���None of them,��� Arthur announced. ���But instead, a singular God, who has made all worlds, all that is seen and unseen.���
And there was even more unrest in the room, until Arthur continued again; Describing that for these crimes, for false accusations against them, and for denying the deity of the Emperor, that these men and women were hunted from house to house, and were fed to lions and wild beasts in the Circus Maximus in Rome, or were set ablaze as torches to light the Emperor Nero’s garden parties.
���It was the gods, punishing them for their lies,��� yelled one of the men who sat directly behind our young travelers.
And this comment was warmly welcomed by some in the audience, by way of applause, but what happened next was not so kindly received.
As Arthur began to describe the conversion of Emperor Constantine, and how, that as a result, these peoples’ beliefs were finally made legal, and how they eventually even became the official faith of the Roman Empire.
The room erupted in chaos.
���Lies, all of these, lies!��� the reigning Senator, who’d protested earlier, shouted. ���Should we let this foreigner speak ill of the gods, and of Rome?!��� he yelled, turning to address the crowd.
There were cheers, and shouts, and an overall resounding ���No,��� in response to the Senator’s question; Meaning that many of them had not believed Arthur’s account of Roman history. And so that now was the beginning of what could have been a very deadly riot, for all of them, and not only Arthur.
Hands seized onto Arthur’s legs, grappling at him. He was beginning to be pulled from his pedestal, to face the mob’s vengeful justice. Until Caius (the man who had been Tavora’s doctor) intervened, waving his hands and calling the mob to attention.
���Please!��� he pleaded. ���Do not allow our good laws to be broken with violence. This man, from Earth, is not well. He too was bitten by a nocte creatura (in English, ���a creature of the night���), and he is still delusional.���
This was very obviously a lie, but a face saving lie, that seemed to bring the crowd back to their senses; Knowing that such a mob action would be clearly against Roman law. And so they relented, offering Arthur up to the good care of his doctor, Caius.
Later that night, once Arthur and the rest of the group of light travelers, and Caius, were safely back in the hospital room, with the door locked shut, they all thanked the good doctor for his clever diversion that had saved all their lives.
Caius nodded, acknowledging their thanks, and saying to Arthur, ���The truth is a hard medicine. You should give them time to swallow it.���
Chapter Thirty-Eight
A Year
Though time does not, as is said, heal all wounds; For some it may, if their hearts be willing. Though for the remainder of their year’s exile in Lucus, Arthur was never again fully welcomed into Roman society, but was treated as a partial outcast, or as a man of low standing.
And he would never be talked to openly, but in secret meetings in his hospital room, which became more like his temporary detainment cell. And for several months at first, he would have sporadic late night visitors: men and women coming in secret to ask him all manner of questions, and whom feared the ruling Senate, and public opinion, so that they would come only in the latest hours of the night. Though these meetings slowly grew in numbers, and in frequency. Until they became a nightly event, that had by then only made the pretense of being secretive, and had grown so large that they would regularly fill outside the hospital room doors.
During this time, each night Arthur would have a new topic for discussion: about the properties of human cells, or the laws of Thermal Dynamics, or matters of philosophy, and theology, or the greater scope of human history. Even the other light travelers would often come, to listen, or to aid in the discussion, and to answer the occasional question from a more modern perspective (since Arthur had missed, as you’ll remember, the previous sixty-five years of Earthly development).
Yet, even the younger light travelers did not all attend each and every night; Occasionally their desire for knowledge would be overshadowed by their need for rest. That is, for all of them except Tavora, who came every night without fail, once the ���Meeting���, as it was called, was established. And she would soak in every bit she could, considering she had never heard any of these things before, and she had no rudimentary understanding of steam power, nor of the frequency spectrum of light, as her friends from Earth had.
And here I shall write a bit of their conversations from these nights, so that you will have a general feel for what was said:
On the night when they discussed the overall picture of Roman and Greek mythology, a woman by the name of Lydia, who had come since the very beginning, and now brought her husband, and their young sleeping child, whom she held in her arms, she asked Arthur this question, ���But how should we know that our gods are legends, as you say, and not real? Since we cannot see their world, to tell if they be real or not,��� she asked.
The still very bearded Arthur Greyford, sat back in his hospital bed, to ponder her question. After a few seconds he spoke, ���Because, by your own stories of them, logic would deny their existence. For example… when we look at the greatness of all worlds, how should we imagine the God who has created them? Should he be petty, and covetous, and a liar, like man? Or should he be greater than man, having sculpted every intricacy of our persons, as an artist sculpts a bit of stone?���
And these were the sorts of things of which they spoke, every evening, in the midnight hours, until their year had been completed.
Until one late spring day around sunset, as they stood outside the borders of the grove city, awaiting Surru’s dagger to begin to glow, to take them back to wherever the globe of Gleomu was now kept. And they hoped to see it back safely in the hands of King Corwan, but they all knew those chances were unlikely.
Many months before, Arthur had tried, by his own fatherly inclinations, to convince the rest of them to stay behind. But they had all decided, since the beginning, that they would all go, or none of them would. So that their choice was obvious, although incredibly dangerous.
