Moments earlier, while Rodrigo and his companions were still fighting in the New World, a new story was unfolding in a powerful kingdom established in Eastern Europe called the Kingdom of Rus. This kingdom covered part of what is now eastern Ukraine, Belarus, and western Russia.
It was the last day of winter. In Kiev, the capital of the Kingdom of Rus, Maslenitsa was being celebrated, a festival that had been held in ancient times to await the rising of the new spring sun. For that reason, people made a kind of cake called blini and burned a straw doll in the fire to represent the goddess of fertility.
The city of Kiev was the largest city in the Kingdom of Rus, as well as its capital. This territory was ruled by Vladimir I, who had inherited the throne from his father, Sviatoslav I, in the year 972.
Some years earlier, Sviatoslav I had defeated a powerful kingdom called the Khazar Khaganate, which occupied part of what is now southern Ukraine, northern Crimea, and southwestern Russia, stretching from the Black Sea to the Caspian Sea. One peculiar feature of that kingdom was that its rulers had adopted the Jewish faith, possibly to maintain better relations with the Eastern Roman Empire, which lay just to their south. However, after their defeat, Judaism had been forbidden, and their population returned to its pagan practices.
Vladimir I, on the other hand, was a fervent enemy of Christianity and of any monotheistic religion. A hunt against such religions had been carried out throughout the territories currently under his rule. These acts greatly displeased the church of Constantinople, the capital of the Eastern Roman Empire.
Despite the success this kingdom was having, in itself it was not so different from other barbarian kingdoms surrounding the region of Byzantium. In fact, this kingdom had been established by Norse warriors and explorers, particularly from Sweden, who had settled in this region and constantly used it to seek slaves. Thus, this kingdom had gone from being a small Viking slave market to a powerful kingdom in the Middle Ages.
There was a great commotion in the city of Kiev that afternoon because of the festivities. There was food everywhere, singing, dancing, and fires. It was a time of great joy at the end of the terrible winter. However, something else was also happening: the arrival of several Varangian guards with a retinue of monks from Constantinople.
Although Kiev was the capital of the Kingdom of Rus, it still looked like an enormous village made of wooden houses called “izbas.” The town was protected by a singular palisade. However, in the center of the city, a palisade made of enormous oak logs protected the highest precinct of the city. There stood the castle of the king of Rus, along with sacred shrines belonging to the religion of these people. This enormous structure was called the “Kremlin.”
The retinue of soldiers and monks walked proudly and slowly through the vast markets of Kiev. Vegetables, pottery, precious objects, and people were sold there. It should be noted that, unlike many Christian kingdoms in Europe, the Kingdom of Rus still maintained its custom of trading slaves. Most of them were Slavs and Poles captured in the northwestern areas of the kingdom. There were also people from the Baltic, kingdoms located north of Rus.
Blond men dressed in greenish tunics and wide trousers, together with women wearing sarafans and ornaments in their hair, looked at the group of people who had arrived with surprise and caution. Many wondered why a group of monks from Constantinople would enter their city, knowing that King Vladimir loathed Christianity. Rumors and gossip traveled nonstop through the village.
The guards of the Kremlin, men wearing conical metal helmets that covered their eyes, along with chainmail and red cloaks, opened the gate for the retinue. The monks looked at Kiev’s architecture with surprise, but also with a little contempt.
While the Varangian guards looked just like the guards protecting the Kremlin, the monks from Constantinople wore red habits called exorason, which were long and reached the ground. Since Kiev had no paved streets, those habits were already filthy, covered in mud and dirt. They also wore red hoods and sandals. In their hands, all of them carried a metal staff with the image of a cross at the top.
The retinue passed before the highest hill of Kiev. Upon it stood six wooden statues representing the gods worshiped in that kingdom. There was a combination of Slavic and Finnish deities. Even though this kingdom had been settled by Swedish merchants and warriors, the pantheon they worshiped belonged entirely to the gods venerated in that region.
In the middle of those statues, the only statue with a head made of gold and silver, and also visibly taller than the others, represented the god Perun, god of thunder and the sky in the Slavic pantheon. His hair and mustache were made of gold, while his warrior helmet and face were silver. It was impossible not to see how that statue shone beneath the light of the sun setting over the great city.
