Slowly the pockets of disorder they encountered reduced in size and frequency, until, as the sun was dipping to the horizon, way off to the west behind the Serapeum, they had reached this spot, and Origen had halted.
‘I’ve read the good news of Marcus,’ said Atius.
‘He came to Alexandria just a few years after the crucifixion of our Saviour. As he entered the city, one of the straps on his sandals broke. He took the sandal to a cobbler, pleased that the Lord had given him a simple means of getting in contact with the local people. But as the cobbler repaired the sandal, his awl went through his hand, and he cursed, “O, the one God.”
‘Mark talked to him about the true one God, and that cobbler became the head of the Christian community in Alexandria after Mark’s death.
‘Mark himself was dragged to this spot through the streets by an angry mob as he preached to them about love and truth and was killed here. This shrine is sacred to the faithful.’
They bowed their heads for a moment in silent prayer, and Atius felt something settle over him, a peace that he thought maybe he had never experienced. Until now, Atius’ religion had been something he had been born into, something tribal, as immutable as the place of your birth or the colour of your skin. Now, in the presence of this inspiring preacher, on the spot of the death of a man who had walked with the apostles, he felt something much deeper. He reached for it, but felt it was just out of his grasp.
‘What should I do, brother?’
Origen looked him in the eye.
‘The scriptures have many commandments for you, brother. But I can say to you no more than the words of our Lord, the Christos. “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and all your mind and all your soul. And do to others what you would have them do to yourself.”’
Atius nodded. It would be hard. He didn’t think life was that simple. But he thought he would like to try. He noticed a tear had formed in the corner of his eye, and he wiped it away, embarrassed. Origen had noticed, though, and smiled sympathetically.
‘Thank you,’ Atius said, and they held hands in a two-handed grip, and Origen whispered words of blessing.
* * *
It was all one big pile of donkey shit, Silus decided. A load of excrement, crawling with dung beetles. All the religions were the same at the end of the day. Offering you one thing or another – glory, salvation, retribution on your enemies, a happy afterlife. But whether you followed Christos or Jupiter or Mithras or Elagabal, it was all a big swarm of lies, designed to manipulate the gullible. Maybe the gods didn’t even exist. If they did, they certainly didn’t give a shit about the likes of him. He sighed and entered Soaemias’ bedchamber.
‘You kept your word,’ she said. Her voice was croaky, like an old woman with a chest complaint. She had asked to see Silus as soon as the physicians had finished fussing with her. Now they were alone together.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I tend to do that. It’s a weakness.’ His thoughts drifted back to Tituria, in her exile. What had it cost him, keeping his promises to her?
‘You must hate me.’
He should. She had tried to usurp the purple for her son, then tried to kill him when that had failed. She had schemed and lied. She had started a riot that had caused untold destruction, suffering and death. His shoulders slumped.
‘I don’t.’
Soaemias let out a humourless laugh.
‘Are you trying to forgive me?’
Silus shook his head. ‘I’m not Atius. Forgiveness isn’t in my philosophy. I’m just too tired for hate right now. Give me a few days. Maybe I’ll summon up the energy to hate you then.’
This time she seemed genuinely amused.
‘You are an unusual man, aren’t you, Silus?’
‘If you say so.’
There was a moment’s silence, which started to become uncomfortable.
‘I suppose I am now in your debt,’ she said eventually. ‘You hold my life in your hands. You could tell Marcellus what you know and he would have me cut down on the spot.’
Silus said nothing.
‘What do you want from me now?’ she asked, voice loaded with suspicion. ‘Money?’
Silus shook his head.
‘Something else then.’ She pulled down the collar of her gown, exposing one breast.
Silus took a step backwards in surprise. After what he had been through, and after the death of the first woman he had slept with since the loss of his wife, nothing could be further from his mind than sex, and in fact the idea nauseated him.
Soaemias looked insulted at his reaction, but covered herself up again.
‘Not that. Then what?’
‘I want nothing from you, Soaemias. Well, maybe one thing. Something I shouldn’t need to ask of a mother. Look after young Avitus. He is a good lad.’