If Surru still had the globe, they would be landing in the heart of his army, with only the few weapons they held in their hands.
���Do you think Ismere has fallen?��� Tavora asked Arthur, with an almost noticeable water in her eyes.
Arthur looked sad as well. ���For their sakes, I should almost hope that it has… because if they’ve lasted this long, I would hate to see what has become of them.���
Both very fitting and ominous last words, as Surru’s dagger began to glow, forming an orb around them all, and as they waved farewell to new friends in the city of Lucus, on their way to face an enemy of unrelenting terror and seemingly unstoppable power.
Oded began to hate his life, for perhaps the first time. Very often throughout the course of that past year, he had been remorseful, despising what he had done, and many times he had loathed his circumstance and ill-treatment. But now he began to hate his life, and not only the things that had transpired, not simply his personal history during the last twelve months; Of broken and burned villages, and ransacked civilizations, which he was forced to watch and to be party to, as a laughing stock to the desert people and their king, Surru.
But I mean very clearly, his life. The breath in his lungs and the pumping red blood in his veins, these things he began to hate during the siege and onslaught against Ismere. To watch in horror, the devastation and forcible servitude of neighboring foreign countries was one thing, but to see the gradual starvation of his own people, to see their cavalry all but annihilated, drew up these feelings of hatred within Oded.
Coarse and filthy from being dragged over the entirety of that world, the rope tied around his leg began to seem like an appropriate means to a better end. Though he never tried it. He knew he
had done wrong, and this was his lifelong sentence. To be carried to every battle, to watch as his actions destroyed the lives of countless innocents; he knew this was his lot to suffer, and so he did. Although he hated it.
A dirty piece of bird leg, perhaps a pheasant or a wild turkey, was thrown to him as an evening supper. It landed on the ground just outside his reach. He pulled at the rope tied to his leg, but his fingers would not reach it.
���So close, little king,��� a desert soldier mocked him, using the nickname they’d fashioned for him.
���You will have your riches soon enough, I bet,��� another soldier taunted.
���A shining castle, and servants-��� the first soldier began to say, until he was interrupted by a considerably large light orb, descending through the clouds.
That day, no one was to use the globe, by the Desert King’s orders.
No attacking parties allowed to terrorize the citizens of Ismere, and no healing trips back to Eddesu, as they would often do (even if they hadn’t needed it). A forced rest in a battle that had waged on without pause for one full year.
That day was the day that Arthur Greyford, of Earth, was to return, and Surru wished to be ready at the globe, to slay him when he arrived. This had been anticipated for that whole year. And seeing the orb drop through the clouds, those taunting soldiers ran from berating their prisoner, to witness something that might prove to be more exciting: The supposed murder of Arthur Greyford, and perhaps those children who’d escaped with him, if they were so dull as to return for their own deaths.
An orb of abnormally large size fell to the ground, landing within the center of Surru’s spectating army. The orb dissolved away. There was nothing, not even the dagger that Surru had given to Arthur when they were sent away.
���It’s empty,��� many of the men said aloud, including Surru’s chief captain, Ekallu, speaking suspiciously.
���That’s impossible,��� one of the soldiers who had been taunting Oded said, when he saw it.
Yet, Surru was far too discerning to fall blindly into believing that the globe had malfunctioned, conveniently causing nothing to be returned, and his dagger to have vanished away somehow.
���An orb cannot be returned with nothing,��� Surru said into the emptiness. ���Did you think I would be so simple minded?��� he spoke, as if Arthur had been there in front of him. He took a step closer, toward the vacant space near the globe. ���Even if you’d ground my dagger into powder, the dust would return… Show yourself… Arthur.���
Though almost as quickly as he’d said this, a dagger flew from that invisible space, striking into the dirt near his feet. There were gasps from those nearest to the King, and several of his men took inconspicuous, cautious steps away from him, not wanting to fall victim to any misplaced ���magical��� arrows, or invisible swords, and then silence fell once more, as they waited in anticipation.
This dead still quiet was absolute, as all of Surru’s army, and his enlisted soldiers from the surrounding conquered nations stood hardly breathing. And if they had not been so quiet, it’s doubtful they would have heard it: the sound of something mechanical, a sound that any bystander with modern ears would immediately recognize, the sound of something electrical being rapidly charged.
A glowing ball launched into the sky, as if it had been thrown into existence, as if from nothing. Now the soldiers standing by were not so quiet. And once the mechanical ball had nearly reached its high point, something else happened, something unexpected, unprecedented, and rather impossible sounding when said aloud, or written onto paper.
In one instant, as quickly as eyes can be opened, the contents of that abnormally-sized orb were revealed, and they were not entirely human. Or put more precisely, there were five humans: four of them with weapons drawn and with borrowed Roman armor, each seated upon one of four giant-sized lizards. And the fifth person, was standing in the center of the group, and was the one who had thrown his mechanical ball.
