‘Your village survives, though a priest dies and a priestess gets raped.’
‘Raped? I didn’t…’
‘One of your friends did. Or tried. But he is dead now.’
The prisoner looked down, at least a little shamefaced.
‘Now, tell us who it was that hired you.’
‘I don’t know him.’
‘Was he Jewish?’ asked Atius.
‘I couldn’t tell.’
‘His accent, his appearance? Did he look or sound Jewish?’
‘I didn’t speak to him!’
‘Then who did?’
‘Menkheperresenb!’
‘What? Is that a curse?’
‘Menkheperresenb is my brother!’
Shit. This one knew nothing.
‘Where is your brother?’ asked Silus tentatively, fearing that he had put his blade through the one who could help them get to the bottom of the raid.
‘He fled. With the statue. He must have thought I was dead, or he would never have left me.’
Silus grunted. Greed and fear were powerful enough emotions on their own. Together, he was sure they could lead a man to abandon his own brother, regardless of whether he thought he was alive or dead.
‘So he will have returned to your village?’
‘Yes, that was the plan. Then the man who hired us was going to come to the village five days after the raid, to collect the statue and pay us.’
Now they were making progress. They just had to get to the village, beat up this man’s brother, this Menkhythingy – he would have to write that down – and then wait for the man who had hired them to turn up. He might need some extra help if they were going to subdue a whole village though. It was time to report to Marcellus in any case.
‘Tell us how to reach your village.’
* * *
‘What’s going on, Silus?’ asked Marcellus. His voice was strained and there were dark rings around his eyes. His beard was unkempt, his hair messy and he didn’t look like he had had much sleep.
‘Sir, we need some legionaries.’
‘You’ve found him?’
The hope in Marcellus’ voice was heartbreaking, and it was worse when Silus had to disabuse him.
‘No, sir.’
‘But you have a lead?’
‘Not exactly, sir.’
‘Damnit, Silus, have you made any progress at all?’
‘I don’t know why you put any faith in these thugs,’ said Soaemias, seated in a plush chair and being attended by her ornatrix, who was making adjustments to her hairstyle. ‘Send them back to Rome. They are doing more harm than good here.’
Marcellus threw her an annoyed glance, but didn’t contradict her. At least she wasn’t calling for Silus’ execution this time.
‘Explain yourself, Silus.’
‘Sir, Alexandria is a nightmare. All these factions that hate each other. It’s like the houses in the poorest parts of Rome, ready to go up in a fire that would consume the city if someone applies a spark.’
‘It’s not like you to offer an excuse for failure, Silus,’ said Marcellus.
‘It’s not an excuse, sir. I am telling you the reality. And I haven’t failed.’ At least not yet, Silus thought.
‘Fine. Tell me everything.’
Silus took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
‘I met a woman.’
Marcellus rolled his eyes, but didn’t interrupt.
‘The priestess of Isis. The one who helped us when Atius had his little… mishap.’
‘What about her?’
‘I went to see her, to see if she would help us.’
‘How could she do that?’
‘The priests and priestesses hear everything, eventually. She could find out a lot for us, if she was so minded.’
‘And is she so minded?’
‘Not at first. But then I came to her aid when her temple was attacked. And she has agreed to help me now. But only if I do something for her in return.’
‘Go on.’
‘I am to recover a stolen religious artefact, and find out who was behind the attack.’
‘It was probably the Jews,’ said Marcellus. ‘But how are you going to find the artefact?’
‘I have tracked it down to a village south of Alexandria, on the banks of the Nile. If I travel there in time, with a small force of men, we can capture the one who ordered the attack.’
‘This just seems like an unnecessary delay.’
‘Sir, if the mob find out this statue is missing, there will be a riot.’
‘I don’t care if Alexandria falls into the sea! I just want my son back!’ Marcellus’ voice was rising, and Silus tried to keep his tone calm.
‘And what if your son is caught up in a riot? Trapped in a burning building, or trampled by an angry mob?’
Marcellus subsided.
‘Besides, this is how we find your son. It enables us to get assistance from someone much better connected than the prefect, or the Greek elites who run this place without any idea what is actually happening in their own city.’
‘This is ridiculous,’ said Soaemias. ‘Marcellus, I can’t believe you are even listening to this nonsense. Have these idiots thrown out.’
‘And what is your plan to find our son, dear?’
‘We round up some Jews and some followers of Christos and execute them, then threaten to kill more until our son is produced.’
Silus clenched his jaw but said nothing. He could feel Atius tensing beside him, and he reached out and lightly touched his arm, mentally urging restraint.
‘I have to say, Silus, your way seems a bit of a long shot.’
‘At the moment, sir, I believe it is our best chance. And it has the double benefit of keeping the city pacified. Whereas the mistress’s plan here would achieve the exact opposite.’
Marcellus hesitated, but before could speak, Silus said urgently, ‘Give us the legionaries, sir. We will sail down the Nile tomorrow, sort this matter out, then come back and find your boy. And if we don’t, your wife’s plan is still an option.’