Soaemias looked chastened. Then she said, ‘Thank you, Silus. Not just for saving me and my son from the flames. But for stopping me. In that moment, everything seemed so clear. I just knew that it was what the Lord Elagabal wanted. Until you spoke.’
‘Certainty is a dangerous state of mind, I always feel,’ said Silus. Then he said, ‘You’re welcome.’
Another pause, then Soaemias said, ‘We depart for Numidia soon. No doubt Marcellus will want the former governor executed. Your job?’
‘No doubt,’ said Silus.
‘And then what for you?’
Then, thought Silus, I am going to go to Lipari. I am going to stay with Tituria, indefinitely, well away from riot and murder and treacherous court politics.
The door burst open and Avitus rushed in. He was wearing an ankle length blue stola, a matching palla draped over his head. A delicate gold chain with a ruby pendant dangled around his neck, and he was clean and wafting a fragrance of delicate rose perfume.
He threw his arms around Soaemias, and hugged her tight, then stood up straight.
‘Silus,’ he said, his voice formal, as befitted the son of an important man, notwithstanding his feminine dress. ‘I wish to thank you for your service.’
‘Think nothing of it, my lord,’ said Silus, with the hint of a smile.
Avitus smiled broadly back at him.
‘Mother, Silus, I have come to a decision.’
They looked at him expectantly.
‘I no longer wish to be the Emperor.’
Silus felt relief wash over him. It was short-lived.
‘I want to be the Empress.’
Epilogue
‘“And thus ends my report. Gaius Sergius Silus, Alexandria.”’
Oclatinius closed the wax diptych and looked up. Caracalla was looking off into the distance. Oclatinius wasn’t sure if Caracalla had really been listening, but he didn’t suppose that mattered. He was sure half of the report was fictional. Soaemias and Gannys in particular had appeared to come out of it with unblemished reputations, when Oclatinius was convinced they were up to their necks in the whole plot. When he got Silus on his own, he would find out the truth.
Festus, who was also present in the Emperor’s chamber, had stayed rigid throughout the reading of the report, face expressionless. Oclatinius had watched carefully for any tells, any ticks or twitches that might have revealed Festus’ inner thoughts, but the Commander of the Sacred Bedchamber remained inscrutable as always.
‘Alexandria,’ said Caracalla wistfully. ‘I want to visit one day. See the city that was founded by the greatest general that ever lived. But first, I must make my own reputation. I will do what all the previous rulers and generals of Rome have failed to do. I will conquer Parthia. Already there is civil war there between the brothers Vologaesus and Artabanus. A war I helped incite when I received their ambassador here.’
‘Yes, Augustus,’ said Oclatinius. ‘But before we can deal with the Parthians, we must secure our own borders. The confederacies of Germanic tribes are growing in number and strength, just as happened in Caledonia. The Alemmani and others in the region between the rivers Albis and Rhenus in particular are a concern
, and I fear that we must confront them soon.’
Caracalla nodded. ‘I am a young man. I have time. We will defeat the German tribes on the Rhenus, and then the Parthians. It is time to start planning. We prepare for war.’
Oclatinius and Festus both bowed their heads sharply in acknowledgement.
‘Should I have Avitus executed?’ asked Caracalla, forcing the topic of conversation into a tight loop back on itself.
Festus spoke first. ‘There is really no need, Augustus. From this report, it sounds like he was just an innocent bystander in the whole enterprise. As were his mother and father.’
‘Nevertheless,’ said Caracalla. ‘He could become a focus of resistance to my rule. Maybe someone else will have the idea of elevating him to the purple. His mother is certainly ambitious enough. What do you think, Oclatinius?’
Oclatinius hesitated and met Festus’ eye. Festus gave the slightest shake of his head. Oclatinius paused a moment longer, mainly out of malice to his old friend.
