"Thousands move to the city every week looking for work." Cyril shrugged. "You will soon fill your workshops."
"Illiterate Egyptian peasants!" the councilor sputtered. "I'm talking about the loss of skilled artisans – potters, weavers, dyers, bricklayers. The farmers who come here to escape the land taxes are a drain on our resources, not an asset."
Calistus interrupted his colleague with soothing tones. "We realize the fate of our Jewish citizens is past remedy, but the intolerable situation between you and the Prefect still remains. We ask you to take the first step in mending the breach with Orestes. Patriarch, show the city some leadership reflective of the New Testament. Do not the texts say 'Blessed are the peacemakers'?"
Cyril nodded. "A most noble proposal. This rift is not of my making or inclination. I would be most happy to approach the Augustal Prefect, if he is willing to receive me." Cyril steepled his hands and touched fingertips to bottom lip. This could work to his benefit.
"We ask only that you both meet in good faith to reconcile your differences." Calistus' face lightened with honest relief.
"I agree nothing good can come of this continuing discord between us." The Patriarch widened his eyes and addressed the whole room. "The city needs unity. With the Jews no longer whispering in Orestes' ear, I'm sure we can come to some agreement." The Patriarch bowed his head to simulate penitence. "It was never my intent to cause misery. I am aware of the difficulties presented to innocent Christians through disrupted trade and the threat of plague. Even as we speak, our brothers and sisters minister to those outside our gates. As to the Prefect, I will wait on him shortly to discuss our mutual interests."
Calistus beamed. "We will be happy to work on your behalf. Orestes is a reasonable man. I'm sure you'll reach an accord."
"Of course." Cyril addressed the gathering. "I will again offer my support and guidance to the Prefect."
The delegation rose, bowed to the Patriarch, and made small talk as they left.
"A most satisfactory outcome, don't you think?" Cyril smiled at Hierex. "Those same parties that urge me to accommodation also approach Orestes. His coalition is falling apart. We have stripped him of the Jews; the nobles and councilors take a neutral stance. Now is the time to approach him."
"There is still one powerful obstacle." Hierex added slyly. "Hypatia still stands at the Prefect's side, poisoning him with her pagan philosophy. He no longer attends Christian services. Many others listen to her as well."
"I have seen the crowds around her door, waiting for her to speak." A slow red flush suffused Cyril's face. "Yes, she is a fierce lion in our path. My Uncle Theophilus admired her and suffered her to teach, but these are different times." He tapped his teeth with a fingernail. "We must be clever in how we wean our Prefect away from her unwholesome advice. She is a venerable woman, almost an icon in the city."
"But not invulnerable." Hierex frowned. "Everyone has a weakness. I will find hers."
Selene woke to the silence of late night. An oil lamp burned on her stand. She rolled onto her side, the effort making her pant. Why was she so weak and desperately thirsty?
A shadow detached itself from the wall and hobbled toward her. Selene's heart thudded painfully until the shadow resolved into an ancient woman.
"Mother Nut," she whispered. "What are you doing here?"
"Drink this." She held a cup to Selene's lips. It was a cooling mint drink with an undertone of anise. Selene collapsed to her back. Mother Nut poured another cup. "Drink as much as you can, child."
Selene raised her head for the second cup. Memories flooded back. She grabbed Mother Nut's hands. "Rebecca? My family?"
"All are well. Rebecca is recovering nicely. I let no one near you and ordered all to drink only unwatered wine or beer. Meat or fowl only, no food from the sea. The gods have seen fit to spare your household."
Selene sighed in relief and thought more closely about what her mentor had told her. She didn't recall any such remedies in her textbooks. Selene's professional curiosity piqued. "How does the drinking of wine and eating of meat help prevent the plague?"
"It's not what is eaten, but what is not." Mother Nut shrugged. "The gods require a sacrifice. Sometimes, when people give up water and what comes from water, the gods' anger passes them by." She grinned broadly, showing a clove of garlic stuck on one of her few remaining teeth.
