“Let him remain with me! I shall devour him myself. Go to the woods at once, and do not return till you see the moon!”

‘You are like Cartaphilus, Kotikokura,’ I thought. ‘We ought to be good company for each other.’ I touched his face, and looked into his small phosphorescent eyes that moved incessantly.

“Do not fear, Kotikokura, I shall not harm you.”

He grinned.

His teeth were very large and yellowish.

“Who are you?” I asked.

He grinned.

“Would you care to accompany Ca-ta-pha the god?”

He continued to grin, but he made no answer. Had he understood me? Could he speak? It did not matter. His muscles looked like iron, and I needed a servant. “Come along!” The camel galloped, but Kotikokura ran still faster, and the parrot screeched, as he flew over our heads: “Carr-tarr-pharr…”

I awoke with a start. A snake had bitten me. I could see the tip of his tail disappear in the sand. My arm began to swell. Was I to die at last, and in the desert? Had Jesus forgotten to bind the snake? Was I, after all, vulnerable? Kotikokura grasped my arm, and began to suck it. His lips pulled at my skin like a leech. “You will die, my poor fellow. My blood is a worse poison than the venom of a snake.”

My arm assumed its normal size, but Kotikokura did not die. Had one poison neutralized the other, or being an outcast, was the blood of this curious fellow, akin to mine? Would he, like me, continue to live indefinitely? I decided to keep him, and see what would happen.

Suddenly an idea struck me. Perhaps…perhaps the years had attenuated the power of the poison. Perhaps I had become like the others. I would put it to a test. I sprinkled some drops over the parrot’s food. He swallowed a few of the seeds, and began to screech: “Carr-tarr…” He stopped, rolled his eyes, and fell upon his back, as if struck by lightning.

I was still Cartaphilus.

Kotikokura plucked the bird, and devoured it, grinning. ‘A beast,” I thought. A few moments later, he chose the largest plume and stuck it in his hair. ‘But a man, nevertheless.’

KOTIKOKURA understood me in whatever language I spoke. Was he a linguist, or merely an animal, sensitive to the tone of my voice and the change in my features? His answers were a grin, a growl, some inarticulate sounds, or a movement of the shoulders and head.

“Kotikokura, we are going into civilization. You must look civilized.” He grinned. “I shall teach you how to shave the few threads of hair on your face, and the fur upon your arms and chest, at least. Also, you must get accustomed to wear clothes, according to the country you happen to be in. The meaning of civilization is to look like the rest.”

He still grinned. His eyes galloped from one corner to the other, He was on the point of dropping upon his palms. “Be thou erect, or be made erect!” So said an Emperor, Kotikokura,—an Emperor who was also a philosopher, which is an extremely rare thing.”

Kotikokura stiffened up, his head thrown back.

“Not quite so much, Kotikokura. Man should not be always looking at the stars. One’s eyes should watch the solid earth. All good things grow out of the earth, Kotikokura; the stars generate mad dreams, harmful for those who harbor them.”

A man was standing upon the steps leading to the Capitol. About him was gathered a large multitude. Some shouted: “Maxentius! Maxentius!” Others, in greater numbers, drowned their voices: “Constantine! Constantine!”

“He alone will rule who believes in Jesus!” exclaimed the man, making the sign of the cross. “The cross shall conquer!”

I saw many crossing themselves; others frowned; some grumbled, but no one assaulted the speaker, no one even hissed him.

“Is Jesus the new god of war? Has Mars been replaced?” I asked.

“Jesus is the only god. The rest are idols.”

Not even this answer disturbed the populace.

“Is not Jesus one of the gods of the Pantheon?”

“Jesus is god of the world, and he who believes in Jesus shall conquer the world.”

I made a careful investigation of the military situation. Constantine was stronger and cleverer than Maxentius, it was universally recognized. The armies of both leaders were encamped within three or four miles of Rome, and it was but a matter of days now before they would strike the final blow. I decided to join Constantine.

“It is always advisable, Kotikokura, to side with the strong, for the gods favor them.” He grinned and bowed. I had taught him by this time the necessary rules of etiquette. He learned very rapidly, and imitated perfectly.

“He who draws the sword shall perish by the sword,” Jesus taught. Did not this also refer to nations and religions? If Constantine should win because he had drawn the sword in the name of Christianity, should not Christianity perish by the same gesture?

“Things are most illogical, Kotikokura, and yet, an intelligent man must act as if life were governed by reason.”

I shaved Kotikokura’s back, and blackened it. Upon it, with my chemical, I drew the sign of the cross, and underneath it, I wrote: In hoc signo vinces! “In this sign thou shalt conquer.” I ordered him to dress again. “Kotikokura, I am making you immortal, perhaps.” His back itched him, and he scratched himself. “No, you must not do that until I allow you.” He bowed.

The hillock that faced Constantine’s army was almost perpendicular, and terminated in a sharp point. The night was darker than usual. “Things favor us, Kotikokura. I depend upon your agility. Climb the hill, and stand with your back turned. Do not move until I call you. I shall remain at the base.”

In a few moments, Kotikokura appeared upon the peak, or rather merely the cross and the words I had written. They dazzled and shivered against the sky like a new and splendid constellation. I was almost prompted myself to bend my knee in adoration and exclaim: “I believe!”

Suddenly Constantine’s camp flamed with the lights of many torches. I knew that Kotikokura’s back had accomplished its work. “Come down, Kotikokura!” Almost instantly, as if he had flown, Kotikokura stood grinning before me. I ordered him to dress again, and follow me home.

Near the Capitol, many people were kneeling. I asked the reason for it.

“Have you not seen the great miracle?”

“What great miracle?”

“The sky shone with stars in the shape of the cross.”

“Really?”

“I have never seen or heard of such a marvelous thing.”

“I am a Roman. I believed in the gods of my forefathers, but this very hour I have become a Christian.”

“The whole world shall become Christian now, for do not the same stars shine everywhere, and who, having seen what we have seen, will continue to doubt?”

I felt uneasy. Had my ruse defeated my very purpose? “We shall see, Kotikokura, if a religion that preaches love can long exist by the sword.” Kotikokura grinned, and scratched himself violently. “You may scratch as much as you wish now. You have become history.”

I bent over the balustrade of my balcony. To my right, the Bosphorus rose in jerky waves, tipped with foam, like some angry giant cat spitting; to my left an immense cross of gold glittered over the ancient Greek temple; while below me, massed on both sides of the street, the multitude awaited the Emperor’s arrival at the New Rome, Constantinople. The silver trumpets and the cymbals could already be heard by the keener ears. People exclaimed: “They are coming!” in Greek, Latin, and several dialects.

Immediately behind the trumpeters, who served primarily to disperse the crowds, came with deliberate, proud steps the Christian High Priest, recently appointed by Constantine. He was dressed in a white silk robe with gold stripes; in his right hand he carried a large golden crucifix, studded with precious stones, the gift of the Emperor. He seemed to be of pure Roman blood, and looked more like a soldier than a martyr or a man versed in the mysteries of the spirit. On either side two boys were scattering incense, and behind him about forty or fifty priests, in white silk robes, but without the gold stripes, and carrying crosses, chanted an old Hebrew homily in Latin words.