by Carol Ashby
“Fortuna has smiled on us. I’m just returning from Aventicum, and I’m leaving for Lugdunum day after tomorrow. I had planned to stay another day with my brother. We would have missed this meeting after so many years.” He slapped Tiberius’s shoulder. “It’s time to celebrate. You will, of course, stay the night with me. I’ll ride ahead to start the dinner preparations.”
As his friend cantered away, Galen rode up beside Tiberius. Tiberius’s frown stopped any words, but Galen’s smile and shrug said it all.
South of Aventicum, Day 60
It had been another luxurious night with Tiberius’s friend outside Octodurus. But it was a two-day ride to Aventicum, and the only roof over them tonight held the stars. The horses stirred on the picket line, and Galen scanned the edge of the woods. An owl appeared against the moon before swooping down to the grass. Its talon gripped a mouse when it rose into the sky.
Otto had been asleep for some time since he was taking the second watch. Tiberius was in his tent as well. Adela had won her short argument with him over who would take the third watch. Now she sat across the fire in Tiberius’s field chair. She’d seemed too quiet since supper, and she sat poking at the coals with a long stick.
Galen closed his eyes, and peace swept over him. God, I thank You for this day. For Adela and Otto and Tiberius. For―
“Galen?” Thick tension coated her voice.
He opened his eyes to find her staring at him with eyes that looked too moist.
“Is something wrong?”
She bit her lip. “Yes.”
He straightened. “Can I help?”
“I don’t know if anyone can.”
“Tell me what it is, and I’ll try.”
She took a deep breath, and it turned into a sigh. “Everything is so…uncertain. I used to know what I wanted, what the future held, how to get there. But now, since Gundahar took me and after this trip with you…I don’t know what to do anymore. But you always seem to, no matter what happens. Why is that?”
She pulled at the edge of her eye, and he could have sworn that was a tear she wiped away. His heart rate ramped up. God, is this the time? Give me the words.
“Remember in the mansio, when you asked me about talking with God?”
“Yes. You said your god guides you when you don’t know what to do. I’d never heard of any god who talks to people like us. Mother said the high priestess of Nerthus got messages from her during the sacrifices, but plain people like us, just talking with her by a campfire…I don’t think that works.”
“Tiberius would tell you that’s because the gods aren’t real. He’d say they’re just stories made up by people trying to make sense of the world around them. For the most part, he’s right, but in one case, he’s totally wrong. There is one God who is real, and He’s the one I talk with.”
“The god of the Christians?”
“First of the Jews and now of the Christians, too.”
“Why is he different from the others?”
Galen’s hand swept toward the clearing and forest around them. “You see all this? It didn’t just happen. Someone made it. That someone is God. He made people, too, but He made us different from the animals. He made us in His own image. We can think and dream and plan…things no animal does. He made us that way so He could enjoy being with us, but we ruined that with our sins.”
Her head tilted. “Sins?”
“The things we do that are wrong, and the things we don’t do that we ought to. The problem is that God is holy but we never can be because we keep committing sins, even when we’re trying our best not to. That puts a barrier between us and God, one we could never cross on our own. But He loves us so much he wants us with Him. So, when our sins built that barrier, He decided to give us a way across it. God came as a man, as Jesus, and made Himself the sacrifice to remove our sins.
“Jesus was crucified in Judaea ninety years ago and paid the penalty we couldn’t pay ourselves. His suffering and death paid the price to redeem us, like buying a slave and setting him free. All we have to do is admit the truth of what He did and accept His gift of forgiveness. Then our sins are erased, and the barrier is gone. Believing Jesus did that is what makes me a child of God. It’s why I can talk with Him like I do.”
Adela’s brow furrowed. “How can you be sure Jesus wasn’t just a man? Anyone could say he’s a god. If he really was, how could the Romans have killed him?”
“He let them do it. That’s why God came to earth as a man in the first place. His death was the sacrifice for the sins that separate us from God.”
“That man in Octodurus…” She shuddered. “It’s such a horrible way to die. How could he ever let them do that?”
“Because He loves us enough to pay that price.”
“But how do you know his death did anything?”
“He explained it all to His followers before it happened. He didn’t just claim He would die to be the sacrifice for sin. He proved He had the power to do whatever He said by rising from the dead three days later.
“And He really was dead. A soldier drove a spear into His side to make sure. The governor of Judaea himself asked the centurion who crucified Him if Jesus was dead before he let them take the body. They put Him in a tomb sealed with a stone slab too heavy for one man to move, but that tomb opened when He rose from the dead.
“Jesus told His followers before He died that He had the power to give up His life and take it back again, and that’s exactly what He did. That was the proof that He was the true Son of God, not just some man claiming to be God.”
Adela rubbed her cheekbone. “Are you sure he came back to life? Couldn’t his body have disappeared because several men opened the tomb and took it?”
“Jesus met with His followers many times between His death and when He returned to God the Father in heaven. They spread out across the Empire to tell any who would listen about what Jesus had done. Some came to Rome, and that’s how my father came to believe.”
