Selene of Alexandria

by Justice, Faith L.

  Chapter 2

  "Selene!" Antonius yelled. When she stood rooted to the spot, he grabbed her arm, sprinted toward the church and yanked her onto the steps. She stumbled against the wide marble slabs, banging her shins and yelping in pain. "Are you trying to get your head bashed in? Those men are dangerous!"

  Antonius' face was pale except for two hectic red spots high on his cheekbones. Was he angry? Frightened? She would have stepped out of the way in another moment. There had been no need for him to treat her so roughly.

  She shook off his hands in a pique and reached down to rub her shins. "The only wounds I have sustained today are those you gave me. First you force me to kneel on sharp rocks, and crack my rib with your elbow. Now you practically pull my arm out of its socket and cause me to scrape my shins. May the Good Lord save me from your protection!"

  "Why you ungrateful, stubborn, donkey-headed…" Antonius paused, grasping for words. "…child! See if I save your precious hide again. Let your brother do it. That's his job, not mine."

  His unkind words stung, probably because they were close to the mark, but Selene felt wronged by his attack. She yelled back, "I don't need either of you to protect me. I can..."

  The shouts of the armed men drowned out her final words. They boiled by the steps then halted to insult the vastly outnumbered gate guards. One guard, pale face sweating under his helmet, stayed close to his post and looked as if he would bolt for the guardhouse any moment. The second man, older, maintained a cooler head. "It's a feast day, good brothers. I'm sure your patron, the Patriarch, would not like to hear of disturbance by his chosen ones. Go about your business and leave the travelers in peace." The guard's friendly smile and affable manner disarmed the unruly men who, finding no fight, drifted off in another direction.

  "Let's go home." Nicaeus grabbed Selene's arm and escorted her firmly down the steps to a side street. Antonius sulked behind.

  "Who are those men?" Selene asked her brother. "Where do they come from?"

  "They're Patriarch Theophilus' parabolans, his personal body guard. He recruits them from the hospital guild. Only the strong of back and light of purse will work lifting the sick and carrying the dead. The Patriarch offers them good money and the protection of the church if they become too zealous in their protection of him."

  Selene craned her neck to look back at the parabolans. "I don't see the Patriarch. Why would his bodyguard patrol the streets? That's the city guards' duty."

  She observed the two boys exchanging glances over her head. Her anger flared anew. She shook off her brother's hand and stamped her foot. "I'm not a child to be cosseted and protected. What do you know of this?"

  Nicaeus sighed. "Patriarch Theophilus is building a private army in the city. Father believes he wants to suppress the Novatian Christians. The council fears riots if he attempts to purge the city of rival Christian sects."

  Selene, at first irritated that she had been kept unaware of these developments, sobered. She was not yet born when the Patriarch had suppressed the last public vestige of the pagan cults. After murderous rioting on both sides, he closed the Great Temple of Serapis and reconsecrated it as the new Episcopal residence. Her father said smoke had fouled the air for days as the Christians burned the tens of thousands of books housed in the public library there. When she questioned the tears in his eyes, he explained they were irritated and would talk no more about it.

  She took him at his word. Her father was a good Christian. Why should he mourn the passing of the last pagan temple?

  "The parabolans are most diligent in their policing," Antonius added. "Some student friends of mine came home with cracked heads when the Patriarch's men caught them drunk outside a tavern. Their fathers protested the treatment, but the deacons quoted scripture and admonished the men to keep their sons under better control." He rubbed the back of his head as if in sympathy for his friends' pain.

  Selene, remembering him complain of a sore head just two days ago, asked, "How are your 'friends' doing now?"

  Antonius had the decency to blush. "They are on the mend." He looked ahead. "I see no meddling parabolans in our path. We should hurry." He grabbed Selene's elbow and the two boys hurried her toward home. Noting the angle of the sun, she did not protest their haste.

  Selene and Nicaeus entered their father's home bickering. "Please, Nicaeus, I need longer to prepare. Let me have the baths first?" She looked at her dusty feet, sniffed her armpit and wailed, "I stink as bad as the holy hermit!"

