Selene of Alexandria

by Justice, Faith L.

  A flood of jealousy flashed through her. How dare Rebecca act that way toward her beloved brother? She was only a servant, and a Jewess! As quickly as it flowed, the acid torrent ebbed, leaving Selene shaken.

  Rebecca turned and saw her in the crowd. Her smile faded to a look of concern. She hurried to Selene's side. "Are you feeling well, Selene? You're pale, as if you saw a spirit or felt faint."

  Phillip arrived and took Selene's arm. Two hectic red spots appeared on her cheeks. "I think I suffer from the heat."

  Phillip pointed down the street. "Let's repair to the Tychaion for a cooling drink." He ushered them into the former temple of the goddess of good fortune and seated them at a small corner table near a pillar. He sat with his back to the wall, Selene assumed so he could watch people coming and going.

  Unlike other former temples which had been converted to churches, most of the Tychaion's statues and cult objects remained on display. Tyche herself presided over the room, clutching a rudder in one hand and a cornucopia in the other, a slight smile on her lips. An Egyptian modius, a basket for measuring grain, adorned her head. Selene's spirits lifted slightly. In spite of priestly disapproval, everyone she knew carried a good luck charm or whispered wards against evil. Tyche was a good omen. Maybe she would give them bounty and good fortune.

  Phillip must have given a sign she missed; shortly after they all sat, a slatternly woman brought three goblets of watered wine. Selene found the vintage harsh. However, the coolness did soothe her fevered brain. Rebecca clucked over her like a mother hen, adjusting her robes, smoothing her hair.

  "What?" Selene pulled herself out of a fog when she realized Phillip had asked her a question.

  His look of annoyance was quickly replaced by concern. "Should I hire a litter to take you home?"

  "No!" Selene straightened her back and took a closer look around. She was rarely out of touch with her physical environment. She took comfort in the feel of the smooth wooden benches and the acrid odor of unwashed bodies packed in too small a space. "I'm fine. It's just been an exhausting day. What brings you to the scholarly part of the city?"

  Phillip smiled. "I attended a lecture."

  "Whose? I didn't see you on the Museum grounds."

  "I went to hear Teacher Hierex." Phillip casually drank his wine.

  "Hierex! His students among the philoponoi cause much trouble. I told you about that odious Pontine and what he did during my anatomy presentation."

  "It's good to know what others think." Phillip watched the crowd. "The philosophers at the Museum are out of touch with the common people. Hierex speaks to the masses and he has a dangerous message."

  "Dangerous how?" Rebecca asked.

  "He speaks against Orestes, accusing him of being under the influence of black sorcerers."

  "How dare he?" Selene's eyes narrowed. "Why doesn't Orestes silence him?"

  "Hierex is subtle. He doesn't accuse the Prefect of wrongdoing, just of being weak-minded. I doubt Orestes will take immediate action. People preach on every street corner. If he locked up all, there would be no room in the jails. He will have to wait until a more compelling case can be made against Hierex."

  Rebecca asked softly, "What does Hierex say about the Jews?"

  Anger suffused Phillip's skin under his dark tan. "I wished to spare you his venom, Rebecca."

  "I have heard rumors. I would know the truth."

  "Hierex preaches that the Jews should be made to convert or leave the city. He also says powerful Jewish leaders have undue influence with Orestes."

  "Does he accuse the Jews of being the black sorcerers?" Selene gasped.

  "No, but he urges good Christians to attack Jews and take their property." Phillip's hand covered Rebecca's.

  "Do the people listen?"

  "Enough to cause problems. I've sent word to your brothers."

  "My people will take precautions." Rebecca sighed. "We have suffered this before and know how to defend ourselves."

  "I'll tell Orestes. Things have been so peaceful since the Patriarch consolidated the Christians; I hate to see new disorders."

  "Orestes needs to get Hierex off the streets," Selene muttered. She watched her brother and Rebecca through her lashes as she drank – the easiness of their conversation, the warm glances. A trickle of fear for her brother and Rebecca cut through her self-absorption. Selene thumped her empty flagon onto the table.

