Selene of Alexandria

by Justice, Faith L.

  Hypatia waited for him in his private quarters. "My dear Lady, I'm delighted to see you, but what brings you out at such an early hour?" He snapped his fingers at his servants, who rushed to fetch food and drink.

  Hypatia rose. Dark circles shadowed her eyes. "I am always up before dawn. It's good discipline. This morning my servants brought news of riot in the city. Is it true?"

  Orestes sighed, shedding his cloak and taking a comfortable seat. His servants arrived with warm bread, cheese, cold roast lamb and spiced wine. The smell reminded him he had eaten no dinner. He indicated the tray laid for two. "Care to join me?"

  Hypatia poured a goblet of wine and spread a piece of bread with runny cheese. She settled on a couch opposite Orestes and watched him eat. Finally, Orestes asked, "What do you hear from your servants?"

  "Only that all the churches burn, Jews and Christians fight in the streets and the dead number in the thousands." Hypatia put down her bread, untouched.

  Orestes choked briefly and sipped. "That's all?"

  "It's a fair estimation of the stories racing through the city." Hypatia asked gravely, "I surmise the truth is somewhat short of the rumors?"

  "I asked Demetrius to post notices and have proclamations read from the street corners. I suppose word hasn't spread far enough." He scrubbed his face with his hands and looked at Hypatia with haggard eyes. "Apparently, some young Jewish hotheads decided to take revenge for the attacks in their neighborhoods. They raised an alarm that St. Alexander's was on fire. When the congregation came to save their church, the Jews attacked and killed many. More died in the rioting that followed."

  "The young fools! They've played right into Cyril's hands. What do the Jewish elders say?"

  "They're defiant, saying they did not plan this but it was inevitable. They claim now that the Christians have seen their strength, the parabolans will stop their attacks."

  "I thought better of Jesep and his faction." Hypatia shook her head. "Violence only begets more violence in this city. The Christians rarely practice turning the other cheek, as their messiah counseled. What are you going to do?"

  "I have asked both sides to meet with me this morning."

  "I doubt either party will come." Hypatia leaned back on her couch, frowning. "The Jews feel they have made their point. Cyril will trumpet his moral right and retaliate shortly."

  "If so, we are at a significant disadvantage. I've appealed to Abundantius for troops but it will be at least one day before they arrive. I've built a coalition of nobles who seek to advise Cyril. Maybe they can put pressure on him to allow heads to cool."

  "Many of the city fathers are unhappy at the high-handed way Cyril has managed his Bishopric. Opposition is building, even among those who supported Cyril. Let me make some visits." Hypatia rose, rearranging her wraps. "I'll start with Calistus. I want to see if Selene has recovered from her fright."

  Orestes started. "How did you know she had been caught in the riots? She seemed tired, but well enough when Phillip took her home."

  "Selene? In the riots? What are we going to do with that girl? I had thought she learned her lesson."

  Orestes looked puzzled. "What are you talking about?"

  "The day before yesterday, when we picked her up in the marketplace. She had obviously been frightened and, from the look of her clothes, possibly attacked. Whatever would have possessed her to venture out at night into a riot?"

  "She said she had to warn her brother."

  "And she had to do it herself." Hypatia smiled sadly. "Ever listening to the heart before the head; the impulsiveness of youth. I sometimes despair of Selene ever becoming a scholar."

  Orestes rose and took her hand. "She will never be the famous Lady Philosopher of Alexandria. There is only one." His eyes took on a faraway look. "We can guide Selene only when she lets us."

  "You must think me a foolish old woman, trying to relive my youth through another."

  "No. I think you are quite wise and a good friend. You are the most remarkable person I have ever known and I don't know what I – or this city – would do without you." Orestes encased her hand in both of his. "What you despair of in Selene are the very traits I admire in you – independence, the need to make things better and a stubborn belief that you can." He released her hand. "Go, my friend. We'll see what we can do to calm the city. Between us maybe we can stop this course of destruction."

  Hypatia predicted truly. Both parties refused to meet with him.

  Shortly after the noon meal, Demetrius came to his office, looking shaken. "The Patriarch is on the march. He and thousands more head for the Jewish quarter."

