Ted Dekker - Outlaw

Indeed, I had been drawn from American shores to this end. Of that I now had no doubt, not even a whisper of it.

“I give to you the son of the one taken by Wilam!” Sawim cried.

Dead silence. Wilam’s back was toward me, as was Kirutu’s, so I could not see their reactions. But the fact that Wilam didn’t protest was reaction enough for me. He was bound by their law and that law would now be exercised.

“By our law Wilam must take the child’s life, on the fire. In this way he will redeem himself for the grave error that he has made. Only in this way will he save himself from evil.”

The breeze lifted my hair, a warm caress of assurance. I was only a third of the way down the hill, but I did not break into a run.

“As is the law, Wilam will take the life of this child now,” Sawim said.

He stepped up to Wilam and held Stephen out. For a long beat Wilam made no move to take my son. But he would have no choice if he hoped to save his own life, much less his bid for the throne.

I knew what was going through his mind. Neither Stephen nor I could compare to his bid for power. He was destined to rule. In taking this white child’s life, he would retain his honor and his bid for power to save the Tulim from Kirutu’s rule.

He was likely thinking he would do what he must, and then, filled with rage, slaughter Kirutu before returning home to see his child grow in my womb while he ruled.

He didn’t know that I had miscarried. Kirutu could make the claim, but for now, only I truly knew. And the bid for power was now, not when they discovered that no child grew in my womb.

Wilam slowly held out his arms and Sawim placed my son in his hands. The shaman held up his hand and a runner broke from the thick swath of Warik warriors, carrying a burning torch.

I was now halfway to them and I still did not run. I was only playing my part in a grand stage play unfolding in this valley. My heart was breaking, but I felt it as if slightly apart from my body. Because I knew then that it was my costume, not the true me, who was feeling deep sorrow and pain.

My pain wasn’t necessarily bad or good. But in truth, I wasn’t my mind, you understand? I wasn’t my emotions or my body. These were only a part of my human experience confined to this life. This I had learned when Shaka had helped me see.

The runner handed the torch to Sawim, who held it high, then walked to the pyre and shoved the flame into the middle of it.

The wood caught immediately. They’d soaked it in resin.

Wilam held my son, stock-still, back still to me. Not a word came from the thousands gathered. They knew as well as he—this he must do to retain his honor.

“Cut the child’s throat and burn his body,” Sawim said.

Not until I reached them did the outer ring of warriors see me. They moved aside quickly, unsure of my presence, and I cut through them without a word, eyes fixed on Wilam as they parted. And then I was fifty paces from him.

Sixty from the blazing fire.

“Do what you must!” Sawim cried.

“No, Wilam.” I did not yell, but my voice might as well have been a slap to his ear.

He twisted his head, and I saw his face for the first time. My husband was terrified but forcing himself to show strength before his people. I saw it in his wide eyes and the slight draw of his lips.

“No,” I repeated, speaking directly to him. “You will not kill my son.”

Kirutu turned as well, and I could see the smug look of one who had achieved his goal. Had he known that I would come to save my child?

“A woman orders the prince?” Kirutu growled.

“I order no one,” I said, louder now, approaching still. “I only make clear what is already known.”

“A wam knows nothing of what is true,” Kirutu said.

The dark shaman Sawim scanned the hills, not with fear, but with interest. Looking for something. For the one who would save me.

“I know that not even a prince may step beyond the law passed down from your ancestors,” I said.

“Leave us!” Wilam snapped. “You are my wife! You carry my child. You have lost your mind to come!”

I stopped three paces from him and eyed him with compassion.

“I do not carry your child, Wilam.” I spoke for the ears of Kirutu, Sawim, and Wilam alone.

Wilam blinked.

“I will never bear another child. I no longer offer any value to the prince of the great Impirum. I am no longer fit to be your wife. You must now throw me away, because Kirutu is right. I am mere wam.”

The fire roared; sweat beaded Wilam’s face. Though they could not know it, the Tegalo valley now lay on the fault line of a great shift.

“The Tulim will not respect any prince who clings to a wam merely for pleasure. You must throw me away,” I continued. “You will no longer have a wife with a son of another man’s seed. In doing this, you are not compelled to kill the child in your arms.”

I could see the truth of his predicament settle into his mind. He’d descended on the Tegalo valley to defend his honor and claim his right to rule. He was now faced with an impossible choice.

“Did I not warn you, Brother? To defend your honor, you must now kill them both. No wam may influence the great Tulim.”

I knew Wilam well enough to read the horror on his ever-sure face. So subtle on the surface, but beneath his skin he was screaming in pain.

Stephen’s small chest rose and fell as he dreamed in deep sleep, far away from the valley. I was his mother and for that I would die, but I was also the keeper of a greater truth, and for that I would offer him life.

I stepped closer and looked up at Wilam.

“There’s another way,” I whispered. Only he could hear. “If you fulfill your law you will be retain your honor, I understand. But you do not have to kill us.”

“You cannot know our law.”

And yet I did, at least that which Shaka had shared with me after my eyes had been opened.

“I’m of no value to you now. I cannot be your wife, only your servant. Offer me to Kirutu in exchange for my son.”

“There is no way for me to save this child,” he said. “It is our law.”

“Banish him,” I said. “Turn him out of the law, to be banished forever.”

Wilam’s eyes briefly narrowed. “He would die in the jungle.”

“Trust me, Wilam. Banish my son. Trade me to Kirutu for my son and banish my son from your law. He will be outlaw.”

“I don’t—”

“You can do this? By law?”

He hesitated. “Yes.”

“And you would retain your honor in the sight of all.”

He was at a standstill. He knew as well as I that trading me to Kirutu would end very badly for me. I saw his eyes soften.

“You love this child as we love our own.”

“Yes,” I said.

“He will only die in the jungle.”

“Trust me,” I whispered, laying my hand on his arm. “Do this one last thing for the woman you once saved. Save my son. Give me to Kirutu.”

“He will crush you in ways beyond your understanding.”

“That is my burden to bear, not yours. You will save my son. I beg you. Do it now. Call it out for all to hear.”

He searched my face, swallowing once deeply.

“Now,” I said.

Wilam finally dipped his head so that only I could see, then turned with one hand raised high, cradling Stephen in his other arm.

“This woman is not my wife.” His voice rang out for all to hear. “Her son is not my offspring. As is permitted, I offer her to you, my brother, in exchange for the child.”

Kirutu looked momentarily stunned.

“She was yours to find.” Wilam’s voice, though softer now, carried. “Yours to bring. And I now return her to you in exchange for this child.”

“The child cannot live among us!”