As Sure as the Dawn

  “Gaius!” he called, and the man turned sharply. When he saw Atretes, he froze one split second before he started to run. His hesitation proved fatal, for the framea hit him in midstep and sent him crashing forward into the dust.

  Grabbing the dead man by the arm, Atretes dragged him off the road and left his body behind some brush.

  Retrieving the framea from the body, Atretes looked up at the sun and judged the time left before sunset. Another two hours. Now that Gallus’ message to Sertes had been circumvented, they could wait for dusk.

  * * *

  When he opened the door and entered his bedchamber again, Atretes saw Rizpah standing in the shadows near the balcony, looking out. She turned sharply, her face ashen and blotched from weeping.

  “Oh, thank God,” Rizpah said, relief washing over her at the sight of him. Gallus was still standing at the gate. “I was so afraid you were going to kill him. I prayed you wouldn’t bring sin upon yourself because of my . . .” Atretes just stood there, staring at her, his face without emotion, his eyes lifeless. Her relief evaporated. “Where did you go?” she said tremulously. “What’s happened?”

  He turned from her. “We’ll leave when the sun goes down.” He took the sheathed dagger from the bed and shoved it into his belt. He turned to her again, his eyes like blue glass, cold and lifeless. “Don’t try to warn Gallus. Remember that Caleb’s life is in the balance.”

  Filled with tension, Rizpah fed Caleb, washed him and rewrapped him for the journey into the city. Atretes said nothing over the next two hours. She had never known a man to be so silent and still. What was he thinking?

  “Stay here,” he commanded and went out into the corridor, shutting the door behind him. She heard him shout for Lagos, and then a moment later, he issued a series of impatient commands. He wanted a sumptuous meal prepared immediately. He wanted Pilia bathed and perfumed. “Tell her she’s to dance for me.”

  Rizpah thought he had gone mad.

  “How much gold coin is in the villa?”

  Lagos told him.

  “Bring it to me. I want to count it for myself.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Lagos said, accustomed to Atretes strange, dark moods. He departed and returned within a few minutes.

  “The back gate was left open this morning,” Rizpah heard Atretes say. “Tell Silus to stand guard there until I tell him otherwise.” Every servant in the household was given something to do. “The gold first. Go!” Atretes said, and Rizpah could hear Lagos’ sandals slapping hastily along the marble-tiled hallway.

  Atretes opened the door and strode across the room to take up a plain cloak. Donning it, he then tied the pouch of gold coins inside the heavy leather and brass-studded belt. She realized then what he had done. He had sent the servants on errands that would keep them away from the upper corridor and the atrium. Shaking, Rizpah scooped up Caleb and tied him carefully into her shawl.

  “Come,” he said and she followed.

  Atretes preceded her watchfully down the steps. No one noticed their departure until they left the house and crossed the barren courtyard.

  Gallus came out of the shadows and stood waiting for them.

  Her heart pounded heavily as she looked up at Atretes’ cold face. “Atretes—”

  “Shut up,” he snapped in a ruthless whisper. “One word out of you and by all the gods, I’ll . . .” He left the threat hanging unfinished in the darkening air.

  Gallus moved from his post by the front gate. “Shall I summon Silus and the others, my lord?”

  “No. You’ll do.” Atretes stepped past him and pushed the gate open himself. He jerked his head for Gallus to go ahead. Rizpah glanced up, and he caught hold of her arm, squeezing painfully. “When I order you on ahead, you go.”

  “Atretes, for the love of God . . .”

  He gave her a hard shove out the gate.

  They walked down the road past the terebinth tree. No one was there. They continued on, rounding the bend in the road out of sight of the villa. “Stop here,” Atretes commanded Gallus. “Go on ahead, Rizpah.”

  “Atretes.”

  “Go!”

  Gallus looked uneasy. “Shall I accompany her, my lord?”

  “No.” Atretes grabbed her arm, yanked her around to face the road, and shoved her hard. Atretes watched her walk away. She paused once and glanced back. She knew what he was going to do. Better that she didn’t see the deed done. He swore at her. “Do as I commanded you!” Bowing her head, she clutched Caleb to her bosom and hurried her steps.

