Written in the Ashes

by K. Hollan Van Zandt

  In between the winding narrow passageways, on every doorstep stood or sat several rough-looking women, once objects of beauty, their hair tangled and matted, their elegant clothing torn and soiled, their eyes hollow as holes in the ground. Some smoked. Others spat. Most just hunkered, keeping out of the rain. Seeing Hypatia and Hannah in fine clean clothes, a few of them called out rudely. Hypatia dropped her head and quickened her steps while Hannah allowed herself to glance at the broken women, the unwanted ones who had to leave the brothels because they had grown too old, too unkempt, or been injured by some rough sailor. Synesius had taught her that long ago the prostitutes had held a respected place in the temples of Greece, in a time before the brothels. They were needed to soften the soldiers of war, re-integrating them into society. They served the Goddess called by many names, She who was the Mistress of Heaven, Earth and Sea. The women of the temples were worshipped then. What would happen to them now?

  Around the last corner, Hypatia looked up to find herself standing eye to eye with a shrunken woman who was about her own age, once a celebrated courtesan, though she looked infinitely older. Her scarred fingers curled around an amphora of wine; her eyes were encircled by dark blue rings of impoverished sleep. When she saw Hypatia, she stared remorselessly.

  Hypatia froze.

  The two women locked eyes and neither looked away.

  In the gaze of the whore, Hypatia could not move. She felt the hardened eyes staring straight through her soul as if to say, I know what you have done.

  Hypatia tried to swallow, to look away, but she could not.

  “Come, Hypatia.” Hannah took Hypatia’s arm. “Come.”

  Slowly, Hypatia turned, though she kept glancing back to see the steely eyes of the whore still fixed upon her as if condemning her to death. Hypatia shuddered and quickly turned the corner with Hannah, who stopped and took her friend by the shoulders. “You must let it go,” she said firmly. “Had you not killed him, he might have robbed and killed us all. What you did was entirely just.”

  Hypatia met Hannah’s eyes with her own. “It has stained my soul,” she whispered.

  Hannah shook her head. “Your soul could never be tainted by justice.”

  Hypatia nodded, her eyes far away. No words could dispel what she already knew, the dark fate she had sealed for herself.

  They found the front gate of the apothecary on the next street, which opened into a pristine courtyard where a statue was surrounded by moss and vines. “I will go in and talk to him,” said Hannah, touching Hypatia’s shoulder. “Wait here.”

  Hypatia nodded, and then slowly circled the puddled courtyard. She stared at her feet without seeing anything, the hateful dark eyes of the prostitute staring up at her from the ground. Murderer, said the eyes. Murderer.

  When Hypatia lifted her gaze, she was standing directly before the statue at the center of the herbalist’s garden. It was the Virgin Mary, her arms open at her sides in acceptance and love, her expression full of compassion.

  In that instant, Hypatia had a vision, a vision that consumed her like a divine fire. As she looked up at the statue, it became eclipsed by the image of Mother Mary herself, an aura of light around her, her arms outstretched in devotion, in an offering of love. So much love. It wove threads of light through Hypatia’s darkness. Tears slid down Hypatia’s cheeks. In that moment, Hypatia understood that she was looking not at the mother of a baby boy named Jesus, but at the mother of Christ, son of God, whose mother is the eternal Mother of the World.

  So here then shone Mary, virgin, untainted heart of radiance, eternally pure in body and soul. And she leaned down and placed her hand on the crown of Hypatia’s head.

  Hypatia began to weep, and threw herself down to kiss the holy virgin’s feet.

  26

  To welcome the travelers home and celebrate the return of his daughter to Alexandria, Alizar requested Jemir prepare a feast in the courtyard. They sat together in the torchlight on the cushioned divans beneath the sprawling fig tree that had seen so many occasions come and go, toasting to the beauty of the evening; nothing could have pleased Alizar more than to have his daughter home, and her so ebullient. Synesius and Sofia sat opposite Alizar discussing Synesius’s latest book on dog breeding. Gideon had not yet arrived. Tarek swept in from the stables toting a young coquette who seemed enamored of his style, pausing to chat with Philemon. Governor Orestes and his wife, Phoebe, stood beside the fountain in deep discussion with several of the library’s magistrates. Hypatia had declined the invitation with apologies, as her work had need of her.

