“Anomia has told me of these things,” he said solemnly.
“I couldn’t see the man clearly. It could’ve been Atretes or the Roman or even someone else.”
“In time, we will know.”
“But what if it’s my son?”
“Have you no faith in your own prophesies, Freyja?” he said gently. “Atretes has returned and brought the woman with him, just as you said he would. He will lead our people to peace.”
“Peace,” she said softly, craving it with all her heart. “And what of the Roman with him?”
“What does one Roman matter?”
“Atretes calls him friend. My own son stands for him and swears to protect him. You know how Varus is. He’s bound to hospitality for the moment, but his anger is so great the hospitality won’t last. My sons almost came to blows last night. I’m afraid of what will come of this.”
“Nothing important will come of it. They quarreled. What young men do not? And they made amends. They’ll stand together as they always have.”
“Atretes speaks for a new god.”
“A new god? Who will listen? Tiwaz is all-powerful. All that we know is his dominion, Freyja. The sky itself belongs to Tiwaz.”
Doubts assailed her. When she had been caught in the vision, the Roman had merely spoken the name of Jesus Christ, and the spirit that Tiwaz had sent upon her had fled her body. She considered telling Gundrid what had happened, but she held her silence. She didn’t want to be the cause of anyone’s death, even a Roman’s. She needed to think. She needed to watch and consider. Atretes was involved with this man and she would do nothing that would jeopardize her son’s return to his rightful place as chief of the Chatti. And she prayed fervently that he would do nothing to destroy the people’s confidence in him.
Seeing her distress, Gundrid took her hand and patted it. “You’re worrying overmuch about this Roman, Freyja. He is one man against many. He will leave.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Then he will die.”
35
Atretes took his mother’s advice and spent most of his time renewing friendships with the villagers. Theophilus accompanied him, but in deference to Chatti feelings he quietly absorbed conversations without speaking. The villagers tolerated his presence for the sake of Atretes, but their animosity and distrust was felt by both. Theophilus ignored the numerous barbs about Romans, and his calmness lent Atretes the strength of will to allow the insults to pass.
Many of the younger men had gone with Rud and Holt to meet with the Bructeri and Batavi chiefs. Those too old or too young to fight remained. A small contingent of warriors had been left behind so that the village wouldn’t be undefended. Should trouble arise, word would be sent to the others. Usipi was eager to relinquish his home-guard leadership responsibilities, despite Varus’ misgivings and those of the three men who had greeted Atretes on his arrival.
“You are chief of the Chatti by proclamation of the Thing,” he said, encouraging Atretes to take his rightful place.
Atretes declined, no more eager than Usipi to lead. And he did not want to take his previous position of leadership for granted. “That was years ago. Rud is chief now and may think differently.” Eleven years was a long time to be away, and he wouldn’t usurp the man who had held the Chatti together during his captivity.
While others might covet the power of the chief, Atretes didn’t want the responsibility of leadership again. When his father had died and the warriors pressed him, he had submitted to their will for the sake of his people. Not one man had stood against him. Now his own brother wouldn’t stand with him.
Atretes wondered how it was possible, in the space of a few short weeks, to feel closer to the Roman than he ever had to his own kin. The bond between him and Theophilus grew stronger with each day. No matter where they were or what they were doing, the Roman spoke of the Lord. Atretes had asked to know everything, and Theophilus was eager to impart all he knew. Each moment was a precious opportunity, and he made use of it. Whether they were sitting, standing, or walking, Theophilus taught him Scripture, often reading from the scroll Agabus had copied on board the ship.
Rizpah treasured up everything Theophilus said, pondering it when she was away from him. The time they spent together was precious for it was peaceful. Elsewhere things were not.
Varus flew into a rage when Theophilus asked to buy a piece of land on which to build a grubenhaus for himself. “I’ll see you dead before you ever own a piece of Chatti land!”
“I don’t ask for land within the village boundaries, but on the outskirts of it,” Theophilus said, making no mention of the document in his possession giving him the right, by Roman law, to any frontier land he wanted as payment for his years of service in the army. He wanted to gain these people’s respect, not their continuing enmity.