“But you worry about the dockworkers who live in them,” said Rojeh with conviction.
“There is another hard winter coming,” said Ragoczy Franciscus as he swung his ax down from his shoulder and faced the simple wood buildings. “I will try to find the main beams and the walls carrying the most weight. Once we get those down, the rest should be simple.”
Rojeh knew better than to question this assertion. Ragoczy Franciscus set his bucket down, saying as he did, “There is a water trough near the Christian compound. Fill this and your pail there, and bring them back. We will need water—”
“—if anything begins to smolder,” Rojeh finished, hastening to obey.
Confronting the small wooden houses, Ragoczy Franciscus felt a pang of sorrow for these buildings, so forlorn to begin with, and now given as sacrifices to the advancing fire. Looking about, he realized that the houses were vacant, that the workers who had lived in them had abandoned them some time ago. Reluctantly he swung his ax at the nearest door and felt the planks splinter under his first blow. He tugged the ax free and struck again, this time destroying the door. He went into the small house, making a quick inspection of its interior, noticing a crudely painted Christian icon on the wall over the single window. A swift survey of the two rooms showed him where the weight of the house was centered, and he began his calculations.
“My master,” Rojeh called from outside. “Where are you?”
“In here. I’ve found the trunk of the roof,” he said. “If I bring down the north wall, I should be able to fell the house like a tree.”
“How do you wish me to help?” Rojeh asked.
“Pull the rubble away as I knock down the wall,” said Ragoczy Franciscus, and chopped at the main supports of the wall, hearing the wood crack on his third blow.
The single bell at the Most Holy Dormition was tolling out the call to midday worship when the group of five houses finally collapsed. The fire had come closer, and the air was acrid with smoke. Cinders floated on the rising wind, many of them igniting small fires where they landed, whether on wood, on clothing, or on debris.
“I’ll get us more water!” Rojeh shouted as Ragoczy Franciscus struggled to pull a large beam out of the confusion of the wrecked building at the edge of the square.
“Good!” He was beginning to tire. “And then help me stack all this.”
Rojeh said nothing; he brought the water, saying as he neared Ragoczy Franciscus, “The wharf is not burning any longer. What’s left of the fire is confined to the south end of the town.”
Ragoczy Franciscus nodded to show he had heard. “I hope we did not demolish these houses for no reason.”
“The fire isn’t out yet,” Rojeh reminded him, and took up his rake again to clear away the wreckage. He rubbed his face and left a smear of soot and grime across his forehead and cheek; then he took up his ax and looked about. “Where next?”
“To where the last of the fire is.” Saying this, he turned on his heel and started across the wide market-square through the scudding smoke and the hectic disorder of the afternoon.
Text of a letter from Brother Theofeo in Antioch to Pope Silverius in Roma, carried by pilgrims and delivered at Easter in 537.
Hail, Silverius, true and only Pope of Christians, our source of intercession in this world, and the means of the salvation of all souls on earth, this from your most humble servant, Brother Theofeo, currently in Antioch, but bound, as you have ordered, for the trade routes of the East, on this the last day of November in the 536thyear of Redemption.
I have at last arrived in this city, and I regret to tell you that most of the churches here remain stubborn in their adherence to the Eastern Rite, preferring the teachings from Constantinople to those from Roma, thus showing their lack of comprehension of all that Christ sacrificed for us, and for which they will pay dearly when He comes again in glory to judge the living and the dead. There have been many conversions of late, but not to the True Church, which may mean that in the name of Christ many are led from Grace to Perdition. Amen.
For surely the end of the world is at hand. Many have starved, and others have suffered from fevers. Some have lost their wits, while others have had to give up every possession in order to get enough to eat. The sun has not given life to the fields, and the farms show sparse growth, so that there is talk of another year of famine in the coming winter, which must surely mean that the end of the world has arrived and the Messiah is coming to purge away the sins of the world. Amen.
Sailors here have said that the sea has continued to be turbulent, and if my crossing was an example, then I must accept what they told me as truth, for I have rarely encountered so many days of squalls and tempests as I found coming here. And now we are subjected to rain, as if Noah were needed again. One man I spoke with told me that he had lost his house, his barns, his wife, and three of his children to floods. Amen.
I have been informed that in some parts of the city there has been a dramatic upswelling of rats, that these fell creatures, rather than hiding in the shadows, have taken to the streets in chittering swarms, devouring all that they encounter, including children. Some have lost donkeys to them, as well as the dogs and cats that roam the streets. Some say this is another plague, as there were in Egypt, and that locusts may soon be upon us. There have also been many mad dogs seen, and a few have bitten men and given them their madness. Now any stray dog is in danger of being stoned to death, for fear of the madness. The carcasses are left for carrion birds and rats to eat, and that has led to fights among these scavengers that remind us that Mercy is often most lacking where it is most needed. Amen.
There is a hermitage established not far from here, in the desert, where it is said a hundred holy men are in constant prayer for the salvation of all souls. I have determined to find these hermits and discover what they know of these hard years, for they must have garnered wisdom through their long years of prayer. Amen.