  "Selene, are you ready to go?" Rebecca asked.

  "Yes, I think I am quite recovered."

  "Good." Phillip pushed back his bench. "Let's be off. Selene scandalizes the neighbors enough without rumors spreading that I brought her to a wine shop – and a pagan one at that!"

  "Have you misplaced the good sense God gave you?" Selene rounded on her brother when they were alone after dinner.

  "What are you blathering about, little sister?" Phillip examined his fingernails with a bored expression.

  "I'm talking about spying for Orestes, roaming the streets in servant's garb, getting Rebecca involved." Selene crossed her arms and set her chin at a stubborn angle.

  "You are not the only one in this family who can brave the streets of Alexandria in disguise." Phillip grinned.

  Selene colored. "I only did that twice, and you or Antonius escorted me most of the time. Besides, we aren't talking about me. I'm worried, Phillip. I need you here. Nicaeus is gone and Father isn't well. If something happened to you, it would kill him."

  "I doubt it," Phillip muttered, then looked up at Selene with a wicked grin. "And you, little sister? Would you mourn me?"

  She stomped her foot and struck a dramatic pose, nose in the air. "I would curse you for a fool and hate you forever for leaving me alone."

  "With Nicaeus gone, father dead and you cursing me, will there be no one in the house to remember me kindly?" Phillip pulled a mock-wistful face.

  She looked at him from the corners of her eyes. "Rebecca might be foolish enough to mourn you, but not I." Relaxing, she turned serious again. "You do have feelings for her, don't you? You're not just taking advantage because she's a servant?"

  Phillip looked stricken. "How could you think such a thing of me, Selene?"

  "I had hoped you had not changed, but we've had so little time together since your return. You're always out, or we have company. I'm not sure I know you anymore."

  He held out his arms. She slipped into his embrace.

  "I have changed." He spoke into her hair. "Though Father might deny it, I've grown up. My actions may be those of a carefree youth, but they are for a purpose. I know too much, and with knowledge comes the obligation to act."

  Selene smiled. When had she last foregone action in favor of contemplation? She hugged her brother fiercely. "I know. But please, take care. I don't want to lose you." She pulled a little away and poked him in the ribs. "And don't break Rebecca's heart or I will break your head."

  "I would cut off my right hand before I harmed Rebecca and I certainly have no intention of acquiring a broken head from the toughs in the street or from you." He pulled her closer again. "Trust me. Orestes can bring a new era of tolerance to Alexandria. I want to help."

  "I don't see how you and Rebecca can be together even in this new age you speak of. Never mind that she is a servant." Selene settled onto his chest, listening to the double thump of his heart. "Both Jews and Christians forbid intermarriage without conversion, and the law forbids you to convert to Judaism. If Rebecca will not become Christian, what will you do? I would not see you shame her by keeping her as a concubine."

  Phillip's voice became gruff. "We'll make it work…somehow."

  Chapter 19

  Orestes and his escort made their way through the throngs toward the open-air theater in the eastern quarter.

  "A rousing crowd tonight, eh, Orestes?" Jesep's elbow jostled his. Orestes tolerated the inappropriate familiarity. Jesep, along with several chief men among the Jews, had invited the Prefect to a play. The Patriarch pressed hard to ban such spectacles; the Jew
s lobbied equally hard to keep them. Orestes understood this bitter public disagreement over entertainers masked deeper motives on the part of both parties and tread lightly between the two. He came prepared to make some conciliatory remarks, hoping to reconcile the feuding factions – at least on this dispute.

  Orestes chatted with his companions as they entered the theater. It sat at the edge of the ruined palace district, nestled into a limestone ridge. The rows of seats marched in a semicircle up the slope, affording the audience a magnificent view of the grain fleet and the Pharos Lighthouse. Seven ships, their bright sails furled, sat low in the water, filled with sacks of grain. Over thirty ships a week during the next five months would make the round trip to Constantinople to deliver the precious golden cargo. Orestes saw the laden ships as a sign of his success.

