Legends Never Die: Revelations (ch. 89) (Patreon)

It was strange what a person could get used to, I mused as I once more sailed into the port of Constantinople. I made the trip once a month to visit the university, picking up materials or taking lessons from teachers that couldn't or wouldn't sail over to Crete. It had been more than a year since my arrival in the greatest city in the world, and now I found it…

Normal.

The awe that it inspired when I first saw it had waned. Then, I had been convinced that it was the perfect city. A city without flaw, grander than anything else on Midgard. Time had worn away the rose tinted lens I viewed the city with. Time and exposure. I saw the dark crevices in the city that had grown because of neglect. I saw that there were parts of Constantinople that were every bit as ugly and dark as the Hagia Sophia and the Palace were grand.

Which wasn't to say that it still wasn't an incredible sight. The jealousy still burned in my chest, but it had been tempered with ambition. I was learning how to recreate their successes and I was learning from their failures -- just as I was learning from the great men of their history.

My ship lightly bounced against the wooden dock that was available to nobles and I found that Irene had sent forth a palanquin to carry us to the palace under a royal escort. A sizable one, I noted, but I suspected that had more to do with Jasmine than what this meeting was about.

Offering a hand, I helped Jasmine off the ship and I could see her apprehension. She kept it off her face, but after half a year of knowing her, it was when her face was expressionless that she most gave away her feelings. She was rather spoiled for choice on reasons why to be nervous, I could admit. This was the first time that Irene had turned her gaze to Jasmine beyond acknowledging that I had taken her prisoner. The fact that she had been summoned was an unwelcome development made worse by the fact that Rajah had to stay behind on Crete, as a tiger wouldn't be permitted to be in the same room as the Emperor's mother And regent.

Jasmine offered a small, thin, smile as she accepted my hand and stepped into Constantinople for the first time. She was followed by Otto and Astolfo, and once everyone had disembarked, the messenger stepped forward. “Lord Siegfried, we have been instructed to bring you and your companions to Regent Irene's residence,” the man informed. A quick flash of True Sight marked him as neutral, and I didn't detect a lie.

Still, it was interesting that I was the one being addressed. Jasmine went ignored, as did Otto and Astolfo.

“Very well then. Escort us,” I replied, noting that the palanquins were covered. Irene sought to obscure their presence, I realized, sharing a palanquin with Jasmine while Otto and Astolfo got in the other. I wasn't entirely sure it was to prevent any Abbasid spies from acting on the information that Jasmine had left Crete either.

A moment later, we were being carried to the palace and Jasmine looked through the small slits of the walls. “Do you… know why we're here?” Jasmine questioned and I shook my head, making her frown. “I think I'm being insulted,” she noted, glancing at me. “It's improper that we're sharing a space together like this.”

“You might be right about that,” I agreed. We weren't married, yet we were being ushered to share a palanquin together. Irene had to know that my arrival, thus Jasmine's, wouldn't go unnoticed. Meaning word would eventually reach Caliph Harun's ears and by that time, I could only imagine how the rumors would twist themselves into something grotesque. It's a ploy that I could easily see Irene using to provoke the Abbasids into taking a rash action. But, there were better ways to get the same result.

Still, Jasmine looked bothered. “Would you care for some advice on insults from someone who has suffered a great many at the hands of the Romans?” I asked in Arabic, doing what I could to make sure we weren't overheard.

That got a smile out of her and I caught a hint of teeth beneath her veil, “I would be a fool to ignore wisdom from a master of being insulted.”

“There are two kinds of insults -- those that you can ignore and those that you can't.” I said, and Jasmine didn't seem too impressed with my wisdom, so I chuckled and continued. “When I first arrived in this land, there was a man who insulted me. He insulted my clothing, my people, and my wives. All to my face, because he thought I didn't speak his language and I didn't correct him on that assumption. In response, I made a fool out of him by costing him a great deal of money.”

