Different how? she wondered. Was it because God had raised her from the dead that Atretes had felt he could marry her? She was afraid to ask, and doubt about his love tore at her.
I will trust in you, Lord. I will trust in you.
Theophilus told of an angel appearing to Joseph and telling him that Mary was with child by the Holy Spirit. Joseph was to call the child Jesus, because the babe would save his people.
Caesar Augustus called for a census. As was the custom of the Jews, Joseph took Mary, who was heavy with child, and returned to his birthplace, Bethlehem, to be counted. Jesus was born there, but in a stable because there was no place in the inn.
Wise men from the east who had followed a new star came and gave gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh to the child. King Herod, well aware of the prophesies of the Messiah, tried to find Jesus also, but for far darker reasons. When he couldn’t, he ordered all children born in Bethlehem and under the age of two be murdered. An angel of the Lord came to Joseph in a dream and warned him, so that he took Mary and Jesus and fled into Egypt.
When Herod died, an angel came again to Joseph in a dream and told him it was safe to return. Joseph brought Mary and Jesus to Nazareth in the region of Galilee. There, Jesus grew in wisdom and stature and in favor with God and men. It wasn’t until a prophet named John the Baptist came along, a man who preached the repentance of sin on the banks of the Jordan River, that Jesus began his public ministry and proclaimed the kingdom of God was at hand.
“Jesus was thirty years old when he came to John and was baptized. John resisted, recognizing Jesus was the Messiah. Jesus insisted John baptize him in order to fulfill all righteousness. That’s why we follow his example and do likewise. Our lives are to be a reflection of him. We decide for the Lord and act in obedience. And therein comes the difficulty, Atretes—living in accordance with God’s will and daily sacrificing our own. It was after Christ’s baptism that Jesus was sent by God into the wilderness where he fasted for forty days. At the end of it, when he was weak and hungry and most vulnerable, Satan tempted him.”
Atretes’ brows rose in disdain. “But this was God, so Satan was no real threat.”
“Satan is the enemy of God.”
“An enemy without power. Can he raise the dead?”
“As a warrior, you know better than to underestimate an enemy,” Theophilus said. “It’s true we aren’t to fear anything or anyone except the Lord. But now that you are a Christian, the real battle begins. Satan is a master deceiver, Atretes. Remember the subtle lie he told Eve and the consequences of it? Sin and death. Adam and Eve walked with the Lord in the Garden. They spoke with God face-to-face. If they could be deceived under such circumstances, do you think it impossible that you or I or Rizpah could be deceived as well? Satan is an eternal being, like God. He may not know all things as God does or have God’s power, but he knows our weaknesses even better than we do. He knows us intimately. He knows the evil desires of our heart and mind. He knows where and when to attack to gain the best advantage. Satan schemes and plays upon those things in order to separate us from God and bring about our destruction. Never underestimate him. Without our armor, we’re vulnerable.”
Atretes felt the intensity of Theophilus’ warning and heeded it. “What armor have we against this being?”
“The truth, the righteousness of Christ himself, the gospel of peace, salvation, our faith. Remember the arena, Atretes. You weren’t sent in to face an opponent without training and practice, without protection and weapons. Likewise, God will not send us into battle without the tools we need to stand against the enemy.”
He smiled grimly. “Gird up your loins with the truth God is revealing to you. Put on the breastplate of righteousness, shod your feet with the gospel of peace, and wear the helmet of salvation. Your faith in Christ is the shield against Satan’s arrows, and the Word of God is your sword. Without faith, without the Word of God, we’re defenseless against the powers of darkness. The battle is for your mind; the goal, the destruction of your soul.”
“We must never forget the power of prayer,” Rizpah said. She took her husband’s hand in both of hers. “At all times, pray in the Spirit, for Theophilus, for our son, for me, for your people, for yourself.”
“I will do as you say.”
