by Jeff Guinn
The other person didn’t cry out, but reached into another bag and withdrew what appeared to be a thick club, waving it at me. We made silent, threatening gestures: a pantomime of violence. For moments it was frightening, then quickly turned absurd.
EIGHT
Layla
The first time I saw Layla, we were sneaking into the same tent. Earlier that day, Felix and I had noticed some ragged travelers in the Constantinople marketplace. They were trying to trade dirty blankets for food, but none of the merchants were interested.
When the travelers gave up and walked away, Felix and I followed them to the outskirts of the city, where they were camped in tents. Several hungry-looking children ran up to them as they approached, obviously hoping they’d returned with something to eat, but they hadn’t. Felix and I nodded to each other. We returned to the marketplace and bought loaves of bread, large blocks of cheese, and lots of dried fruit. That night we loaded the food in our sacks and went back to the travelers’ tents. No one sat around the smoking coals of the small campfire; everyone was obviously asleep.
We’d learned from long experience that Felix tended to trip and bump into things whenever he tried to be stealthy, so I took the sacks and cautiously approached the first tent. Although it was old and patched, it was still big, with several inside poles propping up the canvas and two entry flaps, one at each end. The tent had room for six or seven people. I peeked inside the nearest entry flap and saw the sleeping forms of two adults—mother and father, probably—and two children. Motioning for Felix to stay outside and keep watch, I quietly eased myself inside. Being careful not to disturb anyone, I moved to the side of the nearest sleeping child, a little boy who looked much too thin. Reaching into my sack, I took out a loaf of bread, a block of cheese, and some sun-dried dates. I put these by the foot of his sleeping mat. When he woke in the morning there’d be enough food for him and his whole family to enjoy a good breakfast. Then I moved to where the next child slept. I reached into my sack for another loaf, and as I did someone else came through the other tent flap and nearly bumped into me.
I’d come close to being caught before, many times. Some people had caught glimpses of me, but never had I come face-to-face with someone whose house or tent I’d entered uninvited, although I’d done so for a good purpose. Remember, these were lawless times. Intruders were assumed to have come to steal or murder. You attacked burglars before they could attack you. So, expecting to be assaulted, I waved my loaf of bread like a weapon, hoping to frighten the other person enough so an alarm wouldn’t be raised before I could get out of the tent, find Felix, and run.
The other person didn’t cry out, but reached into another bag and withdrew what appeared to be a thick club, waving it at me. We made silent, threatening gestures: a pantomime of violence. For moments it was frightening, then quickly turned absurd. Obviously the other person didn’t want to be discovered, either. Well, if it was a thief, Felix and I could at least see nothing was stolen. I stopped waving the bread and gestured instead for the other person to follow me out of the tent.
Felix looked startled when he saw two people coming. I raised my index finger to my lips; everyone in the tents was still asleep. The three of us quietly moved to a few hundred yards away. Even when we stopped and began to whisper, I still didn’t get a good look at the intruder, who wore a dark cloak with a heavy hood.
“Who are you, and what are you trying to do?” I whispered. “If you’re a thief, leave these poor people alone. They don’t have anything to steal.”
“Speak for yourself!” came the whispered reply. “Did I interrupt your robbery? Well, if the two of you want to kill me, I’ll give you a hard fight first!”
“Give us the weapon you have in your pack, and then we’ll talk,” I suggested, still whispering. Felix moved quietly beside the stranger and put his hand into the pack. He looked puzzled as he pulled out a loaf of bread just like the one I’d been waving.
“Wait a moment,” he said, and reached in again. “There’s only food in here. Bread, olives, and fruit.”
“Go ahead and steal it,” sneered the stranger, hissing and sounding disgusted. “Fill your own fat stomachs while those poor people starve, and I hope you get the bellyaches you deserve afterward.”
“We’re not stealing anything, and don’t call me fat,” I hissed back. “Do you mean to tell me you were going into the tent to leave food, not to rob that family?”
The stranger snatched the loaf back out of Felix’s hand and put it back into the pouch. “I’ve never robbed anybody, which is more than I can say for you. Where’s that club you threatened me with?”
“I don’t have a club,” I replied. “Here’s what I was waving.” I pulled out my loaf of bread. “It seems neither one of us is a robber. Well, I’d like to know you better, friend. My companion and I have a clean, warm room back in the city. Would you care to accompany us there? We could find something to drink and be comfortable.”
“Perhaps, but first let’s finish our errand,” the stranger whispered, and I remembered why Felix and I had come to the camp in the first place. Happy to share an adventure with someone who obviously was kind, I agreed. The stranger left gifts in some tents, I did the same in others. When all our food had been quietly distributed, we rejoined Felix and returned to the city.
As we moved farther away from the tent camp, Felix and I began to talk in our normal voices. But the stranger never did, speaking seldom and then only in a whisper. When we arrived at the inn where Felix and I had our room, our invitation to come in for something to drink was refused with a simple shake of our new friend’s head.
“What’s wrong with you?” Felix asked. “You know we’re not thieves. We’re just two gift-givers who are pleased to meet another. Come on up; if you don’t have a place to stay, you can even sleep here.”
