As Sure as the Dawn (70 page)

“Lord, you are my Rock and my Redeemer,” Rizpah murmured in complete surrender.

Anomia pulled Rizpah’s head back further, exposing her pale throat. “Atretes knows the law! He brought her here, for he knew in his heart that only we could set him free of the spell by which she’s bound him and his son. Once she is dead, he’ll be the man we used to know. He’ll lead us to victory.”

Atretes raised his head, his eyes awash with tears. “Kill my wife and I swear before God, I’ll lead you all to hell!”

“No, Atretes!” Rizpah said in grief. “No, beloved. Remember the Lord. Remember what we’ve been taught.”

Feed the sheep.

He wept. “They’re going to kill you because of me!”

“God is with us. Whom shall we fear?”

“I love you! I love you. Forgive me.” He saw in her eyes she already had.

“See the power she has over him!” Anomia cried out. “There is no deliverance for us if we let her live.”

“Take her to the bog!” Rud shouted, and as chief, his words were heeded.

“The bog!” Others agreed, until Rolf and Herigast’s voices were drowned out in the din and confusion.

Anomia’s eyes gleamed with malicious delight as she looked down into Rizpah’s face. “See the power I have over you,” she hissed.

“You have no power but what God has given you.”

“So even
he
heeds my voice,” she mocked. She leaned closer. “I thirst to rip out your throat with my own teeth, but they must do it.” She released her and stepped back. She called forth Rud to fulfill the law and the custom. “Shave off her hair.”

Rud took out his knife and proceeded to shave the left side of Rizpah’s head close to the scalp. On the right side, he cut the hair two inches in length, letting the luxuriant dark locks fell to the ground around her.

Rizpah saw Freyja weeping, clutching her amber amulet. “Turn to the Lord, Mother.”

Anomia struck her again, dazing her. “Strip her and put the collar on!”

Rud slit the back of Rizpah’s tunic and tore it from her. He took the heavy leather collar from Anomia’s hand and put it around Rizpah’s neck, then dragged her roughly to her feet.

“The Lord will bring to light the truth, if you but ask,” Rizpah said, using what time she had left. “Christ died for your sins. He was buried and raised on the third day. Through one man, Adam, death came into the world; and through Jesus Christ, our Lord, we have life everlasting.”

“Silence her!” Anomia said, her eyes flashing with fury.

Rud struck Rizpah a vicious blow and then shoved her in the direction of the bog. The others followed.

“Bring Atretes!” Anomia called back to them. “He must watch her die if the spell is to be broken.” She looked into his eyes, wanting him to know it was his suffering and not his redemption she sought.

Hauled to his feet, Atretes was taken along. Others, concerned for Rolf and Herigast, brought them as well.

Anomia led the gathering of Chatti warriors by torchlight through the dense forest to the edge of the marshland. She felt an eerie change around her, as though the air itself was charged with power. The hour of darkness was passing away. Dawn would be upon them soon. The deed must be done.

She hurried her steps, urging the others on.

Gray moss hung from the branches of ancient trees. The air smelled of decay. She came to the edge of bog and turned, facing those who had followed her. Atretes wept openly, his eyes never straying from his wife’s face.

The priestess looked upon Rizpah with contempt. Atretes’ woman, too, was broken, for her eyes were closed, her lips moving as though she had gone completely mad.

“By the power I’ve been given by Tiwaz, I proclaim this woman unchaste, a foul witch and deceiver, and I pass the sentence of death upon her. Let her be cast into the bog.”

Rizpah raised her head and looked from face to face. “My God, whom I serve, is able to deliver me from the pit.”

Warriors jeered.

“Deliver you?” Anomia laughed. “You’re going to be sucked down into the bowels of the earth, never to be seen again.” Stepping back, she spoke loudly to those gathered. “Listen to me and obey! Her name is never to be spoken among the Chatti again. Let it be as though she never walked the face of the earth.” They cried out their assent.

Atretes went to his knees, his lips moving as the Ionian’s had done. Anomia saw Rizpah smile at him tenderly.

“Take her!”

Rud grasped Rizpah’s arms.

“No, Rud,” Rizpah said, looking into his weathered face. “Let me go alone, lest you die as well.”

His eyes flickered.

“Do you listen to her or me?”

