by Cody W Urban
Illias couldn’t contain his excitement any longer, having been a part of bringing a prophetic dream to fruition and witnessing answered prayers around this strong, strange man. He cheered by jumping up, clapping, and declaring “Hallelujah!”
3
I’m not one to second-guess what angels have to say,
But this is such a strange way to save the world.
The next day, the three companions booked passage on a ferry that traveled up the Xanthos River to Nicholas’s hometown of Patara. From there they followed, on foot, a rivulet that branched from the Xanthos to a waterfall into a lush green grotto. There is nothing like returning home; life moves on there without you, people forget about you, the next generations could care less of the deeds done by their predecessors, and beside it all, one feels elation for the surmounting nostalgia—only it was exceedingly bittersweet for Nicholas. This location was the very spot his father taught him how to pray, and he had a keen idea of where the hidden treasure may lay.
With a pulley lashed to a bough, Nicholas, Pete, and Lysander hoisted a heavy chest up from a grotto to the green grass from where it had been hidden behind the falling water.
“You have changed, Nicholas,” Lysander said as he heaved the rope. “From Quartermaster to Norse Adventurer, and now you’ve donned a target on your head as dissenting religious leader. The Empire eats bishops!”
“‘Tis a guise by day, Lysander,” Nicholas said, beginning to explain his forming plan. “One that has its benefits on acquiring information.”
“So, it is a farce?” Lysander asked, partly feeling relieved that his friend hadn’t turned into some spiritual nut overnight. But the more he considered it, Deborah, the woman he loved whom he had left long ago, was a believer. He had known little about her faith, yet he held inkling toward believing it, and he figured it would be wise to advise his friend further. “What a sin this looks to be. Not only are you lying, but prevaricating as a religious leader. If there is a God, I’m sure he’s very pleased,” he said sarcastically.
Nicholas was too set in his mind to heed the cautious words from Lysander. He could use his assistance, but he didn’t want to argue with him. He needn’t prove himself to him. He continued reeling up the rope until the chest fell onto the ground with a heavy thud. Nicholas opened it slowly, savoring the moment of reconnecting with inherited wealth that his parents had earned. Golden light began to seep from within the chest as they popped up the lid. The delight that met their eyes when it was fully open was almost too bright to look at as the afternoon sun shone down with great luminance upon the reflective treasure. What they beheld was a marvel of gold, jewels, and Roman currency. Pete could only gasp, “Wow!” Nicholas knelt down and ran his finger through the coins, almost sensing he was touching his father’s hand once again. Lysander remained silent in awe. Unlike Pete had ever been, he felt he had to break the silence in his youthful admiration of the riches before him. “Lo! How very rich your parents had been! There’s more here than I could dream!”
In that youthful enthusiasm he moved about gaily until his foot slipped on the moist grass at the brink of the grotto, and just as he slipped, sure to fall over thirty feet into a rocky pool below, Nicholas caught him. “I beg you, Pete, take care.”
Pete grabbed his hand and as he steadied, he replied, “Thank you, Father.” The expression surprised both of them. Nicholas had never before been called “Father” and was shocked to hear an alternate title escape the lips of the ex-slave.
“Not ‘master’ anymore, young Pete?” he asked warmly.
Pete smiled and replied, “Nay. Ere I had no designation for you. I have found a more suitable title to call ye now. Father Nicholas.” He said the end of his sentence giving Nicholas a warm hug. Nicholas smiled, pleased with this change, but was not sure whether Pete called him thus because it was customary to call a priestly person a “Father” or had the young orphan now adopted Nicholas as his personal father. He would leave the situation to rest, though his gut sank with dread for the expected responsibilities the boy may now have for his perceived parent.
The three loaded the riches into poor-looking, shabby saddlebags on Sleipnir’s back and put the rest into their garments. As they traveled back through Patara, Nicholas donned his Bishop’s robe again to appear like a priest (who was typically not a wealthy person) with two poor travelers, one tall and tough with a brandished sword, a bizarre beast of burden, and a wolf. It was their hope that nobody would think them to be a wealthy group, and if they had the notion, they wouldn’t dare seek to find out.
