Doctor Who_ Byzantium! Part 20

The depression that had seized the Doctor in its stranglehold after the discovery that the TARDIS was missing took several days to lift, despite his determination in the face of Hebron's illness not to wallow in the depths of self-pity. The Doctor knew that life could have dealt him a much worse fate; knew that there were worse places to be stranded and alone than first-century Earth in a tropical climate.

But, as ever, the wanderer in him champed at the bit of freedom. His feet itched and he longed to have the ability to travel to far and distant worlds and increase his knowledge of the universe and how it worked. If he had wanted to locate in one place, a mute observer of the pa.s.sage of time, then he could have stayed on his home planet where time had less meaning and revolved at its own pace.

They had little time for revolutions in the realm of the Lords of Time.

That idea, in itself, had depressed the Doctor enough to flee his roots.

And now, he found himself in a situation of stunning similarity.

Only, this time, he had nowhere to run to.

After a further burst of switching locations, the Christians finally settled for a longer period in a cave close to the peak of one of the Byheomentalah hills. Byzantium, in the distance, still glistened like a jewel, but now the Doctor had to strain his eyes to see the city's details. It was fading, like the pa.s.sing of a memory, first into a half-remembered dream state and then, finally, into oblivion.

In the cave next to the one in which James and his followers now found themselves, the Doctor was introduced to three earnest young Christian scribes who lived in this most desolate and isolated of places for much of the year.

The normal peace and quiet, now rudely interrupted, aided their task which was to translate into Greek the mostly Aramaic and Hebrew, and occasional Latin, scrolls and parchments of holy texts that were arriving by the day in Byzantium. They came from Palestine, Antioch and Babylon, in the form of letters from various prophets, sages and priests around the region and beyond.

This was a very new church and, as such, had little in the way of written lore to work from. Thus, anything, even letters from nomadic priests like Peter the fisherman or Paul the gentile were regarded as quasi-sacred texts.

James took the Doctor into the cave where three candles were the only il umination. Spread around the cave floor, in a seemingly haphazard fashion, were dozens of parchments; the trio of scholars sat, their heads bowed, studying with great concentration, the words of the various pages.

Occasionally, one would stop, stand up to stretch his cramped and aching limbs, and walk to the mouth of the cave, blinking in the light like a small rodent emerging from underground. Their skin, as a result of their seclusion, was pale and chalky. They all looked, the Doctor thought, like they could do with some exercise.

'Good scribes,' James announced as they entered the cave. The three men looked up, cross at having been interrupted in their most important of works. When they saw it was James who addressed them, they all stood and bowed their heads in deference. 'I should like to introduce to you the Doctor, a man of great knowledge and learning from overseas.'

The Doctor didn't reply to the half-hearted grunts of acknowledgement that came from the three men.

Reuben, seemingly the eldest and most senior of the group, was also the tallest and easily the most approachable. Thin, almost to the point of emaciation, he, like the others, had thick black hair and a straggly, unkempt beard. Rayhab was smaller and more docile with dull eyes, the colour of mud on a river-bed. Amos, the third scribe, was short and stout, a roly-poly figure with blotchy skin and a squint from working long and tedious hours in near darkness.

'The Doctor may, perhaps, be of some use in your studies,'

said James, who seemed to be hurrying towards the cave exit. The Doctor thought briefly about begging James to take him with him, away from these terminally studious young men and their nasty-looking skin, but he decided that it wouldn't do any harm to stay here for a while and annoy them further.

'So,' said the Doctor as they were left alone, 'tell me what you are working on.'

For a moment, all of the men were silent, as though they had simultaneously lost the power of speech. Then they answered in a rapid series of short and to-the-point replies, one picking up the sentence wherever one of the others had left it.

It was, thought the Doctor, almost as if they shared one gestalt-like mind.

'We are attempting,' Reuben began, 'to translate...'

'The rough notes, in Hebrew and Aramaic,' continued Amos.

Of the prophet and scribe Mark of Jerusalem,' added Rayhab.

as told to him by G.o.d, and through the mouths of the divine apostles Paul of Tarsus and Peter of Galilee.'

'And,' said Amos, 'brought back from Babylon by James months past.'

Into a Greek gospel, gospel, that will complement the work of the disciple Matthew the tax-gatherer,' concluded Reuben. that will complement the work of the disciple Matthew the tax-gatherer,' concluded Reuben.

Amos, however, added one final thought. 'Only we we have the knowledge to do this.' have the knowledge to do this.'

The others give him a sly and rather pleased corner-of-the-eye glance.

