Emperor's Axe

by Emperor's Axe (retail) (epub)

  ‘But?’

  Silus clamped his mouth shut, then decided there was nothing wrong with opening up to his best friend.

  ‘There is something about her. Something… captivating.’

  He waited for Atius to laugh or make some sarcastic comment. But his friend just listened patiently.

  ‘It doesn’t matter, I suppose. Of all the ridiculous fantasies, a beautiful young Egyptian priestess.’

  ‘Stranger things have happened. There is no harm in seeing her again anyway, is there? Maybe she will have heard something.’

  ‘Maybe. I might visit again tomorrow. Purely for the mission, of course.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Your turn then. Who is she?’

  ‘It’s not a she.’

  ‘Oh?’ Silus was surprised. He didn’t care whether someone was into same gender relationships, though he shared the Roman prejudice against a male taking the submissive role, whether that involved being dominated by a woman or a man. He couldn’t imagine Atius playing the submissive, but it was strange that he had never noticed him show any interest in men before. Maybe he hadn’t met the right one.

  ‘Do you want to tell me about him? What caught your eye?’

  ‘It’s not my eye, Silus. It’s my heart.’

  Silus blinked. ‘Your heart? Already? It must be someone special.’

  ‘It is, but not in the way you think.’

  ‘I’m listening.’

  Atius ran a hand over his face.

  ‘Why is this so difficult to talk about?’ he wondered out loud. Silus correctly figured that was a rhetorical question and kept quiet.

  ‘Well,’ continued Atius. ‘You know I am a follower of the Christos.’

  ‘I knew from when we first met in the prison cell of the Caledonian fort. You were singing hymns of praise to your God.’

  ‘Yes. I was raised to believe that way by my mother. But I have never really thought about it before. Believing in Christos was just a part of me. An important part, but something like supporting a faction at the races. Christos and his father were my team, and for someone else it may be Mithras, or Isis, or Minerva.’

  ‘Most worshippers of other gods don’t see it like that. They may have a favourite, but they don’t care who other people follow, as long as it doesn’t inconvenience them. And they will often worship multiple gods themselves, depending on what they are praying for, or which deity the festival is in honour of.’

  ‘I know. But we are commanded to worship only God and no other.’

  ‘It’s what has been getting your lot in trouble since the time of Nero. And the Jews before that, of course.’

  ‘What I’m trying to say is that my faith was a part of me, but not a major part. Just something that was often at the back of my mind, unless I was actually in an act of worship or prayer, which honestly wasn’t that often.’

  It was true, Silus was much more likely to disturb Atius in the company of a woman than his god.

  ‘So what has changed?’

  ‘This man. Origen his name is. He spoke, and his words meant something. I don’t know. It sounds stupid to say it out loud.’

  ‘Go on,’ encouraged Silus.

  ‘It wasn’t what he said, although his words were deep and important. It was how he said them. Like… like God was speaking to me directly.’

  He flushed and stopped talking, looking down into his cup again.

  Silus reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Thanks for sharing with me, friend. It’s hard to open up those inner feelings sometimes, isn’t it? Whether it is about love, or loss, or something else.’

  Atius looked up and smiled gratefully.

  ‘You could do something to help me.’

  ‘Name it.’

  ‘Come with me to see him.’

  Silus was taken aback. ‘Atius, you know that I am no Christian. Why would you want me there? Are you trying to get him to convert me?’

  ‘No, no, it’s not that. It’s just… I’m nervous.’

  Silus let out a laugh, then choked it off when he saw how embarrassed his friend was.

  ‘I know, mock me. I’ve faced down hordes of barbarians, been tortured, helped assassinate dangerous men. And I am scared of seeing a preacher.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Silus. ‘Some men have a power that far exceeds their physical size or apparent position in life. If you want me to come with you, I will. Just don’t expect me to leave singing hymns of praise to the Christos and all his angels.’

  * * *

  ‘We are here to see Phryne,’ said Atius.

  The porter, a bulky native Egyptian, looked them up and down disdainfully.

