The other had a priest by throat, pressed up against a wall, and was pounding his fist into his face. Blood spurted from the bald man’s nose, and he struggled feebly against his attacker. Then, before Silus could react, he drew a blade from his belt and thrust it up under the priest’s ribs.
Silus flew into motion. With the priest still sliding slowly down the wall, clutching at his killer, Silus hit the attacker in the back with his shoulder, smashing his face into the wall. The man crumpled to the floor, stuporous.
The other attacker recovered after a moment’s shocked immobility. He took the cat’s head and hurled it at Silus. Silus ducked to his left, and the head smashed against the brickwork. The attacker drew an axe and said something that sounded like an Egyptian curse. He charged at Silus, and Silus raised his sword to block the attempt to hack at his head. He turned the blow away and downwards, then raised his sword to counterattack.
The man was not a skilled fighter, but he was big and aggressive. He waved his axe left and right at waist height, making Silus jump backwards, once, twice.
It was nicely predictable. On the third swing, Silus stepped outside the arc and thrust his sword into the man’s guts. He twisted and pulled his weapon free. The Egyptian grabbed at the hole in his abdomen, which was leaking large quantities of blood and foetid-smelling brown liquid. Then he toppled forward.
Now the noise of combat had died down, he heard more commotion from further inside the temple. A man yelled, another laughed, and then a woman screamed, high-pitched and despairing. Silus ran into the large meeting room that was adjacent to Tekosis’ chambers.
The noise was not coming from the chambers, but from the sanctuary. The great wooden door was hanging wide open. Silus sprinted through.
Three men were inside. One held the golden statue of Isis aloft in both hands, a look of wonder on his face. The other two held Tekosis down on the altar. Her robe had been torn apart, and her lip was cut and bleeding. She struggled and wept as one of her attackers positioned himself between her legs, leaning forward to pin her down with one hand on an exposed breast.
With a cry of rage, Silus gripped his sword with two hands and swung with all his strength. The carefully maintained edge cleaved straight through the neck of Tekosis’ attacker. His head parted from his body, and tumbled sideways through the air, rotating as it went, to land on the floor with a heavy thump. The decapitated corpse toppled forward onto Tekosis, pumping blood from the meaty wound over her face and body.
Tekosis screamed hysterically, and the man on the far side of the altar who had been holding her shoulders stared in disbelief. His paralysis was fatal. Silus leapt onto the altar, stood towering above the man, sword still in a double-handed grip. The man let go of Tekosis and raised his hands in defence.
He might as well have been holding his hands up against a collapsing tower. Silus thrust down with all his strength and all his weight. The sword entered behind the man’s collarbone, and went deep down into his chest, lacerating heart and lungs. The killing blow of a gladiator. He fell backwards with barely a sound, dragging the sword out of Silus’ hands.
Silus whirled, aware that there was a third attacker, and he was suddenly unarmed. But the third man was gone, and he had taken the gold statue with him.
Silus briefly considered giving pursuit. But Tekosis was still struggling to push the dead body off her chest, sobbing uncontrollably. Silus jumped down from the altar, grabbed the body by the collar of its tunic and hurled it to one side. Tekosis threw herself off the altar, landing on her backside on the floor, and scuffled backwards away from Silus until her back hit the wall.
She sat there, gasping and choking on her sobs, one hand extended palm out to Silus, fending him away, the other hand clutching her torn robe closed. Silus squatted down on his haunches a respectful, safe distance away.
‘Tekosis,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s me. Silus. Do you remember me?’
She stared at him for a moment, then put her hand to her mouth. Unable to stop the reflex, she leaned to one side and vomited, her body convulsing heave after heave as she emptied her stomach contents. When she was done, she looked up at Silus in misery. Strands of saliva and vomit hung from her mouth. Her white robe had turned as red as a butcher’s apron. Tear tracks stained her cheeks.