Selene smiled weakly in return. "And garlic helps ward off evil." She plucked at her bed covering and peeked at the old woman between crusted lashes. "How soon can I be out of bed?"
"We barely snatched you from Anubis' jaws, child." Mother Nut frowned and clucked. "Stay in bed for a week and we'll see."
"A week!" Selene squealed. "But I promised Archdeacon Timothy." An overwhelming lethargy crept up her limbs. Her eyes grew heavy and she yawned. "Well, maybe," she mumbled, and drifted off.
After three days' convalescence, Mother Nut allowed Calistus to visit Selene. He looked frail, but had put on weight, and his color was much improved. He attributed this to a special diet of garlic and lentils and a daily walk Mother Nut had recommended.
"A remarkable old witch," he laughed. "She gets me to do things no one else could. If I didn't know better, I would say she cast a spell on this household. The servants walk in fear of her, but every one of them follows her orders and no one is sick."
Selene's nose twitched at the thought of the servants' precautions. "And after a while, you don't even notice the reek of garlic, I suppose."
"No, I don't."
"Has the plague reached the city?"
Calistus shook his head. "It seems confined to the camps. They're nearly empty now. Most of the poor souls have either moved on or died." His face settled into a pained expression.
Selene squeezed his hand. "What is it, Father?"
"Archdeacon Timothy..."
An icy lump formed around Selene's heart. "Is he dead?"
Her father nodded.
"And the others with him? Did God see fit to spare any of those kind souls?"
"Only one." He sighed. "There's a strange story about a woman they called the Gray Lady. She cared for the children until the last died, then walked into the Boukolia with no food or water. No one has seen her since. Some say she was the Blessed Mother Mary come to care for the children and see they made it safely to heaven."
"The Virgin Mary helped, even though they were Jews?" Selene frowned. The woman helping in the children's ward had seemed flesh and blood to her.
"A monk baptized them as they were brought in."
Of course! Baptism cleansed the soul of all former sin. Many, including the Emperor Constantine, put off baptism till their deaths to insure they went directly to heaven. The unfairness of redemption for a life lived deliberately in sin pricked Selene's sense of justice. Sometimes the paradoxes of religion made her head ache. She longed for happy news. "Is Honoria well?"
"The babe grows great and Lysis claims Ision daily regales him with predictions of a strapping grandson."
"Have they been here?"
"Antonius comes by daily to inquire about your health on Honoria's behalf. Lysis accompanied me in a delegation to meet with the Patriarch." Calistus snorted. "Ision did not attend. He's in favor of Cyril's actions and stands to improve his profits greatly by buying Jewish businesses for far less than they are worth. I would have thought Ision had gold enough and would turn his thoughts and energy to more gentlemanly pursuits."
She thought of Antonius, sadness swelling her throat. "Does Lysis regret the match?"
"No. Antonius seems happy enough and Honoria is a loving daughter-in-law." Calistus sighed. "Lysis and I had once talked of marriage between you and Antonius, but he cooled on the idea when Ision approached him. I'm sure the boy is better off with a biddable wife. You can be more than a handful traipsing off to do your own will." Calistus looked at her lovingly. "I'm just grateful you are alive. Mother Nut is a most remarkable healer for an unschooled Egyptian."
"Why did you send for her?"
"You cried out for her when you collapsed." He flushed slightly. "I wanted Urbib, but he disappeared during the troubles. He recently returned as a Christian convert, but Mother Nut had already worked her miracle on you. Rebecca made quite a persuasive case on her behalf." Calistus chuckled. "The old crone would only come if I provided a litter 'like a real lady'."
"And why shouldn't I be treated like a real lady when I come to such a great house as this?" Mother Nut cackled from the door. "Now you, sir, be gone. My dumpling needs her rest."
Calistus bowed deeply to the old woman. "As the Lady commands." He turned to Selene and lightly kissed her cheek. "I'll be back tomorrow."
Selene started to protest, took one look at Mother Nut's face and subsided into silence. Her questions would wait.
"Patriarch Cyril." Demetrius bowed as he opened the door.