Adela nibbled her lip. “Just believing in Jesus makes you a child of your god?”
“Yes, and it means I don’t have to fear death myself.”
Adela raised her chin. “A Germanic warrior doesn’t fear death.” Her gaze dropped to the ground, then rose to meet his again. “At least, they say they don’t. Shame is feared more.” Her eyes lowered and raised again. “A Germanic woman feels the same. Better dead than shamed.”
She cleared her throat, and Galen’s brow furrowed. Adela’s voice had caught as she said ‘shamed,’ but why? He opened his mouth to ask, but she cut him off.
“So, if you’re a child of God, does the son of God love you like a brother? Like you love Otto? You would have died to free him.”
“Jesus said, ‘Greater love has no man than this, to lay down his life for a friend.’ And then He said, ‘You are my friends if you obey what I command.’ And what He commanded was for us to love God and each other.
“Out of love, He sacrificed Himself to save me. The truest test of love is what I’m willing to sacrifice for someone, even if it’s my own life.”
“You could have died fighting Brutus. Otto’s lucky you love him so much.”
“That wasn’t the most dangerous thing I did. Going to Tiberius was.”
“I don’t understand why you thought Tiberius might kill you. He’s such a nice man.”
“Rome has decided Christians should die because we won’t worship the old Roman gods or the dead emperors it claims are gods or the genius of the emperor before he dies. When Tiberius was governor of Germania Superior, he hunted Christians because he thought we were enemies of Rome. We’re not, but if I love God, how could I ever betray Him by pretending the other gods are real and offering sacrifices to them? One thing He forbids is having any other God but Him. But why would I ever want to trade the God who made everything for a story made up by men?”
“He hunted Christians?” She drew a breath and blew it out. “But he do
esn’t want to kill you now. Maybe the rest of the Romans will change, too.”
Galen shrugged. “Maybe, but even if they don’t, it’s better to know Jesus and risk dying that to never know Him.”
Adela frowned. “I would die for someone in my family or someone I loved, but not for a god. Death is forever.”
“It doesn’t have to be. Jesus had a good friend named Lazarus who died. Four days later, he raised his friend from the dead.”
Adela’s eyebrows shot up. “Jesus brought a dead man back to life?”
“Yes. Just before He did that, He made a promise to His friend’s sister. ‘Whoever believes in Me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in Me shall never die.’ He asked if she believed that, and she said, ‘Yes, Lord; I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, who is coming into the world.’”
Adela’s head tipped. “He actually brought a dead man back to life?”
“Yes, and a girl of twelve and the only son of a widow. That’s three we know of, and there were probably more that weren’t written down. And then He raised Himself after His crucifixion. The Latin for that is resurrectio, rising again.”
She bit her lip and dropped her head. When she raised it, the corners of her mouth rose. “Only a real god could do that.”
“That’s right.”
Silence hung between them as she stirred the coals. Then her gaze lifted from the fire and locked on his eyes.
“If I believed in your god, would he talk to me like he does to you?”
“Yes. That’s the best part of following the Way. I’m never alone, and I’m never lost. The answer to a prayer doesn’t always come right away, but it always comes. And sometimes the answer is so much better than what I wanted when I asked. When someone loves you, they always want what’s best for you, even when what’s best seems hard at the moment.”
The fire snapped, and an ember jumped out of the fire pit. Adela slipped her stick under it and flipped it back into the flames.
“For him to listen and answer, do I have to be good, like you?”
“I’m not that good. The best parts of me come from loving and following Him. He’s forgiven me, and He’s told me I must forgive others if I follow Him. That’s not always easy, but when I try, He helps me. He knows every thought from the softest whisper to the loudest shout to the voice that’s only inside my head. And no matter what, He loves me as His child.”
“Like Mother did.”
“Yes, and so far beyond a parent’s love, we can’t even imagine it. Whenever we tell Him the bad things we’ve done and the ones we’ve wanted to do but didn’t and ask Him to forgive us, He does. That’s called confessing, and when we do, He wipes all those sins away, as if they’d never happened.”
Adela poked at the coals with her stick, and the soft crackles of the fire broke the silence. Her mouth curved into a deep frown. “You have to forgive others? What if someone did something horrible to you? Something they deserved to die for. Something that changed your life forever.”
Galen drew a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “Someone did. When I was ten, Father and Mother went to our market town. I wanted to go, too, because I thought Otto might be there, but Father told me to stay and help Val in the garden. I was so mad at him that I didn’t even tell him goodbye.” He stroked his scar. “My last words to him were words of anger.”
His lips tightened. “Some men from across the frontier raided the village that day. They killed both my parents.
“Val was sixteen, but Rhoda was only six―too little to help with much. With just me and Val, it was a struggle to do everything on the farm. Otto’s father brought us meat sometimes, and Val made a little money as a physician because Father had been training her. But it wasn’t until I was thirteen, when Dec came back and married Val, that things got easier. He brought the mares that started our herd. I’d wanted to be a physician, like Father, but that ended with his death, so I’m a horse trader and farmer instead.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve struggled with forgiving the men who murdered my parents. I hated them with every fiber of my being when it happened. I can’t say I’ve totally forgiven them now, and I’ll never forget, but God has taken the hatred and anger that was eating me up. And when the old feelings flare, I ask Him to help me forgive again. He always does.