  "Damn! He didn't give us time. We have only the guards and they will not be enough." He leapt up. "Get my horse. Call my escort. I'm going to meet him."

  "It's too late, Master. He will have reached it by now. And the guards are unhappy about defending Jews. Your escort might not be reliable."

  Orestes donned his cloak. "I can't sit here doing nothing. Do as I say, damn you, or I'll have you whipped!"

  Demetrius bowed.

  Orestes raced down the steps to his waiting mount and vaulted into the saddle. He urged his horse to a ground-eating canter and headed out the gate. His escort scrambled to catch up. They dodged through the streets toward the Jewish quarter in the eastern part of the city.

  As they approached, Orestes had to slow his horse to navigate the carnage. Thousands of people clogged the avenues, systematically breaking in doors and herding occupants into the street. Some refugees carried bundles, but most fled before the onslaught with little more than the clothes on their backs. Women cried desperately for children, neighbors hauled the sick on pallets; men from the workshops struggled to find their families.

  Behind the first wave of Christians, a second looted the buildings, throwing such poor possessions as could be found into heaps. Anything of value – a cooking pot, a spindle – disappeared. The rest, broken, littered the street. This section of the quarter offered little loot, so the first wave moved quickly toward the shops and merchants' homes. The very wealthy lived beyond the walls in a suburb established after the last expulsion. The mob might not go there and, if they did, the staff of the walled estates might resist.

  Orestes drove his horse forward. "Make way!" His crop struck right and left to clear a path. His escort strung out behind him. He broke through the crowd into the square in front of the main synagogue.

  Many young Jews lay quiet and grotesque where they had fallen, swords and clubs still clutched in their hands. The Patriarch stood in the middle of the square, pouring oil over sacred objects from the temple – scrolls, chalices, and prayer shawls. Armed monks held several bruised and bleeding Jewish priests.

  "The torch!" Cyril cried.

  "Stop!" Orestes pulled his horse to a prancing halt on the other side of the oil-soaked pile. His mount smelled blood and rolled its eyes. "Patriarch, you have no right."

  "I have every right! These people slaughtered Christians. They must be made to pay!"

  The crowd let out a deafening roar.

  Orestes' horse reared. Several of his escort trailed into the square and took up positions on his flank.

  "These people!" Orestes bellowed in his parade ground voice. "Do you mean that child? Or that old man?" The crowd quieted slightly. "You punish the many for the sins of a few. Send your people home. I will bring the real culprits to justice."

  "Never! The murderers will not be caught. These people protect their own. They must be made to leave Alexandria!" Cyril threw the torch onto the pyre.

  Flames leapt high, sending Orestes' horse skittering backwards.

  "No!" One of the priests broke loose. "Not the sacred Torah!" He threw himself on the blaze, trying to beat out the flames with his hands. His clothes and beard caught fire. His screams echoed around the suddenly quiet square. Orestes watched in horror as the human torch stumbled around the pyre and fell twitching to the ground, ashes from the sacred texts floating into the air.

  A
bestial howl rose from the mob. Those Jews remaining streamed for the gates out of the city. Orestes pulled his horse close to Cyril and screamed, "What is it you want, Cyril?"

  The Patriarch looked up with hard flat eyes. "God's will."

  Orestes' gut turned ice cold, even as a white-hot rage fixed his face in a ferocious snarl. He raised his whip as if to strike Cyril.

  His horse skittered as a young guard muscled his mount between Orestes and the Patriarch. "Sir! We must leave."

  "I won't go."

  "You must, sir. We can't protect you. Several of the escort have already turned back. If we stay, we die."

  Orestes looked at the frightened young man fighting his nervous horse and surveyed the chaos. The madness he saw on faces boded ill for anyone in their way. His temper cooled. He turned back to the young Patriarch, standing defiant. "I won't forget this. The Emperor will hear of this calumny."

  Cyril smiled. "I'm sure he and his sister will be most pleased by this day's work."

  Orestes jerked his horse around and rode with the young soldier through the smoke to the forum. He didn't look back.

  Orestes returned to his private quarters grimy and exhausted.

