Caliphate

Intersection, A3 and KT11, Province of Affrankon,

11 Rajab, 1533 AH (10 June, 2109)

The wind had slackened and the rain had come. Hans shivered under his field cloak, still looking up at the priest hanging high on his cross. The others were dead, now, though their bodies would remain for most of another day. The priest, though he was older than his charges, appeared to Hans to have hung on this long through a sheer act of will, through the sheer determination to comfort the others with words, song and prayer until such time as they no longer needed him.

Weakly, the priest's teeth sought the chain of the crucifix about his neck. They found that chain eventually, and the old man's teeth nipped the chain in two, allowing it to fall to the base of the cross. If the hard metal of the chain broke his teeth, the priest gave no sign. Then the priest gave Hans a glare that said, more strongly than any words, Take up the cross.

The priest then whispered, "Deus vult . . . Deus vult."

Hans could not imagine the pain the priest had endured. He felt deeply ashamed. I gave up my faith over a few minutes in the pushup position. He held onto his through all this.

And perhaps that is why God might demand that his prophet endure crucifixion, Hans thought. And perhaps that is why it had to be his son that was crucified.

And perhaps I and my comrades have been lied to.

When no one was looking, and with the priest's breathing reduced to an intermittent and unconscious labor, Hans went to the base of the cross, and took the crucifix by its bitten-through chain.