  He seemed to relish her minor tragedy. "I'm sorry, little sister, but I'm older and have precedence. You'll just have to wait your turn."

  "But there won't be enough time!"

  "Remember that the next time you beat me at a race," he teased.

  She flounced off to her room with his laughter echoing in the stone halls. Her room was tucked away on the second floor in a warren of small private bedrooms. She opened the door, threw herself on the bed and planned a number of petty revenges on her selfish brother. Perhaps a purgative in his soup? A knock at the bottom of her door interrupted her plotting.

  "Enter!" Rebecca, her personal servant, backed through with a basket of clothes balanced on her head and a pitcher of water in her arms. Although but two years older than Selene, Rebecca had the composure and easy confidence of a much older woman. She had been Selene's primary teacher in how to run the household. Selene jumped to help, taking the pitcher and placing it on a small table next to a wash bowl and sponge.

  "Rebecca, you are an angel in disguise. Whatever would I do without you?"

  Rebecca looked at her disheveled state and pursed her full lips in a moue of distaste. "We haven't much time to get you decent, Mistress. First we wash off that dust, next arrange your hair, and then fresh robes." She grabbed Selene's hands and clucked over the bitten nails. "I don't know if we can soak out that grime, but I can at least smooth those ragged edges."

  Selene stripped and kicked her dirty garments to a corner while Rebecca poured warm water into the wash bowl and laid a thick reed mat on the stone floor. Selene closed her eyes and sighed as Rebecca gently sponged the dust away, wrapped her in a linen towel and started to comb her tangled hair. "Rebecca, what's the gossip about our new Prefect?"

  "My friends say their masters are apprehensive. He is unknown. They speculate on whom he will support in the disputes among the Christians, much less the other factions. He is also unmarried and there is much talk about which of the local maidens might be a suitable match." She stopped to separate a particularly bad tangle. "Selene, what do you do to your hair, let birds make nests in it?"

  "Ouch! If you can't be more careful, I'll comb my own hair." Selene reached up to grab the tortoise shell comb from Rebecca. The servant girl slapped her hands away.

  Rebecca took a blue glass bottle from a pouch tied to her belt and poured the contents into a shallow bowl. "Here. If you need something to do with your hands, soak them in this oil."

  Selene obediently put her fingertips in the bowl. The oil smelled faintly of roses. "Where was the Prefect posted before Alexandria?"

  Rebecca finished combing and started to smooth Selene's nails with a flexible piece of horn. "He served in the army, but left to take provincial posts. For the past several years he has served in the Emperor's court under the sponsorship of Anthemius, the Regent."

  "I suppose he worships Mithras, like most of the army?" Selene dried her hands on the linen towel and dropped it to the floor.

  Rebecca shrugged. "Come, Mistress, time grows short. Let me see what I can do with your hair."

  "Something simple, Rebecca, I don't want to be pushing curls off my face all day. If I had my way, I'd cut it short like the holy women."

  Rebecca gasped. "Cut your hair? Oh, no, Mistress! It's so beautiful." She pulled the hair back from Selene's face and secured it with bone pins, then twisted it into a compact bun. Silver combs held it in place. Rebecca teased two small tendrils into curling in front of Selene's ears, then handed her a polished bron
ze mirror. "Here, this is a simple style."

  Selene looked at herself critically. "Nicely done. Go as lightly on the cosmetics and I will be most satisfied."

  Rebecca smoothed lotion on Selene's face and neck. "You really should stay out of the sun. You're scandalously brown. Before you know it, your skin will look like cracked boots."

  "I like being scandalous. Besides, some powder should make me suitably pale."

  Rebecca applied a light dusting of powder and shaped Selene's eyes with kohl. A thin red paste for the lips finished the picture.

  Rebecca laid out her clothes: a long-sleeved, full-length linen undergarment to be covered by a lightweight, cream-colored wool dalmatica. The voluminous dalmatica was cut in the simple style of the day – a wide, straight sheath for the body with generous sleeves that came to the wrist. This one had green and blue embroidered strips depicting fanciful sea creatures bordering the sleeves and appliquéd from both shoulders to the hem. The crowing touch, a filmy blue-green silk wrap for shoulders and hair. Rebecca draped Selene in her various layers and stood back to judge the effect.