Rud’s grip tightened. He pushed Rizpah out onto a wide plank, but as he came near the end, his feet slipped. Releasing her, he tried to save himself. Instead, he lost his balance, and they both fell.

“Throw him a rope!” Holt shouted. Panic spread through the gathering as they saw their high chief in the bog, flaying for a handhold.

“Hurry!” he screamed.

A rope snaked out to him, but he was already going under.

Atretes shut his eyes tightly so he wouldn’t have to watch his wife drowning with his friend. “Lord Jesus, God of mercy,” he moaned, as men shouted. He heard Rud choking and crying out for help.

The men pulled and pulled and then fell back as the rope was released.

Silence fell, and then another scream rent the air, a woman’s scream.

“Look!” Freyja pointed, her face draining of all color.
“Look! Do you see?”

Restraining hands dropped from Atretes as Chatti warriors cried out and fled or fell upon their faces in terror. Uttering a moaning wail, Anomia stared and still could not believe. And then fear such as she had never known filled her and she ran wildly, disappearing into the shadows of the forest.

“He brought me up out of the pit of destruction, out of the miry clay, and he set my feet upon a rock, making my footsteps firm.”

Rizpah kept walking until she was twenty feet beyond the place where Rud had sunk into the bog, and there she stood, in the middle of the bog, as though on solid ground.

Beside her was a man, tall and powerful, shimmering with radiant white.

The sun rose brilliantly behind Rizpah, and for an instant Atretes wondered if he had gone mad and was imagining what he thought he saw. “Rizpah!” he cried out, throwing his hand up to shield his eyes from the brightness, unable to see her.
“Rizpah!”

Then suddenly, he saw her again. She was running toward him, the dazzling light still at her back. He met her at the edge of the bog and caught her in his arms, pulling her close, holding her tightly against him. He buried his face in the curve of her neck, his hands covering her shaven head, his legs buckling. She went to her knees with him.

Shaking violently, eyes wide, Herigast stared out into the swamp. Sunlight streamed through the distant trees, almost blinding him. He realized he was shouting and crying and laughing all at the same time. The white light faded into softer colors of morning.

Rolf rose from the ground where he had prostrated himself. The few who had remained rose with him. Most had run away.

Atretes rose, drawing his wife up with him. “Jesus is Lord!” he said, a joyous conviction ringing in his voice that hadn’t been there before. The sound of it echoed through the forest, driving back the darkness. “He is Lord of the heavens and the earth and all that is within it. Bless his holy name!”

“Bless his holy name,” Herigast said, awed, heart still pounding.

Trembling, Freyja rose from the ground where she had prostrated herself. She fumbled with the amber talisman bearing the runes of Tiwaz, removing it from around her neck. With a soft cry, she flung the pendant far out into the bog and watched it quickly sink from her sight. The fear and despair that had so often held her captive melted away.

Rolf waited, uncertain. Not until Atretes turned and looked at him would he would know whether he lived or died. In either case, so be it. Atretes released Rizpah and turned. When he let his wife go and walked toward him, Rolf lowered his eyes, feeling the heavy purpose in each step that brought Atretes nearer.

“Forgive me,” Atretes said hoarsely. “I was a fool.”

Rolf’s head came up. Tears filled his eyes. “Less than I.”

Atretes gripped the younger man’s shoulder. “It seems to be the failing in all men.”

“We must tell the others!” Freyja said, face shining.

But someone else had reached them first.

Marta burst from the forest, thrusting Caleb and clothing in Rizpah’s arms. “You must go. Take her quickly, Atretes, or they’ll kill you, too.”

“Marta!” Rizpah said, reaching for her, but Marta shook her head, backing away.

“Shake the dust of this place from your feet and leave,” Marta said, running away as villagers appeared.

“Leave us!” men and women shouted hysterically. “Take your foreign wife and god and go from us before you bring further calamity.”

Theophilus’ possessions as well as their own were thrown at them.

“Go!”

“No!” Freyja cried out. “The Lord Jesus Christ
is
the true God.” She ran into the midst of them, searching for Varus, for Usipi, for anyone who might listen.

Herigast and Rolf ran in search of their wives.

“Their god will destroy us!”

“Go away from here!”

Some picked up clods and stones to throw.

“Leave us!”

“Leave us!”