  ‘The mistress is busy.’

  ‘We came at the invite of… one who is a guest here.’

  The porter looked half-interested, but said nothing. Atius wet his finger and drew the sign of the fish on the wall of the vestibule. The porter looked at the sign for a moment, drying and leaving a mark in the sheen of dust. He rubbed it away with the sleeve of his tunic hastily, then scowled at them.

  ‘Wait here.’

  ‘Is the worship of Christos so dangerous?’ asked Silus.

  ‘I have never really thought about it too much. There have been edicts and persecutions, but I have always kept my head down, and it never seemed to be relevant to me personally. But in Alexandria they had a big massacre of Christians not so long ago, so they are understandably still cautious.’

  They waited at the entrance to the impressive villa in this beautiful area. They had walked past a theatre, baths and beautiful, well-maintained gardens that citizens could relax in. All the houses around the Park of Pan were large, ornate, and decorated with statues and friezes. This was definitely a well-to-do area, not quite on the same scale as the Palatine in Rome, but maybe one of the other more expensive areas, like parts of the Esquiline.

  After a few moments, the porter returned and beckoned them through. They were shown into a room filled with plushly-upholstered furniture, and settled into softly cushioned chairs. Silus looked around at the wall paintings. The subjects were peaceful and neutral – the Nile and the sea, trees and birds. No religious symbols at all, be they Christian or any other god. Presumably another sign of caution – people of all religions, including Roman and Greek officials, would be received here, and they might object to overt signs of Christianity.

  A slave girl, a dark-skinned Aethopian, came in and offered them water and some dates. Silus took them, but Atius waved them away. Silus realised his friend was too nervous to eat anything. They waited in silence, until eventually an elderly lady entered. Both of them stood straight way, inclining their heads in respectful greeting. The lady took each of their hands lightly, before indicating they should sit. She took a seat opposite them and accepted a cup of water from her slave.

  ‘I am Phryne.’ Her voice creaked with age, but was clear and firm. ‘My porter said you wished to see me.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Atius. ‘Well no. Not you exactly. Which isn’t to say… I mean, I’m sure you are…’

  ‘My friend was told by a man called Origen that he may find him here.’

  ‘Is that so?’ She tutted and shook her head. ‘That young man is altogether too trusting. After what happened to his father, too.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Atius. ‘Silus, we should go, we are being a bother.’

  Silus marvelled at this new, diffident Atius, and wondered if it was an improvement over the previous brash, sarcastic model. If it was a permanent change, he would miss his old friend.

  ‘Nonsense,’ said Phryne. ‘I am just being a fussy old woman. Nyx, summon the house guest. I believe he is at prayer currently; make sure you wait until he has finished.’

  ‘Yes, mistress,’ said the slave, and left.

  ‘So you two are fellow travellers on our path?’ asked Phryne.

  Silus waited for Atius to reply, but when he said nothing, Silus filled in. ‘My friend Atius here is a follower of the Christos. I a
m here merely to keep him company.’

  Phryne smiled, and her expression was kindly.

  ‘Well, maybe you will see or hear something today that will affect your journey.’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Silus, unable to help himself smiling back.

  Presently, Origen entered the room, with Brother John from the church service at his side. Silus rose to shake his hand, but Origen gestured to him to sit. Then, most bizarrely, Origen took a bowl of water from the slave, and knelt at Silus’ feet. He unlaced his sandals and removed them one at a time. Silus looked across to Atius in bewilderment. His friend just shrugged.

  Origen took a cloth and bathed the dust and sand off his feet. Profoundly weird as the situation was, Silus had to admit that having his feet cleansed was a pleasant sensation. When Origen had finished, he patted Silus’ feet dry with a towel, then moved over to Atius and repeated the process. Atius stared down at the holy man in awe throughout.

  When it was finished, Origen sat down and smiled at them both. Phryne bowed respectfully to Origen, ordered her slave to remove the bowl and said, ‘I will leave you brothers to your discussions.’ She shuffled out, her slave taking her arm to aid her.