Chares. I didn't think about him much, not anymore. I had no reason to.

“Those insults? I could have ignored them,” I admitted. It hadn't felt that way at the time, but that was my own arrogance speaking. I had just come from Saxony and Norway, where I was treated as a god that walked Midgard, to being insulted. It was a harsh change. “I didn't. I felt like my honor had been besmirched, so I retaliated. In my retaliation, I made an enemy I didn't need to. And, as enemies do, he sought to retaliate against me for making a fool of him by making a fool of me.”

In the end, I suffered far more grievous insults than what I heard from Chares in my time here. In my talks with Otto, I understood the conflict with Chares a little better. I understood revenge a little more.

Jasmine was listening so I continued, “He treated me and Astrid like circus animals at one of his parties under the guise of an invitation to celebrate a holiday. Then one of his kin put his hands on Astrid, and I retaliated by challenging him to a duel. I killed his son and I shattered the jaw of the man who touched my wife.” A small sigh escaped me before I glanced out the slit, watching as the palace drew closer. “Those insults I couldn't ignore, and they had to be answered. There is a difference between honor and pride. At first, Chares insulted my pride but I mistook it for my honor.”

In the end, I was the one responsible for our feud. Chares certainly hadn't helped himself, but looking back on it, I understood that I had been the one that escalated first. Then, upon retaliation, I hadn't stopped until Chares was ruined and hung by the neck until dead.

I hadn't liked the man. I didn't respect him. I very much doubted that we would have gotten along even if I had the opportunity to go back and do things differently. So, I don't particularly regret his death either.

It was just something I reflected on. At the time I had felt like I was the victim in our feud. That hadn't been the case.

Jasmine was silent as I finished, mulling over what I said. “How do I tell the difference?” She asked, and to that, I could only offer an unhelpful shrug.

“In my case? Experience,” I admitted and, to that, Jasmine just shook her head with some amusement. It was better than the nervousness she had carried herself with.

“Then your advice is to be insulted more? Truly, your wisdom is the equal to King Solomon, my lord,” Jasmine replied and I let out a huff of amusement.

“You’ve spent too much time with Morrigan,” I pointed out and Jasmine didn't deny the accusation. And, as if summoned, through the slit of the palanquin I saw the raven that followed us through the city. The bird had grown into itself over the past six months, now able to fly freely. When I gazed upon it with True Sight, it was marked blue, telling me that Morrigan was watching through the raven’s eyes.

It was a brief respite, but the mood grew tense once more as we arrived at the palace. The palanquin opened and we were ushered out and into the open doors, following a guard. Out of the corner of my expanded vision, I paid close attention to the others’ reactions to what was on display -- Astolfo looked every bit as stupefied as I had felt when I first arrived. The Romans certainly knew how to bludgeon you over the head with how obscenely rich they were.

Interestingly, Jasmine barely seemed to register the decorations. It was a reminder that she had grown up a princess, and such sights were common for her. Otto, however, had an almost puzzling reaction. He outright frowned at the wealth on display, seeming almost personally offended by their presence. His complaints, whatever they were, he kept to himself.

We weren't ushered into the throne room, but the room was no less impressive. It resided at the back end of the palace, towards the gardens -- the large double doors swung open, revealing the interior. The floors were inlaid with a mosaic, the walls were covered in the same blue material that the Hagia Sophia was. The roof was a dome, and it was partitioned with stained glass, letting colored light filter through. Before us was a long table that was richly carved, surrounded by marble pillars and in the space between them were servants that each carried an item worthy to pay a king's ransom.

Irene sat at the head of the table, flanked by Aetios and Staurakios. Sitting directly to her side, however, was Patriarch Nicetas. She wore a vibrant purple dress embroidered with golden thread, a crown heavy with jewels, with a scepter in one hand. She was the very image of an Empress, and I was under the impression that's exactly what she was aiming for.

