They would soon find out. It remained only to be contacted by Smyrna and whatever other Gallican League associates were in the city, then prepare for the exact method of revealing the Nazarene’s will at the Mass of the Nativity Vigil.
Chapter nineteen
Bishop Peter Chrysologos was surprised to learn of the Hibernian abbot’s arrival. In an interview, he told Brenos it was commendable that he, as head of a monastery, had been willing to suffer the discomforts of a winter journey to attend the funeral of one of his monks. The bishop insisted that the abbot stay in the episcopal residence, and also deliver the eulogy at the Mass for Behan on December twenty-fourth.
Brenos’ lingering anger at Fiachra and Warinar metamorphosed into panic when he realized that he was more than two weeks later than he had planned in arriving at Ravenna. There were only three days left to be contacted by Smyrna, remove the papyrus with the will from wherever it was concealed, and arrange for its revelation at the Nativity service. He had assumed that the prophecy Behan would announce to prepare for the discovery had been made public, and became very uneasy when the bishop did not mention it.
His anxiety subsided a bit when Chrysologos told him he would be introduced to the congregation at the morning Mass, which commemorated three martyrs who had been victims of persecution by the apostate emperor Julian ii. Even if Smyrna were not at the service, word of an abbot who had just arrived from Gaul would get out quickly. He had not met the League’s contact, but had written to him through Behan. Smyrna, after sending the note that “the cockerel was ready to crow,” must be as anxious that Brenos had not appeared on schedule, as the abbot was about being delayed.
What would Smyrna be like? Behan had been clever in saying that he would use his access to the library to make contacts within the palace. Clerks gossiped. It would not be too difficult for a simple monk to learn who was disgruntled and ambitious, a person, perhaps, who had lost prestige and who could be persuaded to be part of an effort to replace a corrupt government with a true Christian state that would be administered by an Order of holy monks. And Smyrna must be ruthless enough to condone the civil war that would inevitably result.
Galla Placidia arranged for a private meeting with the abbot. It was a courtesy to a churchman who held a rank equivalent to that of a bishop, but she also wanted to find out—discreetly—how much he knew about the manuscripts found in Behan’s hut, especially the papyri that Theokritos was testing.
Brenos was overawed after seeing the number of buildings in Ravenna and their size. Bishop Chrysologos showed him his Ursiana basilica, with its five aisles, and said it rivaled the one that the great Constantine had built in Rome. Except for the glimpse of the white buildings Brenos had caught on the hill at Lugdunum, he had not been able to visualize any structure larger than his Collegium at Culdees.
When a deacon escorted Brenos to the Lauretum Palace, the abbot could only gape at the magnificence of this residence of the Western Augustus. The construction and size of the building, the magnificence of its mosaic floors, the colorful clothing on the guards, a glimpse of an indoor garden as large as the docks at Autessiodurum; all made him forget the pain in his side for a time.
The deacon left the abbot alone in Galla Placidia’s reception room. Even though he had been told that she was the mother of the emperor, Brenos was astonished at the richness of the room’s furnishings. Even the governor’s office at Autessiodurum, a room with expensive furniture compared to a monk’s cell, did not approach the wealth and luxury displayed inside this woman’s reception area.
As Brenos sat nervously waiting for the arrival of the emperor’s mother he was tormented again by the excruciating pain of his suppurating wound. He blamed a feeling of weakness on fatigue from his journey, and a lingering nausea on the contrast between the bishop’s rich meal and the sparse travel rations he had endured for so long.
To distract himself from his discomfort, Brenos stood and walked around the room, looking at the silver and gold statuettes set on stands. Behind some of them, along the wall, pagan goddesses, harlots frozen in stone, stood alongside bearded idols and portrayals of smirking men and women wearing outlandish hairstyles. On the area behind what he assumed was Placidia’s throne, an elaborate monogram in gold tiles displayed the letters AGP.
Brightly colored coverings hung on walls, and lay beneath his mud-stained travel boots. Some partially hid tile designs of long-eared demons with brutish faces and erect penises, who tried to copulate with equally shameless nude Daughters of Eve.
Half delirious from fever and fatigue, Brenos felt his initial awe at the display of riches—the mosaics, tapestries, carpets and sculptures—turn into a nascent rage and fear. In a sudden revelation, like a bright light pulsing behind his eyes, the abbot recalled John’s apocalyptic vision of a woman seated upon a scarlet beast. The name of Babylon, the great mother of harlots, was written on her forehead. An inner voice surfaced to reveal to him that here in Ravenna, not in Rome, was the lair of the Harlot about whom the Apostle John had written!
What was it John had been commanded to write to the Angel of the church in Smyrna? “I know how hard pressed and poor you are—and yet you are rich.” Now, by the Grace of the Nazarene, he, Brenos of Slana, Abbot of the Monastery of Culdees, stood inside