  The Master of Ceremonies announced Orestes' presence and bade him welcome. The crowd came to its feet, roaring. Orestes' chest expanded. These people approved of him; they wanted his presence. He was doing what he came here to do – keep the peace, expand prosperity, build his reputation.

  Orestes strode into the arena, put out his hands and waved the crowd to silence. "Thank you, fellow citizens, for the warm welcome. I'm pleased to share this night's entertainment with you. Following the play, I'll have some remarks, but for now – let the show begin!" The crowd gave one final roar before settling in their seats.

  Orestes clapped enthusiastically. The young men playing the Theban prince Theseus and his escort created a thrilling interpretation of Cretan bull dancing. Orestes found himself shouting with the crowd as the naked players grabbed the horns of an actor wearing a bull's head and somersaulted over the smoke-snorting Minotaur. They danced in, one after the other, to tease the monster, somersault over and poke the beast in the ribs, only to vault back to their original spots.

  As the players took their bows, a commotion broke out near the stage. A dozen or so men dressed as monks, rushed into the arena and started beating the actors – most with their fists, but a few had cudgels. A larger contingent from among the audience rushed into the arena in defense of the players. Before the entire theater could empty onto the stage, Orestes stood and shouted, "Stay in your seats! I will deal with this disturbance." He turned to the captain of his escort. "Stop the melee and bring the churchmen to me."

  Orestes clenched his fists, arms stiff at his sides. He thought he had come to an accommodation with Cyril concerning the parabolans. The force of five hundred was to be reduced to fifty, to guard only Cyril's person, not patrol the streets. Abundantius had withdrawn a similar number of soldiers, so the streets of Alexandria were, Orestes thought, policed by the city guard.

  His captain returned with a protesting monk. "This one claims to be their leader, sir."

  "Who are you and why do you cause such riot."

  "I am Ammonius of Nitria," the monk said, face red, a line of spittle dressing his beard. "I came to do what you will not – close this den of unrighteousness."

  "I have not yet ruled on the matter of entertainers," Orestes said in a deceptively mild voice. "It's my understanding the Patriarch protests lewd mimes, naked female players and theater performed on the Sabbath. I witnessed none of those conditions."

  "It's the Jewish Sabbath. By their own laws, these…people… should be home or worshiping. Instead they fill their eyes with filth!"

  "Silence!" Orestes raised his hand. "Who appointed you keeper of Jewish law?"

  The monk's face set in a hard line. A fanatical gleam sparkled in his eyes. "God directs my actions."

  Jesep stepped forward. "This smacks of a man's hand, not God's. A man named Hierex, an agent of the Patriarch."

  "Hierex," people near enough to hear muttered.

  "Hierex is Cyril's agent," several shouted. "Hierex speaks against us."

  Orestes turned to Demetrius with a raised eyebrow. This confirmed reports from Phillip. His secretary leaned forward and spoke in low tones. "Hierex is a teacher known to be loyal to the Patriarch. He is well regarded in Christian circles."

  "I've other reports of his actions. He seems to be at the root of much trouble." Orestes turned back to Jesep. "What proof have you that Hierex's will drives these men?"

  "He spreads lies and builds outrage among the common people. He has also spoken against you, Lord Prefect. Saying you are no true Christian, in that you favor the company of pagans and Jews."

  "Do not listen to them; they pour poison in your ears, Prefect!" Ammonius struggled in his captor's grip. "Jews are the agents of the devil."

  Jesep turned red and stood toe-to-toe with the monk. "I protest the actions of this...Christian." He turned to Orestes, hands outstretched. "We've been here since Alexander the Great built this city. The Patriarch in his festal letter says we are 'filled with every type of impurity.' He denounces our beliefs and, though he has not urged violence, Hierex and his followers raid our neighborhoods and attack our people. I call on you, Augustal Prefect, to stop this heinous behavior and protect the Jewish citizens of Alexandria."