  Selene fussed with the swaths of material belted with a silk cord just under her budding breasts.

  "Stop trying to improve on perfection, Mistress. The stripes are aligned." Rebecca settled the silk wrap in wispy folds over Selene's hair and shoulders.

  "With all this cloth, I feel like I'm wearing a merchant's tent," Selene complained.

  Rebecca smiled, showing small, irregular teeth. "Would you wear less and be taken for an actress or acrobat, men vying for your favors?"

  Selene blushed at the thought, mumbling, "At least they're comfortable."

  "The tent looks quite elegant with your height."

  Selene took a second look in the mirror. "Now for the jewelry and I'll be ready to greet the new Prefect…as if he will even see me in the crowd." She put on the heavy silver bracelets and faience earrings that had been her mother's, bringing back bittersweet memories.

  Rebecca nodded approval. "You look much older than your fourteen years."

  Selene preened. Since she had the responsibilities of the household, she could at least be treated as an adult.

  "There's only one thing missing," Rebecca added.

  What? I'm wrapped, draped and pomaded. What more can you do to me?"

  Rebecca opened a carved cedar chest sitting under a narrow window and pulled out a pair of clean sandals. The blue leather enclosed the toe and heel, leaving the arch free. "We can't have you padding about the city barefoot like a beggar."

  "Of course not." Selene giggled and sat on the bed so Rebecca could lace the sandals. There was another knock at the door. "Yes?"

  "It's Nicaeus. Father waits. Are you ready?"

  Selene's heart quickened. She glanced at Rebecca, who nodded. "I'll be right out."

  Selene strode across the room then moderated her gait to the feminine glide her friend Honoria had worked so hard to teach her. The astonished look on her brother's face was worth all the fussing. She kept a serene mask as she took his proffered arm and they descended the stairs.

  Their father waited in the vestibule. Calistus was of unremarkable height, with the stooped shoulders and small rounded belly of a man who spent more time at his books than in the gymnasium. Today the full regalia of a city councilor disguised his physical imperfections: full length white tunic, topped with a voluminous toga bordered with the thin purple stripe denoting his class. He wore rings and medals denoting his various civic offices and honors, and carried a mahogany staff capped with gold.

  Selene's heart swelled as he smiled at her, his eyes lighting with joy and his face creasing with laugh lines.

  "I see you both will do me proud today. Let's be on our way."

  They exited onto a broad residential street and proceeded toward the agora. The streets in their quarter filled with families of distinction – councilors, lawyers, rich merchants – making their way east. As they approached the agora, the crowds became more varied – churchmen, sailors, shop owners, apprentices, teachers, beggars and pilgrims – all heading in the same general direction. Wine shops and fruit merchants did a brisk business. Other enterprising men and women hawked baskets of dark brown rolls, flat bread, and grilled meat and onions on a skewer.

  The smell of cooked onions and garlic vied with that of unwashed bodies and urine. The workers who cleaned and stocked the public privies seemed unable to keep up with the crowd. Or, possibly many people, unwilling or unable to pay the small coin for use of the privies, relieved themselves where they willed. Selene wished she had brought a perfumed cloth to hold to her nose as they passed one particularly noisome alley.

  She stopped to look over some vases showing the profile of the boy-emperor Theodosius II on one side and, purportedly, the new Augustal Prefect on the other. Other merchants sold bronze coins, plates, glass beads, goblets and all manner of wares adorned with the stylized face of the emperor and/or the prefect. Her father called to her and Selene hurried along, not wanting to lose him in the crowd.

  The street emptied into the spacious open square where Canopic Street met the equally wide north-south street of Sema. Porticoes and public buildings surrounded the vast agora. Wooden stands, erected at one end, held city officials and offered a platform for the speeches. A freestanding monumental arch stood opposite the podium through which the procession would arrive. Selene could feel the crowd's excitement heighten, and her own pulse raced.

