The End of Things Ch. 15: Kirill

The following morning marked a formal caesura. Merlin was far from happy that I was staying, all but accusing me of betraying "our cause."

I looked at him.

I had known him all my life. He had been an old man when my father was young. He knew so much. I understood his impatience, and even his disappointment; but the time for some home truths had come.

"Merlin, you have what you came for, and with it, you can help my father and brothers to do what men do well, which is fight to defend those weaker than themselves against the threat of other men. But I am not a man, Merlin. That world is your world. This world is mine and I need time to explore it."

Hypatia looked at me. I thought there was a glint in her eye; but maybe it was the sunlight?

"It may be, Carwen, that time here is what you need. But you will return to Britannia,"

"I hope so."

"You mistake my meaning, Carwen, you WILL return!"

Many is the time those words have haunted me these past few months. And now I have the news that the ship will dock today, I can breathe a sigh of relief. He was right. He was right about too much.

"But that," Merlin said, "is for another day." Turing to Hypatia, he said, "the all-seeing Eye sees what it sees, and for us, lady, this is farewell."

"It may be," Sage, "if so, may the Eye be with you and help you see what is needed. Thank you for helping Carwen to find this place."

"The thanks are mine. But do not expect what you do expect."

With that, typically gnomic remark, the old wizard turned on his heel and left.

Hypatia and I looked at each other.

"Right, let us get on with the things of women, Carwen!"

That was the beginning of the happiest time of my life; from it I feed to this day.

Stumpy swiftly found her place with the Guard, with whom Bella became a firm favourite. It did my hear good to see them both find a place where they could flourish. For me, too, there was a sense of being in the right place.

Hypatia's scribe saw me most afternoons when I would tell her all that I could about Britannia. My mind went back to that long path along the estuary, to the wall of Garrianonum and to my mother, father, and brothers. But much as such thoughts kindled a sense of absence, they did not fire me with a desire to return. I was happy where I was.

In the mornings I would work with a scribe-mistress who taught me proper penmanship and helped deepen and expand my knowledge of the Greek in which the scriptures were written. Hypatia said I had a talent for it, and before too long I felt comfortable copying some of the old codices. Nor, thanks to Stumpy, did I neglect the physical, spending an hour and more a day at the gymnasium practicing my swordplay and building up my strength. I smiled when I noticed Bella always turned up to watch me in just my short tunic. I loved to give her a quick flash of what was beneath.

The question of when to return to Lesbos with the precious manuscript of Junia's letters was one which much vexed us. It was clear that the parabalani, the armed wing of the Church militant, were patrolling the harbour, mostly looking to ensure that the Roman troops did not levy extra taxes on goods bound for the Church, but also showing who was "in charge." There were constant clashes, and both Kirill and Orestes, the Governor, blamed the other for them. The atmosphere was tense. Hypatia's view was that it was too febrile to attempt to return to the island.

Then there was the question of the Shroud.

One morning, whilst exercising, it came to me that there might be a way of combining our two concerns in a profitable manner. I raised it with Hypatia at dinner that evening.

"Would it be worth my while seeing Kirill? I have letters of introduction from Augustine and would be happy to use one."

"Why would you want to?" Hypatia asked.

"Well, if I were to show him the Shroud and say that as the successor to St Mark, he would be a suitable person to decide its final resting place...?"

Hypatia smiled.

"You are not just a cute face, are you? Tell me your reasoning."

I smiled back. If she did not know that I lusted after her, then I had been doing a bad job of flirting, but I was coming to know her well enough to realise that what really stoked her interest was intelligence.

"Well, from what I can see he is involved in a power-struggle to establish his authority, here, but also in the Church. You are seen by him as part of the Empire, and he dislikes that; I suspect he also has no time for independent women."

Hypatia smiled.

"So far, so good. But where does the Shroud fit in?"

I, and as I am with you, we, have something that might increase his power within the Church, and, in doing so, help him with his struggles here. Were we to do that, he might begin to regard you with more favour. Does that make sense?"

