Written in the Ashes

by K. Hollan Van Zandt

  “I did not realize you were planning on staying, Alizar, or I would have offered you a chair, but seeing as how you have so rudely interrupted my mourning, and interjected it with your own speeches of grandeur at such a sensitive time, I will have you both imprisoned like the dogs you are. Guards!” Cyril rose.

  Gideon and Alizar pressed the desk, guided by the instincts so honed from years of trained fighting, that Cyril was indeed resting at a point of weakness where, if pushed, he may break. Alizar drew his sword. “I demand you cease your campaigns against both Orestes and Hypatia,” he said. “At once. I want an ordinance of peace drawn up. There shall be no more bloodshed.” Then Alizar set his sword on Cyril’s desk for effect.

  Gideon lifted the chest that concealed the halves of the Emerald Tablet and set it on Cyril’s desk.

  Cyril glanced at the chest and then met Alizar’s eyes.

  “If you cease your Parabolani and accept our proposal of peace, we will sink this chest in the sea and all it contains.”

  “Open it,” said Cyril.

  Gideon opened the chest and withdrew the burgundy linen concealing the twin halves of the Emerald Tablet. He began to unroll the cloth.

  Alizar would not relent. “For every stone you throw one comes back to strike you. Eye for an eye, is it? Surely you see that clearly today. As you know I respect the Christian faith, but do not respect any action that punishes the innocent. Children have died. Women. It is preposterous, and it must end. It can end. Right here. We can draw the treaty together.”

  Alizar grabbed a sheet of Pergamon parchment and set it before Cyril with a stylus just as Gideon finished unrolling the cloth to reveal a wooden doll with nails for eyes and stones for teeth.

  Alizar and Gideon stared at the doll, then at each other, and realized at once that the Emerald Tablet had been stolen.

  “Seize them!” Declared Cyril.

  Five enormous armed guards, priests of Nitria with skin as black as river stones, entered the room and immediately drew their swords.

  Cyril continued, pushing the paper aside. “I would see this city cleansed of sorcery and black magic and traitors against God to make peace for those who live under Christ’s teachings. And you come to me, pull a sword and a wooden doll, and speak of peace? What do you know of peace?”

  “Call off your men, Cyril. My sword is not drawn, and neither is his. The tablet has been stolen from our possession. We had no idea of this.” Alizar nodded to Gideon and they both sheathed their swords.

  Cyril laughed. “You see, Alizar, there is no need for a treaty of peace. God’s will is peace, and I am his instrument.”

  Alizar looked back at Gideon, but as he turned his head, Cyril pulled a dagger from where it was strapped just beneath his desk and thrust it into Alizar’s ribs. Gideon drew his sword and went straight at Cyril, but the Nitrian priests seized him from behind. Alizar gasped for breath, his hand pressing his side where he had been stabbed.

  Cyril wiped his dagger on his robe and set it on the desk. “Your friends will die, Alizar, and you will watch them die, but not by my hand. No. By the hand of their own evil faith. For vengeance is mine, saith the Lord.”

  Fear filled Alizar’s eyes as he felt his folly. It had been useless to come; he had been driven by anger and exhaustion. The bishop had his own indignant convictions. Gideon stood beside his friend, his jaw set, his whole body ready to spring against the guards and turn the room as he knew in a moment he could.

  Cyril clenched his fists and came to stand over Alizar. “I hope you live,” he said. “Because I think you should watch the fate that the prefect Orestes and his whore Hypatia have chosen for themselves from a private little tower where I should have sent you years ago. Take them!”

  32

  Hannah shifted uncomfortably on the cushion before Mother Hathora. It had taken all her strength to come to the island. Jemir and Tarek had stayed behind to build the funeral pyre for Leitah. The funeral ceremony would take place as soon as she returned. Precious Leitah. Alizar had been right; there had been a third death in the end, a death no one had expected.

  Hannah’s face was drawn, dark half moons beneath her eyes unable to conceal her exhaustion, and then her disappointment. “You mean to say that the order of the Nuapar would only have interest in a male child? If I bore a daughter they would not even raise a brow?”

