Chapter 20

Artemus Meets Yarrl

“Everything’s ready. I’ve created a passageway to the time you’ll enter. After a couple of busy signals the connection’s been established. Be ready to step through the doorway when I tell you everything is in alignment.” Punky was all business now.

“I have projected into your mind an image of your destination.”

“Where did you get the image?” I know I ask too many questions, but I want to know everything.

“We have databases of image frames from throughout history. They’re stored in the galactic library and serve as textures for quantum foam building blocks. The insertion process for the coordinates is the difficult part. But never mind that now, close your eyes and look for the image as I adjust it.”

I stood in front of the doorway. His fingers moved a tiny bit and I closed my eyes.

“We’re close now, the time and place coordinates are embedded. When the image is clear, you must step in. You’ll be transported in an instant by forces on the other side.

“Here goes, John. You’re needed in Alexandria, Egypt, in the year of the lord 415. You’ll be called Artemus, one who is a follower. And so shall you be.”

It was totally dark, then I distinguished some light areas and the image became a street scene. “I see the Pharos Lighthouse.”

“Move forward, and good luck to you.” Punky sent me on my way.

“Thank you.” I stepped through the doorway.

The image became complete darkness, and it felt like I was floating. Then the light returned. The whole trip had happened in an instant and I stood in the middle of a wide street. Straight ahead beyond the rooftops I could see the magnificent Pharos Lighthouse. The late afternoon sun was on my left.

I was in Alexandria on a street lined with plain stone buildings, one of the seven wonders of the ancient world directly ahead. I took a moment to let that realization flow through my being. The air was soft and golden and I could smell the sea air. Overhead, seagulls railed at each other on their way to the docks.

I walked straight toward the lighthouse until I saw a commotion ahead. It appeared to be a violent struggle. Three men dressed in dark robes were attacking another man. Although I was in a strange place and knew no one, I couldn’t abide an unfair fight. Maybe this is why I’m here, I thought, as I glanced around and spied a board about the size of a baseball bat propped against a building. I grabbed it and moved quickly toward the group.

As I got closer, one who wore a dark-robe fell to the ground and didn’t move again. Soon I could see he was no longer a threat.

Another turned toward me, but he was too slow. I hit him across the upper chest with the board. He fell unconscious, and would be in pain after he woke up. Soon after, the third was subdued by the intended victim. Daylight had faded, but I could see that those who wore dark robes were dressed like some of the desert monks who lived near Alexandria.

The intended victim wore a pale tunic, maybe linen. He held a small dagger, and as he turned toward me we made eye contact. I dropped my weapon and held up my hands to let him know I was not a threat.

Then I held out my right hand for a handshake. I’d read that was an ancient signal that no harm would come from me. As we came face to face, he looked like the man in those visions I had in the library and my kitchen; but it was too dark to be sure.

So all that must have meant something; this was in no way like a vision.

“Hello, I’m Yarrl. Thank you for your help just now; I’m glad you came along.” He’d straightened up, made a quick swipe across his tunic and sheathed his dagger. We shook hands.

“Pleased to meet you, I’m Artemus. Glad I could help, I just arrived this afternoon on a ship from Hispania.”

“Thank you, Artemus, that was pretty rough just now. Can you join me for food and drink?” Yarrl’s voice sounded sincere. “Then come to stay the night and meet my family in the morning.”

“I will and thank you. It’s been a long day and I’m starving.” As we walked, he told me we were headed to his favorite hangout, the Horse Head Inn.

“A lot of us from the library and university go to the Inn. We feel safe there and can find out what’s happened that day in the streets. As you saw tonight, the streets aren’t safe; so be careful whenever you go out.” Yarrl’s face was set, his voice firm. “There will be people unknown to me at the Inn; some might be spies from the Church. And rumors are all over that the Goths are about to invade. People say that’s why the Roman garrison outside town has been built up. So we need to be careful where we sit and how loud we talk.”

“I had no idea so much was going on when I got off the ship today,” I gave him a wry smile. “We have to be careful also in Tarraco, where I work in the library.”