  Tarek and his scantily clad guest settled in across from Hannah, joined by Phoebe and Orestes. Hannah felt a cold ripple of disgust at the sight of Tarek. She looked away, adjusting the straps of her khiton. She knew he would be no trouble in Alizar’s presence, but still she wished he had busied himself elsewhere.

  “Hannah? Do tell us of your travels. Was Hypatia well received in the library at Athens?” asked Phoebe, her green eyes thrown open in a perpetual expression of surprise. “We are all relieved you returned safely.”

  “Indeed, yes. Quite.” Even as Hannah acknowledged the good fortune of a safe return to Egypt, she dreaded the desert before her, another dangerous leg of her quest. She knew then that she was equally bound. Bound to her destiny. Bound upon her quest. Hers was a life of slavery. If only the child did not have to be born into those chains.

  So.

  “Where is Gideon?” asked Alizar.

  Tarek interjected before anyone could reply, tearing a piece of chicken from the bone with his teeth. “What of him?”

  As though hearing his name, Gideon strode up, settling onto the bench beside Hannah, his dark eyes lit like some kind of predator as he smiled broadly at Tarek, his white teeth flashing. “Good evening,” he said.

  “Where is the lovely maiden you had with you at our last party, Gideon?” Tarek asked.

  Gideon chuckled. “I cannot remember, Tarek. But clearly you have found yourself an adoring muse.” Gideon nodded to the girl who was dragging her curls through the cup of wine she was sipping.

  The girl and the rest of the guests seated on the couches of the triclinium found this amusing and laughter sparked in a circle.

  As the dinner wore on, Jemir watched Hannah out of the corner of his eye with concern as she nudged the food around her plate but none of it toward her mouth. In truth, the pungent scents of the meal had completely overwhelmed her and extinguished her appetite. She fingered the raised grape pattern on her rython nervously, thinking of the half of the Emerald Tablet in its wooden chest she had concealed in her bed in the stables. Either the pregnancy or the tablet had begun to influence her dreams, and she tossed and turned at night, unable to shake their torpor. She often shape-shifted into animals. A hawk, a deer, a lizard, a snake, a turtle in the deep sea. Upon awakening she would throw back the sheets to see her human legs and sigh in relief. Even split in half, the tablet’s magic was in no way dim.

  Gideon took another swig of wine and concluded a joke he had been building as more laughter shook the table. He loved a feast.

  Alizar and Gideon went on with their animated discussion as Hannah watched them. Though she was distracted by her own emotions, she could not help but notice this was the first time she had seen Alizar happy since Naomi had passed away, and it brought her comfort to see him so. Sofia’s arrival had brought him back to life, and this meant a great deal to Hannah, as the love she had felt for her father lived on in the love she felt for Alizar.

  “Synesius, what is this dreadful rumor we hear of you leaving us for Cyrene?” asked Alizar.

  “Only eventually, brother. I am to be ordained as a bishop first, and then I shall make my way there.” Synesius smiled and folded his hands in his lap. “I shall miss Hypatia, but we will write. She promises to keep me abreast of her teaching.”

  “This is tremendous news,” said
Alizar. “We will all feel your absence, especially Hypatia, I am sure. Why this sudden change of heart?”

  “The best influence is had from within. Though I remain a gnostic, I feel perhaps as a bishop I might bring the church temperance. To teach as Jesus taught, with humility. I can only hope my presence in the orthodox church will sway them toward more civilized means of sharing the word of Christ.”

  Gideon nodded. “It is a noble undertaking, Sy. I wish you well.”

  “Here, here.” Words came from around the table as cups lifted.

  “Cyrene?” asked Sofia, her eyes aglow. “But how soon?”

  “Oh, in several years time,” said Synesius. “The clergy moves quite slowly with these things.”

  “Is Cyrene anywhere near Siwa?” asked Hannah, recognizing the opportunity to inquire after information that may serve her quest.