If there was one thing that really annoyed the Doctor it was hubris in all its forms. 'Knowledge is not the province of arrogance, gentlemen,' he said dismissively. 'It is a gift, a wonder of enlightenment.' He paused and gave the three scribes his most charming smile. 'May I be permitted to have a look at your work thus far?'

Marcus Lanilla arrived back at his villa following a particularly long and tedious day, spent firstly in the company of a group of pathetic and whining centurions who could all, Marcus had decided, have done with a good flogging to settle their grievances. This was followed by an hour torturing several Zealot prisoners, including one who had offered (before he died, screaming) a likely location as to the whereabouts of Basellas and his gang of murdering savages. However, when Marcus and a heavily armed retinue of guards had arrived at the house mentioned, it had been occupied only by an aged couple and their young grandson. And, despite applying much painful coercion to all three, no information had been forthcoming about Basellas, Ephraim,Yewhe and the rest.

With a dull ache in his head, Marcus had returned to the barracks and signed some execution orders to calm himself.

He had tried to find one of the other tribunes, to a.s.suage the doubts in his mind about the plots and schemes that had come to the attention of Calaphilus, a nagging and persuasive voice that he could not shake.

But Fabius and Honorius Annora and Edius Flavia were all engaged on different matters and it was impossible to talk to any of them. Finally, with his mind and his stomach in a turmoil, Marcus had left the barracks and headed for home.

The villa was in virtual darkness, the only light coming from candles in the Atrium. Marcus strode into the central courtyard and looked around, sniffing the perfumes and oils in the air eagerly. 'Come out, she-devil, and take that which is coming to you.' he shouted into the darkness.

Agrinella emerged, naked, bathed in the soft glow of the candlelight.

'I've been waiting for you for so long, my heart,' she said, sullenly. I thought that you would never come.'

'Get on your knees before me,' Marcus commanded, sneeringly.

Agrinella, willingly, complied.

Stroking her hair, Marcus took a long look at his wife's delicate body. His hand brushed against her cheek and he felt her shiver at his touch.

'You are cold, my heart,' she said, cradling his hand in her own. 'You require warmth to take the chill from your bones.'

The tribune said nothing. But actions spoke louder than words as the back of his hand rubbed the skin of Agrinella's face. She moved to stand and Marcus helped her up until their eyes were level. Lips met, skin on skin, tongue on tongue.

Marcus moved his head to the right and his mouth slid down Agrinella's throat to her neck. His teeth sank into the bare flesh, drawing blood. Agrinella moaned, softly, and grabbed the hair at the back of Marcus's head in both hands, tugging at it.

They dropped to the floor, bodies flailing, limbs entwined.

Marcus licked the blood from Agrinella as it dripped down her neck to her breast. Her hands went to his side, and then further, clawing at his garments, and pushing them from his back.

As they rolled across the floor, Marcus's leg struck the base of one of the bronze candle-holders and the contraption swayed and fell to the floor, hot wax splattering across bare limbs.

Agrinella sat bolt upright, flicking the wax from the skin of her legs.

'I am burning,' she told Marcus, but her husband didn't seem interested.

Kneeling astride her, Marcus looked at the now-solidified candle wax, and then at his wife's flushed face.

'When I have finished with this city, many will drown in boiling wax,' he said.

Agrinella believed him.

Despite himself, the Doctor was becoming fascinated with the opportunity to see the gospel of Mark in such an unedited state. And, despite the unbearable temptation to make fun of the scholarly and serious trio of Reuben, Rayhab and Amos, the Doctor had begun to look upon his presence here as a chance to observe history (and important history at that) in the making.

Forget the Aztecs, or the French Revolution, or Marco Polo. Or the terrible events of the Pa.s.schendaele. The Doctor had been at Dunkirk. sailed around the Caribbean in a pirate galleon and had watched the a.s.sa.s.sination of President McKinley, but they were nothing compared to this - the writing of one of the most significant and well-known pieces of literature in the history of mankind.

It was the equivalent of collaborating with Shakespeare between draft one and draft two of Hamlet. Hamlet.

The Doctor was almost humbled by the thought.

Almost, but not quite.

Because he had had collaborated with Shakespeare between draft one and draft two of collaborated with Shakespeare between draft one and draft two of Hamlet. Hamlet.

'These notes are very rough and ready,' he said after a brief scan of some of the scrolls that the scribes had yet to look at.

'The handwriting is almost illegible.'

'They were mostly written in Rome while Mark and Paul were under house arrest,' noted Amos. 'It is hardly surprising.

The rest of the scrolls were completed last year in Babylon, when Mark finally found Peter.'

