“We did it!” the shoemaker shouted, and pounded on Crotus’ back with a hand he detached for a moment from Perseus’ cap. “We did it!” He let out a great ringing shout of joy.
Great ringing shouts of joy rose from the walls of Thessalonica, too, as the defenders of the city watched the siege break up before their eyes. Gates opened. militiamen came forth to harry the Slavs and Avars as they withdrew. A few of the militiamen stared in wonder at the still-rampaging centaurs and tried to approach them. More, though, paid them no attention whatever, as if doing their best to pretend, perhaps even to themselves, that the creatures from a bygone era did not, could not, exist in modern, Christian times.
From the wall, faint but unmistakable, came Bishop Eusebius’ voice: “In the name of God, in the name of Jesus Christ, in the name of the holy martyr St. Demetrius, let all pagan powers depart this land. May it henceforth be free of them forevermore!”
Beneath George, Crotus shuddered as if an arrow had pierced its vitals. Behind him, all the centaurs cried out. They began to move away from Thessalonica. Even mad with wine, they could not bear the power of holy names directed specifically against them. The last thing George wanted was to be taken away from Thessalonica when he’d gone through so much to get back there. As carefully as he could, he slid from Crotus’ back to the ground.
That turned out not to be carefully enough. He couldn’t keep his feet, but went down onto his backside. Perseus’ cap fell off his head. He grabbed it and started to put it back on, but then, when a centaur dodged around him, realized that might not be a good idea right away. If the centaurs saw him, they could avoid him. If they didn’t see him, they’d trample him without knowing he was there.
Impelled by the name of God, the band of centaurs fled back up into the hills with amazing speed. Not a bowshot away from George, Father Luke stood staring back at their retreating hindquarters. He waved to the shoemaker. George waved, too, and walked toward him.
Father Luke clapped him on the back when he came up. “Thank you,” the priest said. “I want to tell you, this has been, I think, the most astonishing day of my life, and I wouldn’t have had the chance to take part in these great events if not for you.”
“If that’s how you look at things, Your Reverence, you’re welcome,” said George, who would have been as happy-- happier--to have had no part whatever in these great events. “And will you thank me tomorrow? When you go back into the city, you’ll have to explain to Bishop Eusebius what you’ve been doing.”
“He will set me a penance, I will accept and perform it, and we’ll go on as we did before,” the priest answered. “With the siege broken and Thessalonica delivered from the Slavs and Avars, he may not be too harsh.”
“I hope you’re right,” George said.
Father Luke looked concerned. “But what of you, George? You still have troubles with Menas. I will do all I can for you, but I do not know how much that will be. Menas is a powerful man. He had a will of his own even before God gave him back the use of his legs, and now--”
By way of answer, George did put Perseus’ cap on again. He patted Father Luke on the back. Then, when the priest turned one way, he went around and tapped him on the other shoulder. Father Luke turned again. George patted him on the head. A moment later, he poked him in the ribs. A grin stretched across the shoemaker’s face. Father Luke could not see that grin, which was exactly the point.
“I think I can manage,” George said out of thin air.
“I think you may be right,” Father Luke admitted, fortunately not angry at the cavalier way the shoemaker had treated him. “Try not to be so ferocious in your rejoinder that you make a new martyr.”
“I’ll--try,” George said grudgingly. Menas hadn’t shown any such restraint toward him. Menas had done his level best to get him killed, and the rich noble’s best had almost been good enough.
“Good.” Father Luke started walking toward Thessalonica George followed invisibly. The gates remained open. Some militiamen were still corning out to pursue the Slavs and Avars. Others, many with light wounds, came back into the city. No one paid much attention to Father Luke as he walked toward the Litaean Gate. No one paid any attention to George at all. Invisibility had its advantages.
On the other hand, he might have painted himself orange with green stripes and got into Thessalonica unchallenged right then. So long as the men coming in didn’t look like Slavs or Avars, the guards who stayed at the gates weren’t bothering them. The guards were not in a bothering mood. They were passing a jar of wine back and forth. He wondered what Rufus would say about that. Give me some, most likely. George walked past the guards into the city.
XII
People packed the narrow, winding streets. They pounded one another on the back. They shouted out bits of song, generally off-key. Men and women kissed in doorways or sometimes out in the middle of the street, blocking other traffic. Nobody showered them with abuse, not now. George would have bet anything anyone cared to name that not all, or even most, of the couples embracing were married to each other. Nobody cared, not now.
He spied a familiar tall, thin figure. The Thessalonicans were so overjoyed at being delivered from the Slavs and Avars, they even included Benjamin the Jew in their celebration. No one showered him with abuse either, not now. He looked absurdly confused. He had no idea how to cope with acceptance. It wasn’t anything he’d ever had to worry about before.
Then he spotted George. He smiled, waved, and picked his way through the crowd toward the shoemaker. He clasped his hand. “Praise the Lord, to see you here and well,” he exclaimed. “I had heard you were lost beyond the wall, which grieved me greatly.”
“I was lost beyond the wall,” George said. “I managed to get back.”
“God must think well of you,” Benjamin said.
George wondered about that. If God thought so well of him, why had He put him through so much trouble and danger? Why had He inflicted Menas on him? Why, for that matter, had He cured Menas, so the noble had a fresh chance to inflict himself not just on George but also on the rest of Thessalonica?
Before George could come up with answers for any of those questions, a different, more obvious one occurred to him. “You can see me!” he exclaimed. Of itself, his hand went to his head. Yes, he was still wearing Perseus’ cap. “How is it you can see me?”
“With my eyes?” Benjamin suggested, which was, George supposed, about as near as the sobersided Jew came to making a joke. Before either of them could take the question further, the crowd separated them. Someone stepped on George’s toes. In the crush, whether that fellow saw him or not was irrelevant.
Under the rim of Perseus’ cap, George scratched his head. The Slavic demons and demigods hadn’t plagued the Jewish district of Thessalonica, and now Benjamin not only penetrated the pagan Greek enchantment that lay over George, he didn’t even seem to notice there was an enchantment to penetrate. George didn’t know exactly what that meant. Whatever it was, he had the strong feeling Bishop Eusebius would not approve.
He got stepped on several more times before he finally reached his own street, and elbowed, and kneed, and poked. In close quarters, invisibility had its disadvantages, too. When he did get to his own street, the first thing he found was Claudia arguing with the woman who lived next door to her and Dactylius. Between them was a pile of garbage someone--George didn’t know who--had thrown into the street right between the two houses. If the two women knew the Slavs and Avars had been routed and the siege of Thessalonica broken, they didn’t care. George smiled. Some things didn’t change.