Doctor Who_ Byzantium! - Keith Topping [71]
The normal peace and quiet, now rudely interrupted, aided their task which was to translate into Greek the mostly Aramaic and Hebrew, and occasional Latin, scrolls and parchments of holy texts that were arriving by the day in Byzantium. They came from Palestine, Antioch and Babylon, in the form of letters from various prophets, sages and priests around the region and beyond.
This was a very new church and, as such, had little in the way of written lore to work from. Thus, anything, even letters from nomadic priests like Peter the fisherman or Paul the gentile were regarded as quasi-sacred texts.
James took the Doctor into the cave where three candles were the only il umination. Spread around the cave floor, in a seemingly haphazard fashion, were dozens of parchments; the trio of scholars sat, their heads bowed, studying with great concentration, the words of the various pages.
Occasionally, one would stop, stand up to stretch his cramped and aching limbs, and walk to the mouth of the cave, blinking in the light like a small rodent emerging from underground. Their skin, as a result of their seclusion, was pale and chalky. They all looked, the Doctor thought, like they could do with some exercise.
`Good scribes,' James announced as they entered the cave. The three men looked up, cross at having been interrupted in their most important of works. When they saw it was James who addressed them, they all stood and bowed their heads in deference. ‘I should like to introduce to you the Doctor, a man of great knowledge and learning from overseas.'
The Doctor didn't reply to the half-hearted grunts of acknowledgement that came from the three men.
Reuben, seemingly the eldest and most senior of the group, was also the tallest and easily the most approachable. Thin, almost to the point of emaciation, he, like the others, had thick black hair and a straggly, unkempt beard. Rayhab was smaller and more docile with dull eyes, the colour of mud on a river-bed. Amos, the third scribe, was short and stout, a roly-poly figure with blotchy skin and a squint from working long and tedious hours in near darkness.
`The Doctor may, perhaps, be of some use in your studies,'
said James, who seemed to be hurrying towards the cave exit. The Doctor thought briefly about begging James to take him with him, away from these terminally studious young men and their nasty-looking skin, but he decided that it wouldn't do any harm to stay here for a while and annoy them further.
`So,' said the Doctor as they were left alone, 'tell me what you are working on.'
For a moment, all of the men were silent, as though they had simultaneously lost the power of speech. Then they answered in a rapid series of short and to-the-point replies, one picking up the sentence wherever one of the others had left it.
It was, thought the Doctor, almost as if they shared one gestalt-like mind.
`We are attempting,' Reuben began, `to translate...'
`The rough notes, in Hebrew and Aramaic,' continued Amos.
Òf the prophet and scribe Mark of Jerusalem,' added Rayhab.
Às told to him by God, and through the mouths of the divine apostles Paul of Tarsus and Peter of Galilee.'
‘And,' said Amos, 'brought back from Babylon by James months past.'
Ìnto a Greek gospel, that will complement the work of the disciple Matthew the tax-gatherer,' concluded Reuben.
Amos, however, added one final thought. 'Only we have the knowledge to do this.'
The others give him a sly and rather pleased corner-of-the-eye glance.
If there was one thing that really annoyed the Doctor it was hubris in all its forms. 'Knowledge is not the province of arrogance, gentlemen,' he said dismissively. 'It is a gift, a wonder of enlightenment.' He paused and gave the three scribes his most charming smile. ‘May I be permitted to have a look at your work thus far?'
Marcus Lanilla arrived back at his villa following a particularly long and tedious day, spent firstly in the company of a group of pathetic and whining centurions who could all, Marcus had decided, have done with a good flogging