“So when I say we have to forgive, what I really mean is we have to try. He understands when it’s hard. I’m still His child, and children sometimes take a long time before they do things right.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “I can tell you one thing. Something changes inside me when I try to set aside that anger and forgive. I can find peace with what’s happened, and losing my parents hurts less. That might not make sense to you, but it’s true.”
Adela had been staring at him as he spoke. Her gaze dropped to the fire, and she resumed stirring the coals.
Galen closed his eyes. God, please let my words reach her.
“Galen.”
His eyes popped open.
“If I wanted to be a child of God, what would I do?”
“Believe Jesus died to save you, confess your sins, and ask forgiveness. Then thank God for making you His child.”
“If I confess, can I tell only God? I don’t have to say it aloud, do I?”
“Of course not. Only God needs to know your heart. When you’re through, tell Him you believe Jesus paid for your sins and thank Him for forgiving everything. Tell Him you want to follow Jesus and ask Him to accept you as His own child forever.”
Adela closed her eyes, and the first tear escaped. Her chin quivered until she pressed her palm against it.
She rested her other hand on her belly and began to rock. First a trickle, then a rivulet, and finally a torrent of teardrops washed over her cheeks. Then, as the tears slowed, a peaceful smile appeared. As her head tipped back, the smile broadened until she was beaming. Her eyes popped open.
“Oh, Galen!” Her gaze locked with his as she swept the old tears from her cheeks. “I understand now. When I was little, whenever I felt bad, all it took was Mother’s arms around me to make it better. She’d whisper in my ear how much she loved me, and I’d feel warm inside. But this…it was like all the love in the world wrapped around me, and He whispered, ‘I love you, My child. Come and find peace in Me.’ And then the brightness faded, but I still feel Him with me.”
Galen’s smile matched hers as he rose from the stump. “I know exactly what you mean. He’ll always be there, and you’ll always be His child, just like me. You and I are more than friends now. As children of God, we’re brother and sister in Christ. We will be forever.”
She rushed past the fire and threw her arms around him. He closed his eyes as he encircled her in his arms. “God loves you, Adela.” And so do I.
As she rested her cheek on his shoulder, her lips brushed his ear. “Thank you for telling me…and for everything.” Her whisper triggered his silent shout of joy.
Their breathing synchronized. Could her desires for the future blend with his as well?
God, thank you for making her my sister. Now, please make her want to be my wife.
Too soon, her arms relaxed and she stepped back.
“Oh, Galen. I feel so…I don’t know how to describe it.”
He pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “You don’t have to. I know.”
A beaming smile lit her eyes. “Does Otto know how wonderful this feels?”
He froze his smile. “No. He hasn’t wanted to listen yet.”
“Somehow, you have to tell him. I want to share this with him, too.”
He nodded, even though he’d already tried many times.
She took his hand and swung their arms. “I think I’ll go to bed now. I feel so at peace…like you.” She held his hand as she took a step, then let it slip from her grasp.
“Rest in peace, Adela.”
“Oh, I will. Li
ke I never have before. Good night.”
She entered her tent, and he heard the cot creak as she lay down.
The deepest sigh escaped him. Adela had just become everything he wanted in a wife, but would he ever be what she wanted? He wasn’t the son of a chieftain like Otto, he was a Roman, which her father despised, and he was short. Well, maybe the last wouldn’t matter that much to her. It was the heart, not the height, that mattered.
He picked up her stick and moved a half-burned log over the glowing coals. Some wood smoldered a long time before catching fire.
Until the day she announced her betrothal to another, God might still give him the way to win her heart.
Tiberius lay on his cot, but his heart raced as if he’d just run a mile in battle armor. What had started as a quiet conversation between Galen and Adela had turned into a torrent of words and surging emotions that threatened to drown him.
He’d hated the Christians all his life. They were troublemakers and rebels, threatening the Empire with their refusals to yield to the simple requirement of a meaningless sacrifice.
Their claim that their god was somehow special, the only real god in a multitude of false ones, was absurd. He’d found that so easy to reject as a foolish delusion that needed to be purged from the Empire.
And then his own son had turned traitor and become one. For eight years, that decision had haunted him. How could a brilliant man like Decimus be so deceived?
But tonight, in the quiet darkness, he’d heard another young man whom he’d grown to respect explain it.
And it almost made sense.
But what sounded logical wasn’t always true. A gifted orator could twist words enough to make the grossest falsehood sound like the noblest truth.
But that wasn’t what Galen had done. He was no philosopher or politician playing with words. In Ticinum, Galen had claimed it was events, not words, that proved the truth of something. He’d willingly risked his own death at Tiberius’s hands to rescue his friend, and he claimed it was because his god had done far more to save him.
To hear him tell Adela about being a child of the Christian god―that was beyond what was believable. And yet…