I thought this offer was generous, but the stranger didn’t, whispering, “I have to leave. Good night.” But I reached out, grabbed an arm, and said, “At least let me see who you are.” I pulled back the stranger’s hood and found myself looking into the face of a woman who was perhaps thirty-five years old.
“Let me go,” she said firmly, no longer whispering but sounding very definite. “I can fight if I have to.”
“Well, you don’t have to,” I said quickly. “Please, my good woman, don’t be afraid we’d harm you. Really, we honor you. Our offer of something to drink is made in friendship.”
The woman had huge dark eyes, the kind that look into other people’s hearts and instantly know all their secrets. She studied Felix and me carefully before saying, “Then in friendship I accept.”
We sat in the room for hours drinking watered fruit juice—wine was too expensive; we preferred spending our money on things needed by others—and talking about ourselves. We learned her name was Layla, and that she came from a small village not too far from Patara, where I was born. Like me, Layla had been orphaned early in life. An aunt and uncle raised her. They were farmers who were lucky enough to have good harvests every year, and it was their pleasure to give all the extra food they had to those in need.
“As I grew up I began hearing stories about some mysterious man who, many years earlier, came secretly by night and left gifts by the sleeping mats of the poor,” Layla explained. Felix looked amazed and poked me. I poked him back and muttered, “Be quiet.”
“I always thought that was something I’d like to do, too,” Layla continued. “When my aunt and uncle died, they left me their farm and a nice inheritance. Some of the men in my village thought they would marry me, but I knew it was because they wanted the farm and money and not because they loved me.” She gestured at herself. “I’m not beautiful, after all.”
Layla
“You seem beautiful to me,” I said before I could stop myself, and, once the words were spoken, they seemed to hang in the air. Felix grinned like a fool. Layla blushed, and I swallowed hard. Soon afterward I asked where she was staying, and she named a place nearby
that offered secure shelter to women traveling alone. “We’ll escort you back,” I suggested. “But will you please see us again tomorrow? I think we have a story to tell that might interest you.”
She agreed. Felix and I walked back to her inn with her and waited while she knocked on the door. After she was safely inside, we turned to walk back to our own room.
“You like her, don’t you?” Felix asked impudently.
“Of course I do,” I replied carefully. “She gives gifts, just as we do.”
“You like her for more than that,” Felix teased. “She likes you, too. I think there’s going to be a romance.”
“There’s going to be nothing of the kind!” I snapped. “Really, Felix, I’m more than one hundred thirty years old! That’s too old to think about marriage.”
“Well, you’re the one speaking of marriage, or didn’t you notice?” Felix pointed out.
“Don’t talk to me,” I mumbled, but when we were back in our room I dreamed the rest of the night about her beautiful eyes.
The next evening Layla joined us for supper. Later we distributed gifts to another poor family that had taken shelter in a rich man’s barn. Layla insisted she buy her fair share of the cloaks and sandals we left behind as gifts. I could tell she was a woman of strong spirit and great self-confidence.
“If you like, we could go back to the inn and I could tell you a story you might enjoy,” I suggested.
Layla agreed, and when we were seated and had fruit juice to drink, I began to tell her something of myself. It was strange to describe my early life again. Before, I’d only spoken of it to Felix. Layla listened carefully, her eyes peering into mine and apparently satisfying herself that I was telling the truth. I wasn’t sure how much she should hear, but I ended up telling everything—about the first gifts to the daughters of Shem in Patara; my decision to become a priest; how people began to surround me all the time, and how I left Myra in the middle of the night to regain the privacy I needed for gift-giving; the way in which I first learned time and distance were different for me, and my meeting Felix in Rome. Finally, hesitantly, I told her how Felix and I had stopped aging. This last information was so outrageous, I worried Layla might laugh at me or call me a liar, but she didn’t. My story took until dawn to tell, and when I finally finished, she sat quietly and looked at me with those wonderful eyes.
“So it was you all along,” she said. “You did the deeds that inspired me. Well, how splendid.”
“You believe me?” I asked hopefully.
She seemed surprised by the question. “Of course I do! No one could invent such an incredible tale. So now you and Felix will spend eternity doing good things for others—how blessed you are, how lucky!”
I couldn’t help myself. “But it’s lonely sometimes,” I blurted. Felix, seated near me, looked rather insulted. I ignored him. “The task is so great. So many people need so much. And I need your help. Will you join me, I mean, join us?”
I propose marriage to Layla
“He’s asking you to marry him, so I’m going to leave for a while,” Felix interrupted, and bolted out the door before I could stop him.
“Are you?” Layla asked. “I’m not sure if you have or haven’t.”
I wanted to be angry with Felix, but I realized he’d only spoken the words I’d meant to say. “I suppose I am asking you to marry me,” I admitted. “I’ve had no practice asking this before, so maybe I didn’t do it properly. And it’s all right if you say no.”
“Of course I’ll marry you, as long as you promise we can be equal partners in gift-giving,” Layla said. “I can’t imagine a happier life.”
