by Albert Noyer
When he threw the sheepskin covers aside to get up, Arcadia pulled him back. "Hold me. I hardly remember our brief lovemaking in the tub."
"I sorry I wasn't more, more virile. We both were exhausted."
"Just hold me a moment longer."
Getorius nestled back into the warm curves of her body, conscious of an acrid smoke odor inside the room. The smell came from destruction at the Asklepion.
Arcadia rubbed her face against his back, murmuring, "I love you, husband."
"And I you, cara."
"I'm sorry I hurt you. That decision of mine to help Droseria all alone was a poor one."
"Arcadia, you showed the concern that makes a good physician, but we can't take a patient's illness personally. We would be buried under an avalanche of pity."
"I wanted a patient of my own. I...I'll probably do that again."
He turned to face her and kiss her eyes. "You'll be a fine medica."
She nodded and glanced at the window. "We should get dressed and see what happened at the shrine."
Arcadia rinsed her mouth and chewed wilted mint leaves a room slave had left by the wash basin. "Our tunics probably are damp," she said, wetting a washcloth. "There are dry clothes in the wardrobe."
"You just reminded me." Getorius found his purse on a chair, rummaged inside, and took out the earrings he bought. "These are Basina Bobo's. I bought them on the Sacred Way, yet Aristides told me that belongings of those who died at the shrine were donated to the poor."
Arcadia looked at them, her face dripping water. "You mean Apollonios is selling them to vendors without telling his assistant?"
"Presumably. Basina's tunic was there and other items on sale weren't new. After seeing Apollonios help those renegade slaves, I don't know what to think,"
Arcadia held out the washcloth. "Use this to help you wake up."
Getorius rewet the linen. "I feel the same about Herakles. He's sympathetic to plebs, yet at the same time tries to evade taxes on opion and perhaps other contraband."
"Lydia said the nearest port for shipping the narcotic is Smyrna."
"That's between here and Ephesos. Herakles may take his clients as close to the port as he can, then abandon them."
Arcadia searched for a tunic in the wardrobe. "Our guide is brash, but I can't help liking him."
"Smugglers often are likeable to deceive authorities." After he dried his face, Getorius listened for outdoor sounds. "It's still quiet out there."
Arcadia said, "Be very careful, but why don't you go to the Asklepion. I'll see how the widows fared during the night."
* * *
A pall of the smoke that Getorius detected in the bedroom hung over the shrine and Sacred Way. Apollonios's burned villa lay in ruins, ransacked and smoldering. Statuary, furnishings, torn books and scrolls lay scattered on the field in front of his shattered entry gate. The surgeon walked around the ruins toward the Asklepion's entrance from the Sacred Way. Rioters had pulled down the iron gates. Beyond the courtyard, at the stairway leading to the shrine complex, uniformed guards carried bodies away from the area. It seems that Niketas's civic guard arrived after all, and with deadly results.
One of the guards noticed Getorius. He leveled his spear and spoke what sounded like an order in Greek.
"Ego sum medicus et amicus Apollonii," he said quickly, hoping the man understood enough Latin to know that he was a medical friend of the physician.
The guard hesitated, then waved him through. From the top courtyard stair, Getorius looked toward Hadrian's library. The open doorway was wreathed in black soot. Wisps of white smoke rose from the gutted interior and curled up past a few charred rafters that were still in place. They were all that remained of a roof that had burned through and collapsed onto the collection stacks.
"Priceless medical texts lost," Getorius lamented, then looked to his left. "The temple doesn't look too damaged. Perhaps Apollonios is in there."
Walking past guards aligning corpses on the ground, Getorius went up the stairs to the portico. The open bronze doors were undamaged, with the securing beam thrown to one side. I assumed they would have been battered in, but it seems someone opened the portals from inside and let in the rioters.
Asklepios's temple was littered with crutches and miniature body parts that had hung on the walls as votive offerings. The wooden figure of the demi-god lay on the floor, its limbs smashed and scattered on the marble paving. "Offerings" of human excrement were on the statue's pediment. CHRISTVS VINCIT was scrawled in charcoal on its base. The head of the god had been set directly in front of the words, to stare at the Christian boast of victory.
