The mountains around them were sheer and white, the air crisp and chill. “I’ve never imagined a place so beautiful and merciless.” She looked at Atretes sitting across the fire, and she felt, in some small way, she was beginning to understand him.
“We go down from these mountains into the forests of my homeland,” he said without raising his head to look at her. “The air is not so thin, and there are no mountains like these.”
“Do you remember all this from when you were brought to Rome?”
He looked up at the immense mountain to the northeast. Yes, he remembered. “We go down from here to the Rhone River. We follow that to the Rhine. From there, I can find my own way.”
Rizpah felt a chill at the way he said it. “Theophilus is our friend, Atretes.”
“He is Roman.”
She had never seen eyes so cold. “All this time, all this way, and still you can’t trust him?”
“Why should I trust him? What reason does a Roman centurion go to Germania?”
“He wants to give the Good News to your people.”
He gave a sardonic laugh. “A soldier wants to know an enemy’s strength and weakness so he can report back to his commander.”
“He’s no longer part of the Roman army.”
“So he says.” He jerked his chin. “He was with Titus before we left Rome. And he never passes through a city without going to the fort, does he?”
“You’re wrong to suspect him, Atretes. Theophilus goes to the forts to learn what lies ahead, to be prepared for our sake.”
“You’re a woman. What do you know of war?”
“You’re right, Atretes. I know nothing of war. But I do know Theophilus. I trust him with my life. I trust him with Caleb’s.” She heard footsteps and saw him coming toward them.
“Brigands,” Theophilus said grimly, crouching near the fire. “A Roman official was robbed and murdered a few days ago.”
“Should we wait before going on?” Rizpah said, worried for Caleb’s safety.
Atretes threw a stick into the fire and rose. “We go on.” Nothing was going to stop him from getting home, not Romans, not brigands, not even the gods. Only when they were over the mountains and down into the black forests of his homeland would he breathe the air of freedom. And once there, he would decide what to do about Theophilus. He leaned down and took the wineskin and went out into the darkness.
Theophilus saw Rizpah’s distress and offered what reassurance he could. “Extra patrols are traveling the road.”
“It gets harder the further we go. Sometimes I think the closer we get to Germania, the further we go from God.”
“God is with us, Rizpah.”
“It’s so cold.” She drew the cloak Atretes had given her around herself. “He still doesn’t trust you.”
“I know.”
“He knows his way from the Rhine.”
Theophilus nodded. “You and I both know if it’s God’s will we reach Germania together, we will reach Germania together.”
Rizpah prayed fervently that Atretes’ eyes and heart would be opened to the truth.
They left at daybreak.
28
Rizpah’s breath came out in soft cloud puffs as she trudged through the snow on the narrow mountain road. Caleb had finally stopped crying after she bundled him beneath the heavy tunic against the warmth of her body. Every muscle in her body ached. Her lungs burned. Her feet felt numb. They had reached the summit two days before and were winding their way down from the glacial heights, but it was slow going. Each day was more difficult, more physically trying.
The valley lay like heaven below, and she drank in the sight of a crystalline lake surrounded by evergreens and sloping meadows. “Tomorrow’s the Sabbath,” Theophilus had said. A day of rest.
Thank God, she thought. A week wouldn’t be enough, for the long journey was wearing down her strength. She paused to shift Caleb’s weight. He was growing steadily, adding to her burden. Atretes stopped as well, glancing back at her. She smiled and started off again, praying as she did so that she would have the strength to make it down the mountain.
“Is that Germania?”
“Not yet,” Theophilus said, his breath coming out in a puff of white. “A few days more and we’ll reach the Rhine. Two days farther and there’s a fort.”
Atretes glanced at Rizpah again and she felt the force of his look. You see, it said, and I should trust this Roman?
“Do we need to stop there, Theophilus?”
“The foederati may be able to tell us about the Chatti.”
“Foederati!” Atretes sneered, unable to believe there were any Germans who would willingly join the Roman army. “German slaves, more likely.”