The Doctor knew he would probably regret asking, but one question kept nagging away at him. 'Who, exactly, was...

sorry, is is this scribe Mark?' this scribe Mark?'

a cousin of the prophet Barnabas,' replied Amos. 'He was just a boy when the disciples held meetings with the Christ at the home of Mark's mother in Jerusalem. He tried to save the Christ's life when they were all betrayed by Judas and Jesus was arrested at Geths.e.m.e.ne. Mark escaped from the gardens and hid in the family home for many months. Eventually, with the disciples scattered across Judaea and in hiding, Barnabas, who was teaching in Antioch, was sent as an emissary to Tarsus, to the home of the recently converted Paul, he that was Saul. Barnabas brought Paul back to Jerusalem because the church needed a figurehead around whom it could spread the word.'

after a brief time in Jerusalem, they coaxed Mark from hiding and set out on the first of their missionary journeys,'

Rayhab added, helpfully. 'But there was friction between them during this time. That was when Barnabas and Mark went to Cyprus. It was all a nonsense and was later settled to the satisfaction of all parties.'

Oh good,' said the Doctor, sarcastically. 'I do so love a happy ending.'

'They received a very mixed reception whereinsoever they went,' continued Reuben. 'On such occasions as, with the will of the Christ, they were seen to perform miraculous cures, they were treated as avatars-incarnate.'

'But,' added Amos, 'such teachings as they offered caused great offence to the h.e.l.lenistic Jews and, especially, to the hated Zealots.'

'They were often chased out of town and survived only by the skin of their teeth,' Rayhab added.

'They founded churches in Galatia, Corinth and the Areopagus in Athens,' continued Reuben. 'They stayed for more than two years at Ephesus, building a Christian community, and it was there that Mark started his writings, based on his personal knowledge of the early days, and on the stories he was hearing from Paul and Barnabas.'

'He was a journalist, in other words,' noted the Doctor, approvingly. He had read accounts of the cross-empire journeys of Paul, Mark, Timothy and the rest. He had always considered them to be a collection of quasi-fairy tales with only the most narrow basis in reality. Now, he wasn't so sure. and this would be, what, about ten years ago? Hmm?'

'Yes,' confirmed Amos. 'Then they returned to Jerusalem, but Paul's enemies provoked a riot when he tried to preach at the temple and he was arrested and tried before a Roman court in Caesarea.'

'But,' the Doctor added, 'because he was a Roman citizen, he could appeal directly to the emperor. So they sailed to Rome, surviving a shipwreck near Malta. And Paul, while still under house arrest, continued to preach until last year when he was either freed and now resides in Miletus, or executed in the Circus of Nero, depending on which version you believe.'

Rayhab was surprised by the Doctor's apparent cynicism.

'Paul is is alive. We believe in the truth,' he said. 'In the word of the Christ, and of G.o.d himself.' alive. We believe in the truth,' he said. 'In the word of the Christ, and of G.o.d himself.'

'I find the origins of the Christian church fascinating,' the Doctor said defensively. 'How a minor sub-cult of Judaism could spread so quickly. Jesus of Nazareth only died thirty years ago and already you have churches in most of the major population centres. In an age where ma.s.s communications involve somebody shouting from up a mountain, or writing a letter, that's quite impressive, even I am willing to admit.'

'That was why Paul was needed,' Reuben admitted. 'Peter and the rest could preach to the Jews and converted many.

And there were others within the movement who had free access into other territories like Thrace. But which Roman or other gentile would listen to Peter, or Philip, or John? Paul was essential to the mission.'

'An intercontinental public relations official,' the Doctor noted. 'The Damascus conversion was needed to turn Christianity from a Jewish cult into something altogether more complicated.'

'We needed to speak unto the nations,' Amos noted.

'Because of what was being done to us by the Jews in our own Iand. You have heard tell of Stephen, perhaps?' asked Amos.

'Yes. Stoned to death for blasphemy, poor chap. Your first martyr.'

'Would that there was another way,' Reuben continued.

'He was a friend of mine. And of James and Daniel. After that, that, Jerusalem was no longer safe for any of us. The only way in which we could survive was by taking our church out into the nations.' Jerusalem was no longer safe for any of us. The only way in which we could survive was by taking our church out into the nations.'

'The prophets, John and Peter and Philip and the rest, all preached in Samaria. A very very dangerous place,' Rayhab said. dangerous place,' Rayhab said.

'They all healed and resurrected, as the Christ had before them. The Jewish Christians eventually dispersed northwards to escape the oppression in Jerusalem from the Zealots. They followed the apostles into areas in which they had begun to make conversions. Hence, we are here in Byzantium.'

The Doctor nodded, wisely. 'Your people have suffered many hardships and trials in your quest to spread your good news. You have my sympathy if not my devotions.'