In the very second they were seen, they shot out like the directional markings on a compass, each to his or her preplanned direction, and with Ata launching into the sky (with Barbara’s medallion hung around his neck, since they could not chance it to be lost within the ranks of the army).
And though they had weapons and armor, this was not an attack, but instead a calculated and daring retreat. This was fleeing.
���Ha!��� Timothy shouted, to get his lizard moving, and in a flash they were off. Swifter and more agile than horses, and with a deadly set of claws and teeth.
During that previous year, Timothy had actually grown to appreciate lizard-back riding, and now he was most grateful for it; Blazing through the army, shoving aside dumbfounded soldiers who had been ill-prepared for a fight.
This waiting army on the plains near Ismere was massive and sprawling, but on the back of a sprinting lizard, Timothy broke through the ranks without even a swipe of his sword. So that now, he thought, nothing in that world could overtake him.
He glanced behind, as he barreled past the last soldier in his path. In his peripheral, he saw Mr. Greyford break through the army ranks as well, looking like an old Roman sage, in his armor and long beard. Far above them, and trailing behind Timothy’s blistering pace was Ata, throwing his mechanical ball as hard and as fast as he could.
Three of the five were decent odds, and better than he’d secretly anticipated, though still not enough.
���Where is she?��� he said in his mind, thinking of Barbara.
She should have been through by then. Had it been too long? Had she been captured? - he thought, but tried not to imagine it.
He was already nearing the midway point between the capital city and the Desert King’s army, when he saw her. She was riding erratically, attempting to steer a now tailless lizard, while turned around in her seat, firing her bow into the crowd behind her.
This was both a tremendous relief, and a bewildering surprise; Since Barbara had expressed earlier, as they planned for their escape, a moral quandary about shooting at any living person.
���Even if they’re trying to kill you?��� Timothy had asked at the time.
���Regardless,��� Barbara said with some certainty in her voice. ���These are real people, Tim. I don’t think I could handle that, to be responsible for someone’s death.���
Though in the end, Arthur convinced her to take a bow, saying that she was definitely a good enough aim, so that she wouldn’t have to worry about murdering anyone.
So then, this understood, it was a bizarre sight to see her that way. She reached for her arrows with a rapid pace, frantically firing at a target, seeming as though she most desperately wanted to kill something.
A blasting, terribly frightening and familiar sound broke across the plains. Not that Timothy had heard this sound many times before: he had only heard it once, that he could be sure of, though that was enough. A roar, more exactly a lion’s roar, it echoed and imprinted in his consciousness. And somehow he knew instantly the creature to whom this roar belong.
It was the lioness; The leader of the pride from Eddesu, the one who would always send the lesser lions to fight in her place, the greatest, and most ferocious of them all. And Timothy knew instantly that Barbara was not trying to kill a person, but a thing, a deadly beastly monster. And he hoped that she could.
Though hoping alone will not come to the aid of a good friend, only action can do that. And so he did something brash, that he had consequently thought to do earlier; Turning his lizard back toward the hungry jaws of a roaring lion.
Barbara aimed as precisely as she could, while riding backwards upon a floundering reptile.
���Steady, Quill,��� she shouted (which was the name she’d given her lizard).
She fired at the lion. Though it, and King Surru, its rider, seemed to easily evade her attempts.
���Hurry!��� she s
aid again to Quill. Although he was noticeably less agile since losing his tail in their escape, and was therefore slower.��
The lioness, who was larger than any they’d seen before, and her rider, were gaining on Barbara. It leaped and glided as it ran. A flash of a six-fingered paw, like daggers, swiped the air only a hand’s breadth from the nub at the base of where Quill’s tail had been. Barbara fired again, trying to keep a steady breath as she aimed, and her arrow pierced into the flesh of that beast’s shoulder.
Though she was too late to do any good, and a winged-lion even with injured limbs can still fly. Another swipe of the paw and Quill was knocked from his feet, and Barbara was sent tumbling through the high grass.
Her head spun, but in the confusion she thought she heard a voice.
���Barbara!��� the voice called to get her attention. Turning her head, she saw Timothy.
���Grab my hand!��� he said.
And without barely pausing, and his lizard at nearly full speed, he pulled her by the hand, so hard that it could have torn her arm from the socket. Though it didn’t, and within a second they were galloping away from the treacherous king’s army.
Disoriented from her fall, she mumbled the name Quill, repeatedly as a question.
���He’s gone,��� Timothy answered, without having to look back.
Though Barbara did look, and she saw that he was right. The lion had had its way with him. But now, they were within the range of the city’s long bowmen, and they would no longer be pursued.
A half-minute later, they held on tightly as Timothy’s lizard did what lizards are able to do, running up and over the city walls, and with the same ease as it would have running upon flat ground.
And once Arthur and Ata had arrived, they were all elated, for only a passing moment. Until they quickly realized that not all of them had made it safely to Ismere. There was one girl still absent, one very important young girl.
*
The Histories of Earth, Books 1-4: In the Window Room, A Prince of Earth, All the Worlds of Men, and Worlds Unending Page 58