  “I thought you were going with her, my lord.”

  Atretes waited until she rounded the curve before turning to answer. “Is that what you told Gaius?”

  Gallus’ eyes changed. “My lord, I swear I—”

  Atretes hit him in the throat, crushing his windpipe. “Gaius is dead.” Gallus sank to his knees, choking and gasping. Atretes yanked the guard’s helmet off and gripped his hair. Drawing Gallus’ head back, he glared into the man’s terrified eyes. “Join your friend in Hades.” He drove the heel of his hand into Gallus’ nose, snapping the cartilage and sending it like a spear into his brain. Gallus fell back, convulsed once in the throes of death, then went limp.

  Atretes glanced up and saw Rizpah standing frozen in the curve of the road. As he stepped over Gallus’ body, she turned from him and ran.

  11

  Atretes caught up with Rizpah easily. When he took hold of her arm, she cried out and tried to escape him. “O God!” she cried out. “God! God!”

  He jerked her around and caught hold of her flaying hands. “I told you to go on ahead.”

  “You murdered him. You—”

  Atretes clamped his hand over her mouth. She struggled wildly, waking Caleb in his securely knotted pouch against her breasts. Horses were coming, and Atretes had no time for gentleness. He hit her. As she sagged, he caught her up in his arms and strode quickly into the shadows well off the road. She was stunned only briefly and within moments began struggling again. “Shut up unless you want to get us all killed,” he hissed in her ear. She made no sound after that and Caleb quieted with her—but Atretes could feel her trembling.

  A company of Roman soldiers rode by. Atretes swore under his breath as he watched. He had forgotten Romans patrolled the road. They would come upon Gallus’ body within minutes.

  “We must go now,” he said, pulling Rizpah up. She was shaking violently, but didn’t resist him. He kept hold of her arm, half supporting, half shackling her to his side as he strode along the road. He wanted to put as much distance between himself and the soldiers as possible.

  Rizpah stumbled, and he realized the pace he set was too difficult for her. Two of her steps barely matched one of his.

  Gritting his teeth, he slowed enough to let her catch her breath.

  “They’re coming back,” she gasped, the sound of horses coming from behind them.

  “If they stop, say nothing. I’ll do the talking.”

  “Please. Don’t kill any . . .”

  His fingers dug into her arm. “What would you have had me do? Let him warn Sertes of my leaving Ephesus? What do you think would’ve happened then? I killed two men tonight. How many more do you think I’d have to kill to be free again?” She lifted her head and he saw the bright sheen of tears. “Keep your head down so they don’t see your face.”

  He started walking again, forcing himself to a more leisurely pace this time. His heart beat harder and faster as he heard horses coming up behind him. He touched the hilt of his dagger and was satisfied it was handy, then turned slightly, showing the proper amount of respect and curiosity.

  When they came closer, Atretes moved to the side of the road and waited. Only two. The others were nowhere in sight.

  “Atretes, please don’t. . . .” He looked at her, and her mouth went dry.

  “It’s late to be on the road,”one of the soldiers said as he came toward them.

  Atretes looked up at him. “We’ve been walking since morning. We h
oped to make it before dark, but . . .”

  Caleb began to cry softly.

  The soldier’s horse sidestepped and pranced nervously. “Traveling with a baby tends to slow one down,” the soldier said. “Any trouble along your way?”

  “We’ve not been troubled, but there was a man lying dead in the road about a mile back.”

  “Yes, we know.”

  “The sight upset my wife.”

  “Did you see anyone suspicious?” the soldier said, coming closer, studying him.

  “I didn’t linger long enough to look around. My apologies, but my one thought is to get my wife and son to safety.”

  “We’ll see you to the city gates.”

  Atretes hesitated only for an instant. “I’m sure my wife will appreciate the reinforcement,” he said in a tone that gave nothing of his feelings away. He looked at her and the cold humor in his expression shocked her.