Silus looked around him, found a relatively unbloodied part of one of the attacker’s tunics, and ripped free a cloth. He moved towards Tekosis and she shrank back further against the wall. He made a soothing noise, as if he was talking calmly to a frightened animal. He spat on the cloth, then reached out and wiped her face in long slow strokes, cleaning away the blood spatters and tears and vomitus.
When she was a little cleaner, he held a hand out to her. She hesitated, then took it, and he helped her to her feet. She tried to push him away, then her knees gave way, and he caught her, supporting her weight until she found her strength again. Slowly he helped her out of the sacrarium. As she walked through to her chambers, she took in the destruction and the dead bodies of the priest and his killers. Once she was inside, he stepped out, shut the door, and went to inspect the surviving assailant. He was breathing noisily through his smashed nose, conscious but only just. Silus tore his tunic into strips and twisted them together to form two ropes with which he bound him hand and foot. Then he went to retrieve his sword. He heaved it out of the chest of the dead man and cleaned it thoroughly on the man’s clothing. When he was satisfied it was spotless, he sheathed it and stood outside the closed chamber door, his arms crossed.
From inside came little sounds, splashing water, scrubbing, soft crying. After a long while, Silus knocked tentatively on the door. He was rewarded by a scream.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to check all is well.’
For a moment there was silence – no movement, no words. Then the door swung open.
Silus looked inside. Tekosis was standing in the middle of the room. Her long hair was wet. Her face was clean. She wore a clean robe, pristine white. She looked incredibly vulnerable, and incredibly beautiful, and Silus’ heart caught in his throat in wonder and pity.
She remained still for an extended moment. Then she took two rapid steps forward and clutched him, crying into his shoulder. He hesitated, then wrapped his arms around her and held her close until her sobs subsided.
When she was cried empty, he carefully released her. She stepped back and wiped her tears and nose.
‘Thank you, Silus. You saved me from…’ She couldn’t finish the sentence. Silus just nodded.
‘Who were they?’ he asked.
‘Native Egyptians. Hired thugs who live in the countryside. Someone paid them to come here and do this.’
‘Who would do that?’
‘The Jews.’ She spat on the floor. ‘They hate other religions. They have their one god, and no one but Jews are allowed to worship him, but neither should they worship anyone else because in their eyes all other gods are false.’
‘Are there many Jews in the city?’
‘Fewer than there once were, praise be to Isis. Many were killed when they rebelled a hundred years ago. They destroyed and desecrated many temples, the Serapeum, the Nemeseion, temples to Greek and Roman and Egyptian gods. They damaged my own temple, this Temple of Isis Lochias. And for it, they were punished. The Greeks and Alexandrians slaughtered them, once the Romans had regained control. But they have crept back into the city and grown in number since then. Even though they keep their heads down and don’t take an active part in city life now, it is still rumoured that they murder non-Jews, desecrate our temples, and steal our babies for their rituals. They should all be thrown to the beasts.’
Silus listened to this diatribe in shocked silence. He was aware that Jews were not well-liked throughout the Empire, but there had been none where he grew up, and he wasn’t sure if he had ever met one. Some of the foreign soldiers in the auxiliaries in Britannia may have been Jewish, but they were all easterners to him and he hadn’t enquired
that closely.
The Romans were intrinsically xenophobic, with no respect for other cultures or peoples. But he hadn’t come across such naked hatred for other inhabitants of the Empire before. External enemies, yes, but not fellow citizens and residents. He wondered why the Jews were tolerated at all if they were so evil.
‘I think you should drink some wine.’
Silus went to the side table from where Tekosis had poured him wine before. There was still some in a jug, and he poured a generous quantity into a cup and handed it to her. She drank, and he watched her trembling hands as she tried not to spill any.
There was a knock on the door.
‘Priestess? Priestess!’
Silus opened the door to come face to face with a Roman legionary, sword drawn. Behind him, three others were looking around at the death and destruction within the temple.
