The First Protector

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Ma'el Report. Day 112,586. local calendar date 309 AD…

The return to Rome three Earth centuries after my previous visit has proved to be both a comfort and a disappointment. The violence and excesses are reduced in volume and their practice has become less overt, but the subsequent events including the death of Nero, last of the once proud family of Caesar to hold the position of Emperor, did not come about exactly as I had foreseen. There can be little doubt that my precognitive faculty has become untrustworthy and, considering my complete misreading of the outcome of the sea raid off Finisterre among other incidents, the possibility exists that I may be regressing toward the avatus state and losing it entirely. I dread being like these creatures around me who can see ahead only in the dimensions of space but not through time.

"In an effort to discover the reason for this, I have subjected my entire sensorium and memory network to a full empathic inventory and feel sure that I have uncovered the problem. Regrettably the solution, if adopted, will destroy the objective worth of this investigation, and there is a strong probability that it could bring about the premature termination of my own life as well as those of my servants, who are becoming much more to me than two subjects for study out of this worlds' many billions.

"The lives of Sinead and Declan are short enough as they are…"

–

Talking incessantly in a respectful near-whisper, and with his enormous body bent almost double, Klum'bgaa led the way through a seemingly endless system of low-ceilinged tunnels. He was being, closely followed in silence by Ma'el, with Sinead and Declan, who were each weighed down with a large bundle of torches, bringing up the rear. In spite of its softness the Nubian's voice came back clearly to Declan.

They passed the last resting places of countless martyrs. The majority of them were narrow, horizontal niches in the rock walls containing the dusty, cloth-wrapped bones of their nameless occupants while a few were beautifully and elaborately decorated. Klum'bgaa said very little about them because, he insisted, there were too many here who were now wearing martyrs' crowns in Heaven for a few to be given preferment. Instead he kept trying to discover, in a respectful and roundabout fashion that the diplomat spy Brian would have admired, why a foreigner was wanting so badly to visit this hallowed ground. When they paused briefly to rekindle a fresh torch from the dying flame of an old one, Ma'el answered him.

"I am interested in the beliefs of others," he said, "and especially those who fear the pains of dying, as all of you do, but not death itself because they believe it to be but a curtain through which they will pass to a better life. I am not Christian and believe nothing. But I am interested in hearing the reason why so many of you believe in such a strange and illogical thing. Can you explain the thinking and proofs on which it is based?"

Klum'bgaa shook his head. "My master can introduce you to men more learned than I who will explain or debate these matters with you. He might even arrange an audience with Constantine, who is a firm and just man who has a mind, my master says, that has no closed doors. It is expected, or perhaps it is only a hope, that he will become the first Christian Emperor. But I myself can tell you only of stories and sacred writings that have been handed down to us for three centuries, and others that come from even further in the past. But I have no proof of their truth, only a strong belief that they are true.

"But three centuries ago," he went on, "there was only one Christian and many who became merely interested. Now there are many Christians. Perhaps in time you will become one of them."

In the light of the newly lit torch Ma'el's expression was as unreadable as ever. He said, "As a foreteller of the future I cannot see such an extraordinary event ever taking place where one of ray people is concerned. This part of the tunnel is familiar to me. Please turn into the opening on the right."

"Please reconsider, Master," said Klum'bgaa in a worried voice. 'That is a steeply descending tunnel which has not been used in living memory and perhaps for centuries. It has sustained many rock falls, there are noxious odors and the water seepage is…"

"There is no danger," Ma'el broke in gently, making a complicated, fluid gesture with one hand. "The noxious vapors are gone and the sound of dripping water is silent. You may pass the torch to Declan and await our return while we investigate…"

"I am not afraid!" the Nubian broke in. "At least not for myself. I was charged to guide you in safety, but if you insist on taking risks then I must take them also."

Ma'el inclined his head and a moment later they were following Klum'bgaa into the descending tunnel.

Declan had never been happy in confined spaces and the time that followed was a waking nightmare for him. Not only was he choked and blinded by the smoke from the torch, the tunnel floor was covered by fallen rock so deep in places that they were forced to scramble over it on hands and knees. The smoke could not disguise the stale smell of the air around them and the torch flame was reflected in glistening red patches of wetness from the uneven ceiling. He thought of turning back, but the second thought of what Sinead, who was less than two paces ahead of him, would say about that made him go on.

She was climbing over a loose pile of rocks and had put up a hand to the ceiling to steady herself when she made a sudden, surprised sound.

"What's wrong?" said Declan. "Did you cut yourself?"

"No," she replied in a perplexed voice. "This area of rock above me. It's shining and looks wet but it is completely dry to the touch. The whole ceiling ahead seems to be the same. Feel it for yourself as you move past."

Declan did so and found that the surface was dry, hard, smooth and with no flaking or traces of rock dust around it. Suddenly a childhood memory, one of the few pleasant ones, came back to him.

"I remember being shown a very small rock like this," he said excitedly, "by a visitor to my father. He told me it was a piece of melted stone from a volcano. But there are no volcanoes under Rome…"

He broke off because suddenly the tunnel had opened into a chamber that was just high enough for them to stand upright and so large that the torchlight did not reach to its farther walls. The floor was clear of rubble and the ceiling reflected back the torchlight as if from the black ripples on a pool that had been frozen into immobility. The quiet voice of Ma'el seemed to fill the chamber.

