The End of Things Ch. 08: The Shroud

As the vision faded and my eyes adjusted to the sudden darkness, I saw Junia and Helen looking at me eagerly.

"Did she speak to you, Carwen?" Junia was anxious for an answer, so I told her what had happened.

"Now, Junia, are you going to tell me whatever it is you are hiding from me because you were not sure about me?"

She seemed embarrassed, so I reassured her.

"It's okay, I understand, you are guarding something very special, but you don't know me from Eve, but I hope you will feel you can trust me now."

She seemed grateful that I had taken it that way, and we hugged. She went to an alcove near the tomb. With great reverence she produced an olive wood box. She opened it, to reveal a bundle of linen cloth.

"This," she said, "is the shroud in which Jesus was buried."

I crossed myself as a shiver ran through me. Helen also crossed herself.

"Mary of Magdala brought this with her to Marseilles. My fear, our fear, is that it will not be safe here as the barbarians come closer. If one of us leaves, our enemies, and we have enemies, will know and may seek to intercept it. Could you two take it with you to Constantinople?"

I was thunderstruck. My reaction was the question why she was asking me, but the answer was the same, that "enemies" knew of the Shroud's existence and who had it, and would be keeping watch. That, she explained, was why we had come so early. Helen nodded.

After that, Mary took us the breaking of the night fast at the Church. It felt strange to be doing something so mundane after what we had just seen, and what Helen and Junia had done; but such is life. As we finished eating, I was told that Merlin was outside and needed to talk to me. Apologising, I left Helen and Junia to their conversation.

Merlin seemed agitated.

"I am not going into one of your places of worship," he explained, "but we shall need to be going, and I want to know what you and Junia are up to before I make arrangements."

I had no choice; I lied.

"She wants me to take messages to Christians in Constantinople along with some money. Are we going that far?"

He looked at me. I was rather hoping he'd take the view that as I had looked him in the eye and answered straight away, he'd believe me; he seemed to do so.

"There could be an advantage, and in any event, the Roman capital is a place which I have always wished to see, so yes. In that case, we shall go in the morning. I have business which needs my attention, so I shall see you later; don't get into trouble."

"I don't suppose you'll share what it is with me?"

"You don't suppose right", he joked, and strode off. Well, I reflected, it was only fair I guessed, it was not as though I had been honest with him.

As I walked back to the Church, Fr Martin came out.

"Carwen, I hear from Junia that you will do as we need. Thank God. Come with me and let me explain."

At last someone was going to explain. As we walked the water-front and he explained, much became clear. There was, he said, a Christian movement which took the view that we could work our own salvation, that Divine Grace could be earned. From our conversation the other evening, and from the credentials I had from Berta, I was not part of it.

"Why should I be?" I asked.

"Because its leader, Pelagius, is a Briton."

Alarmed, I asked:

"But why does that put the Shroud in danger?"

"Pelagius has two reasons for wanting to destroy it. In the first place he and his followers take the view that women are, like Eve, their first mother, temptresses who cause men to forget the celibacy which will make them pure; in the second, they believe that the veneration we accord to sacred relics makes them objects of worship and, like all idols, God commands that they should be destroyed. That the Shroud is guarded by the Sisterhood is a standing affront to the Pelagians. They would, if they knew where it was kept, ensure it was destroyed."

"Why should it be safer In Constantinople? Are there not Pelagians there?" I asked.

"Because the Church in the East respects relics, and the tradition there is one of Grace. We cannot save ourselves, there is nothing but the Grace of God through the sacrifice of Jesus Christ that can save us."

I got that. It was what I believed. It was the first time I had heard that the East was different.

"Is that because it is closer to the Holy Land?"

"All sorts of reasons, Carwen, but it would be wise, I think, for you to take a detour via Numidia where the most formidable of Pelagius' opponents lives. Bishop Augustine of Hippo will be a useful ally, and I suspect your friend Merlin may have his own reasons for wanting to go there."

As it happened, Fr Martin was right. There were regular grain ships between Marseilles and Russicadia, which was the main port of the Imperial Province, and Merlin had indeed secured us a berth. He seemed as unsurprised by my lack of surprise as I was by his. As Helen said, it was as though our parallel agenda could be pursued together without either of us actually revealing what we were after.

The night before we left Marseilles, Helen explained that she wanted to be with Junia, but that if I wished to watch again, I was most welcome. I told her I would happily let them be together, but if it added to their pleasure, I should be equally happy to be there. Helen smiled and said she would prefer the latter.