‘I agree with Festus. The boy and his family seem blameless. And you will find no more loyal a follower than Marcellus. Outside this room, of course.’ He gave a nod to Festus, which he subtly overemphasised. It was lost on Caracalla, but not on Festus. ‘But perhaps they should stay in Numidia for the foreseeable future, once Marcellus has installed himself as governor. It’s far enough from Rome that little trouble should come from there, provided the province remains pacified. Far too from Syria, and supporters of Geta, and much nearer to your own supporters in Africa, who can keep an eye on the situation and step in if necessary.’
Caracalla considered, then nodded assent. ‘It shall be so. The boy can live.’
Festus looked relieved, and gave Oclatinius a half-smile. Caracalla though had drifted off into a reverie. Oclatinius waited for a moment to be dismissed, then said, ‘Shall we take our leave, Augustus?’
Caracalla waved them away airily with one hand. They bowed again, and left the throne room together. Once they were out of earshot of the bodyguards and Praetorians guarding the Emperor, Oclatinius said in a low voice, ‘Aziz was one of yours, wasn’t he?’
‘Do you really expect me to dignify that with a reply?’ asked Festus.
Oclatinius said nothing, and they walked on. Festus let out a sigh.
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘For speaking up for the boy.’
‘Why do you care what happens to the boy? Still have plans for him?’
‘No, no. Not that I ever did, of course. Anyway, that bolt has been shot. He won’t be a figurehead for revolt any time soon.’
‘Well the boy was innocent, and I am quite fond of him, in a way. He is different, and daring to be different is so rare in Rome.’
‘He may also be the Emperor’s son,’ said Festus.
Oclatinius nodded. ‘Maybe one day that will be important. But not while he suns himself in Numidia with his mother and father, forgotten by all.’
Festus looked at Oclatinius, worked his lips as if testing out some words before uttering them, then spoke.
‘Why did you protect me?’
‘You know why.’
‘Still, after all these years?’
‘Still. But don’t push it, Festus. There are limits to my gratitude. My debt to you is not boundless.’
Festus sighed. ‘I feel old.’
‘There is no time for indulgences like that. We have an active young Emperor on the throne, and he wants to be the new Alexander. He will need us in the wars he is embarking on. He can’t win everything he wants by sheer weight of arms. There will be a necessity for… other methods.’
‘The methods in which we excel?’
‘Just so. Maybe, for the first time in a long time, we might pull together, not against each other?’
Festus considered. ‘It would certainly be less effort.’
They reached the palace entrance.
‘I’m going home,’ said Festus.
‘As am I.’
And they turned their backs on each other and walked in opposite directions.
Bibliography and Further Reading
I have consulted too many texts in the research for this novel to list, but some of the principal books I have relied on are listed here:
Bowman, A. K., Garnsey, P. & Cameron, A., (2005) The Cambridge Ancient History: Volume XII, the Crisis of Empire AD 193–337, 2nd edition, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge
Grant, M., (1996) The Severans, the Changed Roman Empire, Routledge, Abingdon
Haas, C., (1997) Alexandria in Late Antiquity, Topography and Social Conflict., The John Hopkins University Press, Baltimore and London
Levick, B., (2007) Julia Domna, Syrian Empress, Routledge, Abingdon
Lindsay, J., (1963) Daily Life in Roman Egypt, Frederick Muller Ltd, London
Lindsay, J., (1965) Leisure and Pleasure in Roman Egypt, Frederick Muller Ltd, London
Lindsay, J., (1968) Men and Gods of the Roman Nile, Frederick Muller Ltd, London
Macleod, R., (2004) The Library of Alexandria, I. B. Tauris & Co Ltd, London
Nixey, C., (2017) The Darkening Age. The Christian Destruction of the Classical World, Macmillan, London
Parson, P.,(2007) City of the Sharp-Nosed Fish, Weidenfeld & Nicolson, London
Pollard, J. & Reid, H., (2006). The Rise and Fall of Alexandria, Birthplace of the Modern World, Penguin, New York
Southern, P., (2001) The Roman Empire from Severus to Constantine, Routledge, Abingdon
Swain, S., Harrison, S. & Elsner, J., (2007) Severan Culture, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge
Sylvänne, I., (2017) Caracalla, A Military Biography, Pen & Sword Military, Barnsley
Historical Notes
