A Voice in the Wind by Francine Rivers
“What symbol?”
“The symbol of Tiwaz, the god of the forests. The head of a goat.” He knelt down before her. “And then the image of Artemis begins to burn. The heat is so intense I move back from it. The walls are crumbling, the temple falling in on itself until there’s nothing left but a few stones.”
Hadassah touched his hand. “Go on.”
“Everything is black again. I walk on, searching for what seems forever, and then I see a sculptor. And before him is his work, a statue of me. It’s one like those they sell in the shops around the arena, only this one is so real it seems to breathe. The man takes a hammer and I know what he’s going to do. I cry out for him not to do it, but he strikes the image once and it shatters into a million pieces.”
Shaking, Atretes rose. “I feel pain, pain like I’ve never felt before. I can’t move. Around me I see the forest of my homeland and I’m sinking into the bog. Everyone is standing around me, my father, my mother, my wife, friends long dead. I cry out, but they all just stare at me as I’m being sucked down. The bog presses around me like the blackness. And then a man is there, holding out both hands to me. His palms are bleeding.”
Hadassah watched Atretes sink wearily down against the stone wall on the other side of the cell. “Do you take his hand?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he said bleakly. “I can’t remember.”
“You awaken?”
“No.” He breathed in slowly, struggling to keep his voice steady. “Not yet.” He shut his eyes and swallowed convulsively. “I hear a baby crying. He’s lying naked on the rocks by the sea. I see a wave coming in from the sea and know it’ll sweep him away. I try to get to him, but the wave goes over him. Then I awaken.”
Hadassah closed her eyes.
Atretes leaned his head back. “So tell me. What does it all mean?”
Hadassah prayed the Lord would give her wisdom. She sat for a long time, her head bowed. Then she raised her head again. “I’m not a seer,” she said again. “Only God can interpret dreams. But I do know certain things to be true, Atretes.”
“What things?”
“Artemis is a stone idol and nothing more. She has no power over you but what you give her. Your soul knows that. Perhaps that’s why her image burns and her temple crumbles.” She frowned slightly. “Perhaps it means more. I don’t know.”
“And the man?”
“That’s very clear to me. The man is Jesus. I told you how he died, nailed to a cross, and how he arose again. He’s reaching out to you with both hands. Take hold and hang on. Your salvation is at hand.” She hesitated. “And the child . . .”
“I know about the child.” Atretes’ face tautened with barely controlled emotion. “He’s my son. I thought about what you said to me that night you came to the hills. I sent word I wanted the child when it was born.”
Seeing Hadassah’s startled look, Atretes stood abruptly and paced restlessly. “At first, it was to hurt Julia, to take her child from her. Then I truly wanted him. I decided I’d take the child and return to Germania. I waited, and then word came. The child was stillborn.”
Atretes gave a broken laugh filled with bitterness. “But she lied. The child wasn’t stillborn. She ordered it left on the rocks to die.” His voice choked with tears, and he raked his fingers through his hair. “I told you if Julia laid him at my feet, I’d turn and walk away. And that’s exactly what she did, isn’t it? Placed him on the rocks and walked away. I hated her. I hated myself. God have mercy on me, you said. God have mercy.”
Hadassah rose and went to him. “Your son is alive.”
He stiffened and looked down at her.
She put her hand on his arm. “I didn’t know you’d sent word you wanted him, Atretes. Had I known, I would have brought him directly to you. Please forgive me for the pain I’ve caused you.” Her hand fell limply to her side.
He took her arm. “You said he’s alive? Where is he?”
She prayed God would make right what she had done. “I took your son to the apostle John and he placed him in the arms of Rizpah, a young widow who’d lost her child. She loved him the moment she looked upon his face.”
His hand loosened and fell away from her. “My son is alive,” he said in wonder, and the burden of pain and guilt fell away from him. He closed his eyes in relief. “My son is alive.” His back against the stone wall, he slid down it, his knees weakened by what she told him. “My son is alive,” he said in a choked voice.