  Tarek was delighted to interject an explanation for her, as he believed it would demonstrate his intelligence, an attribute he would expect her to praise regularly once they married, for this was his newest aim laying eyes on Hannah again. “Siwa is where the Oracle of Amun-Ra gave Alexander the Great the knowledge of his lineage as the son of Zeus. Most think that Alexander found the Emerald Tablet there in the tomb of Hermes. The oasis lies deep in the southern desert. Men that have gone in search of it, well, most have never come back. It is said that Cleopatra took the secret of its whereabouts to her grave.” Seeing he had Hannah’s attention, Tarek grinned widely in showmanship, pausing for effect. “Cyrene, however, is on the coast just five days by sea west of here. The current moves in our favor for travel.”

  “A Christian city supposedly cleansed of heretics. But who will your friends be, Synesius, the sparrows?” said Alizar. Laughter crowned the table.

  Gideon speared a piece of chicken off Tarek’s plate and gulped it down, then he winked at Hannah. “I do hope we might have the pleasure of your voice this evening, Nightingale.”

  Tarek sneered, unable to protest both Gideon’s interest in Hannah, and his little slight.

  “Certainly, if it pleases Alizar and our other company.” Hannah nodded politely.

  Jemir gazed at her plate with the paling disappointment only a cook is capable of. “You must eat something, Kukla. Some bread, Hannah. Here.” He tore a piece of flatbread, slathered it generously in olive paste and anchovies and set it on her plate, but as soon as the scent of the fish reached her nose, Hannah’s eyes grew wide and she stood up abruptly, apologized to Jemir, and walked inside.

  Gideon followed her with his eyes, concerned.

  Jemir left the table behind her to fetch the second course and found Hannah in the kitchen. He waved a drumstick at her and pushed it into her hands. “I am going to stand here until I see that go into your stomach.”

  Hannah let out a little laugh and nibbled on the meat. “I am sorry, Jemir, I have some thoughts that have not settled since the voyage.”

  “Well, you need food to think.” Jemir set down a handful of empty platters and began to bustle around the kitchen. Then he paused. “I know. You should go and have a warm bath before coming down and singing for us. It will make you feel better.”

  Hannah smiled. “A lovely suggestion, Jemir, thank you.” She rose and kissed his cheek.

  There were only a handful of homes in Alexandria wealthy enough at that time to have their own private baths. Everyone else went weekly to the public baths, most of which were scandalous scenes of incessant gossip, secret trysts, political bribery and prostitution. Of course, certain bathhouses had reputations for being more of one variety than another. Some were frequented only by politicians while others boasted amenities for sailors. Others charged admission so that only the rich could afford them. There were nearly fifty bathhouses in Alexandria, which was a relatively small number compared to Antioch, a city that boasted over three hundred.

  The bathing chamber in Alizar’s home was a large stone-tiled room with a sunken tub in the floor that was filled with water from an enormous wood-heated pot in the kitchen. Hannah entered the bathroom and re-latched the door. The bath was a modern convenience Hannah relished, one she had never known growing up in the desert but had come swiftly to appreciate.

  Hannah pulled a carved ivory handle at the edge of the tub attached to a string and hot water spilled through the slues into the tub. She watched as it filled, and stirred the steaming water in circles with her foot as the level rose. Once she had undressed and slipped into the water, Hannah let out a long sigh. Alizar’s bath was a place no troubles in the world could reach. The swirling steam covered everything in a misty white veil, a magical boundary that kept out all the world.

  Hannah dipped her hand into a jar of crumbled soap powder and smoothed it over her shoulders, belly, and feet. Then she dunked herself in the tub and came up again to draw red henna through her hair before plaiting it into one long braid that hung down her back. Once clean, she let her body go limp to bask in the warm water, and brought her hands to her abdomen, which was only just beginning to rise ever so slightly. If she was really to go to the Oracle of Amun-Ra, she knew she must leave soon. But how?

  She had listened to what Tarek said of Siwa, a place so deep in the desert that men who tried to find it never returned. It seemed unlikely she would find a caravan traveling there, much less convince them to take her along.

