As Sure as the Dawn(141)
“What would you have me do?”
“Fix your eyes upon Jesus, the author and perfector of faith. Be zealous, but be patient. It was love that made the Lord give up his heavenly throne to walk among us as a man. It was love that held him on the cross and raised him from the dead. And it is love that will win your people to him.”
“My people don’t understand love. They understand power.”
“There is no power on earth that can overcome the love of God in Christ Jesus.”
Atretes exhaled a derisive laugh. “This from a man who once used the butt of his sword on the side of my head.” He sat down on a log and thrust his fingers through his hair in frustration.
“I’m not perfect,” Theophilus said with a rueful smile. He hunkered down. Noticing a pinecone, he picked it up. A few pine nuts fell into his hand. “I will give you words Jesus said.” He cast the pinecone away and held the seeds in his palm.
“Behold, a sower went out to sow; and it came about that as he was sowing, some seed fell beside the road, and the birds came and ate it. And other seed fell on the rocky ground where it did not have much soil; and immediately it sprang up because it had no depth of soil. And after the sun had risen, it was scorched; and because it had no root, it withered away. And other seed fell among the thorns, and the thorns came up and choked it, and it yielded no crop. And other seeds fell into the good soil and as they grew up and increased, they yielded a crop and produced thirty, sixty, and a hundredfold.”
He scattered the pine nuts. “You and I and Rizpah will sow the Word of God among your people.” Brushing off his hands, he stood. “Whether the seed takes root and grows or not isn’t up to us, Atretes. It’s up to the Lord.”
* * *
Freyja and Varus were standing in front of the longhouse when they returned. Freyja’s worried frown turned to relief when she saw them. She stretched out her hands to Atretes as he came near. “I awakened, and you were gone.”
He took her hands, bending down to kiss her on each cheek. “We pray each morning as the day begins.”
“So early?”
Atretes looked past her to Varus, grim and withdrawn. He released his mother’s hands and went to his brother. “You trusted me once, Varus. You followed me in battle. You fought beside me. No brother ever showed more courage than you.” He held out his hand. “I want no animosity between us.”
“Nor do I,” Varus said, taking the proffered hand, yearning for the old times when they had laughed and gotten drunk together. Eleven years had passed, and his brother had finally returned . . . bringing with him a dark, foreign wife and son, a Roman he called friend, and a new god. How could he think things would be the same?
“The cattle have to be pastured.” It occurred to Varus as he said it that the land he now held would revert to his brother as well. Resentment and jealousy filled him.
“Theophilus can help us.”
“Keep him away from me, or I swear by Tiwaz, I’ll kill him.”
As he turned away, Atretes started after him. Theophilus caught his arm. “Leave him be. It wasn’t many days ago when you felt the same way.”
Atretes jerked his arm away, but breathed out slowly, forcing his temper down. Theophilus was right. Patience . . . he had to have patience.
“It will take time for me to make a place among your people.”
“A place!” Freyja stared at Theophilus in horror. She swung to her son, appealing to him. “You cannot mean to let him stay here among us. Not after all that has happened at the hands of Rome.”
“Theophilus is here at my invitation, Mother,” Atretes said, tight-lipped as he saw she, too, was fighting him. “As a brother, not as a Roman.”
“I am thankful he saved your life, but last night should have made it clear this Roman has no place among us.”
“Would you fight me as well? He stays!”
“What’s happened to you? Romans killed your father! They killed Rolf and Dulga and half our tribe. There isn’t one person among us who hasn’t suffered tragedy at the hands of Rome! And you would dare to bring this man here to make a home among us?”
“I dare.”
She turned to Theophilus. “They will kill you.”
“They’ll try,” Theophilus conceded softly.
Surprised, she saw he had no fear of death. “Do you think this god of yours will protect you? Every man among the Chatti will plot to murder you.”
“If anyone touches him, they’ll contend with me!”
“You will contend with all if he remains! You will have to set yourself against your own people.” Neither man was swayed by her warning. Atretes’ jaw was set; the Roman looked at her with compassion. She knew her son’s stubbornness and so appealed to Theophilus for reason. “Atretes calls you friend. What will happen to him if you stay?”