In the Heart of Darkness(92)
To prove his point, several of the wives made faces at him. To his greater chagrin, their husbands laughed.
"You see?" he complained. "Already they—"
The Empress began to cut him off, but her voice was overridden by another.
"Damn you for Satan's fools!"
The entire crowd was stunned into silence by that voice.
"He does that so well, don't you think?" murmured Cassian.
The Voice stalked into the room from a door to the side.
The elders shrank back. The young grenadiers behind them, and their wives, bowed their heads. Even Theodora, seated high on her throne, found it hard not to bend before that figure.
That hawk. That desert bird of prey.
Michael of Macedonia thrust his beak into the face of the complaining elder.
"You are wiser than Christ, then?" he demanded. "More certain of God's will than his very Son?"
The elder trembled with fear. As well he might. In the stretches of the Monophysite Syrian countryside, the rulings of orthodox councils meant nothing. Even the tongs and instruments of inquisitors were scorned. But nobody scoffed at holy men. The ascetic monks of the desert, in the eyes of common folk, were the true saints of God. Spoke with God's own voice.
Michael of Macedonia had but to say the word, and the elder's own villagers would stone him.
When Michael finally transferred his pitiless eyes away, the elder almost collapsed from relief.
His fellows, now, shrank from that raptor gaze.
"You are on the very lip of the Pit," said Michael. Softly, but his words penetrated every corner of the room. "Be silent."
He turned, faced the grenadiers and their wives.
"I give these young men my blessing," he announced. "And my blessing to their wives, as well. Especially to their wives, for they have just proved themselves the most faithful of women."
He stared back at the elders. Stonily:
"You will so inform the people. In all the villages. Publicly."
The elders' heads bobbed like corks in a shaken tub.
"You will inform them of something else, as well," he commanded. The monk now faced the Empress, and Antonina standing by her side.
He prostrated himself. Behind him, the peasants gasped.
"God in Heaven," whispered Cassian into Antonina's ear, "he's never done that in his life." The Bishop was almost gasping himself. "It's why he's refused all the many invitations to Constantinople. He'd have to prostrate himself before the Emperor, or stand in open rebellion."
Michael rose. The peasants' murmurs died down.
"I have had a vision," he announced.
Utter silence, now.
The monk pointed to the Empress. Then, to Antonina.
"God has sent them to us, as he sent Mary Magdalene."
He turned, and began leaving. Halfway to the door, he stopped and bestowed a last gaze upon the elders.
The hawk, promising the hares:
"Beware, Pharisees."
He was gone.
Sittas puffed out his cheeks.
"Well, that's that," he pronounced. "Signed, sealed, and delivered."
He bent down to Theodora.
"And now, Your Majesty, with your permission?"
Theodora nodded.
Sittas stepped forward, facing the grenadiers. Spread his heavy arms. Beamed, like a hog in heaven.
"This calls for a drink!" he bellowed. "The casks await us outside! Your fellows—all the villagers—have already started the celebration! While we, poor souls"—a hot-eyed boar glared at the cowering elders, baring his tusks—"were forced to quell our thirst."
Once a village elder, always a village elder.
"The expense," complained one.
"We'll be ruined," whined another.
Sittas drove them down.
"Nothing to fear, you fools! I'm a rich man. I'll pay for it all!"
"I'm not sure I can handle this much longer," muttered Theodora, watching the eager peasants pour from the room. "One more miracle and I'm a dead woman, for sure."
She shook her head. "Talismans from God. Messengers from the future. Magic weapons. New armies. Women commanders. Saints walking about."
Grump. "And now—Sittas, with generous pockets. What next?" she demanded. "What next? Talking horses? Stars falling from the sky?"
She rose. "Come," she commanded. "We should join our new army in a toast to their success. Quickly. Before the wine turns into water."
Three days later, early in the morning, the Empress departed the estate.
Unhappy woman.
"You're sure this is your tamest beast?" she demanded.