Orestes was quite fond of the Promethean idea of restoring light to the city. He had worked for thirteen years to position himself in the government council to provide a voice that would honor the lineage of the Ptolemies and their love of knowledge and truth. Orestes, quick to embrace new ideas, had not considered Prometheus’s fate before he set himself such a high mark, or recalled the time that Alizar had confided to him that there was always something to keep him from relaxing once he returned from a long journey. This evening was to be no exception.
As the party began, Alizar strolled into the gardens looking haggard but cheerful, a corona of lavender on his head in his stylistic manner. As the guest of honor, Alizar had many hands to shake and friends to catch up with. Every so often someone would put a fresh drink in his hand and distract him from the feast for yet another hour. Soon he could hear his stomach growling over the conversation and so he excused himself to follow the tantalizing scent of roasted lamb.
As he strode up to the enormous buffet with its colorful arrangements of cheeses and fresh fruits, Alizar was clapped on the back by Orestes. “Thought I might not even see you this evening!” he laughed, and the men hugged like brothers.
“You have outdone yourself entirely,” Alizar chuckled, popping a fat green olive into his mouth, “and I will never forgive you for it.”
Orestes smiled. He knew how Alizar hated to be made a spectacle of, and so he delighted in watching Alizar squirm through his sea of admirers. Orestes felt that Alizar was too great a man to hide behind such a simple life. He could have been a renowned senator or a general if he had any ambition to leave that tower of his. “Tell me, how is it with the world?”
Alizar looked suddenly grave. “You have not heard in Alexandria?”
Orestes looked unsure. “Heard?”
“Rome has fallen.”
“Rome? Fallen?”
“Orestes, Rome was sacked by the Goths. She is lost.”
“Alaric.”
“Yes, he and his army have succeeded at last.”
“Does Emperor Honorius live?”
“The Goths did not bother with Ravenna. They wanted Rome and they got it.”
“There will be war.”
“No, Honorius is hapless and cowardly. When he was told Rome had been destroyed he thought of his pet chicken Roma and cried out, ‘No, how could it be? She just ate from my hand this morning.’ Apparently, he was immensely relieved to learn of his mistake.”
“The idiot. Dreadful news. What of Alaric and his army?”
“They were sailing for Africa when a storm overtook them. All the ships went down. Alaric is presumed dead, and the Goths have retreated to Gaul, though they have reclaimed Londinium I hear.”
“This will weaken the heart of every Roman in the city.”
“Weaken would be putting it mildly.”
“We best not tell them tonight. I will prepare something. A formal statement must be delivered in the agora.” Orestes downed his wine and dabbed at the sweat now pouring from his brow.
As Alizar stabbed a juicy filet of roasted lamb and hoisted it onto his plate. Rome or no Rome, a man must eat.
Orestes spotted Hannah sitting on a bench beside the Caesarium temple speaking with Synesius. “What do you plan to do with the girl now that you have returned, Alizar?”
“I am not certain.”
“I hear Hypatia wants her here at the library. Popular girl. But you will certainly give me first consideration.”
“At the library?”
“The girl sings like a siren.”
“True. I suppose it would be impossible not to be enchanted by her voice. Her talent is extraordinary.”
Orestes narrowed his eyes. “Have you heard yet of her scuffle in the market with the Parabolani?”
Alizar took a measured pause before continuing to chew. “Tell me.”
“She and Tarek interfered with a public demonstration.”
Alizar gave a heavy sigh. He was all too familiar with Cyril’s barbaric public demonstrations. “They were caught.”
“No, but reported.”
“My house was put on the watch list?”
“Far worse. The Parabolans broke in and Jemir was taken prisoner. They tortured him apparently, but he said nothing. That man would die for you. Hypatia called for me, and I met with the Cyril to see him freed. Do not worry, he is at home recovering, and will be fine. The herbalist went to see him this morning. But you should beat that slave of yours. She is a troublemaker.”