Watching Helen and Junia embrace and kiss posed a dilemma. How could I fit in and not ruin it for them? I did not have to wait long for a solution to occur. Junia lay back, naked, on the couch. Helen's hands were kneading her tits, which made Junia moan, and made my cunt wet. As she crouched lower so that her lips could suck on Julia's lips and clit, she spread her legs, which meant I could see her dark star hole and her bush; that was it.

Divesting myself of my tunic, I crawled behind her, gripping her firm arse cheeks and pulling them apart. My tongue's tip teased her puckered hole, making it pulsate. I lavished more saliva on it, slowly pushing into her. I could feel her shudder and hear Junia moan. I slid my hand between her thighs to find her cunt; it was dripping. I felt her push back, forcing my fingers into her wetness. She was warm and wet, I could hear her squelch. As I pressed my tongue into her arsehole, I increased the strength of my finger-fucking. My tongue could feel my fingers through the thin wall of flesh.

Suddenly I felt Helen begin to quiver, my fingers felt her cunt muscles begin to clench as she pushed back. Then I heard Junia cum, and as she came, so did Helen, her arsehole expelling my probing tongue, which was free to lap up the nectar expelled from her needy cunt as it gripped my fingers tightly. It was a moment to savour.

I pulled out slowly, letting her cunt relax, and followed her onto the couch as she lay next to Junia. I snuggled in next to her, as she embraced us both. My hand caressed her left breast, as Junia caressed its twin on the right. We clearly both had the same idea, as we turned on our sides so that while one hand could tease Helen's nipple, the other could cup her sex. Junia's hand entwined with mine before she moved down to impale Helen on her fingers, leaving me to play with her clit.

A pleasure shared is one doubled, at least where sex is concerned. With two different women playing with her, Helen, whose arms were confined by the fact they were round us, was helpless. The sounds coming from her gooey cunt were confirmation of what I could feel as her body shook with passion. Raising ourselves on one elbow, Junia and I smiled at each other across Helen's writhing body. With a common understanding, we nodded before each biting a nipple. I spanked Helen's clit hard three times, as Junia's fingers worked her cunt frantically. It was all too much. As I spanked her clit for the fourth time, Helen came again.

As she lay there between us, Junia and I leaned in together across her sweat bedewed body and she fed me her gooey fingers, which I sucked slowly, tasting the fruits of Helen's passion. She pulled herself up, straddling Helen's tummy, then pulled me up so that I faced her, my wetness pressing into Helen's face.

As Helen's tongue began to lap and massage my cunt, moaning, I reached across to suck Junia's nipples and slid my hand between her thighs. I rubbed her clit as Helen sucked on mine, driving me wild with passion. I had held back while Helen had her two shattering orgasms, and Junia came, but now, as I bit Juiia's nipples and Helen sucked in my clit, it was time to abandon all restraint. Gripping Helen's head tightly between my thighs, I pressed my cunt into her face and came, hard, gushing onto her. Junia came as I did, and then, for the third time, so did Helen, whose clit Junia had been fingering. We collapsed.

I was vaguely aware of cuddling up with Helen and Junia on the couch, and awoke hours later to find myself nuzzling Helen's breasts as Junia was spooning her. It was one of those moments which I wished would never end. Human happiness is so fleeting, but even the memory of that moment brings back to me the pleasure that we can give, each to the other. Love is of God, and whatever Augustine believes, the sex drive is not divorced from love.

Just as Pelagius is wrong to think we can come to salvation by obeying all God's laws, so his great opponent, Augustine to think that sex is in itself wrong and a sign of the Fall. Ironically, worlds apart though they are on salvation, they both in their own way come to the conclusion that sex between women is sinful. Struggle though some of us have to contrest this unlikely alliance, I fear that in a church where men alone have Apostolic power, the male view will prevail, despite what we brought from Numidia and Lesbos. History will be written by the victor. Who will write her story?

Such thoughts were vanquished by sleep, but they recurred to me in the morning's early light. Because I could read, and understood Latin, I had been one of the few who had actually read the Scriptures which Fr Gregory quoted. It had long seemed to me that there was a disconnect, almost as though there were two Gods. There was the one in the old Jewish books, who, frankly seemed a nasty man, vengeful and ruthless. The there was Jesus, who was God and who preached love and who wanted justice for the poor and the downtrodden. The further I travelled the clearer it was becoming that there were questions to be answered.

As we set off from Marseilles on a fine summer's morning, the excitement I felt managed, for a moment, to postpone my sea-sickness. In my sack was a sacred relic. I clutched it close, and mirabile dictu, the sickness did not come. Merlin, who had been telling Helen to get ready to tend to me, looked amazed.

"You have at last found your sea legs. It's a miracle!"

And so it was.