by Albert Noyer
“Horrible! If the bishop knew that, or Abinnaeus for that matter, they certainly would have closed the temple by now.” Arcadia finished the Artemisia. “So much has happened. A report of unrest at Constantinople, the disturbing papyrus, and now that poor girl murdered―”
“Pennuta was hardly poor. You saw her apartment.”
“I didn’t mean it that way.”
“I know, Arcadia. I…I believe the governor and don’t think that Pennuta came to the pretorium that night.”
“Yet Dorothea is convinced that Pennuta killed her kitten out of spite, even if her husband actually was breaking off their affair.”
“How would Pennuta get to the animal?” Arcadia winced and shifted position. Getorius noticed her discomfort and helped readjust pillows behind his wife’s back. “The governor did say that Miu had disappeared. Could Pennuta somehow have taken it from the building?”
“How many know about that secret passageway in the governor’s office? Dorothea certainly didn’t find it, but I don’t imagine she’s too interested in her husband’s business dealings.”
“Except for obtaining that unusual perfume…” Arcadia reached over to gently touch the base of her husband’s skull. “How does your injury feel now? Hippocrates advises not using a poultice or bandaging head wounds, where skin isn’t broken. Fortunately, yours is not.”
He reached back to squeeze her hand. “It’s fine. Arcadia, I’ve thought about that priest’s staff. Why would he leave it there and implicate himself?”
“Anger can make people careless. I’m just grateful that Nepheros arrived when he did.”
“How soon did he have the guards bring me here?”
“Within an hour, otherwise you would have lain there all night. You may think it a coincidence that the secretary found you, but I believe my prayers to Cosmas and God’s Providence protected you.”
Getorius bent to brush Arcadia’s hair back and kiss her brow. “Can you sleep now? I’ll stay with you and try to plan what we’ll do next.”
“What do you mean?”
“Look here…” He removed his belt purse, emptied coins on the table, and picked out two solidi. “Aelia Pulcheria’s image.”
“Getorius, gold is valid Eastern currency in Egypt”
“Yes, but coin inscriptions often have been political statements made by reigning emperors. If we show these, we ally ourselves with Pulcheria. I have no idea if she’s alive or for that matter, even if Theodosius is still Emperor. Political assassinations aren’t restricted to our western empire.”
Arcadia shifted position on a sheet damp with perspiration. “I had almost forgotten. The Augusta sent us here to verify locations where the Holy Family might have stayed to escape Herod.”
“That was discussed at the dinner when we arrived.”
“I remember the bishop and abbot were insulted that the Patriarch at Constantinople would question their ancient traditions. And there’s a possible diary of Saint Joseph. Getorius, if such a document exists, where might it be?”
“I would think it would be kept in an Egyptian monastery, but we could ask Abbot Isidoros.” He scooped the coins into his purse and took all but one pillow from behind his wife. “Cara, try to sleep now. You’ll have a few days before the fever recurs.”
* * *
Shandi returned to the inn, only to find that the post station’s coach had already departed for Clysma, a port at the head of the Arabian Gulf where he would have boarded a transport galley bound for Myos Hormos. The manager told him that Papnouthios’s assistant, Skoros, waited for him in the eating room. Good, the physician’s assistant was there to give him his money as promised.
A few patrons were finishing breakfast when Shandi saw Skoros at a far table. He had met the physician’s assistant once, when he had gone with Pap’nutho to the hospital. As soon as he could, he had left what he thought was a House of Death, but the physician paid well for plants that did not grow in Egypt and were brought to him from India.
Skoros greeted Shandi in a Latin that was worse than his.“You come, Kushite man,”
Shandi took a chair opposite him. “Five gold coins. You bring?”
“Physician want you come to hospital.”
“Money for sakol is there?” Shandi hesitated, wondering why Pap’nutho wanted him at the hospit. “I…I not like that house of death.”
Skoros shrugged his indifference. “Papnouthios have gold at hospital for you. My cart wait outside.”
