Carry on Monking 1

"Why won't you light a candle to the emperor, then?"
"Because it's idolatory Mum," said Father Tertullian.
"You light a candle to Jesus in church," said Dad.
"That's because I'm a priest.  It's my job to stand under a big statue of Jesus and light all the
candles.  It's all right for a Christian to worship Jesus."
"Lighting a candle to the emperor would be the same," said Dad.
"But Jesus is God.  Jesus is the Light of the World.  To light a candle to anybody else would
be idolatory."
"Quinny, if you don't want to light a candle to the emperor we could do it for you," said Dad.
"I don't want you to worship Satan."
"Emperor Diocletian is not Satan. The Romans have done good things."
"What have they done Dad?"
"Roads, aqueducts, giving all our houses central heating, invading countries full of cavemen
and bringing them into civilisation."
"Your dad's right.  He's a good emperor.  The least you can do is light a candle to him."
"I never said that Emperor Diocletian was useless at his job.  I'm sure he's a perfectly good
emperor.  I just don't think he's God and I don't think he should be worshipped.  What's the
point of lighting a candle to a human emperor?"
"It shows that you're a good and loyal subject," said Mum.
"I'll do it for you," said Dad.  "I'll pretend that I'm you."
"Oh look," said Mum, "a card addressed to you personally, from the emperor himself.
Dear Father Quinneth Tertullian, I request your presence at a sacrifice in my temple that will be
attended by all the priests from all the provinces of Italy and after tea and cakes and meat
from the sacrifice we'll be going straight down the arena to throw some Christians to the wild
beasts."
"I wish the emperor would send me a personal invitation," said Dad.  "He's never invited me
anywhere."
"Dad, you can't take my place at the sacrifice.  The emperor knows me personally. I'm going
to take a boat to England."

Father Tertullian walked to the dockside.  He met a man standing next to a large Roman galley.
"I want to go to England."
"Megagalley.  Travel to Barbaria for only 5 minas."
"Do you charge extra for luggage?"  The man laughed.
"You won't be able to take any luggage." Father Tertullian gave the man 5 minas.
"Thank you Sir.  I'll just chain you to one of the oars."  He led Father Tertullian on to the boat
and began chaining him to an oar.
"How long does it take to get to Barbaria?"
"The ship has got oars and sails so it does a hundred miles a day.  About 3 weeks.  Just put
your foot through the irons."
"Does the boat have a toilet?"
"Your toilet is the space between those two wooden boards.  Don't use it when there's
anyone underneath."
"Is there a buffet trolley?"
"There's a guard who comes along once every night when you get a 5 minute break.  He'll
give you a bread roll and beaker of water.  I haven't fastened the irons yet.  You've got two
minutes to change your mind."
"No.  I'm a Christian priest.  There's an awful lot of Christians being killed in the arena these
days.  I've just got to get to the furthest outpost of the empire possible."
"You couldn't be much further away than Barbaria and Pictland."  For 3 weeks the guard sat
banging his drum and the passengers sat chained to their oars singing,
"Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream,
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream."

While Father Tertullian was on the boat the sacrifice took place in the arena.  Emperor
Diocletian was furious.
"I'm going to have these two women thrown to the bulls.  They refused to light a candle to me
and persuaded others to do the same.  They kept quoting this book that was written by a
madman who was imprisoned on an island somewhere.  They called me a beast.  Well, I
know I'm a little overweight but I hardly deserve to be called a beast.  Guards, bring on my
prize bull.  These two shall be thrown to my pet minotaur."  A man came up to the women.
"You're those two women who are being thrown to the wild beasts."
"We are just like anybody else."
"You misunderstand me.  I have come to see you because I want to be a martyr."
"Well, funnily enough we don't, it just happened."
"You should be excited.  You're going to Heaven to be with Jesus.  Jesus died for you.
You should die for him.  People will see how much you love God.  Lots of people will
become Christians if they see you thrown to the wild beasts.  The blood of the martyrs is the
seed of the church."
"If you think it's so wonderful come and join us, come and be martyred with us."
"Oh no, not tonight.  I don't like the way that minotaur keeps waving its horns about.  I'm sure
God needs me on Earth for a few more years."
Father Tertuallian's parents were in the audience at the sacrifice.
"What pleasure do you have in seeing people thrown to the wild beasts?" asked Mum.
"It's not for sadistic reasons, Dear.  The animals are really clever.  That's not just any
ordinary bull that's down there tonight, it's Emporer Diocletian's own personal pet minotaur.
You must admit it's really clever the way it scoops people up on top of its horns and hurls
them across to the other side of the arena."