To the left side of that great hill, Vladimir’s castle rose majestically. The fortress, though simple, was built entirely of wood and stone, with four watchtowers and a water moat surrounding the fortification.
At the main gate, where a bridge joined the land to the castle, an enormous golden symbol shaped like a trident rose, drawn upon a cloth. It was the symbol Vladimir had chosen to represent his kingdom.
“His Majesty Vladimir is expecting you,” said one of the guards protecting the bridge over the moat.
The retinue entered immediately.
After advancing several meters through the central area of the palace, the group entered the castle’s main tower. There, there was a spacious wooden hall with several drawings on the walls. In the center was the classic trident they had all seen, while on the left was the drawing of the tree Yggdrasil, remnants of the Norse elements of that kingdom. Finally, on the right, several geometric symbols were drawn, representing the principal Slavic gods.
The hall was lit by bonfires and carpeted with red and blue rugs. It was so silent that no sound could be heard, not even the bustle outside the palace.
“His Majesty will receive you shortly,” said a man who emerged from a wide wooden door placed beneath the symbol of the trident. He was a tall man with thick black hair.
The man wore a blue rubaha with golden ornaments, as well as wide salmon-colored trousers. This individual bowed to the group of soldiers standing beside the Byzantine monks.
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The soldiers then formed a line before the door in an almost robotic manner and stopped, allowing the monks to enter the king’s chamber alone. There were five monks in total, though the central monk clearly seemed to hold a higher rank than the other four.
While the monks were elderly men with long white beards and tired gazes, the central monk was very different, for he was very beautiful. He had precious, bright olive-colored eyes and short, curly golden hair. The man was also rather tall. Generally, the men of Byzantium were shorter than the men of Rus, with roughly ten centimeters of difference, but the leading monk was easily over one meter eighty, which made him taller than the average inhabitant of Rus.
The chamberlain stared fixedly at the leading monk while maintaining his respectful posture. A look of apparent discomfort passed between them. The chamberlain’s black eyes shone as if the moon had been reflected in them. Although it seemed like a moment of great tension, they exchanged no words, and the man, together with the other monks, continued walking.
Seated on a wooden throne, with several curtains embroidered with the aforementioned trident hanging on the wall behind him, Vladimir waited, filled with excitement. Varangian soldiers guarded him zealously, keeping their hands on the hilts of their swords.
“You have finally returned! I have been eagerly awaiting your arrival, priests of Constantinople,” Vladimir said with a smile, like a child seeing a new toy he had long desired.
Vladimir was a tall, blond, bearded man. He wore a golden crown with gems upon his head, and his skin was as white as snow. He had beautiful green eyes, accompanied by a jovial gaze. He wore a fine blue tunic with golden ornaments, tied to his red belt, where he kept a dagger. His hands bore several rings, and his neck was adorned with many necklaces set with precious stones.
The monks immediately prostrated themselves before the king, while he ordered them to rise.
“Your Majesty Vladimir,” said the leading monk in East Slavic. “We are most grateful that you have shown interest in learning more about Constantinople and Christianity.”
“I simply cannot believe what you have told me about that city!” Vladimir said, very excited. “Is it true that you have a cathedral much larger than this palace, and that it has a round dome?” he asked.
“Indeed, Your Majesty,” the monk replied. “Our engineers and architects have reached the summit of knowledge thanks to the blessing of the Holy Trinity.”
The man turned to look at the symbol of the trident Vladimir used.
“Your Majesty, I can see that you, too, have a concept of the trinity in those symbols you use,” the monk said with a smile so beautiful and captivating that even the soldiers themselves could not help feeling overwhelmed.
“Indeed, but in our case, it represents the sun, the moon, and the earth; elements that need one another to coexist,” Vladimir replied cheerfully.
“The Divine Trinity is the same, Your Majesty,” the superior monk added.
“And we are gladly willing to teach you more about our religion, which you have so long persecuted and discriminated against,” the man reproached him with a gaze that evoked sorrow. His performance was such that even the guards themselves felt the need to weep, though they held it in.
Vladimir, for his part, looked sorrowful and was crying, full of shame and embarrassment.
“I know, I know; but I was always misinformed about Christianity,” he replied. “My father hated it, and that was the only teaching I received from him. But I wish not only to mend this relationship, but also to achieve the same prestige Constantinople holds in the world.”