Atretes pulled Rizpah back. “We must go.”

“We can’t leave them.”

Grabbing up the gear, Atretes sheltered his wife and son as he urged them toward the forest east of the village. When Rizpah looked back, he caught hold of her hand and kept walking.

“Feed the sheep,”
Theophilus had said, but something more impelled Atretes onward and kept him from looking back again:
“And any place that does not receive you or listen to you, shake off the dust from the soles of your feet for a testimony against them.”

Rizpah wept for the lost, and so did he, but they’d made their choice, just as Rud had the instant before he fell into the pit.

“Wait!” someone called. “Wait for us!”

Atretes stopped and looked back, his throat working as he saw Rolf running toward him, holding his wife by the hand. When they reached them, Rizpah thanked God and embraced them each in turn while Atretes stood to one side, his gaze searching the forest for others, praying fervently more would follow. “Are there others coming?”

“I don’t know,” Rolf said, out of breath. “I didn’t wait. I didn’t look back.”

Atretes led them on through the forest.

They made camp on an eastern hill a far distance from the village.

As darkness fell, Rizpah sat in front of her husband, leaning into him, Caleb in her lap. Atretes put his arms around her, nuzzling her shorn hair, thanking God he hadn’t lost her. Then he closed his eyes.

Rizpah knew he was praying. He had said hardly anything all day. She knew what was in his heart and joined him in beseeching the Lord.

A twig snapped and they looked up. Atretes drew in a ragged breath, his heart in his throat. “Thank God,” he said in a hoarse voice.

With a soft cry, Rizpah set Caleb quickly aside and jumped to her feet.

Freyja came into her arms and clung to her. “Wherever you go, I will go. Your God will be my God.”

Others had come with her.

“Good thing you camped on a hillside,” Usipi said, grinning as he came forward, clasping Atretes’ hand. Marta set Luisa down and went into her brother’s arms, the children around her. Herigast and Anna had come, as well as Helda and her husband, Sig. Everyone was talking at once.

Atretes looked around at those who had come out of the darkness into the circle of light.

So few,
he thought and then pressed the sorrow back. There were other things to think of, many things to do, and with the same fierce determination he had always possessed in matters of life and death, he turned his will and life to the task ahead.

“Feed the sheep,”
Theophilus had said.
“Feed the sheep.”

It was a small flock.

But it was a beginning.

E P I L O G U E

Atretes led the small of band of Christians into the northeastern plains where they established a small community on one of the Roman trade routes. Atretes and Rizpah began the task of teaching and guiding those who had left behind all for the glory of the gospel. The small band grew strong in their faith and soon were sharing their testimony with traveling merchants who came to their village. Before long the Word of the Lord spread north, south, east, and west.

Rizpah and Atretes found a new and deeper joy in each other as they grew ever closer to the Lord. And Caleb was delighted the day their family was increased when his sister, Hadassah, was born. She was to be the first child of many born in the small community; the second generation of a people wholly devoted to Jesus Christ.

As for Anomia, within a year of her hasty departure from the sacred grove, she returned to her people and plied them with claims of having received revelation from Tiwaz. Rome would fall, she told them, and they would be the ones to bring her down. They believed her. Alliances were sought and made, warriors gathered.

In
A.D.
83, the Chatti led a second rebellion against the Empire. Domitian, the new emperor, sent his legions north. Within two years, the Chatti were destroyed. A few villagers survived, Anomia among them.

They all died as slaves in foreign lands.

When he heard the news, Atretes gathered his people together. “God’s promises are sure,” he said, his voice ringing out. “As is his judgment. We can be certain both will come, as surely as the dawn will come each day. Now, as we grieve our lost brothers and sisters, let us rejoice in all God has done for us, and let us remember that the only difference between us and those who perish is Christ. Without him, we all fail. With him, we come out of the darkness and into the dawn, for he has given us a future and a hope.”

“Amen,” Rizpah said quietly beside him.

“Amen,” the others responded.

“Rizpah, would you teach me to read?”

She looked up at Atretes in surprise at his question, and he smiled wryly. “Every day I hear you reading the words of God, and I long to do so for myself, to spend time with those words, to carry them to others.” He reached down for her hand and held it tenderly. “Please, my love, will you teach me to read?”