Marsh Fever is increasing in this city, and there are makeshift shelters for the afflicted. Some of the Christians, in charity, have devoted themselves to tending those with Marsh Fever, and there is now a Patriarch assigned to supervise the activities of those nurses, for many of them are ill-prepared for what they must do to succor the sufferers. I myself have given three days to attend Brother Maurinios, who had taken Marsh Fever, and who passed beyond this life to Glory in Paradise two days since. I have benefited from the Patriarch’s instructions. Amen.
Travelers from the East—and there are fewer of them than there have been in the past—tell of similar harsh conditions as far as the Fortress of the Stone Tower and beyond. There are accounts of whole tribes of grassland peoples moving westward with herds and flocks, because their pasturage has dried to nothing and they must find other ground or starve. I am making a point of seeking out various travelers to discover what they have seen for themselves, to be sure that the chronicles I have been given are not rendered more exciting by the addition of calamities beyond what they may have experienced. Amen.
One of the Patriarchs from the Church of the Annunciation led a procession of penitents through the streets not three days since, all singing the Dance of Jesus, and exhorting all they encountered to join with them in prayer and contrition, to Confess past errors and embrace humility and their faith for the sake of their souls. Many of those who saw them joined with them, proclaiming that they would forsake sin and live in virtue for the life that is to come. I saw this with my own eyes, and I was touched by their fervor and saddened by their error in following the Eastern Rite. Amen.
I shall await your instructions, Holy Father, and I will pray for the triumph of Faith before we are all Judged. This tribulation can only bring greater joy in Paradise, and so we must bow to God’s Will and dedicate ourselves to emulating the sacrifice made for the atonement of our sins, and for our Salvation. Your courier may find me at the Church of the Apostle Luke in the Street of the Saddle-Makers here in Antioch. Amen.
Brother Theofeo
At the end of November in the 536thYear of Salvation
7
“The ponies are no better; you can see that they are not improving,” Dukkai accused as Ragoczy Franciscus rose from inspecting the peeling hooves of the latest victims of the crippling condition. “We will have to kill these four. It is meat for us, but we must save some of our ponies or we will never leave this place.”
Ragoczy Franciscus brushed off his hands. “You have had fever—especially Wet Lungs and Gray Cough—among your people, and your animals are sick.”
“We are punished by the Lords of the Earth. The Underworld Judge is one of them, and he is calling us to account.” She put her hand to her eyes, whether to hide her tears or to block out the sight of the miserable animals, not even she knew. “We will die here, just like those in the town are dying. As all the world is dying.”
“Are more of your people ill?” Ragoczy Franciscus asked, trying not to give in to the worry that was building within him. “Shall I make you more of the sovereign remedy?”
She studied him briefly. “No; you needn’t bother. They won’t take anything from foreigners now.”
“Yet they will let me treat their livestock,” said Ragoczy Franciscus with a slight shrug, coming across the icy path to her side.
“I had a dream of Tejamksa, and it troubles me,” Dukkai said unexpectedly. “She has appeared to me, to guide me,” she added, slowly.
“Has her guidance been useful?” Ragoczy Franciscus asked.
“I fear it may be,” she said. “If you would be willing to let me tell you about it before you leave this evening?”
He saw the hopefulness in her blue eyes and said, “I will be at your disposal.”
She made a gesture of relief. “Thank you.”
“I have done nothing yet,” he reminded her.
“You will help. You always have,” she said, and pointed toward the marsh. “There is ice forming in the reeds tonight.”
He accepted her change of subject without challenge. “The winter is going to be a hard one. Perhaps not as severe as last year, but worse than usual.”
“Yes. All the signs are for it. I have told Neitis Ksoka to make sure there are shelters for our animals as well as for us. He has ordered more tent frames made so that we can put the ponies and the goats inside if there is another ice storm. And there will be—more than one.” She closed her eyes hard, the deep wrinkles around them standing out in sharp relief.
“Did you see that in the smoke?” Ragoczy Franciscus asked, keeping his voice as level as he could.
“Yes. If we do not resume our journey, and soon, it is more likely that we will have to suffer for our stubbornness. The Lords of the Earth are in need of our travel. The longer we remain fixed here, the more they must undergo for our sake.”
“That is asking much of you in a difficult time,” Ragoczy Franciscus observed in a deliberately neutral tone.
“There were many years when the Lords of the Earth asked little and gave much. Now the stream flows the other way, and we must give more for less. If we honor them, the Lords of the Earth will once again restore us to plenty. If we do not show our respect, they will abandon us and we will perish.” She pointed out over the marsh, now glowing in the feeble sunlight on the low-lying mist. “The Water Spirits are strong here, and the Lords of the Earth are as weak as the sun has been for two years.”
“Ah,” said Ragoczy Franciscus. “You have not changed your vision of your circumstances, then?”
She shuddered as the wind picked up, cold and unforgiving. “I have eaten the Fingers of Truth—I brought them with me, in a box made of jade—and hoped for more knowledge to be imparted to me, but it hasn’t happened; I have sought out the most remote parts of the marsh where the Water Spirits hover in orbs of light and have ascertained nothing from them. The Lords of the Earth still ail, and I cannot learn more from them until I offer them healing, and the strength of blood to fortify them.”