  Her father took her arm and pointed toward the wooden stands. "We'll be over there." The three picked their way through the crowd towards their designated spot. Calistus sat with the other city councilors in a place of honor on the platform. Selene and Nicaeus stood with the councilors' families on the steps of the law courts, above and a little to the right of their father.

  From that height, Selene could make some order of the crowd below. She spied Lady Hypatia, made conspicuous by her gender, sitting among the city nobles. The Patriarch Theophilus and his immediate staff occupied a dozen of the seats. The tall man in full army uniform must be the Egyptian dux Abundantius. The Jewish council of elders completed the platform contingent. Behind this first rank, families and staff ranged up the steps, each in the place designated for them by religion, birth, age and profession.

  "Can you see anything yet?" Selene asked her brother.

  The sun was just past its zenith. Nicaeus shaded his eyes with one hand while looking eastward along the boulevard. "Nothing yet. We'll probably hear it before we see anything."

  "I suspect it will be an hour or more before the procession makes it to the agora," a deep voice said behind Selene. She turned and looked into the bearded face of a man with brown eyes and black hair, very much like her own. His lips turned up into a smile. Selene put a hand to her mouth then gasped, "Phillip!" She greeted her oldest brother with a leap into his arms. Phillip grabbed Selene in a bear hug then put her down with a grunt. "My baby sister isn't such a baby anymore." He looked her up and down with a wistful smile. "In fact, you've grown into quite a lady."

  "Phillip! It's been three years! You've grown a beard. Why did no one tell me you were coming? When did you get home? What was the court like? You must tell me all about Constantinople! Does Father know you're home?"

  At the mention of Calistus, a shadow passed over Phillip's face. "Father doesn't know I'm back. I decided not to finish my law studies and had the good fortune to travel home with Orestes and his escort. We took the overland route and became great friends on the journey."

  "Orestes?" Nicaeus blurted. "Our new Augustal Prefect? You're friends?"

  "Close your mouth, brother, or you'll catch flies. Yes, the new Prefect and I are quite good friends." The next hour passed quickly as Phillip regaled his small but attentive audience with the exploits of his fellow law students, the wonders of the royal court, and his adventures traveling with Orestes.

  Selene's breath came quick as Phillip described a narrow escape on the trip. "We chased the bandits into a bli
nd canyon where they fought for their lives. Just as I thought they were finished, the leader…" Phillip's words were drowned by the blare of a hundred trumpets playing a fanfare. They all looked up in surprise. "I'll finish the story later."

  Selene's deep disappointment at the interruption of the story must have shown, because Phillip chucked her under the chin and said, "Don't worry, little sister. I lived." She punched him in the ribs and turned to watch the procession.

  It took the better part of another hour for the whole parade to wend its way into the agora. First units of soldiers from the garrison at Nicopolis, followed by all manner of conveyances fantastically decorated by the city's guilds and youth groups. Most were wagons decorated with flowers and streamers and containing people acting scenes from the Bible that in someway related to their professions. The shipbuilders provided Noah and the Ark with several real animals. The bakers chose the Sermon on the Mount and tossed free bread to the crowd, much to the disgust of the food vendors.

  Selene gasped when a lovely painted plaster statue of what seemed to be the Virgin Mary was revealed to be the goddess Athena. Several pagan students from the association that provided it accompanied the statue. They marched in silent defiance when they entered the agora, then broke into a hymn of praise to the goddess in front of the platform. The Patriarch rose and pointed a staff at the students, as if to strike them down. "The laws are clear forbidding public worship of idols. Stop this abomination at once!"

  Immediately a pack of parabolans attacked the students with clubs. The students fought fiercely in defense of their goddess, kicking and punching their attackers, but they were no match against beefy men with cudgels. Selene heard the sickening crack of wood on bone and shrieks of pain that turned to shouts of anger as the parabolans broke through to topple the statue. It shattered into a thousand pieces and a cloud of dust. The troops from Nicopolis drove a wedge-shaped formation through the melee and started to separate the combatants by hauling them to opposite sides of the agora.