Death at Pergamum

by Albert Noyer

  Getorius walked to where she stood. "I imagine the East has developed Eucharistic rites somewhat different from ours."

  "Perhaps we can attend a Lord's Day service tomorrow. That mosaic of a woman in the apse must represent Sophia, Holy Wisdom, whispering to Christ and his mother."

  He marveled, "And with more gold tile work than in all of Ravenna!"

  After Arcadia stood and prayed to Cosmas, the physician-martyr she had claimed as her patron in an ice room at Ravenna, the couple inspected an altar trimmed in gold and precious stones, with the name PVLCHERIA in its Latin dedicatory inscription. They walked past sculpted sarcophagi of bishops and important citizens, ranged along the walls of both aisles, before going back out into the early sunlight. Strolling back toward the mansio, a not unpleasant smell of decaying vegetation reminded them that it was autumn here as well as in Ravenna.

  At the Nova Roma, an open carriage pulled by a pair of white mules harnessed in purple and red leather tack waited near the garden entrance. An elderly driver stroked the muzzle of one animal while talking to the guard who had brought last evening's message to the widows. The Goth saw the couple, beckoned to them, and alerted a young woman waiting in the carriage.

  After Getorius and Arcadia came to her, she introduced herself. "I am Sophia. Her Serenity sent me to escort you to her villa."

  Getorius noted that the Greek-named Sophia spoke flawless Latin. "Her Serenity is Aelia Pulcheria?"

  Sophia stifled a laugh with a hand. "Yes, Surgeon, but, between us, I suppose we could dispense with formal titles."

  The young woman looked to be in her twenties, with clear olive skin, dark eyes, and onyx-black hair. A white shawl thrown around the shoulders of her dark-blue tunic did not completely conceal a green ribbon, much like Herakles's blue one.

  "I'll change tunics quickly," Arcadia said. "Should I bring anything else?"

  Sophia jested, "Only the other two ladies."

  "Maria and Melodia said they would wait in their room. I'll send them out, then see if our slave, if Brisios has brought back my tunic."

  Getorius told Sophia, "Our guide is taking me to a library. Will my wife be back before evening?"

  "Surgeon, much before sunset."

  "Fine. I'm anxious to visit your libraries."

  Once the two widows had been introduced and seated in the carriage opposite Arcadia and Sophia, the driver directed the mules to the Mèsé. Vidimir, the Gothic guard rode alongside on horseback. At a four-sided arch surmounted by both marble and gilt bronze statuary, the carriage turned to the left along the broad avenue.

  "Sophia, I saw this arch yesterday," Arcadia said. "What does it commemorate?"

  "It's the tetrapylon of Constantine. The God-loving Augustus erected it at the entrance to his forum in what he called 'New Rome.' Sophia hesitated before adding, "The statues aren't matched because they were requisitioned from elsewhere."

  Meaning 'stolen' from elsewhere. Crowded housing blocks extended north and south. Seeing the stone arches of an aqueduct gently angling down toward the Milarion column, Arcadia asked Sophia what supplied the city's water.

  "Springs in Thrace, stored mainly in an immense underground cistern near the basilica. We also have open reservoirs throughout the city."

  Maria and Melodia sat quietly, staring at the sights of a city more splendid that the decaying Rome they remembered. Maria finally commented, "Constantinople is so...so new looking, so crowded. How many people live here?"

  "Several hundreds of thousands." Sophia paused to point ahead, "We approach the forum of the first Theodosius."

  "The father of Galla Placidia, our Empress Mother," Melodia remarked.

  A vast open square was dominated by a column with an inner staircase that led up to a platform with a statue of the emperor, now dead forty-five years. A few early visitors peered over the railing. Off to the sides public gardens were still green, their shrubbery muffling the splashing sound of more inner fountains.

  "Sophia, tell us about Pulcheria," Maria asked. "Neither Melodia nor I had heard of her before Presbyter Tranquillus told us who Her Serenity was."

  "You found out, then, that the Augusta is the sister of Theodosius, our Basileus?"

  "Yes, our guide mentioned that when we opened her invitation."

  Sophia explained. "Her Serenity, Pulcheria, took a vow of virginity at age fourteen. She acted as advisor to her brother, who was seven when their father died."

  "That was Arcadius."