“Do as the Lord says,” Theophilus told him, seeing a reverence for Rizpah that was misplaced. He knew the Germans thought women had spiritual abilities above and beyond men. But the miracle of Rizpah’s return from death was God’s doing, not her own. “Walk in all his ways and love him. Serve the Lord our God with all your heart and soul, and keep his commandments. We must all be on the alert, Atretes, for we are going to a place of darkness, territory now held by Satan.”
“Then we’ll do battle for it!”
“Not in the way you think. We will stand firm in faith and love, so that God himself will battle for us.”
* * *
They passed several small villages and entered the country of the hercynian forest. The tree-covered hills ran on, sloping down toward the plains. Atretes led Theophilus and Rizpah around a swampland and through a forest of spindly pines with black trunks. It was an eerie place filled with the sound of frogs and insects, with shadows, and with the dank smells of decay.
“Do I smell smoke?” Rizpah said, wondering if it came straight from the fires of hell. The scent was brief, acrid, possibly imagined.
“Rodung,” Atretes said and kept walking.
Theophilus fell into step beside her. “The Germans slash and burn sections of forest to release land for raising crops. The wood ash enriches the soil for several years, and then they let it go wild again.”
“We’re close,” Atretes said. “I know this place.” The familiar smells of forest, swamp, and burning brought back memories. He felt at home for the first time in over ten years. He wanted to run through the forest, framea in hand, shouting. He wanted to strip off his clothes and dance over the swords before the fire, crying out to the heavens as he had as a youth.
When Rizpah came up next to him, he pulled her close.
“Home,” he said, his fingers combing into her hair. “We’re almost home!” Laughing, he kissed her, opening her mouth, giving release to his excitement.
Rizpah gasped when he released her, falling back a step, her cheeks bright red. She looked startled and uncertain. Grinning down at her, Atretes took Caleb and sat him on his shoulders as they went on. “I used to hunt in those hills. Over there is swampland and a bog. Beyond that, just over that hill, is my village.” But when they came to the clearing, only charred and decaying remains of a long-ago burned village remained. Atretes walked out into the open, looking around. A portion of a huge longhouse remained, grass growing up between the broken-down beams and collapsed walls. Beyond, he saw the burned timber roofs of the grubenhaus. The sunken huts had caved in, leaving shallow hollows in the earth.
The old anger stirred in him. Rome!
Eleven years ago, he and his mother had laid his father in a funeral house not twenty feet from where he stood. Many other funeral houses had burned that night, but the village had been intact. A few months later, his people were scattered or dead, and he, a captive, had been chained in a wagon and on his way to the Roman ludus.
Several hundred people had once lived here. Where were they now?
Throwing his head back, Atretes gave a shout that reverberated. Frightened, Caleb started to cry. Atretes swung the boy down from his shoulders and half tossed him to Rizpah. Walking away from her and his son, he shouted again, louder, the sound of his deep voice carrying into the forest. If his people were anywhere near, they would hear and know he had returned.
The sound of his battle cry was so much like that of the attacking Mattiaci that Rizpah shuddered. Theophilus came and stood beside her. “I never made it this far north, but I can guess what happened.” He kicked at a burned and rotting piece of timber.
“I’m afraid,” she said. “And I’m not even exactly sure wh
at frightens me.” She looked up at him. “Do you think Atretes understands, really understands, what it means to be a Christian?”
“No. But then, neither did I in the beginning.”
“Nor I. Did you see the look on his face when he walked into the clearing?”
“I saw.”
“O God, help us. I love him so much, Theophilus. Maybe too much.”
“He has given his life to God. The Father won’t let him go.”
“But what can I do?”
“Walk in the Lord’s way and pray. Pray, beloved, and don’t stop.” Leaving her, he walked toward the German. “Do you want to camp here for the night or go further north?”
“Here. And we build a big fire.”
Theophilus felt the German’s anger like a black force. “I’ll gather wood.” He removed his packs, took a small ax from one of them, and headed for the woods.
Atretes gave another shout.
No answer came.
