In 716 AD, after ten years of recuperation, the Arab Empire's 80,000-strong army on land and water once again came to Constantinople. At that time, rebellions occurred frequently in the Byzantine Empire, and its power was declining. The master of Constantinople
Theodosius
The third generation was a tax collector. Although he was supported by the army and became the emperor, he had nothing to do in the face of the declining empire. Mountains and rains were about to destroy the city. The city, like the ancient empire it symbolized, was already in turmoil.
.
An old man drove a carriage on a winding mountain road. The old man's body was stooped, his hands were thick and deformed, covered with calluses, and his face was wrinkled like walnut kernels. The burden of life weighed heavily on him.
The old horse pulling the cart was the same as its owner. It had no majestic appearance at all. Not only was it short and incompetent, but it was also pathologically thin. However, it was familiar with walking this mountain road.
Stop and go, but in this place where the road is broken, even the most precious war horses can't do better than it.
The turbulent politics and bloody wars are things in another world for the old man and Lao Ma. What the old man pursues is just to have a meal and clothing. If he can occasionally take a sip of wine, that would be great.
As for war, he didn't know much about it, and he wasn't interested. Anyway, he didn't believe that those pagan armies could occupy this land blessed by the Lord.
Sitting on the carriage was a man wrapped in black robes. He was unusually tall, and one couldn't help but wonder what kind of majestic face he had. But even in the daytime, his face still had a deep expression.
Hidden under the black robe, no one can see clearly.
The old man has been doing business with this man for almost ten years, but he has never seen his appearance. However, the old man does not care about this. He is just an ascetic with a weird personality. What the old man cares about is his generosity.
This man comes to the old man once a year at this time and pays the old man a large sum of money to take him on this trip. Their destination is a secret garden hidden in the mountains. The old man's job also includes this
Garden maintenance.
Touching the heavy coins in his pocket, the old man's hands became more and more itchy. He wanted to drink and gamble to his heart's content tonight.
The tall man on the carriage was silent all the way. The old man tried to talk to him at first, saying some words of praise and compliments in the hope of getting more rewards, but this behavior never received a response, so the old man just
Gradually, I got used to this man's quirks and stopped talking much.
The old man wondered if this was a strange form of asceticism. A person who spends money like this could only be a monk from the church or a nobleman. But when a nobleman goes out, he must have a large number of followers cheering for him. They will definitely not be like him.
Alone.
While walking and stopping along the way, apart from the chirping of birds in the mountains, there was only the feeble rhythm of the old horse. The two of them and one horse created a solemn sense of ritual in this silence, as if they were on a sacred date.
Finally, when the old man and the old horse were sweating profusely, the secret garden hidden in the mountains was finally visible.
"Stop." The tall man in the car suddenly ordered. His voice was deep and rich, with a magical magnetism.
The old man didn't even need to do anything, he just snorted and the old horse stopped.
"Is there any problem?" The old man was a little strange. He always stopped at the garden gate in the past. How long has it been since he heard this man's voice? When getting money and doing things, you never need to talk much. The old man is used to it.
.
"Go back." The man got out of the car and said to the old man.
"Don't you need me to take you back?"
The man ignored him and walked straight to the garden.
The old man poked his head in the direction of the garden and looked around. There was nothing strange. Did he find out that I was lazy and didn't clean up the weeds? Probably not. Forget it, I already got the money anyway, so I went back to try my luck.
That's the business.
The old man patted his old partner's butt, turned around and left impatiently.
The man in black robe looked in the direction of the garden. He saw a person who should not be in the garden. He saw a person who was least worthy of being in the garden. The man in black robe was like an active volcano about to erupt. He tried his best to suppress it.
Holding on to the anger in his heart, he walked towards the garden step by step, without fear of death and without giving in.
At the gate of the garden, a Christian monk wearing coarse linen clothes was gently stroking a petal, with curious hesitation and confusion on his face. He was not tall and thin, but everyone who saw him could sincerely feel
I feel a kind of tallness, which is not overbearing and aggressive, but full of fatherly intimacy and wisdom.
A few strands of his blond curly hair have turned gray, and the wrinkles on his face show signs of age, but his thick eyebrows tremble slightly and he smiles, like an innocent child. It seems that he has no desires in this body.
Leave filth behind.
The man in black robe approached step by step, and soon he was less than ten steps away from the monk.
The monk seemed to be reluctant to look away from the petals. He looked at the man in black robe, as if calling the name of a close friend, "Devil, I finally see you."
The man in black robe stopped and said mockingly: "Humph, Saint."
The monk squinted his eyes and looked at the sky, stretched out his hands as if to embrace the sunshine, "You are still the same as before, you will never be able to enjoy this sacred brilliance."
The man in black robe sneered: "How come the noble saint still has time to see a lowly person like me? The pagans in your eyes have already arrived outside the city and will soon burn your hypocrisy to ashes, right?"
"A brother comes to see his sister, and the Lord will not stop him."
The man in black robe clenched his fists and scolded uncontrollably: "How dare you say such a thing?"
"Is this the garden you built for my sister? Violet, thyme, lily, narcissus, mallow, impatiens..."
The man in black robe took a step forward, "What exactly do you want to do?"
The monk seemed to be silent in his memories, not noticing the murderous intention of the man in black robe at all. He said with endless emotion: "I remember when I was a child, it was she who taught me about these flowers one by one."
The man in black robe took another step forward and said in a deep voice: "That's enough for you. If you want to anger me, then you've done a good enough job. I don't want to do it here, so go somewhere else."
"You still don't understand that the glory of the Lord is everywhere, what's the difference between here and there? Let my sister see you being redeemed with her own eyes. I think this is also her wish."
"Ah ah ah..." The man in black robe roared angrily, and instantly cut behind the monk like a ghost. A small scimitar with a deep blood groove drew a sharp light and cut directly into the monk's back.