Getorius recalled the serpent's pit. Was the hidden door to the tunnel discovered? Walking toward it, he was perplexed by a thick, knotted rope hanging from the circular opening in the dome's center. When he reached the pit, a nauseating stench of burned reptilian flesh came from inside. Blackened remains of the sacred serpents were grotesquely intertwined with charred shards of pottery from broken oil lamps.
Horrified, Getorius realized what had happened. "The rioters threw lamps into the pit, burning the serpents alive. I couldn't wish that terrible death on any creature."
Greasy soot blackened the den's marble walls, but the concealed panel was intact. Sickened by the wanton destruction, Getorius went outside to search for the physician.
"Pos Apollonios?" he asked the first guard officer he saw. The man pointed to the small temple near the theater. Of course, that's where he said his daughters were hiding.
Halfway to the temple an unpleasant latrine stench came from the direction of the mud pool where Basina had been found dead. Getorius crossed over to it. Rioters had defecated into the greenish slime in an obscene desecration of a healing pool, where the gangrenous leg of Damianos was miraculously healed.
The Temple of Hygeia was undamaged, but the sacrificial altar had been overturned and its raised corners smashed off. Dead chickens lay on the ground near empty cages, but Niketas's guards had arrived in time to save the building from destruction. Apollonios stood despondent and stoop-shouldered amid the wreckage of this shrine to the goddesses of health and healing.
Also repelled at the destruction, Getorius tried to comfort him. "Tragic. Sir, I'm truly sorry this happened to you."
Apollonios glanced up. "Surgeon, I warned that a mob led by those monks would rival barbarians in destroying this shrine."
"Your daughters are safe?"
"Fortuna praised! I taught them to hide in a tunnel under the temple. Should escape be necessary, it leads to the rear of the theater."
"Your brother's men arrived late, yet they had plenty of time to be alerted."
Apollonios coughed sputum into a cloth, then gestured toward the north portico where Niketas stood with two monks. "Those abbots, also some bishops, encourage the holy fathers to demolish pagan temples. If my brother did not allow some destruction, he would be denounced at Constantinople."
"Your Eastern monks have such power?"
"Nine years ago, Nestorians at an ecumenical council in Ephesos were intimidated by monks and charged with heresy."
"Emperor Theodosius allows this?"
"Surrounded as he is by books, the Basileus is more scholar than soldier."
"What will you do now?"
Apollonios snorted, "What would you as a Christian do?"
"Rebuild, I suppose."
"Indeed, Surgeon. As long as the will of the gods, even of your One God, remains a mystery, the sick will come to shrines where they hope to be touched by the Untouchable."
"Sir," Getorius ventured, "I feel that you're abusing the opion as a treatment. I know that Herakles supplies you."
"Yes, but it is Aristides who deals with him in such matters."
"Your assistant? You yourself make no direct purchases from Herakles?"
"I am a priest and physician, not a tradesman. Aristides relieves me of such details."
"Details like donating the belongings of those who die here to th
e poor?"
"That is another of his responsibilities."
Or you're lying. Increasingly aware of the physician's accent, Getorius recalled that Herakles had said that Apollonios came from Thrace. Like King Rhesus. The characters in that drama could be falling into place. Euripedes may yet help solve these murders. "Sir, I should go back to the Poseidon. With your villa destroyed, you may want to stay there. You already know Zoë."
Apollonios shook his head. "For now I shall live underground with my daughters and those slaves."
"Then may Fortuna remain with you. I have an urgent task to complete."
Getorius hurried off, eager to re-read his scroll of King Rhesus for more clues to solving this mystery.
CHAPTER XXI
At the Poseidon, Arcadia sat finishing breakfast with Maria and Melodia. She left the table and came to her husband when he entered. "Getorius, we just received some news."
"Not another murder?"
"No, no. Good news. We have a new Pontiff at Rome. Nysus told me that a deacon named Leo was elected Bishop of Rome on September twenty-ninth. He's Tuscan and was able to reconcile differences between army commander Flavius Aetius and the chief magistrate of Gaul."