“Welcome, guests from Francia. Lord Siegfried… and Princess Jasmine,” Irene acknowledged, her gaze sliding to each of us. My gaze, however, drifted to Patriarch Nicetas. I didn't even need True Sight to know that man saw me as an enemy. He was openly glaring at me, his face twisted as if he had bitten into something sour, offended by my mere presence. I suppose it was a good thing he was directing his ire at me rather than Jasmine.

I was vaguely aware of him, mostly due to him frequently and loudly demanding that I be executed for being a demon worshiper. Or a godless creature. Or a pagan. He wasn't too picky when it came to why he wanted me dead. So, for that reason alone, I was about as happy to be in the same room with him as he was me.

“You honor us with your presence, Regent Irene,” Otto greeted, bowing his head.

Irene smiled magmanosly, “Be seated at my invitation,” she instructed in Latin and that meant all of us, I reasoned. Servants stepped forward, sliding chairs back for us, and there seemed to me an arranged seating. Jasmine and Otto were seated closer to Irene while Astolfo and I were seated further away. “I was rather surprised to receive a letter from Lord Siegfried, speaking on behalf of a Christian, and a bishop no less. I suspect there's a story there.”

Otto glanced at me and our eyes met for the briefest of seconds. He seemed to understand the message I sent with my eyes and decided to play along.

After all, he was the one who taught me Latin.

“It is something of a story, your majesty. We met when he was but a boy at the start of the Saxon rebellion. I was charged with sanctifying a modest church in a fortress when they attacked. We met officially when I attempted to tackle him when he went to loot a holy cross.” He admitted, and it did me no favors there. But, the slight smile he wore caused more confusion than anything. “He spared my life when he realized I could speak Norse on the condition I teach him Frankish and about the Holy Bible. A curiosity that had yet to wane in him as I hear.”

Patriarch Nicetas was glaring at me openly now while Irene simply looked interested. “I suspect that there is more to it considering how favorably he speaks of you?”

“I was angry for a time, that is true. But I had faith in God and His plan, and I did my best to follow His will. In that time, despite our introduction, I found that while we do not share gods, Siegfried is a good and honorable man. More so than most. His sins are many, but at the same time, he has shown far more mercy and compassion for others than anyone else I can think of in his position. As different as we are, we have more in common.”

It was an honest struggle to keep my face from showing my reaction. I had been flattered before. I had been called a god before with earnest belief. But, I don't think I had been as proud to receive another's praise quite like this before.

Irene tilted her head ever so slightly, her gaze sliding to me. I could only guess at her thoughts before she offered a practiced smile, “Forgive our rudeness -- Bishop Otto was telling me of how you met. I'm sure it is quite the tale, one I would wish to hear in full. Yet, it is not my curiosity which has brought you here,” she said, speaking in Greek. “Lord Siegfried, do me a kindness and translate our words to Princess Jasmine.”

I nodded in agreement, though it wasn't really a request. Irene didn't ask for permission or forgiveness or requests. She demanded it.

“Tell me, Bishop Otto -- what has seen a western bishop sent to my lands?” Irene questioned, and she was getting rather comfortable with her position, I noticed. The mask and pretenses put up as a veneer of legitimacy were slowly falling away, laying bare her true intentions. “Along with one of King Charlemagne's most famous Paladins,” she added, looking to Astolfo, who was as serious as I had ever seen her. Which told me she was already bored and uninterested in the conversation.

“It is a matter of faith, Regent Irene,” Otto said, inclining his head to her. “His Holiness Pope Adrian has come increasingly aware of the growing gulf between the Faith of the West and the East. We wish to mend this gulf before it were to become irreparable.”

Patriarch Nicetas’s lips thinned, going to speak but Irene raised a hand, silencing him. That, more than anything else, caused a stirring in Otto. It wasn't much of a reaction, but he stiffened ever so slightly. In Patriarch Nicetas’s place, Irene spoke, “You speak of the Iconoclasm debate.”