The monk then spoke a few words in Greek to another of his companions. The man nodded and approached the king with several papyri. The guards moved closer to their king to protect him, but Vladimir indicated that it was not necessary.
The monk bowed and offered the scrolls to the curious king. He accepted them and began looking through them. They were engravings and drawings of Constantinople. The king could not believe the size of that city and the drawings of those cathedrals. Although they were medieval drawings, the king could form an idea of how majestic that city looked, and at that moment, he dreamed of how Kiev might look that way.
“As you can see, Your Majesty Vladimir,” the leading monk added, “your city of Kiev can become as great and prosperous as Constantinople if you decide to accept Christ into your life. He will bless you with wisdom and prosperity so that you may have a kingdom just as magnificent, as He glorified wise Solomon.”
“Yes, I feel I have wasted my life on those miserable pieces of wood on the hill,” the king replied sadly.
These comments, however, seemed to annoy the chamberlain, who stood before the door.
The monk discreetly turned to look at the chamberlain and gave him a triumphant smile. The man said nothing.
“Tell me, monk. I would like you to help our sages and shamans learn about your faith. What do you think?” Vladimir asked, very excited.
“It would be a great honor, Your Majesty,” the monk replied.
Vladimir then raised his fist to the sky very enthusiastically.
“That is fabulous!” he said in a very jovial manner.
“Speaking of which, what is your name, wise monk?” Vladimir asked, intrigued.
The leading monk bowed and knelt before the king.
“I am Apollonius of Constantinople. It will be an honor to Christianize your beautiful kingdom,” he replied.
After meeting with the king, the monks were escorted by the chamberlain and a retinue of guards who took them to their quarters. They were rather modest, with wooden beds covered in bearskins. Since it was the beginning of spring, the cold was still harsh at that hour of the night, though a small fireplace warmed the room. There was also a table with cups of fresh water.
The monks thanked the chamberlain and entered the room, except for the leader of the group, who made a mocking face at the chamberlain. The man ignored him and withdrew together with the soldiers.
The blond monk then saw a window facing the hill of the gods and leaned out to look at the statues, of which the main one shone like a pearl in the dark night thanks to the moonlight. Then the man heard footsteps and merely smiled mockingly.
“A sword strike to the nape, then another to my back,” the man said in the divine language without losing his mocking smile.
At that moment, a man behind the monk attempted to attack him with his sword, but the holy man stopped the weapon with his bare hand, just as, with his other hand, he threw a spark to the floor to create a new dimension.
Wrapped inside the alternate dimension, Apollonius destroyed the sword of the man who had attacked him with his bare hand and smiled.
“Do you not agree with your king’s wishes, Veles?” he asked mockingly.
Standing behind Apollonius was the chamberlain. He was the one who had tried to attack the monk.
“Could you not have been more obvious? Shitty Hellenic god,” the chamberlain said. “Besides, I doubt I would have given you my name beforehand.”
The monk began to laugh quietly and turned to look at the chamberlain.
“You told me your name in an alternate future of this conversation. I merely anticipated your introduction,” he said.
The chamberlain was stunned.
“Do you possess the gift of prophecy?” he asked.
“In the alternate future, you struck my neck with your sword and decapitated me, then buried your sword in my chest as I fell to the floor and said to me: ‘Tell your friends that I, Veles, will not allow them to profane our land,’” the monk said with a malicious look.
The chamberlain began to growl furiously. Desperate, he drew another sword from his back and attacked the monk again with another slash to the nape. The attack decapitated him, filling the room with blood.
“If you have the gift of prophecy, why did you not avoid my attack? Or was it too fast?” the man said.
Then the monk lifted his head, set it back in place, and smiled. The wounds caused by the attack healed at once.
“In truth, the first time I did it to show off, but attacks as weak as yours have no effect on me,” the young man replied.
The chamberlain leapt backward and dropped the sword.
“I see. The gift of prophecy and that ridiculous name. I expected you to hide your identity better in the human world,” he said.
The monk then closed his eyes and smiled with a very gentle expression as a luminous halo appeared above his head. The room was filled with radiant light and began to grow warm.
“The eldest son of Zeus, the god of prophecy and the celestial archer… Phoebus Apollo,” the chamberlain finally said.