Getorius shrugged a prediction, "That's only the beginning of Leo's problems. Arcadia, come to our room with me. There's something I want to discuss."
"What happened at the Asklepion?"
"Niketas restored order, but the library is destroyed and the temple desecrated. There are many dead, but Apollonios and his daughters are safe. I want to talk about him."
"You haven't eaten. I'll tell Brisios to bring food to our room for you."
"Fine." He waved to Maria and Melodia. "Tell the widows I'm preoccupied."
When Arcadia arrived with Brisios carrying a tray of food, Getorius was scanning the scroll of Rhesus. "Brisios, put that on that table," she said, glancing at her husband. "You're still searching for clues in the drama?"
"I'm determining if that actor was more sober than he seemed. The plot deals with King Rhesus coming to Troy to help defeat the invading Greeks."
Deciding to humor him, Arcadia brought over a plate of bread, goat cheese, and olives. "If you're determined to find a parallel, then Pergamum would be Troy."
"Yes." Brisios turned to leave, but Getorius called him back. "Stay with us, we talked about this play once before. Now, the first person killed is Dolon, a Trojan who disguised himself as a wolf and went to scout the Argive camp"
"Britto wasn't the first killed, but didn't Zoë say children called him 'Red Wolf'?"
"Good, Arcadia. And Odysseus is the man who killed Dolon."
"So you suspect Tranquillus because of the gypsum on his tunic?
"I know that's hard to believe, but the presbyter is no stranger to violence. He told us he was at Bononia when Alaric tried to take the city. And, like Odysseus, he traveled a long way to get here."
Brisios asked, "Surgeon, you're saying that the presbyter killed Britto?"
"Only speculating." I can't tell Brisios that a letter from Galla Placidia to Theodosius seriously implicates Tranquillus. "Let's try to identify the others in the drama."
Arcadia picked up an olive. "The main character is Rhesus."
"Yes, and the king arrived from Thrace. Epiphania is from Trapezus and in a sense foreign. Wait." Getorius scanned the verses. "Here. He's described as 'the golden-armored Rhesus."
"Epiphania wore a golden chasuble at that acropolis rite, and she is at the center of this mystery."
"Right, Arcadia. For now let's say the presbytera is King Rhesus."
"Who killed him in the drama?"
"His officers blamed Trojan allies. I marked the line where the king is killed by a traitor's stroke. We know that Flavius murdered Epiphania, yet he must have had an informer, someone who knew where she was."
"With Epiphania alive, Apollonios had the most to lose."
"True, Arcadia, and Placidia did suggest that her informer was a certain 'A'."
"If the physician knew where Epiphania was hiding, then he would be indirectly responsible for her death through Flavius."
"The problem is that Flavius didn't know Apollonios."
Arcadia thought a moment. "Herakles is Thracian. What is his role in this?"
"Herakles would be the Chorus, helping the plot unfold. He is involved in evading taxes and possibly other criminal activities."
"We could bring an accusation against Apollonios to a magistrate."
"Are you serious, Arcadia? Two Latin strangers bringing criminal charges against Pergamum's respected physician, whose brother is city prefect?"
Brisios interrupted Arcadia's nervous laugh by asking where Odysseus went after killing Dolon.
Getorius held up the papyrus. "Back to the Greek ships on the beach."
"Does that mean Tranquillus might try to escape by sea from the port?"
"Elaea? It's possible, Brisios. Good."
Arcadia reminded her husband, "We saw Herakles with the presbyter at the Throne of Satan and both have disappeared. Where in Euripides is there anything about an empress interfering in the religious affairs of another empire?"
In defense of his theory, Getorius grumbled, "Well, the playwright isn't going to set the solution down in front of me like Brisios did that tray. But I think I've established enough say that Apollonios told Flavius where to find Epiphania."
"Fine." Arcadia decided not to continue humoring her husband. "The widows are ready to return to Ravenna and with Lydia gone, there's no one to contact about endowing that church of Pulcheria's."
Getorius spit an olive pit into his plate. "That was their purpose in coming to Pergamum. It's late in the season, but with Herakles gone, Brisios and I could go to Elaea and try finding a galley sailing to Constantinople. Better still, straight to Ravenna."