“Damn it all,” Alizar sighed a heavy breath. “I am certain this was Tarek’s doing. I have told that feckless boy time and again to stay out of trouble. Have I been summoned? Are they speaking of trial?”
Orestes chuckled. “I took care of it, old friend. It is done.”
Alizar set down his plate. “You and I both know that this is not the end of it. Tell me, is there any word from Empress Pulcheria about recalling the Parabolani?”
“The Parabolani are not at the top of the imperial list of priorities, I am afraid. I am getting nowhere with the court, and of course, Cyril ever resents my working against him.” Orestes lowered his voice. Typically there could not be a safer place than the library to discuss things, but Cyril’s spies were everywhere. “He is envious of your popularity.”
Alizar picked up on Orestes’ concern and indicated with a nod that they walk the path to the amphitheatre where they could speak more freely. “But how did you manage to get Jemir freed? I will be forever indebted to you for it. He is like a brother to me.”
“Cyril has demanded that I return to the Christian church to worship and publicly renounce any affiliation with Hypatia’s teaching.”
“But you would never agree to such a thing.”
“Agreements can be made and broken. I renounced the Christian church publicly in the square, instead. I also confiscated Cyril’s watch list, which is well-within my grounds to do, and is the reason why you are no longer on it. I would sooner be put on a cross myself than indulge that spoiled jackass and his railings against the beautiful women of our city. I tire of him.” Orestes spat the blasphemous words.
Alizar’s eyes filled with warning. “You have done what? You will create a civil war in our midst if you renounce the church. Cyril’s influence is growing. Whether or not you agree with what he preaches, he must believe you to be an ally. Cyril is not an enemy either of us can afford. I have worked too hard all this time to convince him of my neutrality. You must rescind.”
The two gentlemen settled on the top row of the amphitheatre, overlooking the sea. Alizar adjusted his red klamys over his shoulder.
“I cannot. I have gained the support of the Jews for my decision, and they are more in number in this city than the Christians. Nearly two hundred thousand by last census. They are how I will attain the prefecture. That, and the Emerald Tablet of Hermes Trismagistus.”
Alizar perked up. “The tablet? You know where it is?”
“The Nuapar will disclose its location to me, I am certain.”
Alizar sighed. “Unlikely. They have kept its location secret for nearly seven hundred years.”
“But never has there been a time such as this.”
“I am doubtful, old friend, but perhaps the prefecture will be enough without it. You really think the title is within your grasp?”
“Ah yes, Alizar, our dutiful patience may pay off yet. Anthemius died while you were away. A new praetorian prefect of Egypt is required. I have the nomination already. I need only the Emperor’s support.”
“Anthemius dead? By nature or by poison?”
“What does it matter? His seat must be filled.”
“Brilliant. He was a stone goat anyhow. That could be just the edge we need,” said Alizar, taking a seat on a stone bench as a foppish peacock strolled past them, narrowing its eyes peevishl
y in their direction.
There was silence between them before Alizar spoke. “You know, Orestes, we will not overcome the Christians by force. There are too many of them. It seems our only remaining choice is to blend in. Perhaps you should consider honoring your agreement with Cyril and going back to the church to keep up appearances.”
Orestes scowled and drained his cup of wine, taking up the flagon beside him to refill it. “I have sent a boy to spy within the church. A trusted boy, called Ignus. He will come to us with anything he hears.”
Alizar continued. “A good idea, but not enough. You know as well as I that Cyril is a clever and unpredictable asp.”
“Maybe,” Orestes sneered, “but I am cleverer still.” The lay lines of Orestes’s pride had long ago been deeply etched, and he was the not the kind of man who was wont to shift them, even cosmetically. He changed the subject. “Tell me how your voyage fared, Alizar.”
Alizar’s face fell. “I spent twice the amount on bribes as in years past. The trade routes are infested with Christian soldiers while our new emperor is still wetting his bed.”
“Ah, if only we could have another Julian Apostate.”