“You will give them another sacrifice?” Ragoczy Franciscus walked a half step behind her as they went back toward the cluster of tents where most of the Desert Cats were busy sewing second layers of skins to the tent frames.
“I must,” she said, avoiding his penetrating gaze. “I have a duty to my people and to the Lords of the Earth. They expect me to provide more.” She glanced over her shoulder toward the line of ponies, then back at him. “You have done as much as you can.”
“I hope I have helped ease your burdens,” he said. “I am willing to do more, if you require it.”
She went a short distance in silence. “Are you planning to leave Sarai soon?”
“The Master of Foreigners has ordered that I depart within a week after the spring thaw.” He thought a moment. “Your visions: what do they tell you is ahead?”
“I’m unsure. The dream of my aunt has made what is coming more difficult.” She turned as a dark smear issued from the caves beneath the walls of Sarai. “Bats. They fly every sundown.”
“They do little harm,” said Ragoczy Franciscus, pausing by the midden.
“The midden gathers heat to itself.”
“I will arrange for a cartload of wood-shavings to be brought to you. If you do not want them, burn them in your cooking fires. Otherwise, use them in your middens.”
“You have no need of them?” She sounded dubious and studied his face for his answer.
“Considering that Sarai has had two fires in the last month, I believe it would be wiser to bring the shavings to you. If you would rather not have them, I will tell the builders to dispose of the shavings as they like.” He smiled at her.
She thought about her response, then said, “If Neitis Ksoka approves, it is acceptable to me.”
“Then where is he? I would like to ask him if he would permit me to do this for you.”
“He has gone with two of the men, hunting for meat. They said there were wild pigs to be had along the marsh, if the tigers haven’t gotten them first.” This last was a dark afterthought, one that brought a frown back to her face.
Ragoczy Franciscus understood her fears; attacks by wolves, bears, lions, and tigers were increasing as the amount of food available dwindled. “He is a clever hunter, and he and his men are well armed, I doubt he is going to be hurt.”
“It would be a very bad omen if anything were to happen to him. Ksoka would have no leader and the clan no Kaigan. Zumir is too young to lead, and he is not going to guide Ksoka, in any case, not with his fits. You have not seen him have one, but he is taken with dreadful twitching and spasms from time to time, and he is lethargic for days afterward, when he cannot ride.” She pressed her lips closed as if afraid of what more she might say.
“Why did you never tell me about this?” Ragoczy Franciscus asked.
“It is a shameful thing. The clan would not like to know I’ve told you.” She lowered her voice. “Do not tell anyone about this.”
He knew she was utterly serious. “Very well. But if you change your mind—”
“I will not,” she interrupted. “I give him Fingers of Truth brewed in a tea, and it provides some relief.”
“Then I hope he may be safe.” He went around the end of the makeshift pen where the goats were gathered. All of them were thin, and a number had patchy coats where the hair had fallen out. “Have you done anything about that?” he asked, indicating the exposed skin of the goats. “With the weather turning so cold, you need to protect them.”
“They will go into a tent tonight, with two guards with them,” said Dukkai.
“A good beginning, but not enough to keep them from hurt, not with their hair falling out in that way,” said Ragoczy Franciscus. “I have an unguent that may help them—it is made of herbs infused with wool-fat and olive oil.” He could sense her reluctance, so he added, “If you have treatments of your own, I will not impose mine upon you.”
She shook her head. “No. The treatments we have tried have done nothing. I will be glad to use yours, but there are those in
my clan who would not be.”
He held out his hand to her to help her over a broad swath of unmelted ice. “Come. I want to make sure you can use the new cooking pot I bring you.”
“Another gift,” she said, wagging a finger at him, refusing his help. “You continue to do us service, Zangi-Ragozh. It is not an easy thing to explain to the clan.”
“It is what Neitis Ksoka said you lacked when I was here two days ago. He said your old one had become rusted and it was no longer reliable.” He stopped as he saw two young men approaching, one of them carrying the bodies of two limp ducks, the other holding a stick from which depended four small fish. “You will be glad of a new pot to cook those in.”
“Yes. So I will accept it.” She folded her arms and addressed the young men. “Have you brought those for our evening meal?”
The two exchanged quick glances, then the one with the fish said, “Yes, Dukkai,” with an exaggerated show of deference. “We intend these for everyone.”
“Very good,” Dukkai approved, adding in an undervoice to Ragoczy Franciscus, “Some of the boys have been catching birds and fish, then going off into the marsh and eating it all themselves.”
“Are you surprised?” Ragoczy Franciscus asked.
“No, but I cannot allow it to continue.” She raised her voice. “Your game may be the first into the new pot.”
The young man with the ducks sighed. “We’ll clean them and bring them to Tokatis.”
“He will be glad to have them,” said Dukkai, and tugged Ragoczy Franciscus’ sleeve. “Show me this wondrous pot.”
“It is with the other items on the mule I have just purchased,” he said.
“I saw it as you rode in. Your mare is a much finer animal.” She took a long moment to look at Ragoczy Franciscus, as if she was committing his face to memory.
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