We headed down the busiest street, people shouting from the sides at us to buy fish, clothing, and fruit. After of few blocks an enormous church that looked like a fortress that could hold off ten thousand barbarians came into view.
Some teenagers ran past us yelling about the gladiators that would be at the Coliseum that afternoon and Telle said, “I didn’t realize they still did that. The cruelties that people will inflict on others for amusement is amazing. I don’t understand those people. I don’t know why they allow it in a Christian country.”
I joked, “If you see the Emperor while we’re in town you can ask him that.” We headed into the church. I met with Brother Donavan and showed him my rule. While he was looking it over Telle asked if he could go out to find something to eat since we were going to be a while. I agreed since I was going to be busy for a long time. I knew he would be excited about seeing Rome, who wouldn’t be? I was glad to be able to see her again after all this time.
I waited as Brother Donavan read my text, he asked me about specific points of the rule. I had everything planned out in my mind so it was easy for me to relate what I meant. I was responding to one of these questions when a clerk of some sort burst into the room.
He said, “A monk is causing a disturbance at the Coliseum and we think it might your companion.”
My anger overtook me for a few seconds before I could respond. I went out with him and asked for details.
He said, “The monk went to the fights and because enraged, he tried to push his way down to the ring. That is when they sent for me.”
I said, “I hope he’s OK. He knows better that to do that.” Luckily we weren’t far from the Coliseum so it didn’t take long to get there. We could hear the angry crowd yelling obscenities at him; I thought I could make out his voice, calling, “In the name of God stop this cruelty.”
I saw a man wearing a white toga walk out of the exit and picked up a stone. I yelled, “What are you doing?” But he wouldn’t answer me, and soon other men in togas came out to pick up stones. A soldier at the entrance held up his spear in from of me to prevent me from entering, he wasn’t preventing the men from going into the Coliseum with stones. The solider was dressed above his probable rank to impress the crowds, he wore an iron breastplate and a red robe, and his eyes were on fire.
I yelled, “They’re going to kill him, the soldier looked as if he wasn’t going to let me pass, but then lowered his spear, but the fire in his eyes was still there. He was probably as mad as the rest of them that Telle interrupted the games.
I ran into the Coliseum and saw Telle there in the middle shouting, “In the name of God stop this.” Blood ran down his side and a few rocks were scattered around him. He ducked and another rock grazed his head, a small patch of blood smeared his face. A rock hit him from behind, is looked like it pushed his shoulder out of place. I tried to grab rocks out of the hands of the people around me, but the Coliseum was too large for me to do very much good. When they stopped throwing the rocks I looked back and there he laid, a lake of blood surrounding his body, rocks that looked like islands sticking up from the blood.
I ran to the wall surrounding the arena but I wasn’t sure how to get down, or how he had managed to. A soldier took me around to the gate at the bottom and I looked at him. He was certainly dead.
#
The priest considered the old monk’s words, then he said, “Emperor Honorius has heard of the story and I think the gladiatorial games will be put to a stop. He wants to talk to you, but I think it is all but assured that they will end immediately. All gladiatorial events have been cancelled until he makes a final decision.”
The old monk nodded, “It looks like Telemachus’ last prayer was indeed answered, but at a horrible price.”
Notes
I try and stick to the facts and add details that would be historically realistic to give the story a richer flavor, but in Telemachus’ instance I have added much more to the story then I usually do. The only person mentioned in the ancient text was Telemachus himself and I have added all the events on to the trip to Rome. In the ancient text it says he was from Asia Minor and was a monk, but no other details are given about who he was. It seems likely that a man who would run into a gladiator’s arena would be young and rash, but these are speculations. Also it is not specified what arena he disrupted, but it is assumed that the Coliseum would be the most likely place for it to have an effect on the whole empire. The date of the last gladiatorial fight is given as January 1 404 AD, so this is when it is assumed that he died.
Immortal Stars
The French were marching towards Ignatius beyond the walls of the city, and he was ready for them. The young officer wished that this could be like the romantic books that had lifted his mood so many times when he was feeling lost and insignificant. Ignatius dreamed of dismounting an enemy officer with a lance, but he knew that modern warfare was no longer fought in that manner. Still, he longed to see the French army approaching the city, but all he could observe in the damp night air was an army of stars and the many bricks on the walls of the fortress.
The stars shone dimly, not bright enough to light your way, but eternally. And Polaris, the North Star, led voyagers along a true course when it could be seen, and it would be there long after Ignatius’ bones were dust. The moon barely lit the city of Pamplona or the garrison which Ignatius defended. The moon would not reveal the enemy which was he was to fight tomorrow; they would have to remain faceless for a few hours more.
#
The day had brought French soldiers into the city, but Ignatius wasn’t able to see them after all, the Spanish had to keep behind the walls to avoid cannon fire. The ground seemed to shake, bricks fell from the walls, and soldiers ran around. Cerrito, a soldier dressed in bright blue tunic with white sleeves and multi-colored pants, crouched up at the top of the wall, trying to find a target for his musket. Cerrito eyed beyond the wall, but came back down next to Ignatius.
