As Sure as the Dawn

by Francine Rivers

  He saw his cloak hanging near the brazier. He had dumped it on the floor upon their arrival at the inn and forgotten it when he left. He had been too intent on getting out of the room and having time to think about what she had told him. The heavy garment had been soaked anyway and would have been of little use to him. He took it up now and found it dry and warm.

  He covered her with it. Brushing his knuckles lightly against her cheek, he stood amazed that her skin could be so soft.

  When Rizpah awakened late in the afternoon, Atretes was gone.

  Caleb was nowhere to be found.

  26

  “I’ll borrow a horse from the fort and follow the road north,” Theophilus said. “Atretes knows enough to go that way. You stay here and wait in case he changes his mind and comes back.”

  “And if he does return?”

  “Start out. Camp near a milestone. I’ll find you.” He left enough money for her to pay for two days’ lodging.

  Rizpah paced, praying fervently that Atretes would come back, sure he wouldn’t. Lord, you are my rock and my shield, my everpresent help in time of trouble. O God. Caleb. Caleb!

  Her breasts filled with milk until she hurt with heaviness. With the physical pain came doubt, gripping her heart with taloned fingers.

  “Wean him. Starting now.”

  O God.

  “I forgive nothing!”

  Lord, please.

  She sat weeping in the growing darkness, arms crossed over her breasts, pressing against the pain.

  Your will, Lord. Give me the heart to accept your will.

  She lit the lamp. Pacing again, she murmured words Shimei had taught her, clinging to them with determination while fighting against the doubts assailing her. “You have plans for me, plans for my welfare and not for calamity to give me a future and a hope. Lord, you found me and restored me. You gathered me to your bosom. You brought me out of the pit.” Tears coursed down her cheeks. “Lord, your will . . . your will . . . Lord . . .”

  The door opened.

  She swung around as Atretes strode in, Caleb in his arms.

  “You’re awake,” Atretes said with a smile, shrugging off a heavy bundle and dumping it on the floor.

  Rizpah stared at him.

  Atretes looked back at her, his smile turning down in a perplexed frown. “What’s wrong?”

  “Wrong?” she said faintly.

  “You look . . .” He shrugged for want of a word. “Upset.”

  “What’s wrong?!” Her blood went hot. “You take Caleb and leave without a word, and you ask me what’s wrong?”

  “You were asleep, and someone had to watch him,” he said with appalling logic. “Here.” He dumped the child into her arms. “He’s hungry.” He headed across the room for the table. “And so am I.”

  She stood, mouth agape.

  “There’s nothing here,” he said, seeing a piece of stale bread. He glanced back at her.

  “Theophilus took the bread that was left.”

  “And there’s nothing else?”

  “I had no appetite,” she said through clenched teeth, certain she had the strength to kill him with her own bare hands. Shaking with anger, she presented her back to him, sat on the couch, and opened her clothing so that she could nurse Caleb.

  “Are you sick?” Atretes said.

  “No.”

  Atretes frowned. She wasn’t acting like herself and it made him nervous. “I’ll get us something to eat,” he said and went out.

  Rizpah didn’t care if he ever came back, and then was afraid he wouldn’t. When he finally did, he brought bread, grapes, two roasted chickens, and two skins of wine and roused her deeper ire with his jovial mood.

  “Where’s Theophilus?” Atretes said. “At the baths or the fort with his bloody comrades?”

  “Neither. He went looking for you. Again.”

  “Where does he think I went?”

  “North.”

  Atretes stared at her. “North?” He laughed. He laughed harder as he thought about the Roman trying to catch up with him. “North,” he said and broke a chicken in half. How long would it take the Roman to figure out he hadn’t even left Grosseto? Grinning, he ripped off a hunk of meat with his teeth.

  Caleb was replete and asleep in Rizpah’s arms. She put him on her couch and covered him with Atretes’ cloak. Straightening, she glared at Atretes, incensed by his mirth. “How can you laugh about it?”

  “He’ll have to walk a long time to find me.”

