Bademus lived in Persia in the 300s, and was really really really good. So good that, Butler writes, “the sweet odour of his sanctity diffused a love of virtue in the hearts of those who approached him.” Now that is good. And of course this meant that he ended up alienating those whose lives were enmeshed in “unquiet scenes of vice and vanity”–and who, of course, did not wish for Bademus’s aromatic sanctity to spray its love of virtue into their hearts. So into a dungeon he went, accused of Christian tendencies.

Meanwhile, at the court of Persian King Sapor there was a man named Nersan, who was a Christian until he heard about what happened to Bademus. Nersan quickly became a sun worshipper (Butler’s way of describing the prevailing religious practices in the Persian Empire–likely having little to do with tanning). King Sapor and his advisors thought however that Nersan’s religious preferences were motivated by a desire to save himself misery rather than any sincere recognition that the Persian way was the right way. Suspicious timing and all, you see.

So these courtiers came upon a scheme: Let’s test Nersan by putting him in a room with Bademus, giving Nersan a sword, and telling him to slay that foul-and-fair-weather Christian. If Nersan would kill Bademus, then this would prove his commitment to the Persian religion; should he fail, Nersan would merit imprisonment alongside Bademus.

Nersan gets in the room-cum-arena, and finds that, try as he might, he cannot bring himself to kill Bademus. At least not at first. He gets nervous. He swings and misses. He pokes, he draws a little blood, he drops his sword. He feels nauseous at the prospect of killing a kind and innocent man, but he knows that a failure to kill Bademus means misery and death for himself.

Meanwhile, Bademus is standing there rather stoically, bleeding some and getting annoyed with Nersan’s fecklessness. He tells him something to the effect of “Look, I’m quite happy regarding my soul and dying a martyr for Christ. What I’m finding annoying is how little guts you have to make and stick to a course of action. Frankly, I feel terrible for you and would prefer–for several reasons–that I had a different (more efficient? more faithful? less lukewarm?) executioner.”

Also, of course there was a raucous audience for this event, and, as time wore on, the crowd began admiring Bademus’s ability to stand there, bleed, and talk calmly, while they increasingly despised Nersan’s “base cowardice.” Finally, Nersan couldn’t take it any longer and just began flailing his sword more or less in the direction of Bademus’s neck–after four chops, he finally succeeded in beheading the go-straight-to-heaven saint.

Bademus knew who and what he was, and was content to live and die that way. There is a lot to be said for that…a lot more than for spending one’s life trying to figure out the safe path, the path to please others, the path to avoid misery, the path that ultimately leads to ridicule-ousness and dis-ease.

As a post-script, Butler recounts that Nersan, though released from the threat of bondage through killing Bademus, had made himself so unpopular to the people that he fell into utter disgrace among them, and someone ended up killing him with a sword.