A few minutes later, the sound of Theophilus chopping wood echoed softly. Swearing, Atretes turned.
Rizpah’s heart broke at the look on his face. All the years of dreaming, all the months of travel and hardship, and they came to this: a burned out, deserted village. She set Caleb down and went to her husband. “We’ll find them,” she said, wanting to instill hope in him. “We won’t stop looking until we do.”
“They’re all dead.”
“No. We smelled smoke. You said rodung, and Theophilus told me fire is used by your people to release forest lands.”
Theophilus strode across the clearing and dumped an armload of wood near the collapsed longhouse. “They wouldn’t leave their sacred grove,” he said with excitement, as though it had just occurred to him.
Atretes looked half startled. “You’re right.” Grabbing up his pack, he headed across the clearing, framea in hand. Rizpah ran for Caleb while Theophilus shouldered his share of the gear.
They walked quickly, weaving their way through the trees. The wind changed, and Rizpah smelled smoke again, stronger this time.
Atretes stopped beside a gnarled pine. A ring of black bark had been cut away and runes carved into the smooth surface. “This marks the boundary of the sacred wood. The grove is a mile from here. That way.”
Theophilus shrugged off his pack. “We’ll wait for you here.”
Atretes glanced at him in surprise. “You’re afraid of Tiwaz?”
“No, but your people wouldn’t listen to me about the Lord if I desecrated their sacred wood by entering it.”
Atretes’ respect for Theophilus grew. Even so, he knew the only thing that would keep the Chatti from killing the Roman would be God himself. Theophilus knew this as well. With a nod, Atretes left them. Rizpah set Caleb down to play. The child found an acorn and tried to eat it. “No, no,” Rizpah said, stooping. She took it from his mouth and tossed it away.
“No, no!” Caleb said, mouth quivering.
Rizpah brushed his hair back from his face and kissed him. “The fire is to the northeast of us,” Theophilus said, leaning against the trunk of the border pine.
Rizpah approached and looked at the symbols carved there. Wolves surrounded a three-headed man with breasts and distended male genitals. In one hand, he held a scythe, in the other, a sword. A horned male figure stood beside him holding a framea. Runes were carved between. Frowning, Rizpah leaned down and touched one. “Atretes wore a pendant with this symbol on it.” She had seen it when he removed his clothing beside the spring.
“Does he still wear it?”
“No. When I asked about it, he took it off and threw it away.” She straightened up, then took Caleb’s hand and moved away from the tree. She didn’t want her son near it.
“He’s coming back,” Theophilus said.
Atretes ran toward them, weaving between trees with the grace of a born athlete. “I saw the white horses,” he said, hardly out of breath. “A new path heads northeast. The village must be that way. Two miles, maybe three from here if we go straight across.”
“We go around,” Theophilus said. “I’ll put no stumbling blocks in the way of the gospel. When the Chatti accept the truth, Atretes, Tiwaz will lose his hold upon them and this wood will have no more importance than the land around it.”
“Then we’ll have to push hard to make it before nightfall.”
32
They found the outer reaches of the village at dusk. Several men in coarse woven tunics and trousers were herding cattle into a longhouse for safekeeping. Atretes’ shout scattered the cattle and brought the men at a run. When they came closer, their war cries changed to boisterous greetings.
“Atretes!” Without releasing their weapons, they buffeted him joyfully while he laughed and gave as good as he received.
Rizpah stood by, staring, alarmed by their violent greeting. She had never seen men so rough looking and boisterous. When she glanced at Theophilus, she was relieved by his calm amusement. When the men’s excitement eased, they took full, bold notice of her and then looked at Theophilus. A tense silence fell.
“You bring a Roman with you?”
When the man stepped forward, Atretes made a swift movement, bringing the tip of his framea just below the man’s chin. “Theophilus doesn’t come as a Roman.”
“And that makes a difference?”
“I say it does.”
The man’s eyes narrowed, but he lowered his weapon. Atretes withdrew the framea, his own manner changed. “See to your cattle.”
