“Maybe Rizpah’s right,” Atretes said. “Maybe I should listen to them more.” He left, slamming Theophilus’ door so hard it banged twice. Setting Caleb aside, Rizpah rose and watched him stride through the snow and into the woods.
“I wish we could go back,” she said. “I wish we could take Caleb and go back to Rome and find the others.”
“God wants us here.”
“Why?” She was as agitated and incensed as Atretes had been. His anger seemed to rouse her own. “None of these people want to hear the truth. You should hear the men each night in the longhouse, going on and on about the battles they’ve won or want to win. They boast and gloat and they drink until they can hardly stand up to go home. None of them have a heart for the Lord, Theophilus. Not one!”
“Two do,” he said, “and probably others, though they haven’t the courage to show themselves. Not yet.”
She stilled in surprise. “What do you mean?”
He told her about his night visitors. “Trust in the Lord, Rizpah. His Word doesn’t go out and come back empty.”
“Well, God is taking too long,” she said, hugging herself against the cold. “Atretes’ faith is crumbling.”
“All the more reason for you to remain strong, beloved.”
She turned and looked at him. She had hoped for reassurance, but Theophilus saw as well as she did what was happening to Atretes. “Be strong, you tell me.” Her eyes welled. “I’m not strong, Theophilus, not like you are. If we couldn’t come here and speak with you, we’d both fall apart.”
Theophilus stood and took her hands in his. “You must listen to me, Rizpah. Look to the Lord, not to me.”
“I’m afraid of what’s happening to him. They won’t relent,” she said. “They torment him with questions and debate. Sometimes I think they do it deliberately, just to make him hate Rome and the Bructeri and the Hermunduri and everyone who isn’t Chatti. They make me so angry. And that woman . . .”
“You know the Word of the Lord. Don’t let yourself be moved by their words. God is allowing Satan to sift Atretes, just as the apostle Peter was sifted. Each one of us is sifted. We go through fire.”
“For some, it’s worse.” She took her hands from his and went outside. Drawing the cold air into her lungs, she wondered if she should follow Atretes and talk with him.
“Leave him alone, Rizpah,” Theophilus said quietly from the open doorway. “Let him think.”
“Sometimes he thinks too much and all about the wrong things.”
“He’s going to have to choose.”
She knew he was right. Atretes needed to be alone. He needed to be away from the clamor of men and her. Everyone was pulling at him. “They want their leader back, Theophilus,” she said bleakly. “They want him the way he used to be, a warrior to lead them into battle.”
“Atretes put himself in God’s hands when he believed in Christ and was saved.”
“You don’t understand. I think he wants to lead them.”
“To God.”
“That was true when we first came here. I don’t know if it is anymore.”
“He’s learning the hard way that he can’t employ the same methods of persuasion he always has used. Strength and pride won’t work. Weakness and humility are the only way.”
“Atretes doesn’t know how to be weak and humble.”
“Then let go of him, Rizpah, and let God teach him.”
She closed her eyes. “Sometimes I see a look on his face . . .” She looked out at the stark white snow again.
Theophilus came outside to stand beside her. He could see the struggle going on within her and wanted to put his arms around her and comfort her. But there was trouble enough brewing without creating further tensions. Atretes wasn’t in a rational mood, and he doubted he had gone far.
Rizpah sighed. “Holt said to him last night that a man feels more alive when he’s facing death. Is that true?” When he didn’t answer, she glanced up at him. Her lips parted in surprise. “You miss the fighting, too, don’t you?”
Theophilus gave her a rueful smile. “Sometimes. Less as I get older.” His expression became solemn. “Less as I draw closer to the Lord.”
“I wish I could understand.”
“You do, in part. You don’t contend with Atretes the way you once did. The Lord has softened you.”
“Softened my head, perhaps.”
He laughed. “Softened your heart, beloved.” He touched her shoulder. “Let him soften you more. Pray for these people, especially the ones who are trying to pull Atretes back to the old ways. Even Anomia.”