  Demetrius met him at the top of the stairs. "How goes it, Master?"

  "Cyril expelled the Jews." Orestes' shoulders slumped. "I fear for Hypatia, out in this madness. Any word?"

  "None, Master." The two continued to the Prefect's rooms. "The runners report Abundantius will be here with the troops by sunset tomorrow."

  "Too late." Orestes ran a hand through his hair, releasing a shower of ashes. "Are guards posted where I ordered?"

  "Yes. We should be able to contain the damage to the Jewish quarter."

  "I'll set up a command post here. Have the runners report to me for orders."

  "Should I bring food? Wine?"

  "Both. And make sure the wine is unwatered."

  His secretary spoke quietly to a servant then followed Orestes to the offices.

  Orestes scrubbed his tired eyes and said, "I fear I've met my match. Cyril's rage blows a bitter wind through this city that I cannot turn aside."

  "It is surely a dark day, Master. Can you come to some accommodation with the Patriarch that will end this impasse?"

  "The lines are clearly drawn. Only the Emperor, or possibly the city fathers, can rein him in." Orestes strode into his office. "I must write my report to the Emperor and make my needs clear."

  "Selene, wake up."

  She moaned and rolled over.

  "I need your help. Please!"

  Someone shook her shoulder. She put a name to the voice and opened one eye. Rebecca. Selene shot up, suddenly awake. "What?"

  Tears streamed down Rebecca's face. "The Patriarch is expelling the Jews from Alexandria. My brother Aaron is in the kitchen."

  Selene grabbed a robe and followed her friend. Aaron sat at the kitchen table with a bloody bandage on his arm and bruises around his neck. Although he had matured to a slightly built youth with the downy beginnings of a beard in the past two years, Selene knew his mind was still that of a child.

  Rebecca placed her hands on her brother's shoulders. "Tell Mistress Selene your story, Aaron."

  He relaxed slightly at Selene's encouraging smile. "I was home alone with Momma 'cause our brothers..." His eyes shifted quickly to Rebecca and back.

  "Yes," Selene prompted.

  "'Cause our brothers didn't come home last night. Anyway, I was home with Momma, when they broke in."

  "Who broke in?"

  "Them. They hit Momma. That wasn't right, was it? They shouldn't of done that!" The boy looked up with pleading eyes.

  Selene patted his hand. "No, Aaron. That wasn't right. They are bad men. What happened then?"

  "I tried to protect Momma, but a bad man put his hands around my throat and squeezed. It got dark." He touched the bruises and shuddered. "I don't like the dark."

  Rebecca put her arms around the boy and rocked him. "You were very brave to fight the bad man, Aaron. Tell Mistress Selene the rest of your story."

  The boy took a deep breath and continued, shakily, "When I woke up, Momma was gone. I hid until it was real dark, then I sneaked here like 'Becca said to do if there was trouble. It's scary in the dark without Momma." Tears traced muddy runnels down his dirty cheek. "Where's Momma?"

  Rebecca patted his back. "You did well, Aaron. You tried to help Mother and you found your way here all by yourself, just like I taught you. Come. You can sleep on my pallet tonight."

  "What about Momma?" the boy pleaded.

  Rebecca hugged his frail body. "I don't know, duckling, but you'll be safe here." She led him to the servants' quarters and returned shortly to sit opposite Selene at the table. Rebecca hung her head in her hands.

  "What can I do?" Selene asked.

  "Keep Aaron safe. I have to look for my mother. It's all over town. Jews are being beaten, killed, forced out of the city. The richer ones are trying to sell their businesses and possessions before moving on. The poorer ones have already lost everything. They're camping in the Boukolia."

  Selene shuddered. The Boukolia, pasture lands of sparse shrubs and wild cattle, also boasted a fair number of brigands. The soldiers of Nicopolis kept order among the rough inhabitants, who were known to assault travelers, murder one another and break into open rebellion, but it was uncertain the troops could or would protect thousands of fleeing Jews.

  "What about you?" Selene grasped Rebecca's hands. "I don't want you to go, but I've said many times I will help any way I can. Ask anything of me."

  "I must try to find my family."

