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eBook Category: Historical Fiction
eBook Description: Born on the west coast of Britannia into a Christian Roman family in 390 AD, Patricius Magonus Sucatus lives his life as a pampered and proud member of the nobility. Then he is kidnapped by violent pagans and saved by a beautiful slave girl he is destined to love his entire life. Within him burns a fire of salvation that will ignite and sweep all of the Isle of Erin and ultimately challenge the dictates of the Pope in far-off Rome. Here is the story of St. Patrick from his own pen, his own spirit.

eBook Publisher: The Fiction Works, Published: 2006
Fictionwise Release Date: May 2006

4 Reader Ratings: Great Good OK Poor

Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [1.9 MB], eReader (PDB) [407 KB], Palm Doc (PDB) [405 KB], Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [355 KB], Microsoft Reader (LIT) [329 KB] - PocketPC 1.0+ Compatible, Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [375 KB], hiebook (KML) [915 KB], Sony Reader (LRF) [500 KB], iSilo (PDB) [332 KB], Mobipocket (PRC) [415 KB], Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [474 KB], OEBFF Format (IMP) [519 KB]
Words: 119173
Reading time: 340-476 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

Mid-May, Anno Domini 405, the last day of school. I fidgeted on the hard bench seat and stared out the window. Old Euslid droned on and on about the proper techniques of writing. I was deaf to his words. The stately columns, the sculptured gardens, and the inviting pool in the brick courtyard below captured my attention.

I was not yet sixteen, scarcely above average in height, with sandy brown hair and pale blue eyes that twinkled when I laughed and danced when I contemplated mischief, or so I had often been told. A strong physique and athletic skill added to my charms. I was well liked and believed myself superior to most, my poor scholarship not withstanding.

It was the privilege of all sons of British aristocrats to enjoy the traditional Roman education. Mathematics, grammar, literary fluency, and debate were the principle subjects, with a fair smattering of philosophy and Roman history thrown in.

Mathematics stimulated my mind like a game or a puzzle. History was simply storytelling, an art form Grandfather had taught me to love. Philosophy conveniently provided me with other views of the universe besides Grandfather's Christian perspective. Had our lessons been limited to these areas, my stellar performance as an academic would have been assured. But grammar and composition were my bane.

I did learn to write, but not with fluency. It seemed impossible to reduce the multitude of my thoughts on any given subject to written words, words that flowed with rhythm and style. This chore I had effectively eliminated by hiring Amicus to write the essays for me. Thus I had breezed through this last year of grammaticus training.

Amicus was seventeen, called Ami for short, and almost two years older than I. He was tall, slender, with dark brown hair and deep set green hazel eyes, a slightly angular jaw, and a sharp nose. His refined, thin lips could express a full range of emotions, real or contrived, without the help of any other facial feature. He was nice looking in an academic sort of way, the perfect image of a scholar and my best friend.

In the school of rhetoric, our next level of education, I anticipated great success in verbal debate. However, unless Ami continued to execute them, persuasive writing assignments continued to loom ominously before me. Why worry about that now?

Total silence called my attention away from the window and back to Master Euslid whose eyes were inimically riveted to mine. Master Euslid must have been seventy, though no one ever had the nerve or impudence to ask. He was slightly bent, about as tall as I, with balding grey hair, a long narrow nose, and an excessively hairy eyebrow that arched independent of its twin when he became annoyed or suspicious, as it did now.

I squirmed. After reading my exam essay, he was bound to know. What could he do? Could he admit that I had fooled him all this time? He'd look like a complete incompetent. Hadn't he praised my good work to Father only three weeks ago? How could he fail me now? What proof could he offer my doting father that I couldn't deny?

Master Euslid shook his head. "Sucat, you'll remain after dismissal." He looked up at the other boys. "One last comment: The Roman officials suspect that our dear Father Molue's death was not an accident." My stomach turned. "Such a senseless tragedy. The boys next year will not have as rich an education as you have been privileged to receive. Father Molue's gifts as a storyteller made us see through his blind eyes the glory of Roman history come alive. That is all. When you have received your letter of merit, you are free to go. Class dismissed."

Coroticus turned around and punched me playfully in the arm. He, like Amicus, was seventeen. They had started school at an older age than I and had been promoted with me each year. The two of them were my favorite companions.