  “He was going to get a horse.”

  “Riding then. Ha! Even better. I like having plenty of distance between us.” He laughed again and tore off another hunk of meat with his teeth. He waved the carcass, indicating she join him.

  She crossed the room, sat down opposite him, picked up the other half of roasted chicken, and debated hitting him across the side of the head with it. “You could have told us,” she said, pulling the leg off instead.

  “I said you were sleeping.”

  “You shouldn’t have left.”

  Atretes’ eyes narrowed. “I don’t answer to you, woman. And I sure in Hades will never answer to him.”

  “He’s showing you the way home.”

  “Someone else could tell me the way,” Atretes said with a shrug.

  “If your insufferable pride would let you ask.”

  He froze for an instant and then tossed the chicken onto the platter, good humor gone. “My pride?”

  “What was I supposed to think?” she said, anger dissolving into exasperation. “‘Wean him,’ you said. ‘I forgive nothing,’ you said.” She threw the chicken leg at his head. His reflexes were as good as ever, and she missed. She had never seen him look surprised—until now.

  “I thought you left and took Caleb with you!” She dissolved into tears. Humiliated by her lack of restraint, she stood up quickly and left the table.

  There was a long silence behind her.

  “I covered you with my cloak,” Atretes said quietly as though that explained everything.

  She turned and looked at him, uncomprehending. Atretes looked back at her as though she had sprouted horns. Perhaps she had.

  He felt uncomfortable. Why was she staring at him like that? Mouth flattening, he picked up his chicken again. “Sit down and eat, woman. Maybe you’ll think better with some food in your stomach.”

  Rizpah came back and sat down. “I covered you with my cloak.” She waited for him to look at her again, but he seemed intent on eating his dinner and pretending she wasn’t even in the room. “I thought you forgot your cloak again,” she said quietly.

  “I didn’t forget it.” He tossed the bones onto the platter instead of the floor. His manners were improving.

  “I’m sorry I threw the chicken leg at you.”

  How could a woman be on fire with anger one second and serenely calm the next? “Be glad you didn’t hit me.” He reached for a bunch of grapes.

  “I shouldn’t have assumed—”

  “Eat!”

  Smiling, she picked up the chicken and broke off a wing. They ate in silence, his tense, hers tranquil. Atretes finished first and wiped his hands on a blanket. He seemed to want to get away from the table and her as quickly as he could.

  “What instructions did Theophilus give you?”

  “To head north and camp near a milestone. He said he’d find us.”

  Atretes went over to the pack he had dumped on the floor. He untied the ropes and opened the blanket. He tossed a heavy ball of cloth to her. As it fell loose in her hands, she realized it was a thick woolen tunic. “You can wear the one you have under it.” He tossed her a wool-lined boot similar to those soldiers wore in cold weather. As soon as she caught it, he tossed her the second. The soles of both were made of thick leather and studded with hobnails.

  “Your feet will stay dry and warm in those. I had them rubbed with beeswax.” He pulled out a heavy woolen cloak and stood. “This’ll keep you from freezing in the snow, and there’ll be plenty where
we’re going.”

  Dropping the boots, she pressed her face into the woolen tunic and cried.

  Atretes stood silent, embarrassed. He listened grimly to her sobs and wanted to comfort her. He knew he couldn’t. The baby was asleep, Theophilus miles away, and they were alone in this bedchamber. What he felt was too strong. And he knew she felt it, too. If he touched her, he might not listen to any protest she might utter. He didn’t trust himself where she was concerned. His baser instincts had been honed to reign too long. He didn’t want any more regrets. He lived with enough already.

  “If you put those things on now, Rizpah, we might make a couple of miles before it gets dark.”

  Sniffling, Rizpah stood and loosened her sash. She pulled the heavy woolen tunic over her head. It dropped in loose comfortable folds down to her ankles. She tied her sash and sat down again, pulling on the boots. She looped the leather laces and pulled them snug before tying them and folding down the tops so they fit midcalf. She stood and thanked God she wouldn’t have to walk another mile in her worn sandals.