Hypatia looked thoughtful and sent for more wine.

"It might also take some of the pressure off you in regard to Lesbos. If Kirill thinks you are a potential ally, then the risk you take by going to Lesbos is lessened. Let us ponder overnight, and reflect when the sun is up."

I was hoping that she might invite me to stay, but, yet again, she did not.

I was growing frustrated. I did not want to intrude on Bella and Stumpy's happiness, and knew I needed to find my own; but how?

Hypatia summoned me after my morning exercises and agreed that I should make arrangements to see Kirill. I penned a letter to go with Augustine's:

"Your Grace,

I am desirous of an audience with you. I enclose a letter of introduction from the Bishop of Hippo. It is in Latin, but you know its meaning.

In Him.

Carwen of Britannia"

I spent much of the day on tenterhooks, but to no avail.

I dined with Stumpy and Bella, both of whom wanted to know when we could return to Lesbos. I told them of my plan.

"I hear his men are dangerous, Carwen. If he does want to see you, can I go with you as protection?"

I agreed, thanking her profusely.

Then came the reply, first thing in the morning.

"Come to my palace at 10. Come alone. +Kirill"

"Could it have been shorter or curter?" I asked Hypatia.

"He could have said 'no', I suppose. I don't like the idea of your going alone."

"He will have spies watching me," I argued, "so best not provoke him."

"Are you sure?"

"No," I answered honestly, "but I see no alternative."

I took care over my dress. choosing a long tunic which covered my arms. I added a veil.

"How do I look?" I asked Stumpy and Hypatia.

"Like the handmaid of the Lord," Hypatia laughed. "You are astute, Carwen. He will like that."

That, of course, was my hope. We would see.

I arrived, alone, at the palace just before ten. I was met by a monk.

"You are Carwen? Come with me."

I followed him down a long colonnade, to a courtyard. We crossed it and he knocked in a door. It opened. I went in.

He was tall, Kirill, taller than I had imagined. Most Egyptian men were about a foot taller than me, but Kirill was a head taller again. His eyes seemed to drill into me. They were large, black, and probing. His face was like finely chiselled marble, spoiled (in my view) by a long beard. He rose to greet me. I knelt and kissed the ring he proffered me.

"Welcome, Carwen. I see you know how to greet a bishop."

"Yes, your Grace," I said, in what I hoped sounded a suitably submissive voice.

"I like that. Rise. Tell me what brings you from Hypatia's lair to me?"

That was Kirill. He was direct to the point of bluntness, and sometime to the point of rudeness too. He disliked using four words where two would do.

"If I might, your Grace, I would like your permission to take something from my pack here."

He looked at me. Was he suspicious? It was hard to tell.

I slowly drew the shroud in its bag from my pack. I saw him tense.

"What is that? I feel great power in it. What is it?"

There was a sudden urgency in his voice.

"The Shroud in which Our Lord was laid in the tomb."

I spread it carefully on the table.

Kirill stood as one mesmerised. He crossed himself and said a prayer.

"Where, woman, did you get this?"

"At the shrine of Mary of Magdala in Marseilles," I told him.

He was still in something approaching an ecstatic state.

"Can I touch it?"

"Yes," I said.

He touched it. It was though some power passed into him. I saw his face transfigured by a strange light.

"It is. It is."

I left the silence to grow. Kirill was lost in some place where he needed to be. The Shroud was having its effect on him.

Eventually he came back to me and the world around us.

"Why me? What do you want? Sit, please."

I sat.

I explained that I had been asked to get the Shroud to safety. Rome was thought not to be safe, and Constantinople was the preferred destination.

"But I find myself here your Grace, and a mere woman should not make decisions unadvised. You are the successor to St Mark, and I thought you would know what to do."

Kirill's eyes drilled through as though to my soul. But I was good at this, and I played the role I had set myself.

"And what is your price for this?"

"Price, your Grace? Would anyone sell the Lord? I am no Judas. I am a simple handmaid of the Lord."