Coroticus was less than attractive, stocky, with wiry, straw colored hair, a large nose, and pock marks from his purulent complexion. Not particularly exceptional at anything, he lacked the drive that spurs men to greatness. But his father was the highest ranking noble in the province, and would have been king or governor, had he not fallen out of favor with Rome. The people in the province continued to pay him the highest respect. Accordingly, his son, Coroticus, didn't need to compete like the others.

What I appreciated was Coroticus's perverse talent for conceiving wicked mischief. Ami usually overruled his suggestions, but it was a thrill just to mentally entertain such things.

I grinned and punched him back. He was as pleased to be free of lessons as I was. We began hastily gathering our writing tools. Ami, I noticed, carefully collected his things, as though each item were precious, always meticulous. Ami may have worked hard, but he played hard, too, a faculty I admired. We would enjoy our holiday. As the three of us stood ready to leave, Master Euslid approached.

"Master Amicus, you are possibly the finest student I have had the good fortune to teach." He handed Amicus a letter of merit.

"Thank you, sir,Amicus respectfully acknowledged.

"Master Coroticus," Master Euslid continued, "Not everyone can be the scholar that Amicus is, but you have applied yourself faithfully, though uninspiringly. I commend your effort." He handed Coroticus a letter of merit.

"Thank you, sir," Coroticus responded. "And sir," he added determinedly, "if I ever find out who started that fire, I'll kill him with my bare hands."

"Yes, and I'll help him!" I added hastily.

"I'm sure that Father Molue would not have wanted his death to inspire such hate. He was very special to you, wasn't he, Coroticus?" Master Euslid asked.

"He always had time for me," Coroticus admitted bitterly. "My father never..." He broke off.

"Yes, well, we must leave vengeance to God and the legions of Rome," Master Euslid counseled.

"God and the legions of Rome," I breathed worriedly.

"Sucat..."

I looked up expectantly. Master Euslid frowned, then placed a hand on my shoulder and led me to the corner of the room. My stomach churned again. He may have lacked the courage to face father and jeopardize his position, but he could still take a cane to me for my deception.

Master Euslid didn't speak right away, just stood with his hand on my shoulder, his eyes searching mine, and that eyebrow arched menacingly. My eyes moved nervously from his face, to his hands, to the floor. Finally he spoke, his voice kind and sad, not railing as I had expected, but more like Grandfather might have spoken.

"Master Sucat, I am disappointed more than I can say. You have played me for the fool, a title you are swiftly earning for yourself. Your gifts, considerable as they are, unused, misused, or abused will evaporate, waste away. Virtue makes us wise stewards of the gifts we possess; honor, honesty, diligence. Regrettably, of these three you possess none!"

A quick glance across the room confirmed that Ami, Coroticus, and the others were enjoying my ordeal. Why was Old Euslid preaching to me? If he was going to fail me or cane me why didn't he do it? Listening to his grave old voice almost made me sick. What did I need with all his lessons anyway? I had outsmarted him for most of the year. I imagined I could outsmart anyone.

A look in Master Euslid's eyes told me he had read in my transparent face the impertinence of my heart. Why couldn't I mask my feelings like Amicus? He could be livid with anger and still smile so politely, you'd think he was pleased instead.

"Will I receive a letter of merit?" I asked haughtily, though I was making every effort to suppress my arrogance.

Master Euslid slowly pulled out my letter. "To try to approach your father would be a waste of time for you and unprofitable for me."

Exactly! I thought as I smiled to myself.

"However, tonight at church I will make my confession to your grandfather regarding how miserably I have failed to teach you."

"Grandfather?!"

Master Euslid handed me the unearned letter of merit and walked away. My mind was suddenly blank, empty, no thoughts, plans, schemes whirled within. Think about it later, I told myself, why waste a perfectly good afternoon?

Ami and Coroticus wore mischievous smiles as their eyes met mine. They had enjoyed watching me squirm, but I was through squirming, at least for now. I'd beat the both of them soon enough.

"Come on, I'll race you!" I shouted as I made for the door. It was still a bit chilly for a swim, but I knew they would join me.

"Sucat, just one length. Then you tell us how you expect to wiggle out of the hole you're in," Ami laughed.

"The water's freezing!" Coroticus complained.

"Fruitless arguments seldom alter the inevitable, Coroticus," Ami orated from a wealth of experience. "Just swim!"