“God is merciful,” she said softly and lightly touched his hair.
The light caress reminded Atretes of his mother. He took Hadassah’s hand and held it against his cheek. Looking up at her, he saw again the bruises that marked her kind face, the thinness of her body beneath the ragged, dirty tunic. She had saved his son. How could he walk away and let her die?
He stood, filled with purpose. “I’ll go to Sertes,” he said.
“No,” she said.
“Yes,” he countered, determined. Though he’d never fought lions and knew there was little chance he would survive, he had to try. “A word in the right ear, and I’d be in the arena as your champion.”
“I have a champion already, Atretes. The battle is over. He’s already won.” She held his hand firmly between her own. “Don’t you see? If you went back into the arena now, you’d die without ever fully knowing the Lord.”
“But what of you?” Tomorrow she would face the lions.
“God’s hand is in this, Atretes. His will be done.”
“You’ll die.”
“‘Though He slay me, yet will I trust Him,’” she said. She smiled up at him. “Whatever happens is to his good purpose and for his glory. I’m not afraid.”
Atretes searched her face for a long moment and then nodded, struggling against the emotions raging within him. “It will be as you say.”
“It will be as the Lord wills.”
“I will never forget you.”
“Nor I you,” she said. She told him where to find the apostle John, then laid her hand on his arm and looked at him, peace in her eyes. “Now, go from this place of death and don’t look back.”
She went out into the dark corridor and called to the guard.
Atretes stood with the torch as the guard came and unbolted the cell door. As he opened it, Hadassah turned and looked up at Atretes, and her eyes shone with warmth. “May the Lord bless you and keep you, the Lord make his face shine upon you and be gracious to you. May the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace,” she said with a gentle smile. Turning away, she entered the cell. A soft murmuring of voices greeted her, and the door was closed with a hard thud of finality.
Chapter 37
Hadassah picked her way carefully among the other prisoners and sat again beside the little girl and her mother. Raising her knees, she rested her forehead upon them. She thought of Atretes, a prisoner of bitterness and hatred, and prayed for him. She prayed that Julia would turn away from the path of destruction she had chosen. She thanked God for Decimus, for his entry into God’s kingdom, and she prayed that Phoebe would find her way to the Lord, too. She prayed that God would open a way for Prometheus’ escape. She prayed that God would show mercy upon Primus and Calabah. Through the rest of that night, she prayed.
And, finally, Hadassah allowed herself to think of Marcus. Her heart cried out in pain as hot tears came. “Oh, Lord, you know the desires of my heart. You know what I want for him. I humbly beseech you, Lord, open his eyes. Open his eyes that he might see the truth. Call his name out loud, Lord, and let it be written in the Book of Life.”
The torch sputtered and someone cried out. “I’m afraid,” a woman said, and a man answered, “The Lord has forsaken us.”
“No,” Hadassah said gently. “The Lord has not forsaken us. Never doubt in the darkness what God has given us in the light. The Lord is with us. He is here now. He will never leave us.”
She began to sing softly and others joined in. After a moment, she bowed her head
When morning came, the door opened and the young guard who had come with Atretes entered.
“Listen to me,” he commanded, staring straight at her. “You will die today. Listen to what I tell you that it may go quickly. Lions that have been starved aren’t necessarily vicious. They’re weak and easily frightened, especially when the crowd starts yelling. You’ll be strange prey to them. Now, do this. Stand quiet. Spread out. Move your hands and bodies slowly so the lions will know you’re alive and no threat to them. If you do this, they’ll charge. The end will come swiftly that way.”
He fell silent for a moment, still looking at Hadassah. “They’re coming for you.”
She rose. “May the Lord bless you for your kindness.”
He turned away. Everyone rose and began to sing praises to the Lord until the cell filled with the sound. Other guards came. They shouted and shoved the prisoners along the darkened corridor and up the narrow stairway and finally to the gates. Hadassah could hear a heavy sound like rolling thunder from outside. Sunlight reflected off the raked sand, blinding her.