  "But your shoulder! The Boukolia is not safe even if you were uninjured."

  "I may not have to go to the camps, but if I do, I'll be in better shape than most." She glanced at the dark archway leading to the servant's quarters. "Please care for Aaron until I get back. He'll be frightened when he wakes up in a strange place." She shook herself and rose. "I hope to be back by dark tomorrow. If I'm not, wait another day before doing anything."

  Selene rose and hugged her friend. "What should I tell Phillip?"

  "Nothing! He must not follow me to the camps! It would be his death if they discovered he was Christian. If I don't come back, maybe Lady Hypatia or Mother Nut knows someone who can help, but please keep Phillip here."

  "I'll do what I can. Phillip is a man grown, and I have little influence in such matters." Selene's mouth quirked in a lopsided smile. "After all, he is my brother."

  "He is, indeed." Rebecca glanced despairingly at the empty doorway. "Do what you can…for his sake and mine."

  Selene captured Rebecca's hand. "Be well, my friend, and stay safe."

  Chapter 26

  Selene waited anxiously for Rebecca throughout the next day. She set Aaron some small tasks to keep him busy. When the sun lowered, she had to calm his fears as well as hers. Luckily, Phillip was out of the house and she did not have to apprise him of Rebecca's absence.

  On the second morning, Hypatia came to visit. Selene greeted her in the vestibule and conducted her to the solarium. "Honored Teacher, I'm so glad you're here. I missed your visit to my father two days past."

  "I'm afraid that visit bore little fruit." Hypatia looked grim. "Your father was receptive, but we didn't have time to stop the Patriarch. Perhaps now that he has achieved his ends, Cyril will be more accommodating." She shook her head and smiled. "I've come on a more personal errand – to assure the health and good countenance of my favorite female student."

  Selene snorted. "Lady, I'm your only female student. My health is good and – I'm told – my countenance fair, but my heart is troubled."

  "How may I help?"

  Selene told Hypatia about Rebecca and her fears.

  "This is a delicate matter." Hypatia said. "Abundantius has arrived with his troops and is restoring order, but it is still dangerous." She looked sharply at Selene. "I highly recommend you do not rush off to the camps."

  "I don't intend to." Selene
blushed then paled. "But I have to do something!"

  "I am not without resources, but in these times, it is difficult to get reliable information. I'll send word as soon as I can."

  "Thank you, Lady. It is more than I hoped."

  "More than you hoped?" Hypatia raised an eyebrow. "Do you feel I hold you in such low esteem that I would be unwilling to help?"

  "No, Honored Teacher! Only that, with so many demands on your time, the troubles of a Jewish servant might not be worth your attention." Selene lowered her head.

  "Ordinarily, the troubles of a Jewish servant would not be worth my attention," Hypatia answered dryly. "But these are not ordinary times and you are no ordinary student." She put her hand under Selene's chin and tilted her face. "When you see something wrong, your first impulse is to fix it – to be the strong one. You sometimes forget others can help. You needn't go through life keeping secrets and fighting all your battles alone, Selene. It sometimes helps to talk."

  Tears tickled the back of her throat and blurred her eyes. Selene took several deep breaths to calm herself. Looking into Hypatia's concerned face, a dam seemed to burst in Selene's chest. Tears welled and she shook with deep bone-wracking sobs. Hypatia gathered Selene to her breast and rocked her with soothing nonsense words, until she quieted.

  Selene pulled away, wiping at her eyes. "Thank you, Honored Teacher. I'm better."

  "I had hoped by now, you would regard me as more than your teacher," Hypatia said with a touch of sorrow. "You once asked me if I missed having children and I said I've had hundreds. But they are all sons. You are my only daughter."

  Selene acknowledged Hypatia's affection with a bowed head and a simple, "I'm honored." Still shaking from her emotional outburst, Selene told Hypatia of the last several days – the terror, anger and shame of near-rape; the horror and exhaustion of riots and death; her fear for Rebecca and Phillip; her self-doubts. Hypatia said little during Selene's recitation, encouraging her with nods and murmured syllables. Stumbling to a hiccuppy close, Selene felt drained.