Generously, I gave them both a head start. The water stung like ice, spurring me to powerful, swift strokes that rapidly cut through the water, sending a surge of hot blood pumping through my veins.

Coroticus swam with the same lack of enthusiasm that marked every other effort. He was easily overtaken, but I began to feel I had made a mistake in allowing Ami an advantage. I hadn't slept well for ... Suddenly I shot forward, propelled by a power and energy absent only moments before as happened in every competition. "The champion!" I shouted as I leapt from the pool.

"As always, Sucat," Coroticus grumbled.

"Yes," I replied, "in swimming, running, chariot racing. But in academics, Amicus wins the prize." I bowed in mock homage to Ami, who tousled my hair, laughing warmly. I did try to think of some area to applaud Coroticus for, but his accomplishments alluded me. Whenever Coroticus did win at anything, which was seldom, he was unbearably arrogant. Whenever he lost, he pouted as he did now, saying "I could have won, if the water hadn't been so cold."

"Never mind that. Sucat, what scheme are you hatching?" Ami inquired.

"I'll have to come up with a new one. Old Euslid turned a corner I hadn't anticipated. But I'll think of something."

"If my pocket didn't fare so well from your deceptions, I would suggest you try honesty." Ami chuckled.

We threw on our clothes and started for the street.

"Have you heard from Audrey?" Coroticus inquired.

Overwhelming irritation gripped me as I turned on him.

"Watch how you cut your eyes, Sucat!" Coroticus sneered. "Audrey is the finest girl I know. If she wasn't so overly fond of you..."

Audrey was Ami's sister. She was almost as tall as I and younger by a few months, adventurous, always open to something new, a childhood playmate. In spite of our bent to mischief, Ami had always kept us sensible. He was the thinker, painfully addicted to doing what was right. This sometimes annoyed Audrey and me who might want to climb higher, jump further, or swipe just one turnip from old Euslid's garden. On the other hand, we were free to abandon ourselves to endless possibilities, because we knew any stupid or hazardous scheme would be reined in by Ami.

Last year her parents insisted, for obvious reasons, that Audrey no longer accompany us on our adventures. Still, we had managed one new adventure without Ami's intervention or her parents' knowing.

"When she comes of age," Coroticus continued, "and I have finished rhetorical school, I intend to marry Audrey. She's smart enough to appreciate loyalty and love. When she discovers the only thing you're loyal to is a good time, you won't stand a chance."

I could feel my cheeks growing hot with embarrassment. Was I jealous? Possibly. Was it guilt? To my increased discomfort, Ami stared with studied curiosity. What was written on my face that fostered the uncertain contempt in his eyes?

"Audrey will be home soon, Coroticus," Ami finally suggested, turning slowly away. "Aunt Beatrice is much better."

"After four months, I should hope so," I mumbled to no one.

With a loud thud the school doors flew open and the younger boys came pouring into the courtyard. "Sucat! A story! A story!" they clamored as they swiftly encircled and tugged me toward the garden seat. Behind me Coroticus murmured almost outside my hearing. "I'm glad he's going away for awhile. Sometimes I almost hate him."

A good story pushes away every other thought, and that's just the kind of story I told. By the time I had finished telling, Coroticus and Ami had gone. Like the monster in my tale, I chased the boys. They ran away squealing but still begging for one more story. I popped a few playfully with my towel, then sprinted toward home.

Ours was the most impressive villa on the street. Much more so than Ami's a half mile further on, but not nearly so grand as Coroticus's on the other side of town. The ornate doors, mosaic art works, fine furnishings, private baths, and landscaped courtyard of my home gave me a sense of pride and worth. What we had was better than most, because we were better than most, I reasoned.

Sunlight reflected warmly off the glass panes of our windows, and lit a smile on my face as I neared the house. I ran through the courtyard. A cat, sunning itself on the warm brick pavement, scarcely flicked its tail. One of the servant's children, chasing a grasshopper, darted unexpectedly in front of me, sending me hurtling through the door, struggling to maintain my balance.

Bursting into the hallway, I collided with Grandfather and we tumbled together into the wall. Somehow we managed to recover before hitting the floor. Why was Grandfather stupidly standing in the hallway where people could run into him? I quickly bowed my head to mask the disrespect in my eyes. It wasn't the collision that had me flustered, it was Old Euslid and the meeting tonight.