“Not all Germans see Rome as the enemy.”
“Ja! Those who are fools and traitors.”
“It’s been eleven years since you were home. Much has changed.”
“Not that much.”
“The rebellion has been subdued.”
“Rome can build a hundred forts, and this land will still not belong to the Empire!”
“I agree,” Theophilus said, unintimidated by Atretes’ wrath.
Atretes glared at him distrustfully. “You agree,” he drawled in disbelief. “You, a Roman centurion, sworn to serve Rome.”
“Gaul was subdued and absorbed, but the Germans are still feri,” he said, using a word that encompassed savagery. “They’ll be quiet for a while, perhaps a long while, but they’re not conquered. It’s my hope to win them to the Lord. If they turn, all the strength of their attributes will be for the Lord.”
Atretes gave a contemptuous laugh. “No Chatti will accept a god who let his own son be crucified. What good is a god who is weak and useless.” He made a sweeping gesture toward the forests beyond. “This land belongs to Tiwaz.”
“But was created by almighty God,” Theophilus said.
“Then let him try to take it back.” Atretes turned his back and headed down the road again.
They camped beside the crystalline lake. Theophilus and Atretes headed for the shore to try to catch fish while Rizpah collected pinecones. She removed the nuts from them while keeping an eye on Caleb as he toddled about the camp. The child was delighted with everything around him, tottering from rock to tree to patch of snow.
When she finished, Rizpah used the dry cones to fuel the small fire Theophilus had built. The centurion returned with three large fish and placed them beside her. Spitting one, she set it over the fire to roast.
The sun went down, and the colors splashed a spectacular reflection across the smooth surface of the waters. She had never seen anything so beautiful.
Atretes appeared, a black shape against the colorful sunset. He walked up the slope empty-handed. Rizpah removed the third fish from the spit as he entered camp, and Theophilus knelt to pray.
“Lord, we give thanks for this food which you have provided for us. May it renew the strength of our bodies and open our hearts to your constant presence and mercy upon us. Bless the hands that have prepared this food for our bodies’ use. We pray in the name of your blessed Son, Jesus. Amen.”
A muscle jerked in Atretes’ jaw as he joined them in the meal. It hurt his pride that Theophilus caught fish without effort while he caught nothing. He ripped the skin from the fish and pulled a hunk of succulent meat from the bones. It tasted like sand in his mouth, and he knew it was pride he swallowed.
Theophilus spooned grain gruel into a small bowl and sprinkled pine nuts over the top. He set it before the silent barbarian. “I’d like to hear about the god you worship, Atretes.” He took his own bowl and reclined against the packs, eating his meal in silence, waiting.
Atretes debated saying anything. Thinking about Tiwaz opened old rifts of doubt. Rizpah sat with Caleb in her lap, feeding him pieces of fish. She looked so tranquil. How tranquil would she be when she faced the Thing? Sensing his perusal, she lifted her head and smiled at him. The soft glow in her eyes eased his mind, but quicken
ed his senses. Could he bear to lose her?
“Will you tell us about Tiwaz?” she said, searching his face in question. She lowered her head again and spooned more gruel into his son’s mouth.
“Tiwaz is the supreme sky god,” he said, tossing the stripped fish skeleton into the fire. “His consort is Tellus Mater.” Mother Earth. “He’s the god of battle and presides over the Thing.”
Theophilus frowned. “The Thing?”
“The assembly of my people. The men gather to settle disputes and establish laws. No man can be flogged, imprisoned, or put to death except on word of the priests in obedience to Tiwaz, who presides over battle. Tiwaz is the god of the wolf and raven, the god of the dead, and supreme master over magic.”
Atretes’ description filled Rizpah with misgivings.
“He is a god of valor, as well. Tiwaz was the only god brave enough to face the wolf, Fenrir. He fed the beast his own hand in order to bind him. There’s no god in Rome or elsewhere with more courage.”
“If that’s so, why did your god allow your people to fail in their rebellion against Rome?” Theophilus said.