  The two soldiers rode on either side of them. Rizpah wondered if the one riding closest to her could see how she was shaking. Atretes slid his hand down and took hers. The strength of his grasp was clear warning to keep silent. The soldier beside Atretes asked where they had come from, and Atretes named a village some distance from Ephesus. “We’ve come to pay homage to the goddess, Artemis.”

  The city gates loomed ahead. “You’ll be safe enough from here,” the soldier said.

  “Our thanks to you,” Atretes said with a deep bow, the mockery lost upon the guards. The soldiers swung their horses around and started east again. “Roman scum,” Atretes said and spit on the ground.

  Swinging around, he led Rizpah through the darkened alleyways of the city. She didn’t question him, too burdened with her own tormented thoughts. There was a quicker way to the harbor, but she wasn’t in a hurry to board a ship with Atretes. Was it really God’s will that she be with this man?

  When they finally reached the docks, she was physically exhausted. “Which ship?” Atretes said, speaking the first words that had been uttered between them in hours.

  “One with Poseidon on the prow.”

  They walked along the docks looking for it amidst the confusion of men loading and unloading ships.

  “There,” Atretes said, pointing it out to her. It was much like the vessel that had brought him to Ephesus.

  “There’s John,” Rizpah said, feeling relief so acute she wanted to run to the apostle. Atretes caught hold of her arm and stopped her from doing so.

  “Say nothing of what happened. Put it from your mind.”

  “Put it from my mind? How?”

  “I told you to go on. Do you remember? I didn’t mean for you to watch.”

  “Not seeing would have made it all right?” She tried to escape his grasp, but his fingers tightened. “Let go of me.”

  “Not until you swear to me.”

  “I swear no oath to anyone.” She turned her face away, the image of Gallus lying in the road permanently etched in her mind. “I wish I hadn’t looked back.” She looked up at him again, angry and grieving. “I wish I hadn’t seen what you’re capable of doing to another human being.”

  “You’ve only seen part of it,” he said through his teeth.

  She felt cold. One minute, Gallus had been standing alive in the road. The next, he was lying dead in the dust. There had been no great struggle. No shouting. No cursing. No accusations or defenses. “I’ve never witnessed anything so blood-chilling in my life, even when I was living in the streets. You haven’t an ounce of mercy in you!”

  “No mercy?” Something flickered in his eyes and then they went dead again. “I could’ve broken every bone in his body and then dispatched him to Hades where he belongs. As it was, I killed him in the quickest way I knew how.” Two short, swift punches. “He hardly felt anything.”

  “And now he’s lost.”

  “Lost? He was found out. Woman, he deserved to die.”

  “Lost for all eternity.”

  “Like a thousand others. Like you and Caleb and me if he’d lived.”

  “Not like him,” she said. “You don’t even know what I’m talking about. You don’t even know what you’ve done!”

  His face was cold with disgust. “You cry for him?”

  “He was unsaved and now he’s dead. Yes, I cry for him. You murdered him without offering him the least chance.”

  “Chance to do what? Betray me again? I didn’t murder him. I executed him. Had I let him live, I’d have forfeited my freedom and life as well as that of my own son. Should I have let him live? May his bones rot!”

  “We could’ve left without him knowing.”

  “He’d already passed information to Gaius. How far do you think we’d have gotten if Sertes had gotten that information? Where do you think Caleb would be right now?”

  The blood drained from her face as she realized where he had gone early in the evening and what he had done. Not one but two men were dead because she had spoken. “God, forgive me,” she said, covering her face. “O God, forgive me. I should’ve told you nothing.”

  Angry, Atretes caught her wrists and pulled her hands down. “Forgive you for what? For protecting my son from captivity? For protecting me?”

  “For giving you an excuse to kill again!”

  “Lower your voice,” he said in a harsh whisper, glaring at a man who glanced at them. Atretes drew her behind some crates. “You warned me of something I was too stupid to see for myself. You kept all of us out of the arena.”

  “And that makes everything all right?” she said in a voice choked with tears. “Two men are dead because of me. Better that I had kept my suspicions to myself.”

