The First Protector ec-2 Read online

  "I am interested in the beliefs of others," he said, "and especially those who fear the pains of dying, as all of you do, but not death itself because they believe it to be but a curtain through which they will pass to a better life. I am not Christian and believe nothing. But I am interested in hearing the reason why so many of you believe in such a strange and illogical thing. Can you explain the thinking and proofs on which it is based?"

  Klum'bgaa shook his head. "My master can introduce you to men more learned than I who will explain or debate these matters with you. He might even arrange an audience with Constantine, who is a firm and just man who has a mind, my master says, that has no closed doors. It is expected, or perhaps it is only a hope, that he will become the first Christian Emperor. But I myself can tell you only of stories and sacred writings that have been handed down to us for three centuries, and others that come from even further in the past. But I have no proof of their truth, only a strong belief that they are true.

  "But three centuries ago," he went on, "there was only one Christian and many who became merely interested. Now there are many Christians. Perhaps in time you will become one of them."

  In the light of the newly lit torch Ma'el's expression was as unreadable as ever. He said, "As a foreteller of the future I cannot see such an extraordinary event ever taking place where one of ray people is concerned. This part of the tunnel is familiar to me. Please turn into the opening on the right."

  "Please reconsider, Master," said Klum'bgaa in a worried voice. 'That is a steeply descending tunnel which has not been used in living memory and perhaps for centuries. It has sustained many rock falls, there are noxious odors and the water seepage is…"

  "There is no danger," Ma'el broke in gently, making a complicated, fluid gesture with one hand. "The noxious vapors are gone and the sound of dripping water is silent. You may pass the torch to Declan and await our return while we investigate…"

  "I am not afraid!" the Nubian broke in. "At least not for myself. I was charged to guide you in safety, but if you insist on taking risks then I must take them also."

  Ma'el inclined his head and a moment later they were following Klum'bgaa into the descending tunnel.

  Declan had never been happy in confined spaces and the time that followed was a waking nightmare for him. Not only was he choked and blinded by the smoke from the torch, the tunnel floor was covered by fallen rock so deep in places that they were forced to scramble over it on hands and knees. The smoke could not disguise the stale smell of the air around them and the torch flame was reflected in glistening red patches of wetness from the uneven ceiling. He thought of turning back, but the second thought of what Sinead, who was less than two paces ahead of him, would say about that made him go on.

  She was climbing over a loose pile of rocks and had put up a hand to the ceiling to steady herself when she made a sudden, surprised sound.

  "What's wrong?" said Declan. "Did you cut yourself?"

  "No," she replied in a perplexed voice. "This area of rock above me. It's shining and looks wet but it is completely dry to the touch. The whole ceiling ahead seems to be the same. Feel it for yourself as you move past."

  Declan did so and found that the surface was dry, hard, smooth and with no flaking or traces of rock dust around it. Suddenly a childhood memory, one of the few pleasant ones, came back to him.

  "I remember being shown a very small rock like this," he said excitedly, "by a visitor to my father. He told me it was a piece of melted stone from a volcano. But there are no volcanoes under Rome…"

  He broke off because suddenly the tunnel had opened into a chamber that was just high enough for them to stand upright and so large that the torchlight did not reach to its farther walls. The floor was clear of rubble and the ceiling reflected back the torchlight as if from the black ripples on a pool that had been frozen into immobility. The quiet voice of Ma'el seemed to fill the chamber.

  "Stay together and move around the walls until you have located all of the torch supports," he said. "Sinead, Declan, place one of the spare torches in position after Klum'bgaa lights them. Look around for signs of cracking or subsidence in the ceiling or walls of the main chamber and those opening off it, and if you find any report them to me at once."

  With torches burning at intervals around its walls and reflecting bright, uneven highlights from the rippled ceiling, the size of the chamber became clearly apparent as did the fact that there was no supporting structure other than at its bordering walls. No wonder, Declan thought, Ma'el wanted them to look for evidence of a ceiling collapse.

  There were a few long and very low tables in the middle of the room with even lower stools grouped around them, and small platters and cups crudely fashioned from clay and wooden utensils to the same diminutive scale were scattered across the top surfaces. Some of them still contained scraps of food that had been rendered rock hard by the passage of time. Scattered across the tables and on the floor around them were small blocks of wood in the shapes of cubes, triangles, rectangles, and long pegs, with a few pieces that had been roughly carved into human shape. When Sinead lifted one of them, a piece of cloth encircling its waist fell away in scraps of dusty fiber.

  "Master, I see no signs of rock falls here," she said, waving her free hand around her. "But this furniture: a few pieces are adult-sized, and all these small tables and stools and the childrens' playthings scattered about. What kind of catacomb was this?"

  Before Ma'el could answer her, a low, moaning cry came from one of the side chambers. Quickly they followed the sound to its source. The voice was barely recognisable as that of Klum'bgaa. He was standing before a wall painting that was partially hidden by his body, but as soon as they entered he dropped to his knees before Ma'el.