Metal screeched against metal as the gates were opened. “Move out into the middle!” the guards shouted again, pushing at them. “Hurry up! Get moving!” A whip cracked, and someone gave a cry of pain and stumbled against Hadassah.
She took hold of the man’s arm and helped him walk to the gate. Then she smiled at him, let him go, and walked out onto the sand. The others followed.
After days of darkness, the sunlight made her gasp. She put her hand up to shield her eyes. Jeers and insults rained down on her and the others. “Call on your god to save you!” someone shouted, and mocking laughter resounded.
“They look too thin to tempt a lion!” another called out, and rotten fruit and vegetables and picked bones were flung down at them. “Send in the lions! Send in the lions!”
Hadassah looked up at the mass of people, drunk on cruelty, screaming for blood, her blood. “God have mercy on them,” she whispered, her eyes welling with tears.
At the roar of lions, a familiar coldness coiled in Hadassah’s stomach. Her throat closed and her mouth went dry. Her old enemy closed in on her, but she knew how to fight now. Standing firm, she called upon the Lord.
“Oh, Jesus, be with me now. Stand by me and give me your strength that I might glorify you,” she prayed. The calmness came upon her again, washing away the fear and filling her with joy that she would suffer for the Lord.
More gates were opened and the crowd cheered wildly as a dozen lions were driven into the arena. Terrified by the screaming mob, the beasts hugged the walls, paying no attention to the group of ragged prisoners standing in the middle of the arena.
“Mama, I’m afraid,” a child whimpered.
“Remember the Lord,” her mother answered.
“Yes,” Hadassah said, smiling. “Remember the Lord.” She separated herself from the group, walked calmly toward the center of the arena, and began to sing praises to God.
The mad screaming of the crowd rose. Slaves jabbed dull spears at the beasts who still hugged the rim of the arena, driving them away from the walls. They turned toward the center nervously. One lioness turned toward Hadassah and crouched low, advancing cautiously. Still singing, Hadassah lifted her arms from her sides and spread them slowly. Seeing she was alive and no threat, the beast charged, and the mob screamed wildly. The animal covered the distance with astonishing speed and leapt, claws spread, jaws open.
Julia laughed and tossed grapes at Marcus. “You’re a terrible tease, Marcus,” she said, reclining comfortably as he laughed.
“Would I turn down such a heart-wrenching plea from my beloved little sister?” he said, leaning back comfortably, his foot resting on a small stool. “You sounded desperate for my company.”
“Who else ever made me laugh as you do?” she said and snapped her fingers. “Pay attention, girl,” she said, and her new maid moved the large fan again. Marcus smiled faintly, his gaze flickering briefly over the girl’s lithe body. “A new acquisition?”
“I’m glad to see you’re your old self again,” Julia said, amused. “She’s pretty, isn’t she? Much prettier than Hadassah,” she said, watching him surreptitiously.
Marcus gave a cool laugh and turned his attention to the gladiators as they paraded before the spectators. He didn’t want to think about Hadassah today. He had come to the games to forget. The bloodletting would be a cathartic release for his pent-up frustration. “Capito and Secundus fight today,” he said, aware Julia was watching him. She was pensive and he wondered why.
“So I read. Who will win, do you think?”
“Secundus.”
“Oh, but he’s so boring. He plods around the arena like a tired old bull.”
“His plodding is what keeps him alive,” Marcus said. “He waits for his opportunity and strikes.” The pompa completed, the chariots sped from the arena. The trumpets blared loudly, announcing the beginning of the games. The noise of the crowd rolled and swelled, restless and hungry. Marcus stood.
Julia sat up. “Where are you going?”
“To buy some wine.” He glanced up at the cloudless sky. “It’s getting hot already. The awnings aren’t going to do much good.”
“I have wine, plenty of it, the best quality. Don’t leave. The games are beginning.”
“There’s nothing of interest at the beginning. Just some criminals being fed to the lions. There’s plenty of time before the real blood matches begin.”