The three men walked away, cold but subdued. Atretes watched them for a long moment and then glanced at Theophilus. Jerking his head, he took Rizpah’s hand and started down the road again.
Theophilus saw that the settlement wasn’t rundling style as he had expected, with homesteads grouped in a ring about a center space. It was a sackgassendorf, with buildings arranged on both sides of a central street. He counted eight large longhouses and more than twenty smaller dwellings, not including the grubenhaus, the meeting house. The far end of the street was blocked off for defense purposes.
Their arrival was noticed immediately, and news spread rapidly as adults sent children on the run from longhouse to longhouse. People came out of their homes and poured into the street, surrounding Atretes, talking and shouting all at once while he laughed and embraced one after another.
A blonde woman pushed her way through the crowd. “Marta!” Atretes cried out, and she flung herself into his arms, weeping. Atretes held her close while a man pounded his back. Laughing and crying, Atretes held her at arms’ length. Seeing someone else, he let out a shout and pushed his way through the crowd to a tall, powerfully built man who limped toward him. “Varus!” The men embraced.
Men, women, and children were talking excitedly, words rolling over one another, nothing understandable, and then a hush fell. Atretes and Varus still talked rapidly, not noticing as people moved aside for a woman in white. She walked sedately, nodding as people touched her lightly and moved back in respect. Her gray hair was braided and wound into a thick crown held by gold pins, and she wore a large amber stone encircled with gold and suspended on a thick gold chain.
Varus saw her first and clasped Atretes’ arm. Atretes turned and released his breath in surprise. “Mother,” he said and reached her in two long steps. Going down on one knee, he embraced her, his head resting against her breasts.
Weeping, Freyja stroked her fingers into his hair and tilted his head back. “My son,” she said, tears pouring down her pale cheeks. “My son has come home!”
Atretes was too filled with emotion to speak more and held tight to her. All this time, he had thought she was dead or a slave.
She kissed both his cheeks and then his mouth. “I knew you would return.” She stroked his hair back from his face tenderly. “Even when all those around me gave up hope, I knew Tiwaz would protect you and bring you back to us.”
As Atretes rose, she put her hand on his arm. Her gaze swept the crowd as though searching for someone and came to r
est upon Rizpah.
Rizpah saw recognition flicker in the beautiful blue eyes so much like Atretes’. The woman smiled at her and said, “She is with you.”
“My wife, Rizpah,” Atretes said.
“And the child?”
“My son.”
A murmur went through the crowd, whispers of surprise and curiosity. “So dark,” someone said. Atretes took the boy from Rizpah and held him high so all could see. “His name is Caleb.”
“Caleb!” all shouted, and Rizpah expected Caleb to start crying from the boisterous, frightening sound that rose. Instead, he gave an excited laugh, reveling in the attention. Grinning, Atretes handed the child back to her. She held him close. She could feel everyone staring at her and heard those words again, “So dark . . .”
Freyja looked at the man standing beside her son’s wife and knew only that he was Roman. He looked back at her, eyes warm and without subterfuge. Fear gripped her, unreasoning and inexplicable. “Who is this man?”
Theophilus stepped forward and bowed his head in respect. When he spoke, it was in flawless German, even his accent matching that of the Chatti. “My name is Theophilus, my lady, and I come in peace as an ambassador for Jesus Christ, son of the living God.”
Freyja felt a tremor. She glanced up at her son. “Who is this Jesus Christ?”
Astounded, Atretes stared at Theophilus.
Theophilus answered, “Jesus is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation.” He held his hands toward the stars beginning to appear in the sky. “‘For by him all things were created, both in the heavens and on earth, visible and invisible, and in him all things hold together.’”
Rizpah’s heart raced as she realized she, too, understood every word spoken in German. What was more, she knew she could speak as well. “My lady,” she said, joy filling her as she came forward to stand beside Theophilus, “mother of my husband, I beg of you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to the God who created you, the God who loves you and calls you to repentance.”