‘Who are you?’ barked the legionary, pointing his sword towards Silus’ throat. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I am Centurion Silus,’ said Silus calmly. ‘Of the Arcani. Working for Governor Sextus Varius Marcellus.’
‘Oh,’ said the legionary. He dropped his sword and saluted. ‘Sorry, sir. What happened?’
‘I’m trying to find that out myself. The priestess has been assaulted and a priest has been killed. There has been a theft, too.’
‘Theft?’ asked Tekosis, confused. Silus realised that in her fear and distress, she hadn’t noticed that the statue of Isis had been taken.
‘The big gold figurine of your goddess,’ said Silus. ‘The last surviving attacker took it and fled.’
‘Oh no.’ Tekosis held her hand to her chest and paled even more than Silus thought was possible.
‘Was it very valuable?’ he asked.
‘Its value doesn’t matter,’ she snapped. ‘It is my goddess, the personification of her here on earth. It is blessed and sacred. And now the Jews have it, and they will do unholy things to it.’
She put her face in her hands and began to sob again.
‘The Jews?’ asked the legionary, confused.
‘She believes the Jews are behind the attack.’
‘Probably right,’ commented the legionary. ‘Nasty, untrustworthy bunch.’
‘There is no evidence it was them.’
The legionary shrugged non-committally.
Tekosis clutched Silus’ tunic. ‘Silus. Will you find it for me? Please? Bring back our sacred statue. Or the temple will be desecrated.’
Silus hesitated. ‘Legionary, can you give us some privacy for a moment? And can a couple of your men take the man I tied up to a cell at the royal palace so I can question him later?’
‘Of course, sir.’ The legionary left the room and closed the door behind him. Tekosis looked at Silus questioningly. Silus thought for a moment, unsure how to put into words his thoughts, or whether he even should. Tekosis filled the silence.
‘You saved my life.’
‘Maybe. They may not have killed you.’
‘Why not? If they were prepared to desecrate a priestess, why would they stop at killing her? They killed my fellow priest.’
Silus acknowledged her point with an inclination of his head.
‘What did you want to say to me, Silus? Will you help me?’
Silus’ mouth worked as he formulated the words.
‘Yesterday, I asked you for help.’
Tekosis looked at him steadily, face expressionless. Silus continued.
‘You said it was none of your business and you weren’t interested.’
‘I didn’t use those words.’
Silus searched his memory. ‘You said you belong to Isis, and the goddess has no interest in the fate of a Roman boy.’
‘Yes. Something like that.’
‘So tell me, why should I, and the all-powerful Emperor of Rome whom I serve, have any interest in the fate of the religious symbols of your goddess?’
Fury flashed in Tekosis’ eyes. But it didn’t last. Too much fear and emotion had gone through her in the last hour to sustain anything as powerful as anger. Her shoulders slumped.
‘Won’t you do it for me?’
‘Why do you need me? I’m not a native, I don’t know my way around Alexandria.’
‘I know of the Arcani. I know your reputation. I know what you do. I don’t have men working for me who could do this on my behalf. And as you have said, of what interest would it be to the Roman authorities?’
Silus cocked his head on one side. ‘And what will be in it for me?’
Tekosis flushed and pulled her robe tighter around her.
‘Of what help will this be to my mission?’ he clarified.
‘Oh.’ She thought for a moment. ‘Listen. I have no men, no network of spies gathering intelligence on my behalf, no assassins who work for me. But I do know people in this city. People who respect me. I can ask questions on your behalf. Words in the right ears. I can’t guarantee anything. But I can do what I can.’
‘A trade then. My help for yours.’
‘If that’s what it takes to get your help, then yes.’
Silus nodded and extended his hand. ‘We have a deal. I will look for your goddess. You will look for my missing boy.’
Tekosis shook his hand, and he noticed it had regained some strength.
Silus looked around. Tekosis’ private chambers had not been damaged, but he knew the rest of the temple had taken a beating. ‘Do you live here all the time?’
‘Yes.’
‘Would you like me to arrange somewhere else for you to stay? Until the place is repaired?’