My grandfather, Potitus, was nearly sixty-one and robust for a man of his age. Grandfather was an elder, a priest, of the Church and devoted to his faith. His ministry kept him extremely busy and excessively poor. Still, he always made time for me. Many happy hours had passed while Grandfather told me stories that came to life with the magic of his telling. I loved my grandfather, but his determination to see me a good Catholic Christian didn't sit well with my determination to be free of all religion. Out of respect for Grandfather, I did accompany him along with my mother and sister, Lupait, to church once a week. Father never required more.

The study door opened and Father stepped through. "I thought I heard something out here. Come in, Father, Sucat. Have a seat." Grandfather and I walked into the study.

Father was holding a number of letters in his hand. He waved them in mock despair. "Every letter another excuse for not paying taxes!" He tossed the letters on his desk.

Calpornius, my father, was a handsome, prosperous noble in the prime of his life. As decurion for the Roman Empire his responsibility was to collect taxes and oversee how those taxes were spent. Of course, the lion's share went to Rome. His business, almost an obsession, left little time for me, though his love for me was real and generous. Boyhood, he believed, was a time for fun and trivial amusements. The only demands he made were some measure of success in school and respect for Grandfather. I always met his expectations ... in one way or another.

I availed myself of the opportunity to read one of the letters. "To the most honorable Lord Calpornius" it began.

Turning to Grandfather, Father asked, "What was it you wanted?"

"Two things," Grandfather said in his resonant bass voice as he placed his hand on my shoulder. "First, might Sucat put off his trip for one day and you two join me in church this evening?"

I nervously put down the letter and began listening in earnest. Father glanced at me with a tired look in his eyes. Day after day Grandfather asked the same thing. Today I certainly hoped he would receive the same answer. I held my breath, as Father sat heavily in his desk chair.

"No," he said crisply.

My breathing resumed. Usually that was the end of it, but today Grandfather persisted, "I don't understand. Are you not a deacon of the church?"

"You ordained me."

"Yet you never meet with the saints."

"Nor will I."

I began to enjoy this discourse. Grandfather placed both hands on the desk and leaned toward Father. His eyes were piercing and his silver grey hair majestic.

"Your vows, they meant nothing?" he demanded.

Father smiled a half smile and stood to his feet. He held up the letters. His voice was cool and professional. "Those vows were extremely important. They meant I am free from ever paying taxes. Emperor Constantine, you remember, was very generous to deacons of the church. And with Stilicho out of the country I can retain my estates without being challenged. Beyond that, holy vows have no meaning to me at all."

Father tossed the letters on the desk. I watched him in total admiration. His ability to use every legal maneuver to his advantage was inspiring. Grandfather's response was less enthusiastic. He slowly lowered his eyes, as though he had just lost forever something very precious.

Father frowned, a touch of sadness around his eyes. "What was the second thing?"

"Yes, well," Grandfather cleared his throat, "I have something for Sucat."

I respectfully stood to my feet. Whatever Grandfather had, it was probably something I wouldn't want. Besides, after services this evening and his conversation with Old Euslid, I doubted I would be allowed to keep it.

"Sucat, you are to be congratulated," Grandfather began. "I understand you have completed the second level of your Roman education. Soon you will begin rhetorical school." Grandfather fished out of his robe a small package. "I hope one day you will put your knowledge of law and letters to better use than your father."

He handed me the package, a nondescript object, about the size of my palm, wrapped in plain brown fabric. I mumbled a thanks, but all the while I was wondering how anyone could possibly put knowledge to better use than my father had.

One of the servants entered and Father nodded for him to speak. "Lord Calpornius, Miss Audrey waits in the courtyard to see Master Sucat."

"Audrey!" I blurted out enthusiastically. "Excuse me, Grandfather." I tossed the little package into my tunic and ran out the door, carelessly bumping into the servant.

Behind me I could hear Grandfather's sad voice, "Will you go to Hell and take Sucat with you?" For a fleeting moment I felt sick inside. Why should those words depress me? Father didn't believe that. I pushed them out of my mind.

Audrey was prettier than I had ever seen her. She wasn't beautiful, really. Had that face been on anyone else, it would have been almost plain, but Audrey's sweet nature and pleasant personality made what was plain seem beautiful. Her most attractive feature, those large expressive eyes, could communicate almost as well as speech, and complimented her full lips and turned-up nose.

