peter and Barnabas ran in front of their shelter, playing a lively game of some sort, as they usually did each day. “Can’t catch me! Can’t catch me!” Peter shouted. Barnabas, following, caught his foot in the rope that held their shelter secure and almost brought it down.
“Boys!” Camella said in irritation.
Sometimes their youthful zest was extremely annoying, as it was now, when their ruckus frightened Caleb and started him crying again. Rizpah picked him up and comforted him. Something fell over not far away, and she wondered what destruction the boys had caused this time. Yesterday, when the weather was clear, they had annoyed the sailors with their racing back and forth and getting in the way. When Timon had finally interceded and told them to play something else, Peter had worked at the knots holding several crates.
“Atretes reminds me in some ways of Lysia’s father,” Camella said when the boys had run back toward the others. “Handsome, commanding, virile. Am I embarrassing you? I won’t speak of him, if you’d rather I didn’t.”
Rizpah wasn’t sure if she meant Lysia’s father or Atretes. “Somewhat,” she admitted ruefully. “Though not for the reasons you might think. I’m no stronger than you, Camella.”
Camella recognized the acceptance offered, as well as the confession. “Good.” She put her hand over Rizpah’s. “We’ll keep one another accountable and ward off temptation when it comes.”
Rizpah laughed. Caleb had scooted as far as he could go. She picked him up and set him back down near her, so he could try again.
“He’ll be crawling before you reach Rome,” Camella said, watching him.
“And walking by the time we reach Germania.”
“You’re not eager to be going, are you?”
“Would you be?”
“Very. More than anything else, I long for a new beginning.”
“You can begin anew wherever you are, Camella.”
“Not when you have someone reminding you of your past every step of the way or expecting you to fall prey to the same failings.”
Something struck their tent, startling them both. A ball of material rolled in front of Caleb. “Those boys, again,” Camella said, picking it up as Peter appeared around the corner.
“That’s our ball,” he said, out of breath.
“Yes, we know. Please play elsewhere,” she said tossing it to him.
He darted away, out of sight but not out of hearing.
* * *
The weather changed for the better. Peter and Barnabas were running along the deck, weaving around people and sometimes bumping into them in their exuberance. Capeo and Philomen joined them for one round on the deck before their father, Parmenas, stopped their wild play and settled them at more peaceful games. For a little while, the children settled down, and then Peter and Barnabas began to shout and laugh and race about again, annoying every member of the crew as well as passengers too polite to do anything. Timon and Porcia made no effort to curb their offspring’s activity, even when Peter knocked Antonia down.
“For heaven’s sake, Porcia!” Eunice said, obviously frustrated at having the conversation she’d been having with Mnason interrupted. She bent to pick up her daughter.
“He didn’t mean to do it,” Porcia said in quick defense, sending Peter off again while Eunice wiped her young daughter’s tears away. “Besides, you have little room to judge! Your attention has hardly been focused on your family!”
A dull red filled Eunice’s face and she glanced uncomfortably toward Mnason, then fell silent.
Atretes came to stand beside Rizpah. Camella looked up at him and then glanced at her. “I think Lysia and I will take a walk around the deck,” she said, taking her daughter’s hand.
“You needn’t leave.”
“Yes, leave,” Atretes said coldly.
Sorry she had said anything, Rizpah turned to look out at the sea, mortified by his rudeness. She could feel Atretes watching her and wondered what he was thinking. “Did you want to talk to me about something?” she said when the silence began to wear on her nerves. He didn’t answer. “Would you like to hold Caleb?”
“Are you so desperate to distract me?”
“Yes!”
Grinning, Atretes took him. “In all things honest, aren’t you?”
“I said I would be.”
His mouth flattened into a hard line. “Even with yourself?” She refused to rise to his baiting. She watched her son, troubled that she had handed him over to a man who could take men’s lives without the least remorse. Sometimes she struggled with it, wanting to withhold Caleb from his father. This was the first time since the dreadful night they had left the villa that Atretes had held him, other than when he had carried Caleb onboard the ship. Why had she handed him over so eagerly? Just to distract Atretes’ interest in her? She half expected, half hoped, Caleb would put up a fuss. He didn’t. Instead, he grabbed the ivory chip around his father’s neck and chewed on it. He looked at the interesting object and then pounded it on his father’s chest. “Da . . . da . . . da . . .”
Atretes’ expression changed markedly. Forgetting her, he began to talk to his son. All the world-worn hardness left his face, and Rizpah glimpsed the man he might have been had circumstances been far different. He spoke softly, German words she couldn’t understand. But the tone was easily understood.
Atretes lifted Caleb above his head and jiggled him, drawing a delighted sound from the little boy. Rizpah stood by, watching, pierced.
Someone ran into her from behind, and she uttered a sharp gasp of pain and fell forward against Atretes. Atretes lowered Caleb quickly, holding him secure in one arm as he steadied her with the other. Barnabas tried to dart around the side of her, but Peter was too fast.
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“Caught you!” Peter shouted triumphantly, giving his younger brother a hard shove.
“Not fair! Not fair!” Barnabas complained and the two boys began arguing loudly.
Atretes thrust Caleb into Rizpah’s arms. Making a sweep of his foot, he sent both boys crashing to the deck. “Ouch!” Barnabas cried out. Bending down, Atretes caught each one by an ankle and lifted them high and right over the side of the ship.
“No!” Rizpah cried out in fright, sure he meant to drop them.
Barnabas screamed in terror, arms swinging wildly for some hold and finding none.
“It’s time you two learned a lesson!” Atretes said and shook them hard enough to make their teeth rattle. When he stopped, Barnabas screamed louder, but Peter dangled, shocked into uncharacteristic silence, eyes huge.
Hearing the commotion, everyone turned, Porcia and Timon last of all. When Porcia saw Atretes holding her sons by the ankles and dangling them overboard, she screamed and ran toward them, frantic to reach them before they met a watery death. “Someone stop him!”
“Atretes, please don’t,” Rizpah said, hardly able to breathe.
“No one would miss two worthless, yapping little curs!”
Barnabas went on screaming while Peter hung upside down, limp and, for all appearances, determined to die with more dignity than his younger brother.
“Timon!” Porcia wept. “Do something!” She looked around wildly for her husband, who was hurrying after her, his face ashen.
Atretes gave Barnabas a hard shake again. “Be silent!” Barnabas stopped screaming as though someone had grabbed him by the throat and squeezed off his air.
Everyone stared. No one dared move, not even Porcia who had reached the side of the ship where Atretes held the boys and stood weeping and wringing her hands. “Don’t drop them,” she wept. “Please don’t drop them. They’re only babies. Whatever they did, they didn’t mean to do.”
“Shut up, woman. You are a fool.”
He lowered the boys as though ready to drop them and everyone caught their breath. “You’re going to listen, aren’t you?”
“Yes!”
“You will not run or shout or fight anywhere on this ship. If you do, I’ll feed you to the fish. Do you hear me?”
Hair hanging, eyes huge, they nodded quickly.
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