Tekosis smiled. ‘I will not be driven out of my home and my holy temple. I will stay here.’
‘Very well. I will go and talk to the attacker who survived. And I’ll make sure the legionaries guard the temple, at least for now. I’ll come back when I have more to tell.’
‘Thank you. And I hope I have something for you then as well. And Silus. Keep the theft secret. If it gets out that someone has stolen the sacred statue, the city will explode. That will help no one. I will keep the sacrarium locked, and say I am rededicating it.’
Silus nodded. ‘I’ll tell the legionaries to keep it to themselves too. They won’t want to see a riot either, as it would be them that would have to deal with it.’
Tekosis gave a half-smile. ‘Thank you, Silus. For all of it.’ She took his hand and squeezed it gently, and all the images of snot and tears and vomit and blood and angry words vanished from his mind.
Chapter Nine
The basement of the royal palace had a suitably dingy and smelly cell. The Egyptian prisoner was chained by manacles to the wall, and was now fully conscious, though his face was a mess where it had impacted the masonry in the temple. The legionary closed the door behind them, muttering that he didn’t know why they were bothering to interrogate the man when everyone knew it was the Jews. Silus and Atius were left alone with the prisoner. Silus stood a foot in front of the man, who let out a long stream of Egyptian which Silus presumed was not complimentary. With index finger extended, he poked the Egyptian hard in the eye.
He screamed, rattled his manacles, tried to put his hand to his eye in vain, and then let out another stream of curses. Silus held up his finger again, and he twisted his head away. Atius took hold of his chin in a firm grip and turned his face back towards Silus.
‘I presume you speak Greek.’
Another stream of Egyptian expletives. Silus jabbed him hard in the eye again, evoking another scream.
‘Yes, yes, I speak Greek,’ said the Egyptian.
‘Progress,’ commented Atius.
‘What’s your name?’ asked Silus.
‘Ankhtakelot.’
‘You were hired, weren’t you, Ankhtakelot?’ asked Silus. ‘You didn’t raid the sacred Temple of Isis just for fun, or for a valuable statue that you would never be able to sell.’
The man grunted and Silus wiggled his finger.
‘Yes, we were hired.’
‘G
ood. By whom?’
The Egyptian clamped his mouth shut.
‘There are worse torture instruments than a finger, you know,’ said Silus.
‘What will happen to me?’
Silus exchanged glances with Atius. ‘You killed a priest. What do you think should happen to you?’
‘If you want to find out where the stolen statue is, or who was behind it, then you should let me go.’
‘We could just torture it out of you. You would tell us eventually, in return for a quick death.’
Ankhtakelot started to shake, his bravado evaporating.
‘I will tell you everything. Just let me go.’
Silus turned to Atius, and covered his mouth with one hand to whisper in Latin, ‘How fanatical do you think these guys are?’
‘I have no idea,’ Atius whispered back. ‘We don’t know why he has done this. You are thinking he might give us false information under torture, and then by the time we find out we have already killed him?’
‘Maybe.’
Silus turned back to the Egyptian. ‘Fine, here’s the deal. Tell us all you know. We will check it out. If you are telling the truth, we will see what we can do about getting you a lenient sentence.’
The Egyptian considered, but he knew this was a generous offer.
‘A man came to our village. We work in the fields on the banks of the Nile, near the city of Dmi-n-Hr. The Greeks call it Hermopolis Mikra. He said he would pay us well if we raided a temple and stole an artefact for him. The inundation was below expectations last year; times are hard.’
‘Inundation?’
The man looked at Silus and Atius in confusion. ‘The inundation of the Nile? You don’t know about it?’
Silus shrugged.
‘It’s the most important thing that happens in Egypt every year. If the Nile floods too much we drown, too little and we starve. Just right, and everything is good. Why are we talking about this?’
‘You brought it up.’
‘Look, we were hired to steal a statue, and do some damage while we were there. That money will allow our village to feed itself for a year.’
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