The Sclemanteryx

The Sclemanteryx

By Michael Linnett

Text Copyright © 2019 Michael Linnett

All rights reserved.

Prologue

The sun blazed like a hungry furnace, burnishing the skin of a lone, sightless priest, as he made his way down the Via Appia, into ancient Rome. He tapped his ivory cane on the flagstones, pausing every few steps to mop his brow and feel his way along a row of stone pillars. Then he turned into the delicious cool of a narrow alleyway. He brushed along the wall with his fingertips, until he felt the edge of a door frame and scowled as his ivory cane struck the heavy oak door. A metal shutter slid open and a voice called out harshly.

Ah, old man. I hope for your sake that knapsack contains the gold your daughter owes. If it does not, I promise you, she will be on a slave ship before sundown.

Do not fear, said the old man gruffly. You will get everything you deserve.

The man snorted and turned a heavy iron key.

Come in, he said. Do not trip on the threshold. There are none here to assist you. Now follow me. Make haste mind you, I've little time to waste on debtors.

The priest's cane tapped noisily upon the stone flags and his leather sandals slapped unevenly with each step. The gilded ceilings and ornate picture frames were as nothing to him, as he made his way to the counting room. He heard the creak of protesting door hinges, the scrape of a chair being pulled out and the avaricious breathing of two wheezy old men, stacking coins onto a table.

Bring forth his daughter, said the man. He heard the rattle of heavy chains and a gasp as he felt her gaze upon him.

Do not do this, father, she said. I beg of you.

But the money lender cut her off.

We shall have what is owed, he hissed

The priest felt for the table, then carefully placed his knapsack down. They watched with disdain, as he pulled out a stone obelisk and a thick leather bound book.

What trickery is this? Said the man.

The girl screamed as she was pulled to the floor. But it was not a scream of pain. It was terror at what she knew was to come. The book flew open of its own volition, revealing the figure of a hooded corpse, lifting from the page. The demonic barking of Anubis filled the room, as its neck twisted towards the men. Then it lunged. A pair of blackened arms flailed outwards and sharpened talons impaled two of the men through their nostrils. They writhed uncontrollably as their brains were dragged out from within. Then its gaze fixed upon the money lender, who cowered in his chair. Its rotten teeth bared as it spoke in a relentless monotone.

I was master and servant, do not keep the house of this accursed son.

The man's eyes rolled upwards into his head and his blood dried within his veins as he fell to the ground and disintegrated into dust.

Then silence. The priest retrieved his stone and book. He carefully placed them in his knapsack and turned to the door.

Come child, he said. We have been called.

An Audience

In 582, Pope Gregory I, sent Augustine and 40 companions from Rome to missionise among the Anglo-Saxons and spread the message of a Christian God to the pagan lands.

Some years after the successful conversation of King Æthelberht in Kent, Augustine was summoned back to Rome for an audience with the Pope.

I grow weary of Rome, said Augustine to his manservant Pious.