  Mother Hathora nodded. “A girl would not come under their protection, but she would be welcome here, of course. It is something I have always wished to change in the Great Book.”

  Hannah felt a fire bloom in her veins. “Perhaps now would be an ideal time to consider it.”

  Mother Hathora took a sip of coffee. “Ancient traditions have deep roots. The Great Book was written by the First Master.”

  Hannah shook her head. “But if this child within me is a girl, then I should like to see her write her own philosophies and mathematical formulas, and claim her own spiritual path, equal to any man’s.”

  Mother Hathora smiled. “He was right to choose you. I knew he would, you know. The Goddess invests her power in certain women. I do not know why some and not others. She invests in them her greatest strength: the ability to awaken others to truth.”

  “So unless I have a boy, there was no sense in my journey here?”

  Mother Hathora sighed. “I apologize, Hannah. But I am thankful that you came, and I know this child within you has a special destiny regardless. I have no doubt.”

  Hannah seemed content with this and smiled, a simple smile that lifted a great burden in her heart. Would her father even recognize her? Hannah of Sinai, daughter of Kaleb the Jew. She was changed through and through.

  It was dark when Hannah returned to Alizar’s, deeply fatigued from the journey to Pharos. Sofia met her in the atrium on the other side of the little green door wringing her hands, her eyes red and puffy, her face streaked with tears, her hair a tangled mess.

  Hannah was struck through with fear. “Oh sister, speak, what is it?”

  Sofia began to cry. Behind her, Gideon appeared in the doorway, out of breath.

  Hannah gasped, knowing in her bones what had happened. “No. No. Where is Alizar?”

  Gideon nodded. “They have him,” he said solemnly. “And the Emerald Tablet has been stolen.”

  “Oh, Gideon, say it is not so!” Hannah’s hands dropped to the window ledge behind her to steady her body, and then she found the arm of a small bench with her fingers and lowered herself onto the cushion. Sofia took her fingers.

  “We have very little time, Hannah. I narrowly escaped Cyril’s men, and I expect this is the first place they will come.” Gideon stood in the room, panting, the blue veins in his temples throbbing visibly.

  “But the chest containing the tablet has not been out of our hands, even for an hour. What could have happened?”

  “I opened it myself, and it contained merely a wooden doll. Our plea for peace was met with Alizar’s imprisonment. We cannot concern ourselves with these things now. Pack what you need.”

  “They will come,” whispered Sofia. “We have very little time.”

  Tarek appeared at the door scratching the back of his head like a nervous monkey. “The barge is ready downstairs.”

  Gideon nodded to Tarek and then went upstairs with Hannah and grabbed several articles of clothing and stuffed them into a black leather satchel at his feet. “Hannah, are you well enough?”

  “I shall have to be,” she said, and her hand brushed the necklace with the shard of the Emerald Tablet resting between her breasts.

  Gideon grabbed his cloak from behind the door with one hand, then lent the other to Hannah for support. Downstairs, Jemir met them outside the kitchen. “Lock up the house, Jemir, and admit no one. Set guards around the premises if necessary. And hide yourself in Alizar’s tower. Once they discover I am not here, they will depart.”

&n
bsp; “But we cannot just leave Leitah,” said Hannah. “It is time for her funeral.”

  Jemir winked at her. “I will see to it. I must stay so they do not burn the house. Speak your prayers to God. Leitah will hear them.”

  Hannah wiped her tears with her fingertips and turned to Gideon. “I told you not to go. What good could possibly come in going to see the bishop?”

  But just then, voices erupted, strong and harsh, beyond the walls of the courtyard.

  “Come!” Gideon took Hannah’s hand as a commotion began in the street outside the house. “Jemir, lock every door! Let no one enter here,” he said.

  Tarek slid the key out from under his tunica and fiddled with the lock to the entrance to the catacombs as a loud bang fell on the front door, followed by another.

  “Hurry, Tarek,” whispered Hannah, taking Sofia’s hand.

  The lock sprung under Tarek’s hand and they rushed down the stairs as Jemir shut the door from the inside and re-hinged the lock. Immediately, the Parabolans at the front door burst through with their cudgels raised, and Jemir fled up the stairs.