“A lovely fantasy. A pagan emperor would be a welcome change from all of this… madness.” Alizar waved his hand through the air and then speared another bite of lamb. When he looked up, it was to see Hannah striding toward them with an offering of wine.
“Good evening, Alizar. Welcome home,” she said as she paused before them with a little bow and presented the wine. “Governor. Hypatia has requested your presence in the Great Hall.”
Both men stood, delighted by her appearance. Orestes clasped the amphora of wine. “Why, Hannah,” said Alizar, embracing her and kissing her cheeks. “It is wonderful to see you looking so well. Come, I want to introduce you to several friends. Orestes, I will see you in an hour. Go easy on the wine, you son of Bacchus.”
For the rest of their lives, those who witnessed the restoration of the lighthouse mirror never forgot where they were the moment the light appeared. Little details remained etched in their minds: the feel of the tortoiseshell buttons on a lover’s cloak, the cry of a hungry baby, the musky scent of the sea as it mingled with the smoke from the torches, the play of shadows on the archways and painted columns.
The angel watched and waited. Soon.
Alizar, like the others, never forgot where he was when the light returned, for it was a moment that would stay with him through the rest of his life, a pillar for his memory to lean upon. He had chosen to return home once the crowd had become tiresome for him. He was greeted by his two red hounds, licking his hands and whining in glee at their master’s return. Alizar swept up the steps, opened the door at the top of the stairs, and carefully lifted Naomi from the bed and brought her to the open window where he sat with her on a divan, tipping her chin in the direction of the beach. “We will watch it together,” he whispered as he kissed the peach fur of her sunken cheek.
He sat with her in the square of the window long enough to watch the crescent moon drop beneath the horizon, leaving the empty bed of the sky with its scattered clouds like rumpled sheets. The lamps from the street cast a pale yellow glow on Naomi’s forehead, nose and narrow chin. He could feel the slender thread of her breath against his throat.
He watched quietly until a magnificent shaft of light split the darkness and shone upon the dark sea. Then it turned toward the beach, making a slow circle to display the brilliance of the beam. Eventually the light crossed Alizar’s bedroom window and fell slantwise across Naomi’s eyelids. Her dark lashes fluttered, and then she stirred. The edges of her lips began to quiver and then turn upward as a little sigh rang in her throat. And then her face softened again, the smile slipping away.
Alizar hugged her to his chest again and again, rocking her on his lap, delighted for this little sign of coherence. They passed hours that way until he heard the footsteps of people returning from the beach in the street below. Then he got up and carried Naomi back to the bed. As he gently pulled the sheet over her chest, he heard voices in the hall. Tarek. Jemir. Hannah. Looking for him.
Hannah knocked gently on the door, calling for him. Alizar left the bedroom and stepped into the bright hall. The instant he saw her face he stopped short. Something was wrong. Her eyes were worried and hollow. She beckoned him to come.
At the bottom of the stairs Jemir was hollering at Tarek. As Alizar rushed down, both men began incomprehensibly waving their hands and shouting. Alizar quieted them and let Jemir explain. According to his story, Orestes had been announcing the performances of the actors in honor of the restoration of the lighthouse when a group of Jews at the front of the stage began to shout that there were agents of Cyril in the audience planning a riot. “Orestes listened to them, Alizar.” The words tumbled off Jemir’s tongue in rapid succession.
Tarek picked up the story. “They denounced Heirax, saying his presence was treason against the government. It was merely a drunken provocation, nothing more. But Orestes listened to them. He had Heirax arrested.”
“Arrested? Cyril’s High Counselor? Are you absolutely certain?” Alizar looked around at their faces, but they were nodding to him that it was true. Alizar was stunned; after they had just discussed doing nothing to further upset Cyril, Orestes had arrested the bishop’s high counselor.
“Yes, certain.” Tarek and Jemir nodded.