  “Thank you,” she said simply, trying not to cry again. “They’re a perfect fit. How did you know?”

  He came and put the cloak around her. “I took one of your sandals with me.” He held onto the edges of the garment, staring into her eyes, his pulse pounding. A fierce tenderness filled him, and a desire to protect her. He didn’t like what she made him feel and let go of her.

  “When we get to Germania, you will tell no one what you told me,” he said, rearranging his gear for easier carry. When she said nothing, he picked the pack up and turned to look at her. “Give me your word.”

  “I can’t. You know I can’t.”

  He couldn’t believe she refused. “I told you what they’d do to you. My people don’t give second chances.” There was a time when he wouldn’t have either. She was making him weak.

  “I won’t lie.”

  He stared at her. “They’ll kill you if they find out.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  No matter the cost, she had said before and she was holding to it. She wouldn’t compromise. A part of him was glad. A part of him felt safe in her answer because he knew he could trust her. But another part knew fear. She mattered to him already far more than he cared to admit, and the Chatti showed no mercy.

  “All right. Let it be as you say. Don’t lie. Just don’t say anything.” He slung the pack onto his back.

  “The way I said nothing to you. I should’ve told you all about myself when you first began asking questions instead of giving you information piecemeal.”

  He crossed the room and leaned down to speak straight into her face. “If you’d told me everything the day you arrived, you wouldn’t be alive right now! I would’ve killed you without blinking an eye and been glad of it.” She stood uncowed, not even flinching. He straightened. “I wouldn’t have had the months of living with you to learn what sort of woman you are now.”

  “So I’m good now, Atretes? I just threw a chicken leg at your head.”

  He grinned. “And missed.”

  “I still struggle against the flesh. Every day, sometimes every hour.”

  “And you think I don’t?” he said, his gaze moving down over her.

  She blushed, feeling hot all over. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Get the boy and let’s go.” He had to get out of this room, now.

  She did as he said. They went down the portico and out through the main courtyard to the antechamber. Soldiers were everywhere, a good many of them noticing Rizpah. Ignoring them, Atretes clamped his hand on her arm and headed straight for the wide doorway into the street, eager to be out in the open.

  “You’re hurting me,” Rizpah said and let out her breath when he let go of her. He was walking fast, too fast. She had to make two steps to his one and was quickly out of breath. “I can’t keep your pace, Atretes,” she said, hating to complain.

  He slowed. “This way,” he said and started down a main thoroughfare that headed north. They passed through the gates, crossed a bridge, and headed up the road into the growing darkness. They passed one milestone, then another. Stars were beginning to appear. They passed another milestone. Arms aching, Rizpah shifted Caleb.

  When they came upon the fourth milestone, she stopped. “It’s almost dark.”

  “We can make another mile.”

  “I thought you wanted distance between you and Theophilus,” she said and walked off the road. She sat down wearily against a tree trunk. Caleb was still sleeping. His day with Atretes must have worn him out. She placed him on the grass and then lay down beside him, curling around him to keep him warm.

  Atretes dumped his packs, clearly annoyed to be stopping.

  “I’ll try to do better tomorrow, Atretes,” she said.

  He moved about restlessly and then sat a few feet away, knees drawn up, forearms resting on them. He looked at the sky. “We could’ve made another mile.”

  * * *

  They left as the sun was coming up, and Rizpah had nursed Caleb. Atretes bought bread and apples as they passed through a village. Rizpah fed Caleb bits of both as he rode contentedly on her hip. She helped him drink from a skin holding watered wine.

  Near noon, a company of soldiers rode toward them. Rizpah saw Theophilus among them and called out to him. They paused as the Roman dismounted and untied his pack from the horse. Slinging it over his shoulder, he spoke cheerfully to the others before heading toward them. One of the soldiers grasped the reins of Theophilus’ mount and they continued on down the road.

  Theophilus looked Rizpah over, noting the new cloak, tunic, and boots. “So that’s where you went,” he said to Atretes.