  Gideon helped Hannah down the steps one at a time and spoke in rapid whispers, explaining what had happened.

  “But Alizar,” said Hannah, the deep concern burning in her eyes.

  “I know,” said Gideon. “I will get him out, or we will find another way.”

  “Why would Cyril imprison him?” asked Tarek, hopping onto the barge behind Sofia and steadying it with his pole. Something in Tarek’s tone Hannah found suspicious.

  Gideon settled Hannah in the front and sat in the rear with Tarek as Sofia untied the ropes and they shoved off. “Cyril found the manuscripts he was copying. He declared it an act of treason, but I fully expect the city’s council will free him, especially after what happened to Orestes.”

  When they arrived at the Great Library, Tarek turned back to Alizar’s to help Jemir while Hannah, Sofia and Gideon continued on together. They found Hypatia strolling through the garden, having just come from where Orestes lay in the medical ward. She looked upset.

  “What is it, Great Lady?” asked Gideon.

  Hypatia shook her head. “Clearly you have news. Tell me. Then I will share with you mine.”

  “Alizar has been imprisoned in the tower of the church of St. Alexander.”

  “But why, Gideon? Why would he go to see Cyril when he knew no good could possibly come of it?” Hypatia began to cry. She sat on a bench and put her face in her hands.

  Gideon stood as still as a soldier. “To make peace.”

  Hypatia shook her head, not even listening. “Phoebe took her life today.”

  Hannah inhaled sharply. “How?”

  “She hung herself.” Hypatia dabbed at her eyes with the hem of her white robe. “Orestes is near death. She could not bear to watch him die.”

  “You will be next if you do not listen to me,” said Gideon.

  “I am not in danger as long as I live in the library. And if I die in the name of defending the truth, so be it. I know Alizar was angry over what happened to Orestes, but it is unlike him to come so unraveled.”

  “He wanted to speak his mind before Cyril to prevent further unrest.” By further unrest he meant violence against Hypatia, but he could not bring himself to say it.

  “As do I,” said Hypatia, her face splitting with new pain. “But I do not dangle the meat in front of the tiger.”

  “We brought the Emerald Tablet with us,” said Gideon. “Hannah’s quests were successful in Delfi and in Siwa and we were able to procure the second half of the tablet from the tomb of the pharaoh Amen-hotep.”

  “You managed to find the tablet? This is excellent news. Why did Alizar not tell me of this when he first came to see me?”

  Hannah shook her head. “He heard of what happened to Orestes and must have been waiting for a better moment to tell you. But this is not all.”

  “No. The tablet was stolen from us,” said Gideon.

  “It does not matter then,” said Hypatia. “It cannot help us now.”

  “But who would do such a thing?” said Hannah. “What agent of Cyril’s could possibly have known we had the tablet? I did not speak of it to anyone.”

  “Cyril’s spies are prolific,” said Hypatia. “He has ears in every wall.”

  Sofia helped Hypatia to her feet, and they all walked together along the path with its little footbridges over the reflecting pools guarded by enormous sphinxes, until finally they stood beside the crypt of Cleopatra. Creeping vines covered it completely so that the door was no longer visible.

  “The Parabolani can be easily overtaken by the Nuapar,” said Gideon. “I know we could get him out.”

  Hypatia shook her head. “No. We do not need more of you in prison. Oh Goddess, if only Orestes was well. At this moment we need his seniority in the council. No. I will have to appeal to the senate and see if we can get him pardoned. If not by them, then by the empress herself. Alizar’s vineyard provides the wine for the royal palaces at Constantinople, and if what has happened here might affect the quality of the grape in their cups, I am certain it can be made a priority.” Hypatia looked to Hannah and Gideon. “You look fatigued. Come with me and we will find you a room here in the library, both of you, until this passes. The library is perfectly safe, as the Main Gates are kept locked and guarded by Nuapar monks at all times. No one can breach these high walls. You made the right decision coming here.”