  ‘Iesous the Christos said, “Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you.”’

  Silus looked confused, but Atius and Brother John nodded their agreement.

  ‘What is your name, brother?’ Origen asked Silus.

  ‘I am Silus.’

  ‘A friend to Atius, our brother in Christos, am I right?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Please, do not call me sir. I am a servant of the Lord and of all who follow him or seek to know his word.’

  ‘I’m here just to keep Atius company… brother.’

  ‘I see.’ Origen turned to Atius.

  ‘And you, brother, what brings you to the home of our friend in Christos, the Lady Phryne?’

  ‘You said I could visit, sir, brother. And I wanted to hear more of your words.’

  ‘I am not going to preach to you. But I can listen. And we can converse about life and the ways of the Lord.’

  ‘I would like that.’

  Silus sighed inwardly. This was clearly going to be a fascinating morning.

  ‘Before we begin to discuss religion and philosophy, may I ask a favour?’ he asked Origen.

  ‘If it’s in my power.’

  ‘I’m not sure if Atius has told you why we are in Alexandria.’

  ‘He has not.’

  ‘We are on a mission on behalf of Sextus Varius Marcellus, the new Governor of Numidia.’

  Origen stiffened. ‘You work for Rome?’

  ‘We do.’

  ‘I see. Brothers, I think maybe I am prevailing too much on the Lady Phryne’s hospitality. She is a poor and simple old lady, and it is unfair of me to invite guests that become a burden to her. I think I should ask you to retire. Maybe we will meet another day…’

  Silus thought that Phryne looked anything but poor and simple, and was sure she would resent the description. Still, he was pleased that they would now be able to leave without him having to find some other excuse.

  But Atius spoke.

  ‘A centurion came to the Lord and said, “Lord my servant is lying at home, and is paralysed and suffering.”’

  Origen looked at Atius through narrowed eyes, but said nothing. Atius looked upwards, seeming to search his memory. ‘The Lord said he would go to the centurion’s house to heal the servant, but the centurion said, “I am not worthy to have You under my roof. But say the word and I know my servant will be healed. For… for…”’ Atius stumbled.

  ‘“For I too am a man with authority,”’ supplied Origen. ‘“With soldiers under me. I say to one go, and he goes, and to another come, and he comes, and to my servant do this, and he does it.” And Iesous said, “I tell you in truth that I have met no one in Israel with this man’s faith.” And he said to the centurion, “Let it be done as you say.” And the servant was healed.’

  Atius nodded in thanks for the help with the story.

  ‘Tell me why you mention this tale of the Lord.’

  ‘My mother told me that story. She said it didn’t matter if you were Jewish or Roman, or Celtiberian. All you needed was faith in the Lord.’

  Origen pursed his lips, then bowed his head. ‘You shame me.’ He looked at Silus. ‘Ask your favour.’

  ‘We seek a missing child. The son of Marcellus. He was abducted and brought to Alexandria, and we followed the kidnapper here. But now we are at a loss. Alexandria is a big city. And a confusing one.’

  Origen nodded. ‘It’s a noble mission. From the look of you both I expected that maybe… well, no matter. But how can I help you?’

  Silus wasn’t sure whether or not to be offended by the comment about their appearance. He ran a hand over his unruly beard, noted a few shallow scars under his fingertips, and thought that maybe he did have the countenance of a man of violence.

  ‘I think you know many people in Alexandria. And people trust you. Or at least your people do. Have you heard anything about a missing child? An important one.’

  ‘I’m sorry no, I haven’t. But you are right, people do talk to me. How old is the child?’

  ‘Around eight or nine years.’

  ‘His name?’

  ‘Varius Avitus Bassianus.’

  ‘And is there anything else I should know about him?’

  Silus hesitated. Avitus’ religious beliefs wouldn’t endear him to Origen, but it would be useful information for him nevertheless.

  ‘He is a follower of an eastern god, called Elagabal. He is meant to be high priest one day.’