"Are you now?" And he gave a great, bellowing laugh. "And I am the Queen of Sheba. No, no, Carwen of the Britons, whatever you are, simple is not part of it, and as for being a handmaid, well what better guise could you appear in before me?"

His eyes held mine. I stared back, locking my gaze with his.

I could feel the force of the man. There was an acute intelligence and a will of iron; but there was something else.

Kirill will, I suspect, always divide opinion. Was he a very holy man of high intellect who served his church well, or was he a megalomaniac determined to use every device he could to secure power? The truth was that he was both, and sometimes neither.

When he saw his way clearly, there was no one to match him. But when I first knew him, he was new to his position and under threat. He saw enemies around every pillar, nor was he wrong to see them. His uncle, Theophilus, the previous patriarch, had been grooming him as his successor, but had died unexpectedly. There had been another candidate for the Chair, and though Kirill had triumphed, he had enemies within, as well as without. Not seeing his way clearly, Kirill could, and sometimes did, react without thinking through the consequences.

I smiled sweetly at his comment.

"You don't look like the Queen of Sheba," I replied, hoping humour might help, "but you are the successor of St Mark, this is the Shroud of the Risen Lord, and I am offering it to you. You are also more than shrewd enough to work out why."

He looked a little startled.

"You are no simple handmaid, Carwen, and yes, I can see why you might offer this to me. You have connections with the so-called Junian church I think."

"So-called, your Grace. I do. Why?"

"I do not approve of heresy."

"And what, your Grace, is the heresy it teaches?"

"That women can be priests."

"Let me ask you, your Grace, what was the testimony of a woman worth in Judea in Christ's time?"

"Nothing, of course, as is the case now."

"Answer me this. Why then did the Risen Lord appear first to a woman?"

He looked nonplussed.

"That proves nothing."

"It proves that Our Lord did not think the testimony of a woman was worthless. And, your Grace, are these women preaching any heresy of doctrine?"

He smiled.

"You are, indeed, an intelligent woman and we must, at some point, talk properly. But I will accept this Shroud and, if your wish is that I should look more kindly on Hypatia, I shall, and if you wish to go to and from Lesbos with no interference, you may."

I smiled broadly and kissed his ring.

"Thank you."

I was still shaking when I got back to Hypatia and told her what had happened.

"You did well, Carwen. Kirill will have admired your courage. And you have won us some concessions."

And so, for a while, it seemed.

Indeed, in the immediate aftermath of meeting with Kirill, it was the Romans who gave us most trouble.

I would work with Stumpy and the other Guards most days. From childhood I had been active in helping my father, and given my size, I had always been interested in knowing how to defend myself. With the help of Stumpy and her friends, I became quite adept with the short sword and the slingshot. For me, these daily exercises balanced out my intellectual labours. What I could not have known is that they would save my life.

On Saturdays, Stumpy and some of her friends would go to one of the taverns near the Mouseion, and it became something of a habit. I would go and meet them there after a day's work on manuscripts, glad to give my eyes a break. That Bella found herself part-time employment there added to the allure of the place - and not just for me.

Bella loved flirting innocently with the patrons. Her natural attributes, which included a ready wit and a charming smile, won her many friends and large tips, and she was good at dealing with those men who overstepped the bounds of decency. There were always one or two, and she was good at eluding their gropes, or putting them in their place. It was a skill, one which beautiful women have. I could admire and appreciate it, but had no need of it myself.

Stumpy and her cohort would usually come in about seven in the evening, and that would give me time to relax, and talk with Bella while she bustled about.

Then came the soldiers.

It was an evening in early autumn, not that, in Egypt, you would know that the seasons had changed. There was a new garrison at the Governor's, and they, and the parabalani, Kirill's armed monks, would taunt each other in the streets. At least at the tavern there was no danger of them encountering each other. But they were a rowdy and destabilising element in a situation already unstable enough. They were, I could see, drunk when they arrived.

There were five of them. Big, rough men. Bella went, as usual, to ask what they wanted, and was immediately molested, as one of them relied:

"Your cunt now, bitch!"