The next day they arrived back in the church at Myra and went into the back room that was made to be Nicholas’s quarters. “Believe this, I cannot,” Lysander said as they lugged the laden sacks through a curtain and began to place them behind the bed, “that your uncle kept this from you.”
“If I spent the whole of my life thinking it was already gone,” Nicholas said with a sigh, “he must have hoped when it was in my possession, I wouldn’t covet it. Verily, I have lived the whole of my life in a state of poverty and have seen more wonders than most have ever dreamed. Wealth is but a burden, property only makes slaves of its owners. No, this is still not for me. There is a world of need out there, and within my homeland is one man who grieves the populace so. I will put this gold to the efforts of undoing the immoral injustice he has wrought upon Lycia.”
“Father!” said Bedros as he poked his head through the curtain. At that surprise, Lysander and Pete crammed more sacks behind the bed right away. “What activity are you doing?”
“What is it ye came for, Bedros?” Nicholas asked, already taking an authoritative tone in his voice.
“A man has come urgently seeking our new Bishop,” he replied, expectant of Nicholas to rid himself of his companions and take to the duties that were before him.
Nicholas nodded and left the back room and went to the main sanctuary, where he had his coronation, and found Tassos, a rugged man in poor clothing and stocky build, pacing back and forth while gazing at a cross at the altar. “You wished to see me?” Nicholas asked. The man turned and rushed to Nicholas.
“Bishop!” Tassos said with a raspy voice. “I have come to you to intercede on my behalf to God...” he said, starting to choke on welling up emotion. “On behalf of my three daughters.”
Nicholas patted the man’s shoulder and guided him to sit down. “I pray, good sir, tell me all about it.”
“Oh, ‘tis a glad day that Myra has you, Bishop. This matter has been troubling me for a long time, and it has been steadily worsening, you see,” he said. Then he took a breath and formed the words in his mind. “I am a humble working man, driven to poverty by the heavy taxes Governor Vasilis has imposed. And heavier still unto believers of the Way. My daughters are coming of age, and I have not the dowry for them. Though they each have a suitor. Too oft, as of late, have young girls become prostitutes and I’d rather be blind or dead, than see that become of... my dear ones.”
It had always annoyed Nicholas how common society accepted the role of women as property. When a man married a woman, he was from that point expected to take care of her in all costs. For that reason, fathers were expected to provide a dowry unto his daughter’s suitors to offset the groom’s expenses. This man, a single parent, now had three daughters of about marrying age and had no way to marry them off. Nicholas rejected this custom, but understood that it was a part of current life and was deeply concerned for the needs of this man.
“Then, I will pray, my brother,” Nicholas instructed. “Pray God will send one who would aid you in your strife.”
Tassos then presented a monetary offering for the prayers. Nicholas said there was no need, for if he couldn’t afford to support his children, why should he donate an offering? But Tassos insisted and gave a coin to Nicholas. Nicholas accepted, bade him farewell, then after he left, Nicholas followed the man in secret until he discovered where he lived. He had learned that it was often God’s plan for people to tit
he the income He had granted them as a test of faith and would then multiply the money and return it to them as a blessing. Not considering himself God, of course, he felt he would act out that divine plan of returning a multiplied version of the offering.
That night Nicholas pulled out his red Elven cloak, tightened a leather belt around his waist, put on his boots, sheathed his sword, put on his bow and arrows, and pulled his hood just low enough over his face that only his bearded chin could be seen on his face.
“Father, you look readied for battle,” remarked Pete as Nicholas went to mount Sleipnir.
“I am,” he replied and then hopped on his reindeer’s back, not interested in explaining himself. He galloped off swiftly into the night. He knew wearing the sword, bow, and quiver was possibly a little excessive, but he was not sure what he would meet in Lycian nights. And it was true; he was going to battle. He was headstrong to combat the wrongs.