  "Yes. The Augusta is pious, quite independent, and attracts like-minded women around her. As the youngest of them, I feel fortunate to have been accepted into her circle."

  Arcadia asked, "What do they, or you, do?"

  Sophia indicated the Mèsé's covered walkways with a graceful hand gesture. "Do you see many beggars on the streets?"

  "Come to think of it, none."

  "Pulcheria and her women spend their funds on works of charity. Indigent shelters...hospitals for the poor."

  Arcadia recalled that the guard had said the injured oldster would be cared for in a hospital.

  "Will Pulcheria accept a gift?" Melodia asked. "Maria and I brought silver flasks of water from the Lake of Galilee and Jordan River."

  Sophia smiled. "The Augusta is pleased to receive anything from the Holy Land."

  Arcadia had noticed the woman's green ribbon become more visible as she eased back her palla in the growing heat. "Sophia, I'm curious about your ribbon. Our guide wears a blue one."

  Sophia looked away. "The Greens are the palace faction. Your guide belongs to a deme, a so-called citizen's party that is quick to oppose any government decree its members dislike." She did not elaborate, nor did Arcadia pursue the political divisions. After the carriage entered another large square, she asked about a building on the right.

  "The old Temple of Jupiter Capitolinus," Sophia said. "The Basileus converted the temple into a school of higher education, a Didaskalion. I study philosophy there."

  "Philosophy?" Arcadia asked in amazement. "You, a woman?"

  "Surprised?" Sophia laughed softly. "Empress Eudokia has a philosopher father and have you not heard of Hypatia of Alexandria?"

  "I haven't."

  "No matter, you shall." Sophia noticed the driver turn the carriage onto an avenue to the right. "We're at the Hadrianopolis Gate Road."

  A colonnaded street almost as wide as the Mèsé led in a northwesterly direction. The roadway passed a high hill with a cruciform church at its summit, which Sophia said the God-loved Constantine had dedicated to the Twelve Holy Apostles. A round building at its eastern end was the Christian emperor's mausoleum. A short distance beyond the church the street ended at a point where the aqueduct crossed over the deteriorating remains of a high brick wall. A road that fronted ancient houses built against the wall followed the crumbling barrier. The poorly maintained dwellings reminded Arcadia of decaying tenements in Ravenna's port quarter.

  At a gate that led through the wall in the shadow of the aqueduct, a group of shabbily dressed people crowded around a counter and an empty cart. The foremost men in the crowd, angry, shouted in Greek at an official standing in the cart. Others waved their clenched fists in rhythm to their chant, "Artos. Artos. Artos."

  Arcadia asked, "Artos, bread? Sophia, what is happening?"

  "That old wall of Constantine is one location where people come for their bread and grain rations. Evidently, the cart is empty."

  "It's still early. Did the baker run out of bread?"

  "Autumn storms sometimes delay the arrival of grain." Sophia spoke rapidly to the driver in Greek. As the man whipped his mules around the edge of the crowd, a few people recognized the imperial carriage. They sprinted toward it, shouting threats, but halted when the mounted Goth unsheathed his sword and blocked their way.

  Constantinople has its darker side. The city isn't all golden mosaics and glittering statuary. Arcadia glanced at the two widows. Both had pulled shawls over their lower faces, peering out with frightened e
yes. They're probably remembering street riots from the Visigoth attack, where their husbands were killed.

  The mob's shouts faded into the distance. The Hadrianopolis Road paralleled the aqueduct for a way, then passed under an arch of its channel, where a gurgle of water was faintly audible overhead. Buildings were less close together now, with newer dwellings spaced apart between vacant fields and stands of pine. On the left, a valley sloped down to embrace a winding river. Beyond the river, to the southwest, water sparkled in one of the reservoirs that Sophia had mentioned.

  Soon after the carriage turned onto the Via Pulcheriana, the long walls of a palatial villa appeared. Sophia said it was their destination, one of Pulcheria's several palaces located inside and around the city. At the gate, Vidimir dismounted and escorted the women through a marble corridor, into a reception room that faced a lush, inner garden. Three well-dressed women sat around a bubbling fountain.

  "Augusta," the Goth announced in Latin to a middle-aged woman, who yet was the youngest of the trio. "Sophia and your visitors."