"Stay together and move around the walls until you have located all of the torch supports," he said. "Sinead, Declan, place one of the spare torches in position after Klum'bgaa lights them. Look around for signs of cracking or subsidence in the ceiling or walls of the main chamber and those opening off it, and if you find any report them to me at once."

With torches burning at intervals around its walls and reflecting bright, uneven highlights from the rippled ceiling, the size of the chamber became clearly apparent as did the fact that there was no supporting structure other than at its bordering walls. No wonder, Declan thought, Ma'el wanted them to look for evidence of a ceiling collapse.

There were a few long and very low tables in the middle of the room with even lower stools grouped around them, and small platters and cups crudely fashioned from clay and wooden utensils to the same diminutive scale were scattered across the top surfaces. Some of them still contained scraps of food that had been rendered rock hard by the passage of time. Scattered across the tables and on the floor around them were small blocks of wood in the shapes of cubes, triangles, rectangles, and long pegs, with a few pieces that had been roughly carved into human shape. When Sinead lifted one of them, a piece of cloth encircling its waist fell away in scraps of dusty fiber.

"Master, I see no signs of rock falls here," she said, waving her free hand around her. "But this furniture: a few pieces are adult-sized, and all these small tables and stools and the childrens' playthings scattered about. What kind of catacomb was this?"

Before Ma'el could answer her, a low, moaning cry came from one of the side chambers. Quickly they followed the sound to its source. The voice was barely recognisable as that of Klum'bgaa. He was standing before a wall painting that was partially hidden by his body, but as soon as they entered he dropped to his knees before Ma'el.

"Master, Lord," he said, bowing his head almost to the ground, "or are you an angel? Should I have recognized you? I am but a sinner and unworthy of a visitation from on high, but you have only to command me and I shall…"

"Please stand before me, Klum'bgaa," Ma'el broke in gently, "and do not distress yourself. I am not an angel and I am certainly not your Lord, nor are you mine to command."

The Nubian climbed to his feet, doubt showing on every line of his dark face as he turned and moved his torch closer to light the picture that covered most of the wall behind him. Faded with age because it had been executed in charcoal and a few colored pigments, it showed upward of thirty very young children standing, sitting, or playing around a tall figure in a dark cloak, the cowl of which had fallen backward to reveal a shining, hairless head and a cast of features that were unmistakable. Sketched faintly in the background were a few adult women who appeared to be caring for the children. The artist had given the tall man a halo.

"There are stories told of secret places like this," said Klum'bgaa, looking as if he wanted to go down on his knees again, "that date back to Nero's persecution of the Christians. Few remember the stories that were passed down to us, and nowadays fewer believe them, of a place cut out of the living rock by an angel sent by God. It was a sanctuary for little children whose parents were martyred in the arena. They were hidden here until they could be moved to foster homes in the city or country. But that…" he pointed unsteadily with the torch at the tall, cloaked figure, "… Master, that is you"

They were all staring silently at Ma'el and waiting for a reply that did not come. Declan began a shiver that turned into an irritated shake of his shoulders, and spoke quickly so that he would not have time to think.

"It is not him!" he said harshly to the Nubian. "Think, man, and stop trying to frighten us. The event shown in the picture happened three centuries ago. Ma'el is frail and bald and ancient in years, but he cannot possibly be as old as that. We are seeing a person skilled in the magical arts as is our master, one of his countrymen, no doubt, who was…"

"Who was as kind and gentle as our master himself is," Sinead joined in. "Well do I know of his aversion to needless suffering and death, particularly where a helpless and deeply troubled near-child like myself was concerned. It may well be that his people are also magicians and as kindly as he, but he is not your God."

Glad of her support for reasons that he did not himself understand, Declan gave Sinead a grateful look and returned his attention to the old man. But Ma'el merely looked back at them for a moment, inclined his head and, as was his way when he did not wish to answer questions, ignored the subject.

"This chamber remains structurally intact," he said, "and may be used for my present purpose. If you are willing, friend Klum'bgaa, there is an important task that you may be able to do for me. You will have to talk widely but with discretion among all those who know and trust you. I have an urgent need for young women to be enticed into coming here. Many young women."

The Nubian looked as surprised as Declan was feeling, but it was clear that the other was still not sure who or what Ma'el was and he might be thinking that his faith was being tested.

"It will be done, master," he replied without hesitation, "but how many young women and how much time can you give me?"

"I can give you five, perhaps six weeks," Ma'el replied, "before I have to leave Rome. In the beginning I realize that it will be difficult, perhaps personally embarrassing for you, to convince the early ones to come. But with your perseverance, more and more of them will come until this place will be filled to capacity, after which there will be a gradual diminishing of numbers before my departure. Without telling them what it is, you must interest them in what I am doing while not making extravagant claims about me or what you think I will be doing for them. I am not starting a new religion, nor will I try to change or influence any beliefs they may already hold.

"The females should be young, married, or of marriageable age," he went on, "and include as many non-Italian races as possible. I want representatives from all of the European races, those from as far south as Nubia and, if any are presently visiting the city, young women from the Orient.

"Assure them that they need not fear for the welfare of their bodies or their souls," he continued. "They will not have to do anything but listen to me and perform simple, mental exercises while I perform a laying-on of hands. All they will be asked to do is to accept a gift from me which they and a few of their children, and a few of their childrens' children to the end of time, may be able to use to avoid future harm."

Ma'el lowered his eyes to look at the floor, and for a long moment the silence was so complete that the sputtering of their torches seemed loud. Then he raised them again to look directly at Sinead.

'This gift," he said quietly, "is also for you."