  "Master, Lord," he said, bowing his head almost to the ground, "or are you an angel? Should I have recognized you? I am but a sinner and unworthy of a visitation from on high, but you have only to command me and I shall…"

  "Please stand before me, Klum'bgaa," Ma'el broke in gently, "and do not distress yourself. I am not an angel and I am certainly not your Lord, nor are you mine to command."

  The Nubian climbed to his feet, doubt showing on every line of his dark face as he turned and moved his torch closer to light the picture that covered most of the wall behind him. Faded with age because it had been executed in charcoal and a few colored pigments, it showed upward of thirty very young children standing, sitting, or playing around a tall figure in a dark cloak, the cowl of which had fallen backward to reveal a shining, hairless head and a cast of features that were unmistakable. Sketched faintly in the background were a few adult women who appeared to be caring for the children. The artist had given the tall man a halo.

  "There are stories told of secret places like this," said Klum'bgaa, looking as if he wanted to go down on his knees again, "that date back to Nero's persecution of the Christians. Few remember the stories that were passed down to us, and nowadays fewer believe them, of a place cut out of the living rock by an angel sent by God. It was a sanctuary for little children whose parents were martyred in the arena. They were hidden here until they could be moved to foster homes in the city or country. But that…" he pointed unsteadily with the torch at the tall, cloaked figure, "… Master, that is you"

  They were all staring silently at Ma'el and waiting for a reply that did not come. Declan began a shiver that turned into an irritated shake of his shoulders, and spoke quickly so that he would not have time to think.

  "It is not him!" he said harshly to the Nubian. "Think, man, and stop trying to frighten us. The event shown in the picture happened three centuries ago. Ma'el is frail and bald and ancient in years, but he cannot possibly be as old as that. We are seeing a person skilled in the magical arts as is our master, one of his countrymen, no doubt, who was…"

  "Who was as kind and gentle as our master himself is," Sinead joined in. "Well do I know of his aversion to needless suffering and death, particularly where a helpless and deeply
troubled near-child like myself was concerned. It may well be that his people are also magicians and as kindly as he, but he is not your God."

  Glad of her support for reasons that he did not himself understand, Declan gave Sinead a grateful look and returned his attention to the old man. But Ma'el merely looked back at them for a moment, inclined his head and, as was his way when he did not wish to answer questions, ignored the subject.

  "This chamber remains structurally intact," he said, "and may be used for my present purpose. If you are willing, friend Klum'bgaa, there is an important task that you may be able to do for me. You will have to talk widely but with discretion among all those who know and trust you. I have an urgent need for young women to be enticed into coming here. Many young women."

  The Nubian looked as surprised as Declan was feeling, but it was clear that the other was still not sure who or what Ma'el was and he might be thinking that his faith was being tested.

  "It will be done, master," he replied without hesitation, "but how many young women and how much time can you give me?"

  "I can give you five, perhaps six weeks," Ma'el replied, "before I have to leave Rome. In the beginning I realize that it will be difficult, perhaps personally embarrassing for you, to convince the early ones to come. But with your perseverance, more and more of them will come until this place will be filled to capacity, after which there will be a gradual diminishing of numbers before my departure. Without telling them what it is, you must interest them in what I am doing while not making extravagant claims about me or what you think I will be doing for them. I am not starting a new religion, nor will I try to change or influence any beliefs they may already hold.

  "The females should be young, married, or of marriageable age," he went on, "and include as many non-Italian races as possible. I want representatives from all of the European races, those from as far south as Nubia and, if any are presently visiting the city, young women from the Orient.

  "Assure them that they need not fear for the welfare of their bodies or their souls," he continued. "They will not have to do anything but listen to me and perform simple, mental exercises while I perform a laying-on of hands. All they will be asked to do is to accept a gift from me which they and a few of their children, and a few of their childrens' children to the end of time, may be able to use to avoid future harm."

  Ma'el lowered his eyes to look at the floor, and for a long moment the silence was so complete that the sputtering of their torches seemed loud. Then he raised them again to look directly at Sinead.

  'This gift," he said quietly, "is also for you."

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Ma'el Report. Day 112,644…

  The project has had a measure of success but is a personal disappointment to me because of the continued lack of effect where the female Sinead is concerned. It is possible that there is a genetic defect, or that the emotional and physical trauma suffered in her early years has inhibited or destroyed the latent faculty she carries. I shall in future reduce the frequency of the stimulation lest overexposure cause long-term damage to her mind.

  "My work took longer than anticipated because the initial attendances were small, and by the time the numbers reached capacity, the meetings were stopped without violence and I was placed, at Brian's request and with the agreement of the magistrate himself, under house arrest in the home of Marcus Grappilius Medina pending interrogation by the Emperor…"

  –

  Their sandaled feet sounded loudly on the marble floor as a Nubian servant, decked out even more richly than Klum'bgaa had been and with a haughty cast of countenance that suggested that they rather than he were the slaves, conducted them into the audience chamber. It was not overly large but beautifully proportioned and rendered bright and spacious by arches and pillars in marble that was almost white. Occupying the spaces between the pillars on three sides of the chamber were many fine, life-sized sculptures while the opposite wall was hidden by purple and gold drapes that set off the dais that contained the throne. Six guards, three on each side, were ranged beside and slightly behind it. Their helmets and armor, which were of polished bronze rather than leather, shone brightly as did the blades of their short swords and the grounded spears revealed by the white cloaks that were thrown back from their shoulders. They, too, stood absolutely still, but unlike the statuary they would have come violently to life at the first sign of danger to their Emperor.