  "Thank you Vidimir, We dismiss you. Sophia, you may go now with Our gratitude." After the guard and woman student bowed and backed out of the garden, Pulcheria smiled at her new guests. "We are happy that you could come. Which of you is Domina Aemiliana?"

  Maria bowed her head in homage. "Augusta, I am."

  Pulcheria said to the other widow, "Then you are Melodia Vibulana. Welcome. We shall dispense with formality now that Vidimir and Sophia have left. I'm pleased you also came, Arcadia."

  "I'm grateful for the invitation, Augusta."

  Pulcheria asked her, "I know the purpose of the widows in coming here, but why are you in Constantinople?"

  "My husband, Getorius, wanted to research medical texts we would not have available in the West. Since I'm training with him as a medica, I also am interested."

  "A medica." Pulcheria smiled approval and glanced at her companions. "I'm impressed."

  "Yes, my dream is to set up a woman's clinic at Ravenna."

  "Indeed? And so you shall one day."

  Arcadia guessed Aelia Pulcheria to be about forty years old. Dressed in a simple tunic and head shawl similar to Sophia's, the Augusta had not put on cosmetics, yet was as beautiful as her Latin name signified.

  Pulcheria introduced Droseria, a sickly looking matron suppressing a harsh cough. Ointment glistened on a face ulcer and she gently rubbed her left knee as if it pained her. Across from Droseria, an elderly woman wore a black tunic and a veil covering her head. A presbyter's stole embroidered with two crosses covered her thin shoulders. She nervously fussed with a large silver cross dangling around her neck.

  "Ladies," Pulcheria said to her guests, "may I introduce Episcopa Flaviana Ignatia."

  "Episcopa?" Arcadia repeated in surprise. "I'm confused. Bishop Ignatia, do you mean?"

  The older woman laughed. "Incredulity. That's the usual reaction I get, but yes, I've been ordained a bishop."

  Pulcheria continued, "I'll begin the bishop's story. Flaviana Ignatia is from Antioch, where her father was an archdeacon. She was ordained a deaconess, but that wasn't enough for her."

  "No it wasn't," Ignatia broke in. "Apologies for interrupting, Augusta, but I'm ninety years old and getting a bit impatient."

  Pulcheria laughed softly. "May I then be as alert as you. Episcopa, continue."

  "Antioch reckoned its first bishop to be the Apostle Peter, Cephas, yet let me relate what the Augusta began to say. Father did well as archdeacon, collecting alms in the community for the Metropolitan's many projects. I'd always helped out around the basilica, first as porter, then lector." Ignatia paused to chuckle at the recollection. "Why, I even read a lesson when I was twelve. That was the year the apostate emperor, Julian, arrested Christian teachers and closed schools and churches. The bishop and his presbyters were in panic, so Father hid them on an estate our family owned. After Julian was killed in Persia, things returned to normal. I'm sure the Metropolitan ordained me a deaconess out of gratitude, and to help my father.

  "But," Pulcheria added, "even that honor wasn't enough for you."

  "No. I was an office below presbyter and so pestered Father for ordination that he in turn convinced Bishop Flavian, who was newly installed. I took his name and that of Ignatius, the Antiochene martyr." Ignatia paused to remember long ago events that watered her pale blue eyes. "Actually, I think the bishop only agreed because he felt that a woman presbytera could counter the resurgence of a troublesome cult of Artemis at Perge. He sent me there to substitute a devotion to the Virgin Mother for that of the pagan goddess."

  "And you did that in five years." When Droseria coughed up phlegm and spit into a linen cloth, Arcadia noticed her sputum tinged with blood.

  "True, Droseria," Ignatia continued with a chuckle, "but afterwards the bishop didn't know what to do with me. Although women had been ordained early on, there now was quite vicious male opposition."

  Droseria remarked, "No thanks to the writings of Tertullian."

  Astounded at the revelations, Arcadia asked, "Episcopa, what happened next?"

  "Flavian made me chorepiskopa, an auxiliary bishop under his jurisdiction, then sent me to Trapezus on the Euxine Sea."

  "I've not heard of the city."

  "Nor have many, Arcadia. Emperor Hadrian and Constantine's nephew improved the facilities. There already was a Christian cult of a Golden-headed Virgin there, but many people had reverted to an earlier Mithra worship. Flavian thought that seating a bishop there might help citizens break away from this resurgent Hellenism."