  Origen frowned. Then he said, ‘Well, there are a lot of false religions in Alexandria. And if he is just a boy, it is not his fault how he was raised. He has plenty of time to see the light and be brought to the true path.’

  ‘So you will help us?’

  ‘My power to assist you in this is very limited, but yes, I will find out what I can. There is a poor innocent child separated from his parents. And the Lord said that the Kingdom of Heaven belonged to such as these.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘And now, to heavenly matters. Tell me, Atius. How good is God?’

  ‘God is… great?’

  ‘Of course. But how great?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘That is the correct answer. I think deeply about these things and pray on them for guidance. I have proved on first principles that God is not corporeal. Therefore, God is incomprehensible, and incapable of being measured. So if we were to obtain any knowledge of God, from our own thoughts or reflections, God must by necessity, by necessity mark you, be many degrees greater than we could possibly imagine.’

  Atius opened his mouth and closed it again, eyes narrowed as his brain tried to follow the argument. Silus didn’t even attempt it.

  ‘This type of argument is fascinating for philosophers and followers of your faith,’ he said. ‘But I think it is maybe too theoretical for a simple soldier like me. And I do have a mission – a boy to find. Atius, please, stay here and talk to the wise man. I will take my leave.’

  ‘As you wish,’ said Origen. ‘It was a pleasure to meet you.’

  Silus rose, bowed respectfully to Origen and patted Atius on the shoulder. His friend acknowledged him vaguely, then returned his attention to the holy man. Silus left the sounds of theological conversation behind him.

  * * *

  Silus found himself wandering through the streets of Alexandria on his own. He didn’t know how he felt about his friend’s newfound fascination with Christianity. He hoped it wouldn’t interfere with either their friendship or their work. But Atius was his own man, and Silus had never tried to stop him doing anything before. Well, not unless it was really stupid.

  The Park of Pan was a short distance from the Via Canopica, the huge tree-lin
ed boulevard that bisected the city from east to west. It was impressive, on a level with the Via Sacra that ran through Rome. And as busy, with a constant heavy flow of traffic, as well as professionals and artisans of all types crying out for business. To the west he could see the huge marketplace, the agora, which was a rough equivalent to the Roman forum. He was tempted to go and lose himself among its attractions, and forget the rest of the world – his mission, his job, the alluring priestess.

  But the job needed to be done, and he was making scant progress on tracking the boy down. For all he knew, he had already been smuggled out of the city, and was on his way to another place in the vast Roman Empire.

  But he didn’t think so. Why go to the trouble of making the long and hazardous journey from Syracuse to Alexandria when other cities were nearer? They had come to Alexandria for a reason.

  Should he go and see Tekosis again? Maybe she would have some information for him. Or maybe he just wanted to see her, ridiculous as that was. He sighed, and set off east down the Via Canopica, admiring the awe-inspiring temples, monuments and other buildings. He would have to find someone who could tell him what they all were when he had time.

  He passed the royal quarter, where the prefect’s palace was, and turned north towards the Temple of Isis Lochias. His heart started to beat a little faster in his chest. He wasn’t sure if it was from nervousness or excitement. He swallowed the fluttering sensation in his stomach down as he approached the temple.

  A woman ran out of the temple, screaming, the hem of her tunic flapping around her knees in the breeze she made from her flight. Silus stopped in surprise as she fled in his direction. She saw him, screamed again, and veered off.

  What was going on?

  Now a man ran out, a temple servant with a shaven head and a long tunic.

  ‘Help!’ he cried. ‘Thieves.’

  Silus caught him by the arm as he passed by, pulled him up short.

  ‘What is happening?’

  ‘Men in the temple. Thieves, murderers. I must get help.’ He ripped himself free and hurried off.

  Silus drew his sword and ran.

  The temple was dark inside, and it took a moment for his vision to adjust. Then he saw two burly men. One grabbed a marble statue of a cat and dashed it to the ground. It was solid, so it didn’t shatter, but the head broke off and rolled away. He laughed.