Atretes hesitated and then was compelled to answer frankly. “Tiwaz is also known as the Arch-Deceiver.” He had come to think of Tiwaz more in that way over the past years in Rome and Ephesus. Tiwaz had been his battle cry in Germania, and Rome had been victorious over him. In fact, every time he had cried out to Tiwaz in jubilation or anguish, some further disaster befell his life. “He metes out victory and defeat with the indifference and arrogance of an earthly tyrant or any other god.”
“Then why worship him?” Rizpah said.
Atretes gave her a dark look. “I don’t. Not anymore. But I will pay him honor when I return home. He is more a god than yours. Tiwaz may be capricious, but he’s powerful. He’d never let his son die on a Roman cross or leave his believers to be food for beasts.”
“He left you a slave of Rome for ten years,” she said and saw she had roused his temper. “There is no Tiwaz, Atretes.”
“You forget the adversary,” Theophilus said, surprising them both. “The enemy of God goes by many names, but his purpose is the same: to blind men to the truth and keep them from fellowship with Christ.”
Atretes tossed his empty bowl aside. “Why would anyone want fellowship with a dead man, or with a god who lets his own son die?”
“Christ is alive,” Rizpah said fervently.
“Your Jesus Christ was crucified!”
“Yes, and he arose.”
“So some say, woman, but I’ve never seen him. Nor have you, if you’re honest.”
“Not in the physical sense, no, but I know he lives,” she said with conviction. “I feel his presence in the very air I breathe.”
“Jesus died in order that all of us might live, Atretes,” Theophilus said. “He obeyed the Father and was crucified in atonement for all our sins. When Jesus arose from the tomb, he removed every barrier, including the fear of death, between God and man. Our faith in Christ Jesus sets us free from anything man can do to us. Jesus is the Way and the Truth and the Life. There is no death in him. Through Christ, in Christ, we overcome the world.”
“So,” Atretes said, smiling sardonically, “if I were to kill you right here, right now, you believe you’d still be alive by the power of this god of yours.”
“Yes.”
Amused, Atretes drew his gladius casually and turned the blade. “Perhaps I should test your faith.”
“It may come to that,” Theophilus said, well aware Atretes still hated and distrusted him enough to plot his murder.
“Why do you press him?” Rizpah said in alarm to Theophilus, frightened that he should issue such a challenge. She looked at Atretes’ cold face, her heart beating frantically. Turning Caleb toward her lest he witness his father committing murder, she clutched him close. “If you kill Theophilus, I’ll take my son and return to Rome,” she said in a trembling voice.
“He’s my son, and you’re never going to see the other side of the mountains again,” Atretes said, his hand going white around the handle of his weapon.
“You want to kill me, too?” she said, angry at his obduracy but not surprised by it. “Go ahead, if it pleases you.”
“Be still, Rizpah,” Theophilus said quietly. “Atretes doesn’t seek to harm you. He intends to keep you with him.” He looked at him. “He thinks he has cause against me.”
Atretes was startled that defense should come from that quarter. “I know I have cause against you.”
“Because I’m Roman.”
“That, and other reasons.”
“He thinks you’re making reports at every fort we pass,” Rizpah said in great distress and earned a blistering glare from Atretes.
“If that were so, Atretes, you’d already be apprehended,” Theophilus said to him, looking straight into Atretes’ eyes for he had no motives to hide.
“Not if your intent was to learn Chatti weaknesses and strengths,” Rizpah said.
“Woman, you talk too much!”
“Perhaps you should talk more,” Theophilus said. “I could’ve gleaned what information we needed elsewhere and not roused unnecessary suspicions on your part. I apologize for my lack of sensitivity. I have one purpose, Atretes, and one purpose only in showing you the way back to your people. I want to give them the gospel. I’m called by God to do so, no matter what. If it will set your mind at rest, we won’t stop at any more Roman forts.”
Oddly, Atretes believed him and was even more perplexed.
“What about supplies?” Rizpah said. “We have little grain left.”