After riding into a shadowy area where not even the moon lit, Nicholas dismounted his reindeer and waved his hand as a command for him to stay. He then approached the dark house where Tassos and his three girls slept. He tried the door, thinking it was worth a shot, and found it barred as expected. He then looked around and saw the high windows, designed for the lofty ceilings of most Lycian homes where smoke rose and drifted through the gaps open at the top of the window shutters. Fortunately, in a shack beside his home, Tassos kept a wood ladder and Nicholas used it to scale the wall. He silently crept through the opening in the shutters.
It was darker within, for being summertime, there was no need for a fire. Nicholas waited in the darkness for his eyes to adjust until he figured he was in the common room. He surveyed the scene and then made his way for one of two doors and there he found a single bed with a snoring massive gray lump in it. He then made his quiet way into the other room, sure to be the girls’ room.
Nicholas slowly entered the girls’ room and looked about, seeing all three asleep in their beds. Into a shoe, Nicholas placed a small bag of coins that made a jingle sound upon placement. He paused hearing one of the girl’s toss in her bed, but soon her breathing returned to normal and the slumber maintained. After sighing in relief he moved on. Into another shoe he placed the second pouch. Then, after looking around a bit, it wasn’t easy for him to find the third girl’s shoes anywhere. For some fun reason he wanted the girls to wake up like it was a typical day and when they would slip into their shoes, they would discover an extraordinary gift. Then he saw a pair of wool stockings hanging beside her bed and figured that was as good a place as any and he put the little sack of coins into one stocking.
After feeling a warm delight in the deed he had accomplished, he remembered that he still needed to sneak out of there. He stepped out through the doorway and upon a noisy creak in the floor. One of the little girls, named Nellis, woke up and said with a fright, “Who is there?”
Not letting the chilling sensation of being caught breaking into somebody’s home take hold of him, he replied, “A friend,” in a calm hushed voice.
“What business have ye in my bedroom at this late hour? Are you a burglar?”
“I bid you, be still. You have nothing to fear. Sleep and have a good night young one. I am no burglar,” Nicholas said with the tone of a loving parent and with that he used his techniques of swift stealth movement and rushed up through the window, dropped down outside, mounted Sleipnir and rode off. He hadn’t traveled outside of earshot of the home when he slowed to a leisurely canter and began to hear stirring and shouting coming from within. He stopped his steed, to listen.
“Father! Father, come quick!” shouted Nellis, as the other two girls were roused with annoyance.
Holding a lit candle, Tassos rushed in and asked, “Why all the bedlam?” He quickly lit a few other candles as Nellis tried to explain what had happened.
“A stranger! A stranger has come this night and he stood in our room. I fear—“ she was saying when her younger sister, Mona, began to shout a cheer for finding something in her shoe.
“Look! What have I found?” she shouted as she opened the pouch and poured a small fountain of gold coins from it.
The sight almost knocked Tassos to his knees. “And your stranger left this?”
Before Mona could answer, Mindy, the youngest of the three, began to exclaim, “I have one as well!” Nellis went right away to searching her shoes, hidden more properly put away under her bed, and found nothing within. She at first began to lament how she must have scared the stranger from leaving his gift before he had a chance to place coins in her shoe as well.
“This is a miracle!” Tassos declared, grabbing Mindy’s hand and looking at the coins with her. He then turned to Nellis and saw her glum face. “Nellis, this was a gift to our family. Because you personally did not receive-“ he was saying until sight of a lump in her hanging stocking caught his attention.
When Nellis caught his stare she noticed the lump too and grabbed it and upon feeling metal disks sliding against each other within, she knew instantly she too received a marvelous present. And when she poured it out, Tassos felt on the verge of joyful weeping. Then Mona, looking out the window, caught sight of a cherry-clad stranger upon a strange horse and shouted, “Behold, out the window! A scarlet rider has come in the night!”