Shandi’s frustration simmered anew. Unexpected questioning about his sister’s murder had caused him to miss the post coach, so he would have to wait until tomorrow to leave. Pap’nutho had not sent his payment for the new poison to the PELVSIOS as he promised, and now wanted him to go outside the city for the money. The Latin surgeon spoke about an investigation into Pennuta’s death. If the governor agrees, I will be called to tell where I was when my sister was killed. Perhaps it is better that I hide out in the hospit until I can leave in a day.
The Kushite waved away a serving girl and told Skoros, “Take me to Pap’nutho for my gold.”
CHAPTER XII
A small abandoned chapel at the far end of the monastery of Pachomios was a location that Papnouthios preferred for experiments. They usually ended in the death of his wretched subjects, yet the superstitious physician had not dared use the sanctuary. He also left two sacred icons in place on either side of the altar. One image depicted the Flight into Egypt: an aged, white-bearded Joseph walked alongside a donkey carrying a young, dark-haired Mary, who held the Christ Child with his hand upraised in blessing. A second icon portrayed the anchorite monk, Anthony, dedicating the communal monastery, while Pachomios looked on. A faint scent of incense clung to the images and the chapel’s whitewashed walls, yet the overall smell of the room was unpleasant―the bowels of unfortunate victims usually evacuated upon his or her death.
Skoros removed bodies for secret nighttime disposal in the Sobek temple crocodile pen.
Wearing a bloodstained apron over a woolen tunic, Papnouthios reflected fatigue in his stooped posture and heavy-lidded eyes. The physician’s down-turned mouth was grim after spending the night experimenting with the paralyzing results that varying doses of salok made on three beggars that Skoros had brought in with promises of food and shelter.
When Shandi entered, all three vagrants had died. Their partly dissected bodies lay on marble tables, but the Kushite avoided going closer to examine the mutilations.
The physician glanced up from a papyrus roll where he recorded results. “In the myth, Medea tried to rejuvenate Aeson, her husband’s dying father, with incantations and herbs, but Ovid’s account lacks specifics. He writes that she ‘laid his corpse on a bed of herbs,’ yet gives none of the plants’ names.”
“I not understand, Pap’nutho.”
“No, you wouldn’t. This has to do with reanimation…resuscitation…and not importing merchandise. A later writer speaks of a Thessalian striga…a witch…Erichtho by name. She sought out a yet-warm battlefield corpse and pumped an herb potion into it, yet with what kind of pumping device? Two Egyptians also practiced reanimation. What herbs did―”
“Pap’nutho!”
“What herbs did they use?” he finished as if not interrupted. “Of course, I know of many magical plants…animal elixirs, too…gecko blood, bull semen, wormwood, white hellebore, spurge―”
“Pap’nutho, my sister dead.”
“Dead?” The physician laid down the scroll as shock and uncertainty replaced fatigue in his face. “How? What…what happened?”
“Abinn’us kill her in secret love room.”
“The prefect?” Papnouthios suppressed a laugh at an absurd charge. “Why would he do that? Pennuta is a concubine, thus even if he had tired of her, such women are easily bought off.”
“She carry baby of Abinn’us.”
“Pennuta was pregnant with the prefect’s child? That is more believable, but how would you know?”
Shandi
replied, “She tell me. I see her last night.”
“And your sister was dead in the morning? Who discovered her with you in that room?”
“Abinn’us, Nephro, Dora. The two Latins. We find cape of Abinn’us with her.”
“The prefect’s cape? That is incriminating. Did Dorothea accuse Pennuta of strangling her kitten?”
“Kitten? Shandi know nothing of that.”
“I’m sure there’s another explanation…”As Papnouthios rolled up the papyrus, he asked in a more casual tone, “What news of your exiled heretic?”
“Bishop Harmono now at Hebet to bring Nest’rus back to Myos.”
The news surprised him. “Helping him escape the monastery? Impossible, and yet…yet supposing Nestorios succeeds. What will he do?”
“Many follower, Pap’nutho. All Egypt be part of Nest’rus kingdom.”
“A Nestorian Egypt?” The physician snickered at the thought, but reconsidered as he removed his apron. “True, thirty years ago a council of Eastern bishops met at Seleucia and rejected efforts by the Syrian Church to control them. They installed a Patriarch of the Persian rite and Nestorios did have his greatest success at Edessa.”