  Pulcheria added "And you also did so well that the Metropolitan sent you to Pessinus."

  "Pessinus? That's city I've heard about," Arcadia recalled. "It was the center of a Cybelene cult."

  "Indeed," Ignatia frowned. "Flavian wanted me to turn the worship of the Great Mother into veneration for Maria Theotokos, the Bearer of God." Ignatia glanced down to smooth her tunic. "I wasn't as successful at doing that."

  Arcadia recalled the eunuch archpriest, Diotar, and her spring journey to the Cybelene temple at Olcinium, but Ignatia's story was too fascinating to interrupt. "Bishop, you must have ordained presbyters yourself."

  "Presbyters? Of course, Arcadia. Most were men, but I did persuade a few women to accept ordination and assigned them to remote regions. You must understand that parts of Anatolia are quite wild, even dangerous, at isolated mountain villages. Brigands, of course, and one never knew when the Persians might invade again, for they already had warred in Armenia. There were Nestorian Christian communities, heretics..." Ignatia's wrinkled face creased into an almost toothless grin and her blue eyes sparkled at the recollection. "I was sure Flavian had exiled me there forever."

  "Ignatia, that may have been Providential," Pulcheria said. "Flavian died fifty years ago and his successors did not pay much attention to what you did, as long as there was no trouble. Then John became Metropolitan of Antioch and forced you out."

  Maria said, "Bishop Ignatia, you mentioned a man named Tertullian. Who was he?"

  "A Christian convert, who fancied himself a brilliant theologian. He felt that male clergy were threatened when Christians moved into public assemblies from oikon ekklesia, worship inside homes. It had to do with women's traditional role of managing households, thus Tertullian's condemnation of us was quite bitter." Ignatia's voice trailed off before her frown dissolved in a smile. "Enough, we didn't invite our western sisters here to hear my life story. We have business at hand, Aelia Pulcheria Augusta."

  "Yes. Droseria wants to join with Maria and Melodia in endowing a church near the Pergemene Asklepion that will counteract the influence of those pagan temple priests. We are here to finalize details."

  "Then, Augusta, let us begin with a prayer said by my martyred namesake, Ignatius of Antioch." When the old bishop pulled her veil lower over her forehead, the others followed with their shawls. Ignatia stood and raised gnarled hands that trembled slightly. "'Let all our actions be taken with the solita
ry thought that God lives with us'."

  "Amen," the women responded in unison.

  "Bishop," Arcadia interposed before anything more could be said, "I'm sorry but I'm still confused. There was a presbytera at Ravenna, but in an Arian community. I thought they had appointed her out of desperation, for lack of a man. Now you're saying that ordained women are celebrating the Eucharist in parts of Anatolia. Ministering?"

  "Admittedly in remote areas," Ignatia replied.

  "Didn't Paul advise women to be quiet in church, much less become ministers?"

  Ignatia indicated a codex on a nearby table. "Augusta, if that's a Testament, may I see it?"

  "Of course." Pulcheria brought over the richly decorated, leather-bound codex. Ignatia opened the book and thumbed through its pages. "Arcadia, you're referring to the Apostle's first letter to the Assembly at Corinth. What I'll read was written several years later, after Paul had matured in his grasp of the implications of Christ's message. Here. These verses were written to Galatians in Anatolia. 'You are all in fact sons of God and daughters by implication, through faith in Jesus Christ. For all who were baptized into Christ have put on Christ. There is neither Jew nor Greek, neither slave nor free, neither male nor female, for we are all in union with Christ'."

  "I know the passage," Arcadia said. "Doesn't Paul mean that we're all spiritual equals?"

  Ignatia peered at her with a sudden hardness in her watery eyes. "Domina, I, for one, take him more literally than that."

  Pulcheria broke in, "Bishop Ignatia raises church funds to pay for slaves' manumission. In so far as practical, I have freed all of mine." She took the heavy book from Ignatia, but kept it on her lap. "Now, about the Asklepion church. I pledge one-fourth of its cost, with Droseria, Maria and Melodia offering the balance. My architect estimates building expenses at forty thousand numismata, a coin equivalent to that gold solidus Arcadia is wearing."

  After the three women murmured agreement, Arcadia asked, "Is a church there now?"