“The forests are full of game,” Theophilus said, relaxing back against the packs. “And we’re coming into spring. We’ll find plenty that’s edible growing all around us.”
Atretes studied him. The Rhine was only days away, and it was still a great distance beyond that before they entered Chatti territory.
Sliding the gladius back into its sheath, he reclined and stared into the flames. He would wait to kill Theophilus.
After all, what better sacrifice could he offer Tiwaz upon his homecoming than the blood of a Roman centurion?
29
When they reached a bluff overlooking the Rhine, Atretes raised his fists in the air and gave a bellowing roar that raised the hair on the back of Rizpah’s neck. Theophilus laughed, sharing in Atretes’ joy.
They traveled north along the high bluffs and then cut inland, to avoid entering the territory of the Vangiones, the Triboci, the Nemetes, and the Ubii tribes who lived near the river. They camped near warm springs, and Rizpah bathed with Caleb in comfort while the men went hunting. When they returned, Atretes was carrying over his shoulders a roebuck dressed and ready for roasting.
Night fell quickly in the forests of Germania. Wolves howled. Shadows moved. Sounds were unfamiliar. Rizpah couldn’t rid herself of a gnawing apprehension, even with the sunrise. The land bristled with forests, and she felt enclosed by an oppressive darkness. It was as though someone watched them and kept pace silently among the trees.
A raven lighted on a branch above her, and Rizpah felt herself being pulled back into darker times and beliefs. The huge bird was a bad omen, wasn’t it? She had to remind herself that the raven watching them was created by God, as were the mountains that separated her from the civilization she knew, and the forests through which she walked—even the very air she breathed was brought into being by God’s hand.
O Lord God, the earth and all that’s on it is your creation. You are sovereign of all I see and even that which I cannot see. What have I to fear?
“What’s wrong?” Atretes said, noticing her tension.
“I don’t know,” she said. She looked at Theophilus. “I feel the shadow of death around us.”
Frowning, Atretes looked around. He had been raised to believe women had prophetic powers and acute intuition. He wouldn’t discount Rizpah’s instincts simply because she was Ephesian.
Nothing moved. The stillness ma
de Rizpah’s stomach tighten and her heart pound.
No birds sang. No animals moved. All were in hiding. It had been eleven years since Atretes had fought Romans in these forests, but memory returned and with it full realization. The silence warned him what was coming. He drew his gladius and shouted in German to identify himself. It was already too late, for the baritus started before he’d opened his mouth. The spine-tingling war cry rose in the trees around and above them.
The hair stood on the back of Rizpah’s neck. “What is it?”
The harsh, intermittent roar rose like an unholy chant, made louder and reverberating as the warriors held their shields to their faces, shouting into them and banging them fiercely. The resulting sound was horrendous. Terrifying. Darkly ominous.
As Atretes listened to the rising sound, he knew he had made a mistake, possibly a fatal one. They were standing in a small glen with no protection. “Over there!” he shouted at Rizpah, shoving her hard toward a fallen log. “Get down and stay down!” He stepped into the open road and raised his arms, the gladius in one hand, the other a fist, and shouted louder. “I am Chatti!”
“It’ll do no good,” Theophilus said and drew his sword. The war cries brought back memories of long-ago battles. He knew what to expect, and his heart fell. The contest wouldn’t last long, and if they survived at all, it would be by the grace of God.
The roar abruptly stopped, and they could hear the pounding of heavy, running footsteps. “They’re coming,” Atretes said.
Theophilus listened, grim faced.
German warriors surged into the road ahead and behind. Arrows and spears flew. Dodging a framea, Atretes sliced through the first man to reach him. Bellowing his war cry, he charged over the fallen man. Caleb was screaming. Atretes plowed into two warriors, not even feeling the point of a sword graze his side as he cut them down.
Theophilus blocked blows and used the hilt of his gladius to down one of his attackers. Ducking sharply, he narrowly missed being decapitated as a sword swished over his head. He brought his fist up into the solar plexus of the younger warrior.