Father Tertullian had arrived in England.  He knocked on someone's door.  A man opened the
door.
"Hello," said Father Tertullian.  "I've been walking all the way from the quayside until I came to
this little village.  Could you tell me where I am?"
"Albany Village."
"I've just arrived here by boat from Rome.  Is there somewhere I can wash these robes?
Sorry about the smell.  I've been rowing a boat for 3 weeks."
"Give me the robes," said the man.  "I'll wash them for you."
"Thank you.  I'm Father Tertullian.  What's your name?"
"Alan.  Why do you have robes, Mr. Turtle?  Are you someone very important?  Are you part
of the Roman government?"
"Oh no, I'm a Christian priest, trying to get away from an emporer who keeps throwing people
to his pet bulls."
"Oh dear.  They might still find you.  This is a Roman colony.  I'll wear your robes.  If the
Romans want me to make a sacrifice, I'll just do it and they'll think I'm you."
"Bless you.  You're a saint, Alan."

"What's it all about, this Christian priest thing, Mr. Turtle?"
"Please, call me Father."
"Well, Father, what's this Christian priest thing all about?"
"Jesus was the Son of God."
"The son of a god?"
"The one son of the real God who made everything."
"That's fascinating, Father Turtle.  One of our Druid priests had a dream about the god who
made all the other gods."
"That's him all right.  Except that the gods you worship are demons."
"Demons Father Turtle?  Aren't those the little fairies that live at the bottom of the garden?"
"The God that I believe in made good spirits and evil spirits and the evil spirits pretend to be
gods.  That is what you worship."
"Does your god get angry when people worship evil fairies instead of him?"
"Yes he does.  You should worship the Lord God and have no other gods before him."
"And not worship the evil fairies at the bottom of the garden?"
"No."
"What's he like, this god who made all the other gods?"
"He's the Most High.  He loves you.  He sent his only Son."
"How can a god have a son?"
"God became a man."
"The most high god who made all the other gods became a man?  That's fascinating.  What
did people think of him?"
"They killed him."
"No.  But Father, if he was the big god who made all the other gods, why didn't he just stop
them?"
"His death made peace between man and God."
"Hasn't God always been peaceful?"
"He's a holy God.  He is angry with you because of your sins.  Your sins have seperated you
from God."
"Have they?"
"Jesus died on the cross so that you could be forgiven."
"On a cross Father?  In pain?"
"Definitely.  And he rose from the dead so you could live forever.  You will rise from the dead
if you believe in him."
"Wow.  Father Turtle can you do some of your priest magic stuff?"
"What kind of magic stuff?"
"The druid priests can cast spells and work miracles.  Are you good at that?"
"The greatest miracle is mass."
"What's mass?"
"Find me some bread and wine and I can make them into the body and blood of Christ.
Whoever drinks of his body and blood will have eternal life."
"Wow.  I'll have a look around the house and see if I can find some bread and wine."  Alan
left the room and returned with a glass of wine and a small roll.
"I'll have to say some prayers in Latin.  Then the bread and wine change into the body and
blood of our Lord."  Father Tertullian said some prayers.  "There, it's ready.  Take some of
that and you'll with Jesus forever after you die."
"I'd love to do that."