  The man seated on the cushioned, marble throne wore a simple white toga with a cloak of imperial purple thrown around his narrow shoulders and falling to and partly covering his thin, aging legs. A small crown of laurels, looking as if it had been placed there without thought and then forgotten, encircled his graying head. His features were stern and showed the impatience of one who was too old to waste time on unimportant matters and who had the authority not to suffer fools gladly. The eyes that looked out at them were old and wise and the mouth below the thin, hooked nose bore deep lines of asceticism, or perhaps they were the sign of one who suffered from a troublesome digestion.

  He did not look like the most powerful man in the known world, Declan thought, but it was said that out of all the emperors who had preceded him, Constantine was the one who had earned and truly deserved the title Great.

  "Do not grovel or flatter or lie to me," said the great man, with a tired gesture of one hand. "As the Emperor I know or am quickly told everything that is happening in my city whether it is good, bad, scandalous, seditious, or merely interesting. Your recent activities I find curious. As you must already have learned, I am liberal in the matter of personal beliefs, but some of the new faiths that are springing up try my patience and credulity. The minds of my citizens are free if not, for the most part, particularly gifted with intelligence, and I will not allow the gullible among them to be exploited by a religious charlatan. Ma'el, who are you, and why are you starting a new religion when the people already have a surfeit of them to choose from? Speak."

  Ma'el did not abase himself but he did give a very small bow, a gesture of respect that Declan had never seen him accord anyone in the past. Sinead and Declan gave deeper bows, and the physical deference shown by Brian was deep indeed. He spoke quickly before Ma'el could reply.

  "Great Imperator," he said, "I can vouch for this man's good conduct while in the city. He is a learned traveler and seeker of knowledge who, some say, is a magician but not a charlatan. On the voyage here I have had direct experience of his powers. But he has been at all times gentle and fair in his dealings and does not deserve to be…"

  "Your name is not Ma'el," said Constantine in a quiet voice that nevertheless sent a shiver along Declan's spine. Without taking his eyes off Ma'el, the Emperor went on, "I have no time to watch trickery, no matter how well it is performed, nor have I a need for character references because this is simply an interrogation and a search for truth. If or when it becomes a trial then I, as the First Magistrate of the City and the Empire, will decide on what this man deserves. Well, magician, waste not my time. If you are able to speak for yourself you have my permission to do so."

  "My thanks, Imperator," said Ma'el promptly, and went on, "I am a Taelon, one of a race that dwells in a strange land far beyond the borders of your empire, and a scholar who is anxious to travel, to learn, and occasionally to teach. Our people have great knowledge and many talents, one of which I was trying to impart to some of the young women of your city. My teaching does not place their bodies or their souls in jeopardy, nor does it influence their present beliefs in their different gods. I am not a god, the messenger of a god or even a prophet. At present I believe in no deity because I have learned of so many of them that I am confused and unable to make a choice."

  "In that you are not alone," said the Emperor dryly. "But in this nonreligion that you teach, are your students invited to contribute, voluntarily of course, to cover the cost of providing tapers, candles, food, wine, and such to maintain an agreeable level of worldly comfort for their teacher?"

 
; Ma'el's reply was quiet, deferential and the words well-chosen as befitted one who was telling the most powerful man in the world that he was wrong.

  "Imperator," he said, "no collections are taken up. The young women who come to me are required to bring nothing with them but their minds. If any of them should try to make such a contribution, they are thanked and instructed to give or spend their coins elsewhere. I have no need of wealth or property beyond that which I already possess, and feel no desire to complicate my life by making additions to it."

  "If what you say is true," said the other, a skeptical edge in his tone, "then you are indeed a wealthy and contented man. But what exactly do you teach, and why is it taught only to young women?"

  Ma'el did not answer at once and the Emperor said impatiently, "Come, come, learned magician. Do not waste my time on verbal invention. Be truthful or at least let your lies be consistent with the truth I already know, because certain young and nubile slaves of my household attended your meetings and reported the proceedings back to me. It surprised me when they said that you taught without asking anything for yourself, not even the payment in carnal pleasure that a young woman can give to an old and loveless man. Speak without delay."

  "My apologies, Imperator," said Ma'el. "I paused but to order my thoughts and fit the right words to them…"

  As he listened, Declan was reminded of the time the old man had explained the workings of his magic chart to Captain Nolan when he had been warning him of the impending storm. Then his words had been strange, precise but confusing. Constantine was an intelligent man, but it would not be wise for Ma'el to risk confusing him to the point where he might feel stupid in front of strangers. An angry Emperor and judge was not what they needed just now. Fervently he hoped that the old man would think about their situation and use words that were simple and reassuring rather than precise and confusing.