Read Online Written in the Ashes by K. Hollan Van Zandt - Free Book Online Page A

chair of the great table and cleared his throat. The room was deep within the bowels of the church of St. Alexander, and lacked, above all amenities, light. The stones in the wall drank in what little the candelabras provided and refused to spit out so much as a spark for the rest of the room. One of the clergy who had traveled all the way from Britannia loved this church that reminded him so much of home, but as for the rest they took no notice, for their duty involved attending to matters of law, not architecture.
    Heirax cleared his throat. “The Parabolans have circulated over ten thousand treatises on Hypatia of Alexandria. It has been established further that this heretic remains a threat to our church establishment, as an order was sent to her home to disband her private meetings, and was ignored.”
    “I expected as much,” said Cyril. “Continue.”
    “I have held counsel with the Parabolani, Your Eminence, and they inform me that the pamphlets we have circulated mostly end up being used to wrap fish or diaper small children. The populace has simply never seen such an issue before, and perceives the documents as useful paper instead of information. You realize that most of them do not have access to parchment of their own and cannot read besides.”
    Cyril spread his small, fat hands on the table, grunted, and then stood so that he could pace the length of the room to engage his mind. Forced to sit for extended periods he always became agitated, tending toward unnecessary fulminations that seldom reflected the gravity of the discussion at hand.
    “Then perhaps we can supply a small paper merchant in the market who could distribute parchment to the populace so that it is not so rare a commodity when it comes time to spread ideas of importance.” The speaker was a young priest called Ammonius, who had a face the others agreed was too handsome for the work of God, though he was an effective preacher.
    “No,” said Cyril wryly. “I will not have this church gifting the whole civilized world with parchment.”
    Peter the Reader shifted in his seat. His legs were longer than the others and so his knees pressed uncomfortably against the staves below. “I have another idea, one I have considered thoroughly.”
    “Speak it then,” said Cyril, his mouth a thin line where lips should be.
    “The populace of Alexandria is well-acquainted with sorcery. Many of them are pagans with secret altars in their homes. Were we in Rome, the charge against a sorceress might be taken seriously, but here in Alexandria, it is far too ordinary.”
    “You propose another charge?” asked Heirax.
    “No,” said Peter. “I propose we punish the pagan women practicing sorcery. Denounce them publicly. We must educate the citizens of Alexandria that there will be no tolerance for heathens in our midst.”
    Cyril smiled, and his whole face became lit with the deviousness of a small boy who has cornered a helpless dog with a stick. “Yes, very good. We shall try them publicly. Gather them in a great mass and imprison them.”
    “With all due pardon, Your Eminence,” said Peter, his voice unusually high in pitch for a man of such height and angularity of frame, “imprisoning the women of Alexandria would be altered in an instant with a pardon from Governor Orestes. They would walk free and we would look the fools.”
    Cyril returned to his chair, still standing. The mention of the governor unsettled him. “You have a better idea?”
    “We must try them one at a time,” said Peter. “Some will renounce their sorcery and take a vow of Christ, and those will be freed. Those who do not take the vow, or who otherwise prove to be involved in witchcraft, must be made an example of.”
    Heirax opened the codex before him and read aloud. “Exodus. ‘Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live’.”
    The clergy at the table immediately turned to discuss the matter with one another.
    Heirax sat back in his chair and looked at bishop Cyril, who