"Can we go somewhere?" she asked haltingly.

For four months I had anxiously anticipated this moment. I opened the door to a small drawing room just off the courtyard. She hurried inside. I followed, closing the door behind us. Immediately I slipped my arms around her and pulled her close. Her hair smelled like spring and the gentle curves of her body excited painful desire. She tried to push me away, but I held her and hungrily kissed her lips. Her whole body began to tremble, like a rabbit in the jaws of a fox.

"Please don't," she uttered fearfully.

"Shhh. It's all right, Audrey," I whispered. "No old priest is going to come along like the last time."

"I wish to God I could forget the last time," she snipped, though still trembling.

"You can't mean that."

"I keep seeing Father Molue, his robe brushing over the candle flame."

"If he hadn't tried to catch me, I wouldn't have tripped over that candle stand. You know it wasn't my fault." I tamped my niggling guilt and focused on the scent and feel of her. "Please, Audrey, forget Father Molue. Just remember the pleasure you gave me."

I then kissed her hard, determined to blot out the memory of those flames in the delirium of passion. Audrey struggled against me as I lifted her skirt. Girls were supposed to struggle. But her flutters only amused me, like a butterfly in a lion's jaws. "What other game could be so delicious, Audrey?" I whispered. "Even in losing the contest you win the prize." And like a skillful predator, I took her again ... or very nearly did.

"Stop it!" she shouted breathlessly, breaking free of my kisses. "Stop it! What makes you think that the whole world is merrier when Sucat is happy? Do you imagine this is pleasant, fun? Just you remember: I gave you my kisses. The rest you took!" Her voice broke as she spoke, and a tear coursed down one cheek.

The contempt and revulsion in her eyes was like a slap to the face. Passion fled. I reluctantly released her and backed away. So what did she come here for? Why was she trying to make me feel guilty about Father Molue's accident? Why pretend she hadn't enjoyed my body as much as I had hers?

"What you took from me, Sucat, I will never have to give again. You didn't even ask."

"But, I thought you ... Well, it's done," I said hastily, becoming irritable. "I promise no one will ever know. You can run after our good prince, Coroticus, and I'll find someone else to share my pleasures with."

"In three months everyone will know!" Audrey's eyes flashed as angry hot tears streamed down her cheeks. She gripped my hand tightly and placed it against her belly. "Your child grows in me, Sucat!"

For a moment I was stunned and unable to react. Then jerking my hand from hers, I retorted uneasily, "I don't believe you. That one time? What happened? You liked it so much you made yourself a whore?"

Audrey's face paled. She sank heavily into an armchair. Her body began jerking as great sobs deep within tried to surface. Trembling fingers pressed against her mouth to silence her anguish.

I looked away. Those words were unforgivably cruel and absolute lies as well. I was reacting, not thinking.

"Only once! Only with you!" Audrey cried out haltingly. "What am I to do, Sucat?"

Why was she asking me? But who else could she ask? The air grew unbearably warm and hard to breathe. I couldn't look at the agony in Audrey's eyes without hurting too. I didn't want to hurt, to feel this pressure, this helplessness.

"I don't know, Audrey. You'll think of something," I blurted out.

Audrey's tears suddenly burst into uncontrollable streams. She doubled over, her face on her knees, and poured out her sorrow. Never had I heard anyone grieve so deeply. My sense of helplessness degenerated to one of worthlessness.

All I could hope for now was an excuse to get out of that room. Grandfather's lessons about morality and "the wages of sin" filled my thoughts. I resented hearing those lessons before, and I doubly resented my mind reviewing them now. Irritation and anger crowded the pity from my heart. Couldn't Audrey cry quietly, or better yet, go somewhere else to cry? From outside I heard the welcome voice of my father.

"Sucat, are you ready to go?"

"Sh-h-h," I commanded Audrey. "Yes, Father," I shouted toward the door.

Audrey looked at me with eyes full of disbelief. Could I abandon her? For what seemed an agonizingly long time, my eyes were held captive by those expressive eyes, full of tragic, hopeless despair, eyes that would haunt me the rest of my life. Tearing myself away, I fled out the door and away from all my troubles, or so I presumed.

It should have been just another adventure, a harmless flouting of archaic rules, I told myself. Yet in one day, no, in one hour, I had dug such a pit. I couldn't possibly know what a dreadful harvest I would reap from one day's careless sowing!