Voice in the Wind: Fortune Telling

A Voice in the Wind, pp. 25-34

It’s chapter two, and we’re switching gears—to Germania. Quick note for those not familiar with this book, it’s actually part of a trilogy. The first book, this one, deals with the stories of Hadassah, a young Christian girl from Galilee, and Atretes, a young warrior from a German tribe. The second book brings Hadassah’s story to a conclusion, and the third book follows up with Atretes, but in the first book their stories are intertwined—both in the book and in their actual lives.

Atretes belongs to the Chatti tribe. This chapter is set during the Batavi revolt, which google tells me took place in 69-70 A.D. According to google, the Batavi were a sub-tribe of the Chatti, but were able to convince other tribes to join them—including that of our fictional Atretes. After some initial successes, the revolt was quashed. In her telling, Rivers mentions the leadership of Julius Civilis, a Batavi prince who, google informs me, had served in the Roman army before masterminding a rebellion.

Rivers introduces us to Atretes, a young warrior whose father is a chief. He had married as a young teen, but lost his wife in childbirth. The stage is a battle, in which Atretes’ tribe attacks the Romans and then withdraws. Atretes fights well but his father, Hermun, is killed. Atretes knows he will likely be made chief in his place, but he’s worried–he’s not sure he’s ready, or that it’s what he wants. His mother speaks with him privately about this, soothing him in the wake of his father’s death and telling him of his exploits and how brave he is, and how ready.

The priests hold a ceremony, and they hand Atretes the golden horns, which had images engraved on them and presumably looked something like this. Atretes accepts and goes through the ceremony, which includes a blood sacrifice. Atretes’ first duty as chief is one he finds difficult—he must sentence his friend to death for cowardice. Wagast, it seems, dropped his shield and ran from the battle. He steels himself and carries the penalty out, but I have a feeling this will come back to haunt him.

Throughout this section, Rivers is very careful to hew to the writings of Tacitus and others. See this mention, for instance:

Only a week ago, the Chatti leader had thrown pieces of branch and bark from one of the sacred trees into a white cloth.

This method of divination is outlined by Tacitus as being common among the Germanic tribes. Similarly, after being sentenced for cowardice, Wagast is drowned in a bog—the Germanic practice of drowning those accused of cowardice in a bog is also mentioned by Tacitus. Rivers seems to think that the Chatti were a separate tribe from the Batavi, when in fact the Batavi was a subgroup of the Chatti, but it is nevertheless clear that this section was based on some detailed historical research.

And now on to the more interesting part. After telling Atretes that she had known of his earlier unspoken desire to leave the tribe and become “part of Macrobus retinue”—I tried looking this up but couldn’t find it—Atretes’ mother says the following:

“Atretes, you have another destiny. I read the signs at your birth. You will lead your people to freedom.”

“Or death,” he said grumpily.

“Many will die,” she said solemnly, “I among them.”

“Mother,” he said, but her hand tightened on his arm, silencing him.

“It will be so. I have seen it.” Her blue eyes became vague and disquieting. “Your name will become known in Rome. You will fight as no other man in the tribe of Chatti has done before you and you will triumph over every foe.” Her voice was strange and distant. “A storm is coming that will blow across the Empire and destroy it. It will come from the north and the east and west, and you will be part of it. And there is a woman, a woman with dark hair and dark eyes, a woman of strange ways whom you will love.” She fell silent, blinking as though coming out of a deep sleep.

Atretes’ heart beat faster. He had seen his mother like this only a few times before, and each time there was a coldness in the pit of his stomach. Had she been anyone else, Atretes would have discounted her words as those of a mother dreaming of greatness for her son. But he could not, for his mother was a respected seer and diviner, revered by some as a goddess.

In case it’s not already obvious, all of this will become true—though not exactly as—actually, we’re never told Atretes’ mother’s name. She is simply called “his mother.” That’s fitting, perhaps, because that is the only role she will play in this book. Still, the point is that the above prophesy will come true, though not exactly as either Atretes or his mother might think.

What’s odd about this prophesy is that Rivers earlier mentioned that the prophesies of Valeda, “the Bructeri seeress who sat hidden in her tower where no man could see her” were failing. Valeda had prophesied the success of a rebellion against Rome. According to my googling, some believe she actively incited the rebellion, because she was revered by as a goddess (and she did indeed live in a remote tower). Rivers describes her only as a “seeress,” but my googling suggests she was also a powerful political leader and power broker.

Evangelical Christians exist in a strange sort of tension with regards to foretelling the future. On the one hand, they frequently portray those who worship other gods as superstitious and wandering about in the dark—I’m thinking especially of the way evangelicals portray medicine men, or religious rituals that involve objects—and they have a serious distain for fortune tellers at fairs, etc., and the occult. On the other hand, evangelicals do believe in divine revelation. They believe it is possible for one to be given a word from God, and to foretell the future.

There’s more, too. Growing up in an evangelical home, I was taught that those who worship false gods are in many cases actually worshiping demons. For instance, I was taught that the angel that spoke to Mohammed was actually a demon. Demons aren’t all-powerful or all-knowing, but they do have some power and they do know some things. So in theory, a demon could speak to a person—a priestess, say—and tell them things. Those things might be partly false, but they might also be partly true.

More to the point, this narrative where a follower of a non-Christian religion makes an accurate prophecy to or about an individual who is or will later become Christian—a prophesy they may not understand or that they may interpret as having a different meaning than it ultimately does—is a common trope in Christian fiction.

I would dissect Atretes mother’s prophesy, but I don’t want to completely ruin the rest of the book for those who haven’t read it. Anyone interested in speculating?

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