‘Very well. But if my son is not found soon, then people will start to die, and to Hades with the consequences.’
‘Yes, sir.’
* * *
The day after she was assaulted, it was as if the event had never occurred, thought Silus. At least outwardly. Tekosis was immaculately dressed and adorned, make-up covered her bruises, and her demeanour was serene. If he looked closely, he could see the swelling around her cut lip, but a casual observer wouldn’t be able to tell.
He watched her for a moment. She knelt on a cushion in the main hall before a small altar. A white dove sat patiently in a gold cage, cocking its head curiously. She lifted her arms to the heavens and intoned a prayer. A number of worshippers, also kneeling, gave the required response. She opened the cage, reached in and took out the bird. She soothed it gently with strokes of her fingertips, and it remained calm, not attempting to flap.
With one smooth action she picked up a sharp curved knife from the altar and slit the bird’s throat, then held it over a silver bowl. Now it struggled and jerked, but she continued to soothe it until it was still, head flopped over to one side. She laid it respectfully on the altar and then picked up the bowl with both hands. She lifted it to her lips, tilted her head back, and took a deep sip, then replaced it.
‘We give thanks to you, great goddess. Accept this humble sacrifice as a sign of our devotion.’
She turned to the congregation.
‘The blessings of the goddess be with you all.’
The worshippers murmured their response. ‘Blessings of the goddess.’ Then they slowly rose to their feet and filed out. Now Tekosis noticed Silus, standing at the back, and she smiled and beckoned him over.
He approached her, still a little nervous in her presence. She held out both hands and he took them, and impulsively placed a kiss on one hand. She giggled, a tinkling little laugh, and then pulled her hands back.
‘How are you?’ he asked with genuine concern.
‘The goddess heals, Silus. I am as new.’
He knew that was not true – the slight swelling on her lip gave that away. But he was pleased she seemed in good spirits after the traumatic event. He knew how badly that sort of violation, or attempted violation, could affect a woman. He also knew that those hurts were not always visible on the surface, and he wondered how she really was. But he didn’t know her well enough to question further.
‘I have some news for you. The men who attacked you were from a village near Hermopolis Mikra.’
‘We call it Dmi-n-Hr,’ corrected Tekosis.
‘Yes. There. They were paid by someone to steal the statue and desecrate the temple.’
Her face twisted in anger. ‘The Jews,’ she said. ‘I knew it.’
‘The man who hired them is going to collect the statue from their village in a couple of days. The governor has given me some men, and we are going to travel there, recover the statue and apprehend whoever was behind all this. Then we will find out for sure.’
Tekosis smiled, stepped forward and threw her arms around him. She planted a soft kiss on his cheek, then stepped back.
‘Thank you, Silus,’ she said. ‘You don’t know how important this is for me. And for the city.’
‘It’s a bargain, remember,’ said Silus, his face tingling from where her lips touched. ‘While I am gone, you will do your best to find the boy.’
‘Yes, yes,’ she said. ‘I will try. It’s all I can promise.’
Silus nodded.
‘When do you depart?’
‘We don’t want to arrive too early, or we will have to keep the villagers subdued for a long time. We will sail tomorrow morning.’
‘And until then?’
Silus shrugged.
‘Then why don’t you have a proper look around our beautiful city?’
‘It sounds like a good idea, but I wouldn’t know where to start.’
‘Would you like a guide?’
‘Well, I suppose. Do you know where I could find one?’
She laughed again.
‘I’m offering my services, silly.’
‘Oh. Well. That is very kind. If you don’t have duties here?’
‘My work is done for the day. Let’s go.’
* * *
Silus’ legs ached. Alexandria was a big city, and he felt like he had walked every inch of it, although he knew in reality he had barely scratched the surface. She had taken him to the Mouseion and Great Library, and they had walked through the vast campus with its gardens with colonnaded walkways, and sat on one of the exedra, the semi-circular seats that broke the line of columns intermittently. From there they watched the earnest, serious scholars wander past, deep in conversation with each other, or musing alone, silently, or often in loud voices. Tekosis had commented how self-absorbed they were, how detached from the real world, and Silus was inclined to agree.
She had shown him around the library, with its huge numbers of scrolls of almost all the books that had ever been written. She had told him how the original rulers of Alexandria, the Ptolemies, had ordered all ships that came to the busy harbour searched for books, which were confiscated and copied before being returned. Although there had been a fire in Caesar’s time, most of the library had survived, and the vast amount of information contained here was unimaginable to Silus.
Now they were at a lecture, sitting at the back, listening to a long-haired philosopher declaiming loudly to the audience of rapt students. The subject was Aristotelian metaphysics, something about existence, and how things can continue to exist when they change. It reminded Silus of something his father had told him. He had broken an axe head chopping wood and had to buy a new one; the next week he had broken the shaft, and had to carve himself a new one. His father had asked Silus whether it was still the same axe, a question which had kept his boyhood self up late at night trying to work it out.
Thinking about an axe brought back another memory, sudden and unwelcome. The weight of the tool in his hands, covered in blood, Papinianus groaning at his feet.