  Gideon bowed his head. “With all due respect, Great Lady, there is not time. I will go to Pharos and speak with Master Savitur. He will know what we can do. Please care for Hannah until I return.” Then Gideon turned to Hannah. “Stay here in the library where you will be safe, and do not go beyond these walls. Get some rest.”

  Hannah shook her head. “I am going with you.”

  Gideon shook his head. “Out of the question.”

  Hypatia too, looked Hannah up and down and said, “You should rest.”

  Sofia nodded in agreement. “Come stay with me in my room.”

  Hannah lifted her chin to Gideon. “I am going with you,” she said.

  Gideon placed a hand on her shoulder. “There will be a better time, Hannah. Not now. Stay here in the library and I will return.” He set the bags at her feet, kissed her lips, and walked swiftly down the path toward the harbor.

  Hypatia and Sofia each took Hannah’s elbows. “Come,” said Hypatia.

  Hannah looked into Hypatia’s eyes, so full of concern. The determination constricting Hannah’s bones simply unknotted and let go. She watched Gideon slip out of sight behind the obelisk, and bowed her head.

  “I will have our Alizar back in time for spring planting,” said Hypatia, summoning a slave to take the bags. “Do not worry for him, Hannah. Rest here and gather your strength. The Great Library is your home now.”

  Part iii.

  The Great Library

  (415 C.E.)

  33

  Alizar sat upon a flat grey stone in the floor, his elbows folded across his bent knees, head down, shoulders burdened with regret. A shaft of light from the window fell across his back where his tunica was torn, and an empty wooden bowl sat beside him, cracked through the center like a ripe melon split open in the sun. These were all the room contained, and had contained, for more days than he could count.

  From time to time he stood, walked the five paces to the window, looked out, and then walked the five paces back to the stone where he always sat. So many emotions had moved through him, so much pain and sorrow, yet gradually, it had all emptied into stillness, dreary and vast as a winter sky in his heart.

  During the first week of his imprisonment, even in spite of his painful wound, Alizar was hopeful, knowing that Hypatia would enter an appeal with the council. He simply waited and hoped. But the full moon had dimmed countless times. His wound healed badly, leaving h
im with a wheeze that never went away. Bowls of bread and grain or hot fuul had been slipped through the small hole in his door once a day, and then removed. No guards came to see about him. In fact, there were no visitors at all.

  Hope became rage. Alizar stormed the tower, screaming profanities out the narrow windows to the world below him. Occasionally someone would look up, then go back to the chore at hand. His fury was fully unleashed for every injustice he had witnessed at the hands of the bishop, from the exile of the Jews and Orestes’s injuries, to his imprisonment. But he had grown tired of the shouting after several weeks, and fell silent. His thoughts of revenge gradually faded, as he knew where revenge led, always to more violence, which inevitably always came back to the vengeful.

  Grief followed. For a time Alizar did not stand or stretch, or even lift his head. He missed Sofia, and longed to hear of her life and the years he had missed. And he wanted to know of Orestes, learn the hour when his friend had died, and what words had been spoken at the funeral service. What flowers had been chosen to wreath the dais? What poem? And his business, the vines, so many shipments…could his servants manage them alone for so long? There was no use in wanting to know. He would not know. So.

  Alizar came to accept the ignominy and ceased hoping.

  Some years into his imprisonment in the tower, a line of large black ants found their way in from a hole in the floor where he was expected to defecate. He awoke in the night to the sensation of being bitten in every spot imaginable, his eyelids, scrotum, belly and neck all aflame from the little welts. So the next morning, he waged war on the ants, killing them as they arose from the stench pit, smashing them with the heel of his palm. But at night when he slept, they returned to sting his lips, his ears, his thighs.

  After two weeks of war with the ants, Alizar sat and meditated on his actions. Here they were sharing a world, albeit a small stone one, and he was attacking them, and so they were returning his zealous crusades with their own deft retaliation. In some ways, the ants reminded him of the rampaging thoughts in his mind that he could not control, each of which stung his pride, or his heart, or his hope. When he blamed Cyril, he became sullen and withdrawn. When he blamed himself, he felt the same effect on his psyche. If he fell into self-pity and remorse, his spirits dropped, and his heart burned and troubled him endlessly after he ate.