I wasn’t certain what to do next. I thought about going to her and kissing her, but as I got to my feet another thought came to me.
“Layla,” I asked. “What about how long you’ll live? I mean, it seems Felix and I have stopped growing older, but what about you? I couldn’t stand it if we married and I lived on and on, only to lose you along the way.”
“Perhaps I’ll be like Felix and stop aging, too,” she suggested. “If I don’t, well, who can tell the future, anyway?”
“I can’t help but wonder—” I began, but she held up her hand for me to be quiet. What a strong-minded woman!
“Stop talking, Nicholas,” she said firmly. “I think, since we’re to be married, that you ought to come over here and kiss me instead.”
So I kissed her, and a few days later we were married by the priest of a small church. He performed the wedding service in exchange for a set of Felix’s finest carved-wood book covers. Then we moved on, Felix and Layla and me—three gift-givers ready for further adventures.
Attila leaned forward. “Tell me more,” he begged, and I did. My whole story flowed out of me, and my tale went back to the beginning at Patara and all the way up to our capture by his scouts.
NINE
Travels with Attila
Because there were always so many wars going on, it was hard to travel from one part of the world to another. Although the three of us somehow could travel faster than other humans, that advantage was only possible in countries at peace. Where there was danger from marauding armies, we had to make our way carefully, like everyone else.
Layla, Felix, and I had decided we should concentrate on exploring those countries where Christianity had spread, often by priests who’d ventured into the wilderness. These priests were usually allowed to travel unmolested. Christian armies gave them free passage and other armies knew priests had taken vows of poverty and didn’t have anything worth stealing.
So the three of us did our best to move about quietly, avoiding battlefields and spending as much time as possible in villages. Whenever we were stopped and questioned, we said Felix and I were priests and Layla was a nun. We certainly looked poor, and took pains to hide the money we had with us. Most of our funds were left with Timothy, who would send messengers to us with more as we needed it.
Nighttime gift-giving continued; we all enjoyed it, especially Layla. Felix and I soon found how helpful it was to have a woman working with us. When we’d reach a village, Layla would mingle with other women in the marketplace or at the river washing clothes, and later she’d return knowing exactly what each child in the village needed.
But we also tried to learn as much as we could about each country we visited. We didn’t know why this might someday be important. We only knew it was something we should do. All three of us were especially interested in the islands of Britain, which had long since become legendary in other parts of the world. Tales had it that the original Britons painted themselves blue and lived in trees. Later, the myths said, they were led by great wizards known as Druids. The Romans eventually made Britain part of their empire, but it was easier to claim the islands than to keep them. The Britons were wild warriors and resisted the Romans as well as any Roman foe had. Finally, the Romans decided to concentrate their forces closer to their homeland.
As soon as the Roman forces left, the Saxons saw their chance. These fierce fighters crossed the narrow channel between Europe and England in warships, always eager to give battle and never in the habit of being merciful to anyone weaker than they were. The Britons soon found themselves in desperate trouble.
Still, the first Christian priests had made their way to the islands, so Layla, Felix, and I decided to follow them there if we could. The year was 453 A.D., and by my best estimate I was one hundred seventy-three years old.
“I don’t see how we’re going to get across the water to those islands,” Felix grumbled as we slowly made our way northwest. “And if we do get to Britain, what if we’re the only ones there who haven’t painted ourselves blue?”
“Then we’ll paint ourselves blue, too,” said Layla, who hadn’t seemed to age a day since she’d married me forty-three years earlier. “Remember, we don’t want to draw attention to ourselves.”
“Too late for that,” I interrupted. “We have unwanted company, and they’ve certainly noticed us.”
>
We were in a forest near the Rhine River, and had heard from other travelers that the army of the great Hun chief Attila might be nearby. The Huns were a warlike people whose tribes originated in what is now called Germany. They’d been a constant problem for the Romans, and Attila had long been one of the most feared warriors in Europe. But in 451 A.D., the Romans had formed a temporary alliance with the Visigoths and together they’d defeated Attila in a day-long battle. He and his army fled, although everyone knew they’d be back again in force. As Felix, Layla, and I neared the Rhine, local rumor had it that Attila had returned, this time determined to invade Italy and conquer Rome itself.
The rumor was right. While Felix and Layla had been talking, I saw six Huns dressed in wolfskins and armed with bows and short spears emerge from behind nearby trees. They quickly surrounded us.
We’d spent much of our time learning different languages, so we were able to talk with them.
“Whose army do you fight with?” one of the Huns asked, pulling an arrow back on his bowstring and looking quite eager to shoot it at us.
Europe, as it would appear later
“No one’s army,” I answered as calmly as I could. “We’re Christians trying to reach the islands of Britain. As you can see, we’re very poor. But if you’re hungry, we have bread and dried fruit in our packs. Would you like some?”
One of the warriors was very young, perhaps twelve. All six Huns were skinny, and this boy smiled when he heard me offer food. He started to move forward, but the first warrior, who seemed to be the leader, gestured for him to wait.