The next day Father Tertullian left Albany Village in some of Alan's old clothes.  Alan himself
was wearing the priest's robes.  He could not light a candle to a Roman emperor now, not
after what Father Tertullian had taught him about Christianity.  Alan would be in danger if the
Romans came looking for Father Tertullian, and they were sure to come sooner of later.  Alan
decided to take a boat to Scotland.  He walked for three hours to get to the quayside.  He
spoke to the captain of a small boat.
"I met a Christian priest who was on the run from the Romans.  I said, I'll put on your robes and
I'll pretend to be you."
"A brave thing to do," said the captain.
"I intended to make a sacrifice to the emperor when they came for me.  But now I can't.  You
see, the priest  explained to me about Jesus and Christiantiy.  Now I believe in it."
"They'll come and find you.  I know what to do.  I'll take you past Edinburgh and all the way
up to Falkirk.  That's right in the middle of Pictland.  The Romans will never find you there.  
They don't want to conquer Pictland.  They built a wall to keep the Picts out."  Alan got on to
the boat.
"Why are you wearing those robes?" one of the passengers asked.  "Are you someone
very important."
"No, I'm a priest."
"A pagan priest?"
"No.  A Christian priest."
"Are you going to preach the gospel to the Picts?"
"Yes," Alan lied, but wondered if it might be a good idea.
"Well, rather you than me."  It grew dark.  The boat had no lighting.  It was buffetted and tossed
by the waves.  The rain came pouring down.  The night dragged painfully, sleeplessly on.
Then the morning sun revealed a calmer, brighter day.
"How long will it take?" asked Alan.
"Two days to Edinburgh, three days to Falkirk," said the Captain.  "Everyone else is going to
Edinburgh.  You're the only one going to Falkirk."   The next night it was calm and clear.  Alan
looked up at the moon and the stars.
"Praise the Lord!" he said.
"Praise the what?" asked one of the passengers.
"Praise the God who made the stars and the heavens in their beautiful array."
"Your god did that?"
"Yes."
"Father, tell me a story about this God."
"He became a little baby and was born in a manger.  God became a man.  He gave up his
heavenly home and walked among us."
"What did people think of that?"
"They killed him."
"But Father, you can't kill a god, especially not the god who made the heavens."
"He rose from the dead.  They looked in his tomb and his body wasn't there anymore."
"An interesting story Father, like the stories of the Norse gods.  We have plenty of stories
like that in our religion too."  The next morning they arrived at Edinburgh.  It was a clear sunny
day.  It was a beautiful city, although it was really only the size of a modern village.  The other
passengers disembarked.  Alan stayed on the boat for another weary, storm tossed night.  He
fell in the dark and thanked God that none of his bones were broken.  In the morning, there
was Falkirk.  The captain brought the ship into the dock.
"The monastery is just over there," he said pointing.  "Just keep walking.  You'll get there by
the time it gets dark."  

Alan left the boat and started on his way.  After 3 days cooped up in a little boat a 20 mile
walk didn't seem so bad.  The sun came out and dried his clothes.  He was hungry, very
hungry.  He stopped at an inn.
"I'm looking for the monastery.  Am I going in the right direction?"
"Just keep going," the innkeeper said.  "You're on the right road.  You'll get there before
night comes.  What do want to eat?"
"I'll have some fish, a couple of bread rolls and a pint of ale, oh, and I'll have one of those
pies for the boys in the monastery."
"That'll be tuppence ha'penny," said the inkeeper.  Alan finished eating and set off to the
monastery with the pie tucked under his arm.  When he arrived there it was starting to
get dark.  The monastery was on a grass bank overlooking the sea.  The abbott came to the
door.
"Hello," he said.  "Are you a priest?"
"I'd like to be a priest.  Could you train me as a priest?  I saved the life of a priest called
Father Turtle who was on the run from the Romans.  I took his robe and pretended to be him.
But he taught me about Christianity and he converted me.  So then I feared for my life, so off
I ran."
"Wonderful story," said the abbott.  "We could certainly train you as a priest."
"As a token of my gratitude I have brought you this pie."
"Oh, thank you but no.  The men wouldn't want a pie.  They are happy living on the plants
they pick in the forest."
"Father Bones," shouted Brother Bere, "with respect.  Our brother has gone to all the trouble
to buy this pie as a gift and to bring it here.  Grass, herbs and blackberries are good things
and I never get tired of them but this pie is a gift from the kindness of our brother's heart.  He
would be awfully offended if the pie was broken up and left on the ground for the birds."
"Hmm.  Very well, Brother Bere, the men may eat the pie."  The abbot disappeared.  Brother
Bere looked at Alan and smiled.
"Works every time.  Good afternoon.  Where are you from?"
"Albany village in Barbaria.  It's half a days walk from the River Tyne."
"So it's nice and handy for the river.  I hear you want to be a priest."
"Nothing would please me more."
"Come and stay at the monastery and we'll give you all the instruction that you need.  Then we can ordain you."
"Wonderful."