Shandi asked, “You know of Kashat papyrus, Pap’nutho? Bishop Harmono say it make Nest’rus important man, even Patr’arch again.”
The physician squinted at him in suspicion.“How do you know of this document?”
His expression remained impassive. “Shandi know.”
“You say there is an extensive Nestorian colony at Myos Hormos?”
“Nai…yes. Port worker with many other people.”
“What of Alexandria?”
“I think yes.”
Papnouthios turned away to inspect a failed attempt to keep one of the vagrants alive―he had opened the man’s chest to observe his beating heart. It was a moment to ponder what would happen if Nestorios actually gained control of the Egyptian Church. Certainly the heretic’s view of Christ having a separate divine nature would appeal to local Christians surrounded by pagan divinities. Bishop Eusebios will act soon to close the Sobek temple, and my hospital. He reports increasing complaints that the Patriarch in Constantinople attempts to usurp Cyril’s authority as Patriarch here. A break with the capital would benefit Nestorios. If he succeeds, Eusebios would choose voluntary exile and I could continue my vivisection experiments.
Papnouthios rubbed smooth cheeks that had never felt a razor as he realized possible far-reaching implications of Nestorius’s bold gamble. With government officials now distracted by internal dissentions, those Nestorian dock workers might close Hormos to shipping. Enough sympathizers rioting at Alexandria could depose Cyril, and Nestorios would be ready to replace him. Abinnaeus and his garrison are loyal to Theodosius, yet being suspected of murdering his concubine could lead to the prefect’s arrest. That would favor the heretic’s plan. He turned back to the Kushite youth.
“Shandi, speak to that gossiping secretary, Nepheros, today. See if you can find out more about your sister’s death.” He held up the jug of salok. “Is there a way of reversing the effects of this poison?”
“Nai. But must give quick, before person die.”
“Interesting. With the proper interval someone could look dead and yet appear to have been reanimated. Do you have this magic restoring elixir?”
“Shandi have.”
“How much?”
“Five gold piece more.”
Despite fresh anger at another exorbitant price, Papnouthios controlled himself. “Skoros will bring you the ten gold solidi at the inn before you leave in the morning. Now go talk to Nepheros and find out more about how your sister died.”
* * *
Late in the morning while Arcadia slept, Getorius decided to visit Bishop Eusebios and confide in the churchman by telling him of Pulcheria’s message concerning a rumored diary of St. Joseph.
Eusebios had finished an early Divine Liturgy in the adjacent Basilica of St. Mark, where he again had preached for the closing of the Temple of Sobek and Isis. Now he sat in his library, writing a demand for such an action on the part of Governor Sergius Abinnaeus.
The bishop looked up when Paulos brought in Getorius. “Surgeon”―Eusebios stood to greet him―“I pray that your wife’s illness is not a reason for this visit.”
“No, Holiness, Arcadia feels better. She is in fact asleep.”
“Deo gratias. Then, what brought you here?”
Getorius wondered if he was doing the correct thing. “Holiness, may I take you into my confidence about a matter that Augusta Pulcheria wishes my wife and me to investigate while here?”
Eusebios reacted with sarcasm to a possible new interference from the capital. “Surgeon, were you sent to verify the route of the Holy Family’s sojourn, which our Egyptian church has venerated for over four centuries?”
“Holiness, this is unprecedented knowledge for us in the West. We only know Matthew’s brief account.”
“I agree that Antiochia, Alexandria, and even Rome are legitimate Patriarchates because of their apostolic foundations. Yet Constantinople, a fabricated city existing a little over a century, claims equality with us and acts with arrogant superiority. Now, even Juvenalis claims a Fifth Patriarchate for Jerusalem.”
“Yes, we…we met the bishop there.”
The bishop paused in his angry summation to run a hand over a balding scalp. “Surgeon, there may be justification for the Holy City as a Patriarchate, but only the fact that ‘The God-loving emperor,’ Constantine, founded a ‘New Rome’ for military and political purposes―”
Getorius interrupted, “With respect, Holiness, that is not what I came to discuss.”