Tassos gazed out the window and saw the rider and became overcome by a deep profound worship and thanksgiving and said, “The blessing from God has come to save my daughters. A blessing clad in crimson who sneaks in the darkness. Unlike any thief, he leaves gifts rather than steals them.”
From where he halted Sleipnir, he could see the girl wave to him, he waved back and then took off into the darkness. Chills surged through his body. Triumph filled his mind. The dark deeds of Vasilis and Roman taxes has brought a father of three adorable girls to near ruin. In one act of charity, Nicholas undid such potential atrocity. And what he loved about it was that nobody knew it was he. By cover of night, his charitable activities would be least noticed by powers bent on thwarting him. By doing it secretly, folks would receive what he would grant without the possibility of ungratefully begging further as the children of Kaupang did to him. Now, this way, they would learn to be grateful for their gifts. He would also spare the dignity of men, like Tassos, from publicly accepting handouts. Also, he liked knowing that he wouldn’t receive the credit. He liked thinking that people would give glory to God.
On his ride back home, the ice that he layered over his heart to shield it from the grief he had been stricken with seemed thoroughly melted. The innermost voice was shouting hallelujah! And it occurred to him that this was how he would do it. This was how he would change the world, albeit a rather odd, or unexpected, way of doing it.
4
But he knew the reason,
Love had to reach so far.
It was only a few days later when Nicholas received word from Bedros and Matthias that Nicholas was requested to officiate the weddings of Tassos’ two oldest daughters in months to come. Nicholas then knew he had achieved a victory and naïvely thought this mission of his would be easier than he figured.
Riding through the forest of Lycia to examine a Roman fortress where he hoped to find Vasilis, he was still jubilant for the great work he had done for Tassos. However, as he rode on that dark night, under the waning quarter-moon, he slowed Sleipnir to a trot as though he rode into more than shadowy gloom, but an impious lair. Some unseen force forbade him from proceeding, some sixth sense flared with caution. Before he even had a moment to survey the scene his senses proved correct when two Krampus monsters leapt down from the trees, dismounted him, and slammed him to the ground heavily. The snarling beasts lashed at him, scratching his arm and pummeling him. Nicholas, being taken unaware and at first in shock at sight of them, found himself vulnerable. To his rescue, Sleipnir struck one away with his hooves, giving Nicholas a chance to stand, draw his sword, and then strike back. His fight was far more advanced under the tutelage of his Norse friends, and using his sword
he fended them off with far more excellent skill than his skirmish with these fiends in Alfheim.
The Krampus swung a barbed chain, which Nicholas narrowly dodged by somersaulting away. With agility he evaded the swinging chain and the spiked club of both monsters before finding an opportune moment to slash his blade into the throat of one brute, slaying the creature. The other Krampus whipped him, his cloak not ripping, but his flesh bruising beneath. Nicholas, in a fury, wrapped his arm around the chain, keeping his enemy from lashing it, and then sliced its hand. Though the Krampus lost grip of the chain, it swiftly clutched a large branch from the ground and struck Nicholas's back, breaking the thick limb on his shoulders.
Nicholas buckled, surely too winded to fight for the moment, and Sleipnir defended him, using his antlers to keep the Krampus at bay. Nicholas fumbled in his pockets and finally drew a piece of mistletoe and held it out toward the swarthy demonic beast. The Krampus flashed a vile frown and with a tremendous bound, leapt into the trees and swung away about its boughs.
Nicholas was too sore to even think long on what had just befallen him and used all the strength he had left to climb onto Sleipnir and collapsed. It certainly was his theory that Vasilis had a hand in their presence in Lycia, but it was a mystery—and he also knew his loathing of Vasilis biased his theory to link the two into some sinister scheme without any due cause. Why were they present? Were they after him or did he happen to stumble into them as they were about the business of some iniquitous plot their primeval savage minds concocted? Nicholas felt clueless and dangerously injured.