Orestes had anxiously awaited this meeting. His friends on the council had told him Cyril would privately apologize for his unwarranted actions and had agreed to cooperate in restoring the peace. Orestes prepared to be gracious in accepting the apology, but firm about the Patriarch's future role. He hoped Cyril would be satisfied with his victories, or at least take some time to savor them. Orestes needed to realign his political support.
The Patriarch entered carrying a sumptuously wrapped bundle. A dozen church officials crowded into the sitting room after Cyril. Among them, Orestes recognized Hierex glaring balefully at him. Orestes held his dismay in check. He had planned a private meeting, where he and the Patriarch could work out their differences. He deliberately kept his contingent intimate – just Demetrius – to minimize the Patriarch's embarrassment.
"Demetrius, more chairs for the Patriarch's entourage." Orestes rose. "Welcome, and please be seated. Would you care for refreshment?"
"No, Prefect. We've come to speak of matters of the soul, not the body. I offer you the opportunity to follow Christ's word." Cyril slowly unwrapped the bundle, revealing a New Testament, its cover worked in red leather, the letters picked out in gold. "Jesus taught we should forgive our enemies. I have publicly stated that I forgive you your sins and misguided actions in defending the Jews."
Orestes kept his temper with difficulty. "Do you consider me your enemy?"
"On the contrary, I have requested the populace to pray for your soul and personally ask for divine guidance in helping you lead this city." Cyril bowed slightly. "And I would be more than pleased to oversee your religious instruction myself. It would give us the opportunity to be in daily contact. You might find my advice useful in your decisions concerning the health and welfare of our fair city."
Orestes felt his battle heat rising. Cyril offered no apology, only more interference. If Orestes accepted the Patriarch's offer, he gave Cyril and his minions admittance to his administration and tacit approval of past and future actions. If he refused, the Patriarch could accuse him of obstinacy and sit back in righteous innocence as the city fathers pressured Orestes for an accommodation. He could live with only one choice. "Patriarch, thank you for your more than generous offer. As I have told you, I completed my catechism in Constantinople and was baptized there."
Cyril smiled gently, speaking as if to an errant child. "You've claimed that in the past, but your actions and attitude toward the pagans and Jews belies that teaching."
Smiling just as sweetly, Orestes shot back, "The Bible teaches us that God created the earth, the plants and all the animals, does it not, Patriarch?"
"Indeed."
"It also teaches us God made man in his image."
Cyril answered more slowly this time. "Those are the earliest teachings. It is clear you have some knowledge of the Bible."
"I believe the God who made us did not intend for us to loathe his creations. And I believe the Emperor does not intend for his loyal citizens to be hounded from their homes, their businesses ruined and their families destroyed."
Cyril met Orestes' eyes. "A pretty speech. Do those beliefs truly come from your heart, or from your thwarted ambition and desire for personal acclaim?"
The corners of Orestes' mouth twitched. The Patriarch's verbal arrows hit close to the mark. The riots reflected on his ability to govern, and touched his pride. He sympathized with anyone in pain or unjustly treated, but, in war, the innocent were often hurt.
Orestes tried one last ploy. "There remains Jesus' admonition to render unto God what is God's and unto Caesar what is Caesar's."
"When Our Dear Lord spoke those words, Caesar was a pagan." Cyril fairly beamed benevolence. "Our Most Esteemed Emperor and his sister Augusta Pulcheria have pledged to establish God's kingdom on earth. What was Caesar's is now God's. Acknowledge that fact publicly and let us work together for this city's future."
Orestes cleared his throat, "I most humbly beg to differ with your understanding of that passage. My patrons in the Imperial Court gave me a clear mandate for administering Egypt, and put the resources of the city at my disposal." In a low voice, directed only to Cyril, "I suggest, Patriarch that you retire to your Bishop's chair. If you persist in making it difficult for me to fulfill my duties, I will recommend the Emperor remove you from your See."
The blood drained from Cyril's face, then flushed back, bright red. "Even the Emperor has a Patriarch at his right hand, advising him in all matters. You might do well to emulate him."