Cerrito said, “The French are too far away for me to have any chance of hitting them. We do not stand a chance against those cannons.”
Ignatius said, “Do not fear, I believe we should keep our honor, and perhaps we will be able to stand against the French.”
Cerrito said, “I do not hold out hope as you do. I have been ordered by the captain to look at the enemy and report back to him if the situation was a hopeless as it seemed. He then ordered me to gather the officers into the captain’s room, so be there in twenty minutes.”
Ignatius said, “I will be there.”
#
The meeting was held in a dirty gray-brown room forty feet wide by thirty. Officers sat around a large oak table, most wore armor and billowing hats. The arm coverings were of all different colors, some matching but some contrasting their hats. Two pike men stood guard by the door, their uniform was entirely red and fit loosely on them. Torches lit the room poorly, and black stains of soot marked the wall behind each.
The captain, whose full body armor glinted even in the poor light, stood and said, “Since we are not fortunate enough to have cannons, and since we cannot fight these dogs back, I think we should surrender immediately. I want your opinions.”
Ignatius stood and said, “I think that we have to keep in mind our honor. We have to make a stand and not cower before our enemies. If we were to let them take our city without a fight then they will report back to all of France that Spain only has cowards in its army. We have to stay until the death.”
The captain took a step back and asked, “Is this how you all feel?”
The officers shouted almost in unison, “No.”
One of the older officers stood and said, “I can understand why the young man speaks as he does. In the mind of utopian youth honor must not give way to anything. But in the real world we have to make compromises. When I became a soldier I knew I might have to risk my life to be able to have a chance at taking an enemy life, but when I cannot have that encouragement I don’t see th
e reason to risk it.”
The captain nodded his head and asked, “Is this how you all feel?”
The officers shouted “Yes.”
Ignatius said, “If you do not want to defend this fortress until your deaths I can understand that, but please listen to me. We should at least defend it until we can no longer. Then we can say that at least we have done something. It will bring us all of the honor that defeat can to an army. Perhaps if we defend it long enough reinforcements will arrive or the enemy will choose to fight us like men – face to face.”
The officer was silent for a moment and then said, “I think you have made a better point now than you did earlier, we will stay until the walls start to fall and we can defend the fortress no longer.”
Ignatius filed out with the other officers. He heard a few low grumbles from some of them, and none of them looked him in the eye.
#
Ignatius waited as the cannon balls rocked the walls of the garrison back and forth. His ears shrieked in pain with each bombardment. He knew that with each strike the wall became weaker along with his hope. He had thought perhaps reinforcements would come, or the enemy would think this an ignoble fight and challenge them to fight on closer quarters, but he was starting to think that this wouldn’t happen. Ignatius thought, perhaps the other officers were right. But honor was worth something; didn’t all of the old knights think so?
The sun shone down and the pounding continued. Ignatius’ back started to ache. He tried to reposition himself, but it was more than a cramp, all of his muscles were wound tighter than a length of rope. Mortar turned into dust with each cannon ball, and it was like a thick fog in the air taking the color and life out of the world. Ignatius coughed and covered his mouth. It seemed like someone called to him, but with his coughing he couldn’t make out what was being said. Ignatius held the coughing in for a few seconds.
Ignatius heard a man say, “Move, that section of the wall is about to give way.”
Ignatius shuffled to his feet, the dust made the ground slippery, but he got a hold and started to move away when he heard a noise louder than any he had heard and then one of his legs was in absolute agony. He cried out and clawed through the bricks with his hands. Soldier’s reached out for him and he was dragged away as consciousness faded from him.
#
Ignatius had undergone three surgeries in the previous month since he had been hit by the falling wall. His leg had been stretched to try and make it as long as his undamaged one. The pain was starting to subside, but he was nowhere near being able to walk. Ignatius was going to take a long time to heal fully.
The French had treated him respectfully and he was now in one of his family’s castles not far from Pamplona. June’s heat swelled outside and only a small window offered breeze. The stark white room held few pieces of furniture, only a small desk that Ignatius could write letters at when he felt better and a hard bed. A cross, a picture of the Virgin Mary, and a picture of Saint Peter adorned the walls.
A short, plump nun that had been acting as Ignatius’ nurse came in and asked, “How are you feeling today?”
Ignatius said, “I am feeling better today sister, but I would like to read something to keep my mind off of my pain and this awful heat. Are there any books of knights errant I could read?”
The nun said, “No, I’m afraid that the only books we have here are a few religious texts.”
Ignatius frowned, “I’m not sure that will take my mind off of my suffering like a good story, but I think it will be profitable to read something, so when you get a chance, could you bring one or two of them to me?”
The nun smiled and said, “Of course, I will bring them to you at once.”