"I'll tell Maria and Melodia." Arcadia bent to kiss his cheek. "Like the Argives at Troy, I'm more than ready to leave this place. Come back as quickly as you can."
"I will cara." Getorius set the tray aside, replaced the Rhesus papyrus in its case, and stood up. "Brisios, ask Nysus to get us two horses again."
* * *
Traffic was light on the twelve-mile journey to the port. Locals had heard of rioting at Pergamum and avoided entering the city. The last merchant galleys of the season were moored for the winter and no new cargoes would be brought up to the city until spring.
Paralleling a Selenos River muddied by fall rains as it merged with the broader, Kaikos, the worn road descended gently toward the Aegean coast. Abandoned pagan shrines and small temples to field gods dotted the countryside. Some were stripped of their stonework for new constructions. In the hills above the river, ruined villas stood as mute testimony of past barbarian raids and the erosion of imperial authority that Herakles criticized.
The two men arrived at Elaea near the fifth hour. Getorius tossed a few coins to beggars at the entrance gate, thinking they might have information he could use. While watering their horses at a fountain trough in the adjacent square, the two men noticed that many buildings along the narrow side streets looked unoccupied. Even a few shops facing the square were deserted. Elaea, too, was neglected by the government at Constantinople.
A salt-air breeze from the sea freshened the mid-morning air. Getorius went to a food vendor and ordered mulled wine, bread, and portions of grilled sausages, then brought them to Brisios. "We'll warm up with these, then look for shipping offices on the docks. Some may have galleys sailing north." When he did not reply nor eat his food, Getorius sensed his slave's uneasiness. "Do you feel uncomfortable sitting with me?"
"A little, Surgeon."
"No one knows you here. Just act like you're not my, my."
"Slave?"
Getorius flushed at his own hesitation in admitting ownership. "Eat your food, Brisios, then we'll check agents and have a proper mid-day meal before returning to Pergamum."
A wharf area about the size of Ravenna's smelled of fish, salt air, and the heat
ed bitumen used to caulk vessels. Herakles had again been correct: the harbor was silting up on one side from alluvial deposits brought down by the Kaikos. The yellowish soil almost reached the base of a lighthouse on the south mole. Galleys were moored at the docks or anchored in the harbor's north arm. None were being provisioned except a sleek, bireme-class transport tied up nearby.
Questioned, a stevedore pointed to shipping offices lining the wharf area. Leading their horses, the two men walked past mosaic pavements decorated with scenes of boats, dolphins, and lighthouses. Names of ports served by agents were written in Greek. Getorius translated the words as he moved along, and then stopped at a Latin sign reading, ITALIA. The office was not shuttered and a figure moved around inside.
"Good fortune! We might find a galley sailing to Ravenna from here and the agent must speak our language. Brisios, tether the horses." Getorius stopped at his instinctive command to his slave. "We'll tether our horses to that iron wall ring."
Inside the dim office, chairs and benches were stacked against one wall as if the proprietor was closing up. A stocky, balding man, wearing a soiled tunic and leather apron, organized record ledgers. He looked up when two potential clients entered and limped from behind his counter.
"Sirs," he greeted in Calabrian-accented Latin and extending a hand. "Marcus Aurelius Minicius hopes to be of service."
Getorius shook his hand. Brisios hesitated before grasping the fleshy palm.
"I'm pleased you speak Latin," Getorius told the agent, wincing at a rancid smell from his tunic.
"Sirs," Minicius volunteered, "Brindisium is my home port. Yours?"
Getorius told him it was Ravenna.
"Ah, Jewel of the Adriatic, glorious capital of the Western Empire and of our esteemed Augustus, the Third Valentinian."
Getorius suppressed a smile. With praise like that he must think we're port inspectors. "Minicius, I must arrange passage for five persons to Ravenna."
"Therinos, in the spring? Indeed wise to reserve space this early." The agent shifted weight from a lame leg. "I can book passage now without knowing a galley's name."
"Not in the spring," Getorius corrected. "We must leave now."