Moved by the humility of his words, Rizpah could only nod. With each new day, she had seen more and more of Atretes’ pride be put to death, and in its place God was filling the man she loved with wisdom, gentleness, and the fierce determination to follow Christ’s example. As she gazed upon his face, she was overwhelmed with a sense of gratitude.

Lord, how good you are!

Within a few months, Rizpah taught Atretes to read the copy of the scroll Theophilus had brought with him from Ephesus, the same scroll Agabus had copied during the long sea voyage years before. The original scroll had been left with the church in Rome.

At last, one early morning, Atretes gathered the believers together and sat before them. Rizpah was beside him, the scroll in her lap. When Atretes reached for the scroll, unfurled it, then began to read to them, a hush came over the room. Those gathered listened raptly to the German’s deep voice as he read from the testimony of one who had walked with the apostle Paul, as well as others who had spoken face-to-face with the Christ.

The letter began, “Inasmuch as many have undertaken to compile an account of the things accomplished among us, just as those who from the beginning were eyewitnesses and servants of the word have handed them down to us, it seemed fitting for me as well, having investigated everything carefully from the beginning, to write it out for you in consecutive order, most excellent Theophilus, so that you might know the exact truth about the things you have been taught.”

The letter had been written by a physician, a friend of Theophilus’, a man named Luke.

At the end of the reading, many came forward to shake Atretes’ hand and clap him on the back. “A true leader never stops learning,” Freyja said to her son, her eyes shining with pride. Atretes drew her to him, hugging her fiercely. Rizpah watched them, tears in her eyes.

For as long as Atretes lived, he led such gatherings, teaching and instructing those in the community on the words of the Lord. And every morning, as the sun rose, Atretes and Rizpah went to their knees, praying for their children. Beseeching God on Hadassah’s and Caleb’s behalf, they entreated God to instill his words within their children’s hearts, to create a hunger within them for his Word, and to make them
his
children, not theirs alone.

And God answered. Both Caleb and Hadassah grew up strong in the Lord. Hadassah was a credit to her namesake, for she became known throughout the region as a young woman of wisdom and great kindness. But it was Caleb who seemed especially attuned to the things of the Spirit. He studied the Word of God hungrily, as though he could not get enough of it.

“God has a special purpose for that one,” Herigast said one night, watching Caleb where he was bent over the scrolls. Rizpah and Atretes only nodded, smiling.

It was little surprise, then, when their son came in one evening, his eyes alight with excitement.

“God has spoken to me!” he exclaimed.

Atretes sat in silence, waiting for his son to continue.

“Father, Mother, God has called me to take his Word to the Vikings.”

Rizpah looked at Atretes in alarm. “The Vikings?” she said. “But Caleb—”

“Rizpah.” Atretes’ quiet voice halted her words, and she met his loving gaze. “Not ours alone, remember?”

She nodded and went to embrace her son.
He is yours, Lord,
she prayed.
He has been from the beginning!

It was a bittersweet moment, as was the morning when the community gathered to bid Caleb farewell. They prayed together, commissioning him in God’s name and trusting him to the Lord’s care.

And though none of them ever saw him again, they knew he was in God’s hands—just as each of them was—and they were at peace.

Sierra Madrid.
Woman of the nineties. Beautiful and confident, outspoken and fiery, she is a force to be reckoned with.

Mary Kathryn McMurray.
Young pioneer woman of the 1880s. Strong willed and courageous, wise beyond her years, she faced a demanding, dangerous journey through the wilderness to a land her husband swore was the promised land. . . . But all his glowing assurances did nothing to still the young woman’s fear and anger at being uprooted from her home.

Mary Kate and Sierra. Two Christian women, centuries and circumstances apart. And yet, as Sierra studies her ancestor’s beautiful, handcrafted quilt and reads the pages of the girl’s journal—pages filled with the outpourings of a struggling heart—she finds a kindred spirit, one who faced the same challenges, fought the same doubts and fears, and sought the same answers. Together the two women share a journey that will push them to the limits of their endurance and faith as they contend with God, their parents, their husbands, and even themselves—until they come to recognize and surrender to the sovereignty of Jesus Christ, the one who loves them eternally and unconditionally.

The Scarlet Thread,
a powerful novel from beloved author Francine Rivers. Available at a bookstore near you.