Tekosis noticed the sudden change in his demeanour, took him by the hand and led him out of the lecture.
‘Are you well? I know it was a little boring.’
He smiled weakly. ‘Philosophy makes my head ache.’
‘You aren’t religious, and you aren’t philosophical. What are you, Silus?’
‘I like to think I’m practical.’
Tekosis nodded. ‘I believe you are. Would you like to see something else?’
The next stop was the tomb of Alexander the Great. Silus couldn’t help but be impressed at the thought that the greatest general the world had ever known was buried in a crystal tomb beneath this little pyramid. But the throng crowded around the mausoleum, showing respect, worshipping or just gawking, and they couldn’t get near.
So Tekosis took him to the Serapeum in the south-west. This enormous structure, situated on a ridge that ran along the south of the city, was visible from most places in Alexandria. When they got close, Silus realised that like the Mouseion, this was also a complex of buildings – a library, lecture halls and shrines to various gods. The complex consisted of large arches, with huge windows situated above each arch. Inside were various chambers, courtyards and chapels. Tekosis took him first to the subsidiary shrine of Isis, where she paid her respects to the high priest of that temple.
The Temple of Serapis itself was enormous, surrounded by gigantic marble columns. When they walked inside, the first thing that demanded attention was a titanic statue of Serapis. The god’s arms were outstretched, and they were so long they touched the walls of the temple to Silus’ left and right.
Tekosis took Silus by the hand and led him to a corner.
‘Look at this.’
Silus frowned, his eyes adjusting to the gloomy light inside the temple. There was an odd-looking contraption, with a reservoir, and some strange mechanical collection of gears and levers.
‘Do you have an obol?’
Silus searched through his purse and pulled out one of the small silver coins they used for currency in the Greek-speaking half of the Empire. He handed it to her, and she inserted it into the machine. She held out a clay vessel beneath a spout. There was a metallic whir, and water poured out into the vessel, continuing until it was three-quarters full. Then the flow stopped with an abrupt click.
‘What just happened?’ asked Silus, confused.
‘Well, some see it as a miracle. The reality is that this machine was invented by a great inventor called Hero. It dispenses a measured amount of holy water when you insert a coin. It saves the priests from the boring job.’
She splashed the water over her face and neck, then did the same for Silus.
‘The blessings of Isis and Serapis be upon you. Now you are purified, let me show you some more wonders.’
She showed him a metallic, moving piece of work that she said represented the position of the earth at the centre of the universe, a fountain which flowed continually, powered, so she said, by the light of the sun, a tableau of Hercules and a dragon which, when a stone was lifted, caused Hercules to shoot the dragon with an arrow, the dragon emitting a hissing noise. There was even a model of a person who, when a lever was pulled, blew air through a trumpet to make a noise.
Tekosis laughed at Silus’ amazed reaction. He had never seen anything like it.
‘How is all this possible?’
‘Silus, Alexandria is the seat of learning. More than Athens or Rome. We have had the greatest philosophers and the greatest inventors, all drawn here by the library and the Mouseion. The city may not be in its golden age any more, but I believe that time will come again.’
‘How?’
She reached out and touched his face. ‘All things are possible to the gods of the city. Isis and Serapis will protect and nurture us, as they always have.’
The touch of her fingers was gentle, and
he let out an involuntary sigh.
‘Will you take me back to my temple?’ she asked.
‘Of course.’
He held out his arm, and she took it, and they walked together, making light conversation, Tekosis pointing out landmarks and sights, Silus asking interested questions.
Night was falling as they reached the Temple of Isis Lochias. The main room was quiet, just two or three devoted worshippers. Silus eyed them suspiciously, but decided the two old women and the small child were no threat. He accompanied Tekosis to her chamber doors.
‘Good night, then.’
She stepped forward and kissed him lightly on the lips. He looked at her in confusion. She stroked his beard with her fingertips, then circled her arms around his neck and kissed him again, more deeply this time. He leaned into the kiss. She tasted of spice, and smelt of strong but not overpowering perfume. Her body was warm, and felt slight, fragile in his arms. He worried he would crush her if he squeezed too tight.
When the kiss broke, he looked deeply into her eyes.
‘I don’t understand. You’re a priestess.’
That tinkling laugh again. ‘Silus, you are funny. I’m not a Vestal Virgin. Isis, the Queen of Heaven, the Maker of Sunrise, is the goddess of love and fertility. She is the wife of Osiris and the mother of Horus. Can such a one be chaste?’
‘Well, no…’
‘And the goddess lives through me. She is inside me. Should I insult her by behaving in a way alien to her nature?’
‘Definitely not,’ said Silus, warming to the line of reasoning.
She took his hand and drew him into her chambers. It was dim, an oil lamp burning scented oil on a table. She reached up and undid a brooch, and with a shrug of her shoulders, her dress fell to the floor. He gasped as he saw her naked body in silhouette, slim and petite. She pulled him to her, stepping slowly backwards until her calves were against her bed. She lay back on the bed and looked up at him. He hesitated. Swallowed. Then he fell into her, and let her envelope him.
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