Orestes leaned forward. "The Emperor is a boy of fourteen; his sister, the Regent, a girl of sixteen. In their youth, they need many kinds of advice. I don't."
Cyril straightened his shoulders and spoke to his contingent. "It is obvious our services are not wanted here, and our mission at reconciliation failed."
They filed out the door. Hierex' lips twitched, as if trying to suppress a smile.
The Patriarch turned as the last official left the room. "You aren't the only one with influence at court, Prefect."
As the door shut, Orestes collapsed into his chair, head in hands. He foresaw another round of written recriminations on his and Cyril's part, another smirch on his reputation.
Demetrius brought him wine. He drank, gagging on the sweet honeyed taste, then pushed it away, longing for the harsh vinegary stuff they served to the troops. After a moment's reflection, he realized what he truly longed for were those simpler times when he could fight his enemy directly, not through others' wiles and machinations.
Demetrius cleared his throat.
Orestes pondered his slave's careful mask. "Out with it."
"I can't help feeling, Master, that you might have chosen to accept the Patriarch's offer."
"I strongly considered it, but I can't abide the man."
"Could you not have feigned interest? If the Patriarch felt his voice heard, he might be more flexible. By keeping him close, you would have more knowledge of his actions and intentions. It would be easier to understand and counter him."
"You are a wise man, Demetrius." Orestes sighed. "But I cannot have him here. To do so would say to all that I found him right in his actions."
"I understand, Master." But the stiffness of Demetrius' demeanor expressed his disappointment.
Orestes left, slamming the door.
Cyril reverently replaced the New Testament on its stand in his chapel. "That was not the outcome I had hoped for."
"But not an unexpected one." Hierex spoke soothingly. "The Prefect will see the error in his judgment. We have sheared away his support, piece by piece. The masses are desperate for someone on whom to blame their misery. It will take little to turn them against Orestes."
"We cannot move directly against the Prefect." Cyril stared at a flickering lamp. "The Augusta Pulcheria has made her position clear. She is sympathetic, but will not abide disruption in the flow of grain. If our actions endanger her position as Regent, we lose her support."
"The legacy of Rome – bread and circuses." Hierex snorted. "The Lord Jesus might return to us any day and what will he find? Sodom and Gomorra."
"Not in Alexandria. We will have a fully Christian
city." Cyril clapped Hierex' shoulder. "But we must work quietly for a while – redouble our efforts among the poor, distribute gifts to councilors who suffered losses in the riots, allow the city to recover. As he realizes his isolation, Orestes will be more reasonable."
"What if he asks Abundantius to support him with troops?"
"That action would prove his ineffectualness." Cyril stroked his beard. "My fear is that Hypatia wields enough influence with the city fathers, to win them back for the Prefect."
"The Lady Philosopher has little influence with the lower orders."
"As you discovered, that is her weakness." Cyril smiled. "We must think on that."
Chapter 29
"Mistress, wake up!"
Selene groaned and rolled away from the finger poking her in the shoulder.
Over the past three months, she had recovered from her illness and attacked her apprenticeship with a vengeance, trying to make up for lost time. Between that and her household responsibilities, it seemed she never got a full night's sleep.
The finger kept poking and the voice took on a decided whine. "Please, Mistress Selene. The Lady Honoria sent a servant to fetch you. She's in labor."
"Go away!" Selene mumbled into her covers.
"What should I tell him, Mistress?" The voice turned pitiful.
"Tell who, what, you silly goose?" Muzziness lifted from Selene's brain. She sat up. Anicia bobbed from foot to foot. Selene rubbed her eyes and glared at the girl, then sighed. "I'm awake now. What needs my attention?"
"The Lady Honoria sent a litter, Mistress. She's in labor and wishes your attendance."
"The baby's coming? Why didn't you say so?" Selene threw the covers off her bed, pulled her night tunic over her head and rummaged in her trunk for a serviceable robe. She chose one of her student garments, already besmirched with stains. "Don't just stand there, Anicia, tell the Lady Honoria's servant I will be down shortly."
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