The Nephilim stood tall, and their descendants, the Anakim, did too. Towering above mere men, they were a harsh race, and cruel. One of their number was Reprobus, a creature of great strength and fierce determination. He served his king for a time, then his curiosity and pride proved too much to be limited so. He vowed that he would serve none but the greatest of kings, the mightiest of beings.

The king’s palace was filled with gold, each room sparkling with precious gems. Each night, in the greatest hall, there came forth many to aim to amuse the king with their skills. One night, a minstrel came forth, and he sang oft of the devil. When the king heard the name of the devil, he made the sign of the cross. Reprobus was curious, and demanded to know why he had made that sign.

“Always when I hear the devil named, I fear that he should have power over me,” he said, shaking his head.

Reprobus frowned and said to him: “Then is the devil more mighty and greater than thou art. I will go seek him for to be my lord, and I his servant.”

And he strode from that great hall, not bothering to turn his head and catch a final glimpse of that  palace.

The desert was thick with brutal sand and harsh winds, scuffling up great clouds of shivering glass fragments. On the top of the greatest sand dune, there stood a great company of knights, armour as black as pitch. “Whither doest thou travel?” The leader demanded.

“I go seek the devil for to be my master,” Reprobus demanded 

The knight threw back his head and laughed. “I am he,” he said, his voice like burning embers and lit coals. “I am he that thou seekest.”

The cross stood by the roadside, elegant and simple, bone-white wood and iron. The knight turned and fled, but Reprobus stayed and stared. “I shall anon depart from thee,” he cried. He demanded to know why the devil fled from such a simple 

The devil relented. “There was a man called Christ which was hanged on the cross,” he said, his mouth in a bitter set. “When I see his sign I am sore afraid.”

Reprobus saw the truth unfold before his eyes. This was not the mightiest being, but one subservient to something greater. Something glorious.

Reprobus waded across the river, each step weighing heavily. The silt under his feet shifted, the water grew and swelled. It tasted of brine, even this far from the sea. Reprobus’ spirit did not falter. He served the greatest king, the mightiest being, and he would not fail in his task. The child on his shoulders gripped hard, the push of the water rocking Reprobus. He would not fail.

Reprobus was no more. From the ashes, there rose Christopher, bearer of Christ, who would spend his life fighting for Christ, the strongest God, with no equal. He guided travellers across their perils, working in the path of the Lord.

Speech from de Voragine, 1914, pg 48-49