“Perhaps not, Surgeon, yet the capital’s constant meddling disturbs me. Proceed.”
“I also would like the advice of Abbot Isidoros.” After Eusebios gestured impatient consent, Getorius explained, “The Augusta sent a message ahead for my wife and me. The governor was to give it to us, but he and Nepheros claim to have misplaced the document.”
The bishop smiled at his naiveté. “Surgeon, if such a message arrived, they both have read it.”
“Arcadia and I surmised as much. Holiness, that messenger from Constantinople who came the evening we dined here―”
“The murdered courier.”
“Bardas. He told us of a similar message that Pulcheria gave him for us. It was concealed in his saddle.”
Eusebios glanced toward his desk, impatient to finish his letter to the prefect. “How does this concern the Egyptian Church?”
“Holiness, a rumor persists that Saint Joseph wrote an account…a diary…of his years in Egypt.”
“A rumor that is decades old,” Eusebios snorted. “I doubt Blessed Joseph was literate enough in Greek, but, of course, a scribe in the caravan might have written what he dictated.”
“Caravan? Then depictions of the Holy Family traveling with a single donkey are in error?”
“Surgeon, the Holy Infant surely was not the only Hebrew child escaping Herod’s wrath. We have only that passage in Matthew to tell of this, yet Judea was far off, and dangers would be legion.” The bishop swept a hand across scrolls tucked into storage shelves against one wall. “If this purported diary exists at all, it is surely another Gnostic forgery. Consider the many spurious gospels we have, from that of Thomas to the Magdalene, and even Judas Iscariot.”
“I thought a monastery might be the safeguard for such a scroll.”
New anger narrowed the clergyman’s eyes. “And Constantinople wants it to enhance their prestige. Surgeon, if such a document were found it would be the property of the Egyptian Church…” Eusebios paused to nod acknowledgment to Paulos, signaling from the doorway. “I’ve invited the Prefect to share a midday meal, and I intend to demand that he close that satanic pagan temple. He has arrived, so do join us.”
A haggard, unshaven Sergius Abinnaeus paced the dining room in the wrinkled tunic that he had worn for two days. Deeper lines on his forehead and alo
ngside his mouth reflected anxiety about major consequences that could develop over Pennuta’s murder.
Abinnaeus bent to kiss the bishop’s ring when he entered. “Holiness, I can surmise why you called me here. You wish the Sobek temple closed.”
“Exactly. Prefect, are you now consulting astrologers?” The remark was in jest, yet neither man smiled. “Surgeon, please take a chair next to the prefect.”
It being the Lord’s Day, the bishop’s cook had prepared boiled ostrich―a portion of the desert bird’s breast meat had been given as an offering at the morning Eucharist. A sweet-sour sauce of Jericho dates, vinegar and herbs made the dry meat edible. It was served with dried peas boiled with chopped cuttlefish, leeks, coriander, and cumin.
Abinnaeus waited until the server left before confiding, “Bishop, I have only a small winter garrison here. My Magister Militum…Master of Soldiers…is at his villa outside Clysma.”
Eusebios understood. “You fear a riot, and yet the temple of Zeus Kassios was closed with only a few heads broken.”
“That god was a Ptolemaic imposition. Sobek and Isis are Egyptian deities. To avoid confrontation at the old port, I left that pagan enclave alone, but on condition that the temple priests caused no trouble or interfered with tax collecting.”
“Prefect,” Eusebios criticized, “your tax collectors enrich themselves. Who monitors the amount they actually bring in?”
“A small price that maintains tranquility.”
“Tranquility? Does anyone know what pagan abominations take place there?” He pointed at Getorius with his spoon. “This surgeon was assaulted just before the Kashat mummy was burned to destroy evidence that might have proven the papyrus false. That Sobek priest, Tanutamun, has disappeared. What threat to your precious ‘tranquility’ might he be fomenting among his followers?”
“I―”
Eusebios tapped the spoon on the table for quiet. “Our Egyptian Church has been far too lenient with these pagans!”