As Sure as the Dawn(152)

“I will think on it.”

“Don’t think on it! Do the word I’ve taught you. Walk in a manner worthy of Jesus Christ. Please God in all aspects of your life.”

“I could easier die for him myself than stand by and watch you butchered!”

“Satan knows that better than you. You’ve got to resist him. Hold to your faith and rest in Christ. If I die tonight, rejoice. I will be with our Lord! There’s no power great enough to separate me from Christ Jesus. You know death cannot.”

The men in the forefront stopped. Holt came back to them, the torchlight revealing his anger and fear. “Be silent!” He glared at Atretes. “You know the law.”

Atretes stiffened at the reprimand, but Theophilus nodded and said no more.

As they came to the sacred grove, Theophilus saw a fire was burning in a protected casement. An old priest was waiting for them, his heavy white linen tunic interwoven with purple designs. An ancient oak was at the center, and when all were seated, he removed the emblems of Tiwaz hidden within its trunk.

Reverently, Gundrid held up the golden horns for all to see. He always relished this moment and the power he felt come with it. He chanted and swayed as he placed them upon a rough stone altar near the fire that was kept perpetually burning.

Atretes untied the rope from around Theophilus’ wrists and ankles. Rolling it up, he set it to one side.

Taking a dagger from his belt, Gundrid cut his own arm and let his blood drip over the sacred horns. Rud came forward and did likewise, then passed the ceremonial dagger to Holt. When Holt finished the rite, Gundrid took the dagger. Placing it flat on both palms, he turned and held it out expectantly to Atretes.

“We have waited long for your return. Atretes, son of the great Hermun, high chief of the Chatti, Tiwaz awaits the renewal of your vows.”

Atretes remained sitting. He looked at Gundrid and said nothing.

The old priest stepped closer. “Take the dagger from my hand.” Anomia had warned him Atretes had lost faith. “You are a man of honor,” he said, wanting the glory of bringing him back. “Remember your vow.”

Atretes stood slowly. “I recant Tiwaz,” he said loud enough for all to hear.

Gundrid drew back from him. Clutching the dagger’s handle, he held it at his side. “You dare speak thus before the altar of our god?” he said, his voice rising with each word he uttered.

“I dare,” Atretes said calmly, his countenance as fierce as any other man present. He looked from face to face, seeing men who had been his friends and who now looked at him with wary distrust, anger, and fear. “I dare more. I proclaim Jesus Christ is Lord of all!” he shouted, his voice carrying through the sacred wood.

A dark wind blew, shaking the leaves and branches as it came on like the approach of a malevolent being. Fear filled Gundrid, and he called out a frantic prayer, beseeching Tiwaz to withhold his wrath from them. Even Atretes felt dread as the frogs and insects went silent in the woods around them, and a coldness crept into the circle that had gathered before the eternal flame. He felt a presence, one so cold that it was hot.

Gundrid cast something into the fire, and colors exploded around him, sparks flying upward. The smell of burning sulphur drifted on the air, mingling with other stranger smells. His eyes rolled back in his head as something seemed to take possession of him. Words, incomprehensible, came pouring from his lips, his voice deeper and guttural, a savage growl.

“Tiwaz speaks,” Rud said, and all those watching sat in terror, banging their weapons against their shields and shouting. The baritus rose, filling the darkness. “Tiwaz! Tiwaz! Tiwaz!” The name sounded like a drumbeat, building until the priest uttered a scream that made Atretes’ stomach tremble and his hair stand on end. Whatever had come upon Gundrid departed.

The men fell silent, watching and waiting.

Dazed, Gundrid looked at Atretes standing before him. He saw with keener insight the doubt and fear flickering in the younger man’s eyes. Tiwaz had not lost his hold entirely.

“You have been deceived, Atretes,” Gundrid said and pointed an accusing finger at Theophilus. “Tiwaz has revealed this man’s hidden motives to me!” He looked around at the warriors gathered. “The Roman speaks peace,” he shouted, “but brings to us lies and a false god in an attempt to weaken our people!” He spread his arms, encompassing all present. “If you listen, you will be destroyed!”

The Chatti warriors shouted vows to Tiwaz. Gundrid listened, raising his hands again and encouraging them to shout even louder. He was triumphant as he looked at the Roman sitting beside Atretes. He knew a more fitting end for the Roman’s life than an honorable contest with a Chatti warrior.