  Glowering at him, Atretes started off again.

  Theophilus fell into step beside Rizpah. “Have you two been getting along well without me?” he said, his mouth tipping up.

  “Well enough,” Atretes answered for her and kept walking.

  Theophilus grinned at Rizpah. “At least you’re glad to see me.”

  They made good distance over the next days, passing through Campiglia Maritima, Cecina, Livorno, Pisa, and Viareggio. They camped each night near the road. Theophilus purchased more supplies in La Spezia. Atretes insisted on taking the shorter route along the mountainous coastal road rather than the one that went inland.

  When they reached Genova, Theophilus arranged lodgings again, this time at an inn not frequented by soldiers and farther from the public baths. Atretes entered the baths this time without comment. When Rizpah asked permission to leave his side, he gave it without hesitation. She took Caleb into a bath chamber with other young mothers while he followed Theophilus into the main chambers.

  Fewer people bathed naked in this place. Atretes decided the further one got from Rome, the more provincial the morals. He found himself relaxing in the environment and even enjoying it. He took his time while Theophilus waited, bearing the money pouches and talking with some men who appeared, by their bearing and build, to be soldiers.

  “The roads are safe through the mountain pass,” Theophilus told him when he returned for his clothing.

  “Good. We will make better time.” He donned his tunic and belt and took the pouches.

  Theophilus wondered if Atretes realized his German accent got thicker the further north they went. “We’re not going to be able to keep the same pace,” he said, stripping off his tunic. “It’s a hard climb to Novi. Then we can pick up the pace again through Alessandria and Vercelli. We’ll be following the Dora Baltea from there to Aosta, and that’s a harder climb. Crossing the mountains to Novi is going to be difficult on Rizpah, but nothing compared to what’s ahead. We’ve got the Graian and Pennine Alps to go over.”

  “We could buy a couple of donkeys. One can carry the gear and the other, Rizpah and Caleb.”

  “I can get us a good price at the fort.”

  Atretes’ expression darkened. “It’s bad enough suffering your company without doing commerce with Roman s
oldiers as well!”

  Theophilus refused to take offense. “An army donkey is as good as a civilian donkey. And cheaper.” He tossed his tunic on the stone bench and dove into the pool. When he came up, Atretes was gone. Shaking his head, Theophilus gave the barbarian up to God. Nothing he could say or do was going to change Atretes’ opinion of anything. All the German could see was his enemy, Rome, standing in front of him. He was blind and deaf to all else.

  Lord, if I can’t reach Atretes with your gospel now, how am I ever going to reach the Chatti? he wondered sadly.

  Of one thing Theophilus was certain. Atretes’ Germanic practicality would win over his insufferable pride. Their money wasn’t inexhaustible, and they still had a long, long way to go. Army donkeys would have to do.

  27

  The two donkeys Theophilus purchased from the army made mountain traveling much easier. One carried the gear that had burdened the Roman and Atretes; on the other, Rizpah fashioned a seat for Caleb with packs, blankets, and leather straps. She walked alongside, holding a lead rope and carrying a stick. Caleb was delighted with the bouncing gait of the small beast, and with such a light load, the animal needed little prodding.

  Winter was over and spring was coming on, swelling the rivers with melted snow. The steep roads were grueling and the air grew progressively cooler. Beech and birch gave way to spruce, pine, and fir as they followed the Roman road upward.

  Rizpah filled her lungs with the wonderful scent, giving thanks to God. She loved the majesty of the mountains around her, though there were places of fearsome heights and sharp drops. The way was treacherous, for the rule of Roman road building was to connect cities and territories by the shortest route, and that was not necessarily the easiest. By noon each day, her legs ached, and by the time they made camp, her muscles trembled with exhaustion.

  They found a sizable contingent of soldiers in residence at Aosta. Theophilus said the number was evidence of trouble ahead and went to the fort to find out whatever he could about the conditions they would be facing going over the Pennine Alps. Rizpah remained at the camp with Caleb and Atretes.