Alexandria is one of the most extraordinary cities of ancient times. Founded around 332 BC and named after what many people believe was the most successful general of all time, Alexander the Great, Alexandria was a city of philosophy and learning, a cultural melting pot that spawned philosophers, inventors, politicians and religious authorities, as well as stunning architectural feats, intricate and cunning invented devices and new philosophies and religious denominations. After the death of Alexander the Great, Ptolemy took the Egyptian part of Alexander’s empire for himself, and used its riches and trade to turn Alexandria into, for a while, the largest city in the world. For centuries after the emergence of Rome, it remained the world’s second biggest city. Ptolemy and his dynastic successors successfully promoted Alexandria as an intellectual powerhouse, soon eclipsing its cultural mother city, Athens. Its Great Library hosted such luminaries as Euclid, the father of geometry, Hipparchus, the astronomer, and Eratosthenes, who calculated the circumference of the earth to within less than 0.2 per cent of its actual measurement, and this nearly two hundred years before the birth of Christ. Hero, who lived in Alexandria in the first century AD, besides various contributions to mathematics and physics, also invented a forerunner of the windmill, the first combined steam engine and steam turbine, and the first slot machine, described in this novel, which automatically dispensed holy water.
The Great Library was the ancient world’s internet, with most of the world’s knowledge housed within its walls. The Ptolemies bought and stole manuscripts to fill its shelves. Any ship that docked in Alexandria was searched for books, and those that were found were seized and copied before being returned to their owners. The library and its associated Mouseion were among the major attractions to scholars from around the world.
I have chosen to include the Great Library in my third century Alexandria, despite the uncertainty of the date at which it burnt down. Some blame Julius Caesar for this event, and it is likely that many scrolls were destroyed in the fire that Caesar’s troops set on the docks during the siege of Alexandria in 48 BC. However, some think it may have been a warehouse containing scrolls that burnt rather than the library itself, and it is recorded that around a hundred years later, the Emperor Claudius expanded the library building. A building full of flammable material suc
h as this may have experienced multiple fires, though undoubtedly the scholars that worked there would have been aware of this risk. If the library still existed in the late third century, then this is likely to have been the date of its final destruction, when the Emperor Aurelian fought Zenobia, destroying the quarter in which the library was situated, or possibly a few years later when the Emperor Diocletian laid siege to the city in 297 AD.
Other extraordinary architectural sights would have included the famous lighthouse, an enormous structure nearly four hundred feet high, and ingeniously designed with a mirror that could reflect the sun’s rays out to sea during the day, or the light of a great fire at nighttime. The Serapeum was another wonder, though unlike the lighthouse, not one that made the official list. Situated on a rocky plateau, it dominated the city’s skyline. It was dedicated to the god Serapis, who had been invented or modified by the Ptolemies as a figure around which the Hellenistic city could unite. Serapis was a syncretism between the Egyptian gods Apis and Osiris, but was modified to appear anthropomorphic, in contrast to the commonly seen animal heads of Egyptian gods, in order to appeal to the Greeks of the city. The cult of Serapis survived in Alexandria until the Serapeum was destroyed by a Christian mob in the late fourth century, and Serapis was venerated throughout the Empire, not least by emperors such as Vespasian, Septimius Severus and Caracalla himself.
Alexandria’s population consisted of a volatile mix of ethnicities and religions, and while a similar diversity could be found in Rome, religious and racial conflict seemed to be far more common in Alexandria. Jews, Christians, Greeks, native Egyptians and Romans lived cheek by jowl, and riots were frequent. The Jewish community had been sizeable at one stage in Alexandria, but various rebellions had led to many of them being expelled or murdered, so by the time of this novel, there were few remaining, although no doubt the Jews took the blame for most things that went wrong, as they have throughout history.
St Mark the evangelist is believed to have brought Christianity to Alexandria, and he was martyred in the city. The new religion found fertile ground in the city, and Alexandria became one of the great centres of Christianity in the world. Great Christian thinkers included Clement, Origen and Didymus.
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