  Orestes' anger neared the boiling point. The two factions could not have planned such a public confrontation if they tried. He could not maintain a façade of neutrality while the parabolans made free rein of the city. Orestes turned to the listening audience. "My fellow citizens, I came to your fair city to serve all Alexandrines. I am the representative of Imperial authority in Egypt and Alexandria. It is my duty to protect all citizens of the Empire and I will carry out that duty. Those who wish to foment unrest – be they Christian or Jew – will suffer the consequences."

  Ragged shouts of approval went up in some quarters. Muttering rumbled in others. A dozen or so people rose and left the theater. He motioned one of his guards to follow. "I keep the peace in this city, not the parabolans. All who wish can freely travel and attend entertainments, as they will. I will not keep their consciences."

  "Pagan! Jew lover!" Ammonius spat at Orestes.

  "Guards, take this monk in for questioning. Pick up Hierex as well. I want to know what he is plotting and who controls him."

  The guard saluted. "Yes, sir. I'll deliver them personally."

  The soldiers removed the monk. Orestes turned to the subdued crowd. "We came here in good fellowship to enjoy an evening's entertainment. Let us put aside our rancor and ill-will in the common cause of peace in our city."

  "Well said, Prefect. Our community needed to hear your support." Jesep bobbed his head. "Would you care to join me and some colleagues to discuss our concerns?"

  Orestes sighed inwardly. "Certainly."

  Hierex stifled a moan as his torturer turned to heat the tongs in a brazier of blazing coals. His hands and feet numb from the tight leather bands that held his naked form spread-eagled on an upright X-shaped rack. He wished the rest of his body exhibited a similar lack of feeling.

  He couldn't see out his left eye. His tongue probed bloody holes where three of his teeth recently lodged. Burns blistered the skin inside his thighs and across his belly. "Good Lord Jesus, give me strength to endure these tortures in your name," he mumbled over and over.

  The burly guard turned back to him with the glowing tongs. Hierex quickened his prayers.

  "Tell me who is behind these attacks."

  He said nothing.

  "Come now, you need only give me a name. Any name."

  The red glowing tongs came closer to his genitals. Hierex' mind raced like a dog chasing its tail as he sought a way to avoid the pain without betraying his Patriarch.

  "Pentadius!" he cried out, mangling the name through swollen lips and broken teeth. "Pentadius asked that the parabolans assist in expelling the Jews."

  "Liar. Tell me of the Patriarch."

  The tongs burned the hair from his groin. Hierex contracted his belly muscles as far as he could, in a futile effort to avoid the searing pain. He screamed as blistering heat touched his scrotum. The sickening smell of his scorched flesh filled the room.

  "Gallus, what's this?" A deep voice stopped the t
orturer's movements. "I asked you to question this man, not kill him."

  Hierex tilted his head to get a blurry picture of Orestes standing in the doorway. He looked angry, but not horrified, at the sight of his tortured body.

  "Prefect, forgive me." Gallus spoke in stricken tones. "He refused to answer. This is standard procedure for questioning prisoners."

  "I'm well aware of that." The chill in Orestes' voice seemed to lower the temperature in the dank dungeon. "This is a delicate matter. I expected a little less obvious physical damage." The Prefect sighed. "I should have overseen the questioning from the beginning." Orestes looked him over, a deep frown on his face. "Take him down and clean him up. I want him in my quarters in the morning."

  "Yes, sir." Gallus bowed as Orestes left the room.

  Hierex sent one venomous look at the Prefect's retreating back then passed out in relief.

  "The Patriarch to see you, sir." Demetrius showed Cyril into Orestes' office. Cyril presented a calm face. Orestes had some hope that Cyril might disavow these men as rogue elements in the church.

  "I understand you have detained a Nitrian monk and a member of my staff, Prefect. May I inquire as to their crimes?"

  Orestes rose as the Patriarch entered the room and indicated a chair. "Disturbing the peace. Ammonius and several parabolans attacked a band of players. Hierex spreads sedition."

  "Hierex spoke against the most Christian Emperor Theodosius? I find that hard to believe."

  "Hierex incites Alexandrine citizens to riot."

  "Surely not. Hierex is in training for the priesthood. He comes under my jurisdiction. I want him now."