“Seems to be the way of the Roman world; there’s always something. We try our best to keep up.” He changed the subject as we walked faster. “I have to tell you about the guy who owns this Inn. A real character, he’s a big Greek called Kallias. He wears bear claws around his neck and, in truth, looks like a Goth. Sometimes he’s loud and funny; but I’ve heard him in serious arguments, seen him resort to fisticuffs.

“And here’s the kicker, he claims he’s from a long line of librarians and the first of his clan to work outside the library. Once he told me the big library tables in the tavern had come through family connections; but I’m not so sure. And he likes to joke about how he chose to make an honest living outside the birdcage of the Muses.” We laughed at that.

“I know Kallias often sells information to the highest bidder, which makes him a kind of freelance librarian; but I do not much trust him.”

Yarrl stopped before a massive wooden door that looked like oak. It must have been imported. Above the door, Horse Head Inn was incised on a plank a little below the carved horse that looked down on us. Inside, a small entry area opened onto a huge room with chiseled stone walls lit by candles overhead. The roof was held up by several large tree trunks.

The place was crowded; but we spotted an empty table in one corner and headed toward it. Almost everyone here seemed to know and like Yarrl. Several hollered at him and some motioned for us to sit with them; but we kept going and chose to sit on benches at a heavy wood table away from the crowd. It might have been one of those so-called library tables.

There was enough light here for me to decide that Yarrl was young, maybe mid-20s. His light brown skin, thick, dark blonde hair and brows over light blue eyes fit with the Greek heritage he’d claimed in that codex I read. It suddenly hit me where I was and who I was talking to. The man from my visions was also the author of the codex Alexi sent me. And now he was a real person across the table from me. I don’t know how, but my new self and life already seemed ordinary.

Everything had happened so naturally. I guess the whole operation was set up and carried out by Punky who is surely a select, first-rate sort of being. I should have known it would be like this. Fifth century gnostic philosophy tells us we’re all divine creatures. I should keep that in mind. I wondered what would happen next. I felt no fear or uncertainty; this place was familiar, as if I belonged here in this time. Punky did say I’d been here before.

I’m sure I’ll never be able to anticipate or understand the ways of the universe; but now I knew it would take care of me and help me with whatever I’m supposed to do. Maybe Punky had gifted me with confidence in myself and my mission with this active beginning. I decided to relax, follow my intuition and allow everything to unfold as it will.

Yarrl was looking all around. I thought he might be nervous because of the street fight. A girl ran over to him, took our order for ale and food, and hurried back to the kitchen. Yarrl began to ask me about myself; but I managed to turn the conversation around as I asked him about the fight.

“Who were they, Yarrl? Why did they attack you?”

“From their dress, Artemus, I’m sure they were Christian monks; part of a large group controlled by Cyril who’s the Bishop of Alexandria. The monks live in a monastery in the Nitrian Desert, southeast of here. Cyril summons them to terrorize the city and kill his enemies. He plans to get rid of everyone who doesn’t adhere to his version of Church orthodoxy. He wants revenge and complete control and has the Emperor’s full support.”

“I thought Christian monks in the desert were peaceful. Why would they attack you?”

“It’s a long story that began a long time ago,” Yarrl spoke slowly. He could probably tell me more about this time in history than I could ever read in books.

“For the past three hundred years, Christians have suffered under Roman emperors. So now, as Rome becomes weaker, Bishop Cyril and his followers aim to become more powerful. He’s an extremist, the opposite of Origen who was a great unifier in the past. Cyril’s organization is strong and grows bigger; and it’s all sanctioned by the Emperor who allows him to impose his religious views on others and suppress all ideas and teachings contrary to his own.” I could tell he was much distressed.

“Now Cyril sends the Nitrian monks to attack and kill citizens of Alexandria.” He stopped to catch his breath. “They enforce all his decrees and doctrinal writings, and serve as his army of vengeance against all non-Christians; especially Jews and pagans.

We both knew the violence in his city would not disappear, so we left that subject for more pleasant conversation and a delicious meal of sausage, potatoes, beans with a slab of coarsely-ground wheat bread and mulsum, a red, honeyed wine.

It must have been after midnight when we left the Inn and walked back to Yarrl’s home which turned out to be in the Serapeum Temple-Library complex. I wondered what it meant that Hypatia was my host here and hoped I’d get to meet her.

 NEXT.....Chapter 21
Five for Breakfast