Free As Sure as the Dawn by Francine Rivers Page B

how.”
    He saw no other way to convince the stubborn woman but to tell her the truth. “If Sertes could find a way to force me to fight again, he would do it. He asked who you were. I said you were a servant. He asked about him.” He nodded curtly to his son.
    Her heart began to race as she sensed the danger. “And?”
    “I said the child was yours.”
    She let out her breath, her mouth curving ruefully. “That must have choked you.”
    “You think the situation amusing?” he said through his teeth.
    Rizpah sighed. In another moment, he wouldn’t be able to think clearly through the red haze of his rising temper. “No,” she said calmly. “I don’t think it’s amusing. I think it’s very serious and I’ll do as you say.”
    Her capitulation took him off guard. Speechless with frustration, Atretes watched her walk away. She went around the side of the villa. Still hungry for a good fight, he went after her. She was entering the back door of the villa when he caught up with her. Hearing him, she glanced back. “Would you like to play with your son for a while?”
    He stopped just inside the doorway. “Play?” he said, taken aback.
    “Yes, play.”
    “I haven’t time.”
    “All you have is time,” she said and entered the bath chamber.
    “What did you say to me?”
    She turned to face him. “I said, all you have is time. You’d enjoy playing with Caleb more than running around in the hills, jumping over rocks, or spending hours in your gymnasium lifting weights and terrorizing your guards.”
    A hot flush came over his face.
    “Here,” she said. Before he could think of a retort burning enough, she handed him the baby.
    His rage evaporated in a wave of alarm. “Where are you going?”
    “I need to find some clean linen. Caleb’s soaking through those wraps.” Hiding her amused smile, she walked away.
    Atretes grimaced. He could feel the dampness seeping through his fresh tunic. When his son began nuzzling his chest, Atretes held him away. “He’s hungry!” he shouted after her.
    Rizpah stopped beneath the archway. “Be at ease, Atretes. He’s not that hungry.” She laughed, and the musical sound floated around him in the marble-tiled chamber. “Besides, I doubt he’ll draw much blood. Not until he has teeth.”
    Alone with his son, Atretes paced nervously. Caleb squirmed and looked ready to cry, so Atretes held him close again, cold sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. He found it ironic that he had faced death hundreds of times and never been reduced to the sweating fear he felt now holding a baby— his baby.
    Caleb’s tiny pudgy fingers grasped the ivory chip hanging from a gold chain around Atretes’ neck and stuffed a corner of it into his mouth.
    Scowling, Atretes tugged the gold chain and ivory chip, which declared his freedom, from his son’s mouth. He tucked it quickly out of reach inside his tunic, muttering under his breath about women who deserted their babies. His son’s lip quivered.
    “Don’t start crying,” he said gruffly.
    Caleb’s mouth opened wide.
    “By the gods, not again,” Atretes groaned. He winced at the howling wail that came forth. How was it possible for such a small child to make so much noise? “Very well. Eat it!” he said, pulling the chain out from beneath his tunic again and dangling it temptingly before his son. Still whimpering, Caleb grasped the chip and gummed it.
    Atretes carried his son over to a massage table and placed him on it.
    “Rizpah!”
    Her name echoed off the marble, muraled walls around him. Startled, Caleb lost hold of the chip again and screamed. Gritting his teeth and holding his breath, Atretes unwound the soiled wraps and tossed them in a heap near the wall. “You need a bath, boy. You stink.” He picked him up and carried him into the pool. Caleb stopped screaming as he felt the warm water of the tepidarium swirl up around him. Gurgling happily, he grabbed the chip again and pounded it against his father’s