  Her fingertips brushed her belly. Would it be a boy or a girl, she wondered. If it was a boy she would call him Kaleb after her father. If it was a girl? She was not sure. The name had to be beautiful, and have some kind of meaning.

  Within her womb, the angel slept.

  Hannah cleaned her teeth and then climbed out and wrapped herself in a towel. Singing for the feast would be a wonderful distraction. She dried herself off and applied a dab of amber resin behind each ear and donned a clean sleeveless himation of light linen in a pale blue with a border of repeating Greek key design. Then she went down to the sitting room just off the stairs where everyone had gathered to hear her music.

  When she had settled on a cushion, Jemir brought her the lyre Hypatia had given her as a gift. Hannah touched her lips to the cool smooth wood, and then ran her fingers over the strings to check their tune. She made several adjustments, and when she was satisfied, turned her attention to her audience. Gideon sat close enough to nudge her lyre with his knee if he chose.

  “This is a gypsy song I learned as a child while spying on their fires,” she said, and her heart felt light again even playing the first several notes. Hannah began to sing the happy song, smiling at Sofia and Alizar. Synesius clapped his hands while Phoebe and Orestes stood up to dance, and seeing this, Gideon picked up a doumbek and began to slap out a rhythm with practiced ease.

  Hannah smiled at him and his talent, and went on playing the playful melody as she sang and smiled at everyone. When it ended they each bowed to her and clapped in appreciation.

  “Oh, let us have another!” said Sofia.

  “Very well,” said Hannah. She sang many more songs that evening, well into the night, as her audience was unwilling to let her conclude. Hannah played song after song, finding that there was immense happiness in that night, more than any she had known since her father’s death. Eventually she just let herself be swept away by the music, and the festivity of Sofia’s return, and Alizar’s joy in it.

  So.

  The party went on until birds could be heard twittering in the trees. Hannah stood at the door and enfolded Sofia in her arms. “I am so happy to know you,” she whispered, and kissed Sofia’s cheeks.

  “Hannah, speak to my father. He will help you,” whispered Sofia as she kissed Hannah’s cheeks in return. Hannah nodded, and then Synesius took Sofia’s arm and led her into the street.

  Hannah felt her eyelids getting heavy now that the music had left her and so she turned back into the house with a yawn. Her thoughts were trained on the bed laid out for her in th
e warm stable straw when a strong hand caught her elbow.

  “Hannah,” said Gideon, letting go her arm. He was standing so close that she felt his breath on her lips.

  She smiled at him. He had been so wise to follow her to Delfi from Athens. She felt thankful.

  His dark eyes found hers, searching her face, and then he opened his mouth as if he had more to say.

  She dropped her gaze.

  “Thank you for the music,” he said.

  “Indeed,” said Hannah. “It was a wonderful party.”

  Gideon smiled as if he had a secret. “Goodnight, goddess.” Then he strode down the street toward the harbor.

  Hannah shut the door and swept through the atrium toward the kitchen and the stables beyond, her poise undiminished even in fatigue.

  “Hannah?” Alizar stepped before her from the lower hall.

  Hannah stopped, the smile Gideon’s kiss had brought still pressed to her lips. “Yes, Alizar?”

  “I should like to see you in my study.”

  Creases appeared in her brow. “Immediately?”

  Alizar shook his head. “Tomorrow. Get some sleep. Come in the afternoon. There is much to discuss. Bring the tablet with you.”

  Hannah nodded.

  She left the hall and went out to the stables, where she passed several hours beside the Emerald Tablet unable to sleep, then slipped in and out of dreams that were neither real nor unreal, but in some ways even more full of feeling than she had ever known in life. She became a boar being chased on the hunt, then transformed into a horse, trying to outrun the same predator that was gaining on her. She darted this way and that but there was no shaking him; she was attacked with a roar, the predator’s claws raking her skin. She awoke with a jolt, breathless, and pulled her shift around her body and went to splash water from the fountain on her face. Then she went straight to Alizar’s study without delay.

  He was still in his morning robe although it was now early afternoon. He was enjoying a bowl of hashish. “My dear,” he began. “Have you brought with you the tablet?”