“Exactly so. Pope Adrian desires for the matter to be brought to a close with the restoration of icons, in line with western doctrine. Something that he felt Emperor Constantine would be amenable to,” Otto said and I watched as the conversation developed while softly translating everything said to Jasmine. By Emperor Constantine, he meant Irene, and I don't think he was wrong there. I paid little attention to rumors and hearsay when it came to Christianity, but I'm fairly certain that Irene was an iconophile.

Irene offered a polite practiced smile, “I am most certain he would. The growing… rift has concerned us as well. Our faith should be unified as we find ourselves surrounded by hostile faiths, as King Charlemagne has learned. One faith, one church, under God, as it should be.”

I had absolutely no idea why I was here, I thought, watching as Otto smiled politely back at her in agreement. None of this concerned me. In all honesty, I'm not even sure what the issue was.

Irene continued, “I have been making preparations for a grand debate to settle the issue of icons within the church. If Pope Adrian would wish to lend his support and aid in the debate held in Constantinople, then he would be welcomed in our halls.” Otto's lack of reaction was a reaction in itself. He had underestimated the depths of Irene's ambition.

The conflict was one of power as much as it was one of faith. If not more so. I knew rather little of this Pope, beyond the fact that he probably didn't like me, but I knew that Irene wanted the Christian faith under her control. Which the Pope wasn't because he was under King Charlemagne's control, to my knowledge. What Irene wanted was submission from this Pope, acknowledgment, and the influence and power that came from removing a rival.

“I would be happy to pass your invitation to His Holiness. I know he will be overjoyed to lend you his aid, with an invitation to have the matter debated in Rome.” Otto countered and Irene offered a polite smile that was sharp enough to cut.

“His invitation lightens my heart, but I worry for the outcome of such a debate in Rome from those that have no first hand experience in regards to the issue at hand,” Irene countered. “As I worry how we would be seen by rival faiths. Lord Siegfried, an answer to a query I would ask of you,” she started, suddenly turning to me and I suppose I was about to find out why I was here in the first place. “Amongst your followers, you have those that call your patron god Odin, and those that call him Woden. Why is this?”

I glanced at Otto, who fought off a small frown as I considered how to answer. But I wasn't entirely sure what she was trying to accomplish with that question. So, cautiously, I answered honestly, “It is because the Saxons worship the gods differently than us.” I said, and that was apparently exactly what she wished to hear because she gave a dazzling triumphant smile to Otto.

“Christianity has been divided once already with the founding of the Islamic faith, and Judasiam before that,” Otto started, only to pause at my visible confusion.

I glanced around the table, who were now all looking at me. It was Astolfo who spoke, though, “What's that face for? You knew that, right?”

I was a bit too stunned to lie, “I- no. Wait, Muslims and Christians share a God? I thought- Muslims worship Allah, do they not?” I questioned, looking at Jasmine, who seemed confused by my confusion. This was increasingly baffling and I was starting to struggle to make sense of this. “I-... what is happening right now?”

Otto seemed to take pity on me and provided an answer. “Christians, Muslims, and Jews are all children of the book. The difference lay in deviations of interpretation. Christians believe that Jesus Christ to be the son of God, sent here and sacrificed to deliver us from our sins. Muslims, while I am no true expert, acknowledge Jesus as a prophet, but their doctrine was shaped by a man named Muhammad. The Jews were the original founding of the faith, it could be said, with Christianity forming upon Jesus' death and resurrection. They, however, do not believe that Jesus was the son of God.”

I had so many questions I'm not even sure where to start. I wasn't the only one with questions as Staurakios spoke up, “Would you have us believe that pagans never fight each other because they share a faith?”

“We fight each other all the time, but I don't think it's ever been about faith. At least, nothing beyond raiding one another in the name of the gods,” I said, mulling over this development. My answer caused some confusion, so I elaborated. “The gods are the gods. It doesn't matter if they call him Woden. Or if our rituals are different. No, more than that -- if you were to go to Denmark, you would find that village by village they honor the gods differently. Sometimes there would be differences house by house. It doesn't matter, however.”