“Lock the doors behind me and do not let anyone in under any circumstances.” Alizar spun, grabbed his cloak, and rushed out into the street.
Hannah watched the green door click shut behind him and shuddered, feeling nothing good could possibly come of this.
“You must listen to reason, Orestes.” Alizar found the governor in his home as dawn approached.
“Alizar, I must appease the Jews. This is my election now.” Orestes stood in his silk evening robe and jute slippers and sipped a cup of tea. He held out a cup to Alizar, who shook his head.
“You have the choice to release Heirax.”
“No, he is to be tried tomorrow.”
“Under what charge?”
“Sedition.”
“Heavens, man.”
“Cyril will think twice about dealing with me now. He will see what power government and law still hold over his little church. It is a move I must make given the fall of Rome. I must establish my authority in Alexandria immediately.”
“Have you gone mad? He will retaliate, Orestes. You know Cyril as well as I.”
“Let him retaliate. What can he do?” Orestes was besotted. The party had gone well. The lighthouse was restored. Due to his ever-increasing popularity, Orestes was one election from praetorian prefect and his gleaming reputation had not one mark upon it. All of Egypt was in his hands.
Alizar protested. “He can do plenty.”
“You know I respect you old friend, but this time you are wrong. We have won. With Heirax gone, Cyril will withdraw.”
“Orestes, come to your senses. You must set Heirax free or Cyril will unleash the Parabolani on all of us in the name of the Christian God.”
“This conversation tires me.” Orestes settled in a deep chair on one side of the hearth and gestured to Alizar to take the one beside him, but Alizar chose to stand beside the fire. He picked up a small green malachite sphere to turn in his hands. Rather than continue to discuss what had transpired, Orestes divagated and brought up Hypatia’s latest lecture series on the Enneads, and the discussions that had ensued thereafter, all of which Alizar had missed.
But Alizar kept the conversation on Heirax. “You must not kill him. Put him on the wheel for a day if you must, but let it go at that.”
“Ah, Alizar, you will see in the end I am right.”
“That is what concerns me.” Alizar excused himself to the kitchen and found Phoebe making another pot of tea, her long silver hair plaited over her shoulder, her hazel
eyes bloodshot and fatigued. He spoke quietly. “Phoebe, you must do what only a wife can. Convince Orestes to change his mind.”
Phoebe laughed. “You know him as well as I, Alizar. He was born under the sign of the ram. Once he makes up his mind, there is no changing it.”
The following day, it was announced by Orestes in the agora that Rome had fallen to the Goths. He proclaimed the name of Emperor Honorius as triumphant, and elaborated with the death of the Goth leader Alaric and his army. He finished with the words, “Rome shall rise again!”
Pandemonium broke out in the streets. The people became agitated and restless, eager for a fight.
Some time later, Alizar watched from his tower as Heirax was condemned for sedition and tortured publicly till death on the breaking wheel. His body was stretched on a large wooden cartwheel, and as the wheel was rotated, one by one, Orestes broke his bones with an iron hammer. First a crushing blow to the knee, then the elbow, then the shoulder, then an ankle, both wrists. The crowd was enormously pleased to hear Heirax screaming over the course of the afternoon. They cheered each time the hammer blow came down. Eventually, once Heirax had passed out from the pain, he was eviscerated and, still alive, was left strapped to the cartwheel, which was strung up from a tall column so the crows could eat his entrails.
Cyril wasted no time in calling together the mob and the leaders of the Jewish community to threaten them to stop backing Orestes. He even went so far as to insist that the fall of Rome was brought about by the pagans worshipping the Roman gods. But the Jews, who already resented Cyril’s maneuvering to take over the city, in turn invested all their confidence in Orestes, tithing their support to the governor for strength and protection.
Alizar and the rest of the house watched uneasily as day after day the tension in the city mounted between the Jews and the Christians. He paid countless visits to Orestes and even considered paying one to Cyril if he thought it would do any good. Finally, he had no choice but to sit and watch and wait.
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