Ignatius lay back in his bed and wondered if there was a fair woman out there in the real world that he might save one day. She would be second in virtue only to the Virgin Mary. He wished he could ride his horse out in search for her, spearing goblins in the dark valleys that lay between them. Ignatius would then ride over the plains to a great tower where he would see a vision of loveliness in an upper window. She would drop a handkerchief and it would drift down, but before Ignatius would be able to take it, a dark figure would seize it. The knight would be wearing armor as black as his soul, and riding a matching horse. Ignatius would raise his glinting sword and bring it down on the scoundrel’s head, freeing his noble woman. Ignatius had dreamed these medieval dreams over and over again.
#
Over the next few months he recovered and read a few of the nun’s books. Medieval dreams still came to him during both night and day, but now he began to consider the weight of his immortal soul. Ignatius felt the presence of good and evil spirits around him, and one night he had a very different vision.
Ignatius lay in his bed one night unable to sleep. He felt a strong presence of love in the room with him and he looked up. An apparition appeared to him, whether it was real or a figment of his imagination it is not for me to say, but nothing was more real to Ignatius. A woman held a child in her arms, a golden glow radiated from her illuminating the room. Ignatius recognized the woman as Mother Mary and the child was the baby Jesus. The sins seemed to wash away from him and hope grew in the knowledge of the love of God. The holy pair was gone in a few seconds, but they would never be gone from his heart again.
#
The ideas that had been forming in Ignatius’ head regarding his own salvation had taken a definite form and he was ready to be the best Christian that he could be. He would fight the heretics and any demons that Satan would sent his way. He had read that a true Christian was to either make a pilgrimage to Jerusalem or to physically mistreat his body in reparation for sins. Ignatius’ plan was to do both.
His mule strode along the gently sloping road in the heat of summer, kicking up dust. Ignatius had met a moor (the Islamic invaders that still frequented Spain even after they had been deprived of their political power) and was in conversation with the man.
The moor rode a horse dappled in grey, while the man himself was dressed in flowing white robes and a turban. The moor said, “I can believe that the mother of Jesus was a virgin when conceived, but I don’t see how she still could be a virgin after she gave birth to Jesus.”
Ignatius said, “The Church plainly teaches that Mary was a virgin all of her life. It makes no difference when Jesus was born, she was still a virgin.”
The moor said, “Well my friend, I can see that we won’t come to an agreement on this subject. We are still where we were when we started. I will wish you a fair journey.”
Ignatius said, “But if you would just listen to me…” But it was to no avail the moor had ridden off. Ignatius thought about the insult to the Virgin Mary, and the more he thought about it the madder he got. Then he remembered a year ago when he had stayed at an inn and a fellow there had said that he had killed a moor for making a blasphemous comment. Ignatius thought would I be right to kill the man for his words? Ignatius looked ahead and spied a fork in the road, one that the moor had told him about when giving directions. The moor told him to turn at the fork, but he himself had taken the other way. Ignatius decided that he would let the mule choose. If the mule took the path to the village, then he would go there and spare the life of the moor, but if the mule followed him then he would kill him.
Ignatius dropped the reins and let the mule go where he wanted. The mule plodded straight ahead which happened to spare the life of the moor. Ignatius prayed, thanking God for the sign. Over the next hill he spied a huge rock almost as large as a mountain. It rose sharply out of the gentle slopes of the plains, the far side surrounded by a river. The monastery that Ignatius planned to go to sat halfway up the rock.
He rode up the steep trail around bends and curves until he came to a flat place up on the rock. The monastery lay on the level place, a picture of the Virgin Mary adorned its walls in which she was sunburned from her flight to Egypt. The monastery was one humble story of gray stone. Ignatius could see far away int
o the plains surrounding the rock. The smell of pine hung in the air, it was going to be a great day.
Ignatius found an aged monk within the walls whose blue eyes sat above a short nose. He told the monk, “I have been a sinner all for all of my life and now I want to confess everything to you. But first I want to make sure I have not forgotten anything so I need a place to write my confession down.
The monk nodded and led Ignatius down poorly lit corridors to a sparse room with barely space to write or breathe. The monk asked, “Is this satisfactory? I see from your dress that you are a gentleman and I know you are probably used to better accommodations, but this is all humble monks can provide.”
Ignatius said, “I have enjoyed many rich things in my life, but I am forsaking them from now on and devoting myself to Christ and his work. I will no longer be a soldier for the King, but for the Church. These accommodations then are more than satisfactory.”
The monk left, and Ignatius started to write. He wanted to be complete in his list and so it took him three days to complete it.
At the end of the three days he sent for the monk, who listened to his confession.
When the confession made and the penance preformed, Ignatius said, “I have realized that I have been motivated many times by desires of the flesh, so I am taking a vow of chastity. I have also been motivated by ambition and worldly honor, so I dedicate myself to a life of poverty.”
The monk said, “These are noble ideas, but they are hard to accomplish. I wish you the best in your obtainment of them.”
Ignatius said, “I want the monastery to have all of my worldly possessions. I rode a mule here and that is yours, I have some coins in my purse, and they are for the poor sinners. I only want a pilgrim’s dress of sackcloth, a staff, and a gourd. You can sell my fancy clothes to support the monastery.”