9

 

Anna woke while it was still dark. She stretched, stoked the fire, dressed, and placed the pheasant on the spit over the fireplace to cook. She was grateful for a few moments to herself before the children woke.

Her husband wasn’t home yet, hadn’t arrived in the middle of the night like she’d hoped, but now she realized how foolish it had been to expect that. If the meetings with Brother Paul’s father lasted late, it was more likely for the men to start out at dawn then to try to traipse the forest at night. It was a three hour trek in good weather. With the snow, it might take more.

He would surely be home by noonday. They could read the Scriptures hanging on the tree before Christmas Supper. The only things he would miss were the morning preparations and breakfast, maybe the noon meal.

They still could have a great Christmas together.

She promised the best Christmas ever. It would be hard to have a better one than when John proposed marriage, but when she told him about the child growing inside her, that would make it almost perfect.

This time she would give him another son.

That first Christmas beside the Lehigh River was so special. But that was before Noah had died. Anna wished she had the courage and faith she did then, when she wanted to spend her life with a man who would risk everything to serve God. It had been the promise John had kept. But she hadn’t been as faithful.

The rooster crowed as the dawn peeked through the window.

Lisel jumped out of bed first. “It’s Christmas. It’s Christmas.” She shook Belinda and Katrina.

Neither of them seemed vexed for being awakened so brusquely.

Katrina wiped her eyes.

“Can we play with the Putz first, Mama?” Lisel asked. “Can we?”

Anna took a deep breath in through her nose and let it out through her mouth. She wouldn’t let on that she was worried. John would be home by noon, and the girls would never know the danger he faced—or that this Christmas was different than any other.

She tied on her apron. “Morning chores and breakfast, first. And all of you get dressed this instant.”

The girls finished their chores faster than they normally did. Even Lisel didn’t dawdle. By the time Anna finished cooking bacon and eggs, the girls had set the table.

“Mama,” Belinda said as they sat on the benches. “Where’s Papa? He said he’d be home by Christmas.”

“He promised.” Lisel’s lower lip drooped.

“He’ll be here,” Anna said, working to exude a confidence she didn’t feel. “It takes time, and he probably waited until this morning to start. I’m sure he’ll be home soon.”

That seemed to satisfy the girls. They held hands, and Anna offered the blessing. Before she could say amen, Belinda interrupted. “Lord, protect Papa and bring him home safe.”

“And help Mama to stop worrying,” Lisel prayed. “Amen.”

Anna cleared her throat. “Amen.”

 

****

 

It was almost noon before Swantaney and his tribal leaders showed up. John tried to figure out what the chief’s answer would be by the look on his face. But it did no good. The man was as stoic as his son.

Paul was easier to decipher, especially after the conversation last night, and the meeting with the elders early this morning. Luke agreed with Paul, and despite John’s reluctance, the council believed Paul was hearing from God, and that if the chief required him to return to the tribe, they would support whatever he choose to do, provided he followed guidelines they laid out and kept in contact with the Moravian council in Schoenbrunn.

Paul’s squared shoulders and jutted chin showed he’d made his decision.

If there was a way to change this, John would do it. But sometimes, one couldn’t protect the people one cared about. Sometimes one had to leave them in God’s hands. All he could do was pray and hope the chief didn’t force the issue.

Brother Luke greeted Chief Swantaney.

“I have a decree to make.” Swantaney strode to Paul.

The warriors around him gripped their spears with a firmness that had been lacking yesterday. Not a good sign.

Not at all.

The chief glared into his eyes. “Yaweha, you will return home where you belong, and you will forget about this white man’s religion. You are Lenape, the son of a chief. It’s time you act like it.”

“Father.” Paul’s posture straightened, until it looked as if he’d added a couple of inches to his height. “I, too, have made a decision.”

The chief crossed his arms. “Go ahead.”

“I will return to the tribe.”

A low murmur rushed through the crowd.

“Silence.” Chief Swantaney lifted his hand.

The noise stopped.

“It is good, my son. You have made the right choice.”

Paul’s jaw twitched. “You have only heard part of it.”

Chief Swantaney backed up two steps. Sweat beaded his forehead. “Tell me the rest. Now!”

“I meant what I said.”

John glanced at the warriors behind the chief, the ones gripping their spears.

“I shall return, and I shall become the next chief.” Paul cleared his throat. “But no matter where I am, whether in the village of the Moravians, or in the Lenape tribe, I serve only one God, the God of the Christians.”

The chief’s Adam’s apple bulged. Two warriors took a couple of steps closer and stood on either side of the chief. They gripped their spears with both hands.

John shifted his weight as the muscles in his chest tightened. If they made a move, he’d defend his friend no matter what the cost. For now, all he could do was watch.

“Father, I will not fight you or your men.” Paul positioned into a wide stance and held his hands out with his palms open. “If you wish to have me killed, I will make it easy for your braves. I will not resist.”

Heat traveled up John’s back. For a cold day, he felt unusually warm.

“But if you allow me to return to the tribe, I will share my new faith with the other braves. I will convert as many as I can, and I will bring my Bible with me, God’s Word written in the Lenape tongue that the Moravians have taught me to read. Those are my conditions.”

Nobody said anything.

Paul crossed his arms as if nothing more needed to be said.

Chief Swantaney’s face turned red. “I am the chief and your father. You dare tell me your conditions.”

“And I am a grown man, the son of a chief, and a Lenape warrior.” Paul stepped towards his father and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I will not denounce my God, but I’m still your son.”

The other warriors readied their weapons.

The Moravian men moved back, respecting Paul’s decision to offer no resistance.

John couldn’t bring himself to do so and took a couple of steps forward until he stood beside Paul. He couldn’t stand by and not do anything.

The braves’ glances shifted from Chief Swantaney to Paul, and then back to the chief.

A chill filled the air as a gust of wind blew through. Snowflakes fell from the sky. Everybody waited.

Chief Swantaney spoke. “My son, you have given me your conditions. Here are mine.” Then he announced what he required Paul to do to return to the tribe without being killed.