Maxim Darko: The Greatest Gift of Evil. A Vampire Chronicle

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE CIRIL'S NEW LIFE

After being escorted out of the Hagia Sophia by Mustafa, Ciril stopped to piss on a stone wall in a back alley. He rested his forehead on the cool stone. Images of Tahira filled his befuddled brain. Since his return to Constantinople, he had not had the opportunity to check in on her. His servants had informed him that she had given birth to a baby boy while he had been away in Corfu. He made a drunken decision to check in on his baby.

Wham! Ciril kicked in the outer door to Tahira's shared room and burst in unannounced. The terrified screams of three women shattered the night's silence. When Tahira saw her drunk ex-husband standing in the doorway, she screamed, "Get out you animal!" She protectively clutched her baby to her breast.

Ciril ignored her and staggered to her bed. "Give him to me Christian bitch!" he demanded.

In fear for their lives, Tahira's two roommates fled the room. Tahira ignored her roommate's cowardice, and shouted, "No. He's not yours! Timothy will never call you Father!"

Ciril stopped in his tracks. It took his alcohol-soaked brain a moment to register what Tahira had just said. Then a dark rage filled his face. "Timothy! No! That is not his name. Timothy is a filthy Christian name." Ciril reached down and ripped the baby from Tahira's grasp.

"No! Don't you dare hurt him!" Tahira was at a loss. She was fearful of what Ciril would do to her baby.

Ciril ignored his ex-wife. He raised his arms and held the baby at arm's length. In the dim light, he closely studied the baby's features. Slowly, he brought the screaming baby to his hairy chest. "He is mine Christian bitch. His name is now Ahad. The chosen one." With a finality, Ciril stormed to the door with Ahad clutched to his chest.

Consumed with extreme sorrow, and grief, leapt after Ciril. Ciril caught her movement in his peripheral vision. With a well-placed kick, he knocked her to the ground. Tahira lay on the hard floor, clutching her broken ribs; she sobbed in anguish at her loss. Ciril stormed out of the door. When all was quiet, Tahira's roommates returned, and did their best to console her. Tahira was inconsolable. There was a hole in heart that would never be filled.

In the future, Tahira, could only watch her son grow from a distance. She never truly knew, who had fathered the child.

Out of spite, Ciril took a second Muslim wife. Ahad was only to be raised by Ciril's Muslim wives. Ahad slowly became Ciril's pride and joy, and was always found at his side, longing to be just like his Father. Ciril comfortably settled into his role as the leader of Mustafa's warriors.

A few years later, Mustafa walked onto Ciril's scorching hot practice field, ready for battle. His oiled skin shone brightly in the late morning sun. Clothed in only a loin cloth, he appeared almost God like. Dust burst from the dry field with each step he took.

Ciril, who had been instructing a group of young warriors in the ways of the spear, was surprised to see Mustafa. Ciril lowered his spear and dismissed his young trainees. "Drink some water. Come back when our Lord is finished with his business."

The trainees snapped to attention and pounded their spears on their sweat covered chests. "Yes Agha!" they shouted in unison. Their thunderous voices echoed from the stone stands. Ciril's three-year-old son Ahad, who had been practicing with a wooden sword near the edge of the field, stopped his practice to see what had caused the commotion. He became excited, when he saw the man he called Uncle approach his Father. He loved his Uncle, who always kept sweets hidden in his pockets for him and let him ride on his back like a horse. Ahad was about to call out a welcome to his Uncle but was interrupted.

"You!" Mustafa yelled at one of the departing warriors.

The nervous warrior rushed to Mustafa, put his fist over his heart, and bowed deeply. "Yes. Lord?" He asked with all the courage he could muster.