Everyone was looking as confused as I felt the more I explained. “The gods are the gods. If they cannot hear your prayers because you called them the wrong name, or misperformed a ritual, then they cannot be called gods. They hear you through the act of prayer.” That's the part that confused me the most.

In my time here, there hadn't been any difficulties between my Norse and Saxon warriors when it came to faith. I couldn't claim I understood all of the Saxon rituals, but I never thought to begrudge them in any way. Faith, when it came down to it, was personal. There was no right way to honor the gods. So long as you honored them, that was enough. They heard you through your actions and beliefs.

Which was what made this revelation so baffling. The Christians and Muslims and Jews hated each other so fiercely for what amounted to differences in belief in the same God.

The entire thing was just… strange.

“I believe this may be part of a wider discussion,” Irene said after a long moment of thought as she considered Otto. “But, first, I am… in agreement that the icon issue must be laid to rest.” She said, steering the conversation back and I could see Otto snapping out of his thoughts.

He hesitated to answer for a moment, glancing at me. “In light of this revelation… I… will confess that I find it unlikely that Pope Adrian would agree to house the debate in Constantinople,” he admitted and Irene seemed surprised with the admission. “I cannot claim I know what is best for the faith. Only that infighting cannot be the way forward. I would put forth an… alternative, if you would find such a thing agreeable.”

Irene also looked at me and I started to get a sinking feeling in my gut. It wasn't the gods speaking to me, I don't think, but I got the very distinct impression that something truly awful was heading in my direction.

“I believe I have an inkling of what this suggestion might be, but go on,” Irene instructed and Otto wasted no time throwing me into the thick of it.

“I suggest that the debate be held in a more neutral setting, not entirely within the Western or the Eastern strongholds of power. I suggest that the debate be held in Crete. Norland, specifically,” he offered with a small, somewhat apologetic smile at my flat expression.

Patriarch Nicetas didn't like the idea. I would go as far as to say he hated it. And me, for that matter. You'd think it was my idea based on how he was glaring at me. His opinion was of no consequence and Irene made sure he knew it, “I would be amenable to this idea. A forum would need to be constructed, of course.” She said, looking my way.

I regretted speaking. Now I was stuck building a forum to house a debate about a religion I didn't even understand at this point, much less follow. Between people who hated me.

A small sigh escaped me as I looked to Otto, then Irene, “I don't suppose that I can refuse?” I tried, not even bothered if this cost me her favor.

She must have thought the question was a jest because she laughed, “No, you may not.”

Great. That was just… perfect.

I bet I wouldn't have to deal with this madness if I sided with the Abbasids.

…

I wanted to clarify something a bit before I get some messages -- I’m not saying that Pagans never had any religious turmoil. I’m saying that they, in large part, never had anything like what we see with the response to the Protestant movement or the Reformation. Where you’re still worshiping the same god, just in slightly different ways, and that inspired such hatred that Christians and Catholics started to slaughter each other and themselves. To say nothing of the divide between Judaism and Islam.

The best example I can think of is what Rome did in its pagan days. When they conquered a new land, they’d go, ‘Oh, you worship a God of War? We do too. You have a God of Harvest? OMGs, we do too. Wait, you have harvest festivals?! And Pre-battle rituals? Bro, you aren’t going to believe this, but I think we’re worshiping the same gods and just calling them different names.’

This also blends in to another point of that most pagan religions are inherently personal rather than monolithic. Which is partly why Christianity was so good at infiltrating pagan lands and removing it to the point we call the Norse faith norse mythology. So, deviations in personal worship are expected. You dealt with your gods firsthand, and if that wasn’t working, then you went to someone that was seen to have a deeper connection to the gods, like a wise woman or witch.