Giggling to make light of it, Bella twisted from his grip. She took their orders. I looked over at her. She looked back, making a face.

And there, for a while, it rested. But about half an hour before Stumpy was due, one of the soldiers slid his hand up Bella's tunic as she collected their cups.

"Come on big tits, just a quick one in the alley."

Bella struggled. To my horror I noticed another of the men had gripped her by the hips and was lifting her tunic. She told them to stop. They ignored her.

"The lady said stop!" I went over to the table. They turned and looked.

"Oh you want some cock too do you, kid?"

I looked at the leader. There was only one thing to be done, so I did it.

Using both fists I punched him in the Adam's apple and then, as he grunted, I took my short sword and before his friends could draw theirs, I slashed them across their necks. By the time the two who I had not put out of action had realised what was going on, I had hit one on the head with a heavy jug, and smashed a clay mug into the face of the other.

Bella looked at me.

"Carwen! What?"

At that point, Stumpy arrived.

"Busy, Carwen?"

By that time one of the men whom I had slashed, had reached for his sword, which was a mistake he would not make twice. Stumpy gripped his arm and, twisting it up his back, broke it.

The tavern-keeper came over, fussing.

"They started it," I said, "you need to protect your staff more."

He nodded.

The leader of the soldiers, recovering from my punch, took stock of us and decided not to push whatever was left of his luck.

"Bitches, you'll pay for this."

"If you want to settle this like soldiers, I suggest we meet outside and finish it," Stumpy declared, as the rest of the Guard came into the tavern.

They were in no fit state to meet our challenge, and they left.

I was shaking.

Stumpy looked at me.

"I taught you well. You took them by surprise. Next time you won't, so let's practice how to deal with them tomorrow at the gymnasium."

With the soldiers gone, we settled into a convivial evening.

Walking back to our quarters, Bella came to me.

"Carwen, will you fuck me tonight? Stumpy is fine with it, and well, I want to reward my heroine!"

I was not going to say no to her.

"My room, give me ten when we get there."

Stumpy smiled when we arrived home.

I went back to my room and prepared for Bella.

She came in looking like one of those fertility goddesses the ancient Egyptians worshipped. Her breasts seemed to have a life and will of their own, undulating as she came closer to me, her nipples already puckered and hard for me.

I was naked, and I had fitted the phallus to the harness.

"I am going to take you Bella. Are you going to be my bitch tonight?"

I could see from the little shiver that passed through her that the idea excited her.

"Yes, Miss Carwen. I want you to mate me!"

With that she threw herself on her knees in from of me and began to suck at the phallus.

Her excitement communicated itself to me, and as she sucked and gripped my ass, I felt my own nipple harden. I wanted her.

Pulling her off the phallus, I told her to prepare to be mounted.

"Yes, oh fuck, yes, take me, make me your bitch, Carwen!"

The sight of her raised haunches, her dark star hole winking at me, her swollen pussy pressed up, overwhelmed any sense of pacing things. She wanted to be fucked. I wanted to fuck her.

Centring my phallus so that its head pressed against her gooey entrance, I gripped her hips and eased myself in. As her cunt stretched open, she moaned and pushed back, grunting with satisfaction as I filled her. I pressed in and out, taking her hard, wanting her, making those big tits swing before pushing her into the bed, forcing her to push herself back, her tits pressed into the mattress. I pushed in and out, sweating with the effort, feeling my own pussy leak down my inner thighs.

"Take meeee, fuck meeeeee, please, yes, yes!"

Bella panted, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she pushed herself back on the girl-cock which was glistening with her juices.

Pulling on her hair, I made her arch her back.

I noticed she was now using just her left hand to support herself, the right one was rubbing frantically between her thighs. She moaned ever louder as I fucked her, hard, deep, and long.

She came, came hard, so hard that there was a pool of her nectar below her, which I made her lap up before I would fuck her again.

Bella came three times before I let her satisfy me.

As I lay back, divested of the harness, and let her lick my soaking and swollen pussy, it seemed to me that being her heroine had much to be said for it.