  “Where do you suppose the boy would be right now if you’d kept silent?”

  “Where he is now, without blood on his father’s hands!”

  Atretes swore in frustration. “Woman, you’re a fool. You know nothing about anything. All three of us would be in the ludus.”

  “We’re both free. . . .”

  “Do you think Sertes cares about your rights or mine? He has friends in high position, friends with more political power than your apostle and all his followers put together. One word in the right ear, and your freedom would end like that,” he said and snapped his fingers in her face. “You know what happens to the women working in the ludus? They’re passed around to whatever gladiator deserved a reward. Maybe I would’ve gotten my turn with you, too. Eventually.”

  She tried to pull free.

  “That shocks you, doesn’t it?” Atretes said, jerking her back again. “Didn’t you know that’s what a gladiator gets when he’s performed for his master?” His mouth twisted into a sardonic smile. “A woman to couple with while the guards watch through the bars. Not a very pleasant prospect for a woman of your sensibilities, is it? But then, don’t think for a minute Sertes would care.”

  She wanted desperately to block out his words and the frightening possibilities they created in her mind. “Even if all you say is true, it doesn’t make what you did right.”

  His face paled in anger. “I killed two men tonight. For good cause and without regret. How many more would I have had to kill to get my son back if I’d gone to the arena? And if I was killed, what use might Sertes find for a child then? Caleb could have ended up in one of those booths under the arena stands, or do I have to explain them to you as well?”

  “No,” she said faintly, unable to bear hearing more.

  “Then save your pity for those who deserve it.” He let go of her in contempt.

  “God would have shown us a way, Atretes. I know he would have.”

  “Why would your god show me anything?”

  “Because he loves you, just as he loved Gallus and the other you killed tonight.”

  He grasped her chin. “Tell me, woman. Does your heart bleed as much when you think of the man who betrayed your Christ?”

  His words cut her, spreading an infection of doubt. “I share the blame for what you did.”

  He let go of her abruptly. “Then be ab
solved,” he said sardonically. “Gaius’ and Gallus’ blood is on my head, not yours. As is the blood of better men I killed before them.” He turned her toward the quay again.

  As they wove their way along the quay amid the activity of men loading and unloading ships, Rizpah sensed Atretes wanted to hold back rather than hurry. She glanced at him and saw his gaze fixed upon the apostle.

  My God, she prayed in distress, what do I say to this man to make him understand? Father, bring him up out of the pit or I know he’ll pull me down into it with him.

  “Say nothing,” Atretes said heavily.

  “Nothing is done in secret.”

  “As you wish,” he said bitterly. “Tell him and see if it matters.”

  Rizpah glanced up at him and thought he looked oddly vulnerable. “I was speaking of the Lord, Atretes, not John.”

  John came to meet them. He took her hands and kissed her cheek. “The others have boarded ahead of you. They have bedding for you as well as supplies for the journey. Did you encounter trouble?”

  “No,” Atretes lied.

  John gave them each passage papers.

  Rizpah clutched the document that proclaimed passage had been purchased and struggled against tears. She had never been away from Ephesus and now she was journeying to Rome and then on to Germania. With a murderer.

  John touched her cheek. She closed her eyes, pressing her own hand over his. She wouldn’t see him again, and the prospects of the future looked dark and fearsome right now.

  “The Lord will be with you wherever you go, beloved,” John said gently.

  “Give me the boy,” Atretes said, holding out his hands.

  Rizpah wanted to hold Caleb closer, but relinquished the sleeping baby to set Atretes’ mind at rest.

  Babe in arms, Atretes looked at the apostle. “My thanks,” he said gruffly. “I never expected to receive help from you.”

  John smiled. “The Lord uses unexpected ways and means to rescue his people.”

  “But then I’m not one of his people, am I?” His gaze flickered to Rizpah, then he stepped onto the gangplank and left them standing on the dock.

  “I think he’s hoping I’ll stay here,” Rizpah said. “Perhaps I should.”