Julia reached out. “Sit down, Marcus. We’ve hardly talked at all. Primus can go for whatever we need, can’t you, Primus?”
“Of course, my dear. Whatever your heart desires.”
“Sit here, Marcus,” Julia said, patting the seat closest to her. “Please. It’s been so long since we attended the games together. It was never as much fun as when I attended with you. You’ve always had an eye for what was coming. You always pointed things out to me that escaped my attention.”
Marcus sat down beside her. He felt her tension. “What’s wrong, Julia?”
“Nothing’s wrong, except that I want things to be the way they used to be between us. I want to go back to the way things were in Rome, before I married Claudius, before anyone came between us. Do you remember the first time you brought me to the games, Marcus? I was so excited. I was such a child. You laughed at me because I was squeamish.” She smiled at the memory.
“You got over it quickly enough,” he said with a rueful grin.
“Yes, and you were proud of me. You said I was a true Roman. Do you remember?”
“I remember.”
“Things will be the way they were, Marcus. I promise you. After today, we’ll forget everything that’s happened between then and now. We’ll forget everyone who’s hurt us.”
Frowning slightly, Marcus touched her cheek. He thought of Caius and Atretes. She never spoke of either, but he knew both had left scars, deep scars that she kept hidden even from him.
“Do you love me, Marcus?” she asked, her eyes intent.
“Of course, I love you.”
But not the way he once had, she knew. His expression became guarded, pained. All that would change soon. Today would wipe away the past and avenge his wounds—and hers. “You were always the one person I could count on, Marcus,” she said and took his hand. “You were the one person I knew would always love me no matter what I did. And then others got in the way and made things change. We let them get in the way. We shouldn’t have done that.”
“I never stopped loving you, Julia.”
“Perhaps you didn’t stop, but things changed between us. People made them change. I’d see the way you looked at me sometimes, as though you didn’t know me anymore. But you do know me, Marcus. You know me as well as you know yourself. We’re so much alike, peas from the same pod. Only you’ve forgotten.”
Her hand was cold and strong. “What’s wrong, Jul
“Nothing’s wrong,” she said. “Everything is right. Or will be. I’ve made sure.”
“Of what?”
“I have a surprise for you, Marcus.”
“What surprise?”
She laughed. “Oh, no. I’m not going to tell you. You’ll just have to wait and see. Won’t he, Calabah?”
Calabah smiled faintly, her eyes cold and black. “The games have begun, Julia.”
“Oh, yes,” she said eagerly, her hand tightening on his even more. “Oh, yes, they have. Let’s watch, Marcus. You’ll see what I’ve done for you.”
A chill of premonition swept through him. “What have you done?” he asked, willing his voice to be calm and steady.
“Look!” she said, extending her right arm, pointing. “The gates are opening. Do you see them? Foul stinking wretches. They deserve death. Everyone of them. Look! Do you see? Christians!”
Heart pounding, Marcus saw the prisoners stumble out into the sunlight.
Oh, gods. . . .
Even at this distance, he recognized Hadassah. His heart stopped. “No!” he said, his voice a hoarse whisper, trying to deny what his eyes could see.
“Yes! Hadassah,” Julia said and saw how white his face was. “She’s getting what she deserves.”
He stared as Hadassah led the group out, walking calmly. “What have you done, Julia?”
“I heard what she said to you! I heard her throw your love back in your face. She preferred her god over you, and you said her god could have her. Well, now he shall.”
“You arranged this?” His voice was filled with desperation and loathing. He tore his hand from her, wanting to strike her. “You did this to her?”
“She did it to herself. I took her to Vitellius’ feast.”
“You know Vitellius hates Jews!”
“Yes, he hates them, and with good reason. They’re the most miserable race on the face of the earth! Full of pride. Guilty of rebellion from the womb. She wouldn’t recant. I knew she wouldn’t. I knew it! She just stood there, looking at me with those pathetic, soulful eyes, as though she pitied me.”