History, he had said. That is why Sabinus and Boris came to this place. History. Boris had used our Germanic cave above the Koniksbruk to tell us about Emperor Aurelian, his assassination bringing the quick demise of Mithraism and rapid advancement of Christianity. Which was the greater loss?

Aurelian. A brilliant military strategist and noble statesman. A ruler who did his best to inspire his citizens, to provide them security, to give them the tools necessary for their own personal prosperity and happiness. A man who concentrated the treasury on maintaining the infrastructure, even built a new wall around Rome outside the ancient Servian Wall. A man who led by example, who only used the sword against those who insisted upon making Rome their enemy. A man who surrounded himself with the smartest he could find, who ignored the negative obstructions of those who refused to participate in his vision, his hopes for a greater society both inside and outside his borders of empire.

Which was the greater loss? Aurelian. A living, breathing, human being. Or Mithras. A concocted go-between to an imagined god. A character in a play written by man. A character, like Hercules, like Mercury, like Artemis, like...

"Jesus Christ, Boris," I swam to him. "These gods, all of them are inventions of man. They are props for dramatic stories. Plays of no more value than the tragedies of Euripides or comedies of Plautus. Great literary works, and just as important as the tales of gods. No better, no worse."

"Characters, Gregoric. You've hit the spike on the head." For my victory of critical thinking, I got a kiss and a hug. And then Boris wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pointed to the sky. Twilight. Stars faintly contrasting against dark blue, three-quarter moon making its appearance just above the wall of granite. "Make no mistake, Gregoric. Something created everything you see around us. Those lights in the sky. The walls of this gorge. This beautiful pool of water. You. And me. It is only natural man would design the creator to look like man, to have human qualities good and bad. But would something great enough to make all of this have flaws? Same as man?"

"Not likely."

"Of course not. There is no way to know what created the creator. You will go mad trying to answer it. All we can know is that there is an incredible power making the sun appear every day and moon every night. I like to think of it as a great fire. That's what Eusebius said. Sparks fly in all directions. And we are those sparks, Gregoric. You and I and every person living. The afterlife is nothing but theories. Plays written by man, like you say. There is nothing wrong with hedging your bets and learning about all faiths, but do it for the sake of history. No man knows for sure what happens when you die. No man has been there and come back to tell of it. And those who try to preach to you about what the afterlife is are more often than not doing so for their own personal gain. Financial, self-esteem, any one of dozens of reasons, none of which benefit you."

Much to absorb, but Boris was a master of explanation and I was certain he could answer my next all-important question. "So, Boris, why did we go through all these rituals for Mithras? He is a theory just like all